Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does MS 5r1 By peregrinf

   Beth's mom would be the first one to tell you that she's not Super-Mom,
that she's just a mom.  Well, first of all, "just a mom" is -- what do they
call it?  something that like contradicts itself, like "military
intelligence" -- it sounds like someone stupid on oxygen -- an oxymoron,
that's it.  Mom-ing is a very challenging profession.  And second of all,
MY mom is Super-Mom, so on that score, I agree.  Beth's mom can't be.  Only
one per customer, or town, whatever.

   But I admit, if I didn't already have a mom, Mrs.  Finch is the mom I'd
like to have.  She's warm and comforting, laid back and loving, and it's
easy to see where Beth got her sweetness.  Beth got smarts from her daddy,
and that's what she still calls him, Daddy.  Not that her mom isn't smart,
she is, of course, but her dad is really smart, even though he may be an
accountant, not a rocket scientist or physicist or something like that. 
Trust me, I've seen my mom trying to balance her checkbook.  Accountants
are smart.

   Anyway, Mrs.  Finch keeps the house neat and tidy, but not stuffy, the
furnishings comfortable rather than fashionable, like in Missy's house. 
There are magazines on the end tables, yarn and needles protruding from her
knitting bag.  It looks lived in.  It is comfortable.  The only place in
Missy's house I'd ever really felt comfortable was her bedroom.  Anyplace
else I had the feeling if I disturbed something the world would come to an
end.

   Missy's mom even has her canned vegetables shelved in alphabetical
order.

   After a house tour we settled in Beth's room, with its strange mix of
femininity and geekiness -- frills, computer stuff, stacks and heaps of
books, books, books, a poster with transparent overlays of a person all
taken apart so you could see the muscles and bones and even nerves and
stuff like that.  Yuck!  She wants to be a doctor.  Ick.

   And then there's a sort of sepia-toned sketch of a naked man in a circle
in a square, his arms stretched out.  Beth says it's by da Vinci.  There's
also a sketch of Carl, obviously done by Kathy (she signed it).  He's
holding his trombone, and his personal slide is at full extension, if you
get what I mean.

   The craziest thing is on the top of some bookshelves, a naked
Barbie-type doll astride a really tacky rearing plastic horse.  I wanted to
ask about it, but didn't want to pry, but it tickled something in my
memory.

   Yummy cooking smells drifted up from the kitchen, and my mouth was
watering, my stomach growling.  I think the word I'm looking for to
describe my lunch is "truncated," a word which, for some reason, makes me
think of an elephant who's had an unfortunate encounter with a weed
whacker.

   We were all still completely naked, of course.  Well, except Beth, who
was wearing that little gold cross she always wears, and I don't think that
counts.  I don't think she ever takes it off.  She's not in-your-face
religious, though she goes to church on Sundays.  As you may know, at the
end of her week in The Program she gave a reading and a little homily to
the congregation, wearing only shoes, that cross and a smile.  Talk about
brave!

   The cross is from her grammy and grampy, and that makes it special. 
Sometimes I wish I'd known my grandparents, but they were gone before I was
born.

   Anyway, Beth was perched on her computer chair, legs folded tailor
fashion, her bald cunt and bubble-licious titties on full display.  I was
sprawled on the bed, while John wandered the room, looking at stuff.

   He was as tight as a guitar string, and he wasn't helping me relax.  I
was in over my head, and I knew it.  Who knew what would set him off?  He
was a scared kid in among strangers.  At least I was among friends, though
I'd never eaten here, of course.  Carl had, often, but not me.  Even I had
my limits when it came to torturing Carl, and invading his girl's house
with my pranks was out of bounds.

   The three of us talked about posing for Kathy, a nice safe topic.  Beth
admitted that it was fun, with fringe benefits, especially if it was with
Carl.  I tried not to sound too eager at the prospect of posing for her,
though I had this mad hope that Kathy would paint me -- I mean paint ME, my
whole body -- and then clean me off with her tongue, like Stephanie was
probably cleaning Kathy at this very moment.

   Or I'd paint her and clean her off.  I'm not picky.

   Yeah, right, sure.  I know.  Like that's going to happen!  I'm a kid and
she's a goddess, and she's got Stephanie.  But I can dream, can't I?  I
mean, can you imagine what it would be like, lying there, all stretched out
in the art studio, gracefully languid, while she licked me, from head to
toe, and all those exciting places in between, my titties, my cunt, even my
ass....

   Whoa!  I was about to cream in the rompers that I wasn't wearing.  That
was enough fantasizing for the moment!

   John, on the other hand, was unsure about the posing, but it was hard to
figure out why.  He'd seemed comfortable enough this afternoon in the
studio, but he seemed to have this dread of something awful happening to
him.  We tried to reassure him.  After what had happened at lunch I kept
feeling like I was teetering on the edge with him.

   We heard Beth's dad come home and some talk in the kitchen.  Then he
came up the stairs and stuck his head in to say "hi." He seemed as cool
with us being as nude as Beth's mom was.  Beth and I didn't have any
trouble with it, either, but John seemed to almost cringe.

   "Supper in fifteen minutes," he announced.  "Come-as-you-are."

   "Thanks, Daddy," Beth responded.

   "Does that mean what I think it does?" I asked.

   "Naked," Beth answered.

   "Is he -- gonna be naked, too?" John asked nervously.  He was studying
something on top of the bookshelves.  I noticed he was holding his hands
behind his back, really careful not to touch anything.  It was like there
was something wound tight inside him.

   "Probably.  Is that okay?"

   "I guess so," he responded softly.

   "If you want...," Beth offered.

   "No!" he answered a bit sharply.  Then, more softly, "No, it's okay. 
It's just that I'm not used to -- it's okay."

   Beth and I shared a look, and shrugged.

   "What's that?" he asked, carefully pointing at the horse and doll
concoction.

   Beth giggled, and actually blushed.  "Oh, my brother made it for me,
after he saw me at the pep rally last year."

   "Suppertime!" Beth's dad announced from the doorway, and Beth was right,
he was naked!  Oh my.  Not that I'm complaining, you understand, but still,
the sight of a full-grown parental man gave me a tickle in my tee-tee. 
Judging by the rise of his pee-pee, the sight of us naked kids was having
an effect on him, as well, but he didn't apologize or try to hide it or
anything.  Mr.  Finch is a sweetie, a little on the pudgy side, with a bit
of a bald spot, not too much hair on his body, and a handsome package, you
might say.

   "Pep rally?" John asked.

   "Tell you about it at supper," Beth promised as she led us downstairs.

   As comfortable as I was with Beth and her folks, I was as nervous as if
I was about to take off from the ten-meter platform, thirty feet and then
some above the water.  The view down from there always gives me a squinchy
feeling in my tummy.  I only do it for fun.  I'm too young to actually
compete from it.  I'm not supposed to do it, but then, there's not always
someone around to stop me, so....

   Anyway, back to supper.  I kept thinking, what if Beth's daddy asked
some logical question, like "where are you from, John?" or "tell us about
yourself, John?"

   The dining room is nicely furnished, nothing fancy.  This was a family
dinner, with the regular china, tableware out of a kitchen drawer -- nice
but not sterling.  Mr.  Finch was at the head of the table, Mrs.  Finch at
the foot, nearest the kitchen, of course, me and John on one side, Beth on
the other, and there were serving dishes of meatloaf, French cut string
beans, and steamed carrots, glasses of milk at John's and my places, wine
for the adults.

   Even Beth got wine, darn it.  It's hard for me to remember that Beth is
only about four years older than me, even though I'm taller than she is
already.  I mean, she has done so much, and she's so smart, and she is SO
right for my brother, and he's right for her, and ....

   Anyway, it was all very normal, except that we were all naked, and The
Stick, that wicked corner of my mind was thoroughly enjoying it.  You know!
Enjoying that we were doing the most normal thing in the world, having
supper at a friend's house, only we were all naked!  I mean, is that kinky
or what?

   I tried to imagine Missy's family dining naked and sprained my brain. 
Missy's Mom is always so perfectly groomed, dressed just so, the perfect
suburbanite.  Even her casual clothes are pressed.  She probably even irons
her panties -- starches them, too.

   And yet here we were, all naked, wrinkles and all -- not that any of us
had too many wrinkles.  And we were comfortable, for the most part.

   I was a bit surprised when Mr.  Finch reached for my hand, while Mrs. 
Finch, on the other side of John from me took his.  I saw Beth reach for
her parents' hands, got the idea, and we all joined hands.

   Mr.  Finch's grip was firm and dry.  John gripped mine nervously, his
palm damp, so I gave him a reassuring squeeze as we bowed our heads.

   "Bless us, oh, Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to
receive," Beth intoned softly.  We all "amen-ed," and Mr.  Finch gave my
hand a squeeze, so I squeezed back, and squeezed John's, and then we passed
the food.

   "John was asking me about the horse and rider up in my room," Beth said,
serving herself some beans.

   "Oh my!" Beth's mom said taking some carrots while Mr.  Finch served me
some meatloaf.  "That brings back memories!"

   "Something about a pep rally?" John asked.

   Mr.  Finch chuckled.  "Some pep rally!"

   "You must mean the one before the football game with Eastern last year,"
I explained, the pieces falling into place in my mind.  "Mmmm this is
good!"

   "When that monster reared up with Beth on his back I nearly fainted!"
Mrs.  Finch confessed, taking a sip of wine.

   "You nearly fainted?!  What about me?  I'm the one he was trying to buck
off," Beth said.  "That was not in the script!"

   "I guess nobody told the horse about the bonfire," Mr.  Finch pointed
out dryly.

   John was looking bewildered as he tucked into his supper, his hunger
obviously overcoming his nerves.  He'd eaten less at lunch than I had,
after all.

   "It was when I was in The Program last year," Beth explained.  "On
Friday of that week it was announced that I'd been chosen to be Miss School
Spirit, which was dreamed up by some sexist pig, probably a football
player, as a way of boosting school spirit for football games.  It's been
around for years, of course, only they didn't have Naked in School in mind
when they first thought it up, not that that would have stopped them."

   "Since she was in The Program she had to do all school activities naked,
and leading the pep rally was part of it," I continued.  "She and my
brother, Carl, had been sort of feuding with one of the football big shots,
and that Neanderthal set it up to embarrass her."

   Beth's mom took up the story.  "Instead she turned the tables on him,
but good."

   John looked interested, and it makes a great story, so even though the
rest of us had lived it we enjoy telling people about it.  I'd never
suspected it, but it turns out that beneath her mild exterior, Mrs.  Finch
has a flare for the dramatic.

   "It's the night of the pep rally," Beth's mom begins, "and the crowd has
gathered on the baseball field.  There are cheerleaders, and the band is
playing fight songs, when it suddenly stops and marches to form a lane to
the outfield.

   "'Charge!' is played, first by Carl alone on his trombone, then all the
brass section, then the whole band, ending with the cymbals -- CRASH! 
--and Beth comes riding out of the darkness on this huge black horse.

   "Well, I was petrified for her, of course," she went on.  "She's ridden
some, but nothing like this, a full gallop, no less.  Of course she was
stark naked.  This is not the kind of thing to put a mother's heart at
rest."

   She fanned herself theatrically.  "There was a stack of old lumber and
stuff, must have been ten feet high, right on the pitcher's mound, for a
bonfire.  She comes charging up on this monster black stallion, I think it
must be a Percheron...."

   "A gelding.  Bucephalus is a gelding, and a saddle horse, dear, don't
exaggerate," Mr.  Finch corrected meticulously as he paused with a bite of
meatloaf half way to his mouth, his cheeks dimpled from suppressing a
smile.

   "Stephanie's horse," I explained.

   "Carrying a lit emergency road flare, don't forget," Beth added.

   "Beth was carrying the flare, not Bucephalus," I pointed out.

   "Shush!  Who's telling this?" Mrs.  Finch scolded.  "She rode once
around the bases, I mean, like you'd think she was a barrel racer or
something, and tossed the flare on the pile of wood.

   "Well, it must have been soaked with something, because it went up like
Vesuvius, a big WHOOSH!" Beth's mom waved her hands.  "It shot sparks and
and a fireball, it must have been three stories high.  Well, of course that
spooked poor Bucephalus and he reared up, almost pitching her off into the
flames!"

   "Oh, pooh!" Beth snorted.  "I was at least ten feet away."

   Not to be deterred, Beth's mom went on, theatrically mopping her brow
with her napkin.  "I had visions of my favorite daughter being burned
alive!"

   Well, by now I'm practically having hysterics at her performance. 
John's meal is forgotten, a forkfull of beans half way to his mouth.

   "I'm your only daughter," Beth reminded her drily.  "And I was never in
any real danger.  But I admit I was so scared I almost peed and pooped in
my non-existent pants." She laughed.  "And Stephanie wouldn't have liked
that one bit!  She would have had to clean the saddle!"

   "Don't be vulgar, honey," Mr.  Finch scolded mildly, chuckling.

   I was trying to avoid snorting milk out my nose by now.  I swallowed
desperately.  "You think you were scared?  Bucephalus did wet his pants. 
If he'd been facing the wrong way he would have doused the fire!  As it was
he left a puddle the size of Lake Erie at second base and took off for
center field like his tail was on fire.  All he wanted was to be back in
his nice safe stall with his nose buried in a bucket of oats."

   "While I danced naked around the fire like some pagan," Beth went on,
grinning.  "My hair was dyed scarlet and gold...."

   "School colors," I put in.  I should mention that when Beth does
something she does it right!

   "...and moussed up into this wild crest, while I stirred the crowd to a
fever pitch with my naked body and cheers.  I had the whole crowd with me.
There must have been a thousand of them, students and parents and kids, all
screaming 'Beat Eastern!' at the tops of their lungs.  What a trip!"

   Have I mentioned that during The Program Beth really came out of her
shell?

   "Don't forget the fireworks," I reminded her.

   "And Daddy had set it up with a client of his for some fireworks, other
than the bonfire, I mean -- an aerial display.  Once the fire had burned
down to just some hot coals, all the field lights went out, leaving us in
the pitch black, a breathless silence, and they launched three
whatchmacalllums...."

   "Chrysanthemums," her daddy filled in.

   "CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF," I filled in the sound effects, "then, way, way up
in the night sky -- BAM -- BAM -- BAM!  Scarlet -- Gold -- Scarlet!  They
lit up the whole world.  They were humongous!"

   "...While, not twenty feet away, I stared Freschetti down, challenging
him to top that!" Beth concluded.

   "Freschetti was the football player they were feuding with, star running
back," I explained to John.

   "He didn't wilt, but I could see that he knew I'd beaten him.  Then I
skedaddled out of there into the darkness, dove into the back seat of our
car, only to practically land in my brother's lap.

   "I hadn't known Johnny was there, he'd been away at college.  So when he
got back to school, he made up that little statue for me out of a toy horse
and a naked doll, and he gave it to me for Christmas.  I mean, that was SO
sweet of him.  It's not beautiful, but I love it, though I have to admit I
don't have Barbie's attributes," she said, looking down at her modest
breasts with their delectable pink nipples.

   Nipples that I'd love to ...D well, never mind.

   "Your magic must have worked," Beth's dad pointed out.  "You beat
Eastern."

   John was kinda gaping.  "You did all that naked?  In front of a crowd?"

   "The bleachers were full, parents and students and little kids.  The
band played.  I danced around the fire, led the cheers, all while I was
naked." She made no secret of being proud of her accomplishment.

   "And we pulled it all together, the horse, the costume, if you can call
it that, the props, fireworks, everything, that very afternoon -- that took
some doing, I tell you!" Beth's mom explained.

   "My parents and friends are the greatest," Beth said proudly.  "They did
it.  They deserve a trophy."

   "She did more than that naked.  That was just the pep rally," I went on.
"She was Miss School Spirit at the football game the next day, too.  She
carried the school flag in the color guard, and led cheers, and...."

   "But I wasn't naked for that," Beth said primly, probably deliberately
interrupting me before I said something she maybe didn't want her parents
hearing, like about how she'd encouraged the team's efforts.  "I was
wearing something."

   "If you call a coat of paint 'something,'" Mr.  Finch said wryly.

   "Well, I was sticking to the letter of The Program rules, if not the
spirit," Beth admitted impishly.

   "Scarlet and gold," I pointed out.  "Head to toe, front and back.  And
who was it that painted you?"

   She dimpled prettily.  "Carl, and Stephanie, and my brother, and Mom and
Daddy," she admitted.  "The paint was cold, and the brushes really tickled,
and I had to stand really still for a long time while they did it, but it
was fun."

   I wanted to add that I would have been happy to help, but decided that
that, too, was too much information.

   "Daddy did my back," she added modestly.  "And Johnny -- he's my
brother, he's named John, too, like you, John -- he did my legs, and they
both did my arms.  Mom and Stephanie got the more interesting parts."

   I sneaked a peek at Beth's father, wondering if, just maybe, he kinda
wished he'd gotten a more interesting portion of his daughter's anatomy. 
But no, that was The Stick wondering that!  I'd never, ever think such a
thing, I assure you.

   He was blushing clear up to his bald spot by now.  "As I said, it must
have all worked.  You beat Eastern with a last minute touchdown and two
point conversion."

   "And she got carried around the field on the team's shoulders, and ...
and everything," I concluded awkwardly.

   It's general knowledge what happened in the team's locker room after the
game, kind of a legend around school, in fact, but it's one of those things
I've noticed people don't talk about much, except behind closed doors --
the show, yeah, but not the -- uh -- payoff after the game.  Beth doesn't
talk about it at all.

   I do know that Carl only loved Beth more afterwards.  He worships her.

   Anyway, now that I'm older, I've caught on that there are things parents
sort of go into a state of denial about when it comes to their children's'
lives, so I managed to cut myself off before I embarrassed everyone.

   Which reminded me, I had to call Mom and clue her in on what was going
on, I suppose, but not right now.

   "Gosh!" John was wide eyed.  "So I guess being naked is nothing special
for you guys."

   Mrs.  Finch dimpled.  "Well, it still does have an effect," she
admitted, giving her husband a teasing look.  I noticed her nipples were
stiff.  He did something in his lap with his napkin, blushing.

   "Mother!" Beth gasped, and we all laughed.  When Beth got up and started
to clear the table, I nudged John and we joined in, while the two adults
sipped their wine, looking at each other down the length of the table.  By
the time we got back from the kitchen with the chocolate pudding they'd
vanished.  Beth giggled, and blushed, and we sat down to enjoy our
desserts. After I was done I borrowed their phone and called Mom on her
cell.  When I explained about John I could hear her jaw drop.

   "John Patterson is with you?"

   I nodded, even though she couldn't see it.  "Uh huh.  He couldn't go
home, and Ms.  Andrews didn't want to involve Child Services, and I sorta
-- uh -- volunteered...."

   "I think I need to talk to Beth's mother.  Is she okay with it?"

   "She says she is and -- uh -- she's -- uh -- not exactly available right
now."

   "Why not?" Mom was instantly suspicious.

   "Uhm -- she and Mr.  Finch are ...  busy, I think."

   "You think?"

   What, I'm supposed to tell my Mom they're up in their bedroom screwing
like rabbits?  "I'm sure they're busy.  I can have her call you.  Later, I
think."

   Mom sighed.  "Please do."

   "Really, it's okay, Mrs.  Walker.  Mom's cool with it," Beth broke in.
She was on an extension.  "John really did need a place for the weekend,
and Dee was the only logical choice.  You know how close she and John have
gotten since sex ed, and John's really troubled.  She's good for him."

   "I'd still like to talk to your mother," my mom insisted.

   "This would really not be a good time."

   "Have her call me." That was Mom's no-nonsense tone.

   "Yes'm," Beth and I chimed in together.

   "But it may not be until tomorrow morning," Beth warned.

   "She is home, I trust!"

   "Yes'm, and so's Daddy.  It's just that, well, they're busy."

   "Doing what?"

   Beth and I were both fighting giggles now, even though I was a little
scared that Mom was really getting pissed off.

   "I -- we'd rather not say," Beth choked out.  "It's something very
personal, just between the two of them."

   I swear, I could hear the bed-springs from where I was downstairs!

   The silence from the other end of the line was, shall we say, very, very
pregnant.

   Then Mom sighed.  "All right.  But please, have her call me in the
morning.  And as for you, Dee...."

   "Uh, yes?" I ventured warily, envisioning a month of solitary
confinement.

   "Behave!"

   "Yes'm," I agreed obediently.  "I love you."

   "I love you, too, dear.  Talk to you tomorrow, when Mrs.  Finch calls.
Don't forget!"

   "We won't," Beth and I chimed in, holding on until we'd both hung up
before we rolled our eyes, erupted in a burst of giggles and headed back to
clean up the kitchen, only to find that John had been busy while we'd been
on the phone, so there wasn't too much more to do.

   When we finished and headed back up to Beth's room the parental units'
bedroom door was still closed, soft murmurs emanating from it.  Ah, the
afterglow!

   John looked at the little statue again.  "So you're 'Lizard Breath.'"

   Uh oh.

   "Where'd you hear that!" Beth was not pleased.

   "Uh -- it's on the base of the -- the trophy.  'Lizard Breath Rides' it
says, and the date."

   Beth turned on him.  "Nobody ever calls me that.  No one!  Ever!  Except
my brother!"

   "I'm sorry!"

   Beth softened.  "Oh, that's okay." She gave him a big hug, which
unsettled him in a different way.  "My name is really Elizabeth, and my
brother has called me Lizard Breath since I was a little squirt.  But don't
you dare ever tell anyone!"

   "Okay," he agreed humbly.  "I'm sorry.  I won't."

   She saw how upset he was and drew him into another hug.  "Oh, it's
okay," she assured him.  "I'm just tired.  It's been a busy day.  And
please, don't ever tell anyone!"

   He again assured her he wouldn't.

   It wasn't all that late, but we were all pretty tired, and tomorrow was
going to be a doozy.

   "Uh -- where do I sleep?" John asked nervously.

   We'd never discussed it, but Beth and I just looked at each other, and
without exchanging more than that glance, we answered in unison, each of us
taking one of John's arms and hugging it to our naked chests.  "With us, of
course!"

   "But...."

   "No 'buts,'" I insisted.

   "One 'but.' First a shower," Beth directed.  "I don't want three pairs
of dirty feet in my bed."

   "You guys can go first," John gallantly offered.

   "Haven't you heard?" I countered.  "There's a water shortage.  You have
to shower with a friend."

   "Or, in this case, two friends," Beth added as she got towels and stuff
and led the way to the bathroom.

   "The shower's not big enough," he protested.

   Beth was already adjusting the water.  "It is, too.  You just have to be
really, really good friends.  Which we are."

   Together we maneuvered him under the spray and joined him, the shower
door bumping my ass as Beth pulled it shut, stuffing us in under the spray.


   It was delightfully cozy, the three of us rubbing together, breasts and
elbows, pussies and a cock, fronts and backs, buttocks and boobs and all
that wonderful skin against skin.  Beth and I passed the soap back and
forth, lathering John up all over, and then lathering each other so we were
all sudsy slippery.

   John didn't have a chance.  We were all over him, like wool on sheep,
rubbing and squirming, turning our bodies into washrags for him and each
other.  Hands slithered thither and yon, exploring curves and crevices,
protrusions and protuberances.  It was a no-holds-barred soap-fest that
soon had all three of us in a lather.  Even John lost his inhibitions, at
least until I went for the crack of his ass.

   It was at that point that I felt him stiffen.  No, not his cock!  That
had risen early in the suds-a-thon.  His whole body!

   So I didn't linger there.  No siree!  I managed one quick swipe for
cleanliness and then concentrated on his front, his chest and neck and nice
trim tummy as I cuddled him warmly to my soapy bosom, what there was of it.
My slickly sudsy hand curled around his swelling cock, and I felt the
tension go out of the rest of him, like it was draining off into his dick,
making it harder, and bigger by the moment.

   So I concentrated on making that part of him feel real, real good, for
both him, and for me, to tell the truth, and he began to puff and pant and
grunt and groan, especially when I swirled my slippery palm over and around
the head of his pecker.

   He had a lovely cock, big but not too big, and hard, and growing harder,
and I thought maybe I could really get into this, if I get more experience
with it.  I'd sucked him once, and I'd had Mike's dick in me once, but I
realized most of my experience was with pussies, and maybe this was a good
time to remedy that imbalance.

   So I squoze it -- or should that be squeezed it?  It slithered through
my soapy grasp, so I slid my hand back down it, and squeezed again, letting
it slip and slither out of my grasp, so I slid my hand on it again, and
off, and his hips began to push in opposition, and it felt so good, and so
exciting.

   Beth, bless her lusty, voyeuristic nature, saw what I was doing, and
cuddled around me, watching, her sudsy fingers sliding down to curl over my
cunny, her finger slipping into my pussy.  Then she slid her other hand
down my back, and invaded that crevice, and she found my asshole, and a
finger wriggled in there and I thought I was going to DIE!

   She snuggled her wet, soft, slippery breasts against me, squirmed her
thighs around my thigh so I felt the stubble of her shaved pussy, and the
three of us all sort of humped and squirmed together, all lubricated up,
one of Beth's fingers oh so deep in my ass, with, I think, two stuffed up
into my cunt, and John's cock in my hand.  My hands, actually.  I was
giving his staff a workover with both hands, taking a little time to diddle
his balls, too.

   By now he was leaking, of course.  Somehow I could tell the difference
between soap film and the pre-come seeping from the tip of his hard on.  Oh
yeah!  He was hot, hot, hot!  I was getting hotter and hotter and hotter,
and Beth was pressing tighter and tighter and tighter against me, her hips
working to grind her pussy against my thigh.

   Yes.  Oh yes!  Oh YES!  I was, I was, I was almost there, almost,
meeting Beth's penetration and pressure on my clit with thrusts from my
hips while I simultaneously tried to stick my butt out to get her finger
deeper in my backside, and shove my thigh hard against her crotch, and she
curled her pussy fingers inside me and found that spot, that spot way
inside, the one Dr.  Smathers had found, while the barrier between my cunt
and rectum was being squeezed, and I was going up, and up and up and ...

   OVER THE TOP!

   I was soo over the top!  Over the top, top, top, top, pop, pop, pop!

   But not so much that I didn't feel John's cock pulse in my hand, and my
other hand was cupped over the tip of his dick and I felt each hot, gooey
spurt against my palm -- squirt -- squirt -- squirt -- squirt -- hotter
than the water that was spilling down on us from the showerhead, thicker
and slipperier than soap, and the musky scent filled the steamy shower
stall as his coming filled my palm with his semen, setting off another wave
of spasms in my own crotch, until I couldn't sustain it any longer and
slumped in Beth's embrace.

   As I relaxed the pressure of my butt against the shower door popped it
open, admitting a brief blast of cold air before Beth managed to yank her
fingers out of my twat and pulled the door shut again, and then we were all
sagging against each other, savoring the aftershocks, hugging and
snuggling.

   OoooooooooYEAH.  It was SO good.  So good.  Sooooo goooood.

   And then it was a warm joy to turn and tumble around, letting the water
wash away the soap and juices, leaving us feeling all clean, and limp like
the used wash rags that we were.  Our hands wandered all over again,
seeking and disposing of the soap and come lingering in various cracks and
crevices before Beth shut off the water.

   There was nothing that needed to be said, even whispered, as we dried
each other off, and then mopped up the water that had escaped the shower
before making our way back to Beth's bedroom.

   Together we slipped under the covers in a tangle of naked arms and legs
and torsos, the light from Beth's computer screen serving as a night light
at John's apologetic request.  Together we fitted together in a big,
exhausted snuggle.  I went to sleep in a cuddle so close I could feel John
and Beth's warm breath on my face and they could feel mine.

   Only to be slammed awake sometime in the night by a cry from John and an
elbow in my gut.  He was turning and tossing and thrashing.

   "NO, NO, NO!"

   He'd thrown the covers off us, the night air touching our naked bodies.
Not knowing what else to do I fought my way inside his thrashing arms at
the cost of a bruised cheek and cuddled him from one side, while Beth did
the same on the other.  Together we held him, and shushed him, afraid he
would wake the house, but it was too late.  I heard the door, light from
the hallway, knew someone was looking in, probably Beth's daddy.

   "Is he...?"

   "Nightmare, I think.  We'll handle it," I assured him.

   "Oh, well, okay.  Call if you need help."

   "We're all right, Daddy, thank you."

   John was half awake now, his panting easing, crying while Beth and I
held him and petted him.

   "I'm sorry," he apologized.

   "Sshhhhh," I responded.  "It's all right.  You're safe, you're safe."

   "There's nothing to be afraid of," Beth assured him.  "Thanks, Daddy,
we're okay."

   "G'night, punkin."

   "G'night Daddy."

   I heard the door close softly, the light from the hallway cutting off,
leaving us in the glow from Beth's computer screen, waxing and waning in
brightness and color in time with the cycle of her screen saver .

   "It's only a dream, a nightmare," I assured poor John, my fingers wiping
the tears from his cheeks.  "Nothing to be ashamed of.  It's not your
fault."

   He was calmer, but shivering and I cuddled him close, sandwiching him
against Beth on the other side.  Without really thinking, I let my lips
nibble at his cheek and his ear while my hands stroked his slender frame,
feeling his ribs, the flat of his tummy, the curls of is pubic hair.

   He was hard!  My fingers explored his shaft, folded up against his
belly, and it twitched when I touched that sensitive spot just under the
head.

   "Oh mama," he murmured, and I froze, felt Beth go rigid as well.

   "Is he awake?" she whispered softly.

   "I don't know.  But he's hard."

   Her fingers touched mine on his dick.  "Oh wow!"

   His hips were moving, just ever so slightly, rubbing his cock against my
hand.

   "What should I do?" I asked.  I didn't know, but my body had its own
ideas, I can tell you that.

   "I don't know."

   We were both whispering.

   "John, are you awake?"

   He mumbled something unintelligible, his hips still moving.

   Beth stifled a breathy giggle.  "I think he's sleep fucking!"

   "Oh dear.  Shit!"

   "What's the matter?" she asked.

   "I wanna...." "No!"

   "Yes!!"

   "You wouldn't!"

   "You think I shouldn't?" I asked her.

   "I didn't say that."

   "You think I should?" By this time my pussy was in full flower.  Oh God!
I remembered the feel of his cock in my hand in the shower, the feel of his
hot squirts of semen into my palm.  What was I doing?

   "I don't know," she countered unhelpfully.

   "MMMmmmm," John moaned, his hips still working, his cock becoming
slippery with his pre-come.

   The Stick was saying "go for it!" My brain was total mush, but my body
sure as hell knew what it wanted.

   "Move over," I urged Beth.

   "You're gonna?"

   "I -- it feels right to me," I answered.  Oh God!  What if I was wrong?
What if it was just my stupid hormones talking?

   And even while I was thinking that Beth was easing away and I was
sliding carefully over on top of him, straddling him, his body warm and
exciting against mine.  I kept my weight on my arms, my elbows, so he could
breathe.  I could feel his cock hard against my lower torso, and I slid
upward until the tip slipped between my thighs, the head of his dick
nuzzling at my pussy.

   Oh I wanted that!  Oh I did SO want that!  I was straddling his slender
hips, his dick teasing my slit with its torpedo-like nose.  Oh God, I did
so want it!

   Lesbian or not -- and I suddenly realized it sure felt like "not" -- I
wanted a fuck!

   "Are you?" Beth asked.

   Somehow I squirmed so his cock teased my lips open.  "Yeah.  Oh Beth,
hold my hand!"

   Her fingers found mine while I slowly worked his cock into position,
felt it tease my cunt open, my wet, juicy, ready cunt.

   I squirmed, and his prick eased its way into me.  It was hot, and hard,
and wedged me open, and I wormed my way down on it, his hips starting to
heave.  Was it a reflex?  Did he know what he was doing?  What I was doing?


   "Oh yes," I sighed.  "Oh yes." I groaned as I slowly impaled myself on
his hardon.  My hips rose, my cunt lifting his half seated cock, and I
lowered them, and drove his hard meat deep into my cunt, deep deep deep,
and it felt so good!

   I lifted my head and looked down on him, and his puzzled eyes met mine.
"Dee?"

   I nodded.  "Yes, it's me." I freed my hand from Beth's and touched his
cheek.

   "I was dreaming."

   "This is real," I assured him.  "It's okay."

   I didn't know if that was a statement from me, or a question for him.

   "Okay," he murmured, and I still didn't know, but it didn't matter.  It
was done.  It was doing.  I let my body have its way, my butt rising and
falling, pistoning his pecker in my pussy, deep, deep, deep in my pussy. 
Oh it felt so good!

   I kissed him, licked his face, and all the time I was pumping, pumping,
pumping, and his hips were rising to meet me with every stroke.  Out of the
corner of my eye I could see Beth, lying on the bed beside me, one leg up,
one hand pinching her tit, the other working in the shadow of her crotch,
her eyes wide with lust as she watched us fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

   We were moving, faster and faster, the bed huffing its encouragement,
bouncing him up, my crotch smacking down, my little clit going SPARK --
SPARK -- SPARK with every impact, until I felt those wonderful spasms
lurking, twitching, felt his cock swelling, and pulsing, until I felt him
spurting, spurting, spurting deep inside me, and my own coming swept over
me, a series of hot waves, my body straining until at last I collapsed on
top of him, holding him close, close, close to my burning body while my
pussy milked the moment for every drop of pleasure it could get.

   Oh my!

   Oh dear!

   Oh God!

   Oh shit!

   What if I got pregnant?

   What have I done?

   Sshhhh, The Stick said.  Sshhh.  It's all right.

   Easy for her to say, I thought, as I eased myself off John, his wilting
pecker slipping from my swamped twat, a wave of our drool sliming our
flesh.

   I consoled myself that I hadn't yet had my first period.  My only hope
was that I probably wasn't ovulating yet.

   Probably.

   It was worth the risk, I thought, as Beth moved back in so that, between
us, we had John covered, so we could shield him from his nightmares once
again.  I only did it for him, I thought.

   Yeah, right.

   I'm only twelve, God.  Not yet.  Please not yet.