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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 19  (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2006 08:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Sam - Part19.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 19

by Samantha K
(FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
[comments welcome: SamanthaK(at)fastmail.fm]

When I woke up in the morning it was very bright in the room, I
rolled over to look at the clock and saw that I had slept later
than I could remember ever doing.  I did the math and found that
I had my usual eight hours.  It was just delayed a few hours
because I had got in so late the night before.

"Or the morning of," I corrected myself.  

Being a night-owl was a new experience for me.  I felt that the
day was almost half gone because I hadn't gotten up before nine.

I slid off the high mattress and padded over to the mirror that I
had used to reassure myself that I was someone who was quite
capable of taking care of herself.  The reflection was a girl in
the usual all-over light-tan, blemish-free skin I normally wore.
This rang a small bell in the back of my head and I remembered
that I had gone to sleep wearing my fully-animated Dragon-skin. 
I thought about it and remembered what had happened when I conked
my head on the roof of Smith and Jones' car.  My skin had
reverted back then too.

"The animation takes conscious control to maintain," I reasoned.
"The static stuff stays put until I change it, but anything
moving means I have to keep thinking about it to keep it going. 
That's good to know."

I suppose I had become complacent because it was so easy to turn
it on and off now that I had had so much practice at it.  I was
happy to have figured it out, because this was one more clue to
how all this worked.

Because I was running late, I remembered that Brute's breakfast
was late, too.  The surge of guilt sent me right out the door to
get the poor dog some food.  It wasn't til I was halfway down the
second flight of stairs that I noticed I was still in my skin.

"Not early enough to be streaking outside," I thought, and I
called up my blue bikini from my mental wardrobe.

I still felt underdressed.  The backyard was private and all, but
this late on a Saturday morning there were likely to be more
people out doing stuff in their yards.  I tried to expand the
bikini into a pair of shorts and a tube-top.  When I paused to
look in the hall mirror, the shorts looked very nice and quite
credible, but the tube-top was a miserable failure.  It looked
absurd wrapped around my boobs and into my cleavage and wasn't
going to fool anyone, even at a distance on a foggy day.  I went
back to the bikini-top with triangular cups that worked pretty
well, if you didn't notice the nipple-rings poking out of
button-holes on the front.

The shorts also looked good out in the sun, especially after I
had worked on the seams and the texture of the fabric some more,
so I filed them away as another item I could return to whenever I
wanted.

I hadn't really thought much about using my skin-changing ability
to simulate clothes.  Mom seemed to be determined to make me as
much of a clothes-horse as she was, and Mr. Morton was such a
design genius, that it didn't seem necessary for me to invent
fake clothes.  The bikini was a spur-of-the-moment joke and I had
put so much effort into developing the Dragon that anything less
impressive seemed anticlimactic.  The bikini and the shorts
proved that I could do other things though and that intrigued me.
 As long as the garment I copied was normally thin and
tight-fitting, I could probably duplicate it in a way that would
pass as long as no one got a really close look, or touched it. 
If someone got that close, they were probably someone I wouldn't
mind finding out that I was really naked anyway.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me,
though.  My imaginary clothes would never need washing  
something that occurred to me while Brute and I wrestled around
the yard.  They would never wrinkle, or get ripped, or fall off
my scrawny ass, as some of my shorts kept trying to do.

I had seen some photos on the Internet of models wearing
body-paint that looked like clothes and I thought that I could
probably outdo them with the level of detail I could manage.  I
had also seen some photos of girls wearing paint that was just
for decoration and that intrigued me too, but I'm not enough of
an artist to think of something original.  Finger-painting in
kindergarten was about as far as my artistic leanings went.  I
probably owe somebody royalties for copying their Dragon.

Still, if I could save Mom from spending time scrubbing
grass-stains out of the seat of a pair of shorts, it seemed
worthwhile to wear my new outfit when I was going to be in the
dog's domain.  I always showered after playing with him anyway,
and my skin was both repairable and shrink-resistant.  As choices
in clothing went, during Spring and Summer, a bikini-top and
shorts was just about a uniform for girls hereabouts.  If I could
get away with any kind of ersatz clothing, this would be the most
likely outfit.

So, when I stepped out of the shower after washing the smell of
Brute off of me, I put back on the same shorts and top, just to
see if anyone would notice.



Breakfast wasn't the cold bowl of cereal I had expected for being
such a slugabed.  When I came downstairs the second time I
smelled wonderful things happening in the kitchen.  I was about
to poke my nose in when the door swung open and Jim came through
carrying a glass and a pitcher of orange juice.

"Good morning, Jim," I said, perhaps too perkily.

Jim barely glanced at me in passing as he walked around to his
usual spot at the table, plopped down in the chair and very
carefully poured himself a tumbler of juice.

I remained standing to give him the best opportunity to admire my
imaginary clothes, but he took a gulp of juice and then hung his
head and stared morosely into the glass.

"Ah!" I said, understanding the situation.  "Is someone a wee bit
hung over this morning?"

Jim mumbled something that I was probably better off not hearing
and took a smaller sip of juice before resuming his bleary-eyed
study of the pulp floating in his glass.

"A better person than me wouldn't say this," I said, nobly. 
"But, you did this to yourself, you know."

"Yeah," he mumbled.  "I know.  I shouldn't have drunk all that
beer.  But I was fine until this morning.  Or I thought I was."

"What did Mom say when she saw you like this?"

"Nothing.  But she didn't have to.  Neeka said it all last night
when I walked her home."  

"Oh."

He looked miserable enough, so I dropped the subject.  I was sure
that Neeka had already made all the points I could have, and
besides, I wasn't in the best moral position to be preaching to
him about the evils of alcohol.  But for my ability to run my
metabolism at high speed, we might both be suffering.

"Mom is experimenting with omelets this morning," he volunteered,
probably grateful for my silence.  "She's in there making the
mother of all omelets now."

"That's good, because I can eat a horse."

Jim just nodded.  Perhaps he wasn't sure if his stomach was ready
for eggs quite yet.

"Where's Bud?"

"Mom said he went over to Jolene's house this morning.  He rode
his bike over."  Jim chuckled.  "He hasn't had that thing out in
over a year."

"She rode hers over here, so he must have got the idea from her.
Besides, now they can go riding together.  And on bikes she'll
probably feel comfortable."

"If they don't just hang out at her house.  He was nervous about
meeting her parents, you know."

Actually, I didn't.  Bud didn't talk much about his feelings,
even when we were in the sack.  Unless it was about what we were
doing at the moment, that is.  I didn't know if he had or hadn't
met Jolene's folks until this moment.  I wondered if they had
gone riding or if they were just hanging out at her house.  

I imagined Bud sitting on a sofa with Jolene with her parents in
the room.  I couldn't begin to imagine the conversation.  I just
had no frame of reference for the situation.  I had certainly
never had a boy come into the house and try to have a
conversation with Yvette.  It would have sparked World War III if
one had tried!

Jim's head cleared enough for him to raise his head and squint in
my direction.  He rubbed his forehead and said, "Nice.  You look
nice today."

It sounded a little forced, so I wasn't sure if he was being
honest or he just thought I was fishing for the complement by
posing.  Either way, he gave no indication that he had caught on
to the deception.

"Thank you," I said, pulling out a chair, just a Mom came in with
a couple of plates.

"Well," she said, seeing me at the table, "Good morning,
sleepyhead!  You don't look nearly as bad as Jim here."  Jim said
she hadn't said anything to him directly, but she couldn't resist
getting in an off-hand dig.

"Don't give me any credit," I confessed.  "I was every bit as bad
as Jim.  I just got away without suffering the consequences. 
Don't worry.  I'm on the wagon from now on.  No more liquor for
me."  I shrewdly left the door open for the occasional beer.

"Me too!" Jim groaned emphatically.  "It's just not worth it."

I suspected he may have been thinking about the talking-to he had
got from Neeka the night before, rather than his hangover; but
his regret seemed sincere, so I didn't pursue it.

Mom took her cue from me and went back into the kitchen without
another word.  She came back with another serving of omelet and I
wondered how many eggs she had cracked to make one omelet this
big.

"When are you going on your 'play-date'?" She asked.  She was
reminding me, in case I had forgotten about George.

"I guess as soon as I finish this, I said.

"You're going to wear that top?  I thought you'd want to save
that for the beach tomorrow."

I chewed politely before answering.  Mom knew about the fake
bikini.  I looked at her out of the corner of my eye to see if I
could tell if she knew which one I had on at the moment.  She
wasn't smiling.  She didn't know.  She couldn't tell.  Damn, I
was good!

"No.  I was thinking about my demin jumper," I said, once I had
swallowed.  "The one we got at Mr. Morton's the first time?"

The jumper was one of the things we bought 'off the rack' that
was a bit too small.  It was a sleeveless baby-blue one-piece
with a darling lace collar and matching little lace cuffs around
the arm and leg-openings.  The legs were cut as high as a pair of
short-shorts.  Unlike most clothes, it was small enough in the
rear so that it fit my butt very nicely; which was why I bought
it.  And it zipped up the front, so I could be as daring as I
wanted to be with how far I left it open.  The only drawback was
that it was really too small in the bust.  I had to leave the
zipper down quite a bit, or it looked like it was squashing me.

I had thought of the jumper because it was the closest thing to
play-clothes that I had and I wanted to get into the spirit of my
play-date with George.  I was sure George would like it, and it
might jar his mother into accepting the fact that her son was all
grown up now.

Mom was staring, now.  A smile spread across her face as she
realized that she was being put-on.

"The shorts too?" She asked.

I nodded and stood up so she could get a good look.

"Amazing!  The rings gave it away as soon as I noticed them.  But
it does look remarkably real."

"Thank you.  I wondered if anyone would notice."

She nodded toward Jim, who was concentrating on eating his
portion of the omelet and keeping his head from falling off his
shoulders.  I shook my head and shrugged.  In his present
condition, Jim wasn't really a fair test.  With Bud gone and my
date with George coming up, this was another experiment that
would have to be postponed.



I found that I had a pair of canvas flats that matched my new
denim jumper.  They were a couple of years old and a little
faded, but they would be perfect for the look I wanted   seven
going on eighteen and ready to play.  When I checked myself in
the mirror I found that the 'seven' part wasn't working very
well, but it still looked darling, and with the zipper I could
regulate the level of sexy from mild to 'oh, wow'.  I decided to
start off a tooth or two past modest and make adjustments from
there.  I had no idea what George might want to do.

Actually, I had one idea.  Based on our first encounter, I was
pretty sure George would like me to help him with his 'problem'
whenever it came up.  I was cool with that.  Treating it
casually, rather than seriously, would make it easier for George
to deal with.  Having me act like it was no big deal would take
some of the stress out of it for George.  And his mother too, I
reminded myself.

George might qualify as one of my 'projects', but mostly I just
wanted to get to know him.  He seemed like a nice guy and the
fact that he and I were the same height made him almost
irresistible.  Growing up, I had learned to cope with living in a
world full of people who were all much taller than I was, but it
was still wonderful to have met someone who was on my level.  If
for no other reason, I hoped George and I would become good
friends.



Once I was dressed and ready, my fanny-pack in place, Mom
suggested I might have forgotten something.

"Where do the Whitleys live?" she asked.

"Moreland Court.  It's over by de Leon Park."  In fact it was two
blocks from another house where I had spent an interesting
afternoon.  Small world.

"How had you planned to get there?  That's three miles from
here."

"Walk.  Jog.  I'm dressed for it and it's a nice day.  It will
only take me a few minutes.  Less if I can sprint when no one's
looking."

"But you'll get all sweaty!  Let me take you."

"I bet I won't.  I will take more than a short jog to make me
sweat.  But thanks, I'll take you up on that."



It took Mom longer to get fixed to drive me over than I had
expected it to take me to get there on foot, but I figured this
was just another way she wanted to show me she cared, so I was
patient about it.

I was also patient when she pulled into the Whitley's driveway,
turned off the engine and got out of the car.  I suppose I
thought she would just drop me off.  I didn't think that she
would want to meet the Whitleys, too.  I mean, even though she
was leaving me with strangers, she hardly needed to verify that I
would be in good keeping.  Although when I thought about it that
way, it seemed very motherly of her.

I don't know if Lucinda Whitley was expecting to meet Mom or not,
but she didn't seem surprised to see both of us when she opened
the door.  After a brief introduction, she showed us into a
modest but immaculate living room that looked like it was ready
for an appearance in a magazine.  Even the magazines on the
coffee table seemed to have been selected and arranged to match
the colors of the room.  I wondered if Mom and Mrs. Whitley had
the same decorator.

We were just sitting down when George came in.  He looked happy
to see me.  Judging by the thorough up and down look he gave me,
my choice of outfit met with his approval.  I wanted to give him
a big hug for that, but I wanted to see what Mom and Lucinda
would have to say to each other, so I took George's hand and
pulled him down to sit next to me on the couch.  Unfortunately,
Mom had other ideas.

"Sam," she said, "why don't you and George run along and play
while Lucinda and I have a chat."

I couldn't think of a good argument as to why I should be allowed
to stay, other than blatant curiosity.  I wouldn't have tried to
argue even if I could, it wouldn't have been polite.  So George
and I left the room so our mothers could discuss us in private.

George took me upstairs to his room, which was equally as
immaculate as the living room.  I was impressed that it was just
as clean and organized as my own room, which I made a point to
keep in the same pristine condition as it was when Mom presented
it to me.  That condition was in marked contrast to Jim and Bud's
rooms, which were anything but clean and organized.

George saw me looking and confessed, "It's not usually this neat.
 Mom and I spent all of last night and most of this morning
straightening up.  She even made me change my shirt before you
got here."  

"You didn't need to do all this for me!" I said.  

George's knit shirt and pressed khaki shorts did look good on
him, though.  I was flattered that Lucinda had gone to so much
trouble on my account.

"Well, I think it's mainly for your mother.  I showed Mom the
address you gave me and she just about hit the ceiling when she
found out who your mom was."

"Oh!"

I felt a momentary pang of jealousy that this visit had suddenly
become about a visit by 'Mrs. Reynolds'.  After which, I didn't
know whether to laugh or be embarrassed.  I had been upstaged by
Mom's social status and reputation and I was ashamed of my
reaction.  I had been through a lot lately, and I guess I had got
used to being at the center of things.  Here was a perfectly
clear reminder that no matter how dramatic my life had become,
not everything was about me.

"It's OK," George said.  "My room probably needed to be cleaned
up anyway.  And I found a few things that had got lost, too."

That sounded more like it.  You could have misplaced any number
of things in Jim's room and not found them for days.  Mom's
comment about not leaving any surprises for the cleaning people
started to make more sense. 

"So," I said, trying to get my mind off the conversation going on
in the living room   a conversation that I now understood was
even less my business than I had supposed it to be.  "When you
told me about your school, I pictured this big prison full of
boys, all dying to get out.  I guess I thought they kept you
under lock and key."  I had even fantasized about smuggling
myself in so I could find out what it would be like to be the
only girl locked up with hundreds of lonely boys.

"I probably exaggerated some.  It's not really that bad.  It just
seems like a prison because it's all guys and no girls.  The
security is pretty tight, though.  There is a fence around the
place, and guards at the gate.  You have to show your ID to get
in in the morning, and you need a pass to get off the grounds
during school hours.  It's just a lot more...restrictive than
regular school.  The sports requirement is one thing.  They also
have a strict dress code that's very last-century, you know?"

"Yeah.  I understand."  George and I had more in common that I
had thought.  I knew just how he felt, dealing with all those
rules and restrictions.  

"So, you want to go over and hit the mall, or go to a movie, or
just hang out here and listen to some tunes.  I have almost all
of Steel Flytrap's CDs."

I hated to tell George that I had never developed a taste for
Metal.  It all just sounded like an excuse for a headache to me.
I wasn't real fond of Rap, either.  I preferred music that had a
melody and didn't hurt your ears.  I scanned George's collection
politely, but there wasn't much there that appealed to me.

The idea of going out somewhere with George did sound good,
though.

"I don't want to put your Mom out or anything." I said.

"Oh, she won't mind.  I already asked her if she minded me taking
the car, in case we wanted to go somewhere."

I had been so used to being dependant on others for
transportation that I hadn't even considered that someone with a
driver's license could just walk out of the house, get in the car
and go wherever they wanted.  I suppose having a doting mother,
as well as my own personal chauffeur, and a rather unique form of
transport had spoiled me and insulated me from the ordinary
pleasures of the real world.  Going for a ride with George
sounded perfect.

"OK, let's go," I said.  "Anywhere you want!"

Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Whitley were chatting away when George and
I stuck our heads in long enough for him to tell his mother we
were leaving.

"That's fine, dear.  Have a good time!" Mrs. Whitley called out
as George grabbed the keys off the hook and we dashed outside.

Mom just smiled and waved at me as George dragged me along behind
him.  I suppose an opportunity to get out of the house sounded
pretty good to him.  We barely touched the steps on the way out
of the house.

George rolled all the windows down as soon as we were in the car.
 I started to object, because the wind would mess-up my hair, but
riding along with the breeze blowing through the car seemed to go
along with the sense of freedom I felt, so I didn't say
anything.

"Um, I like your   ah   shoot, whatever it is," George stammered,
taking a hand off the wheel long enough to wave at my playsuit.

"'Jumper'," I said, "And thank you kindly.  I think it's cute. 
If a little snug."  

I pulled my shoulders back to emphasize where it was snug on me.
George turned his head and looked.  He looked a little too long
and when he looked back he had to jerk the wheel to keep the car
from running into the curb.

"Sorry," he said.

"My fault.  We should park somewhere if I'm going to flirt like
that."

That suggestion was almost as much of a distraction and George
slowed down and turned his head to look at me a couple of times
without saying anything.  The second time he did it I figured out
that he was wondering how I was using the word 'park'.  Did I
mean 'park' as in pull the car over to the curb, or 'park' as in
pull the car into some secluded spot and see how far the seats
would recline.

I just smiled and stayed mum.  I might flirt   it seemed to be
something I did by reflex   but I wasn't going to encourage
George into anything sexual,  If he wanted me, I wouldn't refuse,
but I had already promised myself that I wouldn't tease him or
take advantage of his 'problem' in any way.

Actually, I had expected him to bring up that issue before we
left the house.  I had expected to find him badly in need of a
helping hand and I had been looking forward to assisting him.  I
glanced at his lap and was mildly disappointed to see that
everything was under control.  I wondered if he had taken care of
things before I arrived.  I could see how he might think that was
the considerate thing to do, but I still wished that he had
waited for me.

Since George hadn't mentioned the subject, I decided that I
wouldn't either.  He knew I was there for him if he needed me and
I decided to leave it at that.

We had gone only a few blocks when I saw a woman and a little
girl standing in their yard, looking up and pointing into a big
oak tree next to the curb.  The little girl seemed upset about
something and I asked George to pull up so I could see what the
problem was.  I had to ask a second time, verbally, after my
reflexive mental request went unheeded.  I was really getting
spoiled from riding with Neeka.

George pulled up just past the tree and I got out and walked over
into its shade.  I heard it before I saw it, and even before I
could ask, the girl explained.

"My kitty went up the tree and won't come down!" she whined.

The cat was about twenty feet up, halfway out one of the larger
limbs and scared, judging from the way it was crying.  It looked
to be a little young to be out by itself.  The girl must have
taken it outside to play with it and it had been frightened by
something and run up the tree on instinct.  It must have run
right up the trunk, because the lowest limb was easily eight feet
from the ground.

"We could call the fire department," George suggested.

"No need," I said, walking up to the trunk.

There was once a brief time when this sort of thing would have
been beneath me.  Thank goodness Mom had talked some sense into
me on that score.  Some days you get to save lives and some days
you get to rescue kittys from trees.  It's the nature of the job
and you do what you can, whatever it is.

It was an older tree, and the only leaves were far out at the
ends of the branches.  The cat had its claws sunk into the bark
and seemed quite willing to stay put until someone came for it. 
The ground under the tree was hard dirt with a few spots of grass
hardy enough to grow in the shade.

"Are you thinking of going up there?" George asked.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"I'll do it."

"Thanks, but this is my, ah...no, you just watch.  You can catch
whichever of us happens to fall, OK."

George looked very uneasy about the whole thing.  When he craned
his neck to peer up into the tree, I jumped up and grabbed the
lowest limb and pulled myself up to sit on it with my back
against the trunk.

"Hey!" George called, finding me suddenly up the tree.

I waved down at him and got to my feet.

"Please be careful!" the woman shouted.

"Don't worry," I said.  "I'll be fine."

I didn't have a lot of experience climbing trees, but this didn't
look too hard to me.  I could have made it all the way up to the
limb the kitten was on in one big jump, but that would have blown
my cover and probably scared the cat.  Instead, I thought I
wouldn't have too much trouble passing myself off as a tomboy who
wasn't the slightest bit afraid of heights.  Unless I fell and
broke something.

I walked along the limb until I was right under another and I
jumped up and grabbed onto it underhanded.  I swung my feet a
couple of times for effect and then pulled and flipped up onto
the top of the limb.  My weight wasn't even making the limbs move
all that much.

A couple more like that and I was standing on the limb the kitten
was on.  I walked over with my arms out for balance and sat down
beside it, straddling the narrow branch with my ankles locked
underneath.

"Hello, kitty," I said, soothingly.  "Would you like to get
down?"

"Mew?" the kitten said, curiously.  It put out a paw as if
reaching out to me and I scooped it up in one hand.

"Mew!" it cried, distressed at being plucked from its perch and
not completely sure of my intentions.

A smattering of applause sounded from the group on the ground,
and I used my free hand to acknowledge it.

I held the kitty to me and tried to calm it while I worked on the
problem of how I was going to get us both back to the ground. 
Getting up here had been a cinch, but I had both hands free then.
 Going back down one-handed would be possible, but awkward, even
for me, and seeing me swing from limb to limb like a chimp might
raise some questions as well as some eyebrows.  Dropping to the
ground from here was out of the question for the same reason.

The solution was obvious.  I slipped the kitten into the gap
between my boobs and tugged the zipper up so that it had room to
breathe, but couldn't get out.

"You be good, OK?" I asked, hoping it wouldn't decide to sink its
claws into me at the wrong time and make me miss a limb on the
way down.

"Mew," the kitten agreed and snuggled down in the warmth; no
doubt happy to feel safe and secure for a change.

Now that I had both hands free again, it was a few drops and hops
to get to the ground.  The kitten had been so cooperative that I
even did a flashy lay-out dismount from the lowest limb and stuck
a perfect landing in a tuft of grass.

The little girl came bounding up to me and held up her hands as I
unzipped my jumper and let her take her kitty.  She ran off into
the house without a word, but her mother stayed to speak to me.

"Thank you!" she said, holding her hand out to me.  "That was
very brave of you to do that."

I held my head up as high as I could and looked her in the eye as
I took her hand and said, "You are welcome.  I am glad to have
been of service."

A small voice in the back of my head said, "There, that didn't
hurt too badly, did it?" and I couldn't really tell if it was
Neeka or my conscience talking to me.

I dragged George back to the car and we drove off.  He held his
tongue until we stopped at the next light.

"Your, um, zipper is down," he warned me.

I hadn't pulled it back up after giving back the cat and I was
showing a bit more skin than before.  It was well into 'racy',
but not as low as 'scandalous', and certainly nothing was showing
that you didn't see on the cover of most glamour magazines.

"Thanks," I said, "but I'm fine.  Unless it bothers you?"  I
lowered the zipper to well into the 'move the wrong way and
something will pop out' zone and locked it there.  I knew it was
backsliding on my promise not to tease George, but I felt so good
that I had to show-off somehow.

George stared at my chest.  He licked his lips and swallowed
before answering.

"Nooo.  I'm good.  If you are."

"I'm great."  I was feeling fine.  Even going up a darn tree
after a cat gave me that 'top of the world' feeling   like I had
just done something that really mattered.

Who knows, maybe I did.  That little girl was happier than before
I came along.  Her mother was relieved and I was pretty sure the
kitty was feeling better, too.  Was there really anything so very
much more important that that?  Catching bad-guys and saving
lives were great, but nothing felt quite the same as increasing
the overall amount of happiness in the world.

"You sure are," George said.  "You went up that tree like you
lived there."

"Gymnastics," I suggested.

"Unhunh."  There was a note of doubt in his voice, but he didn't
say any more about it.

"So, now that I've done my good deed for the day, where are we
going?" I asked, having noticed that we weren't heading in the
direction of the mall.  

"I thought we might go over to Crawford's Lake and see what's
going on."

I saw George sneak a look at me out of the corner of his eye to
see how I would react to his suggestion.  Crawford's Lake was
several miles south of town.  It was an old summer-camp that had
gone out of business years ago.  I'd heard that they closed it
down when a gator ate one of the campers, but I didn't know how
much weight to give that story.  It sounded just like an Urban
Legend to me.  Or in this case, a Rural Legend.

I'd never been out there; had only a vague idea of where it was,
and not a clue as to how to get there.  I had heard that some of
the more adventuresome of my classmates used the place as a
hangout when they wanted to go someplace and engage in
unsupervised activities.

I was with a strange boy, in a strange car, going to a strange
place where people did things their parents wouldn't approve of.

"Sounds good to me," I told George.



The place was off the paved road, off a gravel road, and then off
a dirt road.  At one time there may have been signs directing
campers to it, but they had all disappeared into the clumps of
roadside weeds over time.  The last road was mostly ruts with
small piles of gravel in the curves to show that it had once been
maintained.  Tree limbs hung low, turning the road to the camp
into a green tunnel.  The ruts were the only sign that anyone
ever came out here anymore.

There were two pickups and one other car parked at different
angles in the weedy parking area.  They all had faded bumper
stickers on them with strange symbols I didn't recognize.  George
pulled up next to one and we got out.

I could see a few bunkhouses and a couple of cabins scattered
among the trees.  They all seemed to be arranged around one
larger building that I thought was probably the mess hall and
office.  From the blackened state of the outside walls of two of
the bunkhouses, it looked like someone had tried to set fire to
them.  Unsuccessfully, because they were still standing.

The big building had all its windows broken out and the doors
that I could see dangled from hinges that had been pulled out of
their frames.  Dumped into piles next to each door were whatever
furnishings could have been dragged or torn out.  I saw a toilet
that someone had smashed into several pieces and a piece of a
picture frame.  The rest was just unrecognizable junk.

The whole place looked like it had been assaulted by a gang of
vandals with no ambition.  I thought I could have done a better
job of destruction without getting my nails dirty.

George led me down a path that went past the main building and
toward the lake.  He seemed to be looking for something.

"Expecting to meet someone?" I asked.

"Well, some of the guys from school hang out here sometimes.  I
think they may be down on the pier.  There are some benches and
stuff down there that aren't too busted up."

I occurred to me that George was a little too eager to introduce
me to his friends.  I thought it was likely that he just wanted
to show his buddies that he had a date with a girl.  In that
case, I was a kind of trophy-date.  I was OK with that.  If
George wanted to show me off, I would strut a little for him.  I
just wished I had done something about my windblown hair before
we got out of the car.  I didn't think I would be too impressive
looking like a dandelion about to go to seed.

I had my fannypack pulled around and was feeling past my suit and
shoes for a comb when George stopped short in front of me, making
me almost run into him.

We had come out of the woods onto a sandy strip next to the pier.
 Ahead of us was a group of six guys lounging around on pieces of
rusty lawn furniture and moldy benches that must have been
dragged out from the main building.  They all looked a few years
older than us; and 'scruffy' seemed the kindest way to describe
their clothes and their poor grooming.  I even thought I caught a
whiff of pretty ripe BO from one or two of them.

"Uh oh," George said.

"Not your friends, hunh?" I asked, rhetorically.

"Let's go," George said, starting to back up.

"You just got here," a deep voice behind me said.  "Why don't you
stay awhile?"

I turned and found myself staring at a tall, broad-chested guy
wearing a tight camo t-shirt with the same strange symbol in the
center of it as I had seen on the cars.  He was a bit taller than
Steve, but not as muscular.  He wore a short, military-style
haircut with the sides of his head shaved, except for a couple of
patches of hair on each side in the shape of lightning bolts.  He
might have passed for ruggedly handsome, but his face looked a
little too beat-up to be attractive, like he had been in a few
too many fist-fights. While I took all this in, he stepped right
up to within an inch of touching me and stared down lecherously
into my open jumper.

"Really, we didn't mean to bother you," George said.  "We'll be
going now."

"Sure, sure," the big guy said.  "You go on.  Just leave your
pretty little girlfriend here so she can join the party."

This was looking like it might be a lot more fun than I had
expected.  If I had sent out invitations and a script, I couldn't
have gotten a more perfect situation.  I just had some qualms
about George being with me.  That might be a problem if he
decided to get macho about the situation.

"NO!" George said, forcefully, if not wisely.  I had been
thinking about getting him to wait in the car, but he seemed to
prefer staying.  I would just have to factor him in and try not
to let him get hurt.

"Please, don't hurt me," I pleaded as I backed away from the big
guy and toward the rest of the men.  I tried to keep George to my
right and edge him toward the water where no one could get behind
him.  It was too soon to be giving stage directions though; I'd
just have to rely on the rest of the ensemble not to blow their
lines.

"Damn, Skeeter, I thought we was just gonna hang out and smoke
some weed," one of the hairier of the group said as he scratched
his beard where it merged with his chest hair.  "And here we got
some entertainment, too!"

After a quick glance behind me, I backed right past Hairy and
into one of the large posts that anchored the dry end of the
pier.  It was just taller than I was and fortunately didn't have
splinters sticking out of it, so I braced my back against it and
put my hands on either side of it as though the post had somehow
got me cornered.  That put me more or less in front of the crowd
of guys and several feet away from George.  

Picking up on the word 'entertainment', I started taking quick,
deep breaths, as if I were so scared I was going to
hyperventilate.  The effect was to make my boobs move in what I
hoped was an inviting manner under my mostly-open jumper.  My
efforts were rewarded almost immediately.

"Damn!  She's sure got a pair!"

"No shit!"

"Nice titties!"

"I think I'm in love."

I could have listened to this all day.  I tried to look sexy and
scared at the same time and I think I brought it off pretty
well.

"Please..." I begged, as I glanced all around as if looking for a
way to escape.  I wanted to get things off on the right foot, but
at the moment I just couldn't think of a better line.  I
deliberately didn't look at George.  With the best of luck they
would focus on me and forget about him.

It almost worked out that way.  The guy who had come up behind us
followed me and went right past where George was standing,
leaving the way clear for him to get away.  Unfortunately, my
acting seemed to appeal to George as much as the rest of the guys
and he stayed where he was, watching me intently.

Skeeter came right up to me and spoke directly to my heaving
chest.

"You can scream if you want to," he said.  "Out here, ain't
nobody to hear you for miles."

I opened my mouth as if to do just that, and then closed it again
with a short whimper as I realized the truth of his claim.  We
were deep in the woods; miles from anyone who might hear a cry
for help.  They were completely at my mercy.  I wondered how much
fun I could have with them before someone got hurt.

There was a general shift in the group as they all moved closer
to get the best view of what would happen next.  I tried to
shrink back against the post, but only managed to pull my
shoulders back on it, pushing my boobs higher and spreading my
jumper open even further.

Skeeter unhooked the belt of my fanny-pack and let it drop to the
sand behind me.  Then he took hold of my zipper and started to
pull it down.  His hands looked rough and his knuckles were
scarred from what I assumed was the teeth he had knocked out with
them.  I kept my hands against the post and offered no
resistance.

"Please don't do that," I whined, as he slowly ran it down all
the way until I was exposed from my chin to my crotch.  The only
thing holding the jumper over my breasts was the tension on the
fabric.

I gasped as Skeeter took hold of my jumper, yanked it open to
free my boobs and then jerked it off my shoulders and roughly
peeled it down to my ankles.  I meekly stepped out of it and even
slipped my feet out of my canvas shoes as he tossed my jumper
aside.  I stood there naked and quivering, protectively covering
my bare pussy with both hands; something that made my arms
squeeze my boobs together and made them look even larger.

"Holy shit!"

"My God!  That's a rack and a half!"

"Sweet Jesus!"

"Whoa! She got her some big ones!"

"I got to have some of that!"

I did my best not to smile at all the compliments.  I don't know
how well I succeeded, but apparently no one was looking at my
face.  Then I had a flash of inspiration.  I thought of a way to
add some plot to the scene, to make it a little deeper and more
meaningful for everyone.

"Please don't rape me," I pleaded, trying to look sultry and
pitiful at the same time.  "I'm a virgin.  I've never been with a
man.  And I'm not on the pill or anything!  It's my fertile time
of the month and if you rape me you're bound to get me
pregnant!"

I couldn't tell about my audience, but my little speech had an
immediate effect on me.  When I thought about being made pregnant
by force, a wave of heat washed over me and I felt the wetness
start to build inside.  I quivered and furtively slid a finger
into my slit to celebrate the discovery of another very powerful
fantasy.  That helped things along nicely and the heat grew so
strong that I felt my toes curl in the sand.

Skeeter reached for my boobs and George reacted by lunging at
him, trying to knock him away from me.  He may as well have tried
to tackle a tree.  Skeeter didn't even have to hit him; he just
stuck out a hand and shoved him hard.  George stumbled back
several feet before landing on his butt in the sand, looking
humiliated but unhurt.  

I was relieved.  If I thought that George was going to be hurt,
the game would have been over right then and there, but Skeeter
obviously didn't see him as a serious threat since Skeeter was
easily twice his size.

Skeeter sneered dismissively at George and then grabbed both my
breasts and began to roughly pull and knead them with his
calloused hands.  He did such a good job that I didn't bother
letting go of my pussy to try to fend off his groping.  I just
rolled my shoulders around, chewed my lower lip and tried to look
like I was suffering.

"Shit, Skeeter!" One of the other men said, "Squeeze those
melons!  I want to see them pop!"

Skeeter grinned, burying his hands in my breasts.  He squeezed
them really hard and made my nipples blow up so big that they
looked and felt like they were about to burst.  The sudden pain
made me yelp and by reflex I brought my hands up to stop him, but
before I could do anything he tightened his grip on them even
more and gave me a warning shake.  I got the point and lowered my
hands to my sides so he could continue to abuse my breasts
without any hindrance from me.

He examined my big boobs and my bulging nipples as though he were
judging livestock at the fair and said, "From the size of these
tits, you'll make a fine momma.  Hell, looks like you'll be able
to feed a whole litter!  That's good, 'cause after we get done
with you, you're gonna be about as pregnant as you can be!  I bet
your little belly swells up bigger than a watermelon."

 "Damn right, Skeeter!" Hairy said.  "When those big jugs fill up
with milk, she'll be too top-heavy to walk.  She'll have to carry
'em around in a wheelbarrow!"

"Hell! I'd like to see that." Another man added.  "I think it's
sexy as hell when girls get all swelled-up, waddling around
holding their big bellies with their fat tits flopping and
leaking all over!  It does my pecker real proud."

My suggestion that they impregnate me looked to be going over
well.  It seemed that I wasn't the only one who was turned on by
the idea.  Everyone but George had at least one hand on or in
their pants.  I tried to appear terrified as several flies were
undone, darting my eyes from one crotch to another in case
someone had something interesting to show me.

Skeeter shoved me to my knees before pulling his own zipper down.
 He pulled his cock out, waved it under my nose, wrapped his fist
around it and started stroking.  It wasn't real long, but it had
a big fat head on it the size and shape of a ripe peach and a
straight shaft as thick as a can of shaving gel.  I cringed back
against the post at the sight of it, where I sat open-mouthed and
petrified at the prospect of it going inside me.

 "Noooo!" I cried, grabbing my nipples and squeezing them in my
fists as if imagining them bursting with milk.  I felt my areolas
swell hugely in my hands and my nipples throb and grow fat.  I
squeezed my boobs just behind my nipples to force even more blood
into them and make them even bigger.  This made them swell so
much that my rings flipped completely over and lay on top of my
breasts, as if freeing my bulging nipples for use.

I stared at Skeeter's stiffening cock as though mesmerized by the
sight of it.  I licked my lips, leaving my mouth open to hint at
the sexual hunger welling up inside me.  I slid my hands down
below my breasts, revealing how engorged my nipples had become at
the suggestion that they would be suckled; managing just in time
to shut down the production of milk that started simultaneously
with the thought.  I stroked my flat tummy and sucked it in tight
as I imagined it immensely swollen with squirming and kicking
babies.  I cupped my mound again and then forced my hands down to
the insides of my thighs as I spread my knees apart in the
coarse, brown sand.  I rocked my hips forward so everyone could
see my quivering labia and how rosy and damp my pussy was
getting.

"But look how tiny my pussy is!  See?  It's way too small for
your big cock.  Please don't put that big thing in my little
pussy!  You'll ruin me!  I'm...I'm saving myself for my wedding
night.  Not even my brother there has had me yet!"  I moved my
hands back up to either side of my pussy and held it open as if
trying to show them my maidenhead.  When I did, I felt a
contraction that meant my wet hole was opening and closing like a
tiny mouth, begging to be fed.

OK, so I was taking a lot of creative license with my improvised
performance.  Maybe I was even getting a little carried away. 
But the only one who knew that was George.  The look on his face
was priceless.  I had managed to tip him off that things were not
what they appeared to be and that I was calling the tune at this
dance.  He slumped back into the sand on his elbows with his jaw
hanging loose, no longer sure what it was he was supposed to be
doing.

Skeeter slapped his fat cockhead against my face, drawing a slick
streak across my cheek and said, "Take a good look at the dick
that's gonna bust your cherry, girl.  I'm gonna fuck you until
you cream all over it.  I'm gonna make you cum so hard, you'll be
begging me to knock you up.  Then I'm gonna fill you so full of
spunk that it'll be coming out your ears.  After that, everyone
gets to pump your sweet puss full of baby-juice.  And don't worry
about your precious little pussy, girl; by the time we've all had
a few turns plowing that tight snatch of yours, you'll be as
slack as a two-dollar whore!"  

He laughed and slapped me again with his big cock, harder the
second time since he enjoyed seeing me flinch from the meaty
weight of it.  It seemed to be firming up nicely.  The head was
already glossy red and looked even more like a ripe fruit, ready
to have the juice sucked from it.  The shaft was impressive, too.
 It was thickly veined, but instead of being smooth under the
veins, it was lumpy.  It looked like his cock was all braided
muscle.  My imagination shot me a quick image of him with the
head of it stuck through the hole in a barbell weight, flexing
and grunting as he raised the iron weight by flexing the muscles
in his cock.  I could hardly wait to find out what those bumps
would feel like with it inside me.  It was very difficult for me
to stick to my script outline.

"Please don't rape me!  Please don't take my cherry!  Please! 
I'll do anything.  Put it in my mouth," I begged, planting a
series of kisses on the underside of his cock where I knew it was
the most sensitive.  "Let me suck you off, instead.  I know how.
I promise I'll do it real good!"  I forced my lips over the plump
head and started to suck before he could stop me. 

"Suck it then, girl!" he said, putting his fists on his hips and
widening his stance to put more of his cock within my reach.  "If
you suck me really good, then maybe I won't fuck you.  But you
better do your best!  I mean you swallow the whole thing and lick
my balls, too."

I worked on Skeeter's cock like a fiend, kissing and licking it
all over, tonguing his balls and then sucking them into my mouth,
one at a time.  I took a deep breath, shoved my mouth over his
fat cockhead and forced my lips all the way down to the base,
until my nose was buried in his curly hair and his thick cock was
down my throat.

I cupped my pussy with one hand like I wanted to protect it, but
I kept dipping a finger inside while I slowly rubbed my clit with
my palm.  With the other hand I stroked my body, my breasts and
rolled my stiff nipples between my fingers.  I tried my best to
be the horny, virgin country-girl, who desperately needed to be
fucked and who might just make herself so hot that she would
break down and beg for it.  I thought I was succeeding very well,
indeed.  I was already past the point where I would be able to
walk out of there without somebody fucking me.

My audience couldn't applaud because they all had their hands
full.  Even George's khaki shorts were tented out by a nice hard
one that he hadn't taken out yet.  Most of the rest were stroking
and pumping away, completely caught up in my performance.

Skeeter was clearly the most appreciative.  His cock was so hard
I thought it would explode.  He was leaking precum steadily.  I
could taste it.  I sucked it hard and licked it like I couldn't
get enough of the flavor.

When I thought he was as hard as he could get, I pulled my mouth
off of Skeeter's cock and kissed it up and down.

"Oh!" I moaned, in between licks.  "Your cock feels so good in my
mouth.  It's so big and hot and hard."

I licked it all over to get it nice and slick, then I dove right
back onto Skeeter's cock like I wanted to suck it dry.  This
time, when I swallowed the hard knob down my throat, Skeeter
grabbed my head and fucked my face, grinding my nose into his
pubic hair and slapping his balls under my chin.  My mouth was
forced open as wide as it would go and still he pulled my face
tighter against his groin.  His fat cockhead bulged out my neck.
It completely blocked my throat and shut off my windpipe.  I
gagged and winced, but I didn't resist.

When he pulled out to let me have some air I gulped as much as I
could.  Then I coughed and wheezed, "Oh, what am I doing?  What's
happening to me?  I'm so hot!  I can't be doing this!  But I'm so
hot I can't hardly stand it!  Am I making you feel good?  Am I
doing it the way you like it?"

Without waiting for an answer, I latched onto Skeeter's big cock
again, putting just the head in my mouth and bobbing up and down
quickly while swirling my tongue all over it, as though I were
desperate to taste his cum.

I put both hands on my boobs, pulling on both nipples, roughly
twisting them around my fingers; stretching them out and then
rubbing them raw so they would be super-sensitive.  When I let
go, they felt like they were as big as my thumbs and so burning
hot I couldn't touch them any more without making myself cum
right then.  

I plunged a finger into my pussy, arched my back and whimpered my
need as loudly as I could.  With my other hand, I reached around
behind me cupping my ass and reaching between my legs to hook
another finger into my hole, as if trying to get it large enough
to handle my first cock.

"Hell, Skeeter!  She's gettin' into it," Hairy observed, watching
me cram my fingers into my pussy.  "Lookit her diddling herself!
See how she's warming her slit up for you?  She's trying to get
it limbered-up, so it won't split when you put the meat in her. 
Go to it, girl!  Give that pretty snatch a real work-out.  Get it
nice and hot for your first fuck."

The guy who wanted to see me waddling-pregnant said, "Shit! 
Looks like she's turning into a real wildcat just from the taste
of it.  Once she gets a dick in her puss, she's gonna be hooked
on it!"

"You getting your pussy ready for me, girl?" Skeeter asked.  "You
change your mind about saving that cherry?  Hah!  When I'm done
fucking you, that won't be the only thing to change.  This dick's
gonna turn you into a prime slut.  When I'm done you'll be
addicted to dick.  You'll be thinking about gettin some pipe laid
in you all the time.  You won't be able to live without it. 
You'll be a cock-junkie, looking for a fix.  You'll need it so
bad; you'll drop your drawers and spread that pussy for any guy
that looks at you hard."

"Hell, yes!" Hairy said.  "She'll be so hot she'll put out for
anything with a dick!  Her folks will have to start locking her
up at night or she'll be out parading her little tail down to the
work farm every chance she gets.  The bosses let girls like her
into the barracks every so often to keep the cons from turning
queer, 'cause after they've been locked up a while, them boys
ain't too particular about where they stick their peckers, so
long as they get their rocks off.  With those big tits, she'll
probably be real popular over there.  They'll appreciate some
fresh quim, even if the snap's already been fucked out of it. 
That won't bother them much.  Those boys are used to
sloppy-seconds.  Hell, she'll probably take them on two to a hole
and be crying for more!"

"Is that what you want, girl?" Skeeter demanded.  "C'mon, tell me
you want my dick.  Tell me to fuck-up that sweet little pussy of
yours.  I know you're hot for it.  Tell me to do it to you.  Tell
me to make you a cock-slut!"

Their graphic predictions of the consequences of being gang-raped
both scared me and vigorously fanned the flames of lust that were
already burning hotly between my legs.  They scared me because I
realized that the part about me becoming addicted to cock was
mostly true already.  After being freed from years of enforced
virginity, I had come to need sex very badly and to want it as
often as I could get it.  That lent credence to the nastier bits
that made me seriously hot just hearing about them.  Hairy's
story really got to me because I suspected that it was first-hand
information, not something he concocted on the spot for my
benefit.  Having already met a couple of work farm graduates, I
knew just what kind of inmate Hairy was talking about as not
being 'too particular' about what they fucked and I had a
crystal-clear idea of how I could expect to be treated if I let
them get their hands on me.  

This jolt of reality being tossed into the middle of my fantasy
caught me by surprise.  Suddenly, I wasn't sure if I was acting
or not.  I was so turned-on by their promises of degradation that
I really felt so hot I might burst into flame any second.  The
intense sensation in my pussy spawned another feeling, too.  It
was an itchy ache that seemed to reach right past my conscious
mind and into something primal and basic.  I wanted to be fucked
because I had made myself incredibly horny and I planned to enjoy
the heck out of it.  But, something else was happening too.  Now,
my body was demanding that I follow the story through to the end,
that I allow myself to be raped and despoiled in the most brutal,
humiliating way possible.  I had convinced it that it needed this
and it believed me, completely.

I must have been convincing to someone else, too.  I heard a loud
groan, followed by the sight of a stream of white flying past my
left shoulder to spatter on the wooden pier.  Someone hadn't been
able to wait for his turn in line.  I thought I had better get
this show on the road before any more of that was wasted.

"Please!  I can't stand it!" I cried, pulling my mouth off of
Skeeter's cock with a slurping sound.  "I've never felt this way
before!  I'm burning up!  My pussy is on fire!"  I put my mouth
back on Skeeter's cock and sucked and licked it like it was a
popsicle about to melt.  

I pried my pussy open to show everyone where the fire was.  I
fucked my long clit between my fingers and threw my head back,
arching my back violently as I jerked my hips up and down, making
myself crazier with lust every second.

"Ohhhhhhh!  I can't take any more!  Nooooo!  I can't!  I mustn't!
 Oh! I'm so hot!  I want...I want...I want a cock!  I want a hard
cock in my pussy!"

Skeeter pushed my head back so my mouth hung open and started
fisting his cock hard, showering me with drops of the slimy stuff
oozing steadily from his little hole.

"What about your precious cherry?" he asked, teasing me.

"I don't care!  Rape me!  Fuck me!  Take my cherry!  Ruin my
pussy!  Stretch it!  Spoil it!  Wreck it!  I've just got to have
a cock in there real bad!  I can't take it anymore!  I'll do
anything you want!  I'll fuck you all!  I'll be a dirty
cock-slut!  Just put it in me, please!  Please fuck me with your
big cock." I whined as pitifully as I could between gasps.

I tried to catch the drops on my tongue.  I kissed his cock
whenever it came close enough to my mouth.  Skeeter saw my
desperation mounting and pulled his hard cock away whenever I
tried to get it back in my mouth. 

"Don't worry, girl," he snarled. "I'm gonna fuck you good and
hard.  I'm gonna break you in rough so you'll be a good little
slut and spread your horny slit wide open for any prick that can
give it a hot load.  You can look forward to spending the rest of
your days with your puss itching and dripping and never being
happy unless you have a dick filling it full of jizz.  There's
just one more little thing you have to do.  Beg me, slut.  Beg me
to knock you up!"

I took a deep, ragged breath and looked up at Skeeter while I
pleaded, "Please make me pregnant." 

"I don't believe you," Skeeter growled.  He was really getting
off on humiliating me in front of his buddies.  I guess it's not
too often that you have a girl beg you to rape her.

"Please!  Knock me up!  Fill up my pussy with cum!  Give me a
bellyful of babies.  Make me swell up like a sow.  Make my big
titties fill up with milk 'til they pop.  Just put that cock in
me!  Oh, please!  I need it bad!"

Skeeter hauled me to my feet and slammed my back into the post as
he shoved his hips between my thighs.  I reached down, grabbed
his cock, and eagerly pushed the big head of it against my
impatient hole, slipping the loop of one of my plastic handcuffs
over it as I did.

Skeeter roughly grabbed my breasts and pinched my nipples.  He
jerked his hips to plug his cockhead into me just far enough to
give me an idea of what was to come.

My eyes went wide and my mouth dropped open as I felt his cock
stretch my hole.  It felt much bigger than it looked.

"Here it comes, slut!" He snarled.  "Say goodbye to your
cherry!"

Then he slammed his cock into me all the way to the root with one
powerful shove, forcing my legs apart and pinning me to the post
like a butterfly in a bug collection.

I threw my head back and screamed as loud as I could when I felt
that fat cock drive into me.  As Skeeter ground his hips against
me, I screamed longer than I thought possible on one breath.  At
the peak of my scream, I yanked the free end of the plastic
restraint, cinching it tightly around the base of his cock,
making it impossible for him to cum in me. I pulled so hard that
the loose end of the strap snapped off and fell onto the sand.  I
thought he would catch on instantly, but he was too wrapped up in
savoring the moment of my ruination to take notice of what I had
done to him.  

My piercing scream slowly trailed off into a wail and then a low
moan as I began my transformation from horny virgin to wanton
slut.  I sobbed once as I drew my next breath, mourning the
destruction of my maidenhead.

When Skeeter saw my eyes focus on him again, he smiled cruelly as
he pulled back for his second stroke into my now-conquered body.
He began to drive his cock into me hard again and again, each
time riding me up the post and grinding his pelvis on my clit
while trying to force his way even deeper into my body.

I suppose I should have tried to stop him, but I couldn't make
myself do it, even if I wanted to.  I was even more a victim of
my performance than he was and I was committed to let it play
out, whatever happened.

"OOOOooooooo!" I moaned, huskily.  "That feels so good!  I've
never felt anything like this before.  Shove your big thing all
the way in me!  That's it!  All the way.  Aaaaiiiii!  Damn, you
busted me open all the way.  Now come on!  Fuck me!  Fuck me
good!  Give it to me!  Wreck my slut pussy!"

Skeeter's cock felt like a rod of steel.  Despite being clamped
off, it felt like it was still growing larger with every stroke.
I could feel that big cockhead of his ramming deep into my pussy
and it was rubbing right up against that itchy, achy spot where I
needed it most.  

I reached up and grabbed the top of the post behind my head so
Skeeter wouldn't be supporting me.  I arched my back and thrust
my boobs out so he could keep on squeezing them.  I wrapped my
legs around his waist and locked my ankles, pulling him to me so
he couldn't get away.  

Skeeter did a real good job of raping me.  He bucked up into me
over and over as deep as his cock would reach, sending me higher
and higher until I knew would only be a few more seconds before I
peaked.

"Harder!" I demanded, letting the slut completely out of her
cage.  "Dammit, fuck me harder!  Give me all of that hard cock. 
I want all of it!  Yes!  Like that.  I want to feel you cum in
me.  I want your hot stuff all up inside me.  I want you to give
me every drop you've got in those big balls."

Skeeter rose to the challenge.  He dug in his feet in the sand
and started violently fucking my pussy with full, deep, pounding
strokes.  In almost no time after that, I was ready to pop.

"Yes!" I screamed as loudly as I could.  "That's it!  I'm
cumming!  God, I'm wide open.  I'm ready.  I'm ripe.  Now!  I
want it!  Give it to me!  Make me pregnant!  Knock me up!  Do it!
 Breed me!" 

I was cumming really, really hard.  It was amazing how hot I
could make myself when I really put my mind to it.  I was so
flaming hot I was incandescent.  I babbled continuously, begging
him to cum in me every nasty way I could imagine.  My body was
taut and writhing as he fucked me relentlessly.  Every inch of my
pussy was squirming uncontrollably over Skeeter's massive bloated
cock, making sweet love to the brutal invader as it viciously
ravished me.  I uncrossed my ankles from behind Skeeter's
violently jerking butt and put the soles of my feet against the
pole, spreading my knees as far apart as I could, while shoving
my pussy at him in time with his thrusts.

Skeeter suddenly slammed his cock into me as hard and deep as he
could and froze with it buried there.   He watched my face as he
prepared to cum so he could see my reaction at the exact moment
that I knew I had been bred.  He looked triumphant as he felt the
pressure build inside him.  His muscles tensed and his hands
clenched on my butt, trying to rip me apart so he could drive his
cock even deeper into my body and plant his potent seed as far up
into me as possible.  He wanted to leave no doubt in my mind that
I had been impregnated.

He grimaced.  His lips skinned back over his teeth.  His face
hardened and turned deep red as he approached his climax.  He
gave one last jerk with his hips and we stared straight into each
other's eyes in the instant that his little sacks of cum went
into spasm, trying to shoot their full-to-bursting load into my
womb, only to find that there was nowhere for it to go.

Skeeter's eyes bulged.  His face turned dark purple and he
screamed so loudly and so high that his voice failed halfway
through it.  Something inside him was exploding and there was
nothing he could do to stop it.  His second scream was soundless,
and his third was a mere gasp.  He dropped to the ground, grabbed
his cock, found the tourniquet around its base and picked at it
helplessly while waves of agony pounded him senseless.

When he dropped, I held myself up on the pole, hanging from my
hands.  I swiveled my hips invitingly, proudly showing off my
'newly opened for business' hole.

"Please," I whined, "I need some more cock.  Won't someone please
fuck my pussy?"

It was anticlimactic.  I had lost my audience and blown any
chance for a real gang-rape.  Everyone was staring at Skeeter as
he rolled on the sand, clutching his groin and crying in pain. 
His cock was a color that those things should never be.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Hairy asked.

"Jeez!"

"Look at his dick, man!  It's blue!"

"Oh Christ!  That's awful!"

"OK, guys," I said, disappointedly letting my voice go from hot
to stone cold.  "Which of you wants to rape me next?  Come on,
get 'em up and line 'em up.  I'm waiting."  

What happened next would be entirely up to them.

The six of them stared at me with expressions of lust dissolving
into horror and disgust and then to rage.  One stepped forward
with his fist raised, not even bothering to put his stiff cock
away first.  I waited until he was almost to me and I dropped to
the ground just as he went for my head.  His fist made a loud
thud as it hit the post and when I punched him in the stomach he
doubled over and joined his buddy on the dirty sand.

That started a general attack.  These were amateurs, but they
weren't total strangers to brawls.  They didn't stumble over each
other and they didn't waste time making threats or yelling
insults.  They just came right at me with blood in their eyes.

I sidestepped to put the two on the ground in front of me and the
lake behind me.  This slowed the rush down enough for me to have
the time to be careful and not kill anyone accidentally.

Hairy got to me next.  I blocked his overhand right with my left
hand as I stepped into him, pushing rather than throwing an elbow
up into his solar plexus.  He went down making a retching noise
and I shoved him into the guy behind him before he could puke on
me.

The next one who got to me was waving a nasty-looking black
hunting knife with a very shiny edge on it.  I let him wave the
thing past my throat and then I rapped my knuckles on the back of
his hand to make him drop it.  Once the knife was out of play, I
hit him with a front kick right out of my Kung Fu lesson.  Since
he wasn't Neeka, he didn't block or dodge; he just fell backwards
and landed hard.  I tried to be gentle, but I think I may have
cracked his ribs.  It sure sounded that way.

I dropped back into a neutral stance, concentrating on staying
centered and alert.  This was almost as much fun as inviting them
to rape me.  Even though there were several of them, I wasn't a
bit afraid and so I was able to stay perfectly calm.  My combat
awareness was at a peak, thanks to all the practicing that Neeka
and I had been doing.  She was right.  After her, this was a
piece of cake.  When we sparred, she could react instantly and I
had to work to keep the pace up to reduce her advantage or I'd
get clobbered.  In comparison, these guys seemed like they were
all moving in slow motion.  I could just about pick my spots and
hit them at will.

The next two tried to hit me high and low together.  I jumped
over the low one and almost kicked the high one in the forehead
before I realized that that would probably break his neck.  I
settled for putting my knee into his nose, which broke with a
satisfying crunch.

I landed on the back of the guy who went low and dug my heels
into his kidneys, letting my weight do the work.  I wasn't as
rough as I had been with the man who tried to kidnap the sheriff,
and I don't think I ruptured anything, but he went down anyway
and stayed there.

I jumped off the pile and went back to a defensive posture,
knowing there was another one somewhere and expecting him to jump
me.  When no one did, I whirled to check on George and saw him
standing astride gomer number seven with his fists clenched,
grinning victoriously.

George's shirt-tail was out and there was a mark on his cheek
that might be a bruise tomorrow, but he looked otherwise unhurt.
The guy on the ground was holding his face with one hand and his
balls with the other.  I think the first thing small people
notice in a street-fight with a larger male opponent is that they
have a ready target that can bring almost any guy down to their
size quickly.  From there, it's a short trip to the ground.

"Good job, George!" I called.  He ran over to me.

"I got one!" he said.  He seemed rather happy about it and I
wondered if this wasn't one of the few fights he had been in
where he was the one still on his feet at the end.

"Let's go," I said.  "Before they decide they want some more."  

I half hoped they did, but as I waded through the moaning and
puking bodies to get to my things, everyone capable of moving
cringed away from me.  They seemed to be perfectly satisfied with
the serving of whoop-ass they already had.  I looked closely at
the ones I thought I might have hit a little hard, but there
didn't seem to be anyone who was in dire straits.  They were
hurting plenty, but no one was about to drop dead or anything.

I grabbed my jumper and closed my fanny pack before we ran back
up the trail to the car.  When we got there, George wanted to let
the air out of their tires, so they couldn't follow us.

"Let's not," I said, putting a hand on his arm.  "A few of them
are going to need medical attention and I don't want them stuck
out here and not able to haul themselves to the hospital."

"But..."

"Yeah, I know.  I don't doubt for a second that they would all
have raped me, but I did tease them a bit.  They started the
fight, remember.  I don't have a problem with beating the crap
out of them, but let's leave it at that."  

I didn't add that I still had hopes that an encounter with me
could be a learning experience for the brighter thugs and crooks
out there.

We got into George's mother's car and drove a little too quickly
back out the way we came in.  I was about to say something, but
George slowed down after almost swerving into a tree. 

I was still naked but for the canvas flats I had slipped back on
for the walk to the car.  I had my jumper and pack in one hand,
dangling them over the back of the seat.  I was about to do
something I hoped I wouldn't regret.

"Are you going to get dressed?" He asked, practically snarling. 
The fight was over, but he was still very worked-up.  I
understood perfectly how he felt.  I was still very worked up,
too.  And not just from the brawl.  I was still as hot as a
firecracker.  My itchy ache still hadn't been quenched and I had
a good idea that what I had kept Skeeter from providing was what
was needed to do the job.

 "No," I said, turning to give him a real good look at my boobs
with their fat nipples and the rings standing up like gauges
showing my high level of sexual heat.  "Does it bother you?"

"Hell yes!" he said in a gruff voice.

"Then do something about it."

George pulled into the next gap in the trees and stomped on the
parking brake, throwing the car into a short skid on the thick
mat of pine straw.  Even before the car stopped, he was on top of
me, groping and kissing like mad.  I barely had time to open the
door and drag us out onto the ground before he had his pants down
and his cock in his hand.

The next thing I knew, his cock was in me and he was fucking me
like a rabbit on speed.  I dug my heels into the soft straw and
did my best to keep up.

Poor George must have been depriving himself for hours.  From the
way he started, I thought he would cum quickly, but that didn't
happen.  He didn't slow down much either over the next half hour,
either.  He just kept going and going and well, you get the idea.
 It was fantastic!

I was already cumming hard by the time the car and trucks rolled
to a stop behind ours.  Through the thick fog in my head, I heard
a voice say, "There they are!" and I thought we were going to be
interrupted, but another voice said, "Are you fucking nuts!  Get
the hell out of here before she sees us!" and they roared on down
the road in a cloud of dust and a hail of pine needles.

George had me climaxing like clockwork long before he finally
couldn't hold it anymore.  At last, he put both arms around me
and squeezed as hard as he could right before I felt him explode
into me, drenching my pussy with his cum.

After that, he went as limp as a rag doll.  I rolled us onto our
sides and stroked his hair and kissed him and cooed to him.  A
few minutes later something made him jerk.

"Oh my God!" He said.  "Are you really...?  I mean, could I have
gotten you...?"

"Pregnant?"

He nodded, his eyes wide.  I toyed with the idea of messing with
him, but he'd already had enough of that for one day, so I
confessed.

"No, George.  That was just a story.  I'm very much on the pill.
A squad of Marines couldn't get me pregnant in a month of
trying."

"Whew!  That's a relief."

He pulled his cock out of me and I licked it clean for him before
he pulled his shorts back up.  After he helped me to my feet, he
put his arms around me and kissed me hard.

I melted in his arms.  We fit together so perfectly, except that
my boobs had to go in two directions to let him hold me really
close.

He kissed me like we had all the time in the world.  He kissed me
like he didn't care at all where my mouth had been earlier and I
respected him for that.  

While he was kissing me, I felt his cock move between us.

"George?" I asked softly, when he let me breathe.

"Un hunh?"

"Do you have another boner, George?"

"Un hunh."

"I suppose you'd like me to help you with this one, too?"

"Un hunh."

I lay down and George climbed back into the saddle.  This time he
slowed down to about half his previous speed.  He seemed to be
savoring it more this time.  He still lasted a full half-hour and
by the time he came, I was almost delirious.

"Damn, George!" I said, as we lay there, locked together by two
loads of white goo.  "I lost track of how many times you made me
cum.  I'm going to be feeling goofy all night and most of
tomorrow.  Are you like this with all your girlfriends?"

"I don't know," he said.  "You're my first."

It didn't scan the first time.  I had to run it back and try
again before I realized that George had just given me his
virginity.  Well, the first time, anyway, not the second.

"George!  I'm sorry.  This should have been special!  And here we
are on the ground in the woods with your pants around your
ankles."

"This is plenty special," he laughed.  "I can't think of a better
place or a better person to be with."

That was so sweet that I wanted to cry.  I would have, but I was
too high from the sex to contemplate any other emotions at the
moment.  I just kissed him as tenderly and as sweetly as I could.
 I kissed his lips, his nose, his eyes, his ears.

While I was doing that, he played with my boobs, stroking them
and lightly rubbing his fingers around and around my nipples
while flipping my rings up and down, something that always makes
me crazy.

Somewhere in the middle of the kissing and the fondling, I felt
his cock start to swell up inside me.

"Again?" I asked, amazed at his stamina.  I wondered if all boys
were like this their first time, or if this was unique to George.
 It would have been asking way too much for him to be able to do
this all the time, but I held onto a small amount of hope.

For an answer, he rolled back on top and started moving again. 
Still slower this time, but after a few minutes he was just as
hard, and he even lasted a little longer   or so it seemed to
me.

This time I either passed out or fell asleep.  I only know I woke
up with George still inside me, still trying to put enough cum
into me to make it ooze out of my ears, and I felt like I was
still at an orgasmic peak.

"You OK?" he asked.  "Your eyes kind of rolled back for a bit,
but your, ah, you were still doing a number on my dick, so I
figured you must be all right."

"I'm fine.  I'm wonderful.  I'm freaking fantastic!  But how are
you?"

"I'm tired.  I think I might need to rest up a bit before I, ah,
you know."

"No, I don't know.  How many times was that for you?"

"Gee, I'm not sure...three, maybe four."

"Poor boy!  You must be all tuckered out!"

"And hungry!  It's the middle of the afternoon.  We missed
lunch."

Usually I was the one with the appetite.  George had one-upped me
on that one too.

"Well, sir.  Let's go get you something to eat.  I'm feeling a
little hungry myself; even if I do have a full little tummy."

We untangled ourselves, brushed each other off and went back to
the car.  This time, I got dressed, although I was a little
unsteady and I had to lean on the car while I stepped into my
jumper.  George was sweet and helped me get it on and zip it up.
I let him choose where to leave the zipper.  He stopped just
above the 'might pop out' level and smiled at me.  I remembered
my theory of boys' opinion of a girl's clothes.

"I'll stay naked, if you want," I told him sultrily, with my hand
holding his to the zipper.  "You can drive me all the way back
like that and take me anywhere you want without a stitch on. 
Strip me.  Show me off.  You fucked me so good, I feel like
strutting."

That brought a wide smile to his face.  He thought I must be
kidding him.  Silly boy.

"You would, wouldn't you?" he said when he understood that I was
perfectly serious.  He looked tempted, but caution won out.  He
took his hand away from the zipper.  "No.  I'd almost certainly
have a wreck.  But thanks for offering."  

I guess I could see his point.  It might be embarrassing if
something happened.

"But officer, I was distracted," I said.  "There was a naked girl
in my car and she was pleading with me to pull over and put my
dick into her."

"Yeah, that.  You're really something, you know."

"Oh?"  I saw a compliment coming, but I wasn't sure what it would
be.

"Yeah.  When we stumbled into those guys back there, I knew there
would be trouble.  I wasn't too scared, though.  Remember, I'd
seen you fight.  I knew you could take care of yourself.  I was
more worried about holding up my end.  Those guys looked kind of
tough, and I've never been much good at fighting.  When I elected
boxing as my sport at school, I didn't have anyone else at my
weight, so I always had to fight bigger guys.  I usually got
creamed."

"You did very well this time."

"Yeah.  I did.  This time there weren't any Queensbury Rules.  He
tagged me one, and I still got a KO.  But you got six of them!"

"Five.  I didn't have to fight Skeeter."

"No, you fucked him into the ground.  That was painful to watch.
What did you do to him, anyway?"

"I tied off the base of his cock so when he came, it had no where
to go.  I think his prostate must have felt like it was
bursting."

"Damn!  That's horrible."

"So's rape."

"I guess.  But you didn't seem too terribly unhappy about the
situation.  You looked like...like you were in a porn video."

"Thank you.  It's nice to have my performance appreciated."

"Oh, I appreciated it all right.  Everyone did.  Right up to the
end," George laughed.  "I didn't know what had got into you at
first.  When you started that 'please don't rape me' stuff, I
wanted to tell you to shut up and stop putting ideas into their
heads."

"I think they already had that idea.  I'm pretty sure once they
got me naked, they weren't just going to offer me a smoke and
tell me stories."

"Ha!  So you told them one?"

"I had a flash of inspiration.  I made up something that I
thought would keep their attention on me and give you a chance to
get away."

"You wanted me to go for help?  I guess I screwed that up."

"No, I just didn't want you to get hurt.  I can take care of
myself."

"So I've seen.  You climb trees like a monkey and you kick butt
like Jet Li.  Why did I become your hick brother in the story?"

"You didn't scram when you should have, so I tried to write you
into the plot.  I thought if they thought of you as someone else
who would want a piece of me, they might not hurt you.

"Sorry, but your show was too good to walk out on."

"Oooooo!  Thank you.  I love hearing that!"

"Is that why you did all that?  Just to show-off?"

"Un hunh.  I'm an incurable exhibitionist.  I've discovered that
I love performing for people."

"I thought you were just messing with them."

"That too."

"You realize they were Klan."  He didn't say it as a question,

"They were what?"

"Yeah, I was in a hurry and missed seeing the stickers on the way
in.  Otherwise I would have turned around and got the hell out. 
When that big guy turned up, I saw the emblem on his shirt."

That explained all the fires.  I've always heard that the Klan
was a bunch of firebugs.

"Darn!  I missed that.  I should have told them my name was Golda
Rabinowitz!"

"Oh, you do love fucking with people, don't you?  Or do you just
love fucking people?"

"Both, I guess.  I was a virgin too, not too long ago.  I think
I'm just making up for lost time." 

"I can understand that."

"Want to pull over again?"

George thought about it, bless him.  Then he said, "Not yet.  I
need to eat something first."

"You can eat me," I offered in a sexy voice.

"Tempting.  No offense, but I'd rather have a hamburger right
now.  I'll head over to the mall."

I thought of explaining that he really could eat me, and not just
in the way I implied by the way I offered, but I decided to save
that for another time, when we weren't so rushed.  I was still
looking for an opportunity to use Bambi's advice on how to use
breast milk in a dating situation.  Now that I knew I could do it
on demand, I wanted to keep doing it.

The food court at the mall served just about any type of
fast-food you could want, gyros,  gumbo, slaw-dogs or subs. 
George had a hard time deciding between pizza and a burger. 
While he made up his mind, I visited the little girl's room to
freshen up and fix my hair.  When I came out, he was sitting at a
small table next to the flow of traffic with a pile of food in
front of him.

"I got you a Deluxe Super Combo," he said, around a mouthful of
burger.

"Great," I said, stuffing a couple of salty fries in my mouth and
peeking under the top bun at the limp pickles and greasy McMeat.
It wasn't chateaubriand, but I was happy to have a break from of
that sort of thing anyway.  This was just fine with me.

We both ate like we were starving; not stopping until we had
finished both burgers and all the fries.  Then we sat there,
looking at each other.  It was a sweet moment.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I said, reaching out to put my hand
next to his.  He put his hand over mine and leaned closer.

"I'm thinking I might be able to eat an apple fritter," he said.

That hit both of us funny and we giggled like fools.  I think we
were both still high as kites from all the sex, but it could have
been low blood sugar too.  We were still trying to decide about
the fritters when a shadow fell across the table.

"Hey, Georgie, where'd you find the fox?"  

A couple of young gentlemen wearing Parkhurst polo shirts had
seen George and dropped by to say hello.  I didn't care for the
tone, but the compliment was clear.  I posed as prettily as I
could, forgetting that George had left my zipper set for a high
level of exposure.  I almost showed off more than would be
appropriate for the mall.  

George looked up and I think I saw him wince as he recognized his
friends.  

"Yeah, short-stuff," the other one said, "you been holding out on
us?  Or is this your cousin from Jacksonville?"

They both laughed at the joke, which I either didn't get or was
too lame to start.  They were getting off on the wrong foot with
me with that 'short-stuff' crack, but I held off judgment for
George's sake.  If these really were friends of his, I wanted to
make a good impression.

"Sam, this is Pete and Brad," George said, formally.  "They go to
Parkhurst, too."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, holding out a hand, politely.

"And we're sure as hell glad to meet you, darlin'," Brad said. 
He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he yanked me to my
feet and wrapped an arm around me, hugging me to his side with a
bit more familiarity than I liked.

"Yes, we certainly are," Pete agreed.  He leered at my boobs like
he'd never seen a pair before.

Brad seemed fixated as well.  He squeezed me so my shoulders were
pulled back, making my jumper slide further open so that part of
my right areola was peeking out.  I looked around to see if
anyone noticed, but with the throngs of shoppers, walkers, and
hangers'-out milling around, it was impossible to tell.

"Damn, Georgie," Brad said.  "Your cousin here has really got a
righteous set of hooters on her."  To emphasize his point, he
reached out his free hand and stroked my bare skin, dipping his
fingers in between my boobs.

George tried to get out of his chair, but Pete put out a hand and
clamped it on his shoulder, pinning him in his seat.  It was
looking less likely that these were actually friends of George's
and more like they were about to be greasy spots on the floor.

I looked down at George with one eyebrow raised in a quizzical
expression.  He smiled.  He smiled broader. Then he started to
laugh.

"What the hell is so funny, dwarf?" Pete asked.

Now that was really over the line; even if they had only been
kidding around.  My courteous mood chilled instantly.  I reached
up and picked Brad's hand off my shoulder like it was
contaminated.  He resisted a bit, but said nothing.  As I
continued raising his arm over my head, turning his embrace into
a twisting arm-lock, he resisted quite a bit, equally futilely.

Pete saw his buddy being abused and put out a hand to intervene.
I grabbed his arm and twisted it too until both of them were on
their knees with their arms out like they were trying to
propose.

People were taking notice now, but I couldn't help that.  I
wanted to be as discreet as I could, but these two had got my
blood up and I needed to have a word or two with them about their
behavior.

Call it fate, luck, or whatever, but at that moment I heard a
commotion down the corridor toward the main part of the mall.  I
looked up and saw man running toward the exit with a handful of
gold chains that all still had the tags attached.  Several steps
behind him was a security guard, huffing to try and catch up.

"Shoplifter?" I thought.  "Now?  You gotta be kidding!"

I looked down at my two kneeling admirers and said, "You two stay
right here.  I'll just be a second."

I let go of them and stepped out into the path of the fleeing
fugitive, bracing my feet as best I could on the slick floor.  I
waited until he tried to dodge around me and I grabbed his belt
in the back.  His momentum made me skid for a couple of feet, but
I held on and yanked, jerking him up into the air.

The shoplifter's feet flew straight out in front of him.  He hung
there for an instant before I threw his ass back the way he came.
 He landed with a thump and went sliding across the floor, coming
to a stop at the feet of the security guard.  It all happened so
fast I doubted any passersby had time to get a good look.  

I hurried back to the Parkhurst boys before they made up their
minds to scuttle off, but they hadn't moved an inch.  They'd had
a ringside seat for the show and were visibly impressed, as was
George.

"Where were we?" I said, raising my zipper to deny them any more
entertainment.  "Oh yes, no touching unless invited."  I grabbed
Brad's hand and slapped it sharply.  

He reacted like I had broken his fingers, yanking it back and
clutching it to his chest.

I shook my finger under Pete's nose.  He jerked away like it was
the barrel of a gun.

"Admiring is OK.  Leering is not." I told him.  "Now you boys run
along and play.  I want to finish my lunch with George here so we
can make-out some more.  If that's OK with you, sweetie?" I
asked, turning to George.

George managed not to burst out laughing long enough to say,
"Sure."



When Brad and Pete had gone, George had a question.

"Do you do that all the time?"

"What?"  I wasn't playing innocent.  I just didn't want to answer
the wrong question.

"That!  Beating up rapists, nabbing shoplifters, and slapping
down bullies."

"I suppose."  I had hoped it was going to a narrower question
than that.  Five hours with George had shown him a lot more than
I wanted.

"You forgot saving kitty-cats from tall trees!" I reminded him
helpfully.  I wanted to get him away from thinking about the more
violent stuff.  It didn't work.

"Right.  That too.  At least you don't go out destroying tanks,
like The Dragon."

There was a really uncomfortable silence after that.  I forced a
laugh and desperately tried to think of some way to change the
subject without it looking like I was changing the subject.

"Hoo!  That'll be the day.  Listen, while we're here, do you mind
if I go try on some bikinis?  Summers coming up and I'm going to
need some new swimsuits."  I would have suggested going lingerie
shopping, but that might have been too obvious.

"No, I don't mind," he said, smiling vacantly.  Either the
SuperDuperCheeseburger had got to his brain or the prospect of an
opportunity to ogle totally derailed his train of thought.

Boys are so predictable.  Even though they've seen you in the
buff, the idea of watching you model a swimsuit still gets them
all excited.  Before he could remember what we had been talking
about, I dragged him off to look at swimwear.

I actually did need some inspiration to help me expand my
personal line of skinwear, so it wasn't a complete ruse.  We went
through a couple of department stores, but there wasn't anything
there that I hadn't already seen.  Then we tried one of the
smaller shops around near the shoe-repair place and the tanning
salon.

The name of the shop was Anything Goes, and that seemed to fit
the place nicely.  They sold clubwear, swimwear, and lingerie;
all of it a good deal sexier than what you could find in the more
mainstream stores out on the concourse.  Some of their things
were pretty sexy even by my standards, so I spent more time
looking around than I should have.

As I browsed, George got antsy.  For some reason he was
uncomfortable standing between a display of lace push-up,
demi-bras and a rack of Brazilian-cut thongs.  His eyes kept
darting all over like he was afraid something would jump up and
bite him.  His nervousness was infectious, and I had serious
second-thoughts about the idea of taking him shopping with me.  

"Why don't you go wait over there, George?" I suggested, pointing
out the bench against the wall next to the fitting room.  "I'll
find something to model for you."

George was gone before I could blink.

I looked through a rack of bustiers and teddies, some of which
would have looked great on me if they had been anywhere close to
my size.  I had just moved on to the swimwear when the salesgirl
decided I was a real customer and got off her stool.

"Something I can help you with?" she asked, almost cracking her
gum.  She had the figure of a stick and accentuated it by wearing
a day-glo tube-top and a tight miniskirt.  I had a similar
outfit, but I thought mine looked much better on me than hers did
on her.

I couldn't very well tell her that I was scouting for ideas I
could steal, and we both knew there was likely to be little in my
size on the racks.  I pointed to a display of different-shaped
patches and said, "What are those?"

"Nipple Covers.  I don't know why we have those.  They don't sell
and they would look terrible on me.  The owner ordered them
because she saw some girls wearing them at spring break over in
Lauderdale and she thought they might catch on.

"Like pasties?  You mean...."

"Yeah," she said, finally cracking the wad of gum.  "You stick
'em on over your nipples instead of wearing a top.  They come in
three different sizes.  We've got hearts, stars, circles, solids,
patterns, even some with rhinestones.  The sticky stuff will last
several wearings if you put them back to back and keep them in
the bag.  Sorry, but you can't try them on or return them."

"That's OK.  I understand."  

The idea of stick-on clothes was a new one for me.  But it was a
perfect way to get around the problem of simulating straps that
never looked right because they had to lie flat against my skin.

"I hate strings and stuff," I confided.  "Always coming untied,
you know?  This might just be the thing for me.  Do you have
anything else like this?

"Well...," she said, furrowing her brow and thinking hard.  She
looked like I had asked her to derive a square-root in her head.
"We do have those bottoms over there.  They haven't been selling
either."  She seemed to be warming up to the idea that she might
be able to move some of the more unpopular stock.

The bottoms were like nothing I had ever seen.  They were just a
curved plastic frame with acrylic fabric stretched over it.  You
clipped it on between your legs and it stayed in place by holding
on above the curve of your butt and above your mound in front. 
You really had to have a flat tummy and a small butt to wear the
thing.  I qualified on both counts, so I was fascinated with it
right away.

My jumper was tight enough for me to get an idea of the size by
putting a couple of them on over it, and to my surprise, they had
an Extra-Small in bone white that looked like it would actually
fit.

Anything off the rack that fit me, I had to buy.  Mom would
totally understand.  I picked out a set of white star-shaped
pasties too, and asked her to ring it all up.

I handed over my credit card without a thought, and I even handed
over my badge and ID without being too self-conscious.  This
clerk wasn't quite ready to accept it at face value, though.

"I'm gonna have to check this," she said, edging toward the
phone.

"Please do," I told her, confidently.  "Ask for Lieutenant Grogan
or Sheriff Foster.  Either can confirm my identity."

I looked over at George, still grateful for the sanctuary of the
small couch.  I was glad he wasn't looking over my shoulder at
the moment.  I was also glad that I hadn't let him hold my
fanny-pack as a way of giving him something to do to keep him
busy.  He might have got curious and peeked inside at a whole lot
of things I'd rather he didn't know about.  He still hadn't asked
me to explain what I was doing with police-grade restraints.

I heard the girl give my name and ask if there was anyone named
Grogan there.  There was a pause and the rest of the conversation
was something I really wished I could have heard both sides of.

"Yes.  About Deputy Kramer.  She's here now.  I just.... Unhunh.
Yes, that's her all right.  Well, at the mall.  Yes.  No!  No! 
God, No!  I just wanted to check her ID!  What?  Yes, sir.  No,
sir.  Yes, sir!"

She put the phone down and stared at it like she was afraid it
would jump off the counter and run across the floor on its own. 
The silence that followed seemed to drag on for a very long time
until I finally got up the courage to break it.

"Problem?" I asked.

"He was about to have the whole SWAT Team and half the cops in
the county here in five minutes!  All I did was say your name and
he acted like the world was coming to an end."

"I have got to get a drivers license!" I muttered.  

The clerk handed back my badge and ID with an apologetic look. 
She fumbled through the rest of the transaction with a distracted
air. 

When I took the bag, I asked if she'd mind if I modeled my
purchases for my boyfriend.

"Go ahead," she said, smiling as she looked over at George. 
"He's cute."

"He's a stud muffin," I said, proudly.  I just had to tell
somebody.

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah.  Big time."

I left the salesgirl to bat her too-long, obviously-fake
eyelashes at George and I ducked into the fitting room.  I don't
know what I expected, but it surprised me when I pushed the
saloon-type swinging doors open and discovered that the room was
half the size of a shallow clothes-closet.  I wasn't even sure if
I was tall enough to be completely hidden by the slatted door.

"I guess if you're shopping here, modesty isn't an issue," I
thought.

Just so I wouldn't ruin the surprise, I kept my back to the door
while I stepped out of my jumper and applied the set of pasties.

They were thick enough to hide the outline of my rings, as well
as pretty effectively covering my big nipples.  On someone else,
they might have covered more, but on me they were just barely
larger than my areolas.

The bottoms fit as perfectly as I had hoped.  I thought there
might be a gap in the crotch, and there was, just a bit, but not
enough to be noticeable.  And it felt so deliciously cool to be
wearing something that only touched me in a couple of spots.  It
was nice to know I had an alternative to wear to the beach.  It
was wonderful to know that there were fashions that I could
simulate almost flawlessly.

When I came out to show it to George, I could tell he liked it
right away.

"Oh, wow!  That's very nice," he said, quite enthusiastically.

"You like?"

"Oh yeah!  Very much!"

I noticed that even the salesgirl was admiring my new swimsuit. 
If it was the suit she was looking at.

I did a few poses, including one where I put both hands behind my
head and cocked my hips to one side that they both seemed to
like.  While I held that, I saw George shift on the couch like he
was uncomfortable.  I think both the clerk and I noticed the
bulge in his shorts at the same time.

I went back into the fitting room to change back.  Through the
crack in the door, I saw the girl wander over to George, so I
didn't bother taking the white stars off, I just pulled off the
clip-on bottoms and pulled back on my jumper, jerking up the
zipper and snatching my stuff off the hook.

Even though I had been as quick as I could, when I came out, she
was practically sitting in his lap and he seemed happy for the
company.

"My own fault," I reminded myself, mentally stamping out the
flames of jealousy that rose up in my head.  "I'm a
blabbermouth."

I put my pack back on and walked over to the couch.

"Ahem.  I think you have a customer," I said, pointing toward the
front of the shop.

The girl touched George on the arm as she hopped up to go see
what she could do for the couple of middle-aged women who had
just wandered in.  She didn't even look guilty about trying to
steal George.

He struggled to his feet and I handed him my bag to cover his
'problem' with while I marched him out of the store.  It wasn't
until we were out in the corridor that he spoke up.

"You're not jealous, are you?"

"Not at all.  Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You're zipper is stuck."

I did a quick check and he was right.  I had caught the zipper's
teeth in the fabric of the jumper and it was hung well below the
appropriate level for a public place.  The better part of both
white stars were showing and I had 100% cleavage exposure.

I gave a tug on the zipper, but it was stuck fast.  Worse, it was
below my boobs in a spot where I would need a mirror to see to
get it unstuck.

I gave George a pleading look, but he shook his head.

"Remember when you offered to let me parade you around naked?" he
asked.  "Well, I'm calling your bluff.  You stay just like that
all the way to the car."

I must have blushed, because my face got very warm all of a
sudden.  I was embarrassed that I had acted like I did when I saw
that salesgirl trying to rub herself on George like a cat in
heat.  When I thought about how good I felt when I made that
offer I felt the warmth spread down my chest to my pussy, and
before I knew it, I was the one in heat.

If George wanted me to strut, I would strut my best.  It meant he
had picked me, and not the floozy   I mean the girl in the shop.
It meant he wanted to show me off, and showing off was one of my
favorite things.

I shrugged the jumper up so it would be as tight as possible
through my crack and around my butt.  I rolled my shoulders back
to push my boobs up and almost all the way out of the front of
the jumper.  I straightened my spine and held my head high and
put my arm through George's and I strutted proudly down the main
concourse of the mall, smiling at everyone we passed.

The rush of the massive afterglow I had going came back to me and
I found that I could also tap back into that happy/goofy feeling
that gives girls that freshly-fucked look.  It was intoxicating.

As we marched along, people noticed.  George must have seen the
looks, because he slowed down to a leisurely stroll and started
grinning.

Moving so slowly meant I could hear more of the comments from
passersby, even the confidential whispers.  Some were of the 'Oh,
my goodness!' sort, in a shocked tone, but most were admiring,
even complimentary.  

I saw one girl poke her boyfriend in the ribs and ask,
accusingly, "You like that?  Would you like me to walk around
with my boobs out like that?"  Her tone slipped from hostile to
flattered and she went on, "You really think I'd look good in
something like that?"  

The answer from her boyfriend was swift and affirmative, "You
bet!"

I turned my head to see their faces.  The girl's venomous
expression faded as she got the implication that her boyfriend
thought she could look like me in the right clothes.  She looked
like she was wondering if she had the courage to strut through
the mall with her boobs out.

When we turned a corner in front of McGregors department store, I
was stopped by a trio of girls wearing green and white
shorts-and-crop-top uniforms bearing the overtly phallic logo of
a local men's club.

"That is so hot!" One of them told me.

"Where did you get those stars?" Another asked.

"I've got to have a pair like those!" The third gushed.  I think
she meant the stars.  

"I got them at Anything Goes," I said.  "Back that way.  Turn
right."  And I pointed.

All three rushed off, talking excitedly about how they would look
in their new pasties.  

"You've started a fad," George observed.  

"Maybe," I allowed.  I tried to remember if any of the nipple
covers had had tassels on them.

It was real kick to be out in public with my boobs on display.  I
felt positively naughty and more than a little bit turned on by
the stares of the passing gawkers.  I ran a finger over the slick
vinyl surface of one of my stars.  I could feel my nipple trying
to fight its way out and my ring trying to push free, but the
adhesive held everything in place remarkably well.  I thought
that if I didn't get arrested, or asked to leave the premises,
this might be one of my better experiences with edgy fashion.

"How are you doing?" I asked, remembering George's condition when
we left the shop.

George moved the shopping bag he had been carrying slightly to
one side and I could see that his erection was even more obvious
now than before.

"Oh, George!  Is that because of me?"

"Unhunh!  It gets worse every time I look at you."

"We have to do something about that."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"Well, I know what I want to do with it.  The question is where
can we go?"

"The restroom?"

"Not private enough.  This problem may take some time to work
out.  What if we sneak into that empty store?"

The narrow storefront had been one of those niche specialty shops
that kept reinventing itself with a different specialty every few
months until the proprietors either ran out of money or ideas. 
There were generic 'Watch This Space' banners covering the
whitewashed plywood panels hiding the dark shop from public view
that indicated to me that it was the ideas that ran out first.

I walked casually over to lean on the plywood door and peered
into the tiny crack between it and the rest of the panel.  It
seemed to be held shut with a simple screen-door hook.  I pulled
a nail file out of my pack and had the door open in seconds.

At the next gap in the traffic into McGregors, we slipped
inside.

The place was exactly as it had been the last time I saw it open.
 Some plastic ferns on either side of a couple of display cases.
The cases were empty now.  I couldn't remember what had been in
them the last time I had passed by during the Christmas shopping
crush.

George closed the door and put the hook back on.  The lights in
the small store were off, but there was a clear panel of glass
above the plywood that let in more than enough to see by.  I took
off my pack and laid it on one of the glass cases.  George came
over and stood in front of me, staring, unsure what to do next.

I carefully lowered his zipper and pulled down the waistband of
his briefs.  His hard cock almost jumped out into my hand.  It
was sticky and hot.  When I let go, it stuck out perfectly
horizontal, bobbing invitingly.

I yanked down my zipper without thinking and felt it free itself
from the bite it had on the jumper.  Shrugging it off my
shoulders I let it drop, catching it with the heel of one foot
while I stepped free with the other.  I snatched it and leaned
over to lay it on the display case with my pack.

George stared just as hard at my butt as he had at my boobs.  It
was nice to know that someone liked scrawny rears, so I leaned
over the case, spread my feet apart, and went up on my toes to
show it to him.

This was apparently the moment he had been waiting for.  He
stepped up and shoved his hard cock between my legs, raking it
through my wet lips and across my clit.

The feel of his hot, hard cock against my pussy made me shake all
over for a second.

"Ooooohhh!  George!" I cooed.  "That feels wonderful."

He pulled back slowly, stroking between my lips and feeling his
way to my opening.

I had never had sex in this position before, bent over with my
little butt up in the air.  Every other boy had been too tall to
be able to stand behind me with our hips at the same level.  The
novelty of it amplified the anticipation and I started to get
really wet.

The knowledge that hundreds of people were passing by just
outside of our hiding place added a lot, too.  Workmen might walk
in, or anybody might hear us and put an eye to the crack and see
me bent over the display case with my boobs flattened on the
glass.

I decided to be nasty and tease George a bit.  Maybe I was just
trying to rationalize it because of the way I got jealous
earlier, but at the time I told myself it was just to spice
things up with George.  This would be about the umpteenth time we
had screwed today and I didn't want things to get boring.

When he found my hole, George got a surprise.  I had clenched it
closed as far as I could to make myself even tighter than I was
as a virgin.  I figured that George had given me his virginity,
so the least I could do was let him have the same experience   or
as close as I could manage, anyway.  I also wanted to erase any
lingering doubt I had in my own mind that Skeeter's promise to
turn my pussy into a sloppy cave was just a big steaming pile.  I
put off deciding if the rest of his line of bull concerning my
needing a continuous supply of cock was equally wrong.  Going
strictly by subsequent events, I couldn't think of a real strong
rebuttal to that one.

"Please hurry, George," I whined, panting dramatically.  "I need
your cock in me real bad, sweetie."

George lowered his hips and pushed with the amount of force he
had used before.  The head of his cock speared into my pussy and
stuck there.

"Oh!  Don't tease me, George!  Put it in!"

I reached back and put a hand on my butt, looking over my
shoulder as though I could see what the problem was.

George pulled out and put his hand down there to make sure he was
in the right place.  I felt him feel around and I felt the tip of
his finger press into my tiny hole.

"Oooooooh!  That's it, George.  That's the spot.  Pleeeeease put
it in."  I breathed huskily.  I tried to put some urgency into my
voice and still keep it to no more than a loud whisper, reminding
him that if we made too much noise, people would hear.

George tried again to get his cock into my vagina.  He held his
finger in place and guided his cock to the spot.  He shoved
against me, grunting, as he forced his cock into me hard enough
to make the head pop through.

"EEEEEEEEiiiiiiiiiii!  Yes!  That's it!  Give it to me!"

I don't know what effect I was having on George, but I was sure
turning me on with this routine.  My nipples had crinkled up so
hard that the rings actually hurt as they pressed against the
vinyl.  I wanted to just rip the nipple covers off and let them
be free in the still air, but I thought it would be lots hotter
to deny myself that relief and just suffer with them trapped like
that.  I swore I could feel my nipples squirming under the stars,
desperately trying to break free of their plastic prison.

George humped against me again, shoving me up against the display
case so that my legs were pressed into the glass front.  He might
have forced his cock in another inch or so, but he still had a
ways to go.

I reached back with both hands and pulled my butt-cheeks apart,
as though they were somehow responsible for his lack of
penetration.

"Put it IN!  I've got to have that cock!" I demanded, jerking my
butt up and down to try to help him force his cock inside me. 
When that didn't work, I pushed my lower lip out and pouted at
him like he was teasing me unfairly.

George was becoming impatient, either from being frustrated at
not being able to get into me, or because he was getting really
turned on.  He began to move his hips around to lever more of his
cock into me.  His thrusts got more and more insistent and he
grew rougher trying to force his way into my tight pussy.

"Uuurrrggh!" he grunted, shifting his feet and trying to get
better more weight behind his thrusts.

When he still failed to make satisfactory progress, he did
something that shocked the fool out of me   he slapped my butt. 
Not a playful slap either.  A whole hand, get-your-arm-into-it,
hard slap.

The first thing that happened was it startled me so much that for
a second, I lost my tight grip on his cock and he was able to
force it deeper inside.

The second thing was it instantly made me incredibly hot!  No one
had ever spanked my ass during sex before.  The sharp pain seemed
to echo through me and resonate in my nipples and especially my
clit.

I grit my teeth and turned my head back to look at George.  Now
that he was inside, he was focused on trying to loosen me up
enough to fuck.  He took one look at the expression on my face
and slapped my butt again, leaving a bright pink handprint on my
cheek that burned like I had been branded.  The sensation seared
through me, sending pulses of pain and intense pleasure up my
spine, plunging me into a fit of raw animal lust.

"Yeoowwl!" I growled, like a tigress in heat.  I dropped my
teasing act and instantly pushed up onto the balls of my feet,
pushing my pussy up and yielding completely to George's probing
cock.

George shoved as deeply into me as he could, his hips pounding
into my butt and his balls swinging up sharply to smash into my
inflamed clit.  His cock felt like it was swelling up inside me,
quivering in triumph at having finally broken my resistance.

"Fuck me!" I hissed urgently through my teeth.

George needed no coaching.  He pulled almost all the way out and
then began a series of hard, deep strokes that got faster and
faster until he was going even faster and harder than he had the
first time.

The friction made my pussy incredibly hot.  Juice poured out of
me and over his cock, splashing from his balls onto the glass
case on every stroke.  My nipples were screaming for release, but
it was too late to do anything about them now.  All my attention
was centered on the powerful sensation that was building up
inside me.

I wanted to say something to George, to encourage him, to
apologize, to thank him, I really don't know what.  I opened my
mouth, but all that came out was a low moan that got higher in
pitch until it faded into silence.  After that, I started to
climax hard and I kind of lost track of anything else.

I remember lying limply on the display case, my butt in the air
and my boobs mashed between my chest and the glass case.  I
remember hearing myself moan, but I don't remember doing it.  It
seemed like I was so disconnected from what was happening that it
may as well have been happening to someone else.  The waves of
pleasure that roared through me drowned all sense of time and
place, leaving me drifting through an endless series of orgasms.

When I finally came back to my senses, George had stopped moving
and was standing perfectly still with his cock buried deeply
inside me.  He seemed to be frozen in this position, waiting for
something.  Seconds later I found out what it was when his cock
erupted, spewing his hot cum into me.

I guess I was just too climaxed-out to react.  I just lay there
and purred contentedly while his cock pulsed again and again,
feeding my hungry pussy it's favorite juice.

"Wow," he said, plainly, when he was finished.  

He didn't pull out right away.  He just kind of leaned into me,
resting on my ass with his cock still inside, his hands on the
case to either side of my butt, slowly rolling his hips around to
savor the feeling of having his spent cock in a hot, wet place.

I was very drunk from the aftereffects of all my climaxes, but
managed to rouse myself from the stupor I was in and I pushed my
back up and into George's chest.  I turned my head and kissed
him, running my hand along his stomach where the muscles were
still twitching from their workout.  George reached around and
lightly stroked my boobs.

"Mmmmmmm," I purred into his mouth.  "That was even better than
before.  You are fantastic."

"Um," he started, then he paused.  "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Oh, don't be!" I gushed.  "That was amazing.  I felt...I don't
know...like a naughty little girl who was being punished for
being a tease.  It made me super hot."

"Well, you were being mean," he scolded.

He put his hand on my butt, just where he had hit me.  The sting
had mostly gone, but it was still very pink.  The warmth of his
hand made my butt relive the pain and it twitched at his touch.

"Are you going to 'pank me again?" I asked in my 'little girl'
voice.

He rubbed my butt gently; then he raised his hand just above the
skin, where I could feel the heat, but not the touch.

"Maybe," he smiled.  "Are you going to be a bad girl?"

"I'm a very bad girl!" I said, giddily.  

"Yes, you certainly are," he agreed.

I thought he might spank me some more, but he backed away, slowly
withdrawing his depleted cock.  I stayed on my toes with my butt
as high in the air as I could get it, trying to tempt him into
giving me another swat.  I was very disappointed when he didn't.
I was so hot for it that thought I might cum, just from the sharp
smack of his hand on my glowing cheek.

"We better go," he said.  "You were kind of loud there a few
times.  I'm afraid if we stay here, we'll get caught."

He was probably right, so we got dressed.  For him, it was as
simple as pulling his pants up.  Then he went over to the door to
peek through the crack to see when it was clear to leave.

When I put my jumper back on, I noticed that part of the pink
handprint on my butt showed where the leg opening was cut high in
the back.  I smiled at the thought of someone seeing it and
knowing I had been bad enough to be spanked.  I pulled the jumper
as high into my crack as I could get it, so more of the mark
would show.  Bad girls should be made to show their rosy bottoms
so everyone will know they've been naughty and had to be
punished.

When I went to zip up the jumper, I left it open enough so that
my breasts were completely exposed and the white stars were their
only cover.  I felt a really strong urge to leave off the jumper
completely, to walk out of there and strut my pink ass and my
thoroughly-fucked pussy through the mall.  I was so high that I
actually got as far as pulling the zipper down to the crotch when
George suddenly reached back for me.  I just had time to grab my
fanny-pack and shopping bag off the display case before he pulled
me out into the mall.

We walked away quickly to put some distance between us and the
partly-open plywood door.  George didn't turn around until we
were back in the main flow of traffic again.

"Oh, gee!" he said, when he saw how I was almost-dressed.  "This
just gets better and better."

"You have no idea," I said in a low tone, "just how close I came
to walking out of there naked.  Something about having lots of
orgasms makes me crazy.  I want everyone to know what a stud you
are and how much you made me cum.  Being seriously fucked makes
girls want to strut their stuff."

"And you're already a total show-off," he said.  "You're
dangerous!"

"Guilty!" I agreed.

We laughed at that and he pulled me through the mall and out to
the car before I had a chance to do something even wilder.



When he pulled out of the parking garage, the breeze through the
open window of the car cleared my head some, so I was able to
overcome my impulse to moon everyone we passed, but I was still
high as a kite and it looked like I would be soaring for a while.
 In this state, my nipples were still plenty swollen and the
stars were still uncomfortable.  Since I wasn't on a rising tide
anymore, 'uncomfortable' wasn't the turn-on it was before.  I
carefully peeled both nipple covers off and stuck them back to
back so the adhesive would last.

With them off, my nipples were much happier.  The cool wind kept
them stiff and they were able to stand right up and enjoy the
ride.  After we had gone a block, they felt so good that I had to
play with them some.

At the next traffic light, George turned his head and stared at
me.

"You're amazing," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah.  You're totally fearless, you can fight like the devil,
and you are way hotter than any fantasy I've ever had.  And I
thought I had some nasty ones!"

"Thank you!"

"Just how much have I been missing out on?  Are all girls like
you?"

I was really in a quandary about how to answer that.  If I said
'yes', George might be very disappointed later on.  He might even
make an assumption that could get him in trouble if he thought
all girls had my sex drive.  If I said, 'no' I would be admitting
that I was somehow 'special' and that could lead to more
embarrassing questions.

"Not all," I said.  "Some.  Maybe even more than some.  I'm just
a little less inhibited than most."

His eyes dropped to my chest where I was still idly playing with
my nipples.  They were big and fat and felt very nice, and I
couldn't stop rolling them between my fingers.

"OK, so maybe I'm a lot less inhibited than most.  But remember,
you're partly responsible for this.  You and your 'problem'.  You
don't have a problem George, you have a gift.  If any girl tells
you it's a problem, get a new girl."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that.  George, what kind of girls do you like?  What's
your type?"

"I don't know.  I haven't...well, you know."

"So, you need more experience before you can even decide which
girls you like and which you don't?"

"I guess.  I like you!"

"Thank you.  And I like you too.  Quite a bit, actually.  But
like I said when we met, I have a boyfriend and we have kind of
this mutual thing that's very special.  But even that doesn't
mean I can't have fun with other guys.  It's too soon for either
of us to be getting tied down to the first person who comes along
that we think we like.  Get out there and explore!  Date as many
girls as you can, so you will know when the right one comes
along."

I remembered that I had promised Angie to pass her number along
for George to give to one of his friends, or scrawl it on the
restroom wall or something.  I handed it over and told him what
it was about and that it belonged to a real wild-child who loved
doing it in cars.  George misunderstood that part, and I didn't
say a word about it.

"So if I call her, or that salesgirl...?"

"Did that hussy give you her number?"

"Yeah," he said, guiltily

"Well...good for you!"

"You're not jealous?"

"I have no right to be," I said, avoiding a direct answer.  "Were
you jealous when I was being gangbanged by those Klan guys?"

"No, I was just really turned on.  When I realized you were
messing with them, I stopped being scared and...."

"And what?"

"I thought about getting in line."

"Well, I hope you weren't planning on being last!"

"Hey, I'm just glad I wasn't the first!"

"I wouldn't have hurt you!  But yeah, Skeeter's probably going to
regret that for awhile.  I hope they all do.  You know, I thought
it would be over before he got it in me good.  I expected him to
notice what I'd done long before he did.  What happened to him is
his own darn fault!"  I think I was trying to apologize for
letting Skeeter put his cock in me before George could.  I did
feel kind of bad about that.

"You had him so hot for you that he wouldn't have noticed if
you'd set his balls on fire."

"What a nice compliment!  I think...."  Apparently George wasn't
going to hold my lapse in manners against me.

"I know you could have set mine on fire   you know, out there in
the woods.  Ah, I wanted to ask you...was I, like, OK?  Did I do
it right?"

"What did it look like to you?"

"It looked like you were having a good time.  After the second
time, you were mostly out of it."

"I was.  Oh, I was!  And that's how you know if you're doing it
right.  If your date loses touch with the world and just makes
noises, chances are she's having a good time.  If she wants to
discuss current events or watch TV while you're making out, you
may be doing something wrong.  Sorry, I can't be more specific. 
I'm sure different girls are turned on by different things.  For
myself, I just love it when a guy just lets himself go and gets
totally into it."

"How do I know what a girl likes?  I don't want to be too
rough."

"If it isn't blindingly obvious, you could always ask.  If she
has her nails in your back or is raking your butt with her spurs,
I think you can assume she wants you to be rough.  When in doubt,
ask.  Until then, start slow and pay attention.  In fact, the
best advice I can give you is to pay attention.  Some girls like
to play games."

"Like 'Please Don't Rape the Virgin'?"

I started to laugh at that.  After a couple of giggles, I quit. 
That game can be played two ways and I didn't want to give George
any bad advice.

"Sort of.  If a girl has her clothes off and her legs in the air,
it's a game.  If she has her clothes on, her legs crossed, and a
terrified look on her face, it's not a game.

"That's an extreme example, but I think I caught the essence of
the thing.  Fantasies are wonderful things.  But you need to be
sure you are both playing the same game.  If you're not sure,
talk it out first.  That way you will know if you both have the
same script."

"OK," he nodded.

"Are you going to have any trouble with Pete and Brad because of
me?"

"You mean more than I had before?  I doubt it.  If they are
smart, they'll leave me alone.  Otherwise, I could tell everyone
how they got slapped down by a girl no bigger than me."

At the next stoplight, George looked at me with an expression I
couldn't read.  He didn't say anything and I had to point out
that the light changed.  He didn't say anything more until we
were turning into the driveway of the Reynolds' house.

"I had a great time," I told him.

"Me too.  I hope we can get together again soon."

"Yeah."

I tried to think if there was some promise I could make to George
that wouldn't sound terribly dismissive.  The fact was that we
had been lucky to have had the time that we had.  I just had so
much going on that I didn't feel good about making a date I might
have to break.

"Look," I said.  "Call me whenever you want.  OK?  We'll see
about getting together sometime.  I've just got a lot going on
right now, you know?"

"Sure!"  He sounded very understanding.  "I can see how you would
be pretty busy, all right."

I got out with my shopping bag and my pack and I waved as he
backed down the drive into the street.  I wondered about what he
might have been thinking when he talked about me slapping down
Pete and Brad and I remembered that I had interrupted my lesson
in manners with them to apprehend a shoplifter.  

The business with the shoplifter had happened so quickly!  I
didn't even think about anything other than how inconvenient it
was at the time.  Surely with all that had happened; that
wouldn't be the one thing that stuck out for George?  Maybe if I
hadn't reminded him about it?  Maybe if I hadn't done it?  But I
had to.  I mean, I couldn't just stand there and let the guy get
away.  Could I?

I was still buzzing quite a bit when I went into the house.  But
I was thinking more serious thoughts than usual for that kind of
feeling.  After supper, I took my books down to the workshop and
got all my schoolwork caught up.  I even cranked out a paper that
wouldn't be due for another two weeks.

I did it all with the police-band radio on in the background, in
case something happened or there was a call for unit DR-1.  It
was a quiet night, though.  No major crimes went down and no one
needed my help.  Darn it!





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