Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does MS 10 By peregrinf

   I woke up in Mom's arms, her fingers combing through my crazy mop of
hair, tugging at my scalp.  It was a wonderful way to wake up, even on a
school day.  I let her know I was awake by snuggling closer to her,
enjoying her smell, warmth and softness.

   And, in The Stick's usual tactless way, my mouth fell open and stuff
spilled out.

   "Are you gay?"

   Mom's hand stopped for a moment, then resumed combing my tangles out. 
"Would it make any difference if I were?"

   "Of course not," I assured her.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

   "I don't mind."

   She answered after a minute.  "There was a time I would have said 'no.'
But now I'm not so sure.  I think there are many kinds of love.  And love,
both spiritual and physical, is precious, wherever you find it.  Now, I
think it's time you got up.  You've got school and I've got work.  We can
talk more over breakfast."

   "What about Carl?" I asked as we got untangled.  My crotch was all
sticky.

   "He's already up and out.  I heard him leave, in a huff -- a small,
four-wheel-drive huff."

   "A four-wheel-drive what?"

   Then I figured out what she meant, and giggled.  Last night I'd figured
out what had him so upset, so I said it.

   "He was expecting a hot welcome from Beth, after being away from her for
all of two days, and she shut him down."

   Mom nodded.  "And he blames you."

   "Me?  Why me?  I didn't do anything."

   "Nothing but saddle Beth with John.  With John hanging around, how could
she feel free take your brother to bed?"

   I felt a pang.  "Oh.  Yeah."

   "Carl will get over it.  Though I bet he'll want payback."

   "And payback's a bitch," I reminded myself dolefully.

   She laughed and tousled my hair.  "He can be ingenious.  My bet is Beth
will be here this afternoon or tonight, so be prepared.  Now, up you get.
I'll see you downstairs."

   She gave my naked butt a little pat as I scampered away.

   I was dabbling with my cereal when she settled opposite me with her
coffee.  We were both dressed, me for school, her for work.

   "About last night," I began hesitantly.  "I'm s...."

   "Dee, please stop apologizing for things that don't require an apology,"
she interrupted.

   "I'm s...." This time I cut myself off, and managed a wry smile.

   "I needed it.  I enjoyed it, too," I confessed.  "Thanks."

   "My pleasure," she assured me.  "And believe me, it was a pleasure.  I
once told you you could come to me anytime.  That hasn't changed."

   She thought for a moment.  "But I'm concerned about you.  Anything you
want to talk about, aside from a doctor's appointment?"

   I shrugged.  "It's just that everything's been coming at me so fast
lately.  I really, really missed you, you know.  I miss Missy, too."

   "I'm sorry you and Missy are on the outs.  And I'm really sorry I wasn't
here for you."

   Her hand on mine was reassuring.  I was glad she didn't pry into what
had happened between Missy and me.

   "Wasn't your fault.  You were gone before the fit hit the shan," I
pointed out, using our family spoonerism to deprive the cuss jar of a
quarter.  "And what about you?  You have to juggle so much, with work, and
Carl and college, and then I keep goofing up...."

   "As for me, well, I'm fine," Mom interrupted.  "Better than ever, in
fact.  And as for you goofing up...."

   "It's just that, well, stuff seems to happen when I'm around."

   "And it's a good thing you are.  What would have happened to John if you
hadn't stepped up?"

   I shrugged.  "Don't know.  Probably nothing good.  But if it wasn't for
Beth's folks I don't know what might have happened, either."

   I took a deep breath, and confessed, "I didn't really think the whole
thing through when I said I'd take care of him.  But, well, he was such a
wreck.  I mean, like, he said he couldn't go home, and he was crying, and
then Ms.  Andrews said he couldn't go home and she didn't want to involve
Child Protective Services.  I didn't really stop to think what would happen
to him afterwards, after Beth's mom said it was okay for that night.  If
they hadn't taken him in after Judy's party I don't know what would have
happened."

   "We'll have to think up some nice thing to do for them," Mom decided. 
"And yes, things have been coming at you real fast lately.  I guess it
comes with being an almost teenager.  Maybe now that you're through the
whole Sex Ed thing we can get back to what passes for normal around here.
When should I try to get you an appointment with Elaine?"

   Elaine again.  I wondered if maybe something was going on there.  I
hoped so.  Mom had been alone for so long, except for Carl, and me, and I
don't know that I'd been much help, especially lately.  But she'd just said
she was better than ever.  I let that thought drop for now.

   "Well, not today, I've got time trials this afternoon."

   "Tomorrow, if she can fit you in.  Now finish your cereal and I'll drop
you at school so you aren't late.  Did you find your suit?"

   "I must have left it at school."

   "Well, I hope so.  There's no time to find you a new one today."

   So she dropped me off in front of school and I walked in the front doors
and almost tripped over my own feet at the sight of Missy coming out of the
girls' room.  She'd gone topless!  I did a double take, and corrected
myself.

   Let's just say that she was stretching the limits of both elastic and
decency.

   She was flouncing around in a short shift.

   No, not a "short shrift." That's something that you give, or are given,
and I'm not quite sure what it means, except that I know you don't want to
be given it.  In this case a "shift" is a simple dress.

   And, maybe technically what Missy was wearing wasn't a shift, but it
sure was short, ending too many inches above her chubby knees.  It was
basically a dress, if you dare call it that, of light cotton paisley.  It
looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't something of hers I'd ever borrowed.
It was strapless, elastic clinging precariously to what, on her, passes for
a bust line.

   She doesn't really have much in the way of cleavage, you understand.  No
Grand Tetons there yet, just gentle foothills framing a shallow valley. 
She's only 13 for Pete's sake!  Granted, she's got more up there than I do,
but a lot less than Mickey of the Magnificent Mammaries.  Now that girl has
something to hang a strapless dress from.  With Missy the dress was left
with a tenuous dependence on friction.  As it was, she was bare almost down
to the nipples.

   I tried not to gape as she passed by.  She either didn't see me or
deliberately ignored me, so I fell in behind as she headed down the
hallway. From the back she was covered to maybe, just maybe, a couple of
inches below her well rounded butt.

   In short, it was short.

   Very short.

   What had happened to my sweet, demure, shy Missy?  Had she been taken
over by some strange force from outer space?  For the last week she'd been
progressively shortening her skirts by rolling them up at the waist, but
this was redrawing both of the borders of decency!

   Now, I grant you, in a community which has, so to speak, embraced the
Naked in School Program, it is very hard to establish a meaningful dress
code.  Okay, maybe you can try to enforce "no gang colors," -- good luck
with that one!  What's a "gang color" anyway?  -- but how do you define
"decency" or "provocative" when you've already got kids running around the
halls naked?

   Not that this has happened a lot in our Middle School.  Though I have to
admit to having displayed myself in these halls of learning on certain
occasions.  But, it was strictly in the line of duty, an effort to bring
sexual enlightenment to the masses.

   Oh, I know Beth called me an exhibitionist following my nude training
run around Judy Liu's neighborhood, but look who's calling me an
exhibitionist!  There's going to be a bronze nude of her, done by a blind
sculptor no less, in the high school's courtyard, and a pastel of her
aroused vagina hangs in the hall outside the high school's art studio.

   But getting back to Missy, whose back I was seeing more of than was
decent.  The whole effect of her -- thing -- was somewhat ludicrous.  I
mean, both upstairs and downstairs there was either too much of her limited
charms showing, or too little.  Somehow she was more naked than if she was
naked.

   I wondered how she'd gotten that thing past her very conservative,
overprotective mother.

   Further detracting from her display, she kept having to adjust the
thing. As she sashayed down the hall it steadily slipped lower, gravity
overcoming friction.  So she'd pull up on what must be loosely called the
bust line to avoid a nipple show.  But tugging upwards had the inevitable
effect of raising the southern boundary, thereby revealing the underside of
her buttocks where they pooched out below her panty line.  What was visible
from the front I choose not to speculate.

   Whereupon she would then tug downwards on the hemline, attempting to
maintain the mystery of her lower feminine charms.  As you'd expect that
inevitably threatened to expose her nipples.  So she'd reach for the
bust-line again.

   From the rear it looked like a stork's mating dance.  Arms up, elbows
out like wings as she tugged the top up.  Arms down, wings folded, as she
adjusted the hem down.

   Up, down, up, down, all while trying to swish her hips, which made the
hem of her garment reveal flashes of her panties, much to the enjoyment of
most of the male population.  I didn't like to think of the show she'd give
if she had to bend over to pick something up.

   And what is it with boys, anyway?  Hadn't they already seen all that she
had to offer when we emerged from our Sex Ed indoctrination to display our
charms in their entirety in the lunchroom?  In spite of that, she had their
tongues hanging out so far they looked like overheated Bassett hounds.

   She passed Horace and his bunch, which triggered an eruption of rude
comments, pokes and guffaws, while Mike, poor Mike, could only trot bravely
alongside her.  Boys coming in the opposite direction cranked their heads
around, their chins dragging on the floor.  As for we of the more
sophisticated sex, if looks could kill half the girls would be up on
charges of premeditated murder, and if scorn was a criminal offense that
would take care of the remaining fifty percent.

   I cruised to my locker, trying to maintain my dignity, all the while
praying that Missy wouldn't whirl around and attack me.  If she'd learned
of the slumber party -- not that there'd been a lot of slumbering -- she'd
be hurt that she hadn't been invited, given her former status as my BFF.

   Or, maybe not.

   I sighed as I contemplated the mess in the bottom of my locker, a heap
of clothes and shoes and papers and books that was already, this early in
the academic year, beginning to resemble an archeological dig.  Maybe
geological.  The bottom layers may have begun turning into coal.  But I
tried to cheer myself up.  By spring, if things continued, maybe the coal
would be turned into diamonds down there.

   Missy's and my relationship was probably fossilizing down there as well.
All the evidence pointed to her having moved beyond our former intimacies,
and I don't know why I kept hoping otherwise.  She had enthusiastically
embraced heterosexuality with Mike, and now seemed to be exploring -- what
is it called?  Not polygamy, that's guys with multiple wives -- well,
whatever it is called when a woman encourages the attentions of multiple
males.

   Call it "slut-dom."

   I knelt down and began my excavations.  I hadn't been able to find my
racing swimsuit at home and could only hope it was here.  Of course the
other question was, would it fit?  The way I had grown I had the feeling it
would be even less demure than what Missy was flitting about in.  If I
could pull it up enough to get the straps over my shoulders the crotch
would probably vanish between my labes like dental floss, while the top
would dip low enough to display my budding boobies.

   Suddenly I smacked my forehead.

   Not because I remembered where I'd put the suit, that was still beyond
my reach.  I remembered where I'd seen Missy's outfit, and realized how she
had gotten that so-called dress past her mom.  It was actually a skirt! 
Missy had bought it at a clearance sale last year on one of our jaunts to
the mall.

   It was a very simple thing, with an elastic waist.  To get it past mommy
dearest she had simply walked out the door with it on as a skirt, the way
it was meant to be worn.  With it and one of her simple knit tops, probably
bearing her hypocritical circle pin, her mom would have been delighted at
her daughter's modest and very feminine attire.

   Somewhere between her home and here -- maybe even in the school's girls'
room just before I arrived -- Missy had taken off the top and pulled the
waist of the skirt up to her armpits.  And there it hung -- or is it
hanged? -- instant dress -- sort of.  I could only shake my head at her
ingenuity.  Before she got home she'd don her knit top and the "dress"
would become a skirt again, which it was already threatening to do on its
own anyway.

   And somewhere between school and home, I was reasonably sure, she'd find
time to dally carnally with Mike, her mother remaining none the wiser,
convinced her daughter was still as pure as the driven snow.  I wondered
how the condom supply was holding out.  I wondered where she was in her
monthly cycle.  I wondered if she had yet dallied with others.  She was
certainly doing her best to encourage their interest.

   I resumed my dig, to no avail.

   Nope.  No swimsuit.  Which left me with an exposure problem that, in
some ways, dwarfed Missy's display.  On the other hand, there was a certain
honesty to total nudity, especially for swimming, and since it was at the
high school, which had The Program, skinny dipping wasn't uncommon.  I was
contemplating that when the bell rang and I was thrust into the school day.


   As I turned to dash someone gave me a swift swat on my butt, and Judy
Liu trotted past, throwing me a mischievous wink and a smile.  I found a
moment to chat with Alice and give John a hug -- they were stuck on each
other like peanut butter and jelly.  No longer was he tying his fingers
into knots, she had one set his digits firmly interlaced with one set of
hers.

   I took the chance to whisper to him that I, of course, had told no one
of his new situation or what had led to it, which seemed to reassure him.
On the drive Mom had told me the newspaper only had reported a drug bust,
but since John's last name was different from his mom's there was no
obvious connection.  I hoped that held, or his life would be hell around
school.

   Speaking of PB and J, when I took my lunch to my thinking spot I saw
them there and steered away to another quiet nook, rather than intrude.  I
was alone, again.

   I tried to tell myself that solitude was nice.  It was safe from the
turbulence of sex and violence.  But I was lonely.  Where had all my
friends gone?  It was bit of a jolt to realize I'd been so fixated on Missy
that they'd sort of drifted away.

   Big mistake, The Stick scolded me.  So, I vowed to change my life. 
Tomorrow I'd have lunch in the cafeteria!

   The afternoon was more of the same-old same-old, and then it was off to
the pool, my heart beating hard at the thought of racing again.

   Now, let me fill you in on how swimming is run in our town.  In the
summer, at the community pool, there is an age group swimming program,
where I am -- ahem -- a star, thanks to my natural talents and the skilled
training of Coach Zoble.  At the end of the summer just ended I collected
five pool championships in the twelve and under age group -- butterfly,
freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke, and diving -- and four county
championships.  At the counties I was third in breaststroke, which I hate
anyway.

   But I don't like to brag.

   When school is in session the high school pool is the venue.  The high
school has a swimming team, of course, where my brother, Carl, is a star
distance swimmer.  Coach Zoble, being an enterprising sort, also coaches
the high school team, so he instituted a school program for kids from the
various grade and middle schools in town to train people up for the high
school team.  Our practices have kids as young as seven and up to fourteen
in the usual two-year agegroups, eight and under, ten and under, and up to
fourteen and under.

   Thus, he is the local swimming Czar, though we just call him "Coach."

   The high school team has its own practices, though during preseason we
middle-schoolers form sort of a JV to scrimmage with them sometimes, just
for the fun of it.  This year I was hoping maybe to even win a race or two
against big kids.  Have I mentioned that I'm very competitive?

   After the mandatory "shower before entering pool area" I wrapped myself
in my biggest towel, which was about as demure as Missy's dress, and
ventured out into the delicious, familiar, steamy, chlorine scented air.

   I was late, as usual.  Coach's whistle tweeted and little kids flopped
off the starting blocks to splash their way down the lanes as I surveyed
the scene.  Moms were there, cheering their darlings on as they flailed the
water like baby ducklings.  The stands were filled with the usual crowd of
doting moms and a few dads, while the swimmers gathered in little clutches
on the deck, everyone in their team suits -- except me.

   Oh well.

   Even though the girls and boys practiced together there was the usual
voluntary segregation.  After my experience in Sex Ed I was more aware of
how the preteens and early teens began to interact more, but not really
intermingle.  It must be instinct or something.  The preteens were engaging
in their tentative mating dance, the girls giggling and flirting, the boys
swaggering and boasting.

   "Where's your suit, Walker?" Coach called as I lingered on the pool
deck.

   I explained my situation.

   "Why don't you try the Lost and Found?"

   The thought of exploring that putrid pile was almost enough to make me
gag.  I'd need a gas mask before I delved into that.  "Can I, you know,
skinny dip?"

   For some reason my eye had caught the one boy who stood alone, on the
fringe of the pack, obviously a newcomer not yet accepted.  He was almost
as tall as me, and something about him gave my heart a flutter -- and some
other organs a twinge as well.  He was tall, and blond, and fit.  I hauled
my attention back to Coach Zoble

   "There's no rule against it, but I think you'll regret it," he warned.

   He sounded his whistle.  "Ten and under freestyle, ten and under, girls
and boys freestyle up next.  "

   Which left me to join the giggling gaggle of girls.  I knew most of
them, of course.  We came from all over town, but we'd been swimming
together here or at the town pool for years.  There weren't too many from
my school, which was more into soccer.  Deliberately keeping my back to the
boys, I did a quick show and tell, flashing my body at the girls when they
asked about my suit.  That, of course, triggered a gale of squeals, which I
shrugged off.

   "I wish I had the guts to do that," one of them commented.

   "You'll find out what it's like when you get into The Program in high
school," another pointed out.

   "Eeeewwww!" the first protested.

   I tucked my towel around me again.  "Relax, you get used to it.  What's
with the new guy?"

   "He transferred in to North Side at the beginning of the year," one of
the girls from that middle school explained.  "Kind of a loner."

   "He's yummy," Sue-Anne simpered.

   "He's fourteen," someone else pointed out.  "Kinda old for you,
Sue-Anne."

   "He's still yummy," Sue-Anne insisted.

   So, he was a year older than me.  I had to agree with Sue-Anne, he was
yummy.  He had a shock of blond hair almost as undisciplined as mine, and a
crop of freckles.  He had the build of a swimmer, slender, good shoulders,
muscles sheathed with what Coach called an adipose layer, a thin padding of
fat that acted as insulation It gave him a sleek look.  He was obviously
nervous and bored as he paced around, shaking his arms out.

   "All right, all you older kids, get back out of the way.  Take seats
someplace until I call your group," Coach ordered.  "Timekeepers, pay
attention!"

   There was a mass migration towards the bleachers, and somehow I found
myself huddled next to the new guy, swaddled in nothing more than my
biggest towel and the chlorine scented air of the pool.

   Honest!  I didn't plan it that way.  It just sort of happened.

   The Stick reminded me that I am Tall.  I am Slender.  I am Sexy.

   I huddled.  Beneath my towel I was naked, and this guy did something to
my insides that I hadn't felt since Mike had rejected me for Missy.

   Come on, The Stick scolded me.  Say something!  Remember what happened
'cause you couldn't talk to Mike?

   I remembered.  But, like what should I say?

   I decided to start with something easy, like my name.  I thought I could
remember it.  Then maybe we could talk swimming.

   I summoned my courage, my heart racing, my skin prickling.

   "Hi.  I'm Dee."

   "Greg," he answered shortly.

   Well, at least it was a start.  He didn't run away.  I didn't run away.

   "What's your event?"

   "Butterfly," he answered, "and individual medley."

   "Really?  Me, too." I could tell he was looking at me while trying not
to look like he was looking at me, shooting me little side-long glances,
and I was doing the same thing to him.

   "Fourteen and under?"

   He nodded.

   "Me, too.  Just turned, or will in a few days, that is.  My birthday is
Saturday."

   "Happy birthday."

   "Thanks." I picked at a loose thread at the edge of my towel.  "I dive,
too."

   "That's nice."

   I was conscious of the heat of his thigh beside mine, and couldn't keep
from checking out his racing suit, wondering what it hid.  He was probably
checking out my towel, wondering what it hid.  I tried not to do the Missy
two-step.  You know, tug up at the top, down at the bottom.  My nipples
were stiff, the terrycloth of the towel scratchy on them.

   "Butterfly and IM," I mused.  "That's sort of the usual combination."

   Individual medley is two hundred meters, two lengths of the pool in each
stroke, butterfly, back, breaststroke and freestyle, in that order.  Older
kids do a four hundred meter IM, too.  I've tried it, but I'm not ready for
it.  It's good practice, though.

   He shrugged.  "You gotta be good at butterfly to be any good at IM.  Not
everyone can do it."

   "You any good?" I asked.  "At butterfly, I mean?"

   He shrugged.  "Guess so."

   I pointed to the list of pool records.  "That's me, twelve and under
record."

   Shit!  Why'd I say that?  I'm bragging!  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

   He glanced up.  "Not bad."

   I decided I'd already said too much, and he didn't seem that interested,
so I shut up.  We sat and watched while the coach ran through the ten and
unders so he could dismiss them and their parents and concentrate on the
older age groups.  There were always more of the little ones, but the ranks
started to thin when you got up into the twelve and unders, especially
boys, what with other sports like Little League, summer youth soccer, and
in the fall and winter scholastic soccer, basketball and football.

   With the youngsters gone there weren't many of us left, more girls than
boys.  At least most of us weren't saddled with our moms or dads, though I
wouldn't have minded my mom there.

   Coach was only using four of the pool's six lanes -- I guess that was
all the stopwatches he could come up with.  He was putting the girls in
lanes two and three, the guys in four and five, so it was pretty much girls
against boys in each event, which was fine with me.  None of the girls
wanted to race against me, and I enjoyed beating the boys.

   "You gonna swim like that?" Greg asked at last.  I'd felt his eyes on me
as our events drew nearer.

   "Like what?"

   "You got a suit on under that?"

   "No," I admitted.

   "Naked?" His voice cracked.

   "Yep.  Couldn't find my suit."

   I heard him breathe a soft "shit" to that announcement as we were called
up.  I unwrapped and he tried not to stare, but I could feel his eyes on
me, on those stupid little titties of mine, and my pussy, with its few
little wisps of hair.

   Sure enough, Coach put me in lane three, and Greg in lane four.

   Which is how I found myself stark naked, my toes curling over the edge
of the starting blocks, with this yummy stranger right beside me.  Of
course I'd skinny dipped before, every chance I got, but I hadn't raced
this way, and it hadn't been with a guy that made my pulse race.

   So we're naked, The Stick said, so what?  Maybe he'll be distracted by
our feminine charms.

   Not that I wasn't distracted myself.  He had my pulse racing.  He was
almost as tall as me, with the long, smooth muscles of a swimmer, good
shoulders, impressive pecs, flat tummy, slim hips, long legs, and there was
a visible reaction at his crotch, a fairly impressive one.

   I kept inventorying his attributes!  What was it with me?

   I was so engrossed with him that I almost missed the "set" command, and
was a tick slow off the mark.

   It was when I hit the water in my racing dive that I discovered the
reason to regret my lack of a suit.  Certain relatively new and sensitive
protuberances strongly complained about the impact with the water, even
though I didn't belly flop but did a shallow dive the way I'd been taught.

   Shit that hurt!

   Trying to ignore the pain I managed to get in my usual two underwater
dolphin kicks before I came up swinging to discover I was already half a
length behind.  Not behind the girl on my left, I always beat her.  Behind
him -- behind Greg!  Shit!

   Ignoring the ache in my tits I concentrated on closing the gap with my
usual fast outward lap.  I mean, I just kept my head down and flew.

   Because that was what butterfly is like for me, flying.  The butterfly,
done right, is a glorious stroke, effortless, almost as fast as the
freestyle.  The arms come over, hands go in, I pull hard and a wave passes
down my body, from my shoulders to my waist, to my hips, until my legs whip
down in the dolphin kick and the cycle begins again.  They call it the
dolphin kick for a good reason.  Just like a porpoise, my whole body is
involved.  It feels like I'm flying.

   This was a fifty meter race in a twenty-five-meter pool, so I didn't
even bother to breath until I hit the turn at the far end, when I grabbed a
quick breath and kicked off hard.  I'd made up about half the distance on
him, so I really dug in on the return, three strokes - breath, three
strokes - breath, two strokes - breath, getting a little winded -- breath.

   I was getting winded, but I was gaining on him.

   My arms and shoulders were burning.  If my tits still hurt I was too
busy to notice that, or the water sluicing over my naked flesh, barely
heard yells of the team as I gained and gained and gained.  He was not
going to beat me.  He was NOT going to beat me.  He -- was -- NOT -- GOING
-- TO BEAT ME!

   My arms came over on the last stroke and my hands slapped the wall a
good half-second before his did.

   And the crowd went wild!

   Well, not really.  It wasn't much of a crowd, but the girls whooped, and
they outnumbered the boys.

   I caught my breath.  "Nice...race," my voice trailed off.  He was
already up and out of the water.

   Nice ass, I thought as he stalked over to the timers.  They showed him
the watches and he shot me a look before storming off to the locker room.

   Well, if he had enough breath left to get out of the pool that fast he
hadn't tried hard enough, I decided.

   Then I started to hurt.

   "Shit!" I muttered under my breath, looking down at my throbbing tits.
They were hard as marbles, and I swear they were pouting at me.  I boosted
myself out of the pool and padded over to wrap myself in my towel.  My
nipples really bitched about the terrycloth while I checked the timing
charts.

   I was a bit off my twelve and under pool record, but not bad considering
how little training I'd been doing.  If I hadn't had that tall stranger
pushing me I wouldn't have done that well.  I was only a couple of seconds
off the girls' fourteen and under record, and I wasn't even thirteen quite
yet, so I promised myself I'd have that one by season's end.

   I went over and sat next to Gail Devers, a backstroker.  "What's with
that guy?" I asked her, waving vaguely at the locker room.

   "Greg?  He got beaten."

   "So?"

   She looked at me like I had two heads.  "By a girl?"

   "Oh."

   "Yeeeaahhhh!  Oooh!" she responded sarcastically.

   I thought it over, and shrugged.  "I gotta go check out Lost and Found
for a suit."

   "You think you distracted him?"

   I giggled.  "No!  But it hurt my titties.  If Coach needs me, tell him
where I've gone, and that I'll be right back."

   Thinking about it, maybe beating Greg hadn't been the smart thing to do,
but I could never deliberately lose a race, to anyone.  If he was going to
take it that way, tough.

   Lost and Found wasn't as stinky as I'd feared, since somebody had washed
everything.  I found my old racing suit there.  But holding it up to me
told me that trying it on would be like trying to cram ten pounds of mud in
a five-pound sack, or maybe a five foot stick in a four foot box, so I gave
up on it, and dug farther.  In the end I wound up with a totally mismatched
boy's bottom, which was a bit baggy, and a girl's top that was a little
tight, but at least I was decent every way but esthetically, and my tits
wouldn't be exposed to the impact.

   I wasn't matched up against Greg again until we got to the IM as the
last event.

   He surveyed my suit.

   "Like it?" I asked, posing like a model.

   "Well, at least it's not as distracting," he allowed.

   "On your marks!" Coach called.

   We curled our toes over the edge of the blocks.

   "Meet me at the finish," he whispered.

   "I'll be waiting for you," I answered.

   "Set!"

   I was all business this time, coiling myself for the start.

   "Tweet!"

   This time my tits didn't scream with pain when I hit the water, and I
was off and away on the butterfly leg, two lengths of the pool.  I went out
the way I always did in the IM, breathing every third stroke since it was a
200-meter race, smooth and graceful as a real dolphin.

   I didn't even see Greg until I hit the first turn and discovered I was a
full length ahead of him!

   I just kept my usual pace, what I consider easy, though my split for the
butterfly leg of the IM isn't all that much slower than when I was doing
straight butterfly.  I was a length and a half ahead when I flopped on my
back for the backstroke laps.  With my face out of the water I could see
Greg's wind milling arms beyond the splash from my kick, saw him gaining on
me a little so I pulled harder.

   Flip the turn, push off hard, stroke, stroke.  He'd drawn even with my
feet.

   Stroke, stroke, stroke, my feet churning the water as Greg slowly pulled
up.  Pull harder!  Hold him off!  I added a little wrist flip to every
stroke, trying to squeeze out just a bit more speed.

   Flip!  Into the breaststroke leg.

   Ugh!  The breaststroke is like battling through molasses!  Every move is
calculated to create the maximum resistance.  You have to bob up for a
breath with every stroke.  It looks stupid, and you're pushing a chest full
of water every time.  Your hands can't come above your shoulders, so on the
recovery they're fighting the water.  Drawing out your knees and spreading
your legs is like throwing out an anchor, while closing your legs for the
frog part of the kick strains your groin.  It just feels so slow!

   And, if you've ever watched a frog, they do it differently anyway,
pushing back with their big, webbed feet.

   I sneaked peeks.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Greg gaining
on me with every stroke!  Dammit!  He was good!

   Come the breaststroke turn he was almost up to me.  He was ahead when we
hit the wall for the turn into last two freestyle lengths, and I was
getting tired!

   Put your head down and dig, I told myself.  As a kid I'd trained and
trained so I could breathe on either side, three strokes and breathe left,
three strokes and breathe right.  Nobody to my left, Greg to my right, and
I was a quarter of a length behind coming into the last turn.  Flip turn,
drive off the wall hard, hard, hard.  Now I skipped the right breaths,
breathing on my left with every other stroke, concentrating on beating
Greg.

   It became a mental chant.  Beat Greg, Beat Greg.  Pull harder, kick,
kick, kick, pull harder, stroke, stroke, stroke.  I was gaining.  Inch by
inch by inch I crept closer.

   The last half of that last lap was a battle between me, him, and
exhaustion.  Shit he was good!  The last few yards just I kept my head down
and drove for the wall as hard and as fast as I could, slapped the wall and
popped up, and only then did I hear the screaming from the small crowd of
swimmers that were left.

   I was looking at Greg, and he was looking at me, and we were both
totally bushed.  "Nice race," I panted.

   "Who won?" he gasped.  s Coach was looking down on us from the deck. 
"It was a tie."

   "Shit!"

   That was from both of us.  We ducked under the water and came up face
first to get the hair back off our faces.

   Oh well.  I dragged myself out on the deck and rolled over on my back,
my chest heaving.  He stood up first, and reached down, so I took his hand
and let him help me to my feet, trying to ignore the thrill his touch gave
me, sternly telling myself it was nothing personal on his part.  He was
just helping me up, after all!

   "Nice race," he said as he let go of my hand.

   "Thanks.  You, too," I answered, blushing, wishing he hadn't let go so
quickly.

   Sheesh!  What is wrong with me?  I'd just met him.

   And he's a BOY, The Stick pointed out.

   Yeah, he sure was, I couldn't deny that.  I thought about it as I
showered and dressed.  A boy!  As I trudged homeward I was remembering my
first time with a boy, with Mike and Missy, and my second time, with John,
him still in the throes of his nightmare, not really even aware of what he
was doing, though I sure had been enjoying it.

   I was still wrestling with all this when I made my way in the back door
to the kitchen and got my usual cookies and milk before heading upstairs.
Beth's car was out front, so I tried to tip-toe past Carl's partly open
door.

   "Hi, Dee!"

   Busted.

   I looked into Carl's room, to find them both naked, no surprise there,
lounging back against the headboard of his bed, obviously having just
recently done the deed.  Oh jeeze.  Not that I minded, but I was already
half turned on from the memories of Mike and John I'd been combing through
on the way home.  I'd been planning on a nice session with the handle of my
hairbrush, and now this?

   "Want me to close the door?" I asked hopefully.

   "Nope.  We've been waiting for you." Beth was stroking Carl's naked
thigh, her fingers inches away from his limp, come coated cock.

   "You owe us," Carl pointed out.

   "Owe you what?" I asked innocently.

   "A come," Beth answered.  "Each of us."

   "Both of us," Carl added unnecessarily.

   "But, uhm, didn't you just have one?  Both of you?  Each of you?"

   "Twice," Beth answered with a giggle, fingering Carl's dick.  "Three for
me."

   "But that doesn't count," Carl added.  "You still owe us, each of us."

   "Both of us," Beth added pertly.

   Their stress on the "each of us -- both of us" was starting to get to
me. I dropped my backpack with a thud, not sure exactly how to handle this.
"Uhm -- How'm I supposed to do that?"

   I was feeling a definite tingle as my mind explored the possibilities.
All of a sudden I didn't feel as tired as I had after the time trials.

   Beth let her fingers trail up from her shaved pussy toward the sweet
mounds of her modest breasts.  "Why don't you get out of those clothes and
we'll show you."

   My hands were shaking as I pulled off my tee shirt.  It wasn't but a
moment before I was as naked as they were, rubbing my arms because of the
goose bumps suddenly popping up all over my body.

   For some reason a vision of Greg flashed through my mind and I felt like
I'd touched a live wire.

   But Beth had my attention.  She was toying with her nipple, which had
immediately stiffened eagerly.  Her eyes glittering, she beckoned me over
with one finger, her middle finger, while slowly, oh so slowly and
sensuously opening her legs.  Her pussy was flushed, the inner lips shining
juicily, still aroused from the fucking Carl had given her.

   As if I hadn't already gotten the point, Beth licked her lips, then
waggled her tongue at me, while pointing down at her still steaming cunt. I
felt my own pussy softening and melting at the very thought of diving into
her sweet grotto.  I'd been there before, as she had visited mine, and I'd
loved every minute of it.

   But before I could move she swiveled around on her butt and lay back so
her head was hanging off the edge of the bed.

   "You can start with a kiss here," she said, pointing to her puckering
lips, making kissing noises, "and then work your way down."

   I guess it was to be ladies first.  "Ooookay," I agreed, kneeling on the
floor so I could give her an affectionate peck before diving in for a real
good, slurpy kiss as she lay there, her head upside down.

   She tasted of sex.

   She curled her hand around the back of my neck to return the favor, our
tongues toying with each other as we swapped saliva.  I knew Carl was
watching and could only assume he was enjoying the show, so I cupped Beth's
right breast, my thumb stroking her nipple to life.

   I loved kissing Beth, she's so sweet and welcoming and responsive. 
Okay, so maybe payback is a bitch, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy it
with two of my favorite people in the world.  From her mouth I worked my
way slowly to her ears, the side of her neck as she willingly offered her
jugular to my mouth, where I sucked, and bit, feeling very vampirish as I
did.

   She was reaching around me, her fingers tickling my back, the back of my
neck, making parts of her I'd never explored accessible, so I even ventured
to her armpit, my lips working, a faint stubble raking my tongue, a slight
musky scent filling my head.  I'd never before explored another person the
way I did her, and I savored it.

   Then it was on to her tits, which I suckled on, happily, my tongue
playing with her rubbery nipples while my teeth bit playfully down on her
warm flesh, wringing soft moans from her.

   To lick further down her torso I had to shift my position.  Rising up I
could survey her naked display.  She has such a lovely body, petite,
delectably feminine, with firm boobies, responsive nips, soft curves, satin
skin, a faint, wonderful scent, the soft rise of her mons.

   I licked down the center of her chest.  She tasted of sweat, and sex.

   As I stood so I could reach she guided my legs so I was straddling her
head.  As I leaned over her I felt a touch on the back of my head and
realized Carl was stroking my hair as he watched.  But what was he getting
out of this, other than a voyeuristic thrill?

   Somehow I knew he'd find a way to take his turn.

   I was getting near Beth's pussy, nibbling at the soft rise around her
navel, then lower on her tummy.  I remembered how Carl had aroused me that
first, wonderful time, and tried to make it as good for Beth.  My lips and
tongue explored the crease between her torso and her thighs and she spread
her legs even wider.  I licked and bit at the inside of her thigh, slowly
approaching the hot heart of her sex, my mouth watering in anticipation.

   Beth was nudging my legs apart, spreading them, then cupping my ass to
draw it down, and her face came up between my thighs and I realized I was
going to get a thrill I hadn't really anticipated.  Oh, I was looking
forward to tasting Beth's gooey goodness, but now she was going to return
the favor.

   Oh my!

   Because my legs were so long I had to adjust as she pulled on my butt,
trying to draw it down to her mouth.  I wound up bracing my thighs against
the side of the mattress, my toes digging into the floor for traction so my
feet didn't slip out from under me, afraid I'd come down on her face and
either break her neck or smother her with my pussy.

   Unwilling to put it off any longer, I moved toward her welcoming twat,
my head engulfed in the wash of rich smells rising from her already heated
crotch.  Beth's feminine scent mingled with a muskiness that it took me a
moment to place.  Then I remembered the blowjob I'd given my brother and
realized I was smelling Carl's come.  He'd screwed this very cunt before
I'd gotten home -- twice, no less -- and I was about to dive into a mingled
pool of his jism and her juices.

   My mouth watered at the grossness of the thought.  I was such a perv!

   I nibbled at her soft, tasty outer lips with their sticky coating of
half-dried come, tongued her inner ones with their slick coating of juices.
I could see a pearly seeping of Carl's come creeping down from her cunt,
and licked at it, even though it was close, so close to the pucker of her
asshole.  I was getting more and more into this whole scene, my own pussy
blossoming as Beth explored my inner petals.

   A touch at my ass startled me, and I realized Carl had slipped off the
bed and was behind me, caressing my butt.  He gave me a spank, just hard
enough to sting lightly, and I grunted into Beth's pussy.  Judy had swatted
my tail, too, before she'd lubed me up and shoved that lovely butt plug up
my rear.

   Oh oh.

   Carl leaned over me, his body hot against my back.  He licked my ear.

   "Beth told me what happened at the slumber party," he whispered wickedly
in my ear, his breath hot.  "How much you liked what Judy Liu did to you.
How she jammed that big butt plug up your skinny little ass, while everyone
watched."

   Oh shit.  I was mortified that he knew what his little sister had done,
the comes, the butt plug, but I couldn't stop my licking at Beth's twat. 
What have I done?  What am I doing?  I'm only a little girl!

   You're almost a teenager, The Stick reminded me.  What's done is done.
You started down this road.  You wanted it.  It's too late to back out now.
Relax and enjoy it.  These people love you, and you love them.

   Oh shut up!  I told The Stick.  I know all that.  I'm busy.

   And I was, busy scooping out the rich gravy deposited in Beth's pussy,
savoring the tang of her juices mingled with two loads of Carl's musky,
salty, slippery come.  Beth was even contracting her cunt, pumping it out
where my lapping tongue could scoop it up.

   Something touched my asshole and I moaned.

   "I know you're not protected," Carl observed almost clinically as his
finger teased the tender dimple of my sphincter.  "If I use this hole we
don't need to worry about you getting pregnant."

   Oh, how very thoughtful of him to think of that!

   Oh God!  I was going to take him up my ass, and I knew he was looking
forward to it.  As for me, I was torn -- no, no, not really TORN torn; Judy
had done no lasting damage -- torn between anticipation and fear.

   Something cold touched my tail, pressed in, wedging me open, and I felt
something cold squirting up into my rectum.

   Lubricant, I told myself, from a squeeze bottle.  As he withdrew it he
added a chill squirt to my puckering bung, and spread it around with his
finger.  Oh jeeze, even that gentle touch felt good.

   Trying to lose myself in Beth, I pressed my attack on her quim as she
burrowed into mine, her lips seeking my clit.  I realized that as she ate
me out her face had to be bare inches from where Carl was preparing to
shove his cock up my ass.  She was going to get a real close-up view of my
buggery.

   Well, at least I was paying them back simultaneously.

   "Gimme!" Beth said, taking a break from my pussy.  She was doing
something behind me.  I took a brief look down my body, and saw that she
was stroking Carl's fully recovered cock.  It was ready and raring to go
where no man had gone before.

   It glistened.  She was greasing him up!  He had his hands on my hips,
and I felt his prick nuzzle against the gate to my well-lubed passage,
aimed there by Beth.

   His girlfriend was guiding his cock into my ass!

   He pressed in, and seeking distraction I dove back into Beth's pussy to
suck out more of their delicious mixture.  Beth resumed licking me and I
abandoned her sweet well and sought her clit, giving it a long, slow lick
that made her hips surge.  My lips nibbled at that slippery little pearl as
the head of Carl's cock slowly pried into my rear, wedging open my
reluctant sphincter as I pooped out to loosen it for him.

   Oh jeeze that felt good!  There was the friction, the stretching, the
pressure, his cock hot and meaty and alive, not cold and hard like the butt
plug had been.  Of course, at its fattest his dick wasn't as big around as
the plug, so he wouldn't be stretching me so painfully, but his dick was
longer, and he was taking his time, wriggling it slowly in my rear.

   I suckled on Beth's clit like it was a tit, my tongue toying with it, my
nose buried in her sopping twat.  I found that I was eye-to-eye, so to
speak, with Beth's puckered rosebud and knew she had to be watching her
lover's dork sliding into my tender young anus.

   My god, what a threesome we were.  My brother was buggering me while his
girlfriend watched, and ate me out, and I ate her out.

   I felt his cock slide through my sphincter, driving everything before
it, until Carl's hips came up against my ass and I knew he was full depth
in me, and oh did it feel good.

   He drew out, slowly, slowly, slowly, almost all the way out, and
pistoned back in, and I was in heaven.  This went far beyond anything I'd
ever felt before.  Beth was stoking the flames in my cunt with her tongue
and lips, and I regretted that all I could for her was to return the favor.


   No!  Wait!  There was one more thing.

   I found the crater of her asshole and I wriggled my bird finger into
that tight gate.  My way was well lubed by the flood drooling down from her
pussy, so I penetrated her tail easily, her sphincter hugging first my
first knuckle, then the second as I shoved it into her shitty depths until
my palm cupped her butt.  Drawing my bird finger out, I added a second
finger, stretching her open, shoving both digits in until my hand again
jammed against her ass.  I began to pump my fingers in and out of her in
time with Carl's strokes up my rear, and I lost myself in my own pleasure
even as I felt the muscles inside Beth's rectum and vagina clenching.

   I was coming, a long, slow swelling rush of a coming the lifted me up,
swept me along, and I feared it would end too soon.

   But Carl, oh Carl.  This was his third round, and he was ready to go a
long, long time, and I didn't mind it one bit.  Every slow stroke pumped
another wave of pleasure through my whole body, his pace slowly picking up.
I was whimpering into Beth's pussy, her legs closing and opening around my
ears, her hips churning her pussy against my face as I ate her out and
wiggled my fingers in her tail.

   Then I heard Carl grunting, his cock pulsing, and I realized he was
unloading his hot come into my ass, and my own coming went up yet another
notch.  I felt his cock pumping jizz into my rectum.  My pleasure soared,
pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, my muscles straining until I at last slid down
the other side, my mouth going slack, spilling spittle and jizz back on to
Beth's swampy pussy, my stinky fingers slithering out of Beth's anus, while
my own cunt's and asshole's spasms slowly faded, leaving me drained.  Carl
slumped over my back and the three of us lay there in a soggy heap,
panting, until Beth pushed at us and we rolled off her, Carl's cock
slithering limply out of my flooded butt.

   For a while all we could do was lie there in a gooey tangle, Beth on one
side of me, her head by my hips, Carl on the other side, breathing on my
face.  When we were finally functional again, sharing a shower to clean up,
the vote was two to one that I'd repaid my debt in full.

   "Can I request a re-count?" I asked hopefully, even though I was tired
and my bottom hurt.

   Laughing, they held me under the spray in an attempt to drown me, and
then spent a lot of time making sure I was really, really clean, all over,
inside and out, while I did the same for them.

   While we were in there Mom called and left a message to say she wouldn't
be home until late, and that I was to do my homework, and not to wait up
for her.

   But she didn't say why, darn it.  Not "why my homework" but why she was
out late, and not to wait up.  What was she doing?  Was she with somebody?
Who?

   Oh, I hoped it was with Elaine!

   So anyway, still naked, of course, the three of us had sandwiches
together, then Beth gave Carl a long, lingering good-night kiss before
leaving to soothe John's pain, and I trudged up to do my homework.
   Ugh.