Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does MS 11 By peregrinf

   Good ol' Carl was oblivious, buried in the newspaper again for some
class he was taking, while Mom and I shared secret smiles over breakfast,
both of us still dealing with what we'd shared in Dr.  Smathers' examining
room.  Of all my experiences since sex ed I thought maybe that topped them
all -- not that I'd want to be on the receiving end of a fisting, at least
not until I'd been stretched by having a kid.

   Which, in itself was a scary thought!

   But the memory of wearing Mom on my hand like a sock-puppet was enough
to make me cream in my rompers.  The way she'd reacted as I'd wiggled my
fingers, made a fist in her hot, soupy cunt, while Dr.  Smathers had sucked
and tongued her clit, well, if I could feel half of what Mom seemed to feel
I'd never complain.

   Breakfast done, we split, off to our daily assignments -- Carl with Beth
to high school, Mom to work, me to school via bicycle for the first time in
a while.  I reminded her I had the library after school, she reminded me to
ride carefully and wear my helmet, the way she always did.

   Now I was out and away, the ride sweeping away all the cobwebs from my
mind.

   I started out slowly.  The breeze up the legs of my loose shorts teased
my naked crotch.  I don't know why I didn't put on underwear today -- well,
maybe I did.  Anyway, I was enjoying the bicycle ride for reasons other
than the air brushing my naked pussy.  It was the first time I'd been on my
bike since Missy had gone her hetero way and left me pining.  After deep
contemplation, I'd come to the conclusion I was pining more for our lost
friendship, Missy's and mine, than for the brief interlude of sex we'd
enjoyed.

   And you believe that?

   I told The Stick to shut up.

   For years Missy and I had walked together to school because it gave us
time to chat and giggle together, gossip and tease.  As kids we'd run and
skipped, played games with the cracks in the sidewalk, kicked pebbles down
the path, raced to the next corner.  It was about a twenty-minute walk, the
way we did it, but worth getting up a bit earlier so we could share our
secrets and our hopes and dreams.

   Now all that was gone and I missed it.  The walks since had been so
lonely.  I'd avoided Missy's street, and Mike's, making the walk even
longer, and been constantly on watch to avoid them if they strayed from
their usual route.

   Today the bike avoided all those problems, shortening the time while at
the same time letting me lengthen the route, no watchfulness necessary,
giving me a feeling of freedom.  I loved the sensation of speed, the wind
stroking my cheeks -- even Those Cheeks, when I lifted off the seat to
pedal harder, the air blowing up my shorts.  The wind whispered in my ears,
toyed with the hair not restrained by my helmet, tickled the wisps on my
bare pussy.

   I savored the flex of my legs, the strain on my thighs and calves as I
stretched my muscles.  I'd been neglecting my running, and bike riding was
a good alternative.

   Now I was warmed up.  Standing on the pedals, I leaned into it, making
Old Bessie fly.  Old Bessie was only a three-speed, bought at a police
auction, but I didn't mind.  That made me work harder, a good thing.  After
I'd fixed it up and oiled it, under Carl's tutelage, I'd out-pedaled Missy
on her fifteen speed, even on hills.

   The tires hissed on the pavement as I rounded a corner, my legs starting
to burn.  I deliberately took an even longer route this morning, one that
put a couple of hills in my path, so I was puffing when I pulled up behind
the school, my legs warm and rubbery.

   It felt good.

   I felt good.

   I had another reason for biking today.  I needed to return the overdue
book to the public library.  It was too far to walk, but not too far to
bike.

   I'd even broken my metaphorical piggy bank to try to pay the fine.  I
hoped they wouldn't throw me behind bars or put me in stocks on the village
green to be pelted with rotten fruit.  I'd computed the fine, long
multiplication, if that's a valid math term, and resigned myself to being a
pauper until I was in college.

   Maybe I should get a paper route, or take up baby-sitting.  I was old
enough now.  I think the paper route, rather than baby-sitting, though. 
More exercise, and I'm not good at dealing with puke.  Money, on the other
hand....

   After I locked my bike to the rack I headed for the school's back door,
grateful to be missing another of Missy's front door performances.  The
back halls were just beginning to fill, and I had my head in my locker,
trying to make sure no other library books were lurking down among the
ancient relics and fossilized assignments when someone tapped me on the
back.

   Of course I rose up and whacked my head on the double hook they have
screwed under the top shelf.

   "Sorry," Mike apologized as I backed carefully out, holding my head,
blinking tears out of my eyes.

   I inspected my fingers, grateful not so see any blood.  Scalp cuts bleed
a lot, and that would have meant another trip to the nurse's office.  Last
time I'd been there she'd threatened to use her desk stapler to close my
next laceration, no matter where it was or what the cause.  She's a PA or
something and licensed to do minor repairs.  I'm glad she's a good
seamstress or I'd look like I was put together with zippers.

   I also took a moment to try to get my addled brain working.  I don't
think I'd exchanged two words with Mike since that mad threesome I'd shared
with him and Missy in my bedroom.  He'd been stuck on her like chewing gum
on the heel of her shoe ever since.

   "What do you want?" I didn't mean it to come out the way it did --
hostile -- but he was not high on my list of favorite people at the moment.
Sure, not long ago he'd been my unrequited love.

   "Unrequited." Good word.  Language arts does have its uses.

   But after all, he'd stolen my girlfriend!  They got each other and I got
nothing.

   "Never mind." He turned away, head hanging, and my heart went out to
him. Missy's shenanigans had to be getting to him, and besides that, I
couldn't forget that he had taken my virginity, and he'd been the boyfriend
I'd longed for but never had.

   Taken my virginity, hell, be honest.  Engulfed in a perfect storm of
horniness I'd thrust it upon him, though in the end he'd been the one doing
the thrusting, aided and abetted by the now notorious Missy.  But I'd been
a more than willing receptacle.

   "No, wait!" I reached out to him, touching his shoulder.  "I'm sorry. 
Lemme finish here and I'll walk with you."

   Extracting the stuff I needed from the locker, I slammed and locked it
and joined him in a trek toward homeroom.

   "Bitch!" he muttered under his breath.

   I knew who he was referring to, of course -- or should that be "to whom
he was referring?" Language arts is also a pain.

   "What's she done now?"

   "She likes making me jealous." He was furious.  If he'd been a girl he'd
'a' been crying.  "She does it on purpose!"

   "No she doesn't," I argued, some remaining shreds of loyalty making me
defend her.

   "She does!" he fired back, stopping.  "I heard her say so!"

   "You're kidding!"

   He shook his head.  "No, I'm not!  She was horsing around with Horace
and his crew, and she said it to him, looking right at me when she did!  'I
like making him jealous,' she said.  'It's fun!' She's taunting me!"

   "That bitch!" I swore, resuming our slow way down the hall.  "I'd say
she deserves being dumped."

   "But I love her!"

   "Still?  Even after that?"

   He nodded miserably.

   I thought of trying to tell him what he was feeling was coming from his
balls, rather than his brain or heart, but figured that wouldn't fly.  I
was still having trouble telling the difference between lust and love
myself.

   This whole sex thing was so complicated.

   "You still, uh...?" I pantomimed, poking my fuck finger through a circle
I made of the thumb and forefinger of my other hand.  Even a moron would
have known what I was asking.

   He nodded.  "We found a private place between here and her house. 
There's an old mattress...."

   "I'd rather not know," I told him, my mind recoiling from the image of
them, naked, tangled on some grody, stained old mattress in a grungy alley.
But I did want to know one thing.

   "How's the condom supply?"

   He shrugged.  "Sometimes she gets impatient.  I try to pull out.  I know
it's risky!" he snapped before I could say anything.

   "Sometimes she comes real fast," he went on, "and I pull out and finish
myself, but not on her -- 'Mommy might find the evidence,' she says.  And
she won't suck me.  Says it's icky, but I love eating her, even after we've
fucked!"

   "Whoa!  Too much information!"

   "Sorry," he apologized.  "What should I do?"

   Who does he think I am, Dear Jenny?  She's our school paper's heartbreak
columnist.

   "Dump her!" I answered with no hesitation.  "She doesn't deserve you."

   I had a fleeting surge of joy at the thought he'd be available to me,
but it was gone as quick as it came.  That chance was long past now.  Too
much water had gone over the bridge, or under the dam, too much spilled
semen, whatever.

   "But I love her."

   All I could do was shrug.  He wouldn't listen to me.  He was -- what's
that expression?  -- getting his ashes hauled regularly, even as she
tortured him.  Talk about dysfunctional relationships.  Ick indeed.

   At that point the bell rang and as we went our separate ways we had to
drop the whole subject, to my relief.  I didn't see how his talking to me
had done him any good.  It sure hadn't improved my mood at all.  I was
angry with her like I'd never been angry before.  Mike didn't deserve this
kind of treatment.

   I was puzzled, too.  This wasn't the sweet, shy Missy I'd known nearly
all my life.  She'd turned into a hormone driven witch!  Whoever had chosen
her for sex ed had made a big mistake.

   I couldn't forget her parents had agreed to let her take the class
because she told them I was taking it.  She hadn't asked me before she used
me, but I had to admit if she had asked I would've said "fine!"

   I hadn't known of the demon lurking inside her.  Maybe an exorcism ....

   Someone rammed me from behind, hard, a fist to my kidney.

   "You stay away from my boyfriend!"

   Rubbing my back, I turned toward Missy's venomous hiss to respond, but
she was already pushing her way through the crowd.

   Shit!  She'd obviously seen me and Mike talking.  Shit!  She's got half
the middle school boys tripping over their tongues -- and other appendages
-- and accuses me of trying to steal her "boyfriend."

   Bitch!

   I managed to immerse myself in my morning classes, even though my
stomach had turned into a sick, sour knot.  By lunch hunger had loosened
it, until I caught sight of Missy in the hallway, clinging
oh-so-hypocritically to Mike, nibbling on his cheek, pressing his arm to
her soft, warm boob, tucking his hand not-so-discreetly to her crotch when
she thought she could get away with it.  He was blushing and squirming in
the throes of a torrent of testosterone, betrayed by the bulge in his
trousers.

   Ick!

   At least the sight of A.  J.  and Mickey talking earnestly lightened my
mood.  Of all the unlikely couples to emerge from sex ed they took the
cake. Even though he was the perfect geek, 6th grade division, and Mickey
had all the fixtures of the ultimate 7th grade sex-pot, a teen-age boy's
wet dream come alive, they communicated on a whole different level, both
intellectually and emotionally.

   And her whole attitude had changed.  It was as if by tapping her
intelligence he had somehow freed her of using her precocious physical
development to get attention.  He saw her as a fascinating brain which just
happened to wrapped in a sexy body, where everyone else, me included, had
been totally distracted by the packaging.  I smiled and waved at them and
she drew me in, telling me excitedly about their project for the science
fair.

   I only understood about every third word, but agreed it sounded
fascinating and that I'd be rooting them on.  Turns out they were having
some sort of a design problem, and since it resembled a problem from last
night's trig homework I came up with a possible solution!  I was glowing
when I walked away from that one.

   And in the lunch line Judy Liu was with Terrell, and I had this mad
image of the little gymnast swinging like a monkey from one of his big
black arms, even though he was a musician, rather than a jock.

   It felt good, too, to have my crew at lunch welcome me again, and this
time we were enthralled by a rumored relationship between the girls' phys
ed teacher and the new assistant librarian, a perky blonde just out of
college who looked as feminine as all get out.  But who was I to question
sexuality?  I squirmed a little bit, but no one brought up my previous
relationship with Missy.  I know there had been suspicions about us, and
the rumors of what went on at Judy's sex ed sleepover had only stirred the
pot further.

   They were true friends.  They accepted me for what I was, or wasn't.

   "So, you want to hang out with us at the mall after school today?  I saw
you on your bike," Cindy asked.

   I felt a pang at missing the fun, but had to shake my head.  "I've got a
book overdue at the library," I explained, still skating around the real
reason I was going there.

   Peggy eyed me shrewdly.  "That wouldn't have anything to do with the
fact that Greg lives in that direction, too, would it?"

   "It's where the library is," I pointed out defensively, "and I do have
an overdue book."

   Waaaay overdue I reminded myself.

   "Liar, Liar, pants on fire," Cindy teased.  "Look!  She's blushing!"

   I could feel it, of course, and couldn't deny it.  "Well, if I should
happen to run into him...."

   Fran guffawed, and Inez tittered.

   "I want to talk to him about tomorrow's practice," I insisted primly. 
"If I should happen to see him!"

   "IF you should happen to see him," Fran observed snidely.

   "Just in case," Inez added.

   "And practice for what?  There's a nice park around the library," Cindy
pointed out.

   "There are some neat places where you can get a little privacy -- for
talking about practice, of course," Peggy added suggestively.

   I was more than pink by this point.  "You guys!  All I know is his last
name is Anderson, and that he goes to North Side, so he lives in that area.
What are the chances I'll run into him?  One in a million?"

   "And he's cute," Peggy teased.

   "And he's seen you naked.  You got anything on under those shorts?" Inez
asked.

   I flamed red.

   Fran laughed.  "What do you bet she's gone commando today?"

   They all laughed.

   "And don't forget, you beat him in a race," Inez reminded me.  "You'll
be lucky if he gives you the time of day."

   "We tied in the IM after that, and I was whipped so he helped me up off
the deck afterwards, and he smiled at me."

   So I exaggerate -- I wasn't THAT whipped.  So sue me.  He had helped me
up -- his idea -- and he had smiled at me, sort of, I think.

   Cue the chorus: "OooooOOOOOoooooooo!"

   What could I do but laugh along with them as we all gathered up our
lunch debris.  "Anyway, have fun at the mall.  I really do have a book that
is way overdue."

   "Say 'hi' to Greg for me when you see him!" Fran challenged.

   "He doesn't even know you exist," I pointed out.

   "You could change that, if you wanted to," she explained.  "Tell him I'm
not such a great swimmer, but I'd be happy to be his P-F-D.

   "Personal Flotation Device?" I asked.

   Fran is a large girl.  Well, truthfully, she's -- uh -- rotund (thank
you, lang arts, again), and the image of her bobbing on the waves, with
Greg riding her like some sort of inflatable toy cracked us all up.  Even
Fran herself was laughing as we high-fived.

   "I was thinking Personal Flirtation Device," she countered, still
laughing.

   "But you want him for yourself, so I bet you won't," Fran concluded as
we dumped our trash and returned our trays.

   "Probably not," I agreed, grinning.

   Gosh I loved those guys -- and Not in THAT way, as good, loyal friends!

   We endured the usual barrage of snotty comments as we passed Horace's
Herd -- or should that be Horde?  -- on the way out of the lunch room.  Of
Missy and Mike there was no sign, and I wasn't sure if that was good or
bad. One of these days one of Mike's little wrigglers was going to get
loose in her when an egg was headed downstream and then there would really
be hell to pay, if something worse didn't happen sooner.  Like maybe a boy
whose chain she yanked one too many times would take her up on the offer,
whether she liked it or not, and he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

   What was she thinking?

   That was easy.  She wasn't thinking, and I had to admit I had more than
a little experience of what can happen when the hormones are storming. 
Twice I'd done it, and afterwards, both times, I'd regretted it.  What is
it they say?  Sin in haste, repent at leisure?  Something like that.  Well,
at the rate Missy was going she'd be repenting from now until graduation --
college graduation, if she made it there.

   I was conscious of a little bit of an ache in my arm where my new
implant was doing its thing, as if to remind me it was there.  My tits were
a little tender, and I suspected the implant was the reason -- I'd read the
pamphlet Dr.  Smathers had given Mom.  Bigger boobs was a potential
side-effect.  Maybe I was finally going to get boobs.  Better two bulges on
my chest than one in my belly.

   Oh, having the implant gave me a little feeling of security, but made me
even warier of my hormonal driven urges.  Irony is another gift from lang
arts.  How ironic that now that I am safe I'm even more afraid of partaking
of the joys of the flesh.

   The afternoon was a roller coaster ride of terror and anticipation. 
Would I see him?  What would I say to him?  What would he say to me?  I was
totally wired as I pedaled toward the library.  Would I see Greg?  Would he
see me?

   Well doh!  If I saw him I'd make sure he saw me -- wouldn't I?

   Shit!  I was behaving like a blushing virgin!  Which I could never
forget I no longer was -- a virgin, I mean.  I still blushed like a
stoplight.  Judging by that you'd never guess I'd already done darn near
everything I could do with all the openings I had available, with both
males and females.

   God, just thinking about that romp with Beth at my cunt and Carl up my
ass, or then the one with my mom and her gyno, fisting, of all things --
got me all gooey.  And then, when I combined that with my memory of Greg's
shy, wry smile and his nice slender body, well, goo changed to gush.  All
of a sudden my lack of panties didn't seem like such a good idea, since
there was nothing to catch my secretions but the crotch and seat of my
shorts, and they were khaki.  They'd show the leakage for sure.  I'd look
like I'd peed in my pants!

   I rose up on my pedals, hoping my pants would bag away enough to avoid
getting soaked, and so the wind could dry them if it was already too late.

   As a result of my weight on the pedals I roared up the gravel path
toward the old mansion that served as our library.  Hitting the level area
where the bike racks were located, I braked my bike's back wheel into a
crazy slide, scattering gravel like buckshot as I dismounted.  A double
skip and I rolled it into place in the rack.  I'd locked the lock, and only
after I'd buckled my helmet to my backpack did I look up to find I was
facing my wanted poster on the libe's bulletin board.

   My wanted poster!  I mean, a wanted poster for me!!  I was wanted!  It
said it, right over my picture, in big, bold, block letters -- WANTED!

   I broke out in a cold sweat.

   It was a new display, a collage of wanted posters.  Wanted for failure
to return books, they read, with mug shots and all.

   Maybe somebody's idea of a joke?  There was even a reward for
information leading too and blah, blah, blah.

   Shit!

   And it was undeniably me, right in the center of the bottom row.

   Oh it was a blurry picture from last summer, out of the newspaper after
one of my swimming triumphs, but it was undeniably me, the unruly,
straw-like, chlorine- and sun-bleached hair, the freckled, sunburned nose,
the innocent blue eyes -- except it was a black and white picture.

   I was about to look warily around like the felon I was, fearful I'd be
spotted, when hands from behind closed firmly around my upper arms, drawing
a wince when a finger pressed on my newly implanted implant.

   "I suggest you come quietly, Miss," a deep voice warned

   I squeaked!

   The grip on my implant arm relaxed and I turned to lose myself in Greg
Anderson's twinkling blue eyes while he tried to look serious and
efficient. He was as tall as me!  That was so neat!!  I was so tired of
looking down on the boys in my class.  And, has hard as he tried to look
serious there was that little smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. 
That Smile!  Oh gosh.

   "You got her!  You got her!"

   Bouncing up and down next to him was a short, impish, dark-haired girl
with a bright smile and cheeks that just invited being pinched.  Sticking
crazily out of the sides of her head, short, blue-streaked ponytails
flapped giddily up and down, adding to her wacky charm.  She was totally
excited.

   "He's had this place staked out ever since they put your poster up!" she
exulted.

   "It only went up day before yesterday," he grumbled, letting go of me
and I felt a pang.  "There's a reward," he confessed, embarrassed.  "I
figured you'd show up, sooner or later, to return the book."

   "But he's been talking about you ever since you beat him.  You beat him,
didn't you?  Mister Hot-Shot butter flyer got beat!"

   I eyed her.  She reminded me of myself when I was her age, which I
guessed was about ten, which wasn't all that long ago.  I felt a twinge of
envy.  I'd wanted to make some of my hair pink, but Mom wouldn't pay for
it.

   Physically she was totally unlike Greg, stockier, but not fat, probably
never would be as tall, duskier skin tones instead of his blond freckled
complexion.  She was wearing a pink tank top that showed just the bumps of
perky nipples, no foundation under them yet.  She had a bright smile, nice
cheeks that you'd want to pinch, and a teasing flash in her dark eyes.  Not
blue eyed and blond like Greg at all, but something about the
relationship....

   "Let me guess.  Sister?"

   "Only a stepsister," he responded irritably, but that didn't faze her in
the least.

   She planted her fists on her hips and glared up at him.  "Well, you're
only a stepbrother," she pointed out.

   "True.  Her name is Alexandra, but we call her Drindy, except when she's
in trouble, that is."

   "Not Alex?"

   "That's a boy's name!" she protested with a pout.

   "Not that I'd ever forget it," he assured her, tousling her hair
affectionately.  "She's very much a girl."

   She looked up at him and I could see she felt about him the way I felt
about my brother.  She adored him, and he adored her.  Physically they were
as different as night and day, the product of different parents but they
were family.

   "There's a reward.  If I bring you and the book in they'll forgive one
of my fines," he explained, getting back to my "arrest." "You got the book
with you?"

   I nodded.  "In my pack.  You get fined a lot?"

   He gave me that little quirk of a smile that made me go all funny
inside. "Yeah."

   "Better get the cuffs on her," his sister warned.  "She looks tricky!"

   Greg and I looked at each other, and it was like telepathy the way we
decided to humor her.  Dutifully, I turned my back and put my hands behind
me.  I didn't resist when he took me from behind by the wrists.

   "I've got her," he announced.

   "I'll go quietly, Sheriff," I responded humbly, hiding a smile that was
as much caused by his touch as our silly charade.

   "You carry the backpack, Deputy Drindy.  Be careful with it.  My bet is
it's got the loot in it," Greg ordered gruffly.

   To say I was kinda enjoying this whole scene is putting it mildly.  How
was it his touch had such an effect on me?  And here I'd been worrying what
we'd talk about.

   "How old is she?" I asked him, not softly enough.

   "Don't talk about me like I'm not here.  I'm ten, I'm not deaf!" she
retorted.  "Ooof!  Whatcha got in this thing, gold bricks?"

   "Don't I wish!"

   "She's ten, going on twenty -- but emotionally I think she's a case of
arrested development."

   "She's the one who's 'rrested," Drindy countered.

   I suppressed a giggle, remembering how I'd been at that age, tired of
being thought "a kid." Come to think of it, I was still tired of that, but
I had a birthday coming up and I'd be a teenager, at least.

   He perp-walked me up the path, holding my wrists behind my back as if I
were cuffed, Drindy trudging along behind, grumbling about my pack.  Some
kids coming out the door stepped aside, staring at me, but I held my head
high, rather than trying to hide my face the way most perps do.  Maybe it
was just his grip that made me feel all hot inside, but I liked testing my
muscles against his strength, and having my arms behind my back did kinda
push out my chest, what there was of it, which wasn't a bad thing.

   He marched me up to the circulation desk, and it was just my luck the
head librarian had descended from her lair on the second floor to man the
desk.  She frowned at me.  "You got her!"

   "We got her," Drindy confirmed proudly, taking half the credit, "and the
goods are in here." She swung my backpack up on the counter with a THUD!

   It was all the three of us -- librarian, me, and Greg -- could do to
keep from laughing at Drindy's officious tone.  Marie (she's the Head
Librarian) is a sweet, thoughtful, helpful, and very soft-spoken woman,
with a core of steel.  I think she was genetically programmed to be a
librarian -- super efficient and organized, with a sweet voice that barely
rises above a whisper.  Her words come out as if they were each carefully
selected, her diction precise.

   "You'd better get it out for her, Drindy, she might have a weapon in
there." I could see Marie struggling to conceal her smile, her eyes
twinkling.  She's slender and pretty, though her hair is graying and she's
probably fifty.

   "No weapon, but here's the loot," Drindy announced, extracting the book.


   A quick scan with the wand and the computer beeped accusingly at me. 
Greg released me and I started digging in my pocket.

   "You're lucky," Marie told me.  "You only owe us five dollars."

   I looked up, astonished.  "I do?  But I multiplied it out...." At twenty
five cents a day I was clutching three times that, and ready to try to
establish a payment schedule for the rest.

   She smiled that gently sweet smile of hers.  "There's an amnesty in
effect.  Though if you'd lost the book you would have had to buy it," she
explained.  "That's a thirty dollar book."

   I gulped and unwadded a five dollar bill from my stash.  "Glad I didn't
lose it!"

   "Thank you.  I am, too," she said, taking the money and putting it in
the cash drawer.  "I'll make sure your poster is taken down."

   "Oh, could I have it?" Drindy asked eagerly.  "The poster, I mean."

   Marie laughed softly and looked at me.

   "Sure," I agreed, flattered.

   "I wanna put it up on my dart board!"

   I thanked Marie, grateful for getting off so lightly.

   "I thought that was a bulletin board," Greg commented as we headed for
the exit.

   "Not the way I use it!"

   "If you start getting sharp headaches it means she's into voodoo again.
What can I do?" he asked me wearily.

   "Might as well give up.  I have an older brother and he never managed to
tame me," I pointed out, wondering where we went from here.  I suddenly
felt all shy again.  "Now what?"

   "Can we go someplace a little more private?  I wanna talk about sex,"
Drindy announced loudly as we left the library.

   My jaw hit the sidewalk, and I saw Greg turning a delicate shade of
pink.

   "Alexandra!  What did I tell you?"

   "You said not to ask about you-know-what, so I didn't!" she protested
with the unbreakable logic of the ten-year old.

   Greg was heading toward red, and I was afraid purple and manslaughter --
or sister-slaughter -- was next.

   "I told her not to ask you about, well, about your experience teaching
sex ed," he sputtered.

   "And I didn't," his sister pointed out.  "I just said...."

   "We heard what you said!" he and I chorused.

   I was in danger of exploding as I tried not to burst out laughing. 
Without really even thinking about it, I put my hand on Greg's arm, feeling
a little shock as I did.  It may not have calmed him, but it sure
distracted the two of us for a moment.

   "So you heard about that, huh?" I asked him.

   "Uh huh."

   "Ever since he met you he's been stalking you," Drindy explained,
earning another glare from him.  "He's been asking everyone what they know
about you.  Turns out you've got quite a rep!"

   That gave me a tingle, and a blush.

   "And what do you want to know about sex?" I asked her, trying to be
serious and professional.

   Drindy flapped her arms, bouncing up and down on her toes, her ponytails
flipping and flapping like -- well, like pony's tails, the blue locks
flashing in the sun.  "Everything!  I don't know anything!"

   "Dee, I don't...."

   I smiled at him and his sister.  "Really, I don't mind.  It's about all
I've been dealing with for the last two weeks." Then I flushed myself. 
"Unless, that is, you'd rather not -- uh -- go that route, considering,
well, that we just met, sorta.  "

   Shit!  Now I was gonna scare him off.

   "Uh -- I dunno," he stammered.

   "Pleeeaaase?" Drindy begged.  "I'm such a dork about this stuff, and you
know how Mom is about talking about stuff like that, and she's always so
busy anyways, and the kids in my class are full of bullsh...."

   "Drindy!" Greg cut her off before she'd owe a quarter to their cuss jar.


   "Mom's not comfortable about talking about sex," Greg explained.  "Dad's
not much better, for that matter."

   Shit!  Now I was getting myself into a student-teacher kinda thing with
Greg, which was NOT at all what I wanted.  And his sister was gonna be
there just to totally screw things up between us.  I mean, it's not like I
was eager to jump on his pole.  Well I actually was, I think, but I wanted
to get to know him, and now all he'd see me as was a -- what do they call
it?  -- a sex surrogate!

   I also suddenly realized what a trial I'd been to my own brother when he
and Beth were -- what's the word I want?  -- courting, that's it, like John
Alden and what's her name.

   That's when I decided that when Fate is dealing it out, payback is
especially the bitchiest.

   "Come on, I know a neat place," Drindy announced, tugging on her
brother's hand.

   Greg took mine, which was a nice thing, his grip was firm and warm and
felt real good.  We formed a train with Drindy in the lead, dragging us
along, the backpack in my free hand bringing up the rear.  She hauled us
across the lawn to a big tangle of shrubs of some kind, looked around to
make sure no one was watching, and then slithered through the branches. 
Greg and I looked at each other, shrugged, bent low and crawled in after
her.

   It was shady and cool, the ground carpeted with dried leaves and twigs.
A few small bugs and dust motes danced in beams of sunshine that dappled
us.

   Drindy looked like an eager little forest elf beneath the boughs, her
blue-striped ponytails and shoulders speckled with bits of leaves.  I
picked a twig out of Greg's hair and he brushed a leaf off my shoulder as
we looked around.  The bushes closed in overhead, but there was enough room
to stand.  Beyond our little refuge we could hear children playing, people
talking.  It reminded me of when I'd drape a blanket over a card table to
make myself a private place to play.

   Of course I'd known about "secret" places in the park.  All us kids did.
Missy and I had played hide 'n' seek more than once around here when we
were supposed to be doing research for school.  The little kids used them
for games, the big kids for other stuff.  I guess today we were getting
into big kid territory ourselves.

   "Okay, where do you want me to start?" I asked, getting rid of my
backpack.

   Greg gave me a teasing wink.  "Why don't you get naked.  That's the way
I first saw you."

   I was suddenly self-conscious at the thought, which was ridiculous. 
After all, he'd seen me naked already.  But something about doing it now,
here, with his sister watching made me fidget nervously, my insides all hot
and squirmy.

   "You met her naked?  You didn't tell me that!" Drindy's eyes were wide.

   "She was naked.  I wasn't," he explained.  "I think she did it to
distract me.  That's how she beat me."

   "It is not," I argued defensively.  "I was so distracted myself I was
half a length behind off the blocks, and I still beat you, fair and square.
And anyway, I wasn't naked on purpose.  I'd lost my old suit -- turns out
I'd outgrown it anyway -- and hadn't gotten a new one."

   "Kewl!"

   I made a face at her.  "I don't recommend it if you're gonna do a racing
dive."

   "She's into soccer instead of swimming," Greg assured me.

   "I swim!  I just don't race.  Soccer's more fun.  Otherwise I'd prob'ly
beat you both."

   Greg and I shared a good laugh over that one, and even Drindy giggled.
"Well, I might if I were bigger."

   I smiled at her.  I was really beginning to like this youngster.

   "So, how about we get naked together," Greg suggested.

   "Me, too?" Drindy asked fearfully.  "In front of you?"

   She was looking at her brother.

   "You've never been naked in front of him?"

   She shook her head, her ponytails flapping frantically.  "Nuh uh!  Have
you been naked in front of your brother?"

   "More times than I can count," I assured her, not about to go into all
the other things we'd done together.  Even so, I was going all bashful at
the idea of being naked in front of Greg for some reason.  Something about
this was twisting my innards into a knot, in a good way.

   I mean, he's just a boy, after all.  What was there to be afraid of? 
I'd been naked in front of the whole school!

   But still....

   If Greg knew what I was feeling, or if he was feeling the same way, he
didn't show it.

   "Come on, let's all get naked," he urged.  "I'll show you mine if you
show me yours."

   If that isn't the oldest line in the history of kid-kind I don't know
what is.

   Greg was already pulling his shirt up.

   "Uh -- no, but -- well...." Then I took a deep breath.  Good grief!  It
wasn't as if I'd never done this before.  What about at home?  What about
in sex ed?  Why was I being such a dork?  I skinned my shirt off, exposing
my underdeveloped chest.  For a moment I defensively cupped my budding
boobs, conscious of the hard knots of my nipples, and their sudden
sensitivity.

   "Come on, Drindy," I urged her.  "I don't want to be the only girl."

   "I'm going to be the only boy," Greg pointed out as he attacked his
belt.

   "Well don't invite all your friends!" Drindy fired back as she pulled
her tank top up.  "And if you ever tell anyone we did this I'll pound you!"


   She stripped the shirt off, exposing a chest that was already almost as
developed as mine.  She was slender, sort of, but not skinny.  If she did
decide to pound Greg he'd regret it.  This girl was fit!  The tan-lines
made it obvious what during whatever sunning and swimming she did she wore
a one-piece suit.  Unlike her stepbrother, she tanned while he freckled, a
lot like I did.

   "I'm getting ahead of you guys," Greg pointed out, shoving his jeans
down to reveal a pair of tighty-whities that were strained by the hard on
he was sporting.

   Strange how different today felt from the first time we'd met, when I'd
been naked from the start.  I couldn't take my eyes off him, even while I
was unbuttoning the waist of my baggy shorts, suddenly exquisitely
conscious of my total lack of underwear.  I wished I'd worn some sexy
panties -- not that I had any.

   If stuff like this kept up I might even find myself at Victoria's
Secret!

   I looked toward his stepsister, who was struggling with the waist of her
shorts -- they were tight, like she'd grown a bit lately, which she
probably had.  When the waist popped open the zipper almost did itself,
revealing cotton panties with teddy bears on 'em.

   My shorts were loose, slithering down my thighs, unceremoniously
exposing my nakedness, and my hands went to cover my pussy as Greg's eyes
widened.  Meanwhile, I was staring at his strained jockeys, the thrust of
his dick, a telltale stain of moisture right at the tip where the fabric
was clinging to the helmet of his prick.

   "Aren't you gonna...?" I sorta gestured and he flushed a bit, shot a
look toward his sister, who was now down to her childish panties, and
staring at him, at the pole stretching his underpants.  If he'd let it
slide up it looked like the head would stick out the top like a periscope.

   "Okay.  On three, both of you at once," I challenged.  "One...two...."

   "Three...," Greg joined me, shoving his underwear down, his cock leaping
free to bob in the air.

   Drindy shoved her underpants down around her ankles and immediately
covered her -- uh -- privates, as they used to say, her tan darkening with
a blush.  Her shyness was so adorable!

   Greg was trying to hide his hard on, totally unsuccessfully.  I gave up
on hiding my own naked pussy, realizing just how ridiculous that was.  He'd
already seen me, for gosh sakes!  Greg looked at me and dropped his hands,
exposing his cock.

   It was gorgeous, slender but not too slender, straight, a pale shaft
with a purple cap emerging from a collar of skin -- he wasn't circumcised
-- his balls snuggled up at the base in their dusky sack.  He had a thin
bush of light reddish hair.  He wasn't as big as Carl, but bigger than Mike
or John, and I couldn't help wondering what it would feel like inside me,
blushing at the thought.

   "See, nothing to it," I said to Drindy.  "We're naked.  Feels good,
doesn't it?"

   She bobbed her head tensely, ponytails flying gleefully, still staring
at Greg's cock.

   Spreading my shorts to sit on, I took Drindy's hand in mine as I folded
my legs Indian fashion.  "Now, what do you want to know?  Here, sit on my
shirt so you don't get dirt on your butt."

   "He's so big!"

   I looked at it again as he spread his own shirt and joined our little
triangle.  "Not really.  I've seen bigger."

   "Are you a virgin?" Drindy asked.

   "I don't...." Greg tried to stop her.

   "It's all right," I assured him.  "It's not something you usually ask
someone," I told Drindy.

   "Sorry," she apologized, looking abashed.

   "Really, in this case it's all right.  When it comes to talking about
sex, well, honesty is important."

   I took a deep breath, dreading Greg hearing this.  "No, I'm not." I
looked at him.  "Sorry," I apologized.  To my relief he sorta shrugged, and
looked embarrassed.

   "I am," he admitted bashfully.  "A virgin, I mean."

   "I should be.  I kinda wish I was," I confessed, "but after sex ed,
well, stuff happened."

   I turned my attention to Drindy.  "You know what having sex is?"

   "Uh huh.  They taught us in school.  He -- the boy, I mean -- puts his
thingy...."

   "His penis, his cock, his prick," I filled in.

   "In my -- uh -- cunt, and squirts his stuff...."

   "Semen."

   "Semen in me, and that's what makes a baby.  Does it hurt?"

   "It may, the first time, but not always," I admitted.  "And not for very
long.  Then it feels real good, except if you don't want to do it and the
guy is raping you.  I guess that really hurts.  It's never happened to me."


   "What does it feel like to have sex?"

   I pondered that one.  "How do you describe a feeling?" I asked aloud. 
"It feels good.  Could you describe, to someone who's never tasted ice
cream, what a hot fudge sundae tastes like?"

   She shook her head.  I loved the way her hair danced.

   "Have you masturbated?  You know, played with yourself?  Tickled your
tee tee?  Fingered your pussy?  Be honest now." I used the words quite
deliberately to assure her that there were no limits to this discussion.

   She shot Greg a guilty look, then looked down.  "You mean, like...." She
touched her little slit, actually parting the lips a tiny bit with her
fingertip.

   I nodded, and looked at Greg, and he nodded.  "I have, too." His voice
cracked.

   "There's nothing wrong with that.  It's one of those secret things that
almost everyone does, but no one talks about," I assured them, almost
quoting my own mom word-for-word from a talk with her when I was about
Drindy's age.  I realized this was almost like reliving my own childhood,
seeing the curiosity, the anxiety, the excitement in her young face.  I
wasn't that much older than Drindy, and I was younger than Greg, but I felt
ancient next to them.

   "Well, it feels a lot like that, but even better, with the right
person," I went on.  "He's in you, and stretches you and fills you,
and...." I broke it off before I boiled over myself.

   I saw her shooting looks at Greg's rampant cock.  I could almost feel
her curiosity.  I looked at Greg, and he looked at me, and that telepathy
thing seemed to work between us again.  He was almost as unsettled as
Drindy.  Somehow I knew; being older he didn't want to seem almost as
inexperienced and innocent as his little sister was.  I made a motion with
my hand toward his cock, and flicked a glance to Drindy, and he caught on.
He blushed, made a face, but nodded reluctantly.

   "Would you like to touch him?" I asked her gently.

   She started to reach for him, but pulled her hand back, shaking her
head, folding her hands in front of her naked little pussy.  If she'd known
how much I wanted to actually lick it she would have fled in terror,
probably.

   "When it comes to sex, wait until it feels right.  Don't let anyone push
you into anything.  Ever!" I warned.  "Your boyfriend may tell you he loves
you, but if he doesn't stop when you say stop, he's lying.  May I?" I asked
Greg.  He nodded tensely, and I could see his cock jump in anticipation as
I reached for it.

   "It's nice, hot, hard on the inside, with soft skin covering it," I told
Drindy as I curled my fingers around Greg's stiff dick.  I was thrilled
that I was touching him, my own heart racing.  "The end is softer, more
sensitive.  It feels good, but you have to be gentle."

   He was oozing pre-cum of course, so I explained what that was, drawing
the foreskin back spreading the clear oozings over the plummy head, drawing
a gasp from Greg.

   Drindy hadn't taken her finger from her little pussy, and out of the
corner of my eye I could see her wiggling it in her slit, near the top,
near her clit.  It made my own mouth water, and my pussy, even though I was
thrilling to the feel of Greg's cock in my hand.

   "This is like the way it would be stimulated if he was in a girl, moving
it in and out of her," I explained, moving my hand gently up and down his
shaft.  "It's probably the way he masturbates."

   He nodded tensely.

   "I like doing it.  There's a special feeling to giving someone else
pleasure.  It makes me go all hot inside, even though he's not touching me.
It probably feels even better for him when I do it than when he does
himself.  Doesn't it?"

   Leaning back on his hands, he nodded.  "But, what if I, you know, come,
in your hand?"

   I smiled, my own excitement rising at the thought.  "I'd like that."

   And that was all it took, that and two more strokes.

   "Oh shit!" he gasped.  His dick pulsed in my hand, and come erupted,
shooting straight up to spill down over the head of his cock, drooling down
over my hand, hot and sticky, the musky scent swirling in the soft air
currents of our shady corner of the world, while outside kids laughed and
played and adults talked, oblivious to our lusty exploration.

   His sister's eyes were a big as saucers as she watched.  Her finger was
busy in her pussy, wiggling and wiggling, her hips squirming.  She was so
engrossed in Greg's spurtings I don't know if she was even aware of what
she was doing to herself, but it was obvious her body was.  Her budding
nipples were swollen and stiff as she pinched them with her free hand, and
she was whimpering, her ponytails quivering, her legs squirming.

   If Greg hadn't been there I know I would have been hugging her, but Greg
was and I was thrilling to his eruption, my own pussy clenching hungrily. I
milked him dry, his slimy pecker slipping in my grasp as he grunted and
gasped, his eyes closed, his hips working.  His spurts eased to pulses, the
pulses faded to oozings and his cock began to soften.

   "Oh God that was good!" he gasped, pushing my hand off his withering,
slippery dick.  Without really thinking about it I brought my gooey hand to
my mouth and began to suck it clean.

   "Eeeewwwwwww!" Drindy exploded, making a face.

   I looked at Greg slyly, remembering what Beth had said in sex ed one
day. "It does taste better straight from the source," I teased, and saw him
swallow hard.

   "Really, it doesn't taste bad," I assured Drindy.  "Here, take just a
little fingerful of it.  It's clean, has a little bit of protein but it's
non-fattening, when taken orally, that is, but not if taken -- uh --
cuntally," I joked.

   She took a gooey, creamy blob, brought it to her lips, sniffed warily
and then licked it delicately.  She made a face.  "It's kinda salty.  And
it smells funny."

   "That's the smell of sex."

   "Oh." She thought about it, wiping her finger on her naked thigh.  "I
don't really like it."

   "You may feel different about it when you're older," I answered, looking
at Greg as I carefully slurped his tasty juice off my fingers.  At least he
didn't look disgusted.

   Oh, I had SO much I wanted to teach him.  But not right away.  I wanted
to get to know him better first.  I'd never felt this way about a boy
before.

   I checked my cheap watch.  "Now, that's enough sex ed for today.  I've
got to be getting home."

   "You gonna go like that?" Drindy asked.

   "No," I answered with a laugh, getting up.  I shook the leaves and stuff
off my shorts and pulled them on as she got up, then picked up my shirt and
did the same.  Greg got up, his limp dick drooling, so I playfully caught
the drip and sucked it off my finger, embarrassing him.  He danced
awkwardly until he got his underpants on.

   When we emerged from the bushes, Drindy ran off to where some friends
were kicking a soccer ball around, her mind flicking from the mysteries and
pleasures of sex to the art of the soccer kick as only a ten-year-old's
could.  Greg and I walked toward my bike, and I thrilled when he took my
hand.

   "See you tomorrow at practice?" he asked when we got near the racks.

   I looked at him -- not looked DOWN at him, or UP at him, looked straight
AT him!  I suppose someday I'll look up at him, if I ever stop growing. 
"Wouldn't miss it.  I'm gonna beat you again."

   He grinned.  "Wanna bet?"

   Abashed, I shook my head, suddenly feeling all shy and silly again.  To
my surprise he used his grip on my hand to pull me a little closer, leaned
toward me, and it was like I had a magnet in me, making me lean toward him.
We didn't even bump noses!  The first things, the only things that touched
were our lips, and I felt like I'd kissed a live wire.  My toes curled! 
I'd never felt a kiss like this before!  And it was just lips touching, no
tongue.  I held my breath for the longest time before he drew away.

   "See you tomorrow," he promised, and I felt a pang when he let go of my
hand, though I managed to turn away.

   "See ya." I had trouble unlocking my bike my hands were shaking so.  I
thought of inviting him to my birthday party, but how could I?  I didn't
even know if there was going to be one.

   That hurt.  Surely Mom would ...  but what if she didn't?  And I didn't
want to leave, but I had to.

   He watched as I strapped on my helmet, shrugged on my backpack.  I
almost went for another kiss, but flushed and turned away to get my bike
out of the rack instead, wishing I was feeling his arms around me.

   My heart still racing, I mounted Old Bessie, gave Greg a wave, and
sailed down the hill, feeling like I was flying, feeling like I was leaving
a piece of me behind, all awash with a whole big mess of feelings.