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 This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
to read such a thing, don't.  If it's illegal for you to read it whoever
and wherever you are, I don't really care.  Don't read it, or don't get
caught.  Either way, that's your problem.

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   This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N.  No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production.  What part of "made up" don't you
understand?  Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com.  Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

   This and other stories available at
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   Jenny's Couch, part 13 (Flash-forward 1) (mf[yng teen], bg, mast, oral,
cutting) by Rufus Fugit

   Tuesday, second week of school

   "Hey, Karen."

   Karen closed her locker.  The hallway was still noisy but it was
emptying out; it was nearly time for the next class to start.  When the
fourteen-year-old turned and saw who had called her name, her face lit up
in a grin.  "Raymond!  I thought you were going to Cotter!"

   "I was," the gawky boy said, "But Mom and Dad broke up.  I'm staying
with him for now.  'Sides, that school was fucked.  Gangbangers pretty much
ran it."

   Raymond had been Karen's best friend-that's-a-boy-not-boyfriend since
first grade.  They'd stayed friends through junior high, though different
class schedules and developing interests had pulled them apart somewhat. 
She hadn't seen him since June when his family had moved across town, and
he had changed since then.  She had been half a head taller than him, and
now the height difference was nearly reversed.  He was skinny and gangly,
and the planes of his face were starting to change; he didn't look so much
like a little kid any more.  He still had the same curly brown mop but it
was matched by two smudges of fine, dark hair outriding his upper lip.  At
least his unique sense of style hadn't changed.  He was wearing a black
Hawaiian-style shirt printed with a flaming red dragon curled around his
torso, and loose parachute pants with a tessellated pattern of small
neon-green salamanders.

   Karen was wearing her straight blond hair loose today.  She'd cut it
over the summer so that it fell only to the middle of her back, rather than
to her butt.  Raymond had been admiring that butt before he called her
name. It filled her calf-length denim skirt nicely, looking more like a
woman's ass than the last time he had seen it.  He wondered if it would
feel any different.  She was wearing a loose yellow camisole-style top that
emphasized her golden tan.  Despite the visible bra-straps on her thin
shoulders her firm breasts jiggled slightly as she turned to face him. 
They might've grown some over the summer, too.  About the size of oranges,
they looked larger sitting high on Karen's thin frame.  Bra or not, Raymond
could see her nipples poking at the fabric of her top.  She was wearing a
little makeup, Raymond noticed, and that was new this year - some lipstick,
a little blush, not that her lovely clear complexion needed it, maybe a
touch of eyeliner.  He stepped closer to the young teenager, closed his
eyes for a second and inhaled deeply, and the noise and confusion in the
corridor faded into the background as her flowery, familiar scent tickled
his nose.  He had missed her.

   Karen looked up at her erstwhile playmate with wide blue eyes.  "I'm
sorry about your parents," she said softly.

   "'Sokay," he replied.  "They're nicer to each other now that Dad moved
out.  And they're both still in town.  Taking the bus back and forth is
kind of a bitch, though.  Shouldn't you get to class?" The hallway had
emptied around them.

   "I have lunch now."

   "Me, too.  Hey!  I wanna show you something!" he grabbed Karen's hand
and set off at a half-trot down the pale-green hallway.  Bemused, she let
herself be pulled along down the stairs to the main floor.  Raymond paused
at the entrance to the auditorium, checked briefly to make sure they were
unobserved, then slipped inside.  It was pitch-dark in the large room. 
Karen tried to stop for a second to let her eyes adjust, but Raymond tugged
at her hand so she followed, trusting that her old friend knew where he was
going.  He trailed his other hand lightly along the wall, guiding them down
past the rows of seats to the side of the stage.  As her eyes adjusted to
the dimness, Karen saw what looked like the outline of a small door on the
wall below the lip of the raised stage floor.  There was no knob or lock or
visible hinges, just a small hole near the top.  Raymond dug in his pocket
and withdrew something that looked like a giant wind-up key.  He inserted
it in the hole, turned, and pushed, and the panel swung inwards.  "Watch it
- three steps down." He led her into the dark opening.  The door mechanism
snicked shut as he pushed it closed, then at the flick of an unseen switch
a bare bulb sprang to life.

   They were in a low-ceilinged room underneath the stage.  It was dusty
and cool.  Cables snaked in all directions on the floor and hung from hooks
and trusses just above Karen's eye-level.  The floor was covered with
industrial carpeting.  There were four chairs and an overflowing ashtray
next to a thick foam pad in one corner.  Karen looked around in wonder, but
it was really no less than she'd come to expect from her friend.  They were
both freshmen at a new school, he'd been here even less time than her two
weeks, and yet he had already discovered a hidden room.  No doubt by
Christmas break he'd have rewired the intercom system to bug the
principal's office.  "What is this place?"

   "I think kids used to sneak down here to party, but look how dusty
everything is.  I don't think anyone's been here for years.  I was poking
around the other day and I recognized that weird keyhole.  It takes a
regular square-head key, and I have a whole set of them.  Piece of cake."
The boy's tone was nonchalant but he was gratified by his friend's
reaction. He made a production of wiping the thick layer of dust off two
chairs and presented her with one as if it were a throne.  Smiling in the
dim light, she sat, and he pulled the other to sit knee-to-knee with her.

   "So...I was wondering..."

   Karen's heart sank.  She tensed on the hard plastic chair.  She knew
what was coming.  There were plenty of kids here from her elementary school
and junior high, and several of them knew.  This was a big high school,
though, and she'd contrived to avoid seeing any of them yet.  She'd known
that sooner or later one of them would spot her, and it wasn't like she
expected or even wanted to avoid them for the entire four years of high
school.  But it had been years, since fifth grade, that she'd been just a
girl like any other girl in school, and she had hoped to have just a few
more days of that illusion.  She found herself unexpectedly sad, sad and
even a little angry that it was Raymond who had brought that to a close. 
She had been so happy to see him, and now it was spoiled.

   Oh well, there was nothing to be done for it.  So even as her stomach
twisted and her throat burned with hastily-swallowed tears, Karen
ruthlessly suppressed those feelings, what she thought of as the little
girl's feelings, and then the whore smiled at Raymond as if she hadn't a
care in the world.  She said blithely, "I know what you're wondering, you
horn-dog.  The Rules haven't changed." And she held out her hand.

   Raymond was relieved.  His big brother had told him how some kids tried
to reinvent themselves in high school where few people knew them.  Karen
had been his best friend for years, he had missed her for even the scant
week he'd spent at Cotter High, and he'd be her friend no matter what, but
he was also a teenaged boy.  He'd been hard since he'd seen Karen standing
at her locker with her golden tan shoulders and her tight butt filling out
her skirt.

   Raymond had learned the Rules back in fifth grade.  It had been at a
Christmas party at someone's house, he didn't even remember who now.  It
had been the first boy-girl party for everyone there, or nearly so.  Some
of the boys hadn't been quite sure how they felt about girls yet and vice
versa, but when one of the more advanced kids had explained the rules for
"Seven Minutes In Heaven", no one was willing to look like a baby and
before long the giggling group of fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-graders were
gathered in the spare bedroom.  When Raymond's turn came, he was
disappointed that the bottle came to rest pointing at Karen.  They'd been
friends for so long it felt as if he'd chosen his sister.  Stuffed into the
small closet with coats and linens pressing their bodies together, he'd
started to tell her that it was OK if they didn't do anything, they could
just pretend so the kids wouldn't tease them.  But he'd hardly gotten a
word out before Karen had pushed her hand into his crotch and squeezed. 
Best friend or not, he'd popped a boner instantly.  Before he could recover
from the surprise, the blonde eleven-year-old had dropped to her knees. 
She'd grabbed the waistband of his board shorts and smoothly tugged them
down his thighs and his lungs emptied in shock as she engulfed his stiff
little wiener in her warm, wet mouth.  In the dim light filtering through
the louvered closet door he gaped down at his friend kneeling before him.
Her blue eyes were round, pupils dilated in the dimness as she looked up at
him.  Her lips made an "O" as they slid down his stalk.  She sucked its
entire length easily, his hairless nutsack coming to rest against her chin.
With no basis for comparison, he had no way of knowing how expertly she
swirled her tongue around the circumcised head of his penis.  He just knew
it felt amazing, a thousand times better than when he stroked it himself in
bed at night.  He also couldn't know it was no coincidence that just as he
felt himself tensing, ready for the super-good feeling to burst over him,
Karen pulled her mouth off of him.  She wrapped her hand around the base of
his boycock, pressing her thumb firmly into the root as she rubbed her
smooth cheek against the hairless, spit-moistened staff.  His nuts drew up
and his penis swelled and twitched in her hand, but the pressure
forestalled his dry climax.

   "Feels good, doesn't it?" she had purred, and he could only nod dumbly
at the strange, hungry note in his friend's voice and the sight of his
pale, stiff penis lying along the side of her oval face.  Then she smiled
up at him, and that mischievous grin was again completely unlike the shy,
obedient girl he'd known since they were six.  "Did you get twenty dollars
in your birthday money?" she whispered, and again he nodded.  "Come over
after church tomorrow and bring it with you, and I'll make it feel even
better." Then she was pulling his pants up, and she stood and opened the
closet door.  The kids had hooted and laughed when he stumbled out, dazed
and red-faced.

   The next day he had surrendered his twenty dollars to Karen's hand and
his innocence to her mouth, and he had learned the Rules.  The first Rule
was, you don't tell anyone, no matter what.  You brag to your friends, you
let it slip, you tell anyone, Karen had said, and I'll get in trouble.  And
if I get in trouble, you'll get in trouble.  And even if you don't get in
trouble, I'll never do it with you ever again, no matter how nicely you
ask. The second Rule was, friends were one thing and business was another.
You're my friend forever, she'd told him, but I only do sex for money,
period.  When he'd asked why she would only say, "Because I'm a whore." He
hadn't understood the defiant way she'd looked at him when she said it, as
if she were expecting him to tease her or something; but then he hadn't
really known what the word meant.  That night he'd looked it up in the big
dictionary on its stand in his father's study.  Then he'd had to look up
"prostitute".

   After he'd sworn to follow the Rules she'd shown him something special,
because they were friends, after all.  Kneeling on the cold ground in the
hidden clearing in the park, she'd lifted her skirt to show him that she
wasn't wearing panties.  He'd been transfixed at the sight of her smooth,
pale skin, the first and still the only girl's privates he'd ever seen.  He
thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.  She'd shown him how
girls make themselves feel good, just like boys only different, and she'd
taught him how to help.  He still remembered the sharp, sweet, musky scent,
the feel of her hot skin underneath his touch, the creamy, slippery wetness
coating his fingers, the way she'd shivered and put her arms around him
when she got her own good feeling, and her sleepy, loving smile afterwards.

   For months after that, Karen had gotten nearly every penny from him, his
birthday and Christmas money and his earnings from chores and such. 
Finally she'd made him stop for awhile when his parents started wondering
where all his money was going, then she'd kind of rationed him.  She'd
still let him do her for free which wasn't nearly as good but it was better
than nothing.  When he turned twelve he'd started babysitting and then he
had more money.  Karen insisted that he save at least half of it.  That was
OK; it made him feel good inside to know his friend was looking out for
him, and he still had enough money for her to blow him twice or three times
a month, or fuck once.  He went back and forth on which he preferred. 
Having to wait a whole month before she would touch his penis again was
agonizing, but on the other hand he had a little boy's stamina and would
stay hard for hours.  She'd fuck him as he shuddered through three, four,
even five dry orgasms until they both got tired or she got sore. 
Afterwards was nearly as nice, cuddling together like puppies, naked if
they had the house to themselves, dressed if their parents were home or
might get home soon or if they were outside in the park or a vacant lot.

   He'd missed her a lot when he'd moved at the end of eighth grade.  She
was just a long bus ride away, but he'd gone on vacation, then when he got
back she was traveling with her family, and then things started to go bad
between his parents and he didn't feel like doing much of anything but hide
out in his room.  Today his heart had leapt when he'd seen her in the
hallway, even as his teenaged penis had stiffened.

   Karen closed her hand, crumpling the twenty that Raymond placed in it.
He noticed that her knuckles were white with tension, and he looked up to
see a strange, hard light in his friend's eyes.  Her tone was carefree as
it always was, but she looked almost...angry.  Angry and sad.  "Are you
OK?" he asked hesitantly.  "We don't have to...I mean, if you don't
want..."

   "Screw that," she said, shocking him.  This was a girl who could barely
bring herself to say "poop" out loud when she dropped a full casserole dish
on the kitchen floor and shattered it.  She tucked the bill into her
handbag as she stood, stooping slightly under the low ceiling.  She hiked
up her denim skirt, reached under the fabric and shimmyed her hips. 
Raymond went all shivery inside as a pair of silky red panties fell to rest
on Karen's plain black flats.  She picked up one foot and stepped out of
them, leaving them around the other ankle as she settled on her knees on
the mattress-sized foam pad.  Raymond turned to face her, sighing as she
slid both hands up his thighs towards the obvious tent in his pants.  She
gathered the loose fabric and slowly jacked him once, twice.  "Looks like
you've been growing all over," she said teasingly.  "Let's have a look."

   Karen nuzzled her face into Raymond's crotch, inhaling her friend's
scent.  It was familiar but different, harder somehow, muskier with the
changes in his body since they had last seen each other.  She deftly untied
the drawstring and hooked her fingers into his waistband.  Raymond lifted
his butt off the seat as she pulled, snagging his briefs as well and
pulling both all the way down to puddle at his ankles.  She pushed his bare
knees apart and moved back between them.  Raymond sighed, "Ohhh..." as she
gently grasped his tool in her hand, moving it back and forth and examining
it.  Her nail polish, a pale pearlescent yellow, matched her top.

   Her breath was warm on his penis as she spoke.  It was pale and thin,
like him, and familiar in her hand.  They had grown up together, starting
as a little child's willy barely more than a button that she held pinched
between thumb and forefinger.  He wasn't adult-sized yet - Karen was quite
familiar with that range - but fit comfortably in her palm.  "This is new,"
she said, stroking her fingers down to the small patch of dark hair growing
just above the staff.  Raymond's new pubes were still silky and soft to her
touch.  She played with them for a few seconds, then wrapped her thumb and
forefinger around the staff to angle it up at her mouth.  Extending and
flattening her tongue, she slowly licked the underside from base to tip,
pausing for just a moment to swirl her tongue around the flaring head. 
Then she pursed her lips, blowing cool air gently on the wet skin back down
to his still-hairless scrotum.  She licked up each side of him the same
way, tasting the sweat and the stronger flavor of maleness he'd acquired
over the summer.  As she circled the head again, precum started to flow,
adding a faint gooey sweetness to the mix.

   "Oh, damn..." Raymond breathed out as Karen sealed her lips around his
cockhead and began to suck him in earnest.  "Eat me, Karen, eat me you
cocksucking whore," he began the familiar litany.  Karen had taught him
what to say in sixth grade.  He didn't understand why, really, but she
liked to hear him say the words while they were sexing - but only then. 
He'd never seen her so angry as once when during some silly argument over
tv preferences he'd called her a whore.  She'd burst into tears and fled
his house.  She wouldn't speak to him for two weeks after that, hanging up
when he called to apologize, turning on her heel when he tried to talk to
her at school.

   He remembered that now because as he spoke he felt her fist tighten
around him.  He looked down to see her eyes flashing, that strange look of
almost-anger in them again.  The words died in his throat.  Karen slurped
off the end of his tool.  "Well?" she demanded in a choked, harsh tone. 
"Cat got your tongue?  You want to talk, talk," and with that she plunged
her mouth back onto him, vigorously and noisily licking and sucking up and
down his length.

   Raymond knew something wasn't right, but Karen's expert fellatio was
driving rational thought out of his teenage mind.  He didn't know what else
to do, so he did as his friend asked.  "Suck me, whore, eat my cock, eat me
for lunch," he resumed.  He reached down and placed his hands on Karen's
bare shoulders, feeling the warm flesh and watching her firm titties bounce
as her head bobbed up and down.

   His words burned through Karen, kindling a familiar fluttery heat in her
tummy and below.  Her right hand snaked under her skirt and she gasped
around her mouthful of cock as her fingers found her cunt.  She had no time
or desire to tease herself today.  She was already wet.  She spread her
thighs a little wider and slid her middle finger into her hot channel.  She
began fingering herself in time with her blowjob.  Juice flowed out of her
cunt - "my whore babycunt" - she said to herself.  Despite the covering of
her denim skirt she could smell herself and hear her finger squishing in
and out.  Her ears burned red at the thought that Raymond would smell and
hear it, too.  She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar waves of arousal
and humiliation course through her.  "I'm a whore," echoed endlessly in her
mind as it always did.  With each silent repetition, as always pride and
pain, pleasure and shame tangled in her mind and roiled her stomach, and
the heat between her legs grew more intense.  Her clitoris was begging for
attention.  She groaned around Raymond's tool as she slid a second finger
into herself, and pressed her thumb against the wet, swollen nub.  Cunt
cream poured out of her, filling her palm and dripping onto the foam
beneath.

   Raymond's toes curled in his sneakers.  Karen's mouth felt so familiar
and so good wrapped around his cock.  He moved his hands up to the sides of
her head, stroking her ears and cheeks as they bulged and hollowed, careful
not to muss her hair - that was another rule when time was short, she had
to be presentable when they were done.  He felt his abdomen tighten as his
orgasm approached and realized he had to give her warning.  He barely had
time to grit out "Karen...I'm making spunk now..." before the first spasms
took him.

   Karen wasn't bothered by the small amount of runny goo that spurted into
her mouth.  By her reckoning over the past three years she had swallowed
quarts of cum, starting with the first load her uncle had shot into her
mouth as she knelt naked on the ground at her elementary school playground.
She had choked then.  She'd been scared.  She hadn't known.  Now she knew.
She knew what she was.  She wasn't scared, and she didn't choke.  She
savored the salty flavor of her best friend's ejaculation on her tongue and
swallowed.  Every drop, like a good whore should.

   "Oh, Karrrrren," Raymond moaned as he twitched and shuddered and pumped
his scant load into her.  His orgasms had been getting more and more
intense since he started making semen, but this - the first wet cum not by
his own hand - was even that much stronger.  He stroked Karen's hair the
way he usually did as she finished him off the way he liked, rubbing her
tongue all over his shaft while she sucked hard.  Meanwhile, Karen was
plunging her fingers deep into her cunt, faster and faster.  Her clit was
standing out and she flicked and rubbed it with increasing violence. 
Pleasure stabbed through her, pleasure and a burning heat, rising up
through her belly.  Her nipples were swollen and the soft fabric of her bra
felt almost painful against them.  Her face was hot; she could feel the
sexual flush coursing through her and sweat stung her eyes.  But it wasn't
quite enough.  It was like her cunt was numb...no, like her brain was numb.
Her babycunt was as hot as it has always been, driving her, owning her as
it had for years, but she couldn't...quite...get there!

   Karen groaned in frustration as she fell backwards, writhing on the
dusty foam as she jabbed her fingers into her slick, leaking vagina.  She
yanked up the back of her skirt to keep it dry as her adolescent juices ran
down her thighs to puddle beneath her ass.  She drew up her legs, her
panties dangling from one ankle and tossing back and forth with her motion.
"Ugh!  Ugh!  Ugh!" she grunted with each stab of her fingers.  Her eyes
were screwed shut, face twisted with strain.  "Raymond!  Help me!"

   The teenager knelt beside his masturbating friend, alarmed at the
violence with which she was penetrating herself.  She'd always been a
little rough, even as a fifth-grader, but this was new, as was her apparent
inability to climax.  As long as he'd known her she'd had a hair trigger.
Sometimes when she was excited, all he had to do was blow on her oversized
clitoris.  Just a puff of air on the wrinkled bud was enough to send her
off, squirming and squealing with pleasure.  Raymond was even more confused
when he saw her rummaging in her handbag with her free hand, coming out
with something that he first took for a pen and holding it out to him.  He
took it automatically and only then realized that it wasn't a pen, it was
an exacto knife.  Just the tip of the blade protruded from the guide,
glinting in the dim light.  He looked from it to Karen's sweaty face and
back.  "What...?"

   "Here!" Karen commanded, yanking up the front of her skirt.  Raymond had
seen Karen's vulva countless times since they were both eleven.  She was
still bare, he saw.  He knew she shaved - he'd even helped her once or
twice.  Her labia majora were slick and swollen and flushed with blood. 
Her thin inner lips flowered open, also dark red and shiny with her
secretions.  More honey squelched out around her fingers with every thrust,
covering her hand and thighs and staining the pad she lay on.  She was
pushing her thumb so hard against her clit that the wrinkled nub was
stretched and pressed flat.  He had seen all of this before.  His gaze was
riveted, not on her genitals, but her left thigh.  At the top, just below
the crease at her hip, the skin was marred with a crisscross of angry red
scabs.  Some were fresh, some were healing, some were just faint pale lines
against her golden skin.  He looked at the knife in his hand, and
swallowed. "What...?" he repeated, not even sure what question he wanted to
ask.

   "Help me, please help me!" Karen's high-pitched whine startled him out
of his half-trance.  "Cut me, just cut me a little.  Please!" She was
tossing her head back and forth.  Her perky tits bounced under her top as
her body jerked and writhed.

   Raymond was stunned.  He'd never seen Karen like this.  From the
beginning, even moaning in the throes of juvenile or adolescent orgasm,
she'd always been the leader, been in control.  Now she was almost begging.
"I...I can't," he choked out.

   "God damn it, Raymond!" He jerked as if electrified.  He'd never heard
Karen swear, not once, not ever.  "Do it!  Do it!" she snarled.  "Damn you,
do it now!" As if compelled by the desperation in her voice his arm reached
out on its own.  He pointed the blade downwards, holding it above her
scarred thigh, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her with it.

   Karen jerked her leg upwards, jamming the blade into her skin, piercing
to the depth of the exposed steel, an eighth of an inch or so.  Raymond
started and pulled away, dragging the knife three inches across the network
of old cuts before it tore free.  "AIEEGH!" Karen screamed.  The pain broke
something free inside her and finally she fell over the edge.  "YES!  YES!
Oooooh, GEEZ!" she cried as red flares exploded behind her eyes and her
cunt clamped down on her fingers.  Bright blood welled from the fresh cut
and dripped down the inside of her thigh, mingling with the creamy goo
smearing her skin.

   Raymond stared down in horror as his friend tensed and shuddered through
her orgasm.  Karen looked like she was undergoing torture, not pleasure. 
With a final groan she went limp.  Her legs fell open.  She withdrew her
fingers from her gaping cunny and covered it with her palm, rubbing herself
gently.  Slowly her features smoothed out as the strain left her face.  She
heaved a huge sigh and opened her eyes.  What Raymond saw there scared him
even more.  They were empty.  For a second it was like his best friend was
just...not there.  Then the moment passed, and she raised her head to look
down at her bloodied thigh.  Smoothly, as if she had done it many times
before, she reached into her bag and withdrew a large gauze pad.  She tore
it open and held it in her slimed hand to blot up the blood, pressing it
against the fresh shallow cut for a minute until the flow stopped.  Then
she crumpled the pad, tucked it back in its sterile wrapper and put it back
in her bag.

   Karen reached down and pulled her panties off her ankle.  Her scent hung
heavy in the air around her as she used them to wipe the cunt cream off her
thighs and crotch and fingers.  They were fairly soaked by the time she
finished.  She considered for a moment, realized that she had P.E.  last
period, and so untangled them and slid them back on, working the wet fabric
back up her legs and into place with some difficulty.  She pulled out her
compact and checked her face as well as she could in the dim light,
carefully wiping away smeared lipstick with her thumb and patting her hair
back into place.  Raymond was trying to ask her something.  Maybe the
little girl would have turned to her friend for help or comfort, but the
whore wasn't interested and so she ignored him.  She got her feet under her
and stood a little shakily, and walked over to the stairs leading up and
out to the auditorium.  Her abused clitty stung with each step as the damp
cloth rubbed against it.  The fresh wound burned a little too; she stepped
carefully to avoid tearing it open.

   She pressed the latch and eased the panel open just enough to peer out.
Concealment and caution were second nature to her by now.  The auditorium
was dark and silent.  Raymond was still trying to talk to her; she shook
her head as at an annoying insect buzzing around her and stepped out.  By
the time Raymond got his pants up and followed, the only sign of her
departure was a narrow shaft of light, quickly cut off as the auditorium
door swung silently shut.