Kids Nowadays

by Kellis

Winter, 2006



“He’s sloppy, like boys are supposed to be, but he’s very neat in some things.”

That’s Aunt Bertha’s voice.  I stop just past the kitchen door, where she sits drinking coffee with Claire, her upstairs neighbor.  I wonder what boy they’re talking about.

“What kind of things, Bertha?  My brother was totally untidy.”

“So far he hasn’t spotted the sheets, for example.”

Hasn’t done what?

Claire chuckles.  It’s easy to tell their voices apart.  Aunt Bertha’s is very high pitched, Claire’s lower.  She’s like, “Maybe he doesn’t jizz yet.”

“Oh yes, he does.”

“How do you know, if you don’t find a spot?”

“It’s one of the ways he’s neat.  I find a Kleenex or two in his trash can every morning … with that unmistakable odor.”

Good god!

“Bertha!  I can just imagine you unfolding one and sniffing.”

Aunt Bertha laughs.  “I’m sure you can.  Here.  Take a sniff.”

I have to see that.  Creeping back to the door, I peer around the jamb.  Aunt Bertha’s arm is extended across the table, holding something white in the visitor’s face.  Claire pants a little.  Her voice gets a funny tone, like in church.  “Oh god, Bertha, that’s the right stuff!”  She grabs the tissue from my aunt’s hand.  “You’ve got more of them, haven’t you?”

“I could have several new ones every day.  Ted’s only thirteen.  Do you remember what your brother was like at thirteen?”

She really is talking about me!  And that’s probably last night’s come-soaked tissue Claire is still sniffing.  What does Aunt Bertha do — carry trash around in her robe pocket?  I get the idea that both of them like that smell.  My cock twitches.

Claire goes, “Boys get obsessed at that age.  Who could forget?  My brother was proud of jerking off in every room of the house and every tree in the yard.”

“Bragged, did he?”

“Oh, yes, when I caught him at it in my bedroom.  And I think he spied on me in my bath.  Mom redecorated the bathroom after us kids left home and found a peep-holed bored from the attic over the tub.”

Hey, an idea!  Two of them, except I don’t have a sister.  Well, I do, but she’s grown and married off.

Aunt Bertha laughs indulgently.  “Boys will be boys.”

Claire shrugs.  “That I wouldn’t mind, if they ever grew up.”

“What do you hear from Arnold?”

“His next meal-ticket after me called me up last night to cry on my shoulder.  One thing’s for sure: that big-dicked bastard will never go hungry.”

Arnold, big dick or not, is totally uninteresting.  But I want to get close to Claire.  She hugged me against her tits just the other day.  And winked.

While I’m slipping down the hall to the screen door, noiseless in bare feet, Aunt Bertha goes, “It seems odd for her to bother you.”

I wait to hear the response: “Everyone loves sympathy.”  I slam the door and scurry back to the kitchen.  The women look up, Aunt Bertha still in her housecoat, barefooted, and Claire in a halter, shorts and toe-strap sandals.

She goes, “Hiya, Ted!  You look thirsty.”

“Hey, Claire.  Sure am!”  In fact that’s why I left the den.  Another thing nice about Claire is she doesn’t make me call her Ms. Phelps.  Still another is the strap that’s fallen off her shoulder and lets me see more of her left tit than the right.  Nice jugs!  Suddenly I wonder if her nipples are big as Mama’s, not that I expect ever to find out.  She’s a blonde and Mama a brunette.  Does that make a difference?

Aunt Bertha gets up, takes a can of coke from the fridge and passes it to me.  I pop the top and suck out a long pull while she sits back down.  I burp really loud, wondering what she’ll say.

“Teddy!” she calls, eyes big, but Claire laughs.  Aunt Bertha makes a face but cracks a smile and joins in.

Claire’s like, “You said it: boys will be boys.”

“Oh, you’d forgive anything in britches.”

Claire looks pointedly at the bikini I’m wearing for when the pool opens in another hour.  “Is that what you call what’s on his bottom?”

“No,” says Aunt Bertha.  “I’d call that next to nothing.”  She laughs kind of sour.

Claire’s like, “You have to be careful around the girls wearing that, don’t you, Ted?”

“Ah, ah …”  I know what she means, of course.  My face gets hot.  Both women laugh.  I feel my cock twitch again.

“He has to pretend to be careful,” Aunt Bertha says.  “Sit down with us, Ted, and drink your coke before you go charging off to get them all excited.”

“I wish!”  But I sit down.  Both aunt and friend are hot babes, even if they’re lots older than I am.  I want to hear what they think might excite the girls at the pool.  Besides, if my cock keeps twitching it’s gonna need to be under the table.

Claire grins like she knows something.  “We were just talking about you.”  Her hand flies over and pats my chest.  It feels cool and hot at the same time.  “Nice pecs.  Do you exercise, Ted?”

“I’m on the swimming team.”

“Well, you’re a good-looking boy.  I can’t believe you have any trouble with the girls.”

“I wish I did!”

Aunt Bertha kind of frowns.  “Say that again.  What do you mean, Teddy?”

“Don’t they have to like you to get you in trouble?”

Both women laugh but Claire is looking at me funny.  “You’re thirteen, right?  How long are you going to stay with your aunt?”

“At least a couple of weeks.”  I grin at her.  “Maybe that pool full of girls will notice me.”

“Have you talked to them yet?”

“They go, ‘Hi!’”

“You need to say more than that, you know.  Have you told them how good they look?”

“Ah, ah …”

“Don’t you think they look good?”

“Oh, god!”

Again the women laugh.  Claire goes, “You need vocabulary building.  Bertha, how about loaning him to me for a while.”

“Claire …”

“He can help me paint the bedroom.”

“With what?”

For some reason Claire’s expression reminds me of a cat watching a bird.  “I know just the right off-white.”

“I’ll bet you do!”

Claire chuckles.  “While we improve his vocabulary.”

Aunt Bertha is looking at me.  “Do you want to go help Ms. Phelps?”

She always calls her that when she’s talking to me.  I shrug.  “Sure!”

“Then step outside and get some fresh air.  Let Claire finish her coffee.”


Aunt Bertha asks something while I go down the hall.  Her high voice is soft and I can’t make it out, but Claire’s response is plain enough.  “My intentions?  Don’t start that crap, lover!”

Lover?  What a thing to call Aunt Bertha!  She had one, I know, until her guy left, I think it was the first of the year.  Mama’s talked about it.  I guess women can get as many lovers as they want.

I wait on the long porch that the building shares.  A couple of little girls are playing hop-scotch on the cement walkway to the pool.  Nobody else is in sight.  It’s still too early and the pool gates are locked.  I helped Mama paint the kitchen last year.  It’s easy.  Maybe Claire will pay me something.

The little girl with black hair stops at the near end of their diagram and studies me.  “You’re the new guy in seven.”


She undulates her bikinied hips at me.  “So you’re hot.”

She looks to be about eight or nine.  “What do you know about hot?”

“Everything.”  They giggle.  Christ, the kids nowadays!

Still, they’re female even if titless.  I go, “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Both giggle again.  The blonde one blushes, but not black hair.  She jerks her bikini bottom to one side.  I get a flash of pink gash before she straightens up, staring at me, hands on her hips.

I realize I’m taking a hell of a chance but what the hell, nobody else is in sight.  I grab my spandex bikini in the groin and pull it wide open for just a second.  My dick, about half hard from being near the women, feels the cool air.  Both girls stare intently.  I swear their mouths fall open.

“Wow!” goes the blonde.

Black hair’s like, “Cool!”  She nudges the blonde.  “Your turn.”

The blonde’s flush returns.  She looks around, sighs, pulls her bikini to the side.  All I get to see is the back of her hand and maybe half of a hairless pussy.

Black hair says, “Your mom’s gone all day.”

The blonde blinks.  “So what?”

“We could all play in your room.”

“Oh.”  Both of them look intently at me.

“Play doctor?” I ask.  Hell, I know better than to go with them but they don’t know I know it.

“Doctor!” goes black hair scornfully.  She sniffs and starts to say more but her eyes look past me and get larger.

The women didn’t take long with their coffee.  Aunt Bertha stands behind the screen door.  “Come on, Teddy.”

I wink at black hair and follow my aunt into the hall.  She adds, “Aren’t those girls a bit young for you?”

“Maybe.”  Christ!  What did she hear — or see?

“You’d do well to stay out of their apartment.  Ms. Phelps is going up to hers.  I’m taking advantage of her to go shopping.  She’ll feed you.  After lunch you can go to the pool until I get home.  That’s liable to be kind of late.”

The staircase is in the foyer.  I follow Claire up to the second floor.  She has a nice, cheeky ass that stretches her shorts smooth.  Her legs look good too.  Very good.  Suddenly I’m surprised to realize just how thrilling a woman’s leg can look.  That shape, the thighs tapering to the knee and the calf bulging to lift her up a step, everything smooth as velvet … wow!  My bikini gets tighter.

She stops in front of the door to fit her key, giving me a quick glance.  But her eyes drop to my bikini and linger.  A little grin flashes on her lips and she looks up at me.  The grin becomes an indulgent chuckle as the door opens.

“Come on in, Ted.  Is my impression correct?  Did you enjoy an epiphany on the stairs?”

“A what?”

“Are my shorts too loose?  They certainly don’t compare to yours!”

“Your … your shorts?”  I want to tell her I was admiring her legs but somehow the words stick crosswise.

“Come on through.”

She’s still chuckling as I follow her into her kitchen.  A bathroom opens off it.  She whirls around and snatches her shorts down.  I get a glimpse of blonde hair — she’s a natural! — before she plops on the commode.  She points at the table in front of the door.  “Sit down while I get a little relief.”

I turn my back and pull out a chair.  I can feel my ears burning.  Behind me piss rattles into the water, which surprises me.  I remember seeing Mama piss when we went camping, which made me believe it comes out of women more forward than down.  Maybe it varies from one to another.

“Turn around and let’s talk, Ted.  What do you hear from your mother?”

 I turn the chair around.  “She … got the job but doesn’t have a place for both of us to stay yet.”

“She’s looking for an apartment?”

“Yeah.  She’s like so far there’s only one-bedroomers.”

Claire grins.  “You’re too big to sleep with your mother, eh, Ted?”

“She thinks so.”

“It’s just you and she, right?  Your father died?”

“He was killed in Iraq.”

“I’m sorry, Ted.  At least you’re the son of a hero.”

“Grandpa says it’s a hard act to follow.”

“I suppose it is!  So you’re staying with your aunt until your mother finds a place?”


“Do you know what your aunt says about you?  She wishes you were hers.”

“Really?  I like her too.”

“Then you must visit her often.  And me.”

I don’t know what to say to that.  She grins, tears off some toilet paper, gets up, wipes herself, flushes the toilet and steps right out of shorts, panties and sandals, using the opposite foot to hold the side down.  She stands with her hands on her hips and her shapely legs spread a little.  I’ve seen pictures of cunts in the magazines I used to keep under my mattress at home, but never a real one like this.  The — I think they’re called lips — sort of bulge down under the blonde hair, actually sticking out between her legs with a wrinkly slit that runs up to the clit.

Now my bikini is really tight.

Her eyes are twinkling.  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I heave I sigh and say the only thing I can think of.  “Maybe the cat’s got my tongue.”

She chuckled.  “You’re witty enough, Ted.  Are you surprised I let you watch me pee?”


“It’s part of being intimate.”

“But … but …”

Her hands cross in front of her and catch the bottom edge of the halter on either side.  Up it goes over her head.  Her tits flop out.  Not that they’re so saggy.  They’re full as Mama’s, fuller than I guess Aunt Bertha’s are.  Surprise: the nipples, not as big as Mama’s, are pink! — and all crinkled up somehow.  She stands there in the bathroom door naked except for a wristwatch and a bangle.

“Don’t you want to be intimate with me, Ted?”

“I … I …”

“If you want it, do it.  Take off those skimpy trunks.”

I stand up and jerk them down, damn glad to free up my cock.  The bikini, which I kick under the table, was the only thing I was wearing, not even a wristwatch since the battery died.

She giggles.  “You’re an expressive fellow in your own way, Ted.  And you certainly have nothing to be ashamed of.”  She steps forward to stand just before me.  I smell something sweet — and something powerful that isn’t.  Another inch and my cock tip will touch her yellow bush.  She and I are the same height.  I’ll bet we weigh about the same too.  But Mama says I’m just starting to get my growth.

She goes, “Would you like some fudge?”

“I’d like …” I begin but I can’t finish.

Her eyes search mine.  “You’ve never had what you want right now, have you, Ted?”

I take a deep breath.  “No.”

“And food is the last thing on your mind.”


“Pretend I’m one of the girls from the pool.  What would you say to her?”

I think about it and go, “I wouldn’t say anything.”


“I’d do something.”  My hand goes out and cups a big, soft tit.  She only lets it stay a second or two, but it’s enough to know I’d never touched anything in my life before half so nice.  A tit is about the most comfortable thing you can ever hold.  It’s made for babies, which I guess is a good reason.

She shrugs out of my hand and says, “You have to tell her something first.”

I realize I’m going to explode.  My voice is ragged.  “St-step back.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m ab-about to come all over you.”

Her eyes widen.  “That’s certainly not the usual line!  We can’t have you making a mess, can we, Ted?”  And she drops to her knees, grabs me around the ass and slurps most of my cock right down her throat.  God, who would believe this?

But it’s happening to me.  I’m coming, a little squirt just as her mouth closes on me then a big one followed by three or four more little ones.  Everything below my belly button is trying to shoot into her.  I never felt anything so strong and so sweet.  Somebody is groaning.  My knees get weak.  I fall away from her, back into the chair, panting, and realize I’m the one who was groaning.

She kneels there a moment, her mouth working like she’s swirling something around in it.  God, I can just imagine!  But her eyes follow my dick.  She leans down and licks it back in.  I expect it to sort of hurt like when you keep on jerking afterwards, and it does.  But at the same time it feels so good I can only groan again.  But I keep my eyes wide open to relish what they see: my piss-pipe buried in a grown woman’s mouth and leaking a white bubble on each side.  I don’t know the word for that sight, but I’ve never seen anything so powerful.

She keeps it up just a moment before rocking back on her heels.  “I do love a wet cock!”  She grins.  “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

I take a deep breath, shake my head and say, “No-o-o,” in a quavering voice.

“Was Bertha right in what she implied: you do that several times a day?”

My eyes grow bigger.  “Get sucked off?”

She chuckles.  “I mean, ‘Come.’”

“Oh.  Yeah.”

“In every room of your aunt’s apartment?”

My ears get hot.

The chuckle becomes a laugh.  “I’ll help you do it in this one too.”

That is news!  “You will?”

“Who sucked you before, Ted — besides boys?”

“Boys!”  I make a face.

“Or men?  You’re just sprouting hair.  I can see just how delectable you’d look to the guys who go for that sort of thing.  I can’t believe one hasn’t diddled you.  How about your swimming coach?”

To a woman who’s just sucked your cock and swallowed your come, what’s not to talk about?  I stare at her, blinking in remembrance.  “Not the coach.  An old guy with a hard-on last year in the shower room when I was cleaning up after practice.”

She sighs.  “I’m disappointed.  Foolish of me.  I was hoping I’d got a cherry.”  Her voice has that final tone that adults get when they go, “That’s enough of that.”  She stands up.  Did she get enough of me already?

I talk fast.  “He goes, ‘Look here at mine.  You’re lucky not to have this skin.  You don’t have to worry about smecka.’”

“Smecka?  Was he intact?  Do you perhaps mean smegma?”

“Whatever.  He put my hand on it and made me skin him back, but I didn’t see anything much different.”

“You skinned him?”  She thought about it and grinned.  “Did that make yours stand up?”

“In no time.  He jacked mine a little bit, told me it would grow to a nice one and walked out of the shower.”

“You handled each other?”

“Just a little.  His knob was purple.”

“No doubt.  This happened at school?”

“In the Y.”

“Of course.  Did you see him again?”

“Once.”  I grin at her.  “I started towards him but he left.”

Her eyes crinkle.  “I think you wanted more touching.  Who was next?”


“Really?  This was your first blowjob?”


“What did you think?”

“I don’t know the words.”  I heave a big sigh, look into her eyes and declare, “I love you.”  It’s the truth too.

She smiles fondly.  “At least I’ve made you willing to talk to me.  Come on, let’s go in the bedroom.”

“You …”  I hesitate just a second, discovering I’m hungry.  “You said something about fudge.”

She swipes her hand through my hair with a chuckle.  “And your balls just got drained, eh?  I’ll bet your whole belly feels empty.”

I blink.  “Yeah, it does.”

“Well, it’s almost lunch time.”  She tilts her head.  “You’ll find coke in the fridge.  Pour a couple of glasses and I’ll make us sandwiches.  How would you like lunchmeat, cheese and relish?”

“Oh, wow!”

We eat quick.  Between bites she asks, “Do you like pancakes or waffles?”


“With lots of syrup, I bet.  Did you ever try them with sausage or bacon?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s special: sweet meat!”

She grins.  “How about with honey instead of syrup?”

“Never tried that but it sounds good.”

“Honey on meat?  We’ll try it for dessert.”


“Are you ready for it?”

“Dessert?”  I swallow the last bite of sandwich.  “Sure.”

She sweeps our napkins into the trash can under the sink and stretches up to a cabinet.  My eyes are glued to her waltzing tits and pouchy belly.  She takes down an amber jar, a syrup dispenser, I see, half full of honey.  “Come on into the bedroom.”

I finish my coke and follow her, discovering that the skin works funny under a walking woman’s crotch.  Of course they have to be naked for you to see it.  She strips the cover off the bed, down to the bottom sheet, glances at me, pauses and grins.  “Got something on your mind?”


“I mean, what’s that sticking out over your balls?”

My hand lifts up my hard cock before I get what she’s after.  My cheeks feel hot but I manage to go, “It’s your fault.”

“And I can fix it too.  Hold on one sec.”

In a jiffy she comes out of the bathroom, drapes a couple big towels over the bed, plops her butt down in the middle of them and opens her legs wide.  She’s got the honey jar in one hand.  The other points to her cunt.  “Get your tongue down here, pretty boy.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with the honey?”

“Give you your dessert.”

“Sweet meat?”

“You catch on fast.  Get up here.”

I crouch between her legs.

“Spead me out.”  She holds the honey jar right over her blonde bush.

My knees push on her inner thighs.

“No, no: my pussy lips.”

I bend right down to her and use my thumbs.  I smell piss and something else, not too sweet.  Meaty.  Her hole is full of pink folded flesh, glistening wet, with what looks like ridges receding inside.

“Did you ever see the like?” she asks.

“N-no.”  Which is true, not even in Hustler.  I look up.  She’s smiling.

“Yes, you have.”

“I have?”

“It’s meant for tongues, fingers and cocks to go in.  Once in a while a baby comes out.”

“I know that!”

“That’s how you saw one before.”

That idea tickles me.  “From the inside, you mean.”

“Unless you were a Caesarian delivery.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t want to know.  Let’s pretend you’re my little dog.”  She tilts the honey jar and works the release.  A line of thick amber spills over her clit and runs down inside her between my thumbs.  “Lick up your dessert, Ted.”

What a combination of flavors!  It must taste the way honey does on sausage — plus piss.  Not bad at all.  The odor has to be Claire, since honey doesn’t have much.

After several strokes her hands mash my temples and tilt my face up.  “What do you think, Ted?”

“I didn’t need the honey.”

“Oh?”  She looks pleased and extends her arm, setting the jar on a nightstand.  “Done this before?”

I shook my head with my tongue on her clit.  She twitches.

“Well, you’re starting out right.  Where your tongue is now — lick around it a few times then delve up some more honey.  Go to it, kid.  This feels as good to me as fucking my mouth did to you.”

“Do you let your dog lick you?”

“Probably would if I had one.  What’re you waiting for?”

So I follow directions, back and forth between hole and clit, mostly around the clit, which gets lumpier.  My cock is so hard it hurts.  After awhile her thighs close on my ears.  She is shuddering.  Her mound heaves up.  Faintly I hear groaning.  Her hips pitch around then her hands push my head back.  She writhes, face raised to peer at me between wobbling tits.  She grabs my neck like she means to choke me and pulls me up by the head over her hot body.  God, her arms are strong!

So are her fingers.  They grab my cock hard enough to hurt a little.  It slips into something wet and greasy.  Holy shit, I’m fucking a pussy!  It feels … perfect, better than anything ever felt before.  My chin falls on her shoulder.  When she’s lying down, her tits flop to the side so my chest only feels her cool cleavage.  Her hands clutch my ass cheeks and drive me into her.  Her hips are rolling forward and back as much as up and down.  She’s groaning like mad.

“Oh god, Ted, oh god!”  Her head twists back and forth.  “What a perfect light torso!  Oh god, fuck me!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!”

Which I do fast as I can, squishing and slapping.  She’s still talking, I think, but I can’t make out her words.  They’ve turned into a wavering scream.  I raise my head to verify her windows aren’t open.

All her muscles tense up, quivering.  I keep pounding her.  Something inside her grips my cock.  This must be how milking a tit feels to the cow.  Holy crap, it feels good!

Her screaming stops, turns into whimpers.  The thrill in my dick is holding at a medium strength.  I keep pounding her.  The squishing has smoothed out.  This is really something!  I wonder if all fucking feels like this and decide it can’t.  If it did, who’d do anything else?

Her finger finds my asshole and works into it.  My asshole!  Wow!

Panting between words, she goes, “Damn you, Ted, you’re amazing!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!”  There’s her scream again, like she has grit in her throat.  Again something like a fist grabs my dick.  Hands on my butt shove it into her to the bottom.  Or maybe the top.  I couldn’t say where it’s going.  Not that I care!

Now my stuff comes boiling up, not as much the second time, but still three or four big squirts.  God, it’s good!  I grunt and grit my teeth.  It’s over too soon but at least the supersensitive knob is not so tender this time.  I can even start fucking again.

But she could tell.  She stops and kind of relaxes, though still breathing hard.  She goes, “You just came,” in the same tone Mama says, “You raided the cookies.”

I let out a sigh.  “Couldn’t help it.”

“It was about time.  You’d’ve ruined me if you hadn’t.”

“Huh?”  Ruined her?

“I’m kidding, of course.”  She punches my shoulder.  “Let me get some air.”

Promptly I roll on my back beside her.

She has an odd little smile.  “Are you really only thirteen, Ted?”

“Thirteen and a half.”

She looks self-satisfied.  “Want to know a secret?”


“I like young guys.  You’re my youngest in an awful long time.  We’re going to have great fun, Teddy.”

She takes a very deep breath, levitates right out of the bed and into the bathroom.  I hear water running.  I wonder if anything’s wrong.  For sure nothing’s wrong with me.  I feel of my softening dick.  A minute ago it was squishy wet; now it’s only moist.  Sex juices sure do dry fast!  Working the skin gives me a little remembering thrill.

I just got my first blowjob, slurped my first pussy, fucked my first woman!  Wow!  Triple wow!  Three strikes in an hour.  Who said three strikes and you’re out?  Three strikes and I’m in!

I can’t hold in the feeling.  I jump up and run into the bathroom.  Claire is washing her pussy hair with a rag.  She looks surprised at me in the mirror.  I bend down, grab her around the waist, hug my cheek to her cool back and go, “Claire, I love you forever.”

“I can guess,” she says, kind of dry.  “Now you want to rush out and tell all the kids in the pool about it, don’t you?”

Tell anybody?  In protest I go, “I don’t know any kids around here.”

“How long are you supposed to stay here?”

“I don’t know.  Aunt Bertha’s got a two bedroom apartment.  Mama can’t find one.”

“Then you might be here all summer.”

“Yeah!”  I stand up and grin at her in the mirror.  She grins back and throws a kiss at me.

Watching her putting on makeup, I think of something that could be a problem.  “If I’m not too young …”

“For what?”

“For you.”

She laughs.  “Don’t worry about that, Ted.  Age is not the only criterion of maturity.  You’ve got a man-sized cock that stays up, you smell sweet and you’re light as a feather on top of me.  Who could ask for more than that?”

“You … like me a little?”

“Oh, yes!  And I’m at that dangerous age.”

I remember hearing Mom say something about a dangerous age, but I thought she meant it for men.  This sounded like something I ought to know.  When is it for women?

“How old are you, Claire?”

“You really shouldn’t ask a woman that, Ted — not when she’s older.”  She grins and shrugs.  “I’m 37: old enough to know better but not to do better.  That’s the dangerous age.”

“Dangerous how?”

“It’s when young guys feel too good.”

She laughs at my expression and brushes past me into the bedroom, where she starts taking underclothes out of a drawer.  “Your bikini’s in the kitchen.”

She follows me out to the kitchen, now in panties and bra, and finds her shorts and halter in the bathroom.  “You want more to eat?”

“To eat?”  I look at her panties.

She sniffs.  “I meant lunch.  Did you get enough?”


“All right.  Take a towel and go swim in the pool till your aunt comes home.”

“You … you don’t want me to help paint the bedroom?”

She grins faintly.  “Not today.  Maybe tomorrow.”

“Couldn’t I wait here with you?”

She heaves a sigh.  “I wish you could.  Fortunately, the minute I came I remembered a previous appointment that I can’t break.”

I edge toward the door but stop.  “Claire, can I … come up and see you again?”

She grins.  “I don’t know how I could stop you.”

“You don’t?”  I draw myself up.  “If you go, ‘Get lost,’ I will.”

Now she smiles and shakes her head.  “You’re a noble lad, Teddy.  But that’s the last thing I could say.  Your bedroom is next to Bertha’s foyer, isn’t it?”

I nod.

“If you should take a little stroll tonight, my door’ll be unlocked.  Just be sure her door doesn’t lock behind you.”

“Oh.  Okay!”  I give her a big smile and take the down staircase three steps at the time.

The hopscotch squares are still on the sidewalk along with the two little girls.  Christ, it’s been two hours!  Then I realize I don’t hear anything from the pool.  It’s empty except for some hunk using a skimmer.

“Hiya, hottie,” goes the black-haired one, smiling at me.  The blonde smiles too.  Behind me I hear Claire slam out the front door.

I’m like, “Where is everybody?”

Black hair says to the blonde, “Told you he didn’t know.”

I’m like, “Didn’t know what?”

“Pool’s closed on Wednesdays.”


“For maintenance.”

“Christ!  All day?”

“Until six.”

“Shit!”  I digest this, thinking that Aunt Bertha must’ve forgot.  “Where does everybody go?”

She shrugged.  “Mostly they watch TV.”

“Or play hopscotch?”

“My TV’s busted and Haley don’t got one.”

“You’re Haley?” I go at the blonde, who nods.

Black hair’s like, “And I’m Brett.”


“With two Ts it’s a girl’s name.  Who’re you?”


“You live in seven?”

“Yeah.  And I have a TV.  Wanta come in and watch it?”

Blonde Haley’s eyes light up.  But black haired Brett shakes her head.  “Who’s in there?”

“Nobody.  My aunt won’t be back anytime soon.”

“When did she leave?”

“Right after you saw her.”

“Oh, yeah?  How about the Phelps bitch?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s thick with your aunt.”

“She just went out.  Why call her a bitch?”

Brett grins.  “It’s what my brother calls her.”

My hackles rise.  “What’s he got against her?”

“Not enough any more.”  Both girls giggle.

I step off the porch.  They’ve drifted close to me.  I don’t really want to be seen fooling with them, but I’m interested in this bitch business.

“How old’s your brother?”

“He’s 16, 15 last year.”

I go, “Duh!”

“I mean he was 15 when he got his turn with the Phelps bitch.”

“What turn?”

Blonde Haley’s nose wrinkles.  “Ted smells the same way.”

“I thought I noticed it.”  Brett leans closer and sniffs.  Her eyes narrow but she shakes her head.  “Couldn’t be.  He’s not old enough.”

Haley insists, “It’s the same stink.”

I go, “What’re you two talking about?”

Haley’s like, “You smell just like Marv did sometimes.”


“My brother,” goes Brett.  “That’s how he smelled every time he got home from Phelps.”

“’Less he took a dip in the pool,” says Haley.

Brett grins at me.  “She likes to sit in his lap.”

I blink.  “Claire?”

“You call her Claire too?  I mean Haley in Marv’s lap.  She likes him.”

The blonde blushes and looks away.

I sit down on the edge of the porch.  “You mean … your brother was … was …”

“Fucking Phelps,” goes Brett, dark eyes fixed on mine.  “Till he found out all his friends were doing her too.”

“His … friends?”  I feel kind of funny.

“Yeah.  The ones in high school.”

I’m looking up into their faces.  Brett grins a little but not Haley.  I grasp at a straw and take a deep breath.  “You’re kidding, of course.  But it’s not funny.”

Brett nods fiercely.  “No, I ain’t.  You’re half-right: it’s not funny.  Why does she have to get all the boys?”

I jump up and jerk open the screen door.  The two girls are right behind me.  I grit my teeth.  “Where’re you two going?”

Brett’s eyebrows rise.  “To watch TV, like you said.”

I almost tell them to get lost.  But they are female.  I lead them into Aunt Bertha’s den.  “There’s the remote.”

“Ain’t you gonna watch too?” asks Haley.

“Right now I mean to take a shower.”

You guessed it.  I’m scrubbing my dick like mad when the shower curtain swishes aside and two naked little girls step into the tub with me.

Let’s hear it for the kids nowadays!