Bobby earned a reputation for going only as far as a curious girl wanted to
go, and it served him well.  Then his sister and her friends entered the
full blush of puberty and got...  curious.  To Bobby's constant surprise,
it turned out that being a cocksman was a lot harder than he thought it
would be.

   Codes: mf mF harem slow humor rom 1st teen cons reluc inc het cheat wimp
group voy oral mastrb pett preg

   ================================================================

   AUTHOR'S NOTE: A reader, wrote to me about a story and said the
following:

"Good fortune that befell me at age 16.  If those gals had known what
kind of novice I really was, I might not have been laid for another 2
years. My sister thought I was a real stud and had really been wanting me
to do her, and I was right on the verge anyway.  The girls liked me but my
sister was a leader and really sold them on me.  I became a coxman in the
next 2 years."

   That simple paragraph, true or not, led to the following story.

   Bob

   ---------------------------------------------------

   The Making Of A Cocksman

   By Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)



   Have you ever thought about the word "Slut"?  It's an interesting word,
usually meaning a girl or woman who has sex with multiple men on a more or
less casual basis.  Right?  But what do they call a guy who has sex as
often as he can with multiple girls or women?

   You don't call him a slut.  Not even sluts call him a slut.  It's an
interesting philosophical question to some.  Humor me for a few paragraphs
to explore that philosophical question, and then I'll get to the part of
the story you're actually looking for.

   The fancy name is Gigolo, but that infers that he fucks for money ... 
that he's a male prostitute, and while you could make an argument that all
prostitutes are sluts, you can't go the other way.

   I even did some very unscientific research about what guys like that are
called, but all I came up with was "cocksman" (alternatively spelled
coxman) and "sex machine".  In other words, I didn't find much.

   Anyway, whatever you call guys who do that, I'm one of them.

   Now I know there are some of you out there who are saying "Shame,
shame!" But you have to understand something.  And here it is:

   There has probably never been a time when a girl was sitting around
playing with her dollies and thought to herself "I'm going to grow up and
be a slut!"

   And, I doubt seriously if most boys are climbing a tree one day and
think "I'm going to fuck as many girls as I possibly can when my peter will
actually squirt stuff."

   You might notice that I used the terms "probably never" with the girls
and "doubt seriously" with the boys.  Isn't it interesting that one is more
definitive than the other?  Both are conditional statements, but lets face
it, it's more likely that a guy will try to spread his seed far and wide,
than it is for a girl to accept seed from a variety of sources.  It's worth
thinking about that if a girl does it though, she's called a slut, and
that's not a complimentary title.  But if I guy does it, he's called a sex
machine, or maybe a cocksman, both of which suggest he might be proud of
himself.  And, it follows that most men would LIKE to be cocksmen, but not
all that many are.

   So, understanding that - and I admit it's open for argument - the
question that bubbles to the top of the mind is: What is it that tips the
balance for a guy to make him a cocksman?

   I can think of arguments based on Biology, and arguments based on
Culture and arguments based on Evolution.  But before we get too deep and
you all quit reading, let me just tell you the story of how I became a sex
machine.  Then you can decide which argument might explain me.

   Let me throw a wrench in the works from the very start by saying it was
an accident.

   I was a normal, ordinary, every day sixteen year old boy, growing up in
a smallish town in middle America.  It wasn't the Bible Belt, but it wasn't
far from that either.  It was in the late sixties, but I wasn't tuned in to
the "Love Generation" or any of that Hippie stuff, and neither were any of
the girls I'm going to tell you about.

   I had a mom and a dad, and a sister named Claire.  I also had a mutt
named Buddy, who I probably loved more than the others simply because Buddy
always loved me, no matter what kind of trouble I got into.  I couldn't
afford a car, but had access to my Dad's 1966 Chevy Malibu for dates and to
cruise the highway between Junctionville, where we lived and Derby, eleven
miles down the road.  Most all of us kids participated in that little rite,
on a more or less regular basis, going from the A&W Root beer place in
"Junktown", to the Dairy Queen in Derby.  And back, of course.  Gas was
twenty cents a gallon in those days and you could cruise the strip all
night for a buck.

   I took a lot of girls on that trip and, though I had an interest in
necking, I never pushed it.  The girls appreciated that too, which was the
whole point.  I got a reputation for being "safe", which encouraged most
girls to accept an invitation to drag the strip.

   It also encouraged them to experiment a little, since they all knew I'd
stop whenever they said stop.  That led to a lot of hot kisses and quite a
bit of stroking breasts and a ton of heavy breathing.

   Now girls talk about boys whenever they get together, so my name got
mentioned a lot, even when Claire was in the group.  Not every guy got the
stamp of excellence during these talks.  From what I understand, the talk
would usually start out something like

   "I had to fight Jimmy Johnson off with a stick last night.  That boy has
more than two hands, I'll tell you that!"

   And from there they'd all complain about whatever boy had tried to do
this, or begged them to do that and so on.  Then, comparisons would begin,
about which boy was more dangerous than the rest.  This had nothing to do
with how cute the boy was.  That was a separate issue.  They might all
agree that Joe Bob was the cutest boy in town, and all swear they'd never
ever let him get them alone, all in the same sentence.  And, inevitably, so
I was later told, my name would come up and there would be sighs all
around. It wasn't because I was cute, or a football star.  It was because I
had tweaked nipples so nice and then quit when told to.

   And, of course, girls lie just like boys, particularly about how far
they've been.  You can tell when a girl lies, because they say they did
something, but not who with.  If it's the truth they give credit where
credit is due, or blame, as the case may be.

   So, whenever my name came up around Claire, all she ever heard about me
was good things, and about how nice things felt when I did them, and how it
wasn't scary at all.  And Claire decided, somehow, that I was some kind of
legend, who knew everything there was to know about sex.

   But the fact was that I was a virgin.  I knew quite a bit about tweaking
nipples and was a pretty good kisser, but that was about it.  I'd never had
the courage to put my hand below the belt, and no girl had ever spread her
legs and yelled "Rub my pussy Bobby, I'm on fire!"

   Claire had what she called her posse, which was a group of five girls
who hung around together almost all the time.  She was the Sheriff and when
they were together it showed.  She bossed those girls something terrible
and they fell in line like ducks after their momma.  They were all fourteen
and just entering what's sometimes called the blush of womanhood.  I'd
known them all since we were little, and to them I was just like a piece of
furniture.  True, I had sharp corners, so to speak, that they bumped into
once in a while, and I was dented and scratched a little as a result, but I
wouldn't have been surprised at all if one of them came into the living
room and sat down on me not knowing I was even there.

   That all changed when Clair and the posse turned fifteen.  It changed
because all of a sudden Claire was allowed to date.

   Well, that put a shock into the posse.  None of them had been allowed to
go on real dates until they were fifteen.  And even then there was a lot of
scrutiny by parents concerning who they went out with.  Claire had bribed
me a time or two to take the whole bunch out to drag the strip with me.

   Have you ever been in a 1966 Malibu with six chattering teenaged girls?
It was kind of fun in some ways.  first of all it was crowded.  They
crammed four in the back, and two more up front with me on the bench seat,
which meant one of them had to either almost sit on top of the other, or
straddle the Hurst floor shifter.  They talked like I wasn't there and it
was hilarious to hear them tell about sneaking out and first kisses and all
that stuff.  Some of them had older sisters who had been out with me too,
and they'd heard all about what fun girls had with me on dates.  They
didn't know the details - they just knew that the girls all liked going out
with Bobby.

   But of course, other than dragging the strip as a group, they didn't
want to go out with ME.  I was Claire's brother, and I farted when they
were around, and drank a whole bottle of Coke just so I could try and
perform the alphabet in one long burp and all that normal kind of thing
boys did at age eleven and twelve.  Of course by the time I took them down
the strip, I was almost seventeen and they were fifteen, which made me an
old man to them.  They went to the Junior High School, and I was Junior IN
High School.

   I also had nicknames for them all that they pretty much didn't
appreciate.

   Claire was "Claire Bear", because sometimes she was a bear to be around.
Of them all she was probably the second best looking, with shoulder length
brown hair and dark eyes, and a really beautiful smile.  She smiled a lot
too.  Life was fun for Claire.  Her breasts didn't look that big usually,
but when she wore a tight shirt, or something that showed a little
cleavage, she got the attention of the boys.  Her breasts had changed shape
too.  The last time I saw her without a top on they were like cones, with
round points.  Her nipples were flat and small, and she could have gone
braless and nobody would be able to tell.  Now they had gotten a lot
rounder or more full or something.  I could tell by the shape through her
clothes, unless it was the bra that was making her look bigger.

   Suzy Rumbell was "Loosey Suzy" because she always wore big oversized
shirts.  That was because she never wore a bra.  She didn't have much up
top and didn't need a bra, except she had nipples that poked out through
everything she wore.

   Then there was Monique Haskins.  I called her Unique Monique because she
was the only girl I knew who looked like she did.  She had ass length dark
hair that was almost blue it was so black, with dark skin, like she tanned
all the time.  Her lips were almost fat they were so full, but they didn't
look fat.  She was the first of the posse to develop breasts and they just
kept growing.  Now they were big and looked soft.

   The best looking one of the bunch was Margaret Williams.  she had short
straight blond hair that framed her face, which had high cheekbones and big
green eyes.  Her nose was what they call a button nose and she had a smile
even more beautiful than Claire's.  She was slim everywhere except her
chest.  She looked like she might fall over if she wasn't careful, because
her center of balance was so high.  That was offset by a butt that she kept
confined in tight jeans.  It was round and stuck out in the back like her
tits stuck out in the front.  Every guy in school dreamed of sucking on her
titties and feeling that ass.  I called her Large Marge.

   Donna Miles was the one I understood least.  I called her Miss
September, because she reminded me of the Playboy Bunny from that month
when I was fifteen, whose name was also Donna.  She was really tall with
long dark red hair that she almost always kept draped across her chest. 
She played with it all the time.  I later found out she thought her breasts
were ugly and covered them up with her hair.  She had the potential to put
the rest of them to shame, with a perfectly proportioned body that was an
hour glass shape.

   Last was the one I liked the best, at least up until the time when this
story took place.  She was Roberta Simms and I called her Knobby Robby. 
She was a tomboy, and liked the same things I liked when we were growing
up. She could run as fast as me, and climb as good as me and all that
stuff. She was all knees and elbows and gawky, flat -chested well into her
fourteenth year and even now only had small conical breasts, like Claire's
had been before they filled out.  She was just behind the others in
physical development.  But she treated me better than the others, which
means she didn't make as much fun of me.  And, in the end, she would be
true to that emotional style.

   But I'm getting ahead of myself.

   The accident happened while I was dragging the strip with a car full of
giggling, screaming ...  embarrassing girls.

   See, somebody had to sit beside me, and as I mentioned earlier, if she
didn't want to sit on top of whoever was in the suicide seat, she had to
straddle the shifter.  Now that shifter only had a three and a half inch
throw, so it didn't move all that much, but for a girl, barely fifteen, to
sit there with her legs spread, one of them touching mine, and have my hand
moving around between her legs ...  well, it caused a sensation.  When we
were getting in the car I explained it to them, and there were squeals and
chirps and sounds you wouldn't even think a human being could make as they
argued about which one would be the "shifter slut".

   This was a new term to me.  I'd never heard of a "shifter slut" before,
but it made interesting images flash through my mind.  That was the days
when miniskirts were coming on board, much to the delight of us guys, and
the thought of a girl in a miniskirt straddling that shifter made my dick
stiff.  Of course all these girls were wearing shorts, mostly cut-offs, but
it was a nice little fantasy.

   In the end Claire volunteered to be the shifter slut, since I was her
brother and nobody would even think of accusing me of copping a feel of my
own sister.

   Right?

   So, when they wanted me to do what mister nice policeman commonly called
"an exhibition of speed" as we were dragging the strip, and my testosterone
levels, already elevated by being around all that woman flesh, surged even
higher, I decided to give them what they wanted.

   I have to say here that Dad let me drive the Chevy because I took good
care of it.  It had a 357 in it, with positraction.  My Dad had wanted one
when he was a kid, but couldn't afford it, and when he found this one he
lovingly rebuilt it just like his dream car back then.  The station wagon
was our "family car", which meant it was Mom's car, and it wasn't cool
anyway.  And Dad, bless his heart, understood what a young man felt when he
drove that car.  So, on pain of torture and death and being grounded for
life if I so much as scratched it, he let me drive it.  I knew I was lucky
and didn't abuse things.  Usually I didn't ever rod it.  I'd get on it
pretty good from time to time, to press some pretty little thing back into
her seat and get her heart going, but that was about all.

   In other words, I wasn't used to power shifting.

   So, when I crammed it from first to second, and my hand slipped off the
T handle ...  it slapped Claire right on her money maker.

   The engine screamed, now in neutral, and that got all my attention. 
Which meant my hand STAYED on the crotch of Claire's tight shorts,
separated from her pussy by maybe two hundredths of an inch of terrycloth
and polyester.

   While I jerked my foot off the accelerator, Claire's surprised legs
slammed closed, trapping my hand.  By then, of course, my brain had
registered where my hand was, and I was trying to pull it out.  but Claire
was a healthy young girl who played sports and had firm, well developed
thigh muscles.  So what happened was that I tugged, and went slack to tug
again until, about the third time my hand basically stroked her pussy, her
legs sprang back open and she yipped.

   My hand came free, went back to the shifter, I put it in second and my
exhibition of speed was put on indefinite hold.

   It was an inglorious end to an attempt to impress a bunch of fifteen
year old girls.

   Well, truth be told, it DID impress two fifteen year old girls.  It
impressed Claire.  But I didn't know it then.  Then it was just an accident
that I didn't want to talk about.  It so happened that Unique Monique was
sitting in the suicide seat, and saw the whole sordid affair.  It impressed
her too.  She started laughing and laughed so hard that she couldn't tell
the girls in the back what had happened.  Claire started slapping at her,
yelling for her to "Shut UP!" And, when Monique finally caught her breath
Claire threatened her with terrible things if she opened her mouth.

   Of course that got the four in the back all riled up and yelling and
screaming about "What happened ...  what HAPPENED?"

   Claire was yelling "NEVER MIND." to them and "DON'T YOU SAY A WORD!" to
Monique, and I knew things were going to get crazy in a minute.

   So I accelerated to a hundred miles an hour and drove it that fast for a
whole mile down route 64.

   That did it.  There was still screaming, but it was now about something
completely different than the fact that I had just felt up my own sister's
pussy.  And, by the time I slowed down, which was only 36 seconds after I
hit the 100 mark on the speedometer, there was a hush in the car as
adrenaline flooded those young bodies and they concentrated on just
breathing.

   "Wow" said Claire.  She was talking about a lot more than the speed,
though I didn't know it then.

   "Yeah, she's got some guts." I said in typical manly tones, trying to
make them forget I'd muffed the shift ...  in more ways than one, now that
I think about it.

   Then I spent some time checking gauges and listening for bad sounds. 
I'd seen the tac climb into the red there for just a second while I was
groping Claire Bear.  But everything seemed to be OK, so I loafed along the
rest of the way.

   No more exhibitions of speed that night.  No sir.

   We got back to Junk Town and they all piled out and Claire leaned over
and kissed me on the cheek of all things!  "Thanks" she said, and scrambled
out after Monique.  None of the rest of them thanked me.  I was just
furniture to them.

   Now I just described that incident to the best of my memory, and in my
memory I clearly remember Claire threatening Monique with dire consequences
if she told the four in the back seat where my hand had been, albeit
accidentally and only for five or six seconds.

   So what does Claire do when they get back?  She takes them all up to her
room and then DESCRIBES IT in Technicolor, with details and sound effects,
while Monique adds in even MORE details in her witness testimony.  Only
Claire embellished it "a little" and Monique went along with it!

   Of course I wasn't there, but I heard about it later, from all six of
them at one time or another, and the way SHE told it was nothing like it
actually happened.

   According to Claire I grabbed her pussy and squeezed it, pressing my
finger between her plump pussy lips, like I was trying to rip a hole in her
terrycloth shorts.  Then I rubbed hard, and my fingers scrabbled at her
waistband, trying to slip inside, so I could get INSIDE her panties and
touch her naked pussy!  According to her, if it hadn't been for her panties
she'd have lost her cherry in an instant to my probing finger.  Then she
WRESTLED my hand out from between her legs, making me understand that I was
totally wrong to be doing this to her and exacting somehow, without words,
a promise that I'd do her chores for a month in penance for my
transgression.

   That was when Large Marge reputedly said "Why'd you make him stop?  I
bet it felt good."

   There were "EEwwww"s and shrieks and bedlam as Claire got all red in the
face (they all agreed that she blushed furiously) and shouted that I was
her BROTHER.

   Like they didn't know that or something.

   Large Marge just said "I think you should have let him do it longer."
and I guess the world, as we know it, came to an end or something.  It was
noisy, I'll tell you that.

   Like I said, I wasn't there, though I could hear some of it in an
undecipherable way.  I was sitting downstairs watching (lusting after)
Susan Dey playing Laurie on the Partridge Family.  Marge apparently broke
up the meeting of the posse, because they straggled out, under the
impression that I had intentionally groped my sister, giving me decidedly
odd looks.  Marge must have meant what she said because she actually said
"Good night Bobby." to me.  Monique just laughed and they left together.

   Claire didn't come down for another fifteen minutes, and when she did
she was flushed and breathing hard.  I didn't know enough about women to
know what that meant back then.  I found out what she'd been doing later.
But I'll tell you that later, because what I DID notice was that she was
awfully friendly to me, considering the social gaff that had occurred only
some forty-five minutes earlier.

   "What'cha watchin'?" she asked, though anybody could see what I was
watching.  Then she said "Oooo David Cassidy ...  he's so dreamy." and she
plopped down BESIDE me on the couch to watch.

   The first thing I noticed was her use of the word "dreamy", which had
gone out of use when I was ..  like eleven or something.  Then I noticed
she was sitting beside me.  Right beside me.  On the couch.  Where she had
all the room in the world to get away from her cootie-ridden brother.

   This was something new.  It's not like we fought all the time, but we
rarely had anything in common when it came to routine run-of-the-mill daily
activity type stuff.  Like watching TV.  If I liked it, she probably
didn't, and if she was watching it I knew I'd rather read or something.

   What?  You ask what she watched that I didn't find interesting?  Well,
I'd love to be able to tell you, cause then I wouldn't feel like the jerk
I'm going to appear to be.  I have no idea what she watched.  I just
assumed if she was interested in it, I wouldn't be.  It was just the way we
were.

   Then I saw Claire's eyes dart toward my lap.  Like I said, I'd been
watching Susan Dey, with those slitty little eyes and that perfect face,
and those tits that they always made her hide, but which couldn't be hidden
from a boy's fantasy.  She was a living Playboy model who just hadn't
gotten old enough for Mister Hefner to hire yet, and you could peek into
her life and see the routine run-of-the-mill daily activity type stuff she
did every day.  Whenever I watched that show I was in a constant state of
rigidity.

   So when Claire glanced at my lap, there was a rather obvious lump in it,
right under my zipper.

   So guys?  What the hell do you do when you've got a boner, and your
sister looks right at it?  I didn't know what to do.  So I blurted out
"It's because of Laurie ...  not you."

   Now doesn't that sound completely reasonable?  I mean I was telling the
truth, and since I had lately done something that the average girl might
accidentally think I had done on purpose, I thought that would clear things
up.

   Turns out Claire was an average girl.  A guy had grabbed her pussy and
then rubbed his hand up and down while pressing it against said pussy.  The
fact that it was her own brother didn't seem to matter.  Again, later, she
explained to me that, with all the stories she'd heard about my talent with
making girls feel so fabulous, she thought I was trying to demonstrate it
to her and she was ...  get this ...  flattered!

   And then she came in and sat down beside me and I demonstrated how cute
I thought she was some more by developing a nice manly erection.  That's
right, while I was apologizing, in my uncouth male way, for having a boner
that Susan Dey brought into the world, Claire assumed that my stiff dick
was more demonstration of just how cute I thought she was!

   OK, Guys, here's some wisdom for you.  I learned this the hard way - no
pun intended.  When you get a hardon around a girl, and she notices it, she
thinks she caused it.  It doesn't matter what you're watching on TV.  It
doesn't matter that the hottest girl in school just bent over ten feet away
to retie her saddle oxfords and you got a shot of panty.  She's with you
... you have a boner ...  she caused it.  Period.  It's female logic or
something.

   So, when you quite truthfully say "Hey, that hot chick on TV got me hard
as a rock.", she hears "Hey, you turn me on something fierce, but I can't
admit it cause you're my sister, so I'm going to pretend it was that so-so
looking girl on the boob tube."

   "It's OK." said my sister.  Imagine that.  It was OK with my sister that
I got a hardon for Susan Dey.

   OK, so now let's recap, to make sure you're getting this.  My hand
slipped off the T handle of my dad's shifter, and my hand accidentally
slapped my sister's love nest.  Accident.  No question about it.  Then I
rubbed my sister's pussy because her legs slammed closed and I couldn't get
my hand out.  Another accident.  She didn't mean to do it, so it was an
accident.  Then she misinterpreted what had happened, thinking that,
because I was a cocksman, I MEANT to rub her pussy because that's what I
did with all the other girls.  Purely an accidental misunderstanding of the
situation.

   So that's three accidents.  And that doesn't count the accident of her
walking in on me while I happened to be watching Susan Dey and had a boner,
or her accidental assumption that SHE caused the boner and that I was too
embarrassed to admit it.  So now we have three-to-five accidents that have
created a situation where I am thinking one thing and my sister is thinking
entirely another.

   So, when she got up an went to her room, I didn't think anything about
it.  I finished watching Susan Dey and then went to my own room.  I had
just gotten my hands on Heinlein's new book called "Stranger In A Strange
Land" and I was hooked on it after only two chapters.  It was close to
bedtime, and I liked to fall asleep reading.  I had better dreams when I
did that.

   So, when Claire stepped into my room and stood there silently, I didn't
even notice her for a few minutes.  I was lying on my back reading, in just
my Fruit Of The Looms, which is what I slept in, when she cleared her
throat.  I glanced over and saw Claire, (one) who wasn't supposed to come
in my room without permission and (two) was dressed how SHE sleeps, which
was in a T shirt and panties.

   Claire stood there, in that T shirt and those powder blue panties, for
all the world like she was completely dressed.

   "Bobby?" she said.  Her voice didn't sound nearly as confident as she
looked.

   "Interesting outfit" I commented.

   "Don't make fun of me." she said automatically.

   "Who says I'm making fun of you.  It IS an interesting outfit.  I'm a
guy and you're a girl, and the guy part of me thinks that's a really
interesting outfit."

   "Even though you've seen me in it, or something like it a thousand
times?" she asked.

   "Claire Bear ...  what do you want?" I asked.  Heinlein was calling me.

   "Does it look sexy?" she asked.

   "Claire, I'm your brother." I said unnecessarily.  "Brothers don't
usually think of their sisters as being sexy ...  or even not sexy."

   "But if you weren't my brother, would you think I looked sexy?" Girls
have a way of ignoring huge obstacles, and Claire was no different.  She
assumed that I could just forget she was my sister.  I tried squinting my
eyes so she blurred a little bit.  Now she was more or less a feminine
shape, but I lost so much definition that she just looked like she had on
flesh colored pants or something.

   Not being completely stupid, I opted to do the smart thing in this
situation.  "Yes, you're definitely sexy." I let my eyes go back to normal
and, to my immense surprise, as she came into focus I really saw the things
I'd been trying to imagine.  Her legs were long and, of course, bare, and
she had just enough spread in her hips to give her shape there before her
lines swept back in to her slim, flat stomach.  Then the T shirt bulged
where her breasts were.  I noticed nipples and was shocked.

   "Are you BRALESS?!" I whispered as loud as I could ...  you know ...  to
show I was shocked.

   She blushed.  "Yeah, does it look sexy?"

   What was all this "Do I look sexy" stuff, anyway?  She's always primped
and played with makeup and all that stuff, but it was more for other girls
to see than boys.  She hadn't been allowed to date, after all.  I suppose
she could have been showing herself off for boys at school, but it couldn't
lead to anything.  So why did she care?

   While I'd been thinking all this my eyes had gone on up to her hair,
which was in a pony tail.  I was rocked to my core as I realized she looked
...  fuckable!  She DID!  It was incredible.  My baby sister looked enough
like a woman that I contemplated her with some guy hunched over her,
between her legs, pounding away as she made those sounds you heard on the
occasional X-rated video tape that somebody snuck from home.  I felt a
tightness in my gut and realized two things that astounded me even more.

   First, I didn't like the idea of that amorphous guy between her legs. 
Not at all.  No matter how satisfied she sounded in my imagination.

   And second ...  I had a boner.

   And third, I was astounded to find out she'd been right!  I COULD look
at her as a female-other-than-my-sister.  That was what caused the boner.

   Now I was in a quandary.  My sister looked sexy.  No doubt about that.
My burgeoning prick was announcing it in a way that couldn't be missed. 
Even Claire wouldn't think I got a boner reading science fiction.  It was
obvious she WANTED me to think she looked sexy ...  but I wasn't at all
sure how she'd react if I said she did and had a boner to prove I was
telling the truth.

   "You have a boner!" she gasped.

   It wasn't the kind of gasp that told me what she thought about the fact
that I had a boner.  It could have been a gasp of disgust.  I decided to
try to take the safe road.

   "Yeah.  So what.  Guys get them.  Happens all the time." I wanted so bad
to reach down and straighten out my cock, which was trying to poke up
toward my face, but was caught in my shorts.  All it could do was make this
big lump.

   "So does that mean I look sexy?" she asked.  She took a step further
into the room as she asked that damned question again.

   I thought I might as well get it over with.  "Yes, it means you look
sexy.  There!  Are you satisfied?  Though why in the world you'd want your
brother to think you were sexy is beyond me." I tried to put it back on
her.

   She came two steps closer.  I could see her better, and her nipples were
prominent, like some of the girls had when they were all excited and I was
playing with them.  It made my dick even harder.

   "When we were on the strip?  And your hand went ...  there?" she
stopped.

   I didn't know what to say.

   "Yeah?" That was pretty noncommittal, I thought.

   "Was that on purpose?" she asked.  I say she asked, but that doesn't
convey the tone that was in her voice.  It was crystal clear to me that the
answer to this question was VERY important to her.  My problem was that I
didn't know if it was important GOOD ...  or important BAD.  I thought
furiously.  The way she was dressed, combined with the way she wanted me to
think she was sexy tipped the balance.

   "No" I said.  "It wasn't on purpose ...  and I'm sorry if it ticked you
off ...  but it was kind of funny too.  I guess what I'm saying is I hope
you aren't mad about it."

   "Nobody's ever touched me there before." she said, like that explained
everything.  It was quiet for a long minute and then she went on.  "It made
me feel all mooshy inside."

   I knew what she meant.  "Mooshy" was something I tried very hard to make
girls feel as I played with them.  I had succeeded on a number of
occasions, but it hadn't gotten me laid yet.  Still, for that brief contact
to have brought out that response in her made my hormones rush.  She had to
be very highly sexed if those few rubs had turned her on.  Still, she was
pretty young, and probably just confused about things.  Believe it or not,
my moral compass kicked in.

   "I wouldn't feel bad about that if I were you." I said sagely.  "That's
a pretty normal thing for a girl to feel when something like that happens.
Don't worry about it.  It'll go away."

   As I look back on it, that must have made her feel safer or something,
because she took another step and sat down on the edge of the bed.  The
edge of the bed where her brother, with a boner for her, was lying.  She
didn't say anything for what seemed like a long time.  Then something came
out that sounded almost forced.

   "When the girls left I had to rub myself." she said plain as the nipples
poking out of her T shirt.

   Now THAT was interesting.  I masturbated, of course.  But my little
sister?  Who'd have thought it?  I was astonished again.

   "I feel like rubbing myself again right now." she said.  "And it's all
your fault!"

   "How is it MY fault?!" I asked, incredulous.

   "Cause your hand felt good." she said.

   "But I'm your brother!" I stated the obvious with blinding clarity.

   "I know, and that's what makes me feel so weird about this.  I liked it
when my own brother touched my pussy.  That makes me a pervert or something
doesn't it?" She sounded like she wanted to be comforted.  Then she dropped
the bomb.  "Did you like it?  Touching me, I mean?"

   Now how does a guy answer a question like that?  I mean she wasn't
screaming at me or anything, so saying "Sure, I loved to feel your soft
teen pussy under my hand.  I wanted to squeeze it and slide a finger up in
you." might not garner a scream for the Police.  But I wasn't sure about
that either.  So I took the easy road, the road that worked with lots of
girls.

   "Claire, you're a beautiful sexy girl.  ANY guy would love to touch your
pussy." I started out to deliver that line with all my acting skills, and
then, to my surprise, found it didn't take any acting at all.  She WAS a
babe, and her pussy HAD felt soft and nice.

   Claire sat there for a long time, like she was thinking.  She looked at
me out of the corner of her eye, through a wisp of hair that was hanging
down beside her face.

   "I know what you do with those girls." she said.

   She had changed the subject and I didn't know how to respond.  So I
didn't.

   "I mean I know some of it." she corrected herself.  "I hear them talking
sometimes.  They don't talk about what you do when I'm there.  But
sometimes they don't know I'm listening."

   OK, so she had real information.  I still didn't say anything.

   "They say they rub themselves after you've played with them." Claire
looked straight at me now.  "Like I did."

   It was time to say something.  "Claire, you're not those girls.  They're
older." It was the best I could come up with there in the Twilight Zone.  I
wasn't too clear headed.

   "But I FELT like they say they feel when you touch them." she insisted.

   "But you're my sister." I reminded her.

   She got that look in her eye that I recognized as the danger look.  She
had that look when she was about to rat me out to Mom or Dad about
something I'd done that she knew I'd get in trouble for.  It was that "I'm
going to make you pay" look.

   "Which is why I can't understand why you look so hot to me right now." I
added hurriedly.

   The fact that Claire was only fifteen saved my bacon.  She bought that
line like a little pig opening up the door when the wolf knocks.  Not that
I was the wolf or anything.  I just wanted her to calm down and think
straight.  Which is why I was completely unprepared for what she said next.

   "If I rubbed myself, would you rub yourself too?  So I could see you?"
She asked that like she was asking a doctor just exactly how long she had
to live.  She was afraid of the answer, but really wanted to know.

   Do you remember those years when if a boy touched a girl she screamed
about cooties?  They grow out of that, but there is a time when they are
both attracted to and repelled by boys all at the same time.  That
love/hate relationship intensifies as puberty gets a really good Rotweiller
grip on a girl's body, and she wants things to happen with a boy, but not
too personally.

   That's where I had made my reputation.

   I was the guy who would do things for and with them that were scary, but
safe at the same time, and then stop when it got too scary.  A lot of girls
wanted to engage in masturbation while I did the same thing ...  two or
three feet away.  Four or five girls had made that kind of deal with me in
the past.  Girls really liked to do that for some reason.  It's like they
could be all naughty and get off, but be safe about it because they were
touching themselves, and I would be touching myself, so there would be no
cootie transfer possible, so to speak.  And it was fun for me too, cause I
knew where their hand was, and what it was doing ...  and touching. 
Usually, after a girl did that with me, we didn't go out any more.  They'd
see me in the hall or somewhere and blush and get all shy and embarrassed.
But that was OK, cause there was always another girl.

   So when my little sister suggested that we masturbate together, I
figured she would get her curiosity satisfied, and then get embarrassed and
that would be it.  I wouldn't blackmail her or anything, but she wouldn't
know that, so it might even make it easier to get along with her in the
future.

   Right?

   I said "OK."

   CHAPTER TWO

   So there we were.  My sister and I had just agreed to masturbate in
front of each other.  Now that's weird, any way that you look at it.  It
was weird because she was my sister.  But it was also weird because, as she
stood up, pushed down her shorts and pulled her shirt over her head, I was
with a naked teenaged girl for the first time ever.  I had done a lot of
fooling around with girls - don't get me wrong - but none of them had ever
been naked.  And I had never been naked in front of a girl either.  PARTS
of me had been naked, but never the whole shebang.

   So it was surreal as I got got up and pushed my skivvies down and
suddenly I was naked with my sister.  Of course my peter didn't think so.
As soon as I saw her luscious soft titties and that fluff of pussy hair I
had the hardest boner of my life.  It just screamed to be stroked and I
found my hand wrapped around it before I realized I had even done that.

   Claire was looking at me.  "Wait for me" she panted.  "Don't start
without me." She went over to my bed and got up on it.  She leaned back
against the headboard and then leaned forward and grabbed my pillow to put
behind her.  I was standing there, my hand wrapped firmly around my prick,
squeezing it hard, because that suddenly felt really good.

   Claire looked at me and there was a sort of pleading in her eyes.  She
didn't have to tell me how vulnerable she felt, because it took her a few
seconds to get up the courage to bare herself to her first boy ...  her
brother.  And, when Claire drew her knees up and let them fall apart,
exposing her whole pussy to me, I thought I'd shoot right then and there. I
squeezed harder.  It had never felt this good before.

   I saw the fear and nervousness fade in her eyes as I didn't laugh or say
something to put her down or whatever she expected her big brother to do
that he didn't.

   "It's pretty." she said, as she slid her hand over her abdomen, toward
that beautiful pussy.  She was staring at what was in my hand.

   Even though I didn't want to think about my penis as being "pretty", I
wasn't about to get into an argument about semantics.

   "It's big too." she breathed.

   Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!

   She curled up all but three fingers and then covered her pussy with
them. I think I moaned.  I hated to see that beautiful pussy covered up. 
Then she started doing little circles with those three fingers and her head
went back, like she was staring up at the ceiling.

   "Ohhh Bobby this feels so good." she moaned.  Her head tilted back down
and she looked at me.  If you're ever in the jungle, and you suddenly come
face to face with a hungry tiger or something, you will see the look I saw
in her eyes.  I knew if I jerked more than twice I'd blow spooge all over
the place.

   Then she let her middle finger bend and it disappeared inside her.

   That was it for me.  I felt semen trying like crazy to get out of my
cock, but I didn't want it to be over so fast.  I squeezed hard and felt
like my head was going to explode.  Drips of white oozed out of my piss
hole and started stringing out, like somebody was trying to lower sheets to
the ground to climb down during an escape.

   "Ooooo" sighed Claire, her eyes riveted to that long string of cum.

   Now I had this problem of not wanting it to end so soon, but wanting to
spurt so bad I couldn't stand it.  I shouldn't have done it, but something
just made me.  I took two steps toward her and jacked on my cock four or
five times fast.  Cum rocketed out of my prick and arced through the air to
land on her arm and stomach.  I felt the second shot coming and leaned my
hips forward about the same time she realized what had happened.  I thought
she'd scream at me, but her eyes went wide and her hand blurred as she
rubbed her clitty hard and fast.  There came a sound from her throat I
didn't think a human being could actually make and I realized she was
cumming with me.  My second shot splatted right on her left breast, making
a line across the nipple.

   I was so excited that I couldn't even aim the last two or three shots
and they landed mostly on the bedspread beside her, or dripped to the
floor. I got so light-headed that I had to let go of my cock and lean
forward to support myself on the bed.  That put my head only a foot and a
half from her pussy as she continued rubbing it frantically.  She let her
knees fall to the sides as her butt jerked upwards and her finger flashed
in and out of her pussy.

   I could smell her.

   She smelled fantastic.

   Just then she dragged her finger out of her and, just before those
perfect pink lips closed up again, I could see into her pussy tunnel.  It
was wet in there.  Clear liquid was seeping out between her lips.

   "I can feel you breathing on me" she panted.  "That was so hot!"

   I just leaned and panted on her pussy.  Finally I could get enough air
to talk.  "You should shave your pussy hair off." I gasped.  "That would
look sooo good."

   I have to mention here that Claire was the kind of girl who gets
energized by an orgasm.  When she has one she's all perky and happy and
full of energy.  She sat up and suddenly her bare titty was inches from my
face.  There was a drip of my cum hanging from the nipple.

   "You really think so?" she asked excitedly.

   "Oh yeah" I groaned.  "But then I'd want to touch it, so maybe you
better not."

   "Ick!" she said suddenly.  "You got your stuff all over me." She touched
one finger to the drip on her nipple.  "It was warm at first, but now it's
getting cold.  Let me up.  I need to go clean up."

   I staggered back, my dick still dripping spunk and she bounced up off
the bed like it was the first day after school was out for the summer.  She
grabbed her shirt and panties and, after peeking out of the door to make
sure the coast was clear, darted into the bathroom across the hall.

   I got stuck cleaning up the mess.  In the end I just wadded up the bed
spread and used it to wipe everything else up.  Then I put my shorts back
on and took it to the laundry room and got the washer going.  I didn't even
care if my mom appeared and wanted to know what the heck I was doing
washing clothes after bedtime.  But she didn't, and I just went back and
fell into bed.  I had a hard time getting to sleep because I kept replaying
the whole thing in my mind.  I couldn't believe we'd done it.

   Or that I'd loved doing it so much.

   Claire had this amazing ability to take things in stride.  Something
pretty momentous had happened, as far as I was concerned.  But at breakfast
the next morning she acted just like usual.  No blushes.  No furtive looks.
No apparent guilty conscience.  She was just Claire.  In fact, all day long
she was just ...  Claire.

   Which is why, that night, after Mom and Dad had gone to bed, I was
actually surprised when she slipped through the partially opened door of my
room again.  And again she was only wearing panties and a T shirt.

   She had that look in her eye again.  The one that made the hairs stand
up all over me.  And she had a magazine in her hand.  It was one of those
magazines for women.  I don't even remember what it was called.  Today it
would be like 'Seventeen' or something.

   "Look at this." she whispered.  She held the magazine out and the great
big headline to the story read "IS SEX GOOD FOR YOUR SKIN?"

   "So?" I responded.  What was I supposed to do, read it?  I was too busy
staring at the two little points on the front of her T shirt that told me
she wasn't wearing anything under it again.  Suddenly I smelled that odor
again.  Her odor.  She was excited!  I mean ...  that way ...  you know ...
like last night.

   "It says that semen has all these things in it that are good for your
skin.  They actually say you should RUB IT IN!" Her whisper was really loud
and I shushed her, looking anxiously at the door.

   She looked too.  "They won't hear anything.  A bomb wouldn't wake them
up.  I dropped a pan in the kitchen one night and it was loud enough to
wake the dead and they slept right through it."

   "Yeah, but do you have ANY idea what they'd do to us if they caught us?"
I asked.

   Claire stood up and looked around.  Her pony tail swished in the air.

   "What?  We're not doing anything.  We're just talking."

   "What do you want Claire?" I asked.  It was a legitimate question.

   "I want to do it again."

   "What we did last night?" I thought her curiosity had been satisfied and
I'd never see hide nor hair of her naked body again.

   Boy was I wrong.  You remember that 'Claire takes things in stride'
thing I told you?

   "Yeah." she said, breathing deeply.

   It was strange, looking at my sister and thinking 'Man, I'd like to see
her naked again.' But hey, I'm a guy, right?

   "OK" I said.

   She almost yipped as she jumped up and down.  That did the most amazing
things to her unfettered breasts and they wobbled beautifully inside her T
shirt.  That shirt was the first thing to go and those wonderful soft
looking pink tipped breasts came into view again.  I got hard almost
instantly and my briefs jutted out obscenely.

   Then she took her panties off and the breath caught in my chest.

   She had shaved.

   And, like I had told her ...  it made me want to touch it.  I had the
insane urge to lick my sister's pussy.  It made my hands twitch.

   Claire stood there, looking beautiful, biting her lower lip as she
waited for me to say something.

   "Fuck ...  it's beautiful" I blurted.

   You have to cut me a little slack here.  I had touched several pussies,
but most of that was groping in a back seat somewhere, and only once had I
gotten my hand inside a girl's panties.  She creamed almost immediately and
then got scared and made me take my hand out of her pants.  So, while I had
this reputation for being all knowing and all that crap, I was looking at
something I'd only seen once before, and even then it had been mostly
covered by her fingers.  Even though she was standing with her legs
together, I could see the protrusion of her pussy lips in a little hollow
kind of place right up high between her thighs.  And they did look like
lips!  They were pressed together, like my mother's lips are - the ones on
her face - when she's pissed off about something.  But they were also
fatter and so pale as to be almost white.  They just BEGGED to be kissed
and licked.

   Claire was excited, but not at the same level I was.  "Really?  You
think so?  It was really weird shaving.  I was afraid I was going to cut
myself and I was so nervous it took half an hour."

   "Lie down." I suggested "I want to see better."

   My poor trusting sister lay down on the bed as I got off of it to make
room for her, and she splayed her legs wide, with no hesitation this time,
no shame whatsoever.  She was looking at the lump in my shorts.  She drew
her knees up so her feet were flat on the bed.

   Then she made the fateful comment: "Aren't you going to get undressed
too?"

   OK, I know it's actually a fateful question, rather than a fateful
comment, but the point is it's actually her fault that, when I climbed onto
the bed, my rock hard and leaking prick was naked and ready to do what it
was intended to do.  I wasn't planning on doing anything other than rubbing
the skin off of it, but I steadfastly maintain that I'd have left my briefs
on to look at her pussy if she hadn't suggested I take them off.

   But I did take them off.

   So, when I got up there and crawled between her legs, my prick was stiff
as a board and pointing right at her, like one of those hunting dogs that
points at the bird hidden in the grass.  I leaned in and saw those soft
kissable lips up close and ...  well ...  I kissed them.

   What I actually did was smash my face into her mons and bite them with
my lips.  My tongue came out and slithered right between those tightly
closed lips and I sucked, all at the same time.

   Claire froze.  I mean she went rigid like she was actually a department
store mannequin or something.

   Then she unfroze and her thighs slammed together on my ears as her hands
grabbed two handfuls of my hair.  And her knees went back apart like they
were operated by springs or something.  I felt the hands ripping my hair
out by the roots begin to push me away, and then, a split part of a split
second later they reversed course and pulled instead of pushing.  I felt
the bed depress as she dug her heels in and she PUSHED her pussy up into my
face at the same time she jerked my hair hard enough to make me grunt with
pain.

   I will never forget the sound that came out of her throat.  I've heard
it lots of times since then, and it sounds remarkably similar regardless of
what woman makes it.  It was a whoosh of air that something was trying to
cut off, and that 'something' made a groaning whining sound that made my
dick jump and dribble.

   All this was happening at the same time my mind was going about a
thousand miles an hour.  I had lots of thoughts, among them "Oh shit, what
have I done now?" and "She's going to scream and Mom and Dad are going to
bust through the door and kill me!" and "MAN SHE TASTES GOOD!" and I was
noticing the texture and smoothness of her mound and those lips, which all
of a sudden weren't so tight and weren't so closed up.  And finally, I was
suddenly afraid that I'd scared her so much that she'd peed her pants.

   Well, not her pants, but you know what I mean.  That was because there
was this rush of wet against my face.  As it turned out, she was so primed,
thinking about rubbing off in front of me, that the sensations I caused in
her caused her orgasm to burst on her unawares.  For both of us.

   Well, after she entered that orgasm and pulled my hair out, she let go.
I pulled my face back and saw a pussy that had undergone some changes.  It
wasn't flesh colored any more.  It was red, and her pussy lips were open
now, showing me that dark hole that went up inside her.  And it glistened
with all that moisture.  I looked up and saw her looking back at me with
eyes so wide that I could see white all around the dark centers.  She was
gasping for air, her breasts moving up and down two or three inches.

   "Do that AGAIN!" she panted.

   Like I said, Claire took things in stride.

   I stared at her pussy and saw that mythical thing I'd heard so much
about, and managed to actually touch, that one time when I got my hand in
that girl's pants.  It was her clit.  I was amazed.  I didn't know what to
compare it to back then.  Since then, though, I think the closest thing
that comes to mind is that arcade game where there are a bunch of holes and
you have a hammer or club and a mole head pops up out of one of the holes
and you have to try to hit it before it pops back down.  Well, her clit
looked like a little tiny mole head just starting to poke out of a really
tight hole.

   I knew that was a prime place to touch a girl and I'd always wanted to
play with a clit.  So I leaned down and clamped my lips around it and
sucked.

   I lost some more hair.

   She was slippery.  I knew now that she hadn't peed, and that whatever
that slippery tangy tasting stuff was, it was a good thing that meant she
was having a good time.  She started moaning and saying my name over and
over.  She was getting louder but I didn't care because I was having the
time of my short life.

   We both got way too excited.  I know that now.  But then, in the heat of
the situation, you just don't think.  She squirted my face again and told
me she loved me and to never stop and somehow I sort of ended up on top of
her and somehow my prick sort of went in her a little.

   OK, that's not true.  When I was wiggling around on top of her it was
because she pulled me up for a kiss.  She took my wet slippery face in
stride too and it was during that kiss that it felt good to rub my prick
against her, so I did that, and it was while I was doing that that I felt
heat all around the tip of my cock.  And that just felt so good I pushed. I
didn't MEAN to.  But when I pushed, what with all that slippery stuff
coating her pussy mouth, my cock just slid right in and when I pushed there
was this resistance, but then it disappeared and I slid in farther.

   That was when she hissed and went "OooOOOWWWWW BOBBEEEEEE!!!"

   We both knew I had just popped her cherry.  We weren't so stupid as to
wonder what was going on.  I was half buried in her and it hadn't felt very
good on her part.  I wasn't complaining.  For me it had felt fabulous.  But
still, just the knowledge that you have just popped your sister's cherry
has a pretty big impact on you.  I know it had a big impact on me.  I
stopped.

   Claire was still making these little "I'm not very happy any more"
sounds and was king of wiggling her butt around, maybe like she was trying
to get comfortable or something.  Or trying to get away from me.  And what
she was actually doing was kind of sliding back and forth on my prick a
little bit.  I suddenly realized her hands were on my sides.

   Then some more of that impact on me happened.  My prick notified my
brain that only half of it was nice and warm and buried in yummy hot flesh.
And my brain called to my back muscles and yelled "Give 'em a little help!"
So my back muscles bunched up and I jammed another two inches of hard cock
into my sister's pussy.

   Now, a piece of my brain knew that was the wrong thing to do.  But it
was a little like that thing where you're supposed to pat your head with
one hand and rub your stomach with the other hand all at the same time. 
The brain knows what it's supposed to do, but usually something else
happens instead.  And my brain was telling me to push hard, but reminding
me I had no business porking the shit out of my sister all at the same
time. And the fact that Claire made it sound like a cat convention, what
with all her hissing and spitting and yowling, made it pretty clear that
her brain was in agreement that it was time to vacate her pussy.

   I got most of the way out.  Then that other part of my brain missed all
that nice warm pussy flesh and told me to get back in there.  So I did
that, and was immediately rewarded with that wonderful feeling that nothing
else even comes close to, where your prick is surrounded by hot, clasping
pussy flesh.

   Long story short, there was this little war going on in my head, and the
result was the ...  ebb and flow, if you will ...  of my little trooper. 
He advanced and retreated until he couldn't seem to make up his mind
whether to go forward or pull back.

   It was about then that I realized the cat convention had disbanded, and
Claire had joined the group of women who made those noises in motel rooms,
or on X-rated videos.  And she was good at it too!  She sounded like she
really meant it.

   I know this sounds a little disjointed in the telling.  But I was prick
deep in losing my virginity, while taking my sister's virginity, and my
mind wasn't quite at a hundred percent.  My memory wasn't quite at a
hundred percent after it was over either.

   Anyway, the next thing I remember was when her fingernails were digging
for oil in my back and she was whining and moaning and she hit the note
that was hooked to the sonic switch in my balls, because my prick, which
had been so trustworthy up to then, started spurting spunk while it was
still buried in her belly.

   I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that was a run-on
sentence, and that no self respecting author would use one in a decent
story.

   Well, I had just fucked my own sister, popping her only cherry. 
Moreover I had just spurted her full of incestuous brother spunk and there
was no way in the world she was on any birth control.  So that means I
can't lay any claim at all to being self respecting.  And since this story
starts out with incest, I can't claim it's decent either.  So all I can
tell you is that the whole incident was like a long run-on sentence that
kept going and going and dragging me along with it until it abruptly ended.
Leaving me breathless, I might add.  Just like a run-on sentence.

   Claire was lying under me gasping for air.  I pushed up off of her,
hating to feel her body separating from me, and looked down at her.  It was
another one of those moments of truth.  I had just popped my sister's
cherry, without her asking for it.  It had hurt.  I had filled her up with
baby makers.  So I really couldn't expect her to be happy about it.  And
this was her first real chance to tell me what a selfish, perverted, unkind
jerk I really was.

   She had this stupid grin on her face.  "Do that AGAIN!" she panted.

   Did I mention before that Claire always took things in stride?

   ------------------------------------------------------------

   Well, now you know what happened with Claire ...  how a pure accident
led to something that was not quite accidental, but not intentional either.
I still couldn't believe I had packed my sister's pussy plumb full of my
seed.  And on top of that she actually said "Thank you." when we were done.
I'd had a pretty good time too, and I told her so.  I also told her I was
interested in doing it again.  She gave me a brilliant smile and said
"We'll see.  I need to see if I get my next period first."

   Well, that was sobering.  I hadn't really thought a whole lot about that
possibility.  But then what teens do when they're ass deep in hormones and
fucking like crazy?  But she seemed to be taking the possibility I'd
knocked her up in stride, just like she took everything in stride, so I
decided not to worry about it.

   The next Friday night was a sleepover night for the posse.  They had
those every month, sometimes even more frequently, and in the past I had
tried to make myself scarce when they were all over there doing the pajama
thing.  It wasn't that I didn't like looking at them in their nightgowns. I
liked that a LOT!  But they invariably picked on me and teased me and
generally made themselves a pain in the ass.

   But there had been times when I was there at the same time they were,
and I almost always heard something interesting in their chatter. 
Especially if I actually tried to listen.  I had no idea if Claire would
cop to what we'd done, but I knew if she did it would be ...  interesting.
I also knew that I'd probably be dead within a week if she did spill the
beans.

   So this time I planned on staying home.  In fact I went farther than
that.  Claire's room shared a wall with mine, and her closet was beside my
closet.  I knew she never closed her closet doors.  They were those folding
type doors with louvers in them, and she just left them folded to the side.
So I figured that if I made a few well placed holes in the closet wall, I
might be able to hear what they were saying if they were in her room.  Of
course they gathered and lounged all over the house, but I figured if they
talked about sex it would be in the privacy of her room.

   I was right.

   I knew she was going to tell them at supper.  She was all excited ....
more excited than she should have been for a routine visit of the posse. 
After supper I got her in the hallway and told her "Don't do anything
stupid tonight."

   "Why Bobby!  Whatever are you talking about?" she grinned.  She actually
grinned at me!

   "You know exactly what I'm talking about.  You tell them what we did and
it will be all over the neighborhood by morning, and parents will be
talking to Mom and Dad before breakfast."

   She stuck her cute little nose up in the air.  "Don't you worry about
it. I know what I'm doing."

   I leaned over her.  I had her by at least two inches.  It wasn't like
she couldn't go anywhere, but she'd have had to duck to one side.  "You
just keep your mouth closed." I warned her.

   My mother scared both of us to death.  "Bobby!" she said sternly.  "Quit
harassing your sister." She had come into the hallway and we had been so
centered on each other that we hadn't noticed.  I wondered how much she'd
heard.

   Claire wasn't worried though.  "Thank you Mommy" she said in that syrupy
sweet voice she used to get what she wanted.  "He was being mean to me."

   "Why can't you two love each other?" said my Mom in an exasperated
voice.

   If only she knew.

   But it didn't sound like she did, so I relaxed and backed off.  But my
ear was plastered to the three little holes I had drilled in the wall when
I knew the girls were in Claire's room.

   And I was right about Claire telling them too.  Except I was wrong about
how she did it.  She waited until the last one was there, and they all
trooped into her room and slammed the door.  I had to stand up in the
closet.  I had decided the best place to drill the holes was right behind
all her clothes, where she wouldn't be likely to see any light shining
through them or anything.

   "Close the door!" I heard Claire say.  I could hear the excitement in
her voice.  "I have something special to tell you."

   I was sweating buckets and not because it was hot in my closet.



   CHAPTER THREE

   "You won't BELIEVE what happened to me!" she started out.  Then there
were the obligatory guesses.  I couldn't sort out the voices, but they
ranged from "Your Mom caved and let you get that bikini you wanted!" to
"You flunked that math test, didn't you." Not one of them guessed that
she'd lost her virginity.

   After she let them guess the wrong things for a minute or so, she
whispered, in a loud whisper.  "I got my cherry popped!"

   Dead silence.  At least for ten seconds.

   Then it was bedlam, with all of them screaming like only fifteen year
old girls can scream.

   Then there were the rapid fire questions.  "Who was it?" "What was it
like" "Are you lying to us?" "Did it hurt?" "WHO WAS IT?"

   That last question got asked a lot.  Finally it quieted down.  I could
just see Claire standing there grinning, holding court, waiting for the
masses to quiet so she could tell them all the lurid details.  This was it.
My life would be over.  I'd be sent to reform school.

   Claire's voice piped up again.  "I can't tell you who did it."

   There was a chorus of complaints.

   My sister went on.  "Really, I can't.  I swore to keep it secret.  The
guy could get in a lot of trouble because of my age." That made sense to
them, but the other questions were re-asked.  Claire began what sounded
like a prepared speech.  "It was wonderful.  Really.  It felt sooo good I
wanted it to last forever.  And he was so gentle with me, and he really
cared about how I felt.  If I wasn't so scared about getting pregnant I'd
let him do it again."

   Monique spoke up.  "You mean he didn't even use a rubber?" She sounded
incredulous.

   Claire defended herself.  "It all happened kind of fast.  I mean we
weren't planning on doing it, and then it kind of happened and besides that
he felt so warm inside me I don't think I'd like it if he used a rubber
anyway."

   Suzie was next.  "Did he ...  you know ...  squirt in you?"

   Claire sighed.  "Oh yes and that was almost the best part.  His ... 
thing ...  jumped each time it squirted and I could feel it and it was hot
and wet feeling and it was just yummy."

   Marge chimed in .  "I can't believe this.  You've only been allowed to
date for a month.  Come on Claire, who WAS it?"

   "Even if I did tell you ...  and I promised not to ...  you wouldn't
believe me anyway.  He's ...  older." She couldn't resist giving them
clues. I had relaxed a little when she refused to tell them, but they were
sharp girls, and if she gave them too many clues they were smart enough to
do a little investigating and find out who she'd been seen out with.

   "How come you didn't tell us you were going on a date?" That was Marge
again.  She sounded suspicious to me.

   "Yeah, if you weren't planning on doing it why wouldn't you tell us you
were going out?" Knobby Robby finally made her debut as an inquisitor.

   Claire was caught off guard.  "Well ...  um ...  it wasn't a date
exactly.  I mean we didn't plan on anything to happen."

   Marge bored in.  "So you met this guy, and didn't plan on anything, and
skipped the first kiss, and the petting and went straight to getting it
on?! What's going on Claire?  Come on, give!"

   The pressure was growing.  I could feel the tension through the little
holes in the wall.  I was sweating again.

   Claire tried to buck up.  "It doesn't MATTER who it was!" she yelled -
entirely too loud in my opinion.  "All that matters is that it happened,
and I'm glad it happened, and you all just HAVE to try it!"

   More bedlam as five girls squealed and screamed and yelled about how
they were going to do this, or not going to do that, and who would they do
it with anyway and on and on.

   When it finally quieted down Claire said "I might know somebody you
could do it with." Her attitude was like she hadn't listened to any of
their objections.  If the Sheriff said they were going to get their
cherries popped, then that was what they were going to do.

   Donna spoke up for the first time.  "Who is it?"

   Claire was still trying to control things, though.  "I'm not going to
tell you until you all agree to do it."

   I had been about to leave my closet, because I was getting tired.  I had
been all tensed up, listening to what I was sure was going to be my
downfall.  But her offer to find them a hard prick had me glued to the
wall. I mean it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who she was
talking about.  Not to me anyway.  As far as I knew, she only had access to
one rigid prick, and it was ...  mine.

   I was suddenly and urgently interested in what would come next.

   I'm here to tell you Claire had an iron grip on her posse.  It only took
her forty-five minutes to get them all to agree to lose their virginity to
a man of HER choice.  I also learned that they had some kind of solemn oath
that they took when something really important was in the offing.  They all
repeated a bunch of words that I couldn't understand because they weren't
quite saying them all at the same time, and then Donna demanded again "OK,
now who is it?"

   There was a period of silence that about killed me and then Claire said
"Bobby."

   I expected pandemonium again, but it was strangely quiet.

   Marge suddenly blurted "I KNEW IT!"

   Claire said "I didn't say I did it with Bobby.  I said YOU GUYS are
going to do it with Bobby."

   Suzie said "Oh Claire ...  I don't know about this."

   "You swore!" accused Claire.

   "Yeah, but that was before I knew it would be your brother."

   Marge broke in.  "I kind of like the idea.  I've thought he was cute for
a long time."

   THEN the pandemonium set in again.  I heard, variously, "How do you know
he'll do it?" and "OH, he'll do it OK" and "Bobby?  I can't imagine doing
it with Bobby!" and "OK Margie, since you think he's so cute you have to be
first." and "Bobby?  I can't do it with Bobby!" and "I guess doing it with
Bobby wouldn't be so bad." and a whole bunch more.

   The only one I never heard say a single word was Knobby Robby.

   By then I was all cramped up.  When they started talking about planning
dates based on their cycles, and whether to use rubbers or not and all that
stuff I limped out of my closet and lay down on the bed.

   I hadn't even felt it happen, but I was hard as a rock.

   Now I have to tell you that, despite what I'd heard through that wall, I
didn't actually think anything was going to happen with the posse.  I mean
that was all just talk, right?  But a guy can dream, and I'd seen enough of
the posse in bathing suits and pajamas to be able to bring up some images
that made my stiff dick really happy.

   I also knew that, with the posse there, Claire wouldn't be coming into
my room for anything involving my dick, so I started stroking it slowly,
thinking of Donna and that picture in the Playboy of the other Donna.

   So imagine my surprise when my door opened and Claire walked in like she
owned the place.

   Her eyes got big as she saw what I was doing.  I had just pushed my
shorts down enough to get to Mr.  Happy and was just lying there on my
back, my hand wrapped firmly around him.  My first thought was that
member(s) of the posse might be right behind her.  I stuffed my dork back
in my shorts and half sat up.

   "Shit Claire!" I gasped.  "You scared the crap out of me!" I was caught
between sitting up and lying down and rocked on the bed until I got my legs
involved and sat all the way up.

   "What are you doing?" she gasped back.

   I think it was one of those rhetorical questions.  She knew exactly what
I was doing.  She'd seen me do it before, after all.

   "You need to learn to knock." I grumbled.

   "You're supposed to save that for me." she said in a loud whisper.

   Now where did that come from?  The last I heard was we 'might' do it
again some time ...  if she felt like it, and wasn't pregnant.

   I remembered that I wasn't supposed to know anything about the
conversation she'd just had with the posse.  "What do you want.  You can't
want to do that with all the girls here." I said.

   That reminded her of why she'd come barging into my room in the first
place.

   "Um ...  I wanted to ask you something." she said.  She looked uncertain
about how to go on.

   "OK ..." I prompted.

   "Well, you know what we did, right?" She looked like she actually wanted
me to tell her I remembered.  She was just full of stupid questions that
night.  But she went on.  "Um ...  what if somebody else wanted to do that,
but not with their boyfriend?  Like, maybe for practice or something.  I
mean would you help them learn how to do it?"

   There was another stupid question.  What guy would say "No, I don't
think I'm interested in getting in a girl's panties if she doesn't want to
hang on me like a third arm, and talk about marriage some day and tell the
world I'm hers."

   But I didn't want to sound needy, so I said "I guess it would depend on
who the girl was." Then I added.  "Why would a girl want to do that
anyway?"

   Now I didn't think that was a stupid question, but Claire acted like it
was.

   "Why did I want to know what it was like?  It sure wasn't because you're
such a stud or anything.  I just wanted to know what if felt like."

   Oh, so now she was just experimenting, and all that stuff about how hot
it would be to see me jack off was forgotten.  As I recalled things, I'd
almost raped her, except that it turned out that after that first little
split second of shock when my mouth touched her she wasn't in the mood to
resist.  And now, somehow, she had decided that she LET me fuck her because
she was curious.

   Who understands the way girls think?

   So I tried to act 'normal'.  "OK, OK, so who is it?"

   "You'll do it then?" she asked.  Claire was really into getting
commitment before she gave out all the information.  She'd probably grow up
to sell insurance or something.

   "I might ...  depending on who it is." I insisted.

   She looked exasperated.  The Sheriff wasn't used to people questioning
her authority.

   "What if it was one of the girls in the posse?" she asked.

   I tried to look surprised.  "Well, most of them are kind of cute I guess
it would depend on which one." I had to act normal, right?

   Claire didn't know what to do now.  She looked at me with a frown.  Then
she looked behind her, at the closed door.  "What if it was Marge?" she
asked finally.

   I made my eyebrows go up.  I was so proud of myself.  "Marge wants me to
screw her?" I asked.

   Claire's frown deepened.  "You make it sound so dirty!" she said.  I
didn't find out until later that "screwing" was something dirty people did.
Nice people 'made love' as far as Claire was concerned.  They might 'fuck',
but you could only call it that while you were actually doing it.

   Like I said, who understands the way girls think?

   I decided that Claire was too much in charge here.  So I went on
defense. "Did you tell them what we did?" I whispered fiercely.  Or at
least what I thought would sound fierce.

   Her reaction was fabulous.  "No!  Of course not!  Why would I do that?"
she asked, trying to look just as injured as I was trying to sound fierce.

   "Why all this sudden interest in ...  me?  By Marge, I mean." I asked.

   "Well, maybe it came up in conversation that I wasn't a virgin any
more," she said, looking off to one side of me.  She couldn't quite meet my
gaze.  "But I didn't tell them how it happened or anything like that.  I
just said I liked it, and Marge said she might want to find out what it was
like too."

   She was good.  I had to give her that.  If I hadn't listened at the wall
I might have bought it.  But I knew that Claire didn't want to be the only
one who knew what it was like to have a stiff cock in her pussy, and that
if the whole posse did it too then she wouldn't have to feel like she was a
pervert or something.  At least that's what I thought.

   "So I was good?" I asked.

   Claire looked confused for a few seconds until she realized she had
complimented me on my lovemaking skills, such as they were.  I could just
hear the gears turning in her pretty little head.  If she said what she
wanted to say, it would probably be something like "IT was good.  All you
were was a stiff prick.  Doing it with a dildo would be just as good except
your prick is warm." That's what a normal sister might say to her brother.

   Come to think of it, if a brother and sister have had sex, can they be
called normal at all from then on?  Would they argue about sex the same way
they argue about chores?

   Sorry, I digress.

   She didn't say that.  Instead she turned on the charm.  "Well of course
you were good.  I mean you were my first, and I don't have anybody to
compare you to, but I had a really good time Bobby.  And I think Marge
would have a good time too if you were maybe a little more gentle or
something.  Come on, wouldn't you like to see Margie naked?"

   Another stupid question.  But guys are stupid too sometimes, and that
question reoriented my thinking.  Of COURSE I 'd like to see Large Marge
naked.  Those huge tits must be mouth watering.  I'd dreamed of seeing
those tits for a long time.

   I remembered to use restraint.  "Well, I guess that would be cool." I
decided to turn on some charm too.  "You were really beautiful."

   She actually blushed!  Score one for the males of the species.

   "So you'll do it?" she was eager now.

   "When?" I asked.  I had to get ready for this.  If I didn't want to
squirt instantly - and I knew I would - I'd have to beat off before we did
any fooling around.

   "Now." she said.  "Tonight."

   Shit!  That took me by surprise.  My cock had softened while we talked.
But it spoke up now.  It said "Yes!  OK!  Bring it on!" What came out of my
mouth was an astonished "OK."

   She said "Cool", and turned around to leave.

   I panicked.  My mind was screaming "NO!  Wait, I need to get ready for
this!  What about Mom and Dad?  What about birth control?  Do I need to
take a shower?  What about cologne?  Should I shave?" That last part was
pretty silly.  I shaved once every month or so just so I could say I did,
but leaving the blade out of the razor wouldn't have made any difference to
the final result.

   But she was gone and the door was closed and I was left there with the
shakes, wondering if I'd just made a horrible mistake.

   I'm not sure Marge was as eager to lose her virginity as Claire let on,
because it was a long time before there was a timid knock at my door.  Long
enough that I had time to calm down and think about things.  I mean how
different was this from what I did with the older girls?  I'd just play
with Marge and if she had a good time and wanted more I'd do more.  And if
she froze up then that was OK too.  She really was beautiful, so it was a
win/win situation regardless of how far things went.  Even if all we did
was kiss and grope a little it would be OK.  I'd beaten off after dates
plenty of times.

   I arranged myself artfully on the bed, lying on my side, holding my head
up with one hand, the other hand draped across my stomach.  I saw an issue
of "True Detective" at my Aunt's house, and it had a picture of a guy lying
like that with a babe looking at him like she wanted to jump his bones.  I
was going for suave and debonair.

   Marge stuck her head in the door.  Just her head.  "Can I talk to you?"
she asked.

   "Sure." I said suavely.

   She came in and stopped.  She had on pajamas with pictures of Barbie on
them.  Barbie was another fantasy of mine, so that was just fine.

   "You're half naked!" she squeaked.

   She didn't sound like a girl who was full of lust and who couldn't wait
to have me climb between what I was sure were her soft, flawless thighs.

   "Well, uh ...  I sleep this way." I managed.  Suave and debonair flew
right out the window.  I made a hasty grab at the tail end of debonair. 
"You've seen me like this at the pool lots of times."

   "Oh.  Yeah." she relaxed a little.  She didn't move though.  I thought I
had managed to coax debonair back into the room, so I patted the bed beside
my stomach.  "Have a seat.  What do you want to talk about?"

   This is a game that adults play all the time.  Both the man and the
woman know what they want.  They want good, sweaty, hot sex, with a juicy
orgasm at the end.  But for some reason they aren't honest about it in the
beginning.  They have to play the game of trying to convince each other
that sex is the last thing on their mind, and that nice, unsexy
conversation is what this is really all about.  I think kids learn that
from adults without actually thinking about it.  Like through osmosis or
something.

   What I really wanted to say was "Get naked baby, and let's do the bump
ugly!" But what I said was "Have a seat.  What do you want to talk about?"

   Marge had learned the game too, whether she knew it or not.  She came a
few steps closer and asked, "Do you like me?"

   This, from a girl who had tormented me on every occasion she could for
the last three or four years.

   My response made about as much sense.  "Sure, you're OK for a girl."

   I said we learned the game by osmosis.  But we weren't any good at the
game.  Being good at the game takes practice, and neither Large Marge nor I
had much of that.

   She was incensed.  "Bobby!  That's a horrible thing to say to a girl!"

   I realized my mistake, and that debonair had fled the premises once
again.  It's probably good that it did, because my next response was based
on common sense.

   "Look Marge, you're a beautiful girl, and I like you a lot.  I'm glad
about it every time you come over.  I didn't pay that much attention to you
when we were younger, but you've really grown up and I really like being
around you."

   Who needs suave or debonair when actual compliments are better anyway?
And I found suddenly that they were true too.  I DID like being around her.
She was smart and she really was gorgeous, with that short blond hair that
framed her pixie face and those lovely blue eyes that I'd never actually
noticed before.  And her breasts were ...  well they were impressive.  Even
covered up they were impressive.  I remembered why she'd come there and my
cock began to do things in my shorts.

   She chose that moment to sit tentatively on the edge of the bed.  She
had to crane her neck to look at me, but at least she couldn't see the
evidence of the arousal she caused.  I didn't think she was quite ready for
that yet.

   "I don't know about this." she said, to no one in particular.

   "Look Marge," I said.  "You don't have to do everything Claire tells you
to do."

   Oops, a little slip there.  I was afraid she'd catch it and want to know
how I knew Claire was telling her to do this.  But she didn't.  She had too
many other things on her mind.  I had learned that telling a girl she
didn't have to do anything gave her the confidence to try something she
knew she probably shouldn't try, but wanted to anyway.  I didn't know if
that would work with Marge, but I suddenly hoped so.  Up close I could see
that Barbie's face had a nipple under it, and that nipple was sticking out,
making Barbie's face stick out too.  That pretty well finished the job of
making Mr.  Happy all ready to ...  be happy.

   "Really?" she replied.  This poor girl was brainwashed.  Claire's
approval was pretty important to her.

   "Really." I said.  I'd love to fool around a little.  You're gorgeous
and I like you, but you don't have to do anything at all if you don't want
to."

   "But what will I tell them when I go back?" she whined.

   "You don't have to tell them anything." I said.  "Or you can tell them
we did whatever you want to tell them we did."

   I'm a guy.  Things are simple like that.  We lie.  I figured girls did
too, you know?

   "That won't work" she said miserably.  "They'll know.  Why did I ever
say I wanted to do this with you?"

   "You said that?" I asked.  "Really?  I thought Claire just bullied you
into it." Another slip of the tongue.  But again she missed it.

   She looked at me out of the side of her eye, through long, beautiful
lashes.  "Well, you are cute." she said.  Some mystical sense told me she
thought I was going to make fun of her.  Well, maybe it wasn't all that
mystical.  After all, every time I'd had anything to do with her in the
past I'd made fun of her.  She did it to me too.  That was who we were. 
Back then.

   But this was now, and so I reached out and touched her cheek with one
finger.  "Thanks." I said.

   She relaxed and I knew I'd scored another point.  "So what do we do
now?" she asked.

   I decided to see just how cute I really was.  "Well, why don't you lie
down here beside me and kiss me.  Then you could talk about the kiss and
maybe they'd forget about everything else."

   "Fat chance!" she said, but she turned to climb over me.  If I'd have
been further back she could have just laid down, but Suave was off taking a
leak or something and wasn't in the room.

   So, naturally, I rolled to my back.

   And naturally my rock hard boner made a tent in my shorts that a blind
person couldn't miss.

   "Ooooo" she said in a voice that was all breathy.  She had one hand on
my hip, getting ready to climb over me, but she stopped and stared.  I
realized that Barbie's PJs could have used another button, but I was
suddenly very glad they didn't because I got a shot of what made Marge ...
Large Marge.  Mr.  Happy gave a little jump for joy and it looked like I
had a squirrel in my pants.

   "OOOooooo" she sighed again.

   She looked up at me and debonair made one more appearance as I suavely
said "You're a stone fox, Margie ...  what did you expect?"

   Well, apparently when a girl sees that a guy she doesn't actually hate
has a boner for her, it pushes one of those hormone buttons that girls have
scattered around their bodies.  Suddenly she was a lot less anxious and a
lot more interested in that kiss I had suggested.  She climbed on over and
flopped down beside me.  I rolled toward her and slid my arm under hers,
letting it lie across her waist.  Her eyes were big, and she was staring at
me with a look that would make any guy feel like he was king of the world.
Her lips were slightly open because she was breathing long slow breaths
that wouldn't fit through her nostrils.  Her lips looked pink and plump and
warm and soft and I kissed them.

   They WERE warm and soft.

   I had a lot of experience with this part.  I was a good kisser and I
knew it.  I knew how to French kiss, and I knew how to do little nibble
kisses, and how to kiss the corner of a girl's mouth and her neck and all
that stuff.  And it was a lot of fun too.  I knew right away that Marge,
the best looking girl in the whole posse, hadn't had too much experience
with kissing.  It wasn't that she wasn't any good.  She took to it like a
duck takes to water.  But she enjoyed it SO much that I knew it was new to
her.  So we necked for like what seemed forever and I had a good time.  She
did too.  She snuggled up against me and the fact that my nasty old boner
was poking right into her PJ clad muffy didn't seem to bother her one
little bit.  I wasn't doing anything with my hands, and maybe that made her
feel more secure.

   At some point we took a break to breathe.  Both of us needed it.  She
was panting like she'd run up three flights of stairs.  I was in a little
better shape, having learned how to snatch the odd breath as the position
of my lips changed.  I already had ample evidence that I was cute enough to
swap serious spit with.  I decided to try for more.

   "You could tell the girls about those kisses ...  and how I kissed your
breasts ...  if you want."

   I don't know if debonair was back in the room or not, but after her eyes
said "Wow, I'm startled!", they got ...  I don't know ...  deep maybe? 
It's hard to describe, but they looked big enough and blue enough to swim
in somehow.

   "OK." she said.

   But she didn't do anything.

   So it was up to me to suavely and debonairly get those luscious orbs
naked.  I only had one hand, because the other was kind of under me.  I
tried, but it didn't work.  So she rolled to her back and that let me get
up a little and bring both hands to bear.  She had that look in her eye
again, that deep look, so I felt like everything was going well.  Something
told me not to hurry, and I unbuttoned each button and then went to the
next one without spreading the material apart.  Then they were all done.  I
reached out and very slowly pulled the edges apart so that the valley
between her breasts was bare.  Then something told me to kiss that valley.
I think debonair had finally decided he wasn't ashamed of me any more. 
After I kissed that I kissed her lips again, and then leaned back up to
uncover nirvana.

   Oh man they were beautiful.  They were round and full and had the most
luscious pink tips.  Her areolas were tiny, and her nipples weren't large
either, more like large peas.  But they were hard as a rock.

   Debonair cringed as I said "OK, I'm going to kiss them now."

   Marge said "OK".  Had I known enough, I'd have thanked my lucky stars
that she didn't roll off that bed and walk out at what had to look like an
almost academic approach to kissing her breasts.

   And then I didn't kiss them.  Not really.  I went straight for her left
nipple and sucked that baby into my mouth.

   It was like I'd stuck her with a pin or something.  She gave a strangled
"MPFFT" sort of sound and her chest strained up off the bed.  Just so's I
could say I'd gotten them both I switched nipples and sucked that one too.
That got me an "Ohhhhhhhh", which sounded lots better.

   Now all you guys out there, and you girls too who play softball, know
that you don't just stop at second base.  The whole point of the game is to
get to home plate.  So after kissing and nipple sucking, it's just normal
to want to steal to pussy ...  so to speak.  But I was chicken.  Things
were going so well, and I was having a hell of a good time, and I didn't
want any umpires yelling that I was out, or that the game was called on
account of fear or whatever.  So I ended up going back to her lips and then
used my hands on her breasts and nipples, pinching them and moving those
big jugs around on her chest.  And I must have pushed another of those
hormone buttons somewhere, because her kisses got hotter and hotter and all
of a sudden her hand was on mine and it was PUSHING my hand toward where I
wanted to go in the worst way.

   Believe it or not, I was going too slow!

   Marge told me later that after I sucked her nipples she decided right
then and there that her virginity was toast.  She was ready.  But I didn't
know it.

   I found out when my hand slid under the elastic band of her pajama
bottoms and through the fluffiest and softest pussy hair I had ever felt
and into a mess of wet that ANY guy would know meant this girl was turned
ON!

   I speeded things up then.  I was getting pretty heated up myself.  Wet
pussy will do that to a guy.  I slid a finger into Margie's virgin pussy
and probed deep.  She made that strangled sound again, this time in my
mouth because I was kissing her as I did it.  I sawed my finger in and out,
trying to find and rub her clitty, which I knew had to be there.  I must
have gotten it a few times because she pushed at my chest.

   I thought I had gone too far, but Marge shimmied out of her PJs and was
suddenly achingly naked.

   "I want to try it." she panted.

   "Are you sure?" I asked.  This was serious stuff now.

   "Yes ...  please." she said.  "I want to be able to tell them about all
of it."

   My shorts joined Barbie, where they had a ringside seat on Marge's
defloration, which actually went very well, in my opinion.  I got up over
her and almost shot off just looking at her lying there, all blond and big
-titted and her legs were open for me and I already knew how wet and slick
she was.  And when I nudged the tip of my prick between those two plump
pink pussy lips of hers and she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed up
with her heels, I knew she really did want to try it.

   Marge was a natural.  She was as hot as asphalt on a July day and she'd
rubbed herself almost raw lots of times, though of course I didn't know
that then.  She'd destroyed her hymen long ago and my adolescent prick fit
her like a glove.  If anything she was bigger than me.  I slid into her
like ice cream slides down your throat.  And Marge loved to fuck from the
git-go.  As soon as I was all the way in her she bucked and thrashed and
moaned and cried and told me she loved me and all kinds of stuff.

   I later found out that she was responsible for three of the other girls
deciding to actually let me pop their cherries.

   Get this.  They were all out in the hall listening.  They'd actually
come to see what was taking so long and had been about to knock on the door
when she let out a moan they heard clear out in the hallway.  I guess girls
can tell when a moan is a good moan instead of a bad one, because they all
froze and listened to Marge have her very first orgasm caused one hundred
percent by my rock hard prick.

   And my good looks, of course.

   It wouldn't be her last.  Not by a long shot.  But more on that later.
Right now my balls are all full and want to cum, just like they did that
night.

   I did to Marge what you could only call pounding.  I slammed into her
again and again, withdrawing only enough to slam forward one more time. 
And she loved that rough treatment.  After Margie crashed through an orgasm
or three I finally decided I'd done my duty.  I should have pulled out of
her, but I didn't want to.  Instead, I slammed in one last time and held it
deep while Mr.  Happy upchucked sperm right into her teenage womb.  Cumming
in Claire had been amazing.  This was too, but it was different.  It was
Large Marge, and while my prick was spitting and seeding her but good, I
was lying on those fabulous soft spongy Barbie tits.  I wanted to cum like
a fire hydrant that somebody lost the wrench to turn off.

   Of course it didn't work that way.  I collapsed on top of Marge and she
grabbed my face and was babbling her thank-you's and kissing me and I'm
absolutely sure that if I'd have asked her to marry me at that second she'd
have screamed "YES!" at the top of her lungs.

   Thankfully, I didn't.  But the girls in the hall heard all her thank
you's and that sealed the deal.  We lay there for a few minutes longer and
suddenly she got all perky.

   "I have to go!" she said, looking at her wrist, which was bare.  "I have
to get back to Claire's room.  What if your parents catch us?"

   Now was a fine time to ask that question.

   But I rolled off of her and had just the teeniest glimpse of red looking
pussy lips covered with thick white spunk before she closed her legs, sat
up and covered herself with Barbie again.  I may have moaned again as the
top covered up Nirvana and, after one quick kiss on the lips and a last
"Thank you Bobby ...  I mean it." she was gone.

   Mr.  Happy was ecstatic.  But I was too tired to even go listen to what
she said through the wall.  Even if Marge was the only one who ever let me
touch her, it had been worth it.  And, based on her attitude when she left,
I had a pretty good idea that I'd get to see ...  and suck ...  those
wonderful tits again too.

   I thought about that as I drifted off to sleep.

   CHAPTER FOUR

   The next morning was a day to sleep in, it being Saturday, but of course
that didn't happen with Claire and the posse in the house.  They were
particularly charged up that morning because two of their number were no
longer virgins and one of those had forfeited that virginity within range
of the hearing of the rest, only the night before.  I didn't know they had
actually been in the hallway, listening to Large Marge moan her way through
a couple of orgasms while her virgin pussy got all sloppy with my sperm.

   But, I was sure they all knew what had happened.

   Some of you might be thinking that I'd have wanted to be up and
strutting around, like a rooster in the barnyard, all proud of what I'd
done.  But you have to remember that, up until this time, the relationship
between the posse and me had been adversarial in nature.  I picked on them
...  and they tried to make my life miserable in return.  And, Marge hadn't
wanted to stay around and cuddle, so it wasn't like I had found love or
anything.  Even though they, including Claire, were all quite sure I had
stuffed many a pussy full of my hard prick, I still wasn't at all used to
the idea that I had actually had sex with a girl.  Two, if you count my
sister, and that was pretty weird to think about too.  So I tried to stay
in bed, hoping they'd all leave and go somewhere.

   It was not to be.

   Claire barged into my room - that was getting to be an annoying routine,
it seemed - and I could hear the girls out in the hallway tittering, though
at least they didn't follow her in.

   "GET UP LAZY BONES!" Claire shouted gleefully.  I told myself that was a
good sign.  She was happy, and that meant I had made Marge, and by
extension, the rest of the posse, happy too.  That was confirmed when
Claire leaned over and whispered in my blanket-covered ear.

   "You did good last night."

   Her incorrect English notwithstanding, I felt a little better, but was
still averse to facing a bunch of girls who knew what "good" I had done. 
But you can't deflect a fifteen year old girl by saying "I can't possibly
face all those girls." It just isn't done.  Not if you're a guy.  I did
manage to get her to leave by promising I'd get up and appear at breakfast.


   I tried to take as long as I could to get a shower and get dressed,
hoping that they'd all be done eating by the time I got there, but they
dawdled with their food, probably thinking I was trying to build up the
suspense for a triumphal entry.  I was suddenly the star attraction in the
Hopkins household.  I didn't realize how much until I went into the
kitchen.

   They were all still in their pajamas and, before I arrived, were all
chattering like Magpies.  That stopped as soon as I walked in the room.  My
mother, working at the stove, even turned around to see why everybody had
suddenly gone silent.  She saw me and raised an eyebrow, but she was used
to the girls treating me like a pariah, and just turned back around to tend
the eggs.

   "Good morning Bobby" said Marge.  There was a burst of giggles and Mom
turned BACK around.  This kind of behavior did not fit into her
expectations.

   I managed a whole one-word sentence.  "Hi."

   The girls scooted around to make room for me at the table.  There was no
chair, so I'd have to stand, but they made room.  My mother's eyebrow rose
again.  She wasn't a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination, but
she didn't have enough information to arrive at any unhappy conclusions, so
eventually she shrugged and turned back to the eggs, which were really well
done by then.

   The silence went on and it might have gotten really uncomfortable if my
father hadn't walked in.  He looked around and said "I love Saturdays! 
Especially when my house is filled with beautiful women." He loved to
compliment the posse and they loved him for it.

   That got giggles and conversation going again and two of the girls
shared one chair so he could sit down.  I might be a sex machine but I
didn't rate my own chair.  Other than a lot of interesting looks from all
those girls, including my sister, breakfast concluded without much further
ado.

   But those interesting looks were powerful.  You know how women complain
all the time about how men look at them?  They complain that men undress
them with their eyes and all that stuff.  Right?

   Well I can tell you I know what that feels like.  All of those girls
were looking at me like I was one of those modern paintings you see where
you can't figure out what it's actually a picture of.  And somebody comes
along and says "Isn't it wonderful?" And, of course, you don't want to
sound like an idiot so you come up with some lame response like "Yes ... 
so expressive." But you still don't understand it, and it's particularly
upsetting when it appears someone else does!

   Anyway, the girls were looking at me like that, and Large Marge was the
one who had said "Isn't it wonderful?"

   A week ago, if I'd have looked at the girls like that, Claire would have
been complaining to our mother.  Girls don't like to be looked at like
that.

   But what I can't understand is why women complain about that.  I mean
they fix themselves all up with makeup and slinky clothes and a nice hairdo
and all that, and they look all luscious and edible, like they were a piece
of pie.  Come to think of it, maybe that's where the term "Cheesecake" came
from.

   Anyway, I sort of liked it, because it was obvious none of them were
actually repelled or anything.  Knobby Robby looked pretty disgusted, but
it didn't seem to have anything to do with me exactly.  I mean when she
looked at me she didn't frown, or grimace or anything.  But, there WAS
something different in her eyes when she looked at me.  She ate like she
was miffed about something, though.  I decided not to worry about it and
just enjoyed being the center of attention.  Even though none of them were
saying anything to me.

   I didn't have anything to do that morning, and planned on another
session with Mr.  Heinlein's book, but cartoons were first.  I always
watched the Roadrunner show on Saturday mornings.  I kept hoping Wiley
Coyote would catch that damn bird.  I knew he never would, but it was fun
to watch him try.  Now, later in life, I suspect that teenage boys who
didn't have access to ready pussy, transposed Wiley's efforts on top of
their own efforts to catch some pussy some day.  We never thought we
actually would back then - get some pussy I mean - but there was always
hope, and a lot of effort went into trying to find the "Acme" device that,
when you pushed the right button, would catch that giggling girl and lay
her out naked for you to ravage.

   Sorry.  Again, I digress.  That's one of the things that happens to
people when too much, that's too momentous, happens suddenly in life.  It
gets you to thinking.

   Anyway, that's why I was sitting on the couch in the living room when
the posse stampeded out the front door.  I don't know where they were
going, but they were excited to get there.

   And Marge stopped by the couch on her way out and kissed me on the lips.
They were all watching her do it, and there was a chorus of "Oooooo"s and
shrieks and giggles that left me beet red.

   It didn't affect Marge at all.  She just breathed in my face and smiled
and said "Thank you Bobby."

   How do girls know how to do that?  Produce instant boners, I mean.  I
was rock hard before the front door slammed and they left me alone.  That
was it for cartoons.  I had to retreat to my room and whack off. 
Remembering Marge's smell, and the feel of those big soft tits against my
chest had me spurting in record time.

   I was four more chapters into "Stranger In A Strange Land" when my
mother stuck her head in my door and told me she and Dad were going garage
saleing.  Two chapters later I heard them come back.  Except it wasn't
'them' ...  it was just Claire.  She stuck her head in the door too.

   "Where's Mom and Dad?" she asked.

   "Garage sales" I muttered.

   "Goody!" she yipped.  She came in the room.

   She ran across the room and catapulted herself on top of me.  I barely
got the book out of the way.  I wasn't sure what was going on until she
started kissing me.  Her lips felt really warm for some reason.

   "I'm sooo horny." she breathed into my mouth.  "Margie told us what
happened and I've been horny ever since!"

   I don't know why I thought Claire would only do me once.  I guess it was
the taboo thing, maybe, and she had obviously been aware of the risks.  She
made it clear in short order, though, that she was going to do it twice ...
at least.  Her fingers attacked my shirt like she'd practiced for hours,
and my belt and zipper too.  Then her clothes were flying all over the
place until we were both naked.  She straddled me and put her hands on my
wrists, like she wanted to be in control, but all she did was kiss me lots
of times until I was straining up against her.  I could feel her wetness on
my stomach as she rubbed her slick pussy against it.

   Then she lowered one of her nipples to my mouth.  "Do what you did to
Marge." she panted.  I realized that, during our first frantic coupling, I
hadn't paid any attention to her breasts, really.  When I sucked on her
nipple she shuddered and moaned.  "Ohhh she was right ...  that feels
marvelous." she complimented me.  Well it felt pretty good to me too, so I
went back and forth until both of her nipples were sticking out a lot, all
sharp and pointy.

   Just as suddenly as she'd attacked me in the first place she was on her
back, pulling me over on top of her and her hand found my hardness and
pulled.  We both groaned out loud as I slid into that heat.  She was so
tight - lot's tighter than Marge, who suddenly had another reason to have
her nickname.  Once I got my prick good and slick in Claire's weepy pussy,
I began fucking her fast and hard.

   She let me do that for a while, but then pushed at my chest and said
"Slow down a little." We both found that a little slower tempo caused me to
press in harder and rub against her more, and that was better.  She gave me
a running commentary on how close her orgasm was, right up until she
squealed and said "YES!"

   They say that having a mutual orgasm when making love is actually quite
difficult ...  that people reach their pinnacle at different times
naturally, depending on what they're thinking about, and the physical
stimulation that's going on and all that.  Some people even say what you
had for your last meal before you make love affects when you get your
cookies.  I don't know about all that.  When Claire yelled "YES!" and I
knew that it was my very own hard cock that had produced that " YES!" I
spewed like a water balloon that has landed on a cactus.  My cum splattered
all over the inside of my sister's pussy and I loved every spurt.  Knowing
that there was nothing preventing a pregnancy didn't bother me even a
little bit.  Not then.  I'd feel bad about it later, but it was exciting
then.  You know what I mean?

   Like I said earlier, sex energized Claire ...  made her hyper usually.
But, once in a while, Claire liked to kiss and cuddle after sex.  That day
was a kiss and cuddle day.  And to the surprise of two teenagers, we found
that a teenage cock can get hard again really fast.  I really soaked her
that day.

   It was after our second go-round that she asked me the question.

   "So who do you want to do next?"

   "What?" I had enough brains present to act confused.

   "The posse!  Who do you want to make love to next?"

   "I'm making love to the whole posse?" I asked, trying to put incredulity
into my voice.  I was proud of myself for remembering to say 'make love'.

   "Of course.  They're all curious.  We can trust you not to tell
everybody about it.  You're elected.  Especially after the way Marge talked
about what you did last night."

   "She told you what we did?" I was still trying to play the role of
un-clued-in brother.

   "She SHOWED us what you did." she said.

   "What in the world are you talking about?" I asked.  I really didn't
know what she was talking about.

   "She took off her bottoms when she got back.  She SHOWED us all your
stuff leaking out of her."

   "You guys LOOKED AT HER PUSSY?" I gasped.

   "Of course." she said, like everybody knew teenaged girls who'd just had
sex showed their sperm-filled pussies to all their friends.  "How else
would we have known you actually did it?"

   "I didn't know proof was required." I said dully.

   Man, I was sure glad I wasn't a girl.  To have to prove you did
something like that to all your friends?  That would be just too weird.

   "Of course proof is required!" said Claire, like I was stupid.  "The
rest of the girls wouldn't agree to do it with you unless they all know
that everybody ELSE did it with you too." She acted like that actually made
sense or something.

   Then I got this mental image of Marge, sitting on the edge of the bed,
her PJ bottoms on the floor, her legs spread, with those rosy pussy lips
gaping open and all spermy, while a bunch of girls peered between her legs
to see the ...  proof.

   And then Claire and I found out that some teenaged boys can go THREE
times within a very short time if they're properly motivated.

   After that one we were both lying there sweaty and out of breath.  I
looked at the ceiling and said "Suzy."

   I know there are some women reading this who cringed just then.  I mean
you're lying with your lover, who you just pumped full of spunk, and you
say another woman's name.  You're thinking that's crude and a bad idea,
right?  But with the posse it was all for one and one for all, like the
musketeers, and it didn't make Claire jealous at all.  She did ask why,
though.

   "I know my nickname for her hurts her feelings." I answered.  "Loosey
Suzy" was a reference to the shirts she wore, but "Loose" in that day and
age had another context that women didn't appreciate being applied to them.
And even though I didn't mean it that way, other people hearing me call her
that wouldn't know that.  She'd yelled at me a lot of times about that and
I knew it bothered her.

   And, naturally, since it bothered her, I'd called her that every chance
I'd gotten.

   But this new kind of relationship with the posse couldn't be built on
that kind of thing.  So I somehow felt like I 'owed' it to Suzy to show her
that I thought she was cute as could be.  With typical teenage denseness it
didn't even occur to me that, after I 'showed' her how I felt about her,
she'd be a lot closer to being a "loose woman" than when I'd started.  It
was a philosophical conundrum that I didn't even recognize was out there,
but which should have been obvious.  You'll understand that in a little
bit.

   Claire agreed that I was a turd for calling Suzy what I called her, but
she didn't get in my face about it.  How could she, lying there naked next
to me with my cum soaking into her womb?  Anyhow then Claire came up with
this really stupid plan for me to sneak over to Monique's house that night,
where the posse was convening for their second sleepover of the week.  I
told her I thought that was stupid, because Monique's parents wouldn't
think it was funny at all if they caught me sneaking into their house.  She
said it didn't matter because they were going to the Opera and wouldn't be
there anyway, but that nobody else needed to see me going in.

   Which is why I found myself, on a Saturday night, standing outside
Monique's bedroom window at eight in the evening when my parents thought I
was out dragging the strip with my buddies.  I'd parked the car behind
their house in the alley where I hoped nobody would see it and wonder why
my father's car was parked in the alley behind the Haskins house.

   The posse was assembled.  It was autumn, but the weather was nice so it
wasn't all that cool, even though it was getting pretty dark.  I tapped on
the window.

   There were noises inside like they thought a burglar had just arrived
and was going to kill them all.  Claire came to the window.

   "Good, you're here." she said, like she thought I wouldn't come or
something.

   Monique appeared beside her.  "It's my house!" she stated, like she was
pissed off at me.  I later found out that she was upset because Suzy was
going to get her turn at Monique's house.  Monique thought it should be HER
turn, since it was HER house.  Of course I didn't know that then, so I
didn't know how to respond.

   "Yes, it is." I said.

   She turned to my sister and said "See?  Even HE knows it!"

   I also didn't know that Claire had approached things like it was all HER
idea that Suzy was next.  She didn't give me any credit ...  or blame, come
to think of it ...  for choosing Suzy over anybody else.  She had just
announced that Suzy would lose her virginity that night.  It had caused a
sensation because all the girls thought, for some reason, that virginities
would only be lost at Claire's house.  So the remaining virgins had been
all relaxed and under the assumption that their hymens were secure until
the next sleepover at Claire's.  Then, when Claire made her announcement
all unexpected like, and Monique found out it wasn't going to be her, she
got jealous!

   Who understands how girls think?

   Anyway, I didn't know all that then, so I was just standing in the
Haskins' back yard wondering if the neighbors had seen me yet and called
the Police about the peeping Tom at 3314 Maple Street, saying things like
"and could you hurry please, there are a bunch of poor defenseless girls
there!"

   But no S.W.A.T.  team showed up and Monique told me to go to the back
door, where I was ushered in like an escaped convict they were trying to
hide.  I got "shhh"ed too, even though the only people in the house were
the girls.  Then I was suddenly standing in Monique's bedroom, in the midst
of six girls and being 'examined' again.  Well, five girls, anyway. 
Roberta wasn't looking at me.  She was looking everywhere else instead.

   Suzy whined.  "Are you SURE it has to be me next?"

   Talk about hitting a guy where it hurts.  Suzy was obviously not all
that thrilled about getting more acquainted with me than she already was. I
was stung.

   "It doesn't have to be anybody's turn." I groused.  "I'm doing you all a
favor, after all."

   Bad move.

   Now I was standing in the middle of six HOSTILE girls.  Robby WAS
looking at me now, and I knew that look from pains I still remembered from
the past.

   "I didn't mean it like that." I mumbled.

   Claire took charge.  "Casey Kasem's Top 40 is on.  Let's go listen to
it." she said, with authority.  She had to add "Not you." to Suzy as Suzy
tried to follow them out the door.

   Monique tried again.  "Do they have to do it in MY bed?"

   Claire pushed her toward the door.  "We'll change the sheets when
they're done."

   And, just like that, I was alone with Loosey Suzy in Monique's extremely
pink bedroom.

   Suzy was a fairly normal looking girl.  She had brown hair, and brown
eyes.  Her hair hung straight on the sides of her face and almost touched
her shoulders.  I'd seen her wear it in a pony tail, but usually it was
just hanging there, like it was tonight.  She had on jeans, which, for the
first time, I noticed were hugging nice round hips.  She also had on her
obligatory loose sweat shirt, which made her look flat -chested.  She
didn't have a lot on top.  She looked like a thousand other girls until she
smiled.  She had a wide mouth and her teeth were blindingly white, and her
smile made you want to smile with her.  She was just standing there,
staring at me.

   "I'm not going to do this." she said quite firmly.  The gauntlet had
been thrown down.

   "OK" I said, like I didn't care.  At that point I actually didn't really
care that much.  This was weird for me too.  "So what do you want to do
instead?"

   I don't think she was prepared for me to be so agreeable.  She shifted
from one foot to the other.  "Why don't you just leave?" she asked.

   "I could do that." I said.  "But you'll get ragged on by the girls."

   "I don't care what they think." she said.  She didn't sound very
convincing.

   "OK" I said amiably.  "No biggie." I turned and started for the door.

   "Wait!" she said.  I turned around.  "Was that really ...  your stuff?
On Marge?  Last night?"

   Now that seemed like a strange thing to ask.

   "Yes." I said.  What else could I say?

   "Oh." she said.

   I didn't know what that meant either.

   Then she asked "Would you really just leave if I told you to?"

   "Yeah." I answered.  What did she think I'd do?  "If that's what you
wanted." I added.

   "I thought you didn't care what I thought about anything." she said.  I
got it then.  She was trying to start a fight.  She didn't want to lose her
virginity.  Not with me anyway.

   I decided that, if nothing else, I'd do what I originally intended to
do, and that was be nice to her.  You know, to make up for all those times
I'd teased her.

   "Look," I said.  "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, calling you Loosey
Suzy.  It's just a nickname, OK?  It doesn't mean anything.  It doesn't
have anything to do with your boobs, and it doesn't mean I think you're ...
easy or something."

   If I expected gratitude on her part I was in error.  "What's wrong with
my boobs?" she said, her voice rising a little.

   "Nothing's wrong with your boobs." I said.  "I've never even seen them.
Why would I think there's something wrong with them?"

   "They're so small." she said.  "I know you think they're small." Her jaw
was sticking out.  She was still trying to start a fight.

   "Even if I thought they were small, that's not bad.  They're all
different sizes, right?  Some are small, some are big.  What's the
difference?  And who cares what I think anyway?" I didn't want a fight.

   "Boys don't like girls with small boobs." she insisted.

   "You don't know much about boys." I said.  "I like all different kinds
of boobs."

   "Marge said you liked her boobs." said Suzy.  "She said you slobbered
all over them."

   Somehow I didn't think "slobbered" was the word Marge had used.  She had
been way too happy when my mouth was on them.

   "Hers were fine." I said.  "But I bet yours are fine too." It wasn't
quite suave, or debonair, or even clever, but I was fighting for my life
here.

   "You're just saying that because you want to get in my pants." she said.
"If I let you, then I really WILL be loose!  And for what?  You don't
REALLY like me."

   What was all this "Do you like me" stuff?  It occurred to me that being
'liked' was somehow an important part of all this sex stuff for girls.

   The fact was that what she'd said wasn't true.  I DID like Suzy.  I mean
she was really good at Math and she always had the coolest science
projects. I'd just never spent much time getting to know her, you know?  So
how do you convince someone you like them when the only thing they know is
that you tease them all the time?

   I walked over to her and took her face in my hands and I kissed her.  I
made it a tender kiss.  I didn't push real hard or try to stick my tongue
in her mouth or anything like that.  I just kissed her and tried to enjoy
it.  It wasn't hard.  She had nice lips, even if all she did was stand
there while I did it.

   "If I didn't like you, could I kiss you like that?" I asked, when it was
over.  Her hands were hanging at her sides and she hadn't moved at all
while I kissed her.  Her cheeks were pink, though, and her eyes were wide.

   "Nobody's ever kissed me before." she said.

   "Was it all that bad?" I asked.

   She thought about it.  "No." then "Why do you tease me so much?"

   "I don't know.  I tease all the girls, I guess." I said.  She was still
standing close to me.  "I probably shouldn't tease so much ...  huh?" I
asked.

   "No, you shouldn't." she agreed.  "Kiss me again."

   I wasn't ready for that.  I mean she really surprised me.  But I was
willing, and this time I put my arms around her.  I pressed a little harder
too, moving my lips around on hers and suddenly I felt her hands on my
waist.  They weren't doing anything ...  they were just resting there, but
at least they weren't hanging by her sides.  I was paying so much attention
to her lips that I didn't pay any attention to the feel of her body against
mine.  That changed when I broke that kiss.  I held on to her and then I
felt her hard body pressing into me.  She wasn't skinny, exactly, she was
just mostly muscle.  She felt good against me.  She licked her lips.

   "There are other ways to kiss too." I said.

   "I know that." she said.  She didn't pull away.

   "So ...  do you maybe want to try that?" I asked.

   "Do you really stop whenever a girl says to stop?" she asked.

   "Absolutely." I said, my voice firm.

   "Well, maybe some kissing wouldn't be so bad." she said.

   Man, oh man, did she embrace 'some kissing'.  Once she opened her lips
and I touched just her teeth with my tongue, her hands moved from my hips
to my back and then I found out those slim muscles of hers had some
strength in them.  She LIKED to kiss.  So I gave her everything I had in
the kiss department.  Within two minutes, I bet, I had gone through all the
mouth kisses I knew.  During stops to breathe I nibbled her ear and she
craned her neck, so I kissed that too.  My hands slid around on her back
and I realized she wasn't wearing a bra under that sweatshirt.  I felt my
dick start to harden up.  She might not have been kissed before, but she
was a quick learner, I'll tell you that.

   "Stop!" she said.

   I pulled back, still holding her, and looked at her.  She was testing
me. I kept looking at her.

   "Is that how you kissed Marge last night?" she asked.  She was breathing
deep.

   "I guess so." I said.  "It's different with every girl."

   "Oh." she seemed surprised.  "What else did you do with Marge?  Other
than ...  you know." she amended her question.  "I don't want to do that."
she reiterated.

   I began to understand that Suzy wanted to do ...  something ...  but
didn't want to volunteer to do ...  anything.  She wanted to be convinced,
or something like that, to do these new things.  I've met women since then
who were like that.  They felt better about themselves morally if they
didn't volunteer, but were ...  convinced instead.  I didn't quite grasp
that concept back then, with Suzy, but some instinct told me to keep going
until she said "stop" again.  Maybe it was her insistence that she didn't
want to do "that", which by default ...  left everything else open.  And I
knew that she'd seen the evidence of what Marge and I did, and that Marge
had at least told them that I sucked her nipples.

   "I touched her in some places." I said.  That seemed pretty innocuous
and not too threatening.

   "Like where?" asked Suzy.

   I slid my hands down below the hem of her sweatshirt and then up, onto
her naked back.  "I did this." I said, sliding my hands around on her
smooth, tight skin.  Then I kissed her again, while I rubbed her back some
more.  My fingers went down and slipped under the waistband of her jeans,
touching her panties.  She stiffened, and I pulled them right back out and
caressed her back some more.  When I broke that kiss I said.  "And I
touched her breasts too."

   There it was.  It was an unspoken request to touch Suzy's breasts, which
she thought were too small, and which she was ashamed of and hid under
those thick loose shirts.

   "I'm scared." she said.

   I kissed her a couple of short soft kisses.  "I won't hurt you Suzy." I
said.

   "I know THAT." she said.  "I'm scared you'll think my boobs are ugly.

   "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" I suggested.

   "If you laugh at me I'll hate you forever." she said.  She meant it too,
even if she was still holding on to me.

   "I can't imagine laughing at your breasts." I said softly.

   She did push me away then.  She turned her back to me and in a
convulsive, quick movement pulled her shirt up and over her head.  It left
her hair all mussed, and that looked really good against her bare back. 
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor.  She
didn't want to turn around.

   I went up to her and pushed the hair off her neck and kissed it with
some more little soft kisses.  She rolled her head sideways to give me more
room and I slid my hands around her waist to her stomach.  Her elbows came
back and I realized her hands were covering her breasts now.  I slid my
hands slowly up until they bumped into hers.  I applied just enough
pressure to let her know that I wanted her to move her hands.

   "Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned.  She still sounded scared.

   "I know they're beautiful." I whispered into her neck.

   She let me push her hands off her breasts and I covered her slim mams
with my own hands as I kept kissing her neck.  I felt her nipples
instantly. They were huge.  Those nipples were perched on mere swells of
breast flesh.  I was quite sure that some twelve year olds had more there
than she did, but her nipples were truly impressive.  They were thick and
already stuck out as far as Claire's had after I'd sucked on them for
fifteen minutes.  I rubbed my hands across those nipples gently and she
leaned back into me.

   She still didn't want to turn around.  I got this idea and got to my
knees, so my face was level with the small of her back.  I kissed her there
too, and then, grasping her hips, began to turn her around.  Her stomach
came into view and I kissed all around her belly button, but didn't look up
at her breasts.  Her hands were covering them again.  I stuck my tongue in
her navel and then started kissing my way up until I was kissing the flat
skin between her hands.

   "Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned again.  Now she sounded only uncertain, but not
afraid.

   I kissed over to her left hand and made it clear I wanted her to move
it. Ever so slowly she dragged it away from my lips and I kissed each
centimeter of skin she uncovered.  Then that nipple was suddenly free and
her hand dropped.  I kissed all around it first, and then closed my lips
over it.  It was as big as her little finger, and I was able to get it all
the way inside my teeth as I sucked.

   "Ohhh Bobby!" she sighed a third time.  This time there wasn't any fear
in her voice at all.

   I felt her other hand fall on my shoulder and immediately kissed my way
across to the other nipple.  There wasn't anything to squeeze or hold with
my hands, so I put them on her rock hard butt cheeks and just worked those
nipples for a while.  She moaned and her hands went behind my head and
pulled and I knew she was having a good time.  She might not have much
there, but what she had was very sensitive.

   Eventually I worked my way back up to her mouth, unbuttoning my shirt at
the same time so that when I kissed her lips I could press my chest against
those nipples.  She swayed, rubbing them against me and her hands went all
fluttery on my back.

   We broke to breathe again and I asked "You want me to stop now?"

   Her eyes got a glint in them that suggested I should shut up, and that
when she was ready to tell me to stop I wouldn't have any trouble
whatsoever in comprehending that.  All that with just a look!  I went back
to my plan.

   "I did some other things with Marge." I said.  "Other than ...  you
know." That wasn't technically true, at least not what I had in mind to do
to Suzy.  What I had in mind I had done to Claire, not Marge, but I wasn't
going to tell Suzy that.

   "What things?" she asked, her voice kind of dreamy.

   "I kissed her ...  other places." I said.

   Suzy wasn't stupid.  I'd already kissed her everywhere on her body that
wasn't covered up by her jeans.

   "Ohhh I don't know ..." she said.  The uncertainty was back in her
voice.

   "I think you'd like it." I suggested.  "I'll stay dressed if that would
make you feel better."

   That appealed to her.  Me dressed wasn't so scary.

   "Maybe just a little." she said.

   I took her to the bed and laid her down on it.  Her hands came back to
her breasts and I took them away.  "They're beautiful Suzy." I said.  She
blushed but I got my first of those brilliant smiles of hers.

   "Really?" she asked.  She wanted to hear that again.

   "They made me hard as a rock." I said.

   Her eyes darted to the front of my pants, where there was a lump plainly
visible.  I think it was the fact that it was still securely a prisoner in
my pants that made her able to look at it and not get nervous.

   My hands went to the front of her jeans.  I went very slowly, undoing
the button and then unzipping them.  That put a little pressure on her mons
and she wiggled.  Her eyes were really big again and she was breathing hard
again.  But when I pulled at the waistband she lifted her hips off the bed.
Her jeans were so tight that I couldn't get a grip on them, other than the
waistband, and they wouldn't go down past her hips that way.  She finally
helped.  When her panties slid down with the jeans, though, she scrabbled
for them, pulling them back up.  With my face right over those panties I
was able to smell her, and she was turned on.

   I started with the little kisses again, on her abdomen and stomach, and
slid my hands along her legs, which were tightly closed.  I let my lips
stray onto her panties and her hands fluttered again, like she couldn't
decide what to do with them.  When I pressed my lips as far down between
her thighs as I could get them with her legs closed, she moaned again.  I
crawled up on the bed and put my knees outside her calves as I continued
kissing the front of her panties.  I licked them too, until they were wet
with both her juices and my own saliva.

   I kissed my way back up her body, stopping at those nipples again and
lay down beside her to kiss her lips some more.  She rolled over to face me
and, while we traded tongues I played with her butt cheeks.  When I slid my
hand inside her panties she just wiggled more and kissed harder.  So,
afraid any minute she'd yell "STOP!" I began to work my hand around in
front.

   She kept her legs tightly closed, but she didn't say anything close to
"stop" and I was able to pet her a little bit, getting one finger between
the upper end of her pussy lips, where it was hot and slick with her
juices. I couldn't tell you how long it took, but at some point her legs
began to relax and she rolled onto her back.  Then, with her tongue stuck
firmly into my mouth, she spread her legs.

   I was able to get my middle finger into her pussy and I started
finger-fucking her with slow strokes.  Knowing where I'd seen Marge's
clitty, I explored and found Suzy's.  She jerked when I put my slippery
fingertip on it and started playing with it.  What was more interesting was
that she stopped kissing me and lay there, her mouth open, taking in
panting breaths, her eyes tightly closed, as I masturbated her, slipping
another finger in with my first one.  She was tight and she winced, but she
didn't open her eyes and she didn't yell "STOP!" I took that wince to mean
she still had her cherry, and took the other finger out, playing with her
clitty until she writhed on the bed.  She had liked having her nipples
sucked so much that I thought that might help, so I leaned over and took
the one nearest to me into my mouth.

   That did it.  She tensed up and her legs closed on my hand again and she
went "EEEEEEEEEE" in this whine that made my dick leak in my pants.  All I
could do now was wiggle my finger, because my hand was trapped, so I did
that until she said "OK, stop."

   It wasn't like a real demand.  It was more like she was done and needed
to take a break.  I pulled my hand out and she winced again, but then she
opened her eyes and rolled her head toward me as I lay my sticky hand on
her stomach.  She looked like she needed a kiss, so I did that and she
kissed me back, but it wasn't a hot kiss or anything.  It was just a nice
warm one - kind of quick, but she was breathing really hard.

   "You OK?" I asked when that was done.

   She nodded.  "I've done that ...  but ...  it never ...  felt that
good." She was panting.

   I'd gotten a lot farther with Suzy than I thought I would.  "I'm sorry
if I hurt you." I said, kissing her shoulder.

   "It wasn't ...  so bad." she was getting her breath back now.

   "I think I stretched your cherry a little bit." I said.

   "Was that what you wanted to do?" she asked.  "Is that what you did to
Marge?"

   I remembered I'd wanted to lick her pussy, but had gotten sort of
distracted away by getting her off.  "Well, no, but you looked like you
were having fun, so I didn't do the other."

   "What was the other?" she asked.

   I didn't want to scare her.  She had come a long way.  "I wanted to kiss
you ...  without your panties on."

   Her eyes looked like she had smoke in them or something, kind of half
closed.  "You'd do that?"

   "Sure" I said.  "It's fun." I took my hand from her stomach and sucked
in on the finger I'd brought her off with.  "You taste good."

   Her eyes got big, but then closed down again almost immediately.

   "That might be OK." she said, her voice soft.

   I didn't give her time to change her mind.  I got up and grabbed the
waistband of her panties and she lifted her hips as I slid them down.  She
had fluffy wispy hair.

   She covered her eyes with her hands.  "This is so embarrassing." she
moaned.

   "Don't be silly.  You're a beautiful, sexy girl." I said.  "I love
looking at you.  I'm hard as a rock right now."

   That got her hands off her eyes.  They were big again.  She had lifted
her head and I kept my eyes on hers as I put gentle pressure on her knees,
spreading them.  Then I kept eye contact as I lowered my face, getting
closer and closer.  She watched me until I stuck out my tongue and found
the split I had recently vacated with my finger.  Then her eyes closed
again and her head flopped back down on the bed.

   Suzy had a hot pussy, but she didn't want it to be hot.  She loved
having me play with her, but didn't want to be the one to initiate things.
I still think to this day it's because I called her Loosey Suzy.  She
didn't want me to think she was a slut.  But it was obvious that she wanted
to feel that tingle again, so I licked and sucked, but I wasn't doing it
right or something because even though she made perfectly wonderful sounds,
she didn't tense up and squeal like she had before.  Finally my tongue
actually got tired and started aching.  I lifted my face and her head came
back up.

   "My tongue hurts." I said.  What else could I say.  "I mean it's been
tense for a while."

   Her eyes were smoky again.  "Didn't you show Marge your ...  thing?" she
asked.

   "Well, yes ..." I started to remind her she didn't want to see it, but
then stopped.  Maybe she did.  "You want to see what you do to me?"

   She nodded fractionally.  I got off the bed.  My shirt was still on,
though unbuttoned, and I dropped it to the floor.  Then I pushed my pants
and underwear down together, kicking off my shoes.  I still had on socks,
but didn't want to take them off, even though I thought I'd look pretty
stupid dressed only in socks.  I just stood up.  Mr.  Happy was pointing
right at her and he really was stiff as a board.

   I moved closer.  She was staring at it like it was made of gold or
diamonds or something.  "Marge touched it." I suggested.  I was catching on
that if Marge had done something, then it was OK for her to do it to. 
Except for actually fucking, of course.

   Her hand came out and she grasped the shaft between her thumb and two
fingers.

   "It's warm" she said.

   "Marge said it felt hot inside her." I said.  I'd said it before I
thought and wished I hadn't as soon as it was out of my mouth.

   Suzy looked up at me.  "I want to, but I'm scared."

   Wow.  Suzy actually admitted she wanted to do something.  Maybe things
were looking up.  I happened on a line that has served me well for many
years.  "You want to maybe try just a little bit?  I can stop if it hurts
or anything."

   She swallowed.  "I really liked it when you ...  what you did before."

   That wasn't too helpful.  "You mean with my finger or my tongue?" I
asked for clarification.

   "Yes." She wasn't in a clarifying mood, apparently.  So I pressed my
case.

   "I really think you'd like this too." I suggested.  "Marge seemed to."

   "Marge LOVED it." said Suzy.  "She wouldn't stop talking about it."

   Suzy seemed to be thinking, so I just stood there.  She took her hand
away and, for some reason, looked at her fingers, like she expected to see
them stained dark or something.  She looked back at me.  "Maybe just a
little bit.  But you have to stop if I say so, OK?"

   "Deal." I said.  But I didn't move.  I didn't have any rubbers yet.  But
I didn't want to bring that up.  Suzy's pussy looked like it would feel
really good wrapped around my dick.

   Finally I crawled back up on the bed.  Suzy spread her legs without any
help from me and I crawled between them.  She put her hand on my chest as
my dick got within a couple of inches from her pussy lips.  The fear was
back in her eyes.

   "Why don't you hold it?" I suggested.  "Rub yourself with it a little."

   She liked that idea, and this time, when she grasped my dick, it was
more firmly.  I eased it forward and let her swab it around between those
slick lips.  She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes again.  I let my
back sag and it poked into her a little, but only a little.  It was lodged
in the opening enough that she had to pull hard to rub it up over her
clitty.  I pulled back a little so it would be easier for her, and then
sagged back.  I sort of poked her pussy opening with it, not pushing hard
or anything, and pulling back so I could poke it again.  I did that a few
more times, but I wasn't really getting anywhere.  My back was beginning to
ache from the strain of holding myself up.  To distract myself I dropped my
head and sucked one of her nipples again.

   Suzy's nipples were tied directly to her cum button I think.  If I'd
have pinched them while I was licking her pussy I think she'd have cum. 
The effect sucking on them had was to make her pussy jump up off the bed.

   My cock tried to stop her, but what happened was it popped her cherry. I
felt maybe two inches of my cock slide into her.  She was hot in there.

   "OOOWWwww" she squealed.  I felt her hands lock onto my shoulders.  I
lifted my head and her eyes were wide open.  I froze.  She knew I hadn't
done anything on purpose, which was good.  Then she said "That hurts
Bobby."

   "You want me to take it out?" I asked.  My heart wasn't in it.

   "I don't know." she answered.

   That was kind of strange.  If something hurts you stop doing it ... 
right?

   "It feels really weird." she said.  "It hurts, but not in a bad way."

   I didn't understand that either.  "Maybe I'd better take it out." I
said. I started to withdraw and her hands clenched my shoulders.  Hard!.

   "No don't move!" she said.  "It hurts."

   My back was killing me now.  "I have to move Suzy, my back is killing
me." I explained.  I felt my back weaken and I sagged a little and went
back in about as far as I'd pulled out.

   "Wait!" she said.  "It's not so bad now."

   Neither of us were thinking about the fact Mr.  Happy's head was bigger
than his body, or shaft.  It was the head that had stretched her torn hymen
and caused most of the pain.  But once the head was past her cherry, there
was less pressure.

   I couldn't stay completely still.  I sagged a little more, driving
another inch into her.  Her pupils dilated.

   "I can't help it." I moaned.  "My back is killing me."

   "Just lie down on me." she said.  From her vantage point, it probably
looked like I was doing a pushup.  So letting down onto her wouldn't really
move anything right?

   Wrong.  I let myself fall down on her and, in the process, filled her
pussy with most of my cock.

   She let out a strangled "whoof" as my weight settled on her and I
realized that a lot more of my cock suddenly felt nice and warm and snug.

   My face was right above hers.  I tried to look sorry.  "I'm really sorry
Suzy." I said.  "I didn't think it would go in more." I started to push
myself off of her and her hands wrapped around my back.

   "DON'T MOVE." she ordered.

   I felt the strangest sensation along my cock.  It was like it was being
squeezed.

   "Did you do something?" I asked.

   She nodded.  "It feels better now.  But it's so strange.  I have muscles
I didn't know I had until there was something to push them against."

   "What should I do?" I asked.  I really didn't know what I SHOULD do.

   "Kiss me." she said.

   OK, that was easy.  I kissed her and she slipped her tongue in my mouth
and the kiss got better and better and all of a sudden I was sort of
rocking on top of her.  I realized her hands were on my back, making me
move.  I didn't move very much, but it was enough that I could feel my
penis moving in her pussy ever so little.

   The kiss broke.  She looked at me and said "Can you put any more in?"

   I got my toes dug in and pushed with them.  My prick slid the rest of
the way in her and I felt the tip bump into something rubbery.  Suzy's
mouth opened and she gulped in air and suddenly her hips pushed at me.

   "Ohhhhhhhh" she moaned.

   "Better?" I asked.

   She nodded furiously and her hands pulled again and before I knew it I
was fucking Suzy Rumbell Like we'd been doing it for years.

   With Large Marge it had been a tumultuous fast paced and violent thing.
But with Suzy it was much more sedate.  It's not like we didn't do
anything, but what we did was what I'd call caressing.  My prick caressed
her pussy inside her, and our bodies caressed each other's on the outside.
That made it easy to kiss, and we kissed almost the whole time I was moving
inside her.  I also learned that if I went in until the tip of my cock
touched that spongy thing up inside her, and then I rubbed my hips back and
forth, she'd have that orgasm I couldn't give her with just my mouth.  And
even her orgasms were more gentle in a way.  She tensed up, like she had
when I fingerfucked her, and she made that little "EEEEEEE" sound each
time, but she didn't flop all over the place like Marge had.

   After the second time she tensed up and whined through a nice cum, she
admitted that she was one of the girls who had listened at the door as
Marge got her cherry picked.  "And I heard her voice and it sounded like
she was in pain, but now I understand."

   Suzy never got tired of having orgasms either.  But, freshly deflowered
as she was, she got sore.  I didn't know it until she broke a kiss and said
"Margie showed us ...  what you did inside her.  I want that too."

   That was the first time she'd actually asked for something, and what she
asked for was my seed.  I'd just been having fun stroking her and watching
her face work up to that tensed up "EEEEEEE" I was beginning to love so
much.  But when she actually asked me to cum in her it was like she had
flipped a switch.  All it took was four or five more strokes and I pushed
in, banged against that rubbery place and felt streams of soothing cum
flush through my cock and into her.

   Her response was "MMmmm I can feel it.  It IS hot." That's when she told
me she was getting sore, and asked me to stop.  I wasn't all that tired,
really, because I'd been lying on top of her the whole time.  But I rolled
off of her to let her breathe easier.  She looked up at the ceiling and
said "I guess you think I'm a slut now."

   I didn't quite roll back on top of her, but I rolled onto her mostly and
put my face right in hers.  "Never!" I said.

   "But I let you do all kinds of nasty things to me." she said.

   "You're Suzy Rumbell.  You're beautiful and sexy and I'll take your
boobs over Dolly Parton's any day of the week.  And if you want me to stop
calling you Loosey Suzy I will."

   "I don't know." she said.  "If you don't call me that you'll call me
something else and that might be even worse.

   Which is how Suzy got her new nickname.  I called her "H.M." after that.
Only she and I knew that stood for Hot Mamma.  I told her she was hot, and
that I wished I was her baby so I could suck those fabulous nipples
whenever I got hungry.

   She cried, and then she kissed me some more.  When she left the room to
go find the rest of the posse her smile was so wide I thought her face just
had to hurt.

   CHAPTER FIVE

   After Suzy my relationship with the posse changed.  I had now been
intimate with, from their perspective, two of them.  Those two had a much
different relationship with me than they had in the past.  Suzy and I had
our little secret in her new name and she reveled in it.  Sometimes she'd
come crashing into the house with all the rest of them and then stop in
front of me, whether I was standing or sitting, watching TV or making a
peanut butter sandwich and she'd say "What's my name?"

   When she asked, I played hard to get.  Usually I'd say something like
"What are you talking about?  You know your name." of "Gee, I can't
remember.  Doesn't it have something to do with being skinny?" Her attitude
toward that was to patiently ask the same question again until I at least
used "H.M." in a sentence.  I'd finally say something like "I give up H.M.
What IS your name anyway?"

   And she invariably grinned that big beautiful smile.  If there was no
one else around I might even get a kiss.  With Marge it was more subtle. 
If she passed me in the hall she "bumped" into me, almost always with her
chest.  She'd goose me too, front or rear; it didn't make any difference to
her.  But she was careful about it.

   Claire had made some rule that nobody could do it with me again until
everybody had done it once.  I heard about that rule from one of the girls
later, but I didn't know it then.  But I did now something was up because
both girls who'd let me into them showed plenty of evidence that they
wanted to do it again ...  except they wouldn't.

   I'll give you an example.  Marge was in the house one night.  She and
Claire were doing homework together.  Marge was good at Spanish, and Claire
didn't even know how to say "No" in Spanish, if you get my drift.  Marge
went to the bathroom, and on her way back darted into my room, where I was
lying on the bed doing Geometry.  She grabbed my cock through my jeans and
said "I miss that little sucker." Then she skipped away from me as I
reached for her.

   "Hey, I'm here for you." I said.  That was one of the new and popular
phrases in the psycho babble wars about who was OK and who wasn't OK and
why it mattered that everybody had to BE OK.

   She lit up.  "You want to do it again?" she asked.

   "Oh yeah." I said, suavely, of course.  "Every time you touch me I get
all hard and ready to play."

   That's what girls want to hear ...  right?

   "Ohhhh, poor baby" she said in baby talk.  "I feel so sorry for you. 
Enjoy your math." Then she just walked out.  No kiss, no cuddle, no stinky
finger ...  no nothing!

   And another afternoon, when they had all come to our house after school
and were getting ready to go out somewhere I snuck up behind Suzy when she
was alone and reached around her to put my hands over her breasts.  She
still wore oversized shirts, and she still went braless.  I pinched those
lovely big nipples of hers and she slapped my hands away.  She turned
around and said "What's my name Bobby?" in this soft voice that made my
dick spring to attention.

   I didn't mess with her that time.  I said "It's H.M., which stands for
Hot Mamma and I'm hungry right now."

   She said "I love it when you do that." and then followed that up with
"Gotta go.  Go make yourself a snack or something." And she turned around
and flounced off.

   I mean I was getting SERIOUS mixed signals, and I didn't have the
faintest idea what they meant.

   It was another three weeks before the posse came back to our house for
another sleepover.  I knew our parents were going to be at a movie that
night, and I had strong suspicions that Claire would tell me I was going to
get to pick another cherry.

   But she didn't.  At supper I casually mentioned "So I suppose I won't be
able to get any peace and quiet tonight because your posse is going to tear
up the house again."

   My mother said "Bobby, don't tease your sister.  She's lucky to have all
those friends.  Besides, aren't you going out with your friends?"

   That was a problem.  I liked my friends just fine, and spending time
with them too.  But if you weighed getting a piece of ass against hanging
out with Phil and Dennis ...  guess what won?

   But there were certain parental expectations about their children's
behavior, and the last thing I wanted to do was arouse any suspicions. 
"Well, sure, but I may actually want to sleep too."

   Mom just turned to Claire and said "Try to keep things to a dull roar
tonight honey, OK?"

   Claire, not to be outdone, responded "He couldn't possibly hear us over
that dinosaur snore of his anyway." She smiled sweetly at me.

   After supper I tried again when Claire and I were alone.  "Don't you ...
uh ...  need me tonight?" I asked.

   She faced me and got right up next to me until her breasts touched my
chest.  "I'll tell you when I need you.  Go play with your friends."

   I wanted to say "I'd rather play with YOUR friends." but I knew that
would give her too much power over me.  I might have been horny, but I
wasn't stupid.  Instead, I said "OK" and tweaked one of her nipples.  She
jumped back, yelling at me, but I was ahead on points so I didn't care.

   In fact I had a good time with Phil and Dennis, who were glad to have me
back.  Since I'd been spending time with the girls, that took away from
time with the guys.  Of course I didn't tell them that.  First off they'd
have never believed me, and second they'd try to horn in and get some of
the action themselves.  I just told them I'd gotten in trouble for doing
something to Claire and had gotten grounded.

   In fact, I had actually given up on the idea that I'd get to play with
another girl that night.  When I got back home Mom and Dad were getting
ready to go to bed.  I got the impression from their comments that it had
apparently been a romantic comedy of some sort that adults were attracted
to, and Mom was all giddy, kissing my father a lot.  When she said good
night and dragged him off I had a pretty good idea what THEY were doing in
thier bedroom.  And even though it was weird to think about my parents
making the two-backed beast, I was a little grumpy that they were probably
having fun while I lay in my own bed, alone and horny.

   But the girls stayed in Claire's room.  I even listened in at the holes
in the wall, but didn't hear anything suggesting they were even thinking
about me, much less drawing straws or anything like that to see who got to
expand her sexual horizons.  I did hear squeals and something about a
killer cute outfit and makeup, but then they always talked about cute
outfits and makeup.

   So I just happened to be lying on my bed, naked, stiff cock in hand,
getting ready to solve the problem, when Unique Monique slipped into my
room.  Apparently, her argument that she had missed her turn had won the
day.

   I suddenly had a pretty good idea what that cute outfit was they had
been talking about.  I didn't know where Monique got it.  Back in those
days there weren't stores that sold slinky lingere to teenaged girls.  All
us guys knew it existed, because we saw it in Playboy, but you never saw it
in a store some place waiting to be sold.

   But she HAD found it somewhere, and I was extremely appreciative that
she had.  It was cream colored, like coffee with a lot of cream in it, and
it set off her dark skin and darker hair beautifully.  She had makeup on
too, and somehow it made her cheekbones stand out.  The outfit consisted of
a pair of panties and bra that looked like it had been knitted by some
lonely old Grandmother somewhere.  It was purely for looks.  The yarn, or
whatever it was made of, formed a net, with holes big enough to stick your
finger through.  The whole effect was like a bikini, but it didn't hide
anything at all.  The contrast was really amazing.  She was in the dark
part of the room - I only had my reading light on - but the material was
light colored and everything else about her was dark.

   She stepped closer and I saw that her nipples were poking out through
two of the holes in that net.  They were dark too.  I had seen pictures of
dark nipples before, but all the real ones I'd seen were pink or brown. 
Monique's were almost black.  I found out about ten minutes later that she
had some dark lipstick on them, but they were still the darkest nipples I'd
ever seen.

   My eyes strayed down her flat belly to the bottoms of the outfit. 
Monique's pussy hair was dark too.  It was thick, and it was poking out
between those strands of cream colored yarn.  All in all she looked ... 
fabulous.  I had a sudden thought that she looked more like a Playboy Bunny
than Miss September did.

   She hadn't said a word yet, but really, she didn't have to.  Just
appearing in my room dressed like that was a silent shout that I was going
to get incredibly lucky.  Her gaze went from my face to the cock in my hand
and back again.

   Monique wasn't as easy to read as some of the other girls.  Her face
didn't show as much about what she was thinking.  But those nipples were
hard, and she stepped closer and closer toward me.

   What could I say to her to communicate how beautiful and sexy I thought
she was?  She deserved poetry, which I hated with the same passion that all
teenaged boys hated it.  But I knew that women who looked like this
deserved poetry.

   "You look like a poem." I blurted.

   "You look like a naughty boy." she said right back, looking back at my
hand, which was now just holding my rock hard prick.  I had been moving it
up and down, but when she came into the room I froze.  Now, for some
unaccountable reason, I jerked my hand away from my bone.  It wobbled a
little bit and then settled into its anti-aircraft position.  When I was
about thirteen I used to lie there just looking at my stiff prick, pointing
up like the guns I saw in old war movies.  I was impressed back then.

   Now, as I looked at it, it just looked like a penis.  I hoped she was
impressed.

   "Only naughty boys masturbate." said Monique.  She had an deep alto
voice that, even in normal conversation, caught the ear.  It was mellow and
smooth.  It was the kind of voice you hear on the radio and it makes you
have fantasies about what the woman who owns that voice looks like.  Let me
tell you boys, she looks like Monique.  Don't get me wrong.  She could
scream and squeal with the best of them, but she seemed more cultured than
the others, like her parents were better educated or whatever.  She was a
good student and got all A's.

   I was so struck by her appearance that I didn't think about what I was
saying.  My mind just supplied words and I said them.

   "All boys masturbate." I said.

   "Really?" she commented.  "That's not good."

   "Why?" I asked.

   "Cause ...  if it gets all soft it won't be any good to me."

   Man, she was good.  She was a virgin, or claimed to be, but her actions
were those of a woman with LOTS of experience.

   "It's beautiful" she said, stepping right next to the bed.

   Well, it had been called "pretty" and now "beautiful".  I would have
hoped for "Studly" or maybe "Bullish", or even "Wow, it's BIG".  But,
coming from her lips, "beautiful" was just fine.

   "Thank you." I said inanely.

   "Can I touch it?" she asked.

   "Oh please" I begged.

   She reached out and grasped it, bending over a little bit.  I noticed
that her breasts didn't move an inch, or hang down more or anything like
that.  They had to be rock hard.  They weren't as big as Large Marge's, but
they were bigger than I had thought they'd be.  Her hair, on the other
hand, flowed all over the place.  It was heavy black hair, straight as an
arrow and it shone in the light from my reading lamp with that bluish glint
that only truely black hair gives off.

   Then my eyes went to her hand as it closed around my cock.  For some
reason she stood it up straight.  Her grip was light ...  tentative.  It
was the first sign that she wasn't completely sure of herself.  Very slowly
she skinned the foreskin down over the head, her eyes glued to the exposed
tip.

   "I missed my turn." she said, as if someone else was in the room and she
was informing them of critical information.

   "I'm sorry." I babbled.

   "No you're not" she said, again conversationally.  "You fucked Suzy in
my bed and you loved it."

   Hearing her use the word "fuck" was so bizarre that I was actually
shocked.

   "She loved it too." added Monique.  "I've been jealous ever since."

   Her hand skinned back up my cock and then down again.

   "I'm sorry" I tried again.

   She looked at my eyes and hers were dark, like the rest of her.  There
was emotion there, but I couldn't identify what kind of emotion it was. 
She was acting so calm ...  measured almost ...  like she was acting out a
scene she had practiced for a long time.

   "Do you like my PJs?" she asked.

   Never in a thousand years would I have called what she was wearing
"PJs". It was another odd little thing that suggested she wasn't quite as
sure of herself as she appeared to be.  Then again, what the hell DID you
call something like that?

   "Uh huh." I said, arching my hips up off the bed as her hand caressed me
again.

   "I made it." she said.  "I crocheted it myself ...  just for this.  I
had to make a hat too, so my Mom wouldn't know what the yarn was really
for." She licked her lips.  "I didn't wear the hat, though."

   Now I KNEW she was nervous.  For some reason I felt a lot better all of
a sudden.  There for a minute I had been feeling like a mouse, sitting out
in the open, with a big eagle staring at me or something.

   "You should have." I said.  "It would have gone really good with your
hair."

   OK, I was still nervous too.  But hey, no compliment is wasted ... 
right?

   "There's something I've wanted to do for a long time." said Monique.

   I couldn't think of a single thing that I didn't want her to do to me
right then.

   "Go for it." I said.

   She licked her lips again and, before I could react, bent further,
skinned my foreskin back, and sucked the head of my cock into her mouth.

   I don't know what the actual medical name is for what happened to me,
but I'm sure it was some kind of siezure.  I've heard people try to
describe what an epileptic siezure looks like, and I'm pretty sure I did a
fair imitation of that.  I know I made tortured sounds and flopped around
enough that she had to suddenly grip my cock so hard it was almost painful.
But there wasn't anything about those few seconds I'd catalogue as painful,
really.  The dictionary is chock full of superlatives that could be applied
to it ...  pick any one of them, or a dozen and you get the idea.  What I
am most glad of now is that I had no idea she would do that.  If I'd have
known I'd have blown in her mouth immediately.

   And that would have made my cock soft.

   And Unique Monique would have been unhappy.

   I didn't want Monique to ever be unhappy about anything ...  ever again.


   Her mouth did a little suck ...  tongue twirl ...  slide around a little
bit kind of thing and then she pulled her mouth off and looked at the tip,
like she expected something to happen.

   "I knew I'd like that." she said.  She looked up at my face again.  "I
want to do more of that ...  later.  OK?"

   I was gasping and trying to remember who I was and what all those shiny
lights I had seen with my eyes closed were, and what planet I was from ...
that kind of thing ...  but I nodded frantically.

   "You're so funny." said Monique, smiling.  "You make me feel good."

   At that particular point in time I wanted to be hilarious, and make
Monique feel all those superlatives in the dictionary I just mentioned. 
Once again, if this particular member of the posse had asked me to marry
her right then and there, I'd have babbled "YES!  OH THANK YOU." I was her
slave, and all she'd done was suck the tip of my cock a little.

   And make an outfit to lose her virginity in.

   "But I want to do something else first." she said, letting go of my
prick.  Mr.  Happy never felt so alone and sad in his whole life as he did
right then.

   "OK." said my befuddled brain to my mouth, which repeated it out loud.
Then, because niether suave nor debonair were within light years of my
room, I said "I don't have a rubber though."

   After I had time to think about that statement, I realized that Monique
was the first girl to appear to me primarily as a loving human being who
deserved only the best in life.  What happened to her mattered to me on a
level I hadn't experienced before in my life.  I mean I loved Claire, and
wanted her to be happy in life, and if something bad happened to her I'd do
anything to help her.  And both Marge and Suzy were special to me too in a
way that only real friendship has ever been special to me since then.

   But with Monique I didn't ever want to hurt her in any way of any sort.
Her nickname might have suggested that, if I'd have thought about it.  Of
them all, her nickname was the only one that wasn't a way of poking fun at
her.  I hadn't realized it before, and really I didn't, even at that
moment, but since then I've thought about it a lot.  I really LIKED
Monique, and she's still one of my best friends today.

   Anyway, the thought of me ...  causing her the grief that an unwed
mother suffered in those days ...  it just wasn't something I wanted to
think about.

   "It's OK" she said in that soft deep voice.  "It's safe for me right
now. That's why we waited this long."

   'We' That word caused me to imagine five other girls, huddling on the
other side of the wall, trying to listen to what was going on.  And they
had helped get her ready.  That's what their talk about the 'cute outfit'
and makeup was about.  Suddenly it was like they were all right there in
the room, in the shadows, with score pads, waiting to write down their
scores on cards, like they do in those ice skating competitions my folks
like to watch so much.

   Now that I'm older, I know that what I had was what's called a
'performance complex'.  It causes older men's cocks to fall limp, which
just adds to the problem.  But that outfit, and those perky nipples and her
obvious pleasure at being with me overrode that back then.

   That, and of course, the fact that Unique Monique had just assured me I
could spurt in her pussy.

   And I suddenly wanted ...  BAD ...  to spurt in her pussy.

   Please have a little more patience with me here folks.  I know this is
supposed to be a fast paced rollicking story about fucking and spurting and
the joy of sex, but I also have to explain some things like this, because
it made a real difference in my later life.

   Monique made me ...  care ...  about women.  At least about the women I
liked.

   Finally my mind started functioning.  "Your PJ's are gorgeous." I said,
moving over to give her room to climb up on the bed.  "You're gorgeous."

   Her smile was genuine, but didn't match the words that came out of her
mouth.  "I'm really nervous about this."

   I patted the bed beside me.  "I wouldn't hurt you for a chance to meet
Elvis." I said.

   She lay down on the bed, leaving several inches of space between us. 
"What do we do now?" she asked.

   Suddenly all her cool demeanor evaporated.  If she had practiced what
she'd just done, that's all she'd practiced.

   "I'd love to kiss you." I said.  "And a whole lot more.  But if you feel
nervous just tell me, OK?"

   She nodded and leaned forward a little bit as I leaned in to press my
lips to hers.  She had big soft lips that smooshed and moved when I kissed
her, and her tongue tip was right there at my lips as I opened them.  She
had obviously kissed somebody before, because she was a good kisser.  I
felt her hand on my hip as she leaned further toward me and I put my hand
on the net of yarn that covered her hip.  That kiss was a long one, but it
wasn't urgent or anything.  It was just nice and warm and long.

   Whhen our lips came apart I said "You're a good kisser."

   She smiled again.  "I practiced with my Teddy Bear."

   "You're kidding." I said.

   "No, really.  I spent hours kissing him.  I've wanted to do this for a
long time, Bobby."

   Dumb me.  I thought she just meant 'kissing a boy'.  I'd find out later
she meant she wanted to kiss ME.  Hence my flippant remark: "Well, you get
your wish.  Kiss me all you want."

   She did too.  And when my hand strayed up to those lace covered breasts
she just kissed me harder.  Her nipples stuck through the mesh, and they
were so long and hard that I couldn't wait to taste them.  I kissed my way
down to them and sucked one in.

   Monique made happy sounds.

   Her nipples were thick, besides being long.  I've never seen nipples
like that on a woman younger than probably thirty, but I had a blast
sucking them.  I wanted to get more in my mouth, and pushed her bra up and
off of one breast.  She liked that too, and in short order she ordered me
to stop so she could take it off.  It had to go over her head like a T
shirt, because the way it was knitted or crocheted or whatever it was made
it all one piece.

   Then I suckled both nipples like a dying man.  They were just fabulous.
I didn't even care that they tasted like the lipstick she'd darkened them
with.

   At one point she moaned "Oh Bobby I'm so close to feeling good." I
figured that meant she had experienced an orgasm before, most probably with
her fingers or something like that, and she called that 'feeling good.' And
I wanted Monique to feel good.  So I didn't exactly warn her that I was
going to slide my hand into those net panties of hers and push my fingers
through all that thick kinky hair down there, until I found her thoroughly
wet and slippery gash, or that I was going to hook a finger up inside her
and pull, so as to mash her clitty.  I sucked firmly on her left nipple as
I did that.

   She let out a little "Eeeep", but then went off like a roman candle
almost immediately.  It came out as a kind of "OOoooooo ...  Awwwwww ... 
OHhhhhh ...  Unnnnng" and her hands crushed my head to her breast.

   I jerked my finger around in her a little bit and she shook like a dog
trying to get dry after a swim.  Then she rolled away from me and lay limp,
pulling that nipple out of my mouth with a 'pop'.

   I was up on my left elbow and looked down at her half opened eyes.  "How
was that?" I asked.

   "Fuck me." she said.  Her voice was so clear and mellow and completely
understandable, but the words just didn't fit and I stared at her for a few
seconds.  She started wiggling out of her bottoms, though, and that
convinced me.

   Monique had no fear.  She might have been nervous, but she had no fear.
That sounds strange, but it was like that.  When she dropped her panties on
the floor beside the bed she spread her legs and reached for me.  I crawled
up over her and didn't even get to see those pussy lips, hidden by all that
lush growth of hair.  I looked down and my cock was nesting there in that
hair.  Monique's hand slipped between us and she grasped my prick lightly,
aiming it where she wanted it.

   She was hot as fire.  I almost pushed hard, but then remembered I didn't
want to hurt her.  So I pushed gently, expecting to feel resistance.  I
just nudged the head of my cock into her opening.

   "I put a banana up in me ..." she said, her voice breathy with
excitement.  "It hurt, but I wanted to be ready." Monique had done a LOT of
planning, getting ready for this.

   I looked back up at her eyes and she was biting her lower lip.  She let
it go and said "Fuck me Bobby."

   I slid forward into hot, tight, buttery pussy.

   And promptly blew Unique Monique full of hot, buttery, very dangerous
teenaged sperm.

   Talk about your premature ejaculation.  That was my night for all the
sexual dysfunctions known to man.  Well, except that I didn't have any
problem getting a hardon before we started.  And, to my amazement, I was so
keyed up, I STAYED hard, even as I felt the sweet jolts of semen rushing
through my prick and into Monique.

   Her eyes squinted with the strain of accepting my prick, and then
immediately widened as she felt the heat of my ejaculate spurting into her.


   "It feels so hot ...  and wet ..." she said, her voice sounding amazed
too.

   "That's because I just came." I gasped.

   "Already?" There were definite tones of unhappiness in Monique's voice
and they struck me to the core.  My luscious, precious, special Monique
wasn't happy.

   "Don't worry" I said with confidence I hoped was well founded.  "I think
I can keep going."

   And I did, too.  I think part of that was because she was now so
slippery in her, and that my prick was desensitized because I'd just cum,
that there was very little stimulation.  For my prick, I mean.  My MIND was
still going a mile a minute, thinking that I NEEDED to make Monique happy.

   It doesn't sound very romantic, but what I did to Monique then was
basically poke and prod her.  I tried to go as deep as I could to hit that
special spongy place I'd found in other girls, that they seemed to love me
poking so much.  And I made sure to grind against her clitty as much as I
could.  And, of course, at the same time, I sucked those luscious nipples
as often as I could get my lips locked around one.  And Monique got happy.
In fact, I'd have to say, with no little pride, she got ecstatic.  She
wiggled and squrimed and thrust and made all kinds of very nice noises that
told me she was happy and then some.  She had tense, but quiet orgasms,
during which she almost always tried to keep her lips closed, making a
"MMMMMM" sound before her face split into a wide grimace that looked like
pain.  But her voice told me she wasn't in any pain at all.  And if her
voice wasn't enough, her hands, sliding along my back ...  gripping my
buttocks and pulling when she did that little grimace, and her hips pushing
up hard, told me that Monique was glad she was there under me, with her
pussy full of my spunk, as I poked and prodded her through three more
orgasms.

   I couldn't manage to cum again.  I wanted to.  I wanted to BAD.  But it
just wasn't going to happen.  But you know?  That didn't really bother me.
Monique was so happy about all this that just watching her was as much fun
as cumming was.

   After her third orgasm I stopped for a while.  I was pretty tired by
then.  I kissed her, slipping my tongue into her mouth and she kissed me
back.

   "Was that what you had in mind?" I asked, not sure I really should have
opened myself up to criticism.

   "I love you Bobby." she said simply.

   "No you don't." I said, kissing her again with a quick peck.  "It's just
the hormones talking."

   "Do you have to stop now?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

   "I'm pretty well used up." I admitted.

   "Thank you." she said.  She was so polite and happy sounding.  It just
made my heart soar.  "Suzy said you'd be gentle and nice." she added.

   As I recalled it I'd stuffed Suzy too full of cock, too fast, and it
hadn't been very gentle at all.  And then after she got used to it I wasn't
very gentle either.  And with Marge?  I'd pounded the crap out of her.

   But Unique Monique was happy with me, and all the world was right.

   "No problem." I tossed off.

   "You don't have to get up off of me." said happy Monique.  "I like the
way you feel lying on me."

   Monique wasn't in a hurry to get back to the girls and regale them with
her description of Bobby in action.  Monique wanted to be with me ... 
wanted to keep feeling my skin rubbing against her skin ...  wanted more
kisses.

   Well, what Monique wanted was a few more orgasms.  And somewhere - I
don't have any idea where, mind you - she learned that teenage boys can
recuperate quickly.  Monique strung it out until Mr.  Happy woke up and
said "Huh?  Is she still here?  OH BOY!"

   Monique got herself two more orgasms.

   AND another pussyful of spunk.

   ================================================================

   The next morning at breakfast was a little easier than the last time. 
This time there were four girls sitting around the table who had felt my
cock spurting up inside them, including Claire, who was still a secret as
far as I knew.  Only Miss September and Knobby Robby looked at me like I
was some kind of interesting exhibit in a zoo.  Well, Donna did anyway. 
Roberta still wouldn't look at me directly, but I felt her eyes on me when
I wasn't looking her way.  Usually Robby would talk to me, even when the
others stuck up their noses at "that boy".  But since I had been destroying
virginities right and left, she hadn't said so much as a word to me.  I
kind of missed that.

   So I tried to strike up a conversation with her.

   "Hey Robby, you want to shoot some hoops or something later?" I offered.


   There were titters around the table.  Too late I realized what all of
them thought I meant by "or something".  Robby's response was totally
unpredicted.

   "Not with YOU!" she blurted.  Then she turned as bright a shade of
crimson as I'd ever seen a girl's face get.

   That led to enough laughter that my mother turned around from the
counter.  "What's going on?" she asked, staring at us all.

   Everybody got quiet.  It was the worst thing they could have done.  My
mother was a sharp cookie.

   Thankfully she assumed what she'd always assumed.  "Bobby, have you been
picking on Roberta again?  I TOLD you not to do that young man.  And I TOLD
you what I'd do if you continued." She was getting worked up into a rant
and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

   Of all the people to save me I didn't think it would be Robby.  But she
did.

   "It's OK Mrs.  Watkins said Robby.  He knows I twisted my ankle the
other day and he knows that's the only way he could beat me at basketball.
He was just offering to play me when I'm not at my best."

   I didn't know if she'd actually twisted her ankle or not, but she hadn't
been hobbling around.  If she was lying she was good at it.  There was no
way she missed the double entendre that the other girls were giggling
about.

   My mother took a breath.  She liked to rant once in a while.  But Robby
had taken the wind out of her sails, making it sound like I was only trying
to beat her at HORSE or something.  Mom turned back around, muttering to
herself about lame-brained boys trying to take advantage of poor injured
girls.  Robby only made it worse by sticking out her tongue at me.

   More titters from the posse, who had thoroughly enjoyed how things
turned out.  Robby had made me sound like a cretin and they hadn't gotten
caught.  All in all, the way they looked at it, it was girls one and boys
zero.

   And here I thought they had started to like me or something.

   The posse hung around our house all that Saturday, but they avoided me
like I was the plague or something.  This is why guys go insane and shoot
up post offices.  Here I thought I was the new fair-haired boy, with pussy
at my beck and call ...  maybe ...  and then they act like I'm some sort of
unacceptable lout who doesn't deserve the courtesy of a simple
acknowledgement.

   So I went off and played basketball with Phil and Dave.

   When I got back Claire was alone in the house.  Mom and Dad had gone to
their bowling league.

   "C'mere" said Claire authoritatively.  "I want to show you something."

   I followed her, off balance at being treated like a human being.

   When we got to her room she turned around and her blouse was unbuttoned.
What she wanted to show me was her tits.

   Then, to my astonishment she attacked me, throwing her arms around me
and kissing me hard on the lips.  When I grabbed her waist to keep my
balance, my hands slid inside her shirt and landed on warm skin.

   I was kind of caught off guard, you know?  I knew what she wanted ... 
but I didn't understand what was going on.  Being smart enough not to stop
and say "I don't understand, Claire." I just went with the moment, which
evolved into both of us tearing off clothing like it was five hundred
degrees and naked was the only way we'd survive.

   Then she plastered her naked body against my naked body and pulled me to
the bed somehow, managing to keep her lip lock on me even as we fell onto
the bed.  That didn't work out very well, though, because half of us WASN'T
on the bed, and that half, being our legs and buttocks, pulled us to the
floor in a tangle.

   Claire actually LAUGHED!

   Then she scrambled up and pulled me up and this time we managed to get
onto the bed in the standard missionary position, whereupon she fisted my
iron hard cock - when did THAT get so hard?  - and notched it into her
pussy.  I quit trying to think and just shoved.

   I just love the sound of a woman who's just been penetrated by my cock
and likes it.  There just isn't any sound in the world that's so sweet to
my ears.

   And then it was off to the races.  Claire was a violent, passionate
lover - still is for that matter - and making love to her was a violent
passionate affair.

   Thankfully she was able to get off even more quickly than I suddenly
wanted to, and when I felt my jets of warm semen flushing into her pussy
she was already stroking my back and panting that I was the best and that
she loved me and that if I never stopped doing that to her it would be OK
with her.

   I didn't have the air to speak until I'd rolled off of her and was lying
beside her on the bed.  She had two fingers on her pussy, rubbing little
circles gently, almost casually, and was just staring up at the ceiling.

   "What was that all about?" I finally asked.  "I thought you were pissed
off at me."

   She turned her head and her eyes were nice ...  soft.  "Whatever gave
you THAT idea?" she asked.  "I just got so horny thinking about what you
did with the girls that I just needed to feel you in me."

   I thought about all that "We'll see what happens in the future." crap
she'd laid on me after our first time.  Obviously she thought I was her
little fuck toy or something.

   Then again ...  life could be worse.

   "So Monique had a good time?" I hazarded.

   "Oh Monique had better than just a good time.  Monique says that someday
she's going to have your baby." My sister said that like it was the most
normal thing in the world to tell a naked man lying beside her while she
rubbed her clit.

   "So what was up with Robby?" I asked.  So far my questions weren't
getting me yelled at, and I had a serious lack of knowledge about what was
going on.

   "She's scared.  She doesn't want to do it with you." said Claire, as if
she was talking about Robby not particularly liking Brussel sproouts, and
not wanting it to be served to her for dinner.

   "Claire?" I said.

   "What?" she said back.

   "I don't want to hurt any of the girls." What I actually meant was a lot
more complicated than that, but that was how it came out.

   "You're sweet." she said.  "But don't worry about it.  She'll come
around."

   "I thought we weren't going to do this any more." I said suddenly.  "You
and me, I mean."

   She looked at me again.  "That's wrong." she said.  "We're going to do
this a lot."

   Now I felt safe saying what I'd had the urge to say a while back.  "I
don't understand ...  " Then I added.  "I don't want to get any of the
girls in trouble." I meant pregnant.

   "We're working on that." said my sister.  Back then, getting on the pill
wasn't easy unless your parents knew about it.  And back then a fifteen or
sixteen year old girl didn't just go to her parents and say "I think it's
about time I went on the pill, don't you agree?" And you could get condoms
for a quarter in machines in the bathroom of gas stations, but they sold
things like "Instant Pussy" in those machines too.  "Instant Pussy was this
capsule that, when you dropped it into water, melted and inside was a
little piece of foam that was shaped like a cat sitting down.  Ha Ha.  All
us guys fell for that one, and it was an unspoken pact never to tell the
uninitiated what it actually was.  But my point is, would you trust the
condoms sold by the same company that sells "Instant Pussy"?

   "For now" said Claire, "We just have to plan things according to our
visits."

   Girls used to talk about their periods being "visits".  My sister had
"visits" from Fred.  That was her code word for her being on the rag.  I
don't think they do that nowadays, but they did back then.

   "What about Donna?" I asked.

   Claire looked funny at me.  "You just squirted and you want to know
about Donna?" she retorted.

   "I just don't want to do the wrong thing." I said.  The number of times
my sister and I had a serious conversation was not big.  I guess we were
growing up or something.  We were sure doing grown up things that we'd
never done before.  She took that in stride too.

   "Don't worry about it" she said.  "You're even better at this than I
thought you'd be, even with what all the other girls say about you." Leave
it to Claire to pay me a compliment and slap me in the face at the same
time.  "I think you'll know when the time is right when it comes to Donna
and Roberta."

   Then, to my astonishment, she rolled over on top of me.  "But let's talk
later.  How soon can you get hard again?  I want to do it again."

   We affirmed that I could do it again really fast when I was motivated.
She experimented with being on top and rode me fast and hard while I played
with those breasts she'd wanted me to see.  At least this time I warned her
I was about to unload a heap of baby makers in her pussy before I did it.

   "It's OK." she panted.  "I'm pretty safe right now."

   Not "I'm safe."

   Not "You won't make a baby in your little sister Bobby."

   Not "You'd better NOT make a baby in your little sister Bobby!"

   I came like a geyser, looking right at her flat empty belly as I filled
it with hot teen spunk, thinking about what it would look like if it
swelled up with my baby inside of it.  Now that I think about it, that
might be what made me so eager to make a baby in a woman later in life.

   Claire kissed me a lot as we both calmed down post-orgasmic.  When she
was happy with me she was a very loving sister.  Those kisses made me want
to go again, but Mr.  Happy just wouldn't cooperate.  She was done anyway.
Two was enough for Claire, and she got all perky.  There's nothing more
erotic than a perky naked teenaged girl in my book.

   But I was done too.

   CHAPTER SIX

   It was almost two months before I got any more sex.  School had let out
and it was June.  The weather was great.  The world should have been sweet.
I wouldn't have thought a guy could get so worked up from a lack of nookie.
I went out on a few dates, and found that it was much harder to stop when
the girls wanted me to.  On the other hand, I had learned a lot with the
posse.  I was getting better at getting them off, though, and there was
always Mother Palm and her five daughters afterward, in my room, easing the
strain.  I began to think that Donna and Robby weren't going to accede to
the sheriff's plan, but actually I didn't mind.  I was ten times more lucky
than most guys my age by then.  Well, OK, four times more lucky, if you
count the encores Claire and I had engaged in.

   I found out later that Claire had decided she needed to be a little more
careful about things.  She had waited until she knew Donna got her 'visit'
and then counted down from that to decide when Donna should surrender her
virginity to the posse's sex toy.  She also wanted to make sure she had her
own period after our dangerous afternoon delight.  But she did and one day,
in the middle of the day, Miss September rang the bell when I happened to
be in the kitchen making a sandwich.  My Mom was doing laundry and Claire
was in her room.  When I opened the door Donna stared at me and stepped
back a step, blushing.  If she'd have told me what she was there for in
plain English she couldn't have been any clearer.

   Donna had come to deliver up her virginity to me.

   I tried to put her at ease.  "Donna!  I'm so glad to see you.  You're
looking particularly beautiful today."

   Now, anybody who knew me would have done a double take to find out who
the Watkins family had invited over, and who had taken it upon themselves
to answer the door.  They'd have seen me standing there, but never in a
million years would they have believed it was actually me.  Not after
hearing me say something like that.  They'd have thought I had a twin
brother nobody had ever heard about ...  a polite twin brother, who had
suddenly appeared.

   Donna didn't believe it either.  "I'm so STUPID!" she said to herself.
"I can't do this." She turned around to leave and I called to her.

   "DONNA!"

   I could see her body jerk in sympathy with her wince.  She stopped and
turned partly around, looking at me over her shoulder.  Man she was good
looking!

   I tried again.  "Look, Donna, you don't have to do anything.  OK?  Just
because the rest ...  well it doesn't matter what they did, OK?  You don't
have to do anything.  Nothing has to change."

   I was really trying to put her at ease, but it didn't work.

   "I knew that's what you'd say.  Suzy said you'd say that.  But
everything already HAS changed Bobby.  It's just not the same any more."

   Well, she was right about that of course.  I went outside and sat down
on the top step.

   "You're right I guess." I started out.  "I mean there have been changes.
Big ones too, as far as I'm concerned.  But that doesn't have to change
things between you and me."

   Now that was a patently stupid speech.  Donna and I didn't really have a
relationship to change.  We'd known each other for years but, other than
lusting after her for the last two or three of them, the only communication
between us had been in the form of barbs or jokes or whatever. 
None-the-less, I patted the porch beside me, inviting her to sit down.  She
did, leaving a good foot and a half between us.  She was looking down and
her long red hair shielded her face from me.

   "Why did you guys even agree to do ...  this ...  in the first place.  I
mean that's really screwy." I said.  "Not that I'm complaining or anything,
but to be honest I was really amazed that you all would make that kind of
pact."

   She looked at me through her hair.  "You really don't understand, do
you." It wasn't a question.

   "I guess I don't." I said.

   "And you just thought Claire came up with this wild plan and we went
along with it." she said.

   "I guess so." I had a premonition that I was about to hear something I
might not like.

   "So you think we're all brainless imbeciles who Claire can push around
and make do whatever she says."

   That sounded ominous.

   "Well, no." I lied.  "I mean I know you're all best friends and all
that, and they're forever telling us that peer pressure can be good or bad.
I just thought ..." I trailed off as I realized that what I thought would
just confirm her suggestion.  "I don't know what to think." I added, trying
to salvage the situation.

   She looked at me for a minute.  "Do you really call me Miss September
because you think I look like that Playboy Bunny?"

   "Yes." I answered immediately.  The truth was easy to come up with. 
"But I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." She didn't say anything.  "If I
did." I kept trying to salvage as much as I could.

   "Does that mean you think I'm sexy?" she asked.

   "Yes." I said.  Keep it simple.  That's my motto.  Unless I'm engaged in
serious bullshitting.  All these repeated questions about whether they
looked sexy, and whether I liked them had convinced my brain that they
weren't just simple questions.  Not to the girls.  They were REAL questions
...  important questions ...  questions that the answers to mattered.

   "Then why didn't you ever ask me out on a date?" she asked.

   Now that was an interesting question.  It was interesting because it had
a multitude of answers.  Some of those answers I thought would be obvious
to her.  I tried one of them first.

   "Well, you're two years younger than me." I started out.

   "So is Mandy Peters, and you took her out." she came back immediately.

   That was true.  I had asked Mandy out.  She was a Freshman cheerleader
and I had the hots for her.  She drew the line at kissing, though.  She had
an older sister who had gotten pregnant right out of High School and the
father had taken off and joined the Army.  She didn't want to have anything
to do with anything that could remotely make babies.  As it turned out she
was the one who broke up with me, because she fell in love with a football
player.  Five months later she was walking around with a swollen belly. 
Life just isn't fair that way.

   "OK, then, you're one of Claire Bear's friends." I said.

   "So is Tiffany Baldridge, and you took her out." shot back Donna.

   That, too, was true, though Tiffany was a year older than them and
wasn't in the posse.  She and Claire had dance classes together and she'd
come over a few times, but when the dance classes were done they didn't
hang around each other much.  She had actually asked me to a dance at
school - the annual Sadie Hawkins dance - and we'd had a lot of fun.  She
liked to have her breasts fondled, and she had really nice breasts, which I
liked fondling, so it had worked out pretty well.  But she wanted to do
more, and, because she wanted to do more, she broke up with me because she
actually DIDN'T want to do more.  That was what she told me when she said
we couldn't go out any more.

   Who understands teenaged girls?

   "But she's not in the posse." I argued.

   "So being in the posse means you won't ask any of us out?" she asked in
that tone that meant it wasn't a real question.

   "I guess.  It would just seem ...  odd." I said.

   "But having sex with us isn't ...  odd." Her voice was level, but I
could hear heat in it.

   I was trying to make her feel better, but it was making me feel worse
somehow.  And I definitely smelled danger in this conversation.

   I fell back on another answer I'd thought of.  It was one that I was
afraid would get me in trouble, but it was all I had left.

   "I've always thought you were cute, and if I'd have taken you out I'd
have tried to get in your panties, and if that didn't work out then you'd
have been mad and still coming over to see Claire and it would have been
all awkward.  Or it might even have broken up your friendship with Claire."
I let that drop into the semi-silence of a spring afternoon.  I could hear
a lawn mower off in the distance somewhere.

   Donna brushed the hair behind her shoulder and I could suddenly see her
whole face.  "Is that true?" she asked.  "Is that the real reason you never
asked me out?"

   We had been talking about why I hadn't asked her out for ten minutes,
and I just that second realized that she'd WANTED me to ask her out ... 
and I never had.  Us guys can be dense like that sometimes.

   "Uh ...  yeah, I guess it is." I said.  I wouldn't have believed me if
I'd been hiding in the bushes listening to this conversation.

   But she did.

   "And the others?  Is that why you never asked any of us out?"

   I was in trouble.  If I answered "Yes" then that meant I'd lusted after
all of them at one time or another.  That was actually true, except for
maybe Robby.  But you didn't admit that to a girl who you'd just admitted
to lusting after.  Right?

   On the other hand, if I answered "No" then that meant I didn't think her
friends were all cute and that there were some of them I DIDN'T lust after,
which meant I was a pig because they were all her friends.  Right?  Plus I
had agreed to have sex with them.

   Now you know why teenaged boys don't want to enter into serious
conversation with girls.  It's too much like taking a stroll in a mine
field.

   I came up with something brilliant.  "I think I never seriously
considered asking any of you out because it might cause problems.  I didn't
want Claire to be mad at me, and I didn't want any of you to be mad at me,
so it was easier just to keep things ...  you know ...  on a simpler level.
I guess I like all of you and don't want to mess that up."

   She looked at me with those green eyes of hers and said "If you're lying
I'll cut your balls off.  You want to go swimming?"

   Girls can do that.  They can deliver the most dire threat and then say
something completely innocuous in the same tone of voice so that you almost
think there was no threat there at all.  You think you must have
misunderstood them.  But somehow I knew that Miss September owned a knife,
or knew where to get her hands on one.  I envisioned a filleting knife, one
of those long thin ones that are extremely sharp.  At the same time, she
wasn't trying to leave any more.  That would have gotten me in trouble with
Claire, no doubt, so things were better.  Right?

   "Sure." I said.  "Let me go get Claire."

   "No" she said firmly.  "Just you and me.  Down at the creek."

   Damn.  I'd stepped on another mine.  It was one of those that doesn't go
off until you let the pressure off, and I was standing right on top of it.

   "OK, but if I get in trouble you have to back me up." I said.

   "Deal." she said.  She stood up, and for the first time, I saw she had a
rolled up towel in her hand.  Inside it was, no doubt, her bathing suit. 
She'd brought it with her.

   "You already have your suit." I was a master of pointing out the
obvious.

   "It was Claire's idea.  She planned on having you take us - her and me -
down to the creek.  I got the idea you and I were supposed to fool around
when we get there.  She's impatient with me because I don't want to do
this. But having Claire there would creep me out.  I'll go with just you,
except I'm not so sure about the fooling around part, OK?"

   "OK" I said, not at all sure that this was a good idea.

   "Just get your suit and a towel and some suntan lotion." she said.  "And
DON'T tell Claire what you're doing."

   Who would say "no" to Miss September?

   Fifteen minutes later I was strolling along beside Miss September, three
blocks from home ...  and Claire ...  heading for the creek.

   "Creek" is probably the wrong word for where we were headed.  Everybody
called it that, but it was lots bigger than a creek.  It wasn't quite a
river though, and if it had a real name I don't know what it was. 
Everybody called it Turkey Creek, because there were wild turkeys in the
woods around it.  There were two bends in Turkey Creek where it went by our
town.  One was an accepted swimming hole, with a rope swing, and a little
broken down dock you could jump off of.  The water there was probably eight
or nine feet deep and that's where most of the kids went to play and swim
if they didn't go to the city pool.  It cost fifty cents to go to the city
pool, which sometimes made the difference.

   The other bend was flanked on one side by dense woods, and the other by
old Mr.  Jenkins' hay field.  It had all manner of signs warning
trespassers to stay away, but Mr.  Jenkins was probably eighty and never
came down there unless he was on a tractor.  You could hear that a mile
away.  The water there was only about four feet deep and the bottom had
that kind of mud that squishes between your toes and you have to actually
scrub at it to get your feet clean when you've been wading in it.  It was
good for lying on the grass to dry off and do some sunbathing, but most
people didn't actually swim there.

   That's where Donna wanted to go.

   It was probably only seventy-five degrees, and the water was really cold
still, so while we went in and waded around for a little while, we didn't
spend long in there.  Then we lay out on the towels.  Donna had on a two
piece swimming suit that was greenish blue and had pictures of fish on it.
It was styled about like a pair of bra and panties, but the fish spoiled
the illusion.  She lay down on her stomach and propped herself up on her
elbows.

   We had been talking about nothing in general.  You know, how nice the
weather was, and how gooey the mud was between our toes, and whether there
were fish in the creek, and whether they would bite if there were.  Just
stuff.  When I lay down beside her though, that changed.

   "You know I went and found that magazine." she said.  "The one you said
had the woman in it you named me after."

   It was hard enough for a boy to get his hands on a Playboy in those
days. I couldn't imagine how a girl did.  "How in the world did you get
one?" I asked.  Not "What did you think of her?" or "You're just as pretty
as she is." It was a practical question, and guys are practical, even when
we shouldn't be.

   "Well ...  actually ...  I told my mother about it and she brought the
magazine home for me to look at." she said.

   Now Donna could have told me that little green men from Mars had just
landed behind me and were about to zap me with a Buck Rogers ray gun and I
would NOT have been more astonished.  Her MOTHER bought a Playboy?  To show
her fourteen year old DAUGHTER?!

   "Wow." was all I could manage.  Then I blurted "You told your MOTHER?!"

   Donna laughed.  "Of course I did.  I didn't know whether to be mad or
flattered.  My Mom's grown up so I knew she'd know what to tell me.  She
laughed about it first.  She likes you.  She said it had to be a
compliment, but she'd never seen a Playboy either, so she went to the
Rexall and bought one.  She said Mr.  Johnson about had a cow when she
asked for it.  She said it was worth the dollar twenty-five just to see the
look on his face when he handed it to her."

   I had a vivid vision of Donna's mother, who was a beautiful woman in her
own right, standing in the drug store holding out her hand for a girly
magazine that Mr.  Johnson kept behind the counter so that us boys wouldn't
be corrupted by looking through it.  Of course HE had undoubtedly looked
through it, quite thoroughly, and was now having to hand it to a woman.  I
laughed at what must have been going through Mr.  Johnson's mind.

   "Wow" I said again.  "That's amazing."

   "Why is it so amazing?" asked Donna.  "If men can look at naked women,
why can't anybody else?"

   "I don't know." I said.  "It must seems weird, I guess." It was a
philosophy I could get used to though.  I thought about sitting around with
a bunch of girls and looking at pictures of naked women.  That might
actually be interesting.  It was one of those completely new ideas -
something you never had a glimmer of a thought about before - that hit you
right in the middle of the forehead and knocked you off course.

   "So what did you do then?" I asked.

   "We opened it up and looked for the woman named Donna.  She was in the
middle and her picture opened out and was real long."

   I knew that.  I'd looked at the same picture.  I was entranced now with
this story.

   "So what did you think?" I asked.

   "I thought you were an idiot." she said calmly.  "I didn't look anything
like that woman.  She was all beautiful and sexy and ...  well she was
beautiful."

   "You're wrong." I said firmly.  "You look so much like her that she
could be one of your relatives."

   "I thought she looked like my mother, not me."

   I disagreed.  Mrs.  Miles had blond hair with reddish highlights, not
dark red like Donna.  Of course her breasts were larger and her hips too,
and she had that hour glass figure that the woman in Playboy had, but I had
superimposed Donna's picture over the Bunny's picture for so long I
couldn't see anyone else.

   "What did your mother say?" I asked.

   "She told me it was too bad we were so young." she said.

   "What?" I asked.

   "She said 'Donna, honey, it's too bad you two are so young.  He's going
to make a good catch for some girl some day.'" Donna sighed.  "And then she
said you'd paid me a very nice compliment.  She also said she might have a
talk with your mother about older boys making compliments like that to
younger girls."

   My mother had never said anything about it.  I wondered if Mrs.  Miles
had actually talked to her.  I was distracted by a thought that landed in
my brain.

   "So, if she said it was a compliment ...  and it was, by the way ... 
why did you always get mad when I called you that?"

   "I was supposed to get mad." she said simply.  "Boy's are supposed to be
polite and use your real name, not some made up name that when they use
they think about sex."

   "Your mother told you that?" I asked.

   "No, I just knew it." she said.

   In case you didn't know it, girls are full of knowledge that they're
born with and then discover floating around inside their brains from time
to time as they grow up.  Some people call it "women's intuition" but I
like my explanation better.

   "So you didn't like it." I said.

   "No, I loved it.  It made me feel pretty and special." she said.

   I was thoroughly confused now.  "I don't understand.  You loved it, but
you got mad when I used it and thought about you as sexy, right?"

   "No, I got mad at you for not ACTING like I was sexy.  You said it and
it was like you were teasing me, saying I wasn't REALLY sexy and pretty,
but my mother said I was.  But you never asked me out so I thought maybe
she was wrong." It sounded like Donna was as confused as I was.  Now that
I'm older I know we were both confused, and both normal.

   "Well I DO think you're beautiful, and I bet you look just like that
other Donna naked." I have no idea what made me get that forward with her,
but I did.

   "No, I'm not.  There's something wrong with my breasts." she said.

   Naturally I looked at what was hanging off her chest as she said that.
Her suit didn't show much more than a little cleavage.

   "Really?" I asked.  She brought it up, right?

   "If you won't laugh I'll tell you." she said.

   "Of course I won't laugh." I said.

   "I have inverted nipples." she said.

   She may as well have been speaking Latin.  It must have showed on my
face, because she explained it to me.

   "Miss September's breasts had nipples, right?" she asked.

   I nodded.

   "And they stuck out, right?"

   I nodded again.

   "Well mine don't.  They go in, like my belly button."

   I tried to look at her belly button and she actually rolled onto her
side so I could see it.  It was a normal inny looking belly button.  Then I
realized what that must make her breasts look like.

   "Wow." I said.

   "Yeah, the doctor said not to worry about it and that they'll be normal
when I grow up.  I asked him how that would happen and he said that when I
got married everything would be fixed, but he wouldn't explain it.  He said
I might have to wait until I had a baby and then they'd get normal for
sure. But what man is going to want to have a baby with me when my breasts
look deformed?"

   Once in a while, a teenaged boy can think clearly.  It's rare, or so
they tell me, and they say that actual, reliable rational thought isn't
possible until you are in your early twenties, but you can have glimpses of
what that's like in your teens.

   This was such a time.

   I suddenly realized exactly why Donna didn't want me to take her
virginity.  She didn't want me to see her deformed breasts.  The other
girls had, no doubt, talked about how nice it was to have your nipples
sucked, but Donna knew, or thought she knew, that I'd be disgusted by her
inverted nipples.

   "Donna?" I said.

   She looked at me.

   "Would you let me kiss you?" I felt bad for her.  She wanted boys to ask
her out, but was terrified that they would, and would then want to grope
her, like all boys tried to do with all girls.  And if they did, then
they'd find out her secret and be all horrified and tell all the other boys
she was deformed and an alien or something.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "I want to kiss you." I said.  That was true.  This girl had shared
something with me that went beyond our current relationship.  I wanted to
give her something back.

   "Why?" she asked again.

   "All you have to say is 'No' and I won't bother you about it any more."
I said, instead of trying to answer her question.

   "I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you." she said infuriatingly.  "I just
want to know why you want to."

   I got frustrated and told her something no guy should ever tell a girl -
the truth.  "I want to kiss you because I think you'll like it, and then
we'll kiss more, and I hope you'll get turned on and let me take your
bathing suit off and we can fool around." I realized with horror what I'd
just said.  "OK?" I tried to make it sound like I had been joking.

   "You want to see my inverted nipples, don't you?" she suggested.  "You
won't like them.  You'll think they're gross and you'll be disgusted.  Then
I'll be mad at you.  That's why I said I don't want to do all this
virginity stuff."

   "I want to make you feel good." I countered.  "I don't care if your
nipples are inverted or not.  I can make you feel good other ways."

   She thought about it for a long time.  Then she looked at me.  "You have
to promise not to screw me." she said.

   "I wouldn't do that unless you told me to anyway." I said in my own
defense.

   "That's not exactly the way Marge and Suzy told it." said Miss
September.

   That was interesting.  Monique claimed they both said I was gentle and
sweet.  But when they did that Donna apparently heard in that same language
that I almost raped them.

   "Well, I didn't force them or anything." I said.  I did NOT want it
getting around that I forced girls to do ANYTHING.

   "Promise me.  Everybody swears you keep your promises." she said.

   "OK, I promise.  Your virginity is safe with me." I said.  "For today."
I added, grinning.

   She didn't grin though, or even smile.  She sat up and, to my amazement,
took off her bottoms.

   "I didn't even kiss you yet." I objected.  A guy has some pride, you
know, and getting a girl to do things after you kiss her means you overcame
her natural defenses with your suaveness and debonairness, you know?

   "Shall I put them back on?" she asked.  It sounded like she was
completely serious.  I hadn't seen anything yet, because in the process of
taking her bottoms off she'd drawn her knees up to her chest.

   "No!  That's OK." I said.  If she'd have been a few years older she'd
have fallen over laughing.  But she was scared and nervous.

   "Maybe I should just let you screw me." she said.  "Only you can't see
my breasts.  Would you do that?" she asked.

   I knew the answer to this question.  She was trying to trip me up.  It
had been tried by experts.

   "No." I said.  "I promised not to." Hah!  Take that!  Try to mess with
me and you'll lose for sure.

   "But I'm ashamed of them.  I'd really rather let you screw me than let
you see my deformed breasts."

   I began to think she actually meant it.  I had a dribble of gallant in
me, along with all that suaveness and debonairness I depended on so much.
"Look, Donna, I like you and you really do remind me of Miss September, and
I told you I don't care about your nipples.  I just want to kiss you and
fool around a little and make you feel good.  Is that so much to ask?"

   I learned this from girls.  You tell someone you want to do something
that will be fun for YOU, and then make it sound like you're doing it for
THEM, and that if they don't let you do it they're being selfish.  It
reduces guys to puddles of fear and shame.  To my amazement it worked on a
girl too!

   She reached behind her and closed HER eyes and the top of her suit went
slack.  She carefully removed it and lay it on the towel beside her.

   They did look strange.  Weird was not too strong a word.  Her breasts
were nice and round and white looking, but where there should have been
nipples ...  there were sunken in dips.  Those dips were the color of
nipples, but they went in, instead of out.  Imagine a girl made of modeling
clay.  Then you poke her nipple and make a hole in the tip of her breast.
That's what it looked like.  It looked like somebody had poked her and
driven her nipples into her breasts.

   I let some more gallant rise to the surface.  "Would you be mad if I
wanted to be naked too, and hug you while I kiss you?" I asked.

   Her eyes popped open and she looked startled.  I'm sure she was
absolutely convinced that I'd gag, throw up, or scream and run or something
like that.  Instead I kept acting like a horny boy.

   Which I was.  No sex for over two months, remember?

   "Remember ...  you promised." she reminded me.

   I shucked my suit and she craned her head to look.  I got up on my knees
and let her see my mostly hard cock.  Then I stood up and moved my towel
next to hers so I could lie down beside her.  She stared at my cock the
whole time.

   "I can't believe you put that in my friends." she said.

   "Well, believe it." I said, some macho making itself known.

   I used the same little nibbling kisses on Donna that I'd used on Suzy. I
just overpowered her defenses with those little soft kisses.  Pretty soon
she was kissing me back.  She felt good against me.  Even though it was
warm, just the feel of skin against skin is nice and my cock was pressed up
against her hip.

   I trailed some kisses down her neck to her throat and got a little noise
from inside her.  That was a good sign.

   We just made out for probably fifteen minutes.  It was nice, but it made
me hard as a rock.  She could feel it too, pressing against her hip.  I
pulled back a little to see if she would go for more.

   "You know, with some of the others, I kissed them other places."

   "Oh I know all about that." she said.  "They talked about how fantastic
it was and all that."

   "So ...?" I left the question unsaid.

   "I don't know." she said.  Her voice sounded like she was telling the
truth.  She really didn't know whether to let me or not.  I started kissing
her neck again and her head lolled.  When I got to her collar bones and
kissed along them, she let me roll her onto her back.  One hand went to
cover her pubes.

   I kissed down the swell of her breast, getting closer and closer to that
strange ...  wrong ...  nipple.  I had stuck my tongue inside several of
the girls' belly buttons, and they seemed to like that, so when I got to
that inverted nipple I did the same thing.  I stuck my tongue down in that
dip and pressed.

   Donna jerked and her head came up off the ground, her eyes wide.

   "That feels nice!" she said, surprise evident in her voice.

   I had sucked nipples before, but never a whole breast tip.  I tried that
and got enough flesh in my mouth that I was able to play with it a little
bit.  I started with my mouth wide, sucking in the whole tip of the breast
and then let it slowly slide out of my mouth as I pulled off of it.  I was
just playing with her breasts.  I knew that it felt good for a breast to be
played with, and since I couldn't suck the nipples I sucked what I could
get to.

   I was therefore, immensely surprised when, about the third time I did
it, there was a nipple in my mouth when I got to the very tip.  Instead of
a dip, or a hole, there was suddenly a nipple.  I was so surprised that I
opened my mouth and looked.  I was just in time to see that nipple suck
back inside her breast.

   Donna knew something had happened too.  She had laid her head back,
enjoying my play, but now she raised her head again.  "What happened?" she
asked, anxious.

   "What did that feel like?" I asked.  "Right there at the end."

   "I got all tingly and I felt things ...  somewhere else." she said.

   "Where did you feel it?" I asked.

   "I can't tell you.  It's ...  private." she said.

   "Donna, we're naked, in the middle of a hay field and I'm putting my
mouth all over you.  I'm really hoping to put my mouth ALL over you before
we're done.  What could possibly be so private you couldn't tell me about
it?"

   She blushed.  "I felt it in my ...  pussy."

   "Let me try it again and see if we can repeat what happened." I said.

   She lay her head back down.

   I repeated the exercise but my mouth slipped off because her breast was
slippery.  I tried again, sucking harder, and was rewarded by her nipple
popping back out.  This time I kept it out by keeping up the suction.

   Miss September writhed under me.

   "Ohhhh Bobby, what's happening?  That feels so strange."

   I had to let go of the nipple to tell her.  Her head was up again when I
did and she saw it as it slowly sucked back into her breast flesh.

   "I think I un-inverted your nipple." I said.

   "Do the other one." she demanded.

   I did, but that one took longer to get it to come out.  In the end,
though, it did.

   She was ecstatic, and excited, and at least three other active verbs of
an emotional nature, and wanted me to keep going.

   I did, but after a while it began to hurt her, so I quit.  But she was
radiant, smiling and of the opinion that I had done something of major
significance.  When she kissed me this time she meant it, and those kisses
got hot and wet.

   At one point she said "Didn't you say you were going to kiss me in other
places?"

   I took the hint and moved down to her red bush.  Donna's pussy lips were
a little like her inverted nipples.  They were tight and thin and pressed
together hard.  I had to push hard with my tongue to get them to open up.

   But when they did, and her legs relaxed with them, Donna was VERY
appreciative.  I had to pull her pussy lips apart with my fingers to find
her clit, and even it was sunken into its sheath.  Everything about Donna
was work, but in every case, her response to the work it took to get there
was immensely satisfying.

   There was one thing about Donna that wasn't tight and tense and
underdeveloped.  That was her voice when she came.  It built, kind of like
when you hear a cop coming from blocks away, with his siren on, and he gets
closer and closer until he's right there and the siren is beating against
your ears.  She was like that.  I heard her moaning, and the moan got
louder in time with the thrusts she made against my face with her pussy
until she was wailing loud enough I knew somebody would hear and come to
investigate who was being murdered in old Mr.  Jenkins' hay field.  Then
her moans faded away, just like that siren fades as it passes you and the
cop speeds on down the road, away from you.

   Then it was slobbery kisses and Donna didn't put her hip in the way of
my cock any more.  She let it poke wherever it wanted to poke, which,
sometimes, was right into the place where her legs came together.

   We lay there for a while, just being close to each other, with a little
kiss now and then.  Ten minutes later she asked me if I'd do it again.  She
was so appreciative that I didn't mind that my balls were beginning to hurt
a little, so we played what I later called "cops and robbers" again.  She
really did sound like a police siren, and the second time she came I was
entirely glad that we hadn't done this in my bedroom, in the middle of the
night.  My parents would have stampeded into my room armed with ball bats
and golf clubs.

   She was even MORE appreciative after that second orgasm, and told me
she'd changed her mind and that if I wanted her virginity it was mine.

   It almost killed me to decline.  I'd made a promise, and I kept my
promises.

   "No, really, I mean it Bobby." she said, her hand finding my rock hard
cock.

   "I know you do Donna, but you're the one who made me promise."

   "I KNOW I made you promise, but I take it back.  I am making you
un-promise."

   "You can't make me un-promise" I said reasonably.  "A promise is a
promise."

   "But I'm HORNY!" she squealed.

   So I went back down on her and gave her a third orgasm.  During that one
I started jacking off.  If I didn't cum soon I'd explode.

   She felt what I was doing and asked me "Are you masturbating?"

   "Mpfht" I said into her pussy.  It had relaxed a little and now her
pussy lips were darker.  When she came she just got kind of
greasy/slippery. She tasted tangy, but didn't seem to get sopping wet like
some of the others.

   "Wait and I'll do it for you." she groaned.  Then she went back to
warming up her siren.

   The cops chased the robbers by us one last time and I raised up to look
at Miss September, splayed out naked below me.  She was gorgeous, inverted
nipples and all, and I started spanking my monkey furiously.

   She started to sit up.  "I told you ...  let me."

   I held up my other hand.  "This time <pant pant> just let me <pant pant>
next time <pant pant> you can do it."

   I should have asked her if it would be ok if I blew my cork all over
her, but I was too excited.  She was lying there, legs still spread, like
she was waiting for me to fuck her, and she was willing to let me fuck her,
and as that scenario ran through my head my balls coughed and a long line
of hot spunk shot out of the tip of my cock and landed from pussy to
throat.

   She gasped and her eyes got as big as silver dollars, and I laid two
more ropes of silvery spend beside that first one.

   Miss September squealed "OH BOBBY!!" and, instead of getting mad about
it, rubbed that spunk all over her skin, across her inverted nipples, and
up onto her neck, and all around her belly and even between her legs,
though I doubt seriously those tight pussy lips let anything in.

   It took us ten minutes to calm down and then we went swimming again to
clean up.  By then we'd been gone a long time and what with Claire probably
wondering where the hell Donna was, I figured we'd better get back.

   It was on the walk back that Donna told me she'd been in love with me
since she was eleven, and that I'd broken her heart at least three dozen
times, and that every girl in the posse felt exactly the same way.  Except
Claire, of course.

   Little did Donna know.

   She also told me that her virginity was mine, whether I took it later
today or ten years from today.  Then, very seriously, she said that she
couldn't be my girlfriend, because that really would cause problems in the
posse, and that she hoped I understood.

   For once, as I strolled in that minefield, I managed to miss every
single mine.

   Until we got back home, that is.  Claire was sitting on the porch, and
she was pissed.

   CHAPTER SEVEN

   I probably should have felt bad.  It was clear that Claire, when Donna
hadn't come over like she had promised, had been worried about where her
friend was.  The funny thing was that she reacted to seeing us like a
parent does whose kids have been missing.

   "Where the HELL have you two been?" she yelled.  "I was about to call
the POLICE because I thought you must be DEAD!"

   Then she saw our swimming suits, which we were still wearing, and our
clothes bundled up in our towels.

   "You went swimming without me." she said, making it sound like we'd
killed puppies for fun.  She stood up suddenly, facing Donna.  "Did you
...?"

   Donna looked the Sheriff right in the eye and said "I did not.  And it's
none of your business if I DID!"

   Claire started to argue and they went inside.  I could hear their yells
as they argued about whose business it was, and what had we been doing if
we didn't do that and on and on.

   I stayed outside, where it was safe.  It turned out to be a nice sunset,
and the stars were beautiful too.  I could still hear them yelling at each
other as I spotted Orion.

   Donna was different than the other girls in that she didn't accede to
Clair's rule that we could only have one ...  liaison until all of the
girls had done the deed with me.  She rationalized that, since I hadn't
taken her virginity, then she should be allowed to do things with me
whenever we felt like it until such time as I HAD taken her virginity.  She
looked at it as sort of a loophole, I guess.

   As for me, I was pretty sure, based on how tight her opening had been
when I probed it with my tongue, that when she actually DID lose her
virginity, it would be a painful affair.  And, while I wanted to fuck Miss
September in the worst way, I wasn't too sure I wanted her to associate me
with that pain for the rest of her life.

   On the other hand, I loved making her nipples pop out and, over the next
month, we managed to create situations when there was both time and
opportunity for me to suck on her breasts for fifteen or twenty minutes. 
At those times either her hand, or mine, would snake into her pants and rub
her off to an orgasm.  We both made sure there was something around to
muffle her cries of pleasure.  We used, at one time or another, a bed
pillow, couch pillow, my shirt (which didn't work very well), a towel from
the bathroom and, of all things, one of her mother's dresses.  That last
one was in her house, while her parents were gone and she was doing the
laundry because that was one of her chores that day.

   She also decided to learn how to suck my cock, to reward me for the fact
that each time I suckled at her sensitive inverted nipples, they stayed out
a few seconds longer before slowly being sucked back into her breast flesh.


   It happened one day when she came over to see Claire about something,
and Claire wasn't home yet from a dentist appointment.  So we used the
opportunity to play.  At one point she was on her knees, down by my hip,
playing with my hard prick.  She stared at it as she slid her hand up and
down and then her hand stopped in the down position.  She just held that
position and I lifted my head to look at her.  She looked up at me and had
what I could only call a wary look in her eye.

   "Monique talked to me the other day." she said.

   "OK." I said.

   "She wanted to know why it was taking so long for us to ...  you know."

   "Don't worry about it.  We'll get there when the time is right." I said.
Donna had suggested to me several times that I needed to take what was
'mine'.  But I didn't want to rock the boat.  Things had improved between
me and Robby a little bit.  She wasn't so snippy all the time.  I had
gotten the idea that she didn't like me sticking my prick in her friends.
She wouldn't talk about it, but she had begun to talk to me again every so
often.  And even though I wanted to fuck Donna, I was having enough fun
with her that I didn't NEED to fuck her.  Does that make sense?  And I
still didn't know that the other girls wanted to do it with me again, but
couldn't because I hadn't finished my assigned task.  There were still two
cherries on the tree.

   "Just tell them I won't do it to you." I said.

   "I can't tell them that.  They'd want to know why and you won't tell me
and I don't know." she complained.  "I know you say not to worry about it,
but I can't help it.  I WANT you to, and I know you know that, and believe
me I can tell you'd LIKE to" she took time to squeeze my obviously very
erect penis, "but still ...  you won't."

   She had reminded me several times that she had released me from my
promise not to fuck her.  I hadn't told her why I thought she'd hate me if
I did fuck her, because I knew what her reaction would be.  She'd say she'd
never hate me, and that it would be fine and all that, and then it would
hurt bad and she'd bleed or something and hate me anyway.

   I spoke with my most mysterious sounding voice, which I practiced in the
mirror to get just right: "You let me worry about when the time is right."

   "SEE?" she said dismally.  Then "Hey I forgot.  Remember I said Monique
talked to me?"

   "Yeah?" I said.

   "Well she told me what she did ...  to you ...  you know ...  with her
mouth?"

   Wow.  I didn't think Monique would tell anybody about that.  Oral sex
was something you heard about, but only bad kids did that kind of thing.

   "So I thought maybe I could do that to you ...  to sort of pay you back
for making me feel so good." she said.

   I kind of liked that idea.  I thought of myself as a bad boy.

   "OK" I said.

   "Monique made me swear not to tell the others, though, and you can't
either." she said solemnly.

   "OK" I said again.  Shooting my spunk on Donna's belly and between her
legs even was a real gas, but the thought of feeling her mouth on me had me
REALLY going.

   Donna wasn't taking any chances.  She was like that.  She made me make
all kinds of promises to her, and then, just as often, took it all back. 
This time, once I crossed my heart and agreed to let a thousand needles
poke my eye if I broke the promise, she went about achieving perfection in
the mysterious thing called a blow job ...  with gusto.  I personally think
she had as much fun sucking on my stiff dork as I did sucking on those
amazing nipples of hers.  The first dozen or so times, she had to
masturbate me to get me off, but after a few weeks of practice, she learned
some nuances that led to me filling her mouth one day.

   There were three reasons I didn't warn her she was about to taste my
nectar.  First, she had endured having my cum splatter all over her at one
time or another.  We frequented the creek where she had her first orgasm
with my tongue stuck in her and when she got Old Faithful to erupt and it
went all over the place, we simply went into the creek and washed off.  So
I knew that just having my cum touch her didn't bother her.  The second
reason I didn't warn her was that one time when she didn't know I was
looking at her, I saw her dip one finger in the spunk I had spurted on her
and taste it.  I remember holding my breath to see what she would do then.
She looked over at me and I managed to make it look like I was looking in
another direction and ...  she did it again.  So I knew she didn't find the
taste horrible.  And lastly, I was so enthralled with the feelings she was
producing with her mouth, tongue and teeth that I just lay there in a
trance and let it happen.

   When it did, and my cock painted the inside of her mouth and throat, she
gave a strangled little yelp and lifted her mouth off my still spurting
prick.  There were strings of cum hanging from her lips, like she was some
deranged jungle girl with rabies or something, and her eyes were real big
and I couldn't help but laugh.

   While I laughed, Donna was in the process of ...  processing.  She
processed the texture, and the taste, and what it was, and the fact that I
was laughing at her, and she flopped down on top of me and rubbed her
spermy lips all over my face, trying to kiss me while I tried not to let
her kiss me.  She finally quit and pushed up off of me, licking and
smacking her lips.  I heard her swallow once too.

   "THERE!" she yelled at me.  "How does THAT taste you stupid boy?"

   I laughed again, only a little uncomfortable that my sperm was smeared
all over my face and lips, but she was so beautiful naked and wild-eyed
that I just loved being around her.

   "Actually, you don't taste so awful." she commented, wiping her mouth
with her fingers.  She looked at them for a minute and then sucked them
into her mouth.  Then she looked down at Mr.  Happy, who was taking a nap
in a puddle of spunk, and she went down there and licked all around him
before sucking him back into her mouth to clean him off.

   It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that resulted in her
drinking my cum on a more or less regular basis.

   The rest of the girls groused about how much time Donna and I spent
together.  They thought she was taking entirely too long to get her cherry
picked.  Claire talked to me about it more than once, and I told her there
were "issues" that we were working on.  I finally suggested that maybe I
should just rape Donna, if that would make Claire and the girls happy. 
Claire shut up about it after that.

   The only girl who never said anything to me about hurrying up and
getting the job done was Robby.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to
figure out she wasn't much interested in what I had hanging between my
legs, Donna's claim that they all had been in love with me for years
notwithstanding.  I figured that was all just girl talk.  Puppy love. 
Wanting to fit in.  That sort of thing.

   Well, now that I think about it, I'd have to say Robby didn't say
anything up to a point.  I had routinely been astonished by these girls,
and one or two of their mothers too, so I should have been braced for the
unknown when Miss September skipped up to me one day and said "Wanna go
swimming?"

   Don't misunderstand me.  Donna had done that a lot.  She liked that
swimming spot and so far at least, we had kept it more or less a secret
what went on there.  Or so I thought.  I should have known better.  They
were one for all and all for one, after all.  So her invitation didn't
surprise me and, in my own defense, it shouldn't have.  It was what she
said next that blew me away.

   "Can Roberta come?  She wants to see what we do."

   Claire hadn't warned me about this at all.  Apparently the Sheriff
wasn't in as much control of her posse as she thought.  I had been
"punished" (no sex with Claire for as long as she could take it) for going
swimming with Donna ...  without Claire ...  who had wanted to watch as I
seduced her friend.  I think Claire looked at it like we just needed a
little friendly help to get the deed done.  But, Donna had said she would
have been creeped out if Claire watched.  Yet, now, for some reason that
was probably completely unfathomable to a boy, she didn't mind if Robby
watched us get it on.

   The first thing I thought of was her secret.  "But ...  she'll see your
nipples." I said.

   She looked at me like I was from the county nut farm.  "Silly, she
already knows about THAT.  She wants to see something ELSE."

   "Claire doesn't know about this, does she." I stated.  It wasn't a
question, but I wanted confirmation.

   "Claire doesn't have to know everything." said Donna, unconcerned.  Yes,
there was definitely rebellion brewing in the ranks.  I started to complain
that the last time we'd done something contrary to what Claire wanted, I'd
been punished.  But to do that I'd have to admit what the punishment was,
and they didn't know about me and Claire.  So I kept quiet.

   Guys do that a lot.  When there is danger that the truth might bring
unhappiness, we keep our mouths shut.  Say for instance you run over
something with your father's prize car and it pokes a hole in the tire. 
It's not a really BAD hole, but the air leaks out slowly.  So, instead of
fessing up that you took the car behind the abandoned gas station to make
out, where there are all these boards with nails in them lying around on
the ground, you just keep filling the tire up with air, hoping, somehow
that it will magically fix itself.  Then, while the family is on the way to
Uncle John and Aunt Melba's house, the tire fails and you're stuck out in
the middle of nowhere in a hundred and ten degree temperatures with cranky
parents who know they didn't run over anything to make the tire go flat.

   That's probably not the best example of what happens when we guys SHOULD
fess up and take the heat, but opt to cut and run instead.  But it's the
best one I could think up on the spot, so there you go.

   My emotions at that moment were a little roiled.  Robby had been acting
very, very cool toward me for the last few months.  If all this cherry
popping had a down side, it was that it seemed to drive my one real female
friend away from me.  And now this.  I didn't know how to react to it.  But
what was I supposed to say to Donna?  Or to Robby for that matter?

   "Are you sure she wants to come with us?" I finally asked.  "I didn't
think she wanted anything to do with me any more."

   Donna had this way of looking at you like you were a bug under a
microscope.  It was very unnerving.  She looked at me like that now.

   "How do you THINK she should feel?  You haven't paid any attention to
her for months." Donna could talk like she could look.

   "Well ..." I drew it out.  "It always seems like she was mad at me or
something."

   "Boys are so stupid sometimes." said Donna to her invisible friend. 
Then she took that tone that women use when they talk to little boys,
explaining things to them.  "You remember how it hurt my feelings that you
never asked me out?"

   "Yeah." I said.

   "Well Roberta has NEVER been asked out ...  by ANYBODY."

   Of course she was never asked out.  She was Knobby Robby.  She played
football with us guys and beat us at races, and went fishing with us once
in a while.  She just wasn't the sort of girl that guys asked out.  I had
another flash of intelligence at that moment and thought it would be a VERY
bad idea to say what I had just thought.

   "Maybe that's because she's so young." I offered.

   "She's the same age as the rest of us you ninny!" Donna said.  "I
thought we already HAD this conversation.  No, the reason nobody - she
looked pointedly at me - asks her out is because she just doesn't have big
breasts or wear makeup or try to make herself look sexy for stupid boys!"

   Donna was very logical, something I liked sometimes ...  and hated at
other times ...  at least in her.

   "OK!  Fine!" I said.  I was getting just a tad bit surly about all this
stuff I was supposed to figure out without any real clues.

   So I went and got my suit and promptly got caught by Claire, who saw me
with the towel roll and wanted to know who I was going swimming with.

   By this time I was tired of trying to play politics.  "Donna and
Roberta" I said, uncharacteristically using their real names.

   My sister's mouth tightened into a firm line.  "I'm going too." she
said.

   I looked to make sure no adults were around and then said "OK, but we're
all going to get naked and frolic in the grass like little elves."

   She shot me a look filled with broken bits of glass and old rusty razor
blades, but she actually RAN to her room to get her stuff so I couldn't
leave her behind.

   When I came out of the house and Donna was standing there waiting,
Claire was right behind me.  She looked down her nose at Donna.  "Nice of
you to invite ME." she huffed.

   Donna got her own back up.  "Well, if you weren't always trying to boss
me around I might invite you more often."

   So I walked between them on the way over to Robby's house.

   When we got there Roberta's mother was out in the garden.  We had come
through the alley and, as we entered the back gate we chorused "Hi Mrs. 
Simms." she stood up and put one hand in her back, like it ached and shaded
her eyes with her other hand.  She was a larger version of her daughter,
thin and spare, with a flat chest and chestnut hair.  She was the best cook
in town and raised a lot of food in their garden that she canned in the
fall.

   "Hi kids." she said.  "Swimming, eh?  Roberta's in the house.  You all
be careful now."

   We three chorused "We will.  Thank you." We had manners that we used
sparingly, mostly around each other's parents.

   Roberta was in the dining room, putting a picture puzzle together, of
all things.  I always thought of her as an active person, never standing
still for long.  I knew she was a big fan of Nancy Drew, so she sat and
read, but that's the only relaxed picture I could ever conjure up of her in
my mind.  She looked up at the three of us and then fixed her eyes on
Donna.

   Donna threw up her hands.  "She invited herself!"

   That got Claire going again.  "I thought we were FRIENDS!" she squealed.
Her eyes started to fill up with tears.

   Donna looked shocked, somehow.  "Well we ARE friends Claire Bear, but
what are we supposed to be able to do if you're there?  He's your BROTHER,
for pity's sake."

   I learned two more things in that simple interchange.  I learned that
Claire could make major social mistakes.  She had forgotten that the girls
would naturally assume she had an aversion to seeing her brother not only
naked, but engaging in sex play with her friends.

   And, I learned that they called each other by the nicknames I had given
them ...  that they purported to hate.  At least one of them did, and the
ease with which she'd used that name suggested it wasn't uncommon.

   I spoke up.  "She's seen me naked all her life." I said.  I turned to
Claire and addressed her as if I were giving her information she couldn't
possibly know already.  "We sometimes skinny dip down at the creek."

   Claire turned beet red as she realized what had happened.  Belatedly she
tried to ride my coat tails.  "That's right.  I've seen him without clothes
lots of times."

   That took care of the skinny dipping issue, but not what else was
supposed to go on.

   Donna's pragmatic nature just flowed out of her.  "Well, wouldn't it
seem pretty ...  icky to you to see him ...  you know ...  do things to
us?"

   That was when I learned that Robby expected me to "do" something with
her while we were swimming.  This standing there, forgotten, was paying off
handsomely.

   "I never said he could do anything to me!" yipped Roberta.

   So much for getting decent information by eavesdropping.

   Claire was fast on her feet, I'll give her that.  "Well, I saw what he
did to Marge.  You know, when she showed us?  And that wasn't so horrible."
she said.  "And I've heard all about it from each one too.  Besides, it was
my idea in the first place."

   Donna still looked somewhat shocked.  "OK, but you have to promise not
to butt in.  Bobby and I already know what we like, and I don't want anyone
to mess that up."

   My, my.  Donna was getting downright assertive.

   Knobby Robby said "Yeah, me too." which didn't make any sense at all. 
Hadn't she just said she didn't want me doing anything to her anyway?  I
stared at her and she noticed.  "What are YOU looking at?" she stuck out
her chin.

   I called on suave and debonair.  "I'm looking at a beautiful young
woman, in the blush of health and vitality." I'd heard that on a commercial
somewhere and had been waiting for a chance to use that line.

   Robby scowled.  "You are just so full of it.  I don't think I'll let you
touch me after all."

   For some reason I'll never understand, I wanted to kiss Knobby Robby
right then.  I wanted to kiss her on the lips and just melt her into a
puddle.  I stepped toward her.  There must have been something in my eyes,
because Robby's eyes got real big and she put her hands up in front of her
and stepped back.

   "Don't you touch me you ...  you ...  you TURD!"

   That was the Robby I knew and loved.  I not only touched her, I tackled
her, knocking her backwards onto a big overstuffed chair that was nearby.
My fingers went to her sides and I tickled her as she squirmed and squealed
and then, to my immense satisfaction, laughed.  Her knee started kicking at
me, trying to find my balls.  That wasn't unusual.  Whenever Robby
wrestled, she used every dirty trick in the book.

   So I used one tool I grabbed her flat little breasts and gave them a
squeeze.

   You'd have thought I used a cattle prod on her.  She went rigid and her
face strained into a mask of half confusion, half surprise and half
over-joyedness, if there is such a word.  While she was frozen I kissed her
on the lips.  It wasn't a good kiss.  It wasn't even a reciprocal kiss. 
But I got my lips on at least one of hers, enough that she knew it was
supposed to BE a kiss.

   Then I stood up and stepped back.  "How's THAT for being full of it?"

   I was all proud of myself in a caveman kind of way.  Until Donna whacked
me in the back of the head with her sneaker, which she'd taken off when I
first attacked Robby.  She hit me hard too.

   "YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" she yelled at me.  Claire was moving toward me
too, and I was too busy ducking another swing of Donna's to be able to tell
whether or not she actually posed a threat.  I rolled down to the floor,
trying to get away and ran into Robby's foot.  I realized she was standing
over me, one foot on either side of me.  She had stood up when I went to
the floor and stepped over me.

   "STOP!" she yelled.

   Everybody stopped.  It was awfully quiet.

   "He wasn't hurting me." said Robby.  Wonder of wonders ...  she was
actually coming to my rescue!

   "Well it looked like it to me." said Donna.

   "Bobby!  You're such an ass hole!" That was Claire.  She almost never
used language that bad.

   "I SAID he wasn't hurting me." said Roberta Simms, who had suddenly
gotten pretty assertive herself somehow.  "This is between me and Bobby. 
You two butt OUT!" she commanded.

   And damned if they didn't simmer down.  Roberta stepped over me and
turned around and stepped over me again, so she could bend over and look at
me.  She was still straddling me, or I should say straddling me again.  She
had on shorts, and, if you were Roberta, that meant they were loose.  I
happened to glance up the leg of her shorts.

   "What are YOU looking at?" she growled.  She could deliver that line
perfectly.

   "You." I said.

   Then she sat down on my stomach.  She sat down hard enough to make me go
"Oooff".

   She leaned down until her face was right in front of mine, her hands on
my shoulders.  "I might let you touch me after all." she said softly.

   How about that?  Knobby Robby reacted well to the caveman treatment!  I
never would have believed it.  Then she stood up and stepped back over me,
leaving me lying on the floor.

   "So, are we going swimming or not?" she asked Donna and Claire.  Both of
them were staring at her like she had two heads or something.

   Donna jerked her head.  "Yes." she said.

   Robby looked at Claire.  "How about you?  You up for seeing your brother
do terrible things to innocent girls?"

   Claire took a breath.  "I might watch just a little of it.  When I'm not
swimming." She tried to sound bored, but her cheeks were pink and everybody
knew it.

   Twenty minutes later I was at old Mr.  Hawkins' hay field again, this
time with THREE girls.  I knew what to expect from one of them.  As far as
the other two, I had no idea.

   It was surprisingly routine in an astonishing way.  When we got there we
all rolled out our towels, Donna putting hers right beside mine.  Then she
started stripping down to change into her swimming suit like she was in a
cabana somewhere and everybody else couldn't see her get naked.  I guess
she had decided that, if the other two weren't making any objections, she
was just going to act like they weren't there.

   Robby and Claire stood there uncertainly and something perverse made me
act like Donna.  I pulled off my shirt and then undid my shorts and let
them drop.  I kicked off my Keds, which I had worn without socks, and,
after dropping my shirt on the towel, bent over to push my underwear down.

   I was about half hard, from seeing Miss September's skin beginning to
appear, and it was kind of exciting, for some odd reason, to be getting
naked in front of Robby too.  I discounted Claire, because there was no way
she was going to do anything with me with the other two girls there.

   Robby was staring, her eyes riveted to my cock, but I couldn't tell
whether she was repelled or attracted to what she saw.  Her mouth was open,
but it could have been either shock or interest that caused that.

   Donna put her suit on, so I did too, even though I'd have rathered that
we skinny dipped.  But it was possible for other people to show up at the
hay field, though no one ever had since Donna and I had been going there.
Then Donna grabbed my hand and pulled me to the water.

   It was high summer now, and hot, and the water felt good.  I didn't even
mind the mud between my toes.  Donna tried to climb up on me and dunk me
and she was giggling and laughing, but I wrestled her into a kiss instead
of playing around.  It was a nice kiss and soon she was pressing her body
up against mine and rubbing her pussy up against the lump in my swimming
suit.  She had just started doing that lately, and I loved it because that
suggested that she wasn't afraid of me any more.  Her statement that her
virginity was mine whenever I wanted it rang hollow after I made her
compare the thickness of my finger, which HAD been in her pussy, to my
cock, which had not.  I could tell in little flinches and a certain
stiffness in her body whenever my groin touched hers.  But that had faded
and now she liked being in full contact with me.  Maybe she had been
working on stretching herself like we'd talked about.

   This is hard to explain, but, once I'd decided NOT to pick Donna's
cherry, it made our sexual play MORE fun and LESS nervous, at least from my
point of view.  It was kind of like we weren't playing baseball any more,
so I didn't have to make it to home plate.  Instead, we were just hitting
pop flies to each other, or playing catch and we could just enjoy what was
happening without there being any winners or losers.  Donna, of course,
didn't know I'd decided it would be too traumatic for her if I stuffed my
rock hard cock up in her tight little pussy and spurted her full of baby
makers.  So her attitude about it was different.  She occasionally asked me
why I hadn't "made her a woman" yet.

   She did it now.

   "Bobby," she said between kisses.  "When are you going to let me feel
what it's like to have a penis inside me?

   "Are you in a hurry or something?" I asked.

   "No, but I just know it will feel really nice."

   Girls loved to lie to themselves about sex.  They always believed that
bells would ring and the sun would shine and they'd float off to some
wonderful place the first time they let a man into them.

   What I remembered about each of the girls whose virginity I'd destroyed
was that "OWWWW" that inevitably came tearing our of their mouths.  True,
they got over it, but Donna was so much tighter than any of the others that
I was really worried about that.

   "Be patient." I said.  "It's going to hurt the first time.  Trust me on
that.  Didn't the other girls tell you about the pain?"

   "Well, it was mentioned, but not like it was any big deal." she said,
kissing me again.

   That's another thing that happens to women.  They somehow forget about
the pain.  When I grew up I learned that there are chemicals released in
the brain that actually make women forget the actual pain of childbirth
after it's all over.  That's why women have children again.  If they could
remember what I've witnessed on several occasions, they wouldn't let a man
near them again for all the tea in China.

   I kissed her back.  "Donna, the last thing I want you to remember about
me is that you hated the first time you had real sex."

   "You're sweet." she said.  "I want you to lick my pussy now."

   "Now?" I asked.  "In front of Robby and Claire?"

   "Roberta asked to watch." she said.  "Claire invited herself, so she'll
just have to deal with it."

   Robby chose that moment to wade up next to us.  I hadn't watched as she
put on her swimming suit, but only because I had been kissing Donna and
that took all my attention.

   "What are you guys doing?" asked Robby.

   "I'm getting ready to get my pussy licked." said Donna in the same tone
of voice she might have used to say "I'm getting ready to buy that cute
little frock over there."

   I turned to Robby.  "Are you sure you want to watch this?"

   She stuck out her jaw again and clouded up.  I remembered what Donna had
said about nobody EVER asking Robby out on a date.  I cut her off before
she could say something that would spoil the mood.  "OK, OK, but if you
watch I'm going to want to do it to you too.  You turn me on Robby."

   Her reaction ...  and Donna's was satisfying.  Robby blushed and her
mouth opened again, but I could see in her eyes that she wasn't horrified
or offended or anything like that.  She was actually pleased.  Donna
slapped me without any real malice and said "You are so crude Bobby
Watkins."

   I said "What?  She's getting ready to watch two people get naked and
have some fun and I'm the one who's suddenly crude?"

   Claire waded up about then.  "Who's being crude?  As if I didn't know?"

   I turned to her and said "I'm getting ready to lick Donna's pussy.  I
told Robby I might want to lick hers too.  How about you?  I'm having a
three-for-the-price-of-one sale today."

   That ruined the sexual mood, because I was suddenly being splashed by
three girls who shrieked about what a pervert I was, and how terrible I was
and all that.  I ducked under the water and started groping for swim suit
bottoms, trying to pull them down.  I got my hands on a lot of flesh, and
almost got a knee in my face.  I never got any bottoms pulled down much,
but it caused a stampede and I was able to surface and breathe again.  I
started chasing girls around in the water, grabbing for breasts and
growling and stuff.  I even chased Claire, who tried even harder than the
others to get away from me.

   Robby tried to stay and fight at one point but I put my arms around her
and squeezed hers against her body.  She couldn't do anything except look
at me wide eyed as I squeezed her buttocks and pulled her lower body
against mine.

   "You're playing with the big boys now." I said to her face, only a
couple of inches from mine.  "I told you you turn me on and I meant it. 
I'm going to kiss you again." I warned her.

   And damned if she didn't let me!

   I gave her a thirty second smooch and, though she kept her lips tightly
closed, she pushed her face back at me.  I loosened my grip during that
kiss, but all she did was bring her hands to my waist and hold on.

   When it was over she had a look in her eye I hadn't seen in there
before.

   "That wasn't so bad I suppose." she said.

   Then her hand slipped down between my legs and she grabbed a handful of
my manhood and she squeezed.  "But don't try to take my suit off again."
She squeezed a little harder and then put her leg behind mine and pushed
with both her hands on my chest, knocking me backward in the water.  she
was laughing as I let myself go under.

   I stood back up and started wading toward shore.  Donna and Claire had
their heads together, like they were planning something, or had been
watching me kiss Robby and were talking about it.  I went up on the grass
and then over to my towel, where I lay down in the hot sun.

   "I'm all lonely over here!" I yelled out to nobody in particular.

   Donna and Claire came out of the water together.  Robby lingered,
playing with the water, making a fist and closing it to make the water
squirt upward into the air.  I think she was a little nervous.

   Claire laid down on her towel on her back, sun tanning, and Donna laid
down on top of me for some long, hot kisses.  I rubbed her still-wet back
and slid my hands into her bottoms, playing with her butt cheeks.  We just
let things progress more or less naturally.  I undid her top at one point
and started getting her nipples to pop out.  I saw Robby sit down on her
towel out of the corner of my eye, but didn't look at her.  Donna started
making appreciative sounds.  She had learned that, once her nipples stuck
out, she could squeeze just below one when I switched to another and it
would stay out.  This time when I switched and she did that, I grasped the
first nipple between my thumb and fingers and pulled on it gently.

   "Oooo not so hard." she murmured.  "It's sensitive."

   So I switched to just holding it firmly enough to keep it out.  But then
I wanted to feel her pussy, so eventually I let go of the nipple and slid
my hand down to her bottoms again.  I heard a gasp from Robby as I slid my
hand into the front of Donna's suit and her legs popped wide open, giving
me room to play.  She was wet, and it was slippery wet, not water wet.  I
wormed my middle finger into her.  That was something I'd been doing a lot,
sort of half-heartedly trying to stretch her out a little.  She was still
tight, but my finger went into her pretty easily now, and she loved it when
I hooked that finger and pulled up, mashing her clitty.  Her hips came up
off the ground and she moaned into my mouth.

   I added another finger to stretch her some more and started sawing those
fingers in and out of her rapidly, trying to bring her off and she got more
violent in her gyrations.  Then her head went up, stretching her neck, and
mouth pulled into a grimace and I knew it was about to happen.  Sure enough
she started making coyote sounds that got louder and louder until she was
wailing.

   I felt hands beating on my naked back.  Robby screamed "STOP IT!  YOU'RE
HURTING HER!"

   I started to pull my hand out of Donna's swim suit and one of her hands
slapped on top to hold me there.  Her legs came together too.

   "NO!" she gasped.  Her head turned toward Robby and she said "He's not
hurting me Robby.  It feels WONDERFUL!"

   "Oh" said Robby, settling back onto her towel.

   For some reason we all looked over at Claire, who was up on her side,
supporting herself with one elbow, watching.  As soon as she saw us looking
at her though, she rolled back onto her back.  Like she could make it look
like she hadn't been watching.  "I knew that." she said to the sky.

   "Oh really?" asked Robby.  "It sounded like he was killing her to me. 
So how did YOU know it was OK?"

   Claire waved one hand.  "I've made those sounds myself, lots of times."

   "OH REALLY?" said Robby, her voice getting louder.  "Well maybe you can
explain that to me.  You said you got your cherry popped.  OK, so WHEN WERE
ALL THESE OTHER TIMES YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?!" she shouted.

   Oh boy.  Claire had really stepped in it this time.  She was going to
have to learn to think before she rattled off such interesting information.


   She waved her hand again in the air, somewhat vaguely.  "Oh ...  you
know ...  when I masturbate."

   I could tell she was rattled.  She had just admitted to masturbating
casually, something girls just didn't do back then.  I guess it was all she
could come up with on the spur of the moment.

   "Don't STOP." said Donna suddenly, dragging out the last word in a
complaining tone of voice.  I realized my hand was lying between her legs
limply.

   "How 'bout I use something else?" I asked, licking her lips.

   "Ohhhh yessss, I'm ready." she whined.  I rolled away from her and she
started shimmying out of her bottoms.

   I spared a glance at Robby and her mouth was open again.  She was
leaning forward and she looked pinker than the sun should have been able to
account for.  I grinned at her and crawled between Donna's legs.  She drew
her knees up toward her chest, lifting her feet off the ground and let them
fall apart, baring her pussy completely.  I leaned in and gave her pussy a
long lick from bottom to top.

   "Ohhhh yes Bobby, I just LOVE that." she cooed.

   I didn't have to press my face so hard into her sex to get her lips
pried open now, and then I lapped and tickled her clit with my tongue.  I
slid two fingers into her pussy and started moving them in and out of her
and she started to wind up.  She'd have made a pretty good air raid siren
and, once again, I was glad we were out where nobody could hear us, or at
least if they did they'd just assume it was some kids playing some game. 
Donna slammed her heels into the ground and shoved her pussy up into my
face as she came.  She pushed so hard that only her heels and the back of
her neck were touching the towel.  I cupped her buttocks and just mooshed
my face all around in her pussy.  I was having a great time and so was she.

   When Donna finally went limp I rose to my knees, sitting back on my
calves.  I looked over at Robby who was breathing almost as hard as Donna
was.  She was stock still, like she had been frozen, but as I looked at her
I saw her blink.  I looked past her at Claire, she was on her side again,
her hand inside her own swimsuit bottoms.

   Donna rolled her head and saw the same thing.  "CLAIRE!" she gasped.

   Claire was past caring.  She must have been close, because she huffed "I
don't care." and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs.  Her hand went
into overdrive and her hips bucked as she came.  I saw Robby turn and look
at Claire, and then she turned back to look at me.

   "You want to go back in?" I asked her.  We both knew I meant the water.
She nodded uncertainly and I stood up.  The front of my suit was tented out
where my erection pushed the wet fabric away from my body, but I didn't do
anything about it.  It was right in front of Robby's face as I held out my
hand to pull her up.

   Like she was in a trance Robby took my hand and I pulled.  She unfolded
and stood up, swaying a little.  I kept her hand in mine and pulled her
toward the water.  She didn't pull away from me at all and I led her out
until the water was at her chest.

   "You OK?" I asked.

   Her head turned and she looked at me.  She still didn't say anything. 
Her breathing had slowed a little.  I splashed water up onto my face,
rubbing Donna's slippery juice off.

   Robby finally said something.  "Would you do that to me?" she asked.

   "Now?" I asked back.

   "No, I mean would you actually DO that ...  with me ...  if I wanted you
to?" She clarified her question.

   "Absolutely." I said.  "I'd love it.  But only if you wanted me to." I
was still holding her hand.  "DO you want me to?" I asked.

   "I don't know." she said softly.  "I don't know ..." she repeated. 
"That was very strange, Bobby." She looked up on the grass where Donna was
lying spread eagled, still naked, just soaking up the sun.  Claire still
had her hand in her bottoms, but it wasn't moving very much.

   I just looked at Robby for a while, waiting for her to say something
else.  Finally I asked: "If I asked you to kiss me ...  you know a real
kiss ...  would you do it?"

   Her head went up a little as she looked in my eyes.  "Yes."

   "Would you kiss me please?" I asked.

   Time slowed as Knobby Robby's angular face came toward mine, her eyes
drifting closed, and her lips pursing to meet mine.

   She didn't put her arms around me.  In fact, it seemed like she didn't
know what to do with her hands.  But she lifted her face to mine and I
touched my lips to hers.  Without our arms around each other, and in the
water, it was hard to press with any force, so I opted for loose lips that
I knew would feel spongy to hers.  She was tight lipped at first, but as
the kiss went on her lips finally relaxed a little.

   I pulled back.

   She looked at me again.  "That was nice Bobby." she said.

   "You feel like making out a little?" I asked.

   "I don't know how." she said.

   "I'll teach you if you want." I responded.

   "OK." she said simply.

   I had to pull her out of the water just like I had led her into it.  She
wasn't the wired up and active Knobby Robby I knew so well.  I knew she
must be either thinking furiously, or that her senses were overwhelmed with
her feelings.  For that reason I thought it would be a good idea to just go
slow and make sure Robby had a nice time.

   CHAPTER EIGHT

   It occurred to me when we got to the towels that I had a little problem.
I knew instinctively that Robby would be uncomfortable getting naked with
me.  I suddenly thought that maybe if we were naked in the water, it might
be easier for her, and right about then Donna got up from her towel,
heading for the creek.  She acted like we weren't there.

   I turned and faced Robby.  "You want to skinny dip?" I asked her.

   "I thought you were going to teach me to make out." she said, a little
complaint in her voice.

   "We can do that while we are skinny dipping." I explained.

   "Oh ...  OK." she said.

   She stood there, not moving.

   "We have to take our suits off to skinny dip" I said.  Like I told you
before, I was a master of pointing out the obvious.

   I bent over and took my trunks off, exposing my penis to Robby for the
second time in her life.  I stood back up and she was still standing there,
frozen.

   "You want me to help you?" I asked ...  helpfully.

   Robby licked her lips.  Now she stared right at me.  Her mouth opened
and closed.

   It was time for my routine "I won't hurt you" speech, which had put so
many girls at ease before this.  I was pretty accomplished at it by now.

   "Look Robby," I said.  "You don't have to worry about anything.  I'm not
going to hurt you." I got ready to tell her all about how she would be in
control, and that I'd only do what she wanted me to do and all that stuff.
But I never got the chance.

   "Of COURSE you're not going to hurt me!" she broke in.  "If you do I'll
break your arm." she said heatedly.  The steel was back in her eye.  This
was the Robby I knew.

   And, just like that, she whipped off her suit, as if we skinny dipped
every day and I'd seen her naked a thousand times.

   She looked at me and said "So?" I think she was waiting for me to laugh
at her.  And then that perfect line: "What are YOU looking at?"

   Robby was different from the other girls for more reasons than that she
was athletic and a tomboy.  She wasn't beautiful in the usual sense.  Her
face was angular and long.  It had the same thin appearance that the rest
of her body had, with little flesh to cover her knobby knees and elbows. 
But as I looked at her body I could see where her feminine side was trying
to grow in.  Her hips had some swell to them that I'd never noticed before
and her breasts looked smaller than they actually were because she was
broad shouldered and wide in the chest too.  As she stood there, letting me
look and waiting for me to call her flat-chested or be as cruel as other
boys were to her, I realized that, in a few years, she was going to be
highly sought after by the opposite sex.

   I thought she was cute.  But what do you say to your pal of many years
when you see her sexually for the first time?  I mean this was a buddy who
you climbed trees with, and ran races against, and stared at the clouds,
picking out elephants and volcanoes and Superman in their shapes.

   What came out of my mouth was: "If I didn't already have a boner you'd
give me one Robby."

   I know, I know, it wasn't poetic or romantic or any of that stuff.  But
Robby and I had never used romantic speech around each other.  And the look
on her face as it bloomed into a tentative smile made my heart soar.  Of
all the girls, even including Claire, Robby was the one I wanted to please
the most.  I didn't stop to try to figure out why.  Maybe she just deserved
it more or something.  And I knew it had been the hardest thing she'd ever
done to get naked in front of me.

   "You're so full of shit." she said.  Then she put her hands on her hips
and suddenly she WAS sexy!

   "No I'm not.  You have a lot of sexy attributes" I said.

   "Oh yeah?  Like what?" she said.

   I saw Claire lean towards us, like she was interested in what I was
going to say.  Donna was in the creek, wading around.

   "Well, OK," I started.  "Your nipples look soft and big, like they'd fit
in my mouth just perfect."

   What I was talking about was that she had cone shaped breasts with puffy
nipples.  Actually her areolas and nipples kind of meshed together, like
the nipple hadn't fully formed yet or something.  It gave the effect that
her areolas WERE her nipples, and they were bigger around than a quarter.

   "And, your hair is so light that I can see your pussy lips.  That's
sexy." I claimed.  "And the way you're standing right now, with your hands
on your hips and one leg kind of out to the side.  It cocks your hips a
little bit and makes them look round, like they'd make a good place to put
my hands when I kiss you." I was on a roll now.

   She was still standing there listening, and the fact she hadn't thrown
anything at me suggested she wasn't at all unhappy so far.

   "And your stomach is so flat." I finished.

   "What does a flat stomach have to do with looking sexy?" she asked.

   "It makes me want to see what it would look like if you were pregnant."
I said.

   I said that without even thinking about it.  In fact I was astonished
that I'd said that at all.  I'd never even thought about why I thought flat
stomachs were sexy.  I had one other thing to say, and, since I had blurted
out so much, I let that go too.

   "And you're ...  Robby.  I like Robby, and that makes her sexy." I could
feel my hardon getting soft.  I wasn't feeling so sexy myself.

   "It makes me feel funny inside when you say that." she said.

   I felt stupid standing there, talking to a naked girl.  I sat down on my
towel and motioned for her to take Donna's, which was now empty.  She sat
too.

   "I know some ways to make you feel even funnier." I offered.

   "I masturbate." she said.

   I think I blinked from the surprise.  I didn't know why she said that.
It was a strange thing to just pop up in conversation.  But then again, I'd
just told her how wonderful I thought her nipples and pussy lips were, so
maybe it wasn't such a stretch after all.

   "Me too." I said.  I didn't know what else to say.  It was really
different talking to Robby about sex.  We'd talked about all kinds of other
things, some quite serious, but never sex.

   "I mean I don't have my maidenhead." she added.  I thought it was kind
of cool that she used such a formal name for her virginity.  Robby wasn't
usually very formal.

   I suddenly realized that Robby was telling me she was a sexual being. 
It was a leap so far from what I was used to that I almost didn't recognize
the importance of what she'd just said.  When I did I lay down on my side.
I think my devious mind was trying to get her prone, and me prone, so we
could be prone and naked at the same time.  Baby steps.  You know?

   "I can't believe I didn't figure that out." I said.  "How long have you
been doing it?"

   "Since I was ten." she said simply.

   "Wow." I said.  I was impressed.  I thought I knew her so well, and it
turned out I didn't.  So I confided something secret about me.  "I didn't
start doing it until I was almost thirteen."

   "Boys are slow." she said, like it was a simple fact that everyone
knows, but which needs to be pointed out occasionally.

   I decided not to argue with her about it.  She hadn't taken the hint and
gone prone either.  I tried plan B.

   "So do you want to go swimming?" I reminded her of why she'd taken her
suit off.

   "No." she said.

   "But I thought ..." I started to point out that skinny dipping was what
she'd agreed to do, but she cut me off.

   "Now that I'm naked it's not so bad.  I think I just needed an excuse to
get naked." she said.

   "So ...  what do you want to do?" I asked.  I was still lying on the
towel, on my side, my head propped up.

   "I think I want to kiss you." she said.

   "You THINK?" I asked.

   "This is all very strange Bobby.  I've never talked to a boy who wanted
to make me pregnant."

   "Hold on now Robby.  I never said I WANTED to make you pregnant.  I said
I wondered what you'd LOOK LIKE pregnant." I realized that sounded kind of
cold.  I tried to warm it up a little.  "I mean I think you'd look really
sexy pregnant."

   "Do you want to kiss me or not?" she asked.  Her voice sounded so much
like the Robby I knew, and who asked me questions that ended in 'or not?'
fairly often, that the whole scene just seemed ludicrous somehow.

   But I DID want to kiss her, so I didn't laugh.

   "Yes ...  I do." I said.

   Robby got up on all fours and crawled over beside me.  She moved her
head over mine as I rolled to my back.  Then she let herself down until her
lips touched mine.

   Our kiss in the water had been mostly me, kissing her.  Now I just lay
there and let her kiss me.  It was plain from the beginning that she wasn't
experienced, but WAS motivated.  She'd seen people French kissing, or heard
about it.  You didn't see that in movies back then.  She started
tentatively, but then opened her mouth just enough to flick her tongue out
against my teeth.  I let my tongue touch hers, tip to tip.  She pressed
harder against me immediately and her mouth opened up wider and in no time
flat Knobby Robby seemed intent on shoving her tongue clear down my throat.

   What Roberta lacked in experience she more than made up for in
enthusiasm.  Once we had crossed the kissing barrier she slowly edged over
me until her chest was on my chest, her cone shaped amazingly soft breasts
pressing hotly against me.  I'd been lying in the sun, but her breasts felt
hotter than even that.  And she rubbed them across my chest, one hand
moving across my body so she could support herself as she did that.  It was
tender and soft and my cock was suddenly iron hard again.

   I finally moved my hands to her face and used them to teach her how to
accept those little nipping kisses I had learned to love so much.  Then I
let her press her lips back to mine hard and I felt her right leg cross
over my body.  So slowly it seemed to take forever, she let herself down to
lie on top of me, her pussy pressed against my cock, which was now
sandwiched between us.

   At first she didn't move her lower body.  She just lay there, kissing me
over and over.  But as she tried to rub her little titties against me, she
inevitably moved her pussy on my cock.  She pushed up and looked down
between us.  I raised my head to see too, and saw that her pussy lips were
straddling my cock, which put her clit right on my bone.

   She gave a little choking whine and let her body slide her pussy along
my cock.  Her sudden indrawn breath electrified me.

   Donna suddenly laid down on the towel beside me.  She lay on her side,
facing us.  Robby looked over at her and Donna was smiling.

   "I told you it was nice." she said.

   "Shut up." said Robby.

   "You should let him suck your pussy." recommended Donna.

   "Shut up." said Robby, letting her clit glide back down my cock.

   "And your nipples too." added Donna.  "You should let him suck them."

   "Donna would you please shut up?" whined Robby.

   Roberta watched as her pussy rubbed along my cock for a few seconds more
and then she lifted her head, wanting another kiss.  I felt brave enough
... and secure enough too, I suppose, to put my hands on her skinny naked
buns and help her rub my cock.  The "Mmmmm" I got pretty well told me I was
still secure.

   Robby started to breathe harder and move more jerkily and she put her
mouth an inch from mine.

   "Bobby?" she said, her voice high.  "I think I'm going to have an
orgasm."

   Again, her insistence to use more formal language struck me.  She seemed
at once so proper and yet the situation was SO bizarre, based on our
previous relationship.

   "I'm glad Robby." I said back to her.  I didn't know what else to say to
the girl getting herself off on my prick.

   Robby stared into my eyes with an intense look that was almost scary. 
Then her eyes closed halfway, like THEY wanted to be closed, but SHE wanted
them open so she could see mine.

   "Ohhhhhhhhh" she said, her voice low now.  "Ohhhhhh Bobby".  It was such
a sexy sound that I couldn't believe it was coming out of Knobby Robby's
mouth.

   Watching her have that orgasm was one of the most fun and satisfying
things that had ever happened to me to that point.  As I think back on it
now it's still one of my favorite memories.  It was like she was a little
girl one second and grew up the next second.  She took in deep lungfuls of
air, but it was actually a pretty quiet event, all things considered. 
Maybe she was concentrating a hundred percent on what she was feeling, I
don't know, but she wasn't loud or violent like some of the others.

   Finally she stopped moving and leaned down for another kiss.  It was ...
hungry.  I don't know how else to describe it.  And, while she was kissing
me, her hand snaked down between us and fisted my cock.  She raised her
hips up off of me and I felt her move until the tip of my cock got hot and
felt pressure.  I knew it was in her pussy mouth, but I didn't think she'd
push it in.

   I was wrong.  Knobby Robby, my buddy ...  my pal ...  my suddenly grown
up young woman, gave a grunt as, without any warning at all, she impaled
her skinny body on my prick.

   She gave a groan as it slid in her and I was astonished at how easily
that happened.  As small as she was, she took my cock like it belonged
there.  Oh, she was tight.  No doubt about that.  But, maybe because of her
athleticism, or because she had masturbated for years, she swallowed me up
with only that groan.  Not only that, she sat UP when she got it in as far
as it would go.

   Since my whole cock felt all warm and happy, I knew that meant I was all
the way in her.

   Donna said "ROBBY!  WHAT ARE YOU ..."

   Robby turned her head and said "Donna I TOLD you to SHUT UP!" Then, as
if we'd been doing this for years, she started rising and falling on my
bone.

   Gone in a flash was her smooth, almost patient and sweet sliding.  Her
hands came to my chest and she used them to lean forward on while her
thighs flexed, lifting her up.  Then she slammed down hard though to elicit
a grunt from me.  She did that again and again until she had set up a
rhythm that had her falling every time the second hand on the watch in my
shoe ticked to another dot on the dial.  Her head hung, like she was
watching her pussy sliding up and then falling heavily down on my cock and
I felt the tip of my cock push hard into something inside her.

   Thank my lucky starts she only lasted about two minutes before she
started saying "Fuck" every time she fell down, impaling herself again. 
After her correctness, hearing Roberta say that word was like Rod Serling
had sucked us into the Twilight Zone.  She added an "Oh" in front of the
fuck as she sped up and suddenly she was MORE violent than any of the
others, pounding me like I had pounded Large Marge.  Suddenly she was the
cave woman, taking her man.

   All I could do was hang on for the wildest ride of my life as she
obviously neared another orgasm.

   Then it was there, and she slammed down and stayed down, rotating her
pussy, and my cock, in circles as she leaned forward.

   Just like that I shot Knobby Robby full of steaming hot spunk.  She was
pressed against me so hard there was no way any of that spunk would ever
get out of her.  I thrust my hips up and groaned as my cock
rat-a-tat-tatted her full of my creamy spend.

   Robby leaned down again, like she wanted another kiss.  Instead she said
"I love you Bobby."

   THEN she kissed me.

   "Ohhhh" moaned Donna beside us.  I rolled my head over and she was
masturbating furiously.  Claire was right behind her, her whole swim suit
off now, and her hand between her legs as she stood/squatted, the three
fingers covering her clit and pussy lips moving back and forth so fast they
were a blur.

   "That was sooooo cool." moaned my sister, who was supposed to be grossed
out by seeing her brother fuck one of her best friends.

   It was obvious to all present that she wasn't grossed out at all.

   I turned my face back up to Robby, who was still staring at me like she
was afraid I was going to melt in the hot sun.  I thought she was going to
kiss me again, and again I was wrong.

   "You're the one who did it to Claire ...  aren't you." she whispered.

   I couldn't lie to the woman who'd just given me the best fuck of my
short life.  I blinked twice and nodded once.

   "I knew it." said Robby, and kissed me again.  My cock was still half
hard, and she was sitting on it so it couldn't go anywhere.  She rocked
gently, just rubbing and kissing until finally she lay down on my chest.

   If she never got off I'd be a happy man.

   She was lying on top of me, relaxed, drooping down all over me.  She
wasn't heavy at all, and her state of relaxation was, strangely, one of the
most erotic things that had ever happened to me up to that point.  Her face
was in my neck and I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin.  I
rolled my head to look at Donna, who was staring at us, her mouth open and
her eyes wild.

   "You guys did it!" she said in a hushed voice.

   Robby didn't respond at all.  I smiled and nodded.  "Yeah."

   Just about then my shrinking cock oozed out of Robby's pussy.  There was
a spreading pool of heat on my groin as my semen drained out of her.  Robby
made an unhappy sound.

   She raised her head.  "It got all soft." she complained.

   "It does that when it's been very very happy." I complimented her.

   "I want to do that every day." she said, kissing my nose.

   "If you do you'll get all knocked up." I said back to her.

   "I don't care." said my buddy.  "You said I'd look sexy pregnant."

   "Robby," I said.  "You can't get knocked up.  You're only fifteen.  That
would be a terrible mistake."

   "What if I already am?" she said, with an obvious lack of concern.

   "Then you have to marry me and we'll have to drop out of school, and
I'll have to go to work at some shitty place, making a shitty wage, and
we'll be poor and starve and stuff." I said.  I mean it was true, wasn't
it? Isn't that what happened to kids who 'started a family' too soon?

   "You'd marry me if I was pregnant?" There was a dampness to Robby's eyes
that signaled a heap of emotion behind them.

   "I guess I could live that way." I said.  I didn't add "if I have to."
Things were going too nicely to screw them up right this instant.  "But you
wouldn't like it.  It would be too hard."

   "Yeah" she sighed.  "But it's nice to know.  I think I've been in love
with you since third grade."

   Wow!  Talk about your bombshells.  Little Knobby Robby?  In love with
ME?!  For fricking YEARS?!  It had to be the hormones racing through her
bloodstream.

   "Me too." sighed Donna.  Robby and I looked over at her.  We'd been so
immersed in ourselves that we'd sort of forgotten she was there.

   "With ME?" I managed to make it into a gasp.  It was nice to hear, but
she was full of hormones too, and would eventually need a chance to recant
her confession of love.  Nobody our age really knew anything about love. 
We were like puppies, not yet grown, and stupid about the ways of the
world. Wasn't that why they called it "Puppy Love"?

   Claire was still on her hands and knees behind Donna, still looking over
Donna at the two of us.  We couldn't see her pussy, but her breasts hung
down beautifully.

   "They've ALL been in love with you since third grade you idiot.  Why do
you think they hung around our house so much?"

   "They're the posse." I said dumbly.  "They're YOUR posse."

   "Yeah, that's how it ended up, but they started hanging around because
of you.  Boys are so stupid." she grumped.

   "They can't ALL be in love with me." I said.  That was true, wasn't it?
Wasn't there some kind of girl rule that said only one or two girls could
be in love with a guy at the same time?  And then they had to fight about
it to see who got him.  I was sure there was a rule.

   "Why not?" asked Donna.  "You don't seriously think we'd let you get in
our panties if we didn't like you ...  do you?"

   There was that "like" word again.  It obviously meant something
different to a girl than it did to guys.  I liked all my friends.  I'd
never consider letting them suck my dick, though.  I didn't like them THAT
much.  Maybe that was it.  For a guy, liking comes in degrees.  For a girl,
"like" meant something serious and there were other words for relationships
that WEREN'T serious."

   I tried a hunch.  "What about Joey Trammel?" I asked Donna.  "I thought
you liked him."

   She got a shocked look on her face.  "He's OK, I guess, but I don't LIKE
him!"

   Yup, there were definite differences in language going on here.  Who
understands the way girls think?

   "Oh" I said, like I understood it.

   Then I had a rush of nervousness.  What had I gotten myself into here?
Did I have five girls all thinking that, because I had slid my prick into
them ...  OK, four girls then ...  that they all wanted to marry me?

   "Um ..." I ventured.  "So ...  what now?"

   "What do you mean?" asked Donna.

   "What am I supposed to do now?" I asked.  It sounded like a simple
question, but it was actually very complicated.

   For Claire it WAS simple.  She sat down on the grass and pronounced her
Sheriff's verdict.  "Well, as soon as you and Donna do it, those who want
to keep doing it can keep doing it, and those who don't want to don't have
to any more."

   That didn't help.  "Look," I said.  "Don't get me wrong.  I'm having the
time of my life, but I don't want to get anybody pregnant, and I don't
think anybody's ready to talk about getting married."

   "Who said anything about getting married?" asked Claire.

   I was astounded.  "Robby did!" I said.  "Just a minute ago.  Wasn't that
what we were all talking about?"

   "Oh that." said Claire dismissively.  "We all have dreams, but we're not
stupid.  Who'd actually want to marry a dork like you anyway?"

   "I would." said Robby.  She kissed my chin this time.

   Boy, was I confused.

   Claire waved her hand.  "I know what you mean Roberta, but you don't
really mean that."

   Robby sighed.  "I know." she said.

   Now I was REALLY confused.

   Donna sat up.  Her breasts and stomach were getting a little pink in the
sun.  "I don't know about marriage, but I really want to try ...  it ... 
now."

   Claire got all excited.  She knew that Donna and I hadn't gone "all the
way" yet.  She leaned forward.  "He can get hard again really fast." Then
she looked shocked.

   This was a mistake that the other two girls didn't miss.

   Donna said "How do you know that?", suspicion heavy in her voice.

   Robby pushed herself up with her arms.  "I know how she knows that.  It
was Bobby who popped her cherry!"

   Donna didn't get it ...  yet.  "What?  No way!  How do you know that?"

   Robby said "Think about it Donna.  How many times have we tried to
figure out who it could have been and couldn't come up with a single name?
Where has she gone that we didn't either know about, or found out about
later?"

   I was bracing myself for her to say I had admitted it, but, bless her
heart, she didn't.  Instead she looked at me and said "Admit it Bobby, it
was you, wasn't it!" It wasn't a question.

   I looked at Miss September, and past her to my sister, who was decidedly
uncomfortable and obviously trying to figure out how to get out of this
pickle.  I didn't say anything.

   Donna looked thoughtful.  "Marge has always been suspicious about that,
but she just thought Claire was lying about losing her virginity." She
looked over at Claire.  "Claire?"

   Claire looked at the clouds, and then at the creek, and then found
something very interesting about the grass she was sitting on.  She was
busted.

   Donna got it.  "You let your BROTHER pop your cherry?" she gasped.

   "It wasn't like that." mumbled Claire finally.

   Donna looked back at me.  "You FORCED your sister to have sex?!" she
accused.

   "NO!" I said.  This wasn't turning out well at all.  "It was more of an
accident."

   Robby started rubbing her spermy pussy lips around on my groin.  She
wasn't put off by the incest angle at all.  That's probably because she
thought of herself as almost my sister.  But it was distracting.

   "How do you "accidentally" have sex with your sister?" asked Donna.  She
was beginning to look mad.

   Claire finally found some of that courage that made her the Sheriff in
the first place.  "Remember when he accidentally touched my ...  pussy?  In
the car?" she asked.  Donna nodded.

   "Well, I got ...  excited.  And I had to ...  well ...  rub myself.  And
it felt good and I loved him too, like you guys, and I sort of wanted to
rub off again ...  with him."

   Donna's mouth opened and then closed.

   Claire went on.  "And so I asked him to masturbate with me, and I wanted
to feel his hand again, and we kissed and he was sort of lying on top of me
and ..  it just happened."

   Donna's mouth was open again.  "And you couldn't make him stop?"

   Claire got even redder.  "I didn't WANT him to stop." Her head lifted.
"And then, it was so nice I knew you guys would love it too, so that's why
I told you I had lost my cherry ...  so I could get you guys to find out
how fun it is."

   Donna said, her voice amazed, "You're one twisted girl, Claire."

   "I know." said Claire miserably.

   "And he didn't force you?" asked Donna.

   "No" said Claire.  "He even tried to stop, but I wouldn't let him."

   "And you only did it that once?" asked Donna.

   Claire looked at the clouds and the creek and the grass again.

   "CLAIRE!" gasped Donna.

   "It feels so good." whined Claire.

   "She's right." added Robby, still rubbing herself against my soft dick.

   Donna looked back at Robby.  "And you don't have any problem with all
this?"

   Robby smiled.  "Nope.  I loved it.  I want to do it every single day."
She made it obvious by rubbing herself on me with more ...  vigor.

   "I don't know ..." mused Miss September.

   Robby had another round in her magazine.  "Tell me you never thought
about doing anything with Jeff." Jeff was Donna's older brother.  He was
nineteen and in the Marines.

   Donna's mouth opened and closed again, and she got a very thoughtful
look in her eye.  she looked back at Robby.  "Well, maybe I THOUGHT about a
few things ...  once in a while ...  but I didn't DO anything about it."

   "OK then." said Robby.  "The only difference is that Jeff never happened
to touch your pussy and get you all excited at a time when you COULD do
anything about it."

   Donna blushed.  "Well, yeah ...  but ..."

   I finally decided it was time to say something.  "Donna, you don't have
to do anything anyway.  If it bothers you that's OK.  You have a right to
be disgusted with me if you want to."

   She looked at me.  "But I'm NOT disgusted with you.  I just think it's
strange, that's all.  And now, after seeing you and Robby doing it, I WANT
to do it, but you won't do it with me." She got all teary eyed "You'll do
it with your SISTER, but NOT WITH ME!"

   And then she bawled.

   Robby was off me in a flash and she and Claire both were hugging Donna.
Have you ever seen three naked fifteen year old girls hugging each other
and crying and one of them has your sperm running out of her freshly
deflowered pussy while another one WANTS to have your sperm running out of
her freshly deflowered pussy?

   OK, probably not, but try to IMAGINE that.

   I got hard again.  I didn't WANT to get hard again, but I did.  I knew
this was NOT the right time to get hard again ...  but I did.

   When it quieted down a little Claire looked over at me, a frown on her
face.  "Is THAT why it's been taking so long?  You won't DO IT with
Donna?!"

   Her eyes went to my stiff-again prick and I wanted to cover it up. 
"It's not like that." I said, using her own words.  "She's too tight.  I'll
hurt her.  I might even TEAR her!" I threw that last one in, knowing that
would shut them up.

   "Of COURSE it will hurt, you Dodo!" barked Claire.  "It ALWAYS hurts the
first time.  Why do you think we wanted to do it with YOU?!"

   You know how, when you're watching a movie at the theater and the film
slips on the sprocket and jerks around a little before either popping off
the gears or going back to normal?  That's what happened in my mind.  I
mean ...  they wanted to do it with me the first time because it HURT the
first time?  What the hell did THAT mean?

   "What the hell does THAT mean?" I blurted out.  My brain was still
shimmying around in my skull.

   "It MEANS, you moron, that if it's going to HURT, you want to do it with
somebody you really LIKE and that makes it all WORTH THE PAIN!" Claire
ended up screaming.

   "Oh." I said.  That wasn't something guys thought about all that much I
guess.

   Now you'd have thought that the mood would have been all ruined, and
that all three of them would be mad at me and disgusted and get dressed and
walk off.  But these were TEENAGED girls, you see, so logic doesn't enter
into it.

   Claire stood up, naked.  And angry.  And really beautiful too.

   "NOW, YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND POP DONNA'S CHERRY THIS INSTANT!"
she screamed at me.  She actually stomped one naked foot.  It made her
breasts jiggle nicely.

   Then my brain rattled again as Robby KISSED Donna on the LIPS and said
"It's going to be OK Donna.  You're going to love this." And she lay Donna
down on her towel and got her all arranged, like a sacrifice on a Mayan
altar and stood up, my sperm running down the inside of her thigh and stood
beside Claire.

   Rod Serling and his Outer Limits was back.  This just couldn't be real.

   Donna, dear sweet Donna, turned her head and looked at me with tears in
her eyes and said "Please Bobby?"

   Now maybe this sounds all exciting to you, but guys, let me tell you,
this is no situation to find yourself in.  Talk about your conflicting
emotions.  Here was a girl I'd wanted to fuck for a long time, asking me to
do it.

   But I KNEW it would hurt her and hurt her a lot.  She was just too
tight. I looked down at my prick, hoping it was soft as butter on a July
day, but Mr.  Happy had a mind of his own and it sure wasn't in tune with
my own mind.  He was standing out proud and strong, despite having squirted
only ten minutes earlier.  I could hear him in my mind: "Heh heh, I'm ready
brother, where is she?  Let me at her!  I wanna PLAY!"

   So, I crawled over to Donna and she smiled as she saw me coming and held
out her arms to me and everything.  I kissed her first, and told her we
needed to make out a little first.  She nodded and her kisses were ... 
intense.  Always before kissing had just been fun, but now they were a
prelude to something new and different and scary for both of us.  I went
down to her inverted nipples and sucked them out as she wiggled under me.
Then I started kissing my way down to her pussy.  I knew it needed to be
nice and slippery if I wasn't going to just kill the poor girl.

   "Get on with it!" growled Claire.

   I lifted my head.  "You just shut your mouth Claire." I said.  I used my
big brother voice on her.  This was all HER fault and I was going to have
to live with the consequences of it.

   I licked and sucked and prodded Miss September with two fingers until
she was nice and slippery and then crawled back up to her face.

   "You're sure about this?" I whispered.

   She nodded again and reached down between us.  She had rubbed herself
with my cock head before, so she knew where to put it and this time, when
it dipped in between hot pussy lips I pushed enough to lodge it tight.

   Donna winced.  I wasn't even past her hymen and she winced.  She must
have seen the look in my eyes.

   "It doesn't really hurt" she said.  "I'm just nervous."

   So I pushed.

   Nothing happened.  I felt Mr.  Happy bend slightly.  Donna winced again
and spread her legs farther apart.

   "Do it Bobby." she urged me.

   So I pushed ...  harder.  And suddenly I was partway inside her.  It was
like somebody took a pair of water pump pliers and clamped them on my cock.
Only they were made of something hot and spongy, and not metal.

   This tortured sound came out of Donna's throat and I stopped.  Her eyes
were tightly closed, but when I didn't do anything else she opened them. 
Tears threatened to overflow any minute and then did as she raised her head
to look down at the place that hurt so much.  Her hands came up to my waist
and her nails dug into my skin.

   "DO IT!" she screamed, and pulled.  About the same time Claire slapped
my ass with the flat of her hand just as hard as she could.

   Mr.  Happy gave a strangled, choked off gurgle as he was forced deep
inside Miss September and his little head kissed Donna's cervical mouth.

   My ear was deafened by Donna's agonized scream as her tissues were
cruelly spread apart.  She later told me that almost all the pain was right
at her opening, where her pussy lips were so tightly stretched, and that
the only reason she didn't try to push me off of her was the ...  other
feeling ...  deeper inside of her ...  where Mr.  Happy was gasping for
breath and turning blue.  She said she was able to concentrate on that
feeling and push aside the pain of her bleeding hymen and stretched pussy
lips.  Women are amazing creatures, I'll tell you that.

   Anyway, once I was in her she was perfectly happy to have me stay stock
still while her abused pussy realized that the invader wasn't going away
real soon, and that it needed to stretch and accommodate that bastard
prick.

   I was holding myself up with stiff arms.  I adjusted them and Donna
yelled "DON'T MOVE!" So I lay there, skewering the poor girl and ... 
didn't move.

   At some point her hands loosed their grip on my sides.  I expected blood
to dribble down my sides, but I didn't feel anything.  My ass cheek hurt
like fire.  Mr.  Happy wasn't talking any more and I couldn't even tell if
he was still actually stiff or not.  I could feel pain where my foreskin
had been stretched beyond normal as my cock penetrated her.

   All in all, it hurt us both, and I didn't think either one of us was
going to have a good memory of this.

   I pulled out a little, just to ease the fire in my foreskin, expecting
Donna to scream "DON'T MOVE" again.

   But instead she lifted her head again to look at where we were joined.

   "It's in me." she whined.

   What could I say.

   "Oh Bobby, it's really IN me!" Her voice was stronger.

   Pulling back had made the pain where the shaft started go away, and Mr.
Happy had apparently been able to drag in a breath or something, because he
suddenly sent a signal to my brain that there was something deeper inside
Donna that he kind of wanted to go see.

   I pushed before I could stop myself, and the tip of my cock dug into
what I know now was the mouth of her womb.

   "Oooooo" she whined.

   "Sorry" I choked out.  "I couldn't help it."

   "It's not so bad now" she said, sounding amazed.  "Do that again."

   I couldn't push any harder.  I was all the way in her.  So I pulled back
maybe an inch or so and then pushed again.'

   "AHHHHHHHH" came a sound from Miss September's voice.

   "Go easy there." warned Claire from right beside us.

   "Shut up Claire." said Donna.  I think she learned that from Robby.

   At Donna's urging I began to move a little more each time until I was
dragging my prick almost all the way out of her and then sliding it back
into a furnace of wet pussy.

   I learned later in life that some women have orgasms that are due
primarily to vaginal friction, meaning the feel of a penis sliding along
her vaginal walls.  Other women have clitoral orgasms, and if their clit
isn't stimulated they can't cum.  They still like the feeling, but just
can't cum.  If you know a woman who likes it doggy style, but can't cum
that way, she's probably a clitty woman and not whatever you call the other
kind.

   Donna had had lots and lots of orgasm while I licked, sucked or rubbed
her clit.  But it turned out that what she REALLY liked was a nice stiff
penis sliding in and out of her pussy.

   OK, one more thing before we get back to the good stuff.  Have any of
you seen that movie called "Porky's", where the female gym teacher has the
nickname "Lassie"?

   Well, it hadn't been made yet, but I bet the author, or producer or
whoever was responsible for that movie was hiding in the bushes when Donna
got her cherry popped and got her first hard prick inside her.

   Donna started pulling at the towel, and then tearing up handfuls of
grass and her air raid siren got good and warmed up as her hips started
thrusting up off the ground and she SCREAMED like she was being just KILLED
as she had an orgasm.  Her head was flailing back and forth and I expected
to feel Robby's hands beating on me again, trying to get me off.

   But it was pretty obvious that Donna was working up to it.  Also, Robby
had felt what was happening to Donna, and I think they could hear the joy
in Donna's voice that sounded like screams of torture to me, because all
Robby and Claire did was masturbate like CRAZY while Donna came all over my
cock.

   Donna shouted my name and called for her mamma, and said some very bad
words and bucked like a bronco at a rodeo while I used all my weight to
stay on ...  and in her.

   She was gasping for air and that was noisy too, and I stopped to give
her a chance to breathe and because what she'd just done made me feel so
manly I was about to spurt.

   "Don't <gasp> stop <gasp>" she ...  gasped.

   "If I don't stop I'll cum." I gasped back.  When had I lost my breath
like that?

   "YES!" she shrieked.  "DO THAT!"

   Well, as they say, the customer is always right.  So I started in again
and it felt so good that about half a minute later I groaned and said "Here
it comes Donna!"

   Which was about then Claire shouted at us.

   "WAIT ...  DONNA ...  WHEN WAS YOUR LAST VISIT?"

   And Miss September, whose pussy had at last become accustomed to my
prick enough to be able to flutter all around it yelled "SHUT THE FUCK UP
CLAIRE!"

   I groaned and felt soothing semen rush through my prick.  Donna's eyes
got wide and she said "I FEEL it!"

   It felt so good I got weak and sort of collapsed on top of Donna.  And
it did something to her too because I felt fire in my shoulder as she BIT
me!  She said she was sorry later, that she didn't even know why she did
that.  I had a perfect impression of her front teeth on the front of my
shoulder for two weeks and had to be really careful when I took showers so
that my folks didn't see it.

   Anyway, Robby wanted to go again, but I was so exhausted that I just
rolled off of Donna and then rolled onto my front so nobody could get to my
poor penis.  Robby sat on my butt and taunted me, saying I was a wimp, and
maybe even queer or something, but it didn't work.  I wanted to go to sleep
but damned if all three of the girls weren't all perky and excited.  They
were chattering like they had each eaten a pound of sugar or something.

   When they found out I really wasn't going to do anything else they
insisted it was time to go anyway.  We had a minor panic attack when Donna
said she was too sore to walk.  She was hobbling around bow legged and it
would have been funny except that there HAD been blood when I finally got
off of her.  She didn't keep bleeding, but there was no way she was going
to be able to walk into her house like that and not be asked all kinds of
very dangerous questions.

   Nobody knew what to do.  How did you do first aid for a sore pussy?  I
joked about being willing to give her "mouth to mouth" and Robby started
rolling up her towel to snap me with it.  Donna kept tiptoeing along, going
"OW" and "SHIT" and other sounds that made it clear she was in some real
pain.

   We were half way home and it hadn't gotten any better and we were
getting worried.  How the heck were we going to be able to explain this? 
Then Robby started squealing and said "I have an idea.  Claire!  Come with
me."

   Robby took off running, turning around to make sure Claire was following
her.  Claire wasn't, because Claire didn't like to run, but Robby got her
going and they disappeared from view.

   "I'm really sorry Donna" I said when we were alone.  "I knew I shouldn't
do it."

   Miss September stopped and looked at me.  "I wouldn't change things for
anything." she said.

   "Really?" I was pretty amazed.

   "Really!" she said firmly.  "I may never let you touch me again, but I
wouldn't change things for anything."

   I must have looked pretty depressed, because she laughed and said she
was just kidding.  Then she winced as she took a step.

   We took it slow and about fifteen minutes later saw movement in the
woods.  It was Claire and Robby coming back.  I grinned when I saw they
were bringing two bikes apiece.  Claire had gone and gotten hers and mine,
while Robby got her own and one from somewhere else.  Only one of them was
a true "girls" bike, with no ball buster bar from the seat to the
handlebars.

   When we got to Donna's house Claire was riding the girls bike and Donna
was pushing mine.  It had the best bar for the story we were going to tell.
Robby, seeing Donna limping along, thought about the last time she had felt
like that, which was when her feet slid off her pedals during an encounter
with a pot hole and she had slammed down on the ball buster bar.  Of
course, she didn't have any balls to bust, but ask any girl what it's like
and they'll tell you stories to make your blood curdle.

   Claire threw her bike on the ground and ran up on the porch and into the
house.  She came back out with Donna's mom, who had a look of real concern
on her face.  Claire had told her "what happened" while we were riding
bikes.  Donna insisted she was OK, and didn't need to go to the hospital or
anything, and that she just needed to sit down somewhere for a while.  Mrs.
Miles thanked us for helping Donna get home and took her daughter into the
house.

   The rest of us looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. 
Robby took off toward her house and Claire and I headed home.  It was
almost supper time.

   The phone rang about seven that night and my mom answered it.

   "Bobby?" I heard her say.  She yelled for me and said the phone was for
me.

   It was Mrs.  Miles.  "Bobby?  Could you come over here?  I need to talk
to you about something." she said.

   This just couldn't be a good thing.  "Sure" I said brightly.  I told my
parents where I was going and walked over to their house.  On the way I
tried to think of all the little chores I'd done for Mrs.  Miles over the
years.  She was the only divorced woman I knew, and, not having a man
around the house, she sometimes needed a little help with a few things. 
She was pretty independent, though, and I couldn't think of anything she'd
need me for this late in the evening.

   When I got there and knocked, Mrs.  Miles came to the door.  She smiled,
which made me feel better, and led me into the living room where Donna was
sitting on the couch.  She looked as unhappy as I've ever seen a girl look.
That made me a little unhappy too.

   I had a bad feeling about this.

   CHAPTER NINE

   "Sit down, Bobby." Said Mrs.  Miles.  "You can sit by Donna if you like
...  since you two are such good ...  friends."

   Oh shit.

   It turned out that our carefully planned grand scheme ...  or should I
say Robby's wild and unplanned grand scheme ...  had a couple of flaws in
it.

   First off it never occurred to us that Donna's mother would want to ...
inspect ...  her daughter's bike riding injury.

   Secondly, we hadn't gone back in the water after our afternoon
activities.

   A third problem couldn't really be called our fault, since we didn't
really have any reason to even think about the fact that Mrs.  Miles was
completely cognizant of what sperm looked ...  and smelled ...  and yes ...
tasted like, to say nothing of her ability to look at a recently fucked
pussy and recognize the kind of trauma recent fucking DOES to a pussy.

   We could have blamed it all on Donna.  Getting caught, I mean.  We could
have said that, when her mother told her to take off her swim suit so she
could see the damage, Donna should have begged to take a shower first or
something like that.  But Donna wasn't thinking any clearer than any of the
rest of us, so that wouldn't have been fair.

   And, of course, Mrs.  Miles knew all about Donna's nickname ...  and who
had given it to her ...  and the fact that the same boy had been out with
her daughter that afternoon.

   It also turned out that Donna wasn't very resistant to interrogation. 
She and her mother really DID share just about everything.  About the only
saving grace was that Donna had made it quite clear to her mother that it
had taken her literally months to GET me to pop her cherry, and that I had
done so only when begged.

   Of course, when Mrs.  Miles sat in a chair across from us and just
looked at the two of us, frowning slightly ...  I did not know all of this
extremely crucial information.

   "Bobby?" she said.  "I want to ask you some questions.  I want you to
tell me the truth."

   She waited for me to respond to her statement.

   I swallowed.  I wanted to look at Donna, but I knew that was a bad idea.
"Yes ma'am." I said.

   Mrs.  Miles asked "How did Donna get her ...  injury this afternoon?"

   "Mom, I told you ..." came a pleading voice from beside me.

   "Be quiet Donna." said her mother.

   My first instinct was to stick to the plan.  But the look on Donna's
face when I got there suggested the plan was in sad shape.  Then I felt the
urge to just say that I wasn't looking when it happened, and didn't know
exactly how "it" had happened.  I mean that was true, wasn't it?  I wasn't
actually looking at my prick when Claire slapped my ass and I slayed
Donna's hymen.

   But my father had always taught me that the measure of a man is what he
says, when what he says, could be hurtful to him.  What me meant by that
was that sometimes, telling the truth can get you in trouble, and that a
real man disregards that little problem.  My dad was big on truthfulness.

   Then again, I couldn't just say "Well, Mrs.  Miles, I climbed up on top
of your sweet little daughter here and just fucked her bowlegged, that's
what happened."

   I took a breath ..  and the middle road.  "Um ...  I might have had
something to do with that." I said.

   That was fairly noncommittal.  It was obvious she was suspicious, but
how much did she actually know?

   "You ...  might have?" asked Mrs.  Miles.  "Tell me Bobby, how many
other boys were there when this happened?"

   Oh boy.  "None, ma'am." I answered truthfully.

   "So it was just you and the girls?"

   "Yes ma'am."

   "And you were out riding bikes?" she asked.

   Well, we rode them at the end, right?  OK, except for Donna, and anybody
would understand why she didn't want to actually sit on a bike seat just
then.  But Mrs.  Miles did say "You", which could be construed to mean just
"me" and even three out of four was a clear majority of people who rode
bikes.  That wasn't too far from the truth ...  technically.

   "Yes ma'am." I said, technically truthfully.

   "Aren't Donna and Roberta a little young for you?" she asked.

   I sort of missed how she slipped Roberta's name in there.  All I heard
was the young part.  I was thinking a mile a minute, trying to come up with
something to say.

   "I guess so" I said first.  "Except that I like being around them."

   "I just bet you do." said Mrs.  Miles.  "Couldn't you have at least used
a rubber?"

   "I didn't have one, ma'am." I said on impulse.  Donna elbowed me hard.
My heart sank.

   I hate it when parents do that kind of thing to you.  They get you
talking and answering questions and then they slip that one question in
that tars and feathers you because you answer it automatically, because
you're used to answering questions.

   Mrs.  Miles stood up.  "Donna, you sit right there.  Bobby and I are
going to have a little private discussion.  Don't you move an inch until we
get back.  Is that clear?"

   She didn't wait for an answer because she knew her daughter well enough
to know no answer was needed.  Instead she crooked her finger at me.  It
would have looked sexy, except that I figured she knew where that filleting
knife was too, and that I was about to find out what it felt like to have
my balls cut off ...  privately.

   She led me to her own bedroom.  That didn't seem odd to me.  I mean what
more private place in a house is there than the parent's bedroom?  Then she
closed the door.  That didn't seem odd to me either.  She wanted privacy,
right?  I mean who wants witnesses when you're going to cut somebody's
balls off?

   She walked to the middle of the room and paced around a little before
turning and facing me.  I have to say here that Mrs.  Miles was a nice
looking woman.  She was probably in her mid thirties or so and had her hair
styled like Farrah Fawcett.  Donna's comment that her mother looked more
like Miss September than Donna did flitted through my mind, but I clamped
down on that.  This was the wrong time to be thinking things like that.

   "You were very stupid today." she said, folding her arms under her
breasts.  That just put those breasts on display, sitting there on her
arms. They deserved to be on display.  They looked pretty spectacular to
me. I shook my head.  I was having a hard time concentrating.

   "Yes ma'am." I said.

   "Would you PLEASE stop calling me MA'AM?" she said darkly.  "You're
making me feel like I'm an old woman.  My name is Shirley.  And since
you're man enough to have sex with my daughter, I suppose you're man enough
to call me Shirley."

   "Yes ma'am ...  I mean ...  Shirley." I was NOT going to be able to call
this woman by her first name.  It just blew my mind to even think about
doing that.  Then the enormity of what was going on hit me and I realized
that all men called their Mother-in-law by her first name.  Was that what
this "private chat" was all about?  I had fucked her daughter and now she
was going to demand that I make an honest woman out of her?"

   "You could easily have gotten her pregnant, Bobby." said Shirley.

   "I know." I said miserably.  "I didn't mean to do it actually."

   "Yes" said Shirley.  "Donna told me that.  She said she had to beg you.
Is that really true?"

   "I didn't want to hurt her." I said, by way of a very weak explanation.
"I knew it would hurt her."

   "And how would you have known that ...  Bobby?" asked a very shrewd Mrs.
Miles.

   "Well ...  I kind of learned that because of ...  um ...  some other
times?" I finished it as a question.

   "What others, Bobby?" came the inevitable question.

   "I can't really say Ma'...  um Shirley.  I mean it wouldn't be right to
say their names."

   "Well, at least he has SOME discretion." said Shirley to her imaginary
friend.  All women have one of those.  They talk to them pretty regular
too.

   She looked me dead in the eye.  "Do you love Donna Bobby?"

   "Um ...  that's not an easy question to answer." I said.  She hadn't
brought out that filleting knife and I was beginning to get interested in
the fact that this was a conversation, and not a screaming match.  "I mean
I'd never hurt her on purpose, nor would I allow any harm to come to her. I
like her for sure.  She's bright and friendly and smart and I like being
around her." I looked back at Shirley.  "I guess I'd have to say I'm not to
sure what love feels like."

   Shirley was looking at me with her head cocked to one side a little.  It
made me want to cock my head too, so her eyes would look right.  I didn't
though.

   "Do you have a rubber with you right now?" asked this strange woman.

   "No ma'am." I grimaced as she frowned.  "No."

   "I thought all boys carried rubbers with them these days." she said.

   "I guess some might." I admitted.  Then, probably because I just needed
to talk to let out some stress, I told her what I thought about getting
rubbers out of machines that sold "instant pussy".  She actually laughed.

   "How many of the other girls have you ...  um ...  done the same thing
with that you did with Donna?" she asked.  "I mean Claire's friends." she
added.

   This was getting dangerous again.  "Look, Shirley, I don't really want
to talk about that.  I know what I did with Donna was wrong, and I'm sorry
about that.  If you want me to marry her then I will.  I don't know how
we'll get along, but I'll do the right thing."

   Saying that made me so weak in the knees that I had to lean against the
wall.

   She got a look on her face that was clearly startled.  Then she put her
hand over her mouth, but not before I saw a smile there.  She turned
around, facing away from me and stayed that way for a few seconds.  When
she turned back around the frown was on her face again.

   "You're very lucky that Donna's last period was only a few days ago. 
She's not pregnant, Bobby.  And she doesn't want to marry you.  I don't
want her to marry you either, for that matter.  That would be a disaster of
the first magnitude.  At least right now."

   Talk about hitting a guy when he's down.  I was ...  unacceptable ... 
as a potential mate for Miss September!

   But I wasn't stupid.

   "Thank you." I said.

   "However ..." said Shirley, "there are going to have to be some changes.
I will NOT have you impregnate my daughter in the future, either
accidentally OR on purpose.  Is that clear?"

   "Yes ma'am" I held up my hands as her frown deepened.  "I'm sorry.  I
was taught to say that.  I'll try harder.  And you're no old lady by any
stretch of the imagination, so don't think that's what I think."

   Shirley toyed with the top button on her blouse.  "Donna told me what
you did for her." she said.

   "What was that?" I asked.

   "About her nipples." said Donna's mother with a straight face.

   "Oh" I blushed.

   "That was a very nice thing to do for a girl like her Bobby."

   "Well, it bothered her a lot and she thought she was ugly and all that,
but she wasn't, so I just tried to help her understand that she was really
beautiful." I was talking too much, but I couldn't help it.  The relief of
knowing I got to keep my balls made me giddy.  That and knowing that I
didn't have to go home and tell my parents I was engaged.

   "And you got to do some fun things at the same time." said Shirley.

   I blushed more.  "Well ...  yes."

   She laughed again.  "I thought so.  Well, at least you're honest.  Tell
me this.  What was all that stuff about telling Donna she looked like that
woman in Playboy?  Were you just trying to get in her pants?"

   "Oh HELL no!" I gasped.  "She was only what?  Twelve?  Thirteen maybe? I
just thought she was cute and then I saw that picture and I could see the
resemblance.  I thought about it at night when I ..." My mouth snapped shut
as I realized what I had been about to say.  And when I tried it on her she
got so upset I just knew it was a winner of a nickname.  I guess I was kind
of mean to them back then."

   Shirley Miles had a knowing look on her face.  "Well, all in all you
have done some very nice things for my daughter.  You did some dangerous
and stupid things too, but I don't think you were being selfish about it."
There was a slight pause.  "And all kids get curious, now don't they?"

   I didn't answer.  She stepped toward me.

   "Still," she said.  "I'm going to have to do something to ensure you do
not do something stupid with my daughter again."

   The obvious fix zapped straight into my mind.  All she had to do was
call the cops and tell them what I'd done.  I couldn't very well do
anything stupid with her daughter if I was locked up in reform school
somewhere, now could I?

   "Take off your pants Bobby." said Shirley calmly.

   "Beg your pardon?" I asked.

   That film sprocket was acting up again.

   "I want to see what all the fuss is about." she said.  "You showed it to
my daughter ...  and probably some of her friends, from the way you're
acting.  I think I have a right to see what caused my baby to bleed.  Just
call me ...  curious ...  if it makes you feel better."

   When I didn't do anything her hands reached out and unbuckled my belt.

   "Come on Bobby, I won't hurt you." said Shirley Miles in a soft,
convincing voice.

   Where had I heard that line before?

   Mrs.  Miles - I just had a hard time thinking of her as Shirley, you
know?  - got the belt undone without looking at it.  She looked right into
my eyes the whole time.  And somehow she got the button on my shorts
undone, and then her hand brushed against Mr.  Happy as my zipper came
down.

   Mr.  Happy, perhaps able somehow to feel the genetic similarities
between Miss September's hand and her mother's, lifted his cute little head
and said "Again?  So soon?  Oh GOODY!" Even If I knew who was pulling that
zipper down, he didn't.

   Or maybe he just didn't care.

   So, when Mrs.  Miles' eyes finally unlocked from mine and slid down my
chest as she knelt in front of me, and my shorts dropped to the floor like
they had lead weights in them, Mr.  Happy was wrestling with my underwear
like a man on Safari, trying to push tall grass aside so he could see his
prey.

   Except the "prey" found him first.

   I was staring at a mirror that was attached to a long dresser kind of
thing against the wall, and what I saw was a seventeen year old boy, not
too bad looking, sunburned around the face, wearing a shirt and, where his
dick should have been, was this big fluffy blond Farrah Fawcett hairdo that
made it look like the boy had pubic hair you'd expect to see on Big Foot. I
had to grin.

   What Shirley Miles saw as she 'parted the grass' by pulling my underwear
down to my knees, was the bobbing tool that had, indeed, made her daughter
bleed.  And, it was in the same condition it had been in when said bleeding
took place.

   Mr.  Happy, possibly blinking in the sudden light, moved his head around
here and there, going "OK, where is she?  I'm ready!  I won't fail you
Bobby.  Just bring her on."

   "My, my, my." said Mrs.  Miles.

   Mr.  Happy gave a little "eeep" as the light was suddenly cut off again
and it got very ...  very dark.  That was because Shirley Miles had his
head lodged firmly in her mouth.

   I believe I said something very close to "Eeep" as well.

   It's a good thing I was leaning against that wall, because otherwise my
dick might have gotten all scraped up against her teeth as it was jerked
between them while I fell in a heap.  But I managed to just sag a little,
and she was able to compensate for that.

   I found out in short order that Donna wasn't necessarily a quick
learner. I think there was a genetic component in her ability to learn how
to suck me like a pro.  Shirley Miles had a very talented mouth.

   What's that you ask?

   What was I thinking about while all this was going on?

   Well, a few years back there had been this movie that caused a
sensation. It was called "The Graduate" and, though kids our age weren't
allowed in the theater to see it, rumor about that movie got thoroughly
distributed around the teen set.  For most of us boys my age, that whole
get seduced by an older woman thing was just a far out fantasy.  I mean
Dustin Hoffman was a college student, right?  So while it might happen to
college students, there was no way it was going to happen to somebody not
even out of High School.  Anybody knew that.

   That's what I was thinking.  I was thinking that this couldn't possibly
be happening to me.

   Mr.  Happy gave another strangled little "eeep" as it got all bright
again when Mrs.  Miles pulled her sucking lips off of him.  He just
stuttered inanely this time, but I knew what he meant.  He meant to say
"It's too bright!  Get that mouth back over my head!  Please?"

   Those eyes rose to pin me even harder to the wall again.  I realized
that Mrs.  Miles looked awfully good for an older woman.  I mean she HAD to
be at least thirty-five.  But she licked her lips like she was only twenty.


   "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a man Bobby?" she asked
me, her lips only an inch from mine.

   "No ma'am" I said.

   "Women like me can get an awful reputation if they ...  fraternize ...
with men." she said.  Her lips pursed and she gave me two little soft
lipped kisses, just like those nipping kisses I loved to give the girls.

   "Ummmm" I answered.  Even I had no idea what I meant.

   "So I haven't had a man for a very long time Bobby.  And I've needed a
man for a long time too." she said in a slightly whiney voice that made my
dick leak.  "But you wouldn't tell anybody if I ...  fraternized ...  with
you ...  would you Bobby?"

   "No ma'am" I said firmly.

   "And then I could put Donna on the pill, and there wouldn't be any more
of those dangerous little swimming sessions for me to worry about ... 
would there Bobby?"

   I wasn't stupid.  This was the chance of a lifetime.  "NO MA'AM" I
barked.  Any Drill Sergeant would have beamed at my response.

   She kissed me one more fluttery kiss and said "Good."

   Then she stood back and unveiled ...  Miss Playboy Of The Year.

   Shirley Miles was in GOOD shape.  She had heavy, but firm breasts that
had suckled only one baby, and she was either vain enough, or just had a
healthy enough lifestyle to have kept her waist narrow and her thighs free
of that layer of fat that most women have and all women just hate.  Her
nipples were a coral color I had never seen before, and they were, by no
means, inverted.  If anything you could have put a light shirt on a hanger
and hung it from those jutting delicious nubs.  Her pubic hair matched
exactly the color of Farrah Fawcett's hair on her head.

   Donna was actually right.  She DID look more like Miss September than
Donna did.

   True, she had a little extra flesh on her stomach that made it slightly
rounded, rather than flat as a board, like Donna's and Robby's, and there
was also enough flesh on her hips that I couldn't see any bony protrusions,
like on some of the girls.

   But that just made it better.

   She was a real woman, in every sense.  My prick leaked a string of
precum that hung down and swung around as Mr.  Happy danced in time with my
heartbeat.

   "My, my" she said in that mellow voice of hers as her eyes followed the
jerking pattern that drip of precum made in the air.  "We're a little
eager, now aren't we?"

   "Ummmmm" was all I could produce.  I suddenly realized that the only
person in the room who was wearing anything at all was me, and that it
shouldn't be that way.  I tore my T shirt off, over my head.

   "Steady, tiger." she purred.  "We only have time to do this once ... 
right now anyway.  Let's just try to pace ourselves a little, OK?"

   She held out her hand to me and I saw mine lift.  I saw her pull my hand
to the bed, where she sat, swiveled and lay back, wide open.  I saw my hand
go down beside her on the bed and suddenly she was under me.  My view went
to her eyes and stayed there as I felt her hand grip my manhood and pull.

   Then there was just sweet bliss as Mr.  Happy drowned in soft, warm
pussy.

   I think two things saved me from being a typical teenage boy in that
situation.  First, it was so unreal that my mind just couldn't really
believe that my prick was buried in a real woman, especially since it was
Donna's mother.

   And, I had been called on to go ...  and go ...  and go, so to speak, on
more than one occasion ...  and had learned, somewhere along the way, to do
so.

   Mrs.  Miles made completely different sounds than any of the girls.  Her
sounds were a mixture of moans and "Mmmmm"s and soft "Awwww"s that almost
sounded like words in a foreign language or something.  They were patently
appreciative sounds.  At some point I remembered that I was part of what
was going on and used a couple of the moves I had learned with the girls. I
also managed to get my lips around those hot pink nipples.  They went much
farther into my mouth than any of the girls' nipples had, and were a
delight to suckle.

   "I see why Donna let you do this to her." moaned Donna's mother. 
"You're GOOD at this."

   Donna's mother also had a way of writhing under me, an undulating kind
of wave-like motion that aided me in digging deep into her.  Five minutes
later Mrs.  Miles tensed up.

   I had a sudden horrid thought that the lonely wolf reaction to an orgasm
in a Miles woman might also be hereditary.  If that was true, Donna would
be charging through that door in about ten seconds, and she'd have that
filleting knife in her hand.

   I kissed Mrs.  Miles on the lips as I dug my cock deep into her and then
said "Please don't scream." as urgently as I could.

   Her eyes, which had been closed, popped open and her mouth made an "O"
shape that looked like it was perfect to reproduce the sounds of an air
raid siren.

   But she didn't.  Instead she moaned "She's a screamer, is she?"

   And then her pussy went just wild.  It rippled and clamped down and did
all kinds of amazing things that felt like a Swedish massage to Mr.  Happy
and she gave a long, slow groan that was just delightful to my ears.

   She shook like a dog and her hips thrust up hard.  Her mouth, in a wide
grimace gasped out "Maybe I should get on the pill too."

   Ohhh boy.  Talk about fireworks in the sky and stars shooting every
which way and all the blood in your body rushing in a second and a half to
your balls so they have enough oxygen to empty themselves in one massive
clenching rush.  It felt like one of my legs had sucked up inside me and
was trying to get out of my body through my prick and into her pussy.

   It was my turn to groan, except that I don't think I had enough control
over my vocal chords to actually make the sound.  I got light headed and
fell on top of Shirley Miles' soft, supporting body as my cock spat its
load deep into her welcoming pussy.

   I came back to reality feeling her hands stroking my back in big
circles. Her pussy was still doing that massage, even though I was beyond
hope of anything that involved energy.  If there was a sperm cell left in
me, it had been abandoned by the muscles that would propel it into her
sucking slit.

   She didn't have to worry about her daughter ...  or anybody else.  I
felt like I'd never be able to get it up again.

   I felt my body rocking on hers and realized it was my lungs, trying to
drag in enough air to keep me alive.  I was surprised they still worked.

   "Thank you Bobby." she said into my ear.  "I really needed that."

   "You're more than welcome, Shirley" I was able to say.  After THAT I
could call her Shirley.

   We lay there for another five or so minutes and then she pushed me off.

   "Donna will be wondering what happened to us." she said, lying there,
not attempting to move.  "Be a good boy and get dressed and go tell her
we're done.  Tell her I was tired and went to bed, OK?"

   "Sure." I said, dragging myself to an upright position.  She looked
beautiful splayed out on the bed.  "And thank YOU." I added.

   Her head rolled so she could look at me.  "Not a word Bobby." she said
unnecessarily.

   "Don't worry." I said.

   "We won't be able to do this very often." she said softly.

   "That's OK" I said.  "I'm glad you had a good time."

   Yeah, I know, it was stupid.  But I was only seventeen.  She just
smiled. And then she said something I thought was a really high compliment.


   "I DID have a good time Bobby.  The best time I've had in a lot of
years."

   When I got out to the living room Donna was fidgeting on the couch,
right where we'd left her.  I must have looked as worn out as I felt.  She
jumped to her feet.  She winced as she did it.

   "WHAT HAPPENED?" asked Donna in an anxious loud whisper.  "You were gone
so LONG!"

   "We had a serious talk." I said.

   How do you tell a girl who just gave you her virginity a few hours ago
that you just fucked her mother?

   You don't.  That's how.

   "What's she going to do?" asked Donna.

   "I think she has decided that we were just satisfying our curiosity." I
said.  "I think she's going to put you on the pill.

   Donna's eyes widened so much I thought her eyeballs might actually pop
out of her head.

   I delievered the rest of the message I was charged with.  "She said she
was tired, and was going to bed.  She'll talk to you tomorrow."

   Donna's mouth opened and closed several times.  "That's IT?!" she
gasped.

   My knees were still a little wobbly.  I sat down.  "I think so." I said.


   "She's not going to tell all the other parents?" asked Donna.

   "I don't know.  She didn't say anything about that." I answered
truthfully.  I couldn't think of any way she could do that without opening
a HUGE can of worms that the whole town would know about in hours, but ...
who knew what adults would do at any given minute?

   It was then that Donna described how, when her mother wanted to see her
injury, to determine whether or not a visit to the doctor was needed, that
the evidence of our activities had been displayed.  Donna said as soon as
she spread her legs and saw the spermy mess in her pubic hair she knew the
jig was up.  She said she couldn't believe it when her mother wiped one
finger through that mess and tasted it.  Shirley knew it had to be mine
from the beginning.  There was just too much history.  She interrogated her
daughter while Donna soaked in the tub and Donna spilled just about every
bean she could find.  Except she didn't admit that I'd done all the other
girls too.

   "What do we do now?" asked Donna, looking lost.

   "I don't actually know, Donna." I said again, truthfully.

   Donna moved and winced again.

   "How are you doing?" I asked.

   She turned to look at me with a question in her eyes.

   "I mean about ...  your ...  um accident?" It was stupid not to be able
to just talk to her, but for some reason I couldn't.

   "Oh ...  that." she said dismissively.  "It's not so bad.  I'm just
sore, that's all." Then she looked at me.  "I'm not sorry we did it Bobby."


   "Thanks." I said.  I really did feel better.

   "I just wish I knew what my mother was going to do." she said, frowning.


   "Me too." I said ...  truthfully.

   I said goodbye and told Donna to just try to get some sleep.  She said
that hot bath her mother had put her in had helped, so she thought she
might do that again and then go to bed.  Then she kissed me lightly on the
lips and repeated.  "I'm not sorry Bobby."

   So I wandered off back home.  It was dark by the time I got there, and
my mother was still up.

   "What was that all about?" she asked.

   "She needed some help with some heavy stuff." It was hard to lie to my
mother, but I managed.

   "So ...  everything's OK?" My mother sounded unsure of herself.

   "Yeah, it's fine.  We got it all taken care of." I said.

   I went to my room and started getting undressed.  I was dead tired, both
from the physical toll that had been extracted from me that day and because
of the emotional drain on my system.

   Claire came through the door as I was taking my underwear off.

   "WHAT HAPPENED?" Her loud whisper was a duplicate of Donna's.

   "Don't you EVER knock?" I asked, turning around.  The fact I was naked
didn't even enter into my mind.  And for once she didn't look at my prick.

   "Come on Bobby ...  what happened?"

   "We got caught.  That's what happened." I said grimly.  This was all
Claire's fault anyway ...  wasn't it?

   So I told Claire what Donna had told me, about HOW we got caught.  Of
course Claire's main worry was whether or not ALL of us had gotten caught,
or just me and Donna.

   I didn't mention the ...  counseling session ...  Shirley had engaged in
with me.  It wasn't anybody's business but mine and Shirley's.

   "What's she going to do?" asked Claire.

   "All I know is she said she was going to put Donna on the pill." I said.
"Now get out of here.  Mom is already suspicious.  I don't want to go
through the same thing with her that I went through over there."

   My mind sprocket slipped a few times as images of my mother taking her
clothes off in front of me flitted around in my brain.  I shook them off. I
had enough trouble without something like that.

   Claire left and I rolled into bed.  I was asleep in seconds.

   Things were tense for a few weeks as everybody waited for the other shoe
to drop.  The posse got together and Donna described everything that had
happened at the creek, and afterwards ...  in Technicolor, with sound
effects, I imagine.

   I don't know how Shirley managed it.  Not a single mother or father
approached me and demanded to know what I'd been doing with their
daughters, but somehow, it just came to pass that the whole posse got put
on birth control by Doctor Phillips, the town physician.

   That's not to say I didn't get a few speculative looks from the various
adults in my life.  Shirley wouldn't tell me how she did it either.  She
just said that things had been taken care of ...  girls being girls, and
boys being boys.  She told me that as she writhed and moaned under me
another time, not too awfully long after the first time, while the posse
was over at Monique's house at one of their sleepovers.

   I worked up the courage to ask her if she too, had gone on the pill.

   "Not yet." she moaned.  "I'm still thinking about it.  Oh yessss, deep
like that ...  that's what I like."

   She told me years later that I was much more vigorous when she reminded
me that she was unprotected.

   Who understands teenaged women who are in their thirties?

   Anyway, the next year was one of those years that it was fortunate I was
in the prime of my life.  With seven women making withdrawals from their
privately managed sperm bank, there were times when the bank came
perilously close to failing.  And I had no FDIC to fall back on.

   That's kind of an interesting acronym, relative to that situation. 
Almost ironic, isn't it?

   On the other hand, I became capable of playing those women like the fine
instruments they were and I could make them sing ...  literally.  I know my
mother had suspicions.  I spent way too much time around the posse, and
they didn't, for some reason, date much.  Monique let one other guy get
into her panties, but that turned out to be a one time fling, during which
she found out that experience counted for a lot in the lovemaking game.

   The point is that, while I make it sound like it was a trial for me, it
wasn't really.  That was a fantastic year for me.  My grades were good and,
if my reputation suffered because I wasn't going out quite as often, with
quite as many girls, my self confidence flourished.

   There's nothing like having a bunch of women whispering in your ear
about what a great lover you are to make a guy puff up like a rooster.

   So ...  am I a slut?  Most guys would call me a sex machine or a
cocksman.  Maybe a stud, or bull.  I don't know what most women would call
me.  I'm kind of partial to "studmuffin", but I don't think the guy gets to
pick.  But it doesn't matter what most women would call me anyway.

   In reality there are only seven, whose opinion really matters to me.

   And they're all happy.

   Hey, I gotta run.  Shirley called me.  She has som ...  um heavy things
to move around, and there's nobody there to help her right now.  So it
would be the right thing to do to go help her with her problem ...  right?

   I'll see if I can get back with you in a little while and tell you what
happened after that.  Stay tuned, cause I think you'll be entertained.
EPILOGUE:
Life is strange.  You can plan your life out, but don't assume your
plans will come to fruition.  By the time I graduated I was exceedingly
well fucked, though not in the way people usually mean when they say "I'm
fucked!" That was something I hadn't actually planned on as a young man. 
Most men dream of a career and hope to get laid by the time they graduate.
With me it was kind of reversed.  I dreamed of getting laid, and those
dreams came true much earlier than they do for most men.  But I never gave
much thought to what I'd do with my life after High School.  Maybe it was

because I was living that sexual dream.  I don't know.

   But the fact was, that when I walked across that stage and the Principal
handed me my diploma, I had no idea what the heck to do next.  I'd never
wanted to be a fireman, or policeman, doctor or lawyer, and I had no
concept of what most businessmen did.  I just never thought about it much.
I had worked part time for a hamburger joint called Sandy's, which was
bought out in the seventies and is now known as Hardees, but that wasn't a
career and I knew it even back then.

   I remember it to this day.  I was driving along in town one day and I
saw one of those big billboards that said "Uncle Sam Wants YOU!" with a
picture of the kindly looking old guy with white hair and a beard, and a
red, white and blue striped top hat.  His finger pointing at me.  So I went
to the recruiting office to find out if that was true.

   Turned out it WAS true.  So I joined the Navy.

   I spent six glorious years touring the world, almost all of it at sea
because I loved that.  And I found out that women all over the world
appreciated the same exact things I had learned that the posse members
appreciated.  If you treated a woman with a little respect, you got all the
pussy you could ever dream about.

   Oh sure, there were all the women who were hunting an American husband
so they could get to the States and live the life of Riley, but they were
pretty obvious, and I learned to avoid them, for the most part.  I think
the ones I liked the best were the ones who were curious about what an
American male was like, socially and sexually.  They were were ...  curious
...  like the girls in the posse had been curious.  Of course all those
women hadn't known me for years, or been infatuated with me for years, and
they didn't, for the most part, want to tie themselves to me for the rest
of their life, or leave the culture in which they were most comfortable. 
But they all loved to feel good, at one level or another, and I found out
that a warm pussy feels the same the world around.

   Well, I found out what it feels like through a condom.  Those movies
they show you every time you leave port are pretty damn scary, to say
nothing of the stories the old timers loved to tell.  Did you know they
used to treat one kind of syphilis by laying out your infected prick on a
table and smacking it with a big rubber hammer?  When they did that it
squirted, and it wasn't semen that came out.  You could also hear the
patient's screams clear through steel walls.  I only had to hear that
scream once and I made sure never to expose myself to any potentially
infected pussies.  And it didn't matter if the girl was a virgin or not
either.  In Singapore girls serve in the sex trade for years before they
actually take a prick inside them.  So virgins aren't necessarily safe
either.  Anyway, it still felt good, and it was still possible to make the
girls feel good without giving or getting any unwanted little gifts.

   They say that all good things come to an end.  A month before I was due
to re-up, I got thrown into a bulkhead while we were riding out a
hurricane. I ended up with a compound fracture of the bones in my lower
right arm, an 'iffy back injury' and a cracked skull that led to a couple
of months in the hospital and a medical discharge.  Just as unplanned as
when I joined, I was right back on the street, with no prospects.  Oh, I
had some training, but it was the kind of training that doesn't exactly
mesh with civilian occupations very well.  The one bright spot was that I
had some money saved up, so I didn't have to be in a hurry to figure out
what I wanted to do.

   My parents still lived in the same house, and my stuff was still boxed
up in my room.  My mother kept all that stuff.  She had some kind of sixth
sense that I'd be back, some how, some way.  It was kind of eerie.  So I
went back to Junctionville to see what life had to offer me there.

   Of course one of the first things I did was check up on the members of
the posse.  I had gotten a few letters from them in that first year I had
been gone, and Christmas cards every year from most of them.  Claire wrote
to me pretty regularly and kept me abreast of what was going on in her
life. She mentioned the rest of the girls occasionally, but not in any
great detail.  I figured that after they graduated they probably drifted
away from each other for the most part.  That's what usually happens,
right?

   My mom was, like most moms, overjoyed to see me, even though I hadn't
called ahead to actually tell her I was coming home.  She knew it would
happen, but not when.  I'd asked her not to tell anybody about that because
I wasn't sure how things would shake down.  And mom, like most moms, was
eager to gossip about the girls.  She didn't show any surprise whatsoever
when I asked about the posse.

   Large Marge married Homer Gilson, of all people, right out of High
School.  She got pregnant almost immediately and, my Mom told me, had the
cutest little toddler.  But it turned out Homer had a drinking problem and
a couple of years was all Marge would stand for.  She divorced him and
hadn't remarried.  She worked for one of the lawyers in town as a
paralegal.

   Loosey Suzy, A.K.A Hot Mamma, went to college and was working on her
Doctorate in applied physics.  She was married too, but didn't have any
children yet.  It turned out she was some sort of genius, and was about to
graduate two years ahead of everybody else in her age group.

   All Mom knew about Monique was that she was married and had two kids. 
She and her husband still lived in Junktown but Mom didn't know much else.

   Donna got married but was childless thus far.  She actually worked for
my Dad in his Insurance business.  Mom hinted that my dad was interested in
me going to work for him.  He was getting close to that age when men want
to retire but are expected to work another ten years.  Mom suggested that
if he had a partner he could really trust, he could take more time off work
and spend it with her.  She wanted to see the world outside of
Junctionville, but not alone.

   Knobby Robby went to college and graduated with an education major.  she
had somehow wrangled a job right there in town as the girls' gym teacher at
the High School, and was coaching a winning volleyball team that Mom said
everybody was right proud of.  She ate lunch with Mom every Saturday and
asked about me all the time.  I found that surprising, since she had only
written to me once after I left for the Navy.  She hadn't been happy that I
enlisted.  There were a lot of body bags coming back from Viet Nam back
about then and it hadn't looked like it was going to end real soon.  Of
them all she was the only one who screamed "I hate you Bobby Watkins!" when
I got orders to go to basic.  It was pretty obvious she didn't want me
cluttering up her mail box with a bunch of letters, so I hadn't.

   Claire, of course, I knew more about.  Like I said, she had written me
pretty regularly, so I knew she still hadn't found the "right guy".  She
got a job working for a travel agency and was one of the reasons my Mom
wanted to travel so much.  I had fed Claire tips about where to send
tourists in various places around the world.  You know ...  which hotels
were the best for the uninitiated, and what sights to recommend seeing,
customs and culture stuff ...  all that that you never really get without
actually being there.  I also gave her tips on what Americans did that
pissed off nearly everybody in other cultures, so she could warn them not
to do that kind of shit.  She had her own apartment now, over on the other
side of town somewhere.

   I called Claire first.  My mother hadn't told her I was coming home, as
I had asked.  She wanted to surprise her too.

   "Hey" I said into the phone.

   "Bobby? ...  BOBBY?!" squealed Claire.  I hadn't been all that good
about calling in the last five or so years.

   "Hi Claire Bear." I said.  "I missed you."

   "BOBBY?" she squealed again.  "Where ARE you?"

   "Well, at the moment I'm in our parent's house.  I have my old bedroom
back and everything."

   "YOU'RE HOME?!" she squealed.  Claire was a good squealer.  She squealed
in bed a lot too, or used to.

   "Yeah, I kind of got hurt and they kicked me out.  You wouldn't know
anybody who has a job they need to fill do you?" I tried to act like my
being home was no big deal.  I mean everybody had moved on, right?

   "2201 Maple" said my sister tersely.  "Be there in ten minutes.  You are
in BIG trouble Mister!" She might have moved on, but she was still the
Sheriff, or thought she was.

   So I borrowed Mom's car and drove over to 2201 Maple, which turned out
to be my sister's apartment.  Half of a duplex, actually.  I thought it was
a little odd that she was in her apartment this time of day, especially
since Mom had said the number she gave me was to where Claire worked.

   I knocked on the door and my baby sister opened it ...  stark naked. 
One slim arm snaked out through the open door, grabbed a fistful of my
shirt, and dragged me into the room.

   I swear to this day that it only took Claire sixty seconds to get me
naked and drag me into her bedroom and push me down on the bed.  Somehow,
during that minute, Mr.  Happy, who was, in fact, glad to see Claire again
too, stood up to get his own hug and kiss of welcome back home.  Claire let
herself down on him, engulfing him in one long drop.  She gave out that
wonderful soft sigh of happiness that I'd heard so many years before as she
settled her clit down onto my pubic bone and ground her hips in a little
circle.

   For a guy who was in so much trouble I was feeling pretty good about
things.

   Then she started rocking back and forth, milking my already leaking
cock, and cussed me like SHE was the sailor.  She cussed me for not
calling, and for writing such short letters back to her.  She cussed me for
ruining her sex life by making her perpetually horny.  She cussed me
because she compared every man she went out with to me.  Somehow it was all
MY fault that they didn't measure up, and all MY fault that she'd never get
married, and all MY fault that Mom was hassling her about "Where are my
grandchildren?  I'm getting ancient here!".

   Of course, intermixed with all that cussing were little statements like
"Oooo you feel so good in me Bobby." and "Nobody makes me feel like you do
Bobby." and "Mmmmmm I missed this so much." Things like that.

   In other words, it was STILL impossible to understand the opposite sex.

   And then, when she'd worked me up to a fever pitch, she leaned down and
whispered the bombshell.  "I have never let another man cum in me without a
rubber Bobby.  You wanna squirt up in my pussy?"

   She smothered my groan of assent with her lips and I fountained her full
of twenty-four year old sperm ...  sperm that was in the prime of its life
...  sperm produced by healthy balls that were mad as hell that they had
been denied the chance at fertilizing an egg for the last six years.  Well,
the analogy breaks down somewhere in there, but you get my drift.

   And, as she felt it flushing into her she got even redder in the face
and growled "You WOULD come home right when I'm ovulating you bastard.  You
WOULD come home and fuck your baby in my belly the very first time you put
your prick in me in the last six years." She sounded mad, but then she
moaned "Oh Bobby, make a baby in me ...  pleeease?  I've been waiting soooo
loooong."

   I may have mentioned this before, but I have to ask the question anyway
...  who understands teenaged girls?  Even when they aren't teenagers any
more.

   But I'll tell you this.  She drained every single healthy, eager sperm
cell out of my balls that afternoon.  She didn't go back to work and she
didn't let me out of her apartment until Mr.  Happy wouldn't budge whether
she talked nasty, or used her mouth on him, or anything.  She made it quite
plain that it wasn't going to be any six years before she got him in her
again, too.

   Between times we lay there cuddling and caught up.  It wasn't all heated
accusations and cussing.  She talked about the men she'd met and tried to
fall in love with, wanting to be "normal" like other women.  But she pined
for her first lover, who just happened to be her brother.

   She did get my brat in her belly too.  And, oddly enough, while she was
pregnant, she met Mister Right, who didn't care that she'd spread her legs
once (thirty times!) too often than was good for her.  He married her and
they had four more of their own kids.

   Well ...  they had four more kids anyway.  Claire has never stopped
pulling me through that door with a naked arm once in a while.  And I'm a
pretty normal looking guy, as is Jim, her husband, so who knows who her
pretty normal looking kids have as a biological father.  He has siblings
too, so Claire's closeness to me isn't surprising to him.  I don't think he
really knows just how close we really are, but they're happy, so maybe it's
better that way.

   This is going to seem a little disjointed, because I'll be bouncing back
and forth in time, but it's easier to tell you what happened with each
member of the posse in one sitting, so to speak.  So be patient, kind
reader, and understand that.

   One evening (before she met mister right) Claire called me and said she
wanted to have dinner with me at Delvechio's, which was a little Italian
restaurant that had opened up in the new strip mall that had been built
while I was in the Navy.  She told me to meet her there at a particular
time.  That seemed odd to me because usually Claire and I just ate at her
house when she was feeling frisky.  But I liked Italian food, and figured I
should have some kind of relationship with my sister that DIDN'T involve
sex, so I went.

   When I got there an employee who introduced himself to me as 'Bruno'
(roll the 'r') smiled with perfect teeth and said in some sort of accent
that wasn't anything close to Italian "Ahhhh you must be Meester Watkins.
Come with me please." How he recognized me I don't know, but he led me to a
table that contained my sister ...  and Large Marge.

   Having a baby hadn't done anything bad to Marge at all.  She was a
little thicker in the waist, and didn't look quite so top-heavy, but I
wouldn't find that out until she stood up.  Right now those bounteous
breasts of hers just bulged nicely, hanging over the table as she grinned
and leaned forward.

   "Hi Bobby." she said.

   It was like I had entered a time machine.  Her voice sounded exactly
like it had when she had said "Hi Bobby" the morning after I took her
virginity in my bedroom.

   "Hi" I said back.  Marge still left me a little tongue tied.  She was so
beautiful, and a few added years only made her more beautiful.

   Claire was grinning.  "I told her you were back in town and she wanted
to see you."

   Marge looked up at me with smoldering eyes.  "Claire told me what you
two have been doing.  Old ways die hard, eh Bobby?"

   I sat down.  Bruno had arranged the chair so I'd be sitting across from
them.  "I'm sorry about your divorce." I said.  I didn't know what else to
say.

   "It's OK" she said.  "He was a jerk." She smiled.  "Besides, now I can
spend some time with you again."

   Mr.  Happy lurched in my pants.  Marge always had that effect on me.

   Dinner that night was tense.  While we chatted about the Navy and what
Marge had been doing, and her little girl and all sorts of things, what was
on everyone's mind during dinner was what would happen after dinner. 
Claire didn't give any indications about what the plans were though.  Isn't
it interesting that I expected Claire to call the shots?  I guess it was a
holdover from her days as the Sheriff or something.

   Marge grabbed the bill from Bruno when he brought it to the table.

   "This one's on me." she said.

   "How will I ever pay you back?" I asked, calling on some dim memory of
what suave was like.

   "Oh you'll pay." said Marge.  And she and Claire both laughed out loud.

   They had ambushed me, and had planned it that way.  I had a girl on each
arm as we left and, to my everlasting amazement I learned that some of the
members of the posse were switch hitters.  I had no idea they had ever done
anything together though, now that I think about it, I should have had some
suspicions.  Donna had called me silly one time for thinking that the girls
didn't know about her inverted nipples, and Robby had been embarrassed
about being naked in front of ME, but not the other two girls, that first
time she got naked at the creek.  Not to mention that kiss she gave Donna
before I pillaged Miss September's maidenhead.  And I knew that they had
all worked on Monique when she "prepared" to lose her virginity in that
crocheted outfit that I heard the girls calling "so cute".  And, oh yeah,
Marge didn't mind showing them her cum-filled pussy either.

   So I shouldn't have been all that surprised when they took me back to
Claire's apartment, got naked and almost fucked my brains out.  And when I
wasn't able to perform between bouts, they pleasured each other in ways
that spurred my desire to ...  perform.

   There was a time when I was lying on Marge's bounteous boobs,
luxuriating in the feel of her hot pussy milking my cock for its nectar,
when she kissed me and sighed.  "It would be nice if you could marry me
Bobby." Her pussy muscles milked me some more and I got close to blowing.
"But you can't.  It just wouldn't be right."

   I didn't know what that meant then and, to be honest, I wasn't listening
too closely because there was an orgasm screaming through my balls right
about then.  All I heard was that she couldn't marry me.

   "If you ever change your mind ...  let me know." I gasped, filling her
up with gooey spunk.

   She smiled and kissed me again.  "You're so sweet.  You've always been
so sweet."

   That from a girl who used to call me the most horrid pestilence to ever
be loosed on the world.

   I still see Marge too, occasionally.  She's dating a couple of guys but
she says neither of them are serious.  She never mentioned marriage again.
I found out later why.

   The next member of the posse I ran into was Unique Monique.  As I said,
she was married and had two kids, the latest of which was only eleven
months old when I ran into her at the grocery store.  I was perusing the
ever-growing number of different kinds of breakfast cereal when she turned
the corner, pushing her cart towards me.  We saw each other at the same
time.  I had been back a week but hadn't contacted her.  I thought it might
be a little awkward, her being married and all.

   Gentlemen, one thing you really need to remember is that a woman NEVER
forgets her first man.  That first full sexual experience, whether it goes
really well, or disastrously, is imprinted on her brain until the day she
dies.  In the vast majority of situations, that's all it is ...  a memory
...  but once in a while, it's unfinished business too.  After all the
posse got deflowered, Monique came back for seconds and thirds and so forth
up until the day I left for the Navy.  She loved the way I made her feel,
and I loved making her feel that way.

   When she saw me, and it connected who I was, the look on her face was
classic.

   Monique was a lady.  She didn't squeal or shout or anything.  She pushed
her cart up to me and said "I didn't know you were back in town." Her
posture, and her voice and everything else about her, that a bystander
might have observed, was completely normal ...  just a woman bumping into a
man she was acquainted with.

   But I could see what was in her eyes, and it looked just exactly like I
remembered her eyes looking those times she showed up at our house and said
"Hi Bobby." in that special voice she had that said, between those two
simple words: "Bobby, I need a nice hard prick in me and sooner would be
MUCH better than making me wait."

   We finished walking the aisles together and I admired her baby, which
was a beautiful little boy she had named Theodore.  Her other child, a two
year old, was at her neighbor's house.  The neighbor was another girl we'd
gone to High School with, named Linda, who had gotten married right out of
High School and started having babies of her own.  She opened her house as
a Day Care Center and took care of Monique's daughter, Nicole, during those
few times Monique needed to be gone from the house.  Monique, it turned
out, was a stay-at-home mom, whose husband worked over in Derby at a
natural gas pumping station there.

   Somehow I ended up following Monique home and carrying her groceries in
for her while she took care of little Theodore, who was wet and hungry.  I
put her groceries in the kitchen and the cold stuff in the refrigerator and
when I called out that I was done Monique yelled that she was almost done
and for me not to go anywhere.  Then she walked into the living room, her
upper torso just as naked as the day she was born, with cute little Teddy
firmly attached to a fat dark brown nipple.  He was a noisy eater, I'll
tell you that.  Monique acted like I'd watched her nurse her son every day
since he was born and continued to chat with me about this and that until
she had burped him and his head got all noddy.

   "C'mon" she said, and I followed her to the kids room, where there were
all the things little girls love and a crib for Teddy with toy elves and
such suspended over it and other things like that.  She put him down and
then turned around to face me, her big, milk-filled breasts sticking out at
me like the front bumper of a '56 Buick.

   "I've never cheated on Roger.": she said casually as she bent over,
sliding her slacks down and stepping out of them.

   "As you shouldn't have." I said.  I wanted her to have the opportunity
to be able to say the same thing in about ten minutes.

   "This is different." she said.

   "Oh?" I asked.

   "Yes." she said simply.

   Monique liked to be on top too too, and her breasts leaked all over me,
dripping hot, white milk on my chest until she suggested it would be a lot
less messy if I licked her nipples.  I sucked instead and got mouthfuls of
that warm, sweet offering as she rode my cock in that same languid way we
had made love all those years ago.

   "This feels so good." she said, as if we were having a conversation
about sitting in the sun.

   "What about Roger?" I asked.  I liked what we were doing, and had done
it to a lot of lonely navy wives in one port city or another, but I wasn't
out to wreck any homes.

   She rocked on me and shivered as I sucked her milk.  "I love him and
I'll never leave him, but he wants me to make love to other men."

   "You're kidding." I said, astonished, letting that fat lovely nipple pop
out of my mouth.

   "He's a little wimpy" she said, almost apologetically.  "He says he
likes to feel like his wife is attractive to other men, and that the idea
of seeing me being made love to by another man makes him horny.  He's been
trying to get me to do this for a long time.  I wouldn't do it before, but
now that you're home I think I can make him happy from now on."

   "Oh." I said.  I would never have pegged Monique to be attracted to that
kind of man.

   "Besides" she said, rocking harder and panting.  "Roger already gave me
two beautiful babies."

   She came on my cock and moaned.  "And I never got to have yours."

   Presto.  For the second time in a week a woman was asking me to knock
her up.  I was beginning to be very glad we'd sailed into that hurricane.

   It turned out that Monique had met Roger at a seminar she attended while
she was in college.  He was from back East somewhere and was ...  different
...  from anyone she'd ever met before.  She invited me to dinner a couple
of days after I carried her groceries in for her and introduced me to Roger
as the man that would make his dreams come true.  I had no idea how he'd
react, but Monique didn't seem to be worried at all.  It was as different a
situation as I've ever been in.

   That night I made love to a woman for the first time in my life while
her husband sat in a chair and watched.  It was surreal and I didn't think
at first that I'd be able to actually make Roger's dream come true.  I was
also a little distracted by having to make constant checks on him to make
sure he hadn't gone to get a baseball bat while I lay between his wife's
legs and she urged me to give them their third child.  But when he hauled
out his dick and began whaling on it like there was no tomorrow I realized
he really WAS different in some way that I still don't understand.

   So I forgot about him and set about making one of Monique's dreams come
true.

   I noticed something about Monique while I spurted her full of my semen
in front of her husband.  Her orgasms were different.  When we had made
love in the past she had tight almost controlled orgasms, where she tensed
up and made little mewling sounds of appreciation and joy.  But when Roger
was watching she got loud and wild in her gyrations, thrusting up at me
harder.  At first I thought she was acting, but as time passed I realized
she was actually letting herself go.  She was doing that for Roger -
experiencing something with us both that she couldn't experience with only
one of us present.  When she went wild under me, he went wild in that
chair. In a weird twisted way she loved him and understood him and wanted
him to be happy.  She thought - and she was right as far as I can tell -
that Roger NEEDED that kind of stimulation to get off in a way that was
most pleasurable for him.  I talked about all this with a shrink friend of
mine one time and he hypothesized that Roger had a letch for his mother
(Don't all shrinks think that way?) and that watching Monique and me was
feeding his fantasy of watching his mother and father make love.

   That was a strange relationship.  It still is.  Monique told him in no
uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed to fuck her without a rubber until
she was good and pregnant and that if he didn't like it he needed to
remember that it was all his idea in the first place.  I don't think she
ever told him what she told the girls - that some day she'd have my baby.

   I gained ten pounds going to dinner at Monique's house over the next
month and Roger shook my hand every time I showed up.  In the end Roger was
very happy, and so was Monique.  She had a little girl and they named her
Bobbie Jean.  Roger's mother was named Jean.

   It was a strange relationship.  For that matter it still is, though I
only get invited to dinner every other month or so these days and Monique
has gone back on the pill.  She's still the most unique woman I know.  Her
husband too, for that matter.  Except he's a man.  You know what I mean.

   I went to work for my father and found out that I have a knack for
helping people understand how insurance and annuities and all those kinds
of things can help a family plan for the future so that retirement isn't a
financial drag.  I made a bit of money along the way, though for me, as
long as I had enough to get by on I was pretty much happy.  I thought about
other people's futures a lot more than my own.  Go figure.

   Working with Miss September was interesting.  Donna was happily married,
and didn't say anything about yearning to have my baby or anything like
that.  She was very warm toward me and just as beautiful as ever.  She'd
filled out a little and was more lush looking.  Her attitude in the office
was very professional and I really enjoyed being around her all day.  For
the first couple of months I was getting all the sex any man could want
from Claire, Marge and Monique, so it was easy to just appreciate Donna for
who she was without getting a boner every time I looked at her.  Even
though I got a boner just about every day at one time or another ...  from
looking at her.

   One day Donna came into my office and leaned against the wall with her
arms folded.

   "So ...  how long are you going to delay seeing Robby?" she asked.

   I knew Donna and Robby were still friends.  Donna had mentioned Roberta
several times, in passing conversation, and had told me a few things about
Robby's volleyball team and all that.  I couldn't remember if I'd actually
asked for any of that information or not, and I couldn't understand or
explain why I hadn't gone to see Knobby Robby.  That made me uncomfortable.
My mother still met her every Saturday at noon for lunch, but for some
reason I never went along.

   "Whatever do you mean?" I asked.

   "Well, you've seen everyone except Roberta and Suzy," She put some
uncomfortable emphasis on the word "seen".  She went on "and Suzy is too
busy to be bothered with you right now.  So why haven't you gone to see
Robby?"

   Obviously the posse kept in better touch with each other than I thought
they had.

   "Well ..." I said.  And then I ran out of words.  I didn't actually know
why I had stayed away from Robby.  "I don't know." I finally finished.

   "She knows you're back." said Donna.

   "She does, does she." I stated.  I knew that, of course.  My mother
would have told her.  I was very uncomfortable for some reason.

   "Yes ...  she does." said Donna unhelpfully.

   I looked at Donna, who was sweet and loving and in all ways a person I
would categorize as a friend.

   "I don't know how to act around Robby." I said.

   Donna looked at me like I was some kind of bug or something.  "You've
been friends with Robby since you were a little boy!  What do you mean you
don't know how to act around her?"

   I got exasperated.  "I don't know!" I got grumpy too.  "She told me she
hated me before I left.  She never wrote to me but once, so I thought she
didn't want to have anything to do with me any more."

   "And how many times did you write to her?" asked Miss September.

   "How many times did I write to you?" I asked, thinking I'd score one.  I
couldn't remember, but I knew I'd answered one or two of her letters.

   "Five" she said firmly.

   Had it really been that many?

   "And you wrote to Suzy two times, and to Marge three times, and to
Monique once.  We didn't keep track of Claire's letters.  You treated her
properly."

   "Oh." was all I could manage.

   "You hurt Roberta's feelings Bobby." said Donna in a voice that
suggested I might be responsible for taking food from starving children all
over the world.

   "I seem to be pretty good at that." I agreed miserably.  "I don't
understand it Donna.  I always liked Robby."

   "So how long are you going to punish her?" asked the woman who I wished
would go away and leave me alone now.

   "I'm not punishing her.  She hasn't done anything wrong." I said.

   "That's nice to hear.  Maybe Roberta would like to hear that too." she
suggested.

   "She has to hate me by now." I said.

   "She has a right to." said Donna, getting more and more unhelpful all
the time.

   "Why are you tormenting me?" I complained.

   "Because you NEED to be tormented.  Bobby ...  go see her ...  please?
She deserves that Bobby." Donna had changed her voice in the middle of that
sentence, from accusatory to pleading.

   "Why do YOU care so much about this?" I asked, still trying to dodge her
suggestion.

   "Because I love Robby and I love you and I don't want there to be this
problem." she said.

   "Why dredge up old feelings?" I asked.  "I mean look at you.  You're
happy.  You don't want anything to do with me ...  I mean like we used to
...  you know?"

   "Whatever made you think that?" asked Donna.

   "Well, you're happily married and all that, and you obviously disapprove
of what I've been doing with the others." I said.

   Donna had that "you miserable bug" look back in her eye and she folded
her arms under breasts that had grown a little, and which, occasionally,
showed two very obviously NOT inverted nipples on those breasts under the
silk blouses she liked to wear.

   "You are just as stupid as you were six years ago Bobby Watkins. 
Sometimes I don't think you deserve to be happy!" And with that she turned
and stalked out of my office.  I was left wondering what the hell I had
said that got her so riled up, and what the hell I should do now.

   For the next week none of the women who had invited me into their beds
seemed to have any time at all for me.  I may have been stupid, but I got
the message.  I had to make amends with Robby or I was going to be persona
non gratis, or whatever the hell it is they call somebody who's been cut
off from the rest of the world.

   By the time I showed up at the school, I had been back for two months. I
had thought about going to see Robby at her house, which was a little two
bedroom place on Washington street near the High School that, when I left
for the Navy, had been owned by an old widow woman who routinely yelled at
passing kids to stay out of her flowers.  There had been no flowers in her
yard and everybody thought she was crazy.  I guess she had died, or moved
to a nursing home or whatever, because Robby was living there now.

   But I couldn't work up the courage to face her in private.  I thought
seeing her at school might keep her from yelling at me or anything.  So, at
four in the afternoon I wandered into my old High School, and walked down
the deserted hallway to the gym teachers' office suite.  The men teachers
had offices on one side of a dividing wall, and there was a small office on
the other side of the wall reserved for the girls' gym teacher.  On the
glass were painted letters that spelled out "Miss Simms".  Through the
glass and the open Venetian blinds inside I could see a woman sitting at
the desk, going through papers of some sort.

   I knocked on the door and Robby looked up.  I knew it was Robby because
of the angular features of her face.  But that's all I recognized.  Knobby
Robby wasn't anything near knobby any more.  Six years had brought her at
last to the place where anyone looking at her saw a woman, and not a girl.

   She stared at me for a few seconds and then went back to her papers.

   All I could do was swallow and knock again.

   She looked up again.  Her hair was different somehow.  It was pulled
back in a pony tail, like it always had been, but it was longer and darker
blond.  She was tanned, as I remembered her, but there was more flesh on
her face.  I realized with shock she was wearing lipstick, and her eyebrows
were darker and more pronounced than when I last saw her.  She got up, came
to the door ...

   And pulled the cord that shut the blinds.

   The door did NOT open.  There was a heavy clicking noise from the knob,
though.

   I tried the knob.  It was locked.  Miss Simms was, indeed, unhappy with
me.

   After all it had taken me to actually make myself go there ...  I got
mad.  I turned and went back down the hall to another room I was familiar
with.  The door there was open, as it almost always had been in my memory.
I looked in and saw good old Mister Jackson, the school custodian, who had
been there when my parents went to this school.

   "Hey Mister Jackson" I said.  He looked up and gave me that look that
all such men have cultivated that means "I should remember you, but there
have been so many people who came and went through that door that I really
won't even try." Instead, he smiled and said "How can I help you?"

   "We can't seem to get the door open down at Miss Simms' office.  It's
locked." I said it like I had a right to get into that office and was just
temporarily obstructed.  I learned how to do that while I was in the Navy.
Act like you're doing something official and nobody asks any questions.

   "That's odd." said Mister Jackson.  "Robby never locks her door."

   Mister Jackson called Miss Simms "Robby"?!

   "Yes ...  well, it's locked now." I said, putting a little impatience in
my voice.

   "OK, I've got the key around here somewhere." he said.  He got up,
pulled a wad of keys off of a clip on his belt and went through them. 
"Here we go." he said, choosing one.

   I followed him down the hall and watched as he inserted the key in the
lock and twisted it.  He pushed the door open and there was Miss Simms,
still sitting at her desk, going through those papers.  She looked up.

   "Oh ...  sorry Robby" said Mr.  Jackson, showing respect to a woman who
was forty years younger than he was.  "This youngster here said he needed
in here."

   Me?  A youngster?  I was a trained killer who shaved every single day!

   "It's OK Horace." said Miss Simms in a voice every teacher learns to use
somehow.  "He's a little dim witted and doesn't know how to properly make
an appointment to visit a teacher.  I suppose I can give him a few
minutes."

   I got a look from "Horace" and he turned back to Robby.  "Well, if
you're sure.  You want me to call Mister Robinson?" he asked.

   Mister Robinson was the Vice Principal.  He dealt with unruly students
and other unwanted problems.

   Robby stood up and smiled a tight little smile.  "No, that's OK Horace.
Thank you.  I'll deal with this." I didn't like the way she said the word
"deal".

   "Horace" gave me a last look that suggested I'd better behave myself if
I knew what was good for me.  The poor guy was so decrepit that it probably
took him ten minutes to work up the energy to change a roll of toilet
paper, but his shoulders squared up and there was a dark look in his eyes
that communicated that he was willing to ...  take measures ...  if he was
called on to do so.  Then, still straight, he shuffled off down the hall.

   I stepped into the office before Robby could get up and close the door
again.

   But I had nothing to say.  I was paralyzed.  I was a five year old in
front of the teacher.  I never felt more helpless in my entire life.

   "Uh ...  hi." I croaked.

   I stared at Miss Simms.  She had breasts ...  and hips ...  and muscles.
She was, without a doubt, beautiful in a "strong woman" kind of way, with
that obvious, visible confidence that makes rapists choose another victim.

   She put her hands on her hips.  "What are YOU looking at?" she said. 
She still knew how to deliver that line perfectly.

   My anger had melted away, and my courage with it.  I looked around and
saw straight backed chairs lined up on the wall across from her desk.  I
sat in one of them.  I looked at the floor in horror.

   I had just had an epiphany.

   Truth had just smote me like the sun smites your eyes when you walk out
of a dark room into the open sunlight.  I don't know if it was the way she
looked, or the sound of her voice, or her stance or just what it was, but I
had just realized why I was so completely useless at that moment.

   I was in love with Roberta Simms.

   Not only that ...  I had ALWAYS been in love with Roberta Simms.

   I had heard about "love" all my life, and talked to countless sailors
about how it felt to be in love.  I had, a couple of times in my life -
usually involving a naked woman - said "I love you" or words to that
effect, even though I hadn't really meant them.  I might have THOUGHT I
meant them, but I now realized I had never actually understood those words
in the past.  And, I had heard those words from various women too, no small
number of them in Claire's posse.

   And even from Roberta Simms.

   Except that back then I thought it was just newly fucked hormones saying
it, and not Robby.  I imagine that any time one of the posse told me she
loved me, or that she had loved me for a long time, I just thought it
carried the same meaning as "I just love popcorn" does at the movies.

   But now ...  I understood that what I had felt ...  but not recognized
...  had been real, and deep, and a part of my essence.  This woman owned a
piece of me deep inside.

   And the realization of the fact that I was in love with Robby, and my
memories of the way I'd treated her ..  back then ...  and since then ...
well, they just crushed my heart like a steamroller going over an injured
puppy that can't crawl out of the way.

   I was horrified.  If I'd have had a gun it might have been messy.

   I know this sounds a little over the top to you out there in
reader-land. But the fact was that I suddenly knew I was in love with a
woman who would never love me back ...  hated me right then, in fact ... 
and with good reason, like Donna had said.

   I saw the tears hitting the tile floor before I felt their hot trail
down my cheeks.  I felt panic rushing through my veins like fire.  I had to
get out of there.

   It was about then that I heard the door next to me close solidly.  I
also heard the lock being activated again, scraping closed like a massive
lock on a heavy cell door being shut by a disheveled turnkey in an old
dungeon.  I realized my shoulders were shaking as I tried to sob without
making any noise.

   I kept staring at the floor and heard the desk chair creak and move on
its rollers as she sat back down.  I had let my hair grow after finding out
I would actually be getting out of the Service and enough of it hung down
in the front that I could peek through it.  Miss Simms was ...  again ...
looking through those damn papers.

   She was being kind, of all things ...  giving me a chance to get control
of myself.  It just made me feel even worse.  She should have screamed at
me.  I wouldn't have minded a bit.  I'd even have welcomed her wrath.

   But she just sat there, looking beautiful and cool and adult.

   I took a ragged breath.  Once I did that I had the energy to stand up
and turn toward the door.

   "I'm sorry." My voice sounded strange to me.  I realized my mouth was
dry as a bone, and wasn't working right.

   "What?" came Robby's voice.

   I swallowed.  "I said I'm sorry." I repeated, louder.  I reached for the
lock lever.

   "Sit down." said Miss Simms in her authoritative teacher's voice. 
"We're not done here."

   My head swiveled.  "I said I was sorry.  And I meant it.  Can I go now?"

   "What, exactly, are you sorry for?" asked Miss Simms.

   "Don't make me do this Robby" I pleaded.  "I said I was sorry.  Let's
just leave it at that, OK?"

   "Sit DOWN!" ordered Miss Simms.

   OK, I deserved this.  SHE deserved this.  I sat.

   "Look at me." said Miss Simms.

   I peeked through the hair in front of my eyes again.  Miss Simms looked
like that hurricane looked before we sailed right into its teeth.

   "You are SO gutless!" she snapped.

   "Yes" I agreed with her.

   "And THOUGHTLESS!  You are SO THOUGHTLESS!"

   "Yes" I agreed again.

   "And you have the morals of a mink!" she growled.

   I didn't think that even needed any agreement.  It was obvious.

   "And STUPID!  You're unbelievably DENSE!"

   It sounded like this wasn't going to end real soon.  But I actually felt
a little better.  She was right.  And I deserved it, after all.

   I finally was able to look right at her.  "Guilty as charged." I
managed.

   "So WHY ...  tell me WHY ...  do I still love you?" Her voice had real
question in it.

   "Beg your pardon?" I asked ...  stupidly, I might add.  She hadn't
stuttered, and my ears didn't flap.

   "Why do I still love you, even though you treat me horribly, are stupid
as a block of wood and have the morals of an alley cat?" She said that very
clearly.

   "You love me?" I asked.  Remember, I was dense.  She had said so and she
was absolutely correct.

   She shook her head sadly and looked up at the ceiling.  "There must have
been a hundred men - NICE men ...  POLITE men ...  HANDSOME men - who have
begged me to go out with them, who offered me a NORMAL life, a RESPECTABLE
life ..."

   She muttered that last part and trailed off.  Then she fastened those
diamond eyes right back on me.

   "But OH NO, I have to be in love with ...  YOU!" She sounded thoroughly
disgusted.

   "You LOVE me?!" I said like some kind of puppet.

   "I've always loved you, you idiot!" she said, exasperation leaking into
her voice.

   "But I've always loved YOU!" I blurted.

   "Oh really?" She said that much too sweetly.

   "I mean I didn't know it then, but I realized it a few minutes ago and
...  you LOVE ME?" It was finally sinking in that my life might not
actually be over.

   Miss Simms came over to me and stood inches away from me ...  blocking
my escape, I might add.

   "Kiss me." she said.  She said it just like she'd said it at the Creek,
so many years ago.

   "Are you sure?" I asked.  I was still reeling.  A little kernel of pure,
unadulterated joy had sparked to life deep in my gut and threatened to
explode into violent, raging flames that no fire department on earth could
even hope to make a dent in.

   "Do I have to call Horace back in here?" she asked with that too sweet
voice.

   I kissed her.

   She kissed me back.  And she MEANT it!

   Then she pushed me away.  "Something made me wait for you.  Donna told
me to wait for you.  They ALL told me to wait for you.  I thought they were
insane.  I just KNEW I was just as much a fool as you are, that you'd never
come back.  And here you are, like a bad penny ...  like a rock in my shoe
that I can't find and get rid of."

   Then she kissed me again.

   You know that fantasy every boy has to take the gorgeous teacher on her
own desk?

   Well, it wasn't quite like that.

   Remember how I told you she reacted well to the cave man routine?  It
must have seeped into her bones or something.  Actually, she took ME on her
own desk.  I really wish I could remember that whole ...  um ...  incident
...  better.  I have a dim memory of being shoved here and there, and of my
clothes flying off into corners, and growling.  I do remember big, pink
nippled breasts, that I know I put my mouth all over and the complete lack
of hair where I expected there to be some, and of clasping tight pussy
hugging my outrageously stiff prick.  I remember a few words, chief among
them "Oh Bobby I've waited so long for this ...  why did you make me wait
so long?"

   There is one other thing I remember with crystal clarity about what
happened in Miss Simms' office that afternoon.  I remember her hand
sweeping those damned papers she had been so interested in off the desk. 
They fluttered everywhere, like snow as they settled to the floor.  I
remember the immense satisfaction of feeling that I was more important than
those papers after all.

   But the rest is a blur that was eaten almost completely by those raging
flames of joy that consumed me that afternoon in Miss Simms' office at
Junktown High.

   Oh, sure, I've relived that scene countless times since then - not in
the office, of course.  And each time, whether it's in our marriage bed, in
that little house on Washington Street, or in the three houses we moved
into after that as her flat, well-muscled belly grew with child after
child, that joy consumed me over and over again as I shared something
precious and irreplaceable that I'd almost missed out on.

   The whole posse was in the wedding, of course.  And, of course, Claire
was the Maid of Honor.  Who else, right?  We didn't get to take much of a
honeymoon.  The wedding took place right in the middle of volleyball season
and I found out I wasn't the only thing important to my new wife.  I
complained about it a little bit that first night we stayed in a cozy bed
and breakfast place up in the mountains.  We only had three days planned
there, with a little skiing, thrown in between really strenuous activities
in bed.  I had just tried to actually fertilize my wife's egg for probably
the fourth time in the ten hours we'd been there and complained that I
needed more time than just three days to ensure success.

   "Nonsense" she said happily, panting slightly as she sat on top of me.
She said she liked that position most, since that was the first way she'd
felt my prick firing off in her.  "We have the rest of our lives to make
babies."

   She ground her clit against my pubic bone, working up to another orgasm.
She'd had ten or twelve to my four.  It just wasn't fair.  Women have such
an advantage over men.

   "Besides, I have other interests than just you, you know." she said,
making it clear with her motions that the only thing she was concentrating
on at that particular moment was ...  me.  "I can't spend ALL my time in
bed with you." She rocked her way through another orgasm and then slowed
down just a little, still rubbing.  "We need to talk about the girls." she
said.

   I wasn't sure I was ready for this conversation.  During the two weeks
it had taken to arrange a wedding, every time I brought up the other women
in the posse and tried to apologize for my mink-like behavior, all she ever
said was "I don't want to talk about it.  We'll discuss that after we're
married."

   And ...  after that wild time in her office, she wouldn't let me near
her naked ...  until after the wedding.  Neither would any of the other
women, not that I tried or anything.  They just made it clear that my
attentions were no longer welcome.

   "What's to talk about?" I asked in my most subservient husbandly voice.

   "You need to save a little for the others.  They still want me to share,
you know."

   "Beg your pardon?" I gasped as her pussy started milking me again.

   "They saved you for me." she said, rocking harder.  "They all wanted
you, but they saved you for me." she panted.  "So it's only right that I
share a little ...  every once in a while ...  you know."

   I didn't know.  I didn't even suspect.  I tried to concentrate, but it
was getting harder and harder ...  no pun intended.

   "You'd let me?  With them?" I gasped.

   "We've shared you this long" she grunted, her pussy going into
overdrive. "What could a few more years matter?  They'll get tired of you
sooner or later.  You're VERY exasperating, you know." She had ANOTHER
orgasm.  When that one wound down she lay down on top of me and just
squeezed the spunk right out of me.

   As I tried for the FIFTH time to make a baby in my wonderful, beautiful,
loving Knobby Robby she whispered in my ear.

   "And you're WAY too much man for me to handle alone."

   So ...  there you have it.  Fifteen years later I have eight children
that I KNOW are mine - five with Robby, two with Claire and one with
Monique.  Shirley won't admit her son is mine, but his baby pictures look
like she stole them from my mother's picture albums.

   Donna had another baby nine months after the honeymoon.  After I got
back to work I found out she'd been waiting to see if I proposed to Roberta
before she decided to grace me with her pussy again.  She was the one who
asked Robby to share after the honeymoon.  She insists she made love to her
husband as often as she made love to me after that.

   Marge is the only one who hasn't popped a baby since I got out of the
Navy and that doesn't seem to be from lack of trying.  Claire actually had
the gall to ask me why I wasn't trying hard enough to get Marge pregnant!

   And me?  Well, I lost the ten pounds Monique's dinners put on me, and
ten more to boot.  I got a little more rest when everybody turned up gravid
with child, though after the babies were born everybody seemed to want to
be pregnant again.  Knowing what women go through to have a child I just
don't understand that.

   But, Robby told me last night that at least three of them have told her
that they won't be needing my services much longer.

   I sure wish she'd tell me which three, though.

   So, what are the things I learned along the way to becoming a cocksman?

   Well, I learned that most women, despite all their primping and all
that, don't REALLY think they're attractive, or at least they believe that
some part of them is patently UN-attractive.  Because of that they really
love being convinced that they are, in fact, attractive and sexy.

   I learned that you can almost always find something about a woman to
appreciate and compliment.  They don't want lies.  They want you to
honestly like something about them.  And it's not always something about
their body!

   I learned that if you find a way to honestly care about a woman, she can
tell, and she'll appreciate that more than almost anything else you do.

   I learned that women want to be in charge sometimes, and that sometimes
they want you to be in charge.  Wisdom is being able to tell the difference
and adapt.

   I learned that women are just like men, in that they have fears, and
hopes, and dreams.  I learned that, if you play honestly to the hopes and
dreams, and downplay the fears, it will, more often than not, get you laid,
laid often, and laid well.

   I learned that if you take care of a woman's sexual needs first, and
then worry about your own, she will do almost anything to help you handle
those needs.

   And, finally, I learned that being a cocksman isn't all velvety pussy
walls wrapped around your spurting cock.  It takes a lot of work and
patience and even some self sacrifice.  When it comes to being a cocksman,
the old adage is truer than ever: What goes around ...  comes around.

   And, when you've learned all that ...  I think that's what actually
MAKES you a cocksman.










   
