Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Carl and Beth Do Sex Ed in Middle School

   by peregrinf

   Copyright(c) 2010 by peregrinf

   ------ Description: WARNING: CHAPTER 8 CONTAINS SOME MALE HOMOSEXUALITY.
Beth Naked in School was one of those occasions when everything fell into
place perfectly.  To maintain that quality has been slow going.  Good
writing is like that.  Sometimes it just takes time.  New readers, I
suggest you at least read Beth Naked in School.  Even better, read the
whole trilogy; in order, "Carl Naked in School", "Carl Naked in School -
Beth's Story", and "Beth Naked in School".
Codes: mf ff boy gi mm cons reluc gay les het fant bro sis safe oral
anal mastrb pett toys food exhib voy slow caution sch

   ------ Chapter 6

   While I stood in the cafeteria line I scanned the room for Patterson, my
height giving me the advantage over the dwarves.  I was coming to the
conclusion that being tall was cool in many ways.

   He wasn't with his usual tribe of chest beaters, so I widened my search.

   Missy tugged at my arm.  "Who are you looking for?"

   "Patterson."

   I kept looking, and came to the conclusion he was AWOL -- absent without
lunch.  Usually he was one of the first in line, his tray piled high with
the funkiest food he could find.  If they hadn't eliminated corn syrup from
our menu he would have kept half the farmers in Iowa in Cadillacs.

   "Oh, him," she grumbled.  "Why waste your time?"

   "You probably couldn't see him in class."

   "Not really.  What do you think that meat thing they're serving is?"

   "Better not to ask," I answered.  "Look, I'm just going to grab a salad
and a milk.  I've got something to do."

   "Oh.  Can I help?"

   I wrenched my mind away from Patterson, and gathered Missy into my arms,
giving her a hug.  I almost gave her a kiss on the lips, but thought better
of it.  The rumor mill was going to churn enough just from the hug.  I
hardly noticed Mike Collins just beyond her in line.  There was something
about his expression...

   But somehow Patterson seemed more important to me, if you can believe
that.

   "Not this time.  Why don't you see how Mickey is doing?  She was paired
with A.  J., of all people."

   "Oh wow!  I wish I'd seen that!  It musta been like a Chihuahua trying
to make it with a great Dane."

   "More like a kitten with a horny lioness.  Try to find out what she
thinks of him.  That ought to keep her talking all the way through lunch.
I'll see you later.  We'll talk about..." I sorta tried to semaphore with
my eyeballs in Mike's direction in a way he wouldn't notice, but the line
had moved and she'd already started sidling away to follow him.

   I jumped the line, grabbing one of the salads.  Then I slipped my arm
through between two 6th graders to grab a milk, had an idea and added a
chocolate milk and a sandwich on white bread to my stash.  Long arms are
really useful.

   Juggling it all, I jumped the rest of the line to pay, ignoring the
complaints from behind me.

   If Patterson wasn't here, at least I knew where to look.  As I searched
I wrestled with what I should say.  In the end, having no bright ideas, I
decided that nothing might be best, if he even let me near him.

   Naturally he was in the third place I looked.  Isn't that always the
way?

   But, well duh.  The first place was one everyone knew about, and you
didn't go there unless you needed a nicotine fix.  Patterson had his flaws,
but cigarettes weren't one of them.

   The second was almost as popular.  If it were a high school hangout it
probably would have been paved with condoms, but most of us tweens were
only up to tactile explorations.  As it was it smelled pretty yucky.  Even
tweens secrete.

   And, of course, once you found what you were looking for in the third
place, you stopped looking!

   I always thought of the third was my personal private place, but I guess
I was wrong.  When I was down in the dumps, or wrestling with a problem,
just trying to get my head straight, it was where I'd go, too small for a
crowd, with a nice view.  It was one of those spaces created by architects
when they can't get things to fit together quite right, a nook in the wall
where the new gym joined the rest of the school.

   Taking a round about way, I saw him there, from a safe distance, and
dithered for a moment.  What if he was really crazy, or a sex maniac or
something?

   But he needed help, that was certain, and who better than The Stick to
offer it?

   He reminded me of a gerbil I'd gotten at a school fair, years ago.  I'd
never owned a pet before, but I learned from Henry -- that's what I named
the Gerbil -- when an animal is backed into a corner, even if it's just a
gerbil, it's best to leave 'em an escape route.  That coulda saved me some
stitches.

   But Patterson was a lot bigger than a gerbil.  I took confidence from
the fact that I was a good six inches taller than he was, and could
probably outrun him, and trudged up toward him, coming up from an angle,
not trying to sneak or anything.

   He was sitting on the ground, his knees up, staring at a patch of grass
between his grubby sneakers.  By the looks of the bare patch, he'd been
there a while, plucking at the grass.

   Without a word I set the sandwich and milk in front of him, just within
his reach, like I was dealing with a stray dog, then sat down beside him,
about a foot away, and stared out over the athletic fields.  The sun felt
good on my face and arms, the grass soft and cool under my butt.  My legs
folded tailor fashion I was careful to push my skirt down to cover myself.
It formed a nice nest for my plastic salad container.

   At least he didn't yell or scream at me, or call me "The Stick." Not
that that would have upset me.  After all, I am The Stick.  I am tall.  I
am slender.  I am sexy, but not so sexy that I threatened or scared him, I
hoped.

   I unwrapped my salad, opened my milk, and only then remembered I'd
forgotten one of those little plastic forks.

   Shit!

   So I left the packet of dressing off and started eating my salad with my
fingers.  A few minutes later Patterson picked up the sandwich I'd brought
him.  Unwrapping it, he checked the stuffings, picked the lettuce and
tomato out and tossed them away, and began eating the ham and cheese,
pausing to open the chocolate milk.

   "Got a straw?" he asked.

   My mouth full, I just shook my head.  I'd forgotten that, too, and was
drinking straight from the container.

   He shrugged, and slurped straight from the little plastic jug, not
looking at me.

   So, there we sat, just the two of us, eating, staring off into the
distance, while I wondered what was going on inside him, but not about to
break the silence.

   At least that way I wouldn't need stitches in my finger or, in
Patterson's case, elsewhere.

   When I finished I bundled up my litter, and wordlessly asked for his,
and he handed it to me, and I picked the lettuce and tomato out of the
grass and added them to the wad.

   When the silence had stretched to the breaking point, I wiped my fingers
on the grass and got to my feet.

   "If you want to talk," I offered, "I'm a good listener."

   That was something I'd learned from my mom, how to listen.  She was good
at it, not like some moms I've known.

   "Just let me know.  Drop a note in my locker, if you want, and tell me
where and when."

   And I left him there to wrestle with his personal demons, wondering if
maybe Carl might know something about him, and looking forward for some
face time with Missy.

   Only I couldn't find her!  Or Mike!!  Mickey said she hadn't seen Missy,
and went on chattering with her cronies, probably comparing cup sizes, as
they finished their pudding.

   Through some horrible scheduling error, Missy and I didn't share any
afternoon classes, so we'd arranged various rendezvous points where we
could touch base between bells.  Only she wasn't there, at any of them,
through the whole afternoon!

   I didn't worry about her after she'd missed our first rendezvous. 
Sometimes classes ran over, or teachers wanted to talk.  But after the
second I began to be concerned.  I'd heard no rumors of food poisoning or
anything.  But when she didn't show at our lockers at the end of the day I
became seriously worried, thinking she'd had to leave school because of
trouble at home or something.

   I asked around a bit.

   That was a mistake.  Someone said they'd already left, holding hands! 
"They?"

   "She was with Mike Collins."

   A sick knot formed in my stomach.  I was so upset I didn't even mentally
drop a quarter in the kitchen jar.

   I had to walk home alone for the first time in I don't remember how
long. We'd shared that walk since grade school, talking, laughing,
sometimes just walking silently together, sharing nothing more than each
other's company.

   The walk seemed twice as long.  I'd never felt so alone before in my
entire life.  It was like a piece of me was missing.

   It was a slow trudge up to my room.  I didn't even stop by the kitchen
for my usual refueling of milk and cookies.

   Mike and Missy?  That bitch!  My BFF!  I'd LOVED her!  And I loved Mike,
and so what if we'd never even talked.  She knew how I felt.  How could
she!

   I dropped my back pack on my bed and turned and caught sight of myself
in the mirror.

   I was -- I was -- SLUMPING!  The Stick had wilted!  This Would Not Do. I
remembered Kathy Powers' exhortation to stand tall.

   With a wrench I pulled my shoulders back and stiffened my spine as I
began to remove my clothes, reminding myself that I am The Stick.  I am
Tall.  I am Slender.  I am Sexy, and that fat little bitch Missy is just
jealous and stole my boyfriend (to be) to get back at me.

   Surely it was a mistake, a miscue.  It had been someone else they'd
seen. Missy had been delayed by unforeseen circumstances, or perhaps called
home for a family emergency.  I hoped it was nothing serious.

   I could call her, but something made me reject that idea.  Maybe she'd
call me, or email me, or something.  Better not to intrude if there's
problems at home, after all.  Email?  No, if there's a problem she's busy
dealing with it.

   Once naked, I let my hands slide up my torso to my nipples, feeling them
stiffen from the attention, feeling the swellings there.  I was getting
boobs!  I was sure of it.  The Stick was getting curves.  The Stick was
going to be even sexier.

   I started to reach for the phone before I remembered, I couldn't tell
Missy!

   Missy and Mike.  Mike and Missy.  It was supposed to be Mike and ME and
Missy!

   Get a grip, I told myself.  It's a fluke, and aberration.  Think of
something else.

   I turned my mind to the problem of Patterson.  It wasn't easy, but I was
really worried about him.  Oh, he was a dork, a snide little shit, but
still, he was human -- barely.

   And how did he get chosen for the sex ed class with the hang-ups he
obviously had?  The whole mystery of how the Dirty Dozen had been assembled
puzzled me.  It was the most bizarre assemblage conceivable -- the
youngest, brightest, shyest geek along with the most sexually precocious
female, for example.  And how about roly-poly, sweet, naive Missy that
everyone loved, and a long drink of water like me?

   What about Bill, with his awful stutter, and Maria Sanchez, with her
sweet dark eyes, and take-no-prisoners soccer style.  Maybe half my size,
she'd come in on me when we'd been scrimmaging at practice and I'd gone
flying while she raced away with the ball, and ever since I'd been glad she
was on my team.

   The class was ethnically diverse -- the two 6th Grade girls were,
respectively, Hispanic and Oriental, and 7th grader Terrell Ford was, as
they say, a person of color.  In terms of religion I only knew that Mickey
was Roman Catholic.  Most of us didn't worry about what God we prayed to
before tests.  There are no atheists in a test room.

   But that only made sense.  Our school district was diverse.  No way
could The Dirty Dozen possibly represent the whole school.

   I kept coming back to the question of why me?  And what was the goal of
this whole exercise?  It was a pilot project, but a pilot project for what?
Surely they didn't intend to expand the class to include the whole student
body.  There weren't enough teachers in the universe to maintain control of
that many naked tweens!

   As to what the parental cohort would think if that, well...

   I was mystified, and I wanted to do something for Patterson, but for
that I needed more information.  It was time for some answers from someone
who knew.

   Besides, I was lonely.

   I rapped on Carl's door.  "Hey, bro, you busy?"

   I could see he wasn't.  He was lying on his bed, on his back, reading
some car magazine, while Princess Leah looked down on his nakedness from
the ceiling.  With Beth to boff I wondered why he kept Jabba the Hut's
slave hanging around.  Inertia, probably.

   "Come on in," he invited, setting the book aside and folding his hands
behind his head.  It gave a nice lift to his chest.

   "Thanks." I plunked myself down in his swivel chair and leaned back. 
The pseudo leather was cold against my naked back and butt.  Debating how
to open the conversation I swiveled back and forth, then gave a kick to
make the chair spin around completely.

   "What do you know about Patterson?" I asked as Carl swung into view. 
Another kick to keep spinning.

   "Not much," he admitted.  "He's being raised by his mom, I know.  Don't
know what happened to his dad.  Something wrong?"

   "You saw him in today's class." I gave another kick to keep spinning.  I
liked his chair, and hoped I'd inherit it when he went off to college.

   Then I thought of not having my brother around and felt a pang.

   "He was all knotted up." I went on spinning the chair.  "Couldn't even
look at me, wouldn't let me help him out of his clothes, of course." I gave
the chair another spin.  "He would have skipped lunch if I hadn't tracked
him down with a sandwich and milk."

   "That was nice of you, considering his attitude earlier."

   I shrugged.  "He's in pain.  I ate with him, outside, but we didn't talk
or anything." I was getting dizzy, so I stopped spinning the chair, and
tilted back, looking at Carl, remembering how we had been before he'd eaten
me out, looking but not really seeing each other, and what had happened
when we really did.

   Ooops!  Maybe that was a mistake.  But I didn't stop looking, really
seeing, even as my body reacted.  I was fascinated by his cock.  It made my
mouth water.

   "Probably the best thing you could have done for him," Carl observed. 
"I wouldn't have expected any less from you, either."

   "Whadda ya mean?" I wasn't sure that was a compliment or an insult, a
little disgruntled that his body wasn't responding to mine as I was to his.

   "You care about people.  It's one of the things I love about you."

   That was enough to make me blush.  "Is that why I was chosen for the
class?"

   "I can't tell you that."

   I was getting a wicked idea, a way to get him to talk.  And besides
that, I needed to be cuddled.  I hadn't realized how much Missy and I just
cuddled sometimes.  I was really gonna miss that.  It wasn't anything
sexual, except, of course, for last night.  It was just the comfort of a
warm body against mine.

   I casually toyed with one of my tits, looking down at it as if I were
examining it.  The little knob responded eagerly to my attentions.  I think
they were getting more sensitive, too.  Carl's eyes were drawn to my
fingers, of course.  I was getting good at drawing attention.

   "What can you tell me?" I asked, tweaking my tit.

   "Nothing.  I told you that."

   I plucked at my nipple, enjoying the little sparks that set off inside
me.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Carl twitch every time I did
it, his cock stirring slowly.

   "Nothing?" I pinched my titty and bit back a gasp.

   "Nothing." He moved his hands down to clasp them over his groin, his
eyes still fixed on my hands as I toyed with both tits now.

   Then I stretched, a real, honest, very sexual stretch, from my
fingertips to my legs, my toes, my legs spreading, opening toward him as I
slouched back in the chair.  I licked my lips.  I was The Stick.  I was
Tall.  I was Slender.  I was SEXY!  And I knew exactly what I was doing,
and what I was going to do.

   Time for some payback, and oh, was I going to enjoy it.

   I hoped he would, too.

   I got to my feet, and I swear I felt like a lioness stalking her prey --
not that I really have any way of knowing how a lioness feels, of course,
but I felt like one.

   It took one step from the chair to the foot of his bed.  I leaned,
rested my knees against the bed.  I was still toying with both my tits. 
They were so swollen they almost hurt, a nice hurt.

   Leaning, I crawled forward, my knees straddling his feet, my hands his
knees.  He was looking down the arch formed by my legs, my arms, and my
body -- all along my naked, slender body, with its aroused tits and bare,
hairless pussy, hovering over him.  I glanced down, cheered to see that
gravity was tugging at my boobs.

   He gulped.  "What are..."

   "I bet I can get you to tell me." I crawled forward, my knees
deliberately brushing the outsides of his calves to give that delicious
skin-to-skin contact.

   "I don't think..." His hands, right under my face now, weren't really
doing much at concealing his swelling hard-on.

   "I think it's payback time," I answered, smacking my lips.

   "Now, Dee!"

   I looked up at him, and smiled a predatory smile.  Oh I was loving this!
Just the anticipation of what I was about to do had me juicing.  It was
something new for me, and exciting!  I cocked my eyebrow at him, marveling
at how useful that talent was.

   "All you have to do is say 'no, '" I reminded him softly, to make sure
he knew what I was planning.

   He gulped again.  "Uh -- what are you going to do?" He was sweating.

   "I told you, it's payback.  It's nothing that you haven't already done
to me," I replied softly, sliding my hands up his thighs.  "All you have to
do is say 'no.'"

   Oh, please don't say it!  I thought.  Don't you DARE say it!

   Oh, I was more than a little scared, I admit.  But I was also curious,
and hungry, and, oh, I was in a terrible tangle over Missy, and needed this
so much.

   "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked nervously.

   I teased his hands aside to expose his lovely hard cock.  "You know I've
never done it before, if that's what you're asking.  But I'm sure you can
correct any errors I might be making, if that's what you're worrying
about," I whispered.

   Oh, I was scared, and excited, and oh how I was looking forward to this!

   I touched his cock!  I'd never done that before, had I?  I was so horny
and anxious I couldn't remember for sure.  It was hot, and hard, and
surprisingly heavy.

   Lifting one leg I wedged his legs open with my knee, straddling his
other leg, and settled back, loving the feeling of his warm, strong, hairy
leg against my naked ass and crotch.

   I slipped one hand under his balls, and he spread his free leg wider so
I could fondle them.  The rounded masses rolled across my fingers in their
warm little sack.  I touched behind that sack.  Scratched.  You might have
thought I'd lit a fire under him the way his cock responded.  It didn't
twitch, it jumped, and he groaned!

   Gently, I lifted his hard-on up from his belly, tilted it vertical,
wrapped my fingers around the base of it, and bent to lick it, slowly, from
base to tip.  It was the most delicious Popsicle in the world.  I let my
tongue curl over the sensitive head.

   "Ohhh god," he groaned, his hand caressing my hair.  "Are you sure you
want to do this?"

   "Yum!" I answered.  Then I backed off a little.  "All you have to do is
say 'no, '" I reminded him again, the way he had me.

   "NO -- I mean YES!  Oh God, you vixen!"

   I let my feet slide back, bracing myself so my mouth hovered over his
glans, scrubbing my oozing cunt against his leg.  "Are you sure you can't
tell me why I was chosen for the class?"

   "I -- I really can't.  Really, I can't!"

   I breathed on his seeping cock-head, my lips so close he could feel it,
so close I could feel the heat from it.

   "So you do know.  Are you SURE you can't tell me?" My lips actually
brushed the very tip of his dick as I talked.

   "They made me promise!"

   "A promise under coercion is not valid under our code," I reminded him.
I was talking to his dick like it was Marvin Brubaker's microphone.

   "I mean I -- I made a promise!  Honest, I did.  There was no coercion."

   Oh shit!  He would have to say that!

   "Oh." I subsided, but only a little bit, letting his dick paint my cheek
with his juices.  That argument eliminated bribery or extortion, whichever
this was.  In our house, promises are sacred.

   Of course that whole discussion was totally silly, and we both knew it,
or at least I did.  My pussy wasn't the only thing that was watering at the
meal in front of me.  Oh no, my mouth wanted this at least as much as he
did, and my pussy was all lubed up to go along for the ride on his kneecap,
if that was all it could get.

   And I knew we were both beyond the point of no return.  Sister or not, I
was The Stick.  I was Tall.  I was Slender.  I was Sexy as all get out and
I was horny, and I knew he was as horny as a goat, and I was available and
willing.  Willing?  Eager!

   "Oh I am going to enjoy this," I assured him hotly.  "Just tell me if
I'm not doing it right." I let my lips close around his cock, and let my
tongue bathe the rubbery head of it.  My head was awash in his musky scent.

   "Oh, Dee!" It was as much a sigh as a moan, and his hands gently stroked
my head, fingers touched my ears as I slid my mouth down on his hot meat.
"No teeth," he gasped.

   "Sorry," I mumbled around his shaft.  Oh, he tasted so good, he felt so
good in my mouth, hot and hard and alive against my tongue, I took him in
until I felt on the verge of gagging before backing off.

   "Mmmmmmmmm," I purred as I drew back, letting his dick slide out along
my tongue.  Where was that spot?  Oh, yes, that place on the bottom, where
his glans joined his shaft.  I let my tongue tease there, and was rewarded
by a pulse from his cock, and a wave of fragrant, flavorful precum.

   I took him deep in my mouth again, as I let my naked pussy hump his leg.
With my fingers I stroked his shaft where my lips couldn't reach.  I very
slowly began bobbing my head, up and down, up and down, sometimes slipping
aside to let me nibble the flank of his dork.

   Each time I took him in I went down until I gagged a little, then drew
up so only the head of his dick was in my lips and my tongue swirled over
the rubbery knob, lapping up his delicious juices before I went down again,
each time a little bit further as I got used to it, learned to quench my
gag reflex.

   His hips began to rise, his hard-on inviting itself further into my
mouth and I eagerly obliged, taking him farther than ever.  We established
a mutually enjoyable rhythm, his hips rising as my head dipped, my whole
body in tune with his as I straddled and hugged his leg, rubbing my oozing
cunt on him, painting him with my juices.  I was squirming my hips to scrub
my naked pussy against him.

   He began to move faster, his hands holding my head, not forcing himself
deeper, but guiding me, his fingers toying with my ears.  My EARS.  Oh yes,
they were an erogenous zone, all right.

   The hand holding his balls ventured further, found the puckered dimple
of his anus, scratched it delicately.

   "Oh!  Watch out!  I'm gonna!  I'm gonna!  Oh Dee, I'm..."

   If he expected me to back off he had another think coming.  I am The
Stick.  The Stick doesn't back off.

   I drew on his meat and I felt it pulse, felt his groin spasm, knew it
was coming, had a brief flare of panic.  Oh my!

   A hot spurt of cum erupting against the back of my mouth, made me cough.

   Then I was going with the flow, my own cumming washing me along.  Thanks
to my own orgasm I was making funny puffing, mewing sounds through my nose
as he flooded my mouth with his hot cum.

   It was salty, yes, and a little bitter, and my head was engulfed by its
lovely musky stink and I felt a sick, perverted surge of pride that I was
taking it, taking it, taking it, and by cricketey I wasn't going to stop
taking it until he stopped giving it.

   I am The Stick.  I swallow.  I don't spit!

   He spurted and spurted, and my saliva mingled with his cum into a thick,
gooey, tasty slime that oozed past my lips as his last spurts faded to
pulsing oozings.  Only then did I back off, slowly, using my lips to
squeegee every delicious drop I could off my brother's slowly fading
hard-on.

   "Oh God!" Carl sighed from the bottom of his toes as he relaxed
bonelessly.  It was like I'd sucked the stuffings out of him.

   "Yum," I purred, sliding over, letting his withering cock slip from my
lips as I looked up along his torso at him, and made sure he saw me swallow
his load.

   "Beth is right.  It is delicious hot, straight from the source." My
voice sounded gooey to my ears.

   "You are such a fox!" Carl stroked my head.

   I slid up and snuggled next to Carl, his arm around me as I pressed
against his side, my cummy crotch on his thigh, my slimy face on his chest.

   So there'd been some overflow.  So sue me.  For a first time I think I
did pretty darn well.

   "So you can't tell me anything, huh?"

   "Sorry, but I really can't."

   "Do you know anything?"

   "I can't even tell you that," he answered, giving me an affectionate
squeeze.  "If I did, I'd have to kill you."

   I thought for a moment, feeling oh ever so close to him, and loving it.
"So, what should I do about Patterson?"

   "You're like a dog with a bone when you get on something!" he
complained.

   I gripped his soft, sticky dick and wiggled it.  "Some bone!  Want to go
again?"

   He chuckled.  "Believe me, I'm done.  That was phenomenal."

   I thought I'd ask if I was as good a Beth, but decided that was one of
those questions you shouldn't ask, a major faux pas, if you will.

   And yeah, I'm gonna take French in high school.  I'd already decided. 
And maybe Arabic, too.  Or ...  but never mind.

   "Who says you have to do anything?" by brother asked, cuddling me
nicely.

   "I can't just leave him like that.  He might explode or something."

   "He's not dangerous, is he?"

   "No, just hurting inside I think.  Conflicted, I'd guess you'd say. 
Anyway, if things go the same way tomorrow, if I don't do something I'm
without a partner, just sort of hanging around with time on my hands,
depending on what you and Beth have planned, of course."

   He thought about this, his hand stroking my naked back.  "Do what you
feel is right."

   "But I don't know what's right!"

   He tousled my hair.  "Trust your instincts, sis.  That's all the advice
I can give."

   "Shoot, you're no help," I grumbled, rolling away from him to sit up. 
"All that work for nothing."

   "You missed some." He reached up and wiped a mixture of spit and cum off
my chin, and sucked it off his fingers.  "I wouldn't say it was for nothing
exactly, would you?"

   "No," I admitted with a giggle.  "Isn't payback a bitch?"

   He grinned.  "I can deal with it."

   I was about to leave to take a shower, but had to try one more time. 
"Can't you at least tell me what you're going to do tomorrow?"

   "I won't know for sure, until I talk to Beth after dinner.  We were
going to do Alternative Lifestyles..."

   "Say what?"

   "You know, gay, lesbian, bisexual, that kind of stuff.  More tell than
show, a question and answer session, pretty much, unless our guests are
willing to do more show.  But we hit a snag."

   "What happened?"

   "The lesbian couple we had lined up backed out.  Unless we find another
one we'll have to postpone that and do something else."

   I mulled this over.  "Have you or Beth talked to Stephanie?"

   "No.  Why should we?"

   I nibbled my thumb.  "I could be wrong, but I think, maybe, she's got a
girlfriend."

   That actually got him to sit up.  "Stephanie?  A girlfriend?"

   "Could be.  Give her a call," I urged, thinking of how Steph and Kathy
Powers had hit it off so quickly when they'd met outside the art rooms
where Missy and I had gone to see the pastel of Beth's cunt.

   "I will, thanks!"

   "I've got dinner tonight.  You want to help with the dishes?" We've got
a dishwasher, but Mom didn't believe in using it.  It was a family thing.
Unless we were busy we shared our day as we cleaned up.

   "I'll help dry, if you'd like."

   "I'd like." I went to wash off the evidence of our afternoon
festivities, trying not to think of Missy and Mike, and failing miserably.

   Was I losing my best, best friend, and my future boyfriend, all at the
same time?  I felt like I was falling apart inside, and it only got worse
in the shower when I remembered how Missy had felt in the shower this
morning, all warm and soft and wet and slick, and how she'd brought me off
with her soapy fingers.

   Was that only this morning?

   The Stick doesn't cry!  The Stick does not CRY!  I told myself, but
myself didn't listen.  I let the shower wash my tears down the drain, but
it didn't do anything for the ache in my heart.

   I didn't know it could hurt so much.