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MARIE4

     If you read MARIE1, MARIE2 &/or MARIE3, then you know what to
expect. This is based on interviews from a woman recounting almost
a quarter-century of sexual experiences and she's not an old woman;
you figure it out. If such things offend you for any reason, this
is a good time to erase the file.
     Some names and a few locations have been changed and some
editing has been done for the sake of smoothness. Other than that,
this is what she had to say, based on her recollections and the
extensive and detailed diaries she's been keeping for many years.

CHAPTER FOUR

     Jeanne and I got to be regulars at that, sneaking into bed
together whenever we got the chance -- and that was every few days,
at least, since who would suspect a ten-year-old girl and her
eleven-year-old sister -- even if the eleven-year-old was
developing the kind of figure I was?
     [Oh, yeah, well strange as it sounds, they didn't seem to be
growing that fast right then, as if there was this first spurt and
then it slowed down a more normal pace; the major difference was
that my "normal pace" had gotten a head start. I was kind of glad,
in a way. I mean, they had stabilized at too big for a training
bra, but I still wasn't able to wear even a 32-inch bra, the
smallest they sold in the stores. I only measured twenty-five
inches at the bust.]
      The problem was, I wasn't growing taller or wider, either. I
was only about four-foot-five and my waist was still nineteen
inches and my hips were just about twenty-four inches, so I still
looked surprisingly busty. If it hadn't been for Dana Connolly --
     Dana and I had gotten to be pretty close friends, mostly
because she and I the were two girls always getting hit on by high
school kids. Dana was tall for her age -- about five-foot-three or
-four -- and she had a real figure, all nice, sleek curves. She had
these real long legs and lots of blonde hair. Dana wasn't pretty,
but she was attractive and I could see the boys found her sexy and
I knew why: She had a way of walking and moving .... Mmmm. She was
sexy and she knew it and she flaunted it. And she was adventurous.
She'd try just about anything. With anyone. She told me things --
     [No. I promised I'd never tell and I haven't and I won't. even
though she betrayed me two years later. We haven't spoken since.
But a promise is a promise.]
     Where was I -- ?
     Right.  Well, if it hadn't been for her, I probably would have
gotten all the wrong kinds of attention for all the wrong reason.
As it was, when we hung out together, boys who came on to me got
lured away by Dana -- which was just fine, as she liked any
attention from boys, and I was sort of picky.
     [No, I hadn't lost interest -- quite the contrary, my dear! --
but the kind of high school boys who come on to a sixth-grader were
not the kind I wanted to deal with. Dana seemed able to handle
them -- and did she enjoy handling them!]
     It was fine with me.
     The first half of my seventh-grade year was pretty uneventful.
Oh, sure, I came on to a couple of eighth grade boys and a freshman
at Rossford High -- I was successful with all but one, who got
scared and ran away -- but it was always furtive and sneaking and
there was never time to really enjoy it. Besides, mostly they just
seemed interested in grabbing my tits and poking me with their
fingers. One of the eighth graders was ready and willing to fuck
me, but every time he got his cock near me, he came. This happened
over and over again, to our eternal frustration. It was almost
funny -- and it was amazing, too.
     One night, I got him alone in the back of one of the school
busses parked in the school lot. We had time and I was determined.
He always amazed me when he came so fast, because there was a lot
of it. He had really big balls and even after he came, he got hard
again.
     This time, I figured, I would get him off a couple of times
and then get him inside me. It was November and it had been almost
a month since I'd had a hard dick in me. My baby sister's lovely
tongue and fingers notwithstanding, there was no substitute for the
real thing.
     We were having a little bit of Indian summer, so the Saturday
night in Thanksgiving weekend, we sneaked into the lot and into one
of the buses in the back. I stripped us both to the waist -- from
the ankles -- and went to work. Sure as a clock, as soon as he got
between my legs and I grabbed his dick, he came all over the place.
I mean, on the bus seat, on my legs, on my cunt, my belly --
everywhere. And stayed hard. Mostly.
     Fine, I thought, and proceeded with my plan. I stroked him a
little, my hand all slippery with his cum, and when he was really
hard again, lined up his cock with my pussy. And he came again --
just like before. Gobs everywhere.
     And stayed mostly hard.
     I told him, No problem; we're gong to lick this thing. And
then I did just what I said and got down and started licking him.
He got stiff as steel and came in my mouth. I thought I'd drown.
     Surely, I thought, after cumming that much three times in
twenty minutes, this time he'll last longer. I stroked him a little
and had him lay on the seat. I managed to squat over him and this
time the tip of his dick touched my cunt. Success! I thought.
     Wrong-o. He spurted again and left a lake of it dripping on
his belly and pooling there.
     This went on for about an hour and a half and all together, he
came on, around and over me about six times.
     On the seventh try, he got the head of his cock into my pussy
and started cumming immediately. I was on the back seat of the bus
with my legs around his waist; he was standing on the floor. As
soon as I felt his dick enter me, I pulled him in the rest of the
way. If I'd thought he'd cum the first six times, I hadn't seen
anything. I think he must've cum in me for a full minute or more.
The only reason he stopped was he passed out and collapsed. By
then, the jism had filled my cunt and backed up and dripped out
around his prick.
     His cock was still hard.
     I considered squatting over him and taking advantage of it,
but by then I was tired and stiff and hardly even horny any more. I
woke him up and cleaned him up and he told me how he loved me and
how great it was and we left.
     Christmas and winter came and went. Dad got drunk a lot that
year, worrying about money, I guess, and he got mean when he got
drunk. Jeanne and I conspired to avoid him and were largely
successful.
     So then it was spring of 1966 and that was the first time I
seduced an older man. It wa over spring break -- we called it
Easter Vacation at St. Cornelius.
     I'd gone into Genoa to stay at Uncle Van's house for a few
days. His daughter, Charlene, was a lot like me in some ways.
Charlene was a little more than a year older, but she was all pudgy
and baby fat, just starting to melt away. But was she ever boy-
crazy! Charlene made even Dana seem tame. She'd do anything to get
boys around her and keep them near here. She'd told me how she once
pulled a train --
     [Gang-bang. When a girl fucks several guys in succession,
that's pulling a train.]
     She was almost thirteen. She'd done it when she was twelve,
with a bunch of her brother's friends.
     Her brother, Tod, was a real asshole. He was fifteen then. A
real blockhead. About six foot two, maybe two hundred and twenty
pounds -- enormous for his age. But he didn't have a brain in his
head -- and no sense of right and wrong, either. If he wanted
something, he bullied his way around till he got it. He'd started
fucking Charlene when she was nine. "Raping her" is more like it.
If Charlene was twisted, Tod was why. Sometimes I wonder if she
didn't provoke .... No. I don't think any nine-year-old girl knows
enough to do that. And I think Charlene may have been a little off,
y'know?
     Anyhow, Charlene and I got along pretty good and besides, they
had this terrific in-ground pool and it was shaping up to be a hot
summer, judging by spring, and they had a finished basement with a
pool table and stuff and her folks were away a lot. Uncle Van drove
on the racing circuit, and they were always off somewhere or other.
And I just wanted to get the hell out of Toledo for a while.
     It was nice. We sat up and watched scary movies from the
Detroit stations and we exchanged notes and secrets about
mysterious doings with boys and --
     [No. I didn't find her appealing in that way and she didn't
care for women that way.]
     They lived in this development off State Route 51 and their
neighbor was this guy named Roger something-or-other.
     [Did you know that "roger" is now another word for "fuck"? No
kidding. In upper-class circles now they talk about men rogering
women. Everyone knows what it means, so why don't they just say --
Oh, never mind.]
     Anyhow. Roger's wife had just left him, oh, not six months
before and the guy was a wreck. Charlene told me he was all messed
up -- couldn't sleep or eat or anything.
     Roger was about twenty-seven and about six foot tall and had
this great body that I saw sometimes when he was working in his
yard. And he was nice looking. Not a fox, like my phantom step-
brother; just nice.  But there was something about him that had me
all achy and twisty-stomachy and wet and itchy inside just to look
at him. Charlene told me his lights were on all night and he always
looked really tired and sometimes you had to call his name two or
three times before he noticed you. It was like he was still in
shock from his wife leaving him. Charlene didn't know why she'd
left, but said she was a real slut -- worse: a cheat.
     I knew he was a long haul trucker and when he was working,
he'd be away a week at a time. I knew he was quite an amateur
gardener. And Charlene had told me he sometimes let Uncle Van use
his basement workshop, because his hobbies included cabinet-making.
     That was my key. I waited for the right moment. It came two
days later. Van and Aunt Irene were down in Kentucky for a race and
Tod was passed out -- as usual when his folks were away -- from too
much beer. Charlene had taken her bike to peddle over to Casper's
Corners, this country-road intersection about three miles away
where a lot of kids hung out.
     I waited till I heard the radio from his house and then went
over. It was about seventy degrees, but there was a breeze. I wore
a light windbreaker, real short cutoffs that had faded and shrunk
all soft to fit snug on my butt. Under the windbreaker I was
wearing a thin tanktop and nothing else. I rang the bell. He
answered, wearing a pair of jeans and a sport shirt. The jeans were
nicely filled.
     He didn't recognize me through the screen door for a moment,
then he smiled. "Hello. You're Marie, aren't you? What can I do for
you?"
     "Uncle Van said you know cabinet-making and I wanted to ask
you about it. Can I come in?"
     He held the door for me and asked if I'd like a Coke or some
juice, and I said water would be dandy. While he fetched it, I
looked around the living room.
     Roger's house was identical in layout to Van and Irene's, but
where my uncle's house was decorated to look like an Italian
director's idea of a swinging Playboy pad -- all shag rugs and red
drapes and such -- Roger's looked like one of those model rooms
they set up in furniture stores. And everything was spotlessly,
shining clean. There was a whole bookcase full of books. I looked
them over: Reader's Digest Condensed versions. Ycccch. But at least
he read books.
     He returned, water in hand. I unzipped my windbreaker about
halfway and thanked him.
     "I want to put a bookcase in my room -- not real big, just
about this high --" I held my hand even with my breasts. "-- and
about this wide --" I held my arms wide apart. This caused the
windbreaker to part and my breasts to heave up into sight within
the tanktop. "Do I need a lot of power tools for that or can I just
use a hand saw and hammer and nails?"
     "Easy. You don't even need a saw. The lumber yard will cut the
boards to the length you want for about a nickel a cut. Hammer and
nails and glue will be -- "
     "Glue? Like Elmer's?"
     "Better to use Carpenter's Glue." I nodded. "What color will
you paint it?"
     "I don't want to paint it. I like wood."
     He grinned. "Smart girl. You could stain it, you know. That
would give it a shade to go with your room and wouldn't hide the
grain."
     "I suppose, but Dad's always talking abut how easy it is to
mess up with stain."
     "Naw; you just have to know how to do it. I'm going to stain a
piece I just made; want to watch?"
     Well of course I did and I'd known -- from peeking through his
basement window -- that was what he was going to do, which was why
I'd asked the question I'd asked. Heheheh.
     His basement was as neat as his living room. Half of it was a
little recreation room with a pool table. Built-in couches lined
two walls. We went into his workshop and he showed me how he
stained furniture -- in this case, a natural penetrating stain on
the maple top of what would be a gorgeous credenza. And he was
right: It was easy and neat, not at all messy, if you knew what you
were doing, which I figured could be said about a lot of things.
     I thanked him and we stepped back into the rec room. I picked
up the cue ball and rolled it toward the neat triangle of balls
waiting at the other end of the table.
     "Do you play?"
     I shook my head. "Always wanted to learn how, but we don't
have one."
     "Van and Irene have one. I'm surprised Tod hasn't taught you."
     I laughed. "Tod's always trying to teach me something, but
it's not pool. He's always grabbing me and stuff."
     "Pretty girl like you will have to expect that and figure out
how to deal with it."
     "I wouldn't mind, so much," I said, "except Tod's so grabby
and such an -- " I shut my mouth.
     "An asshole?"
     I laughed. "Exactly."
     "Pool's rules are simple for the major games," he explained.
"It's getting good at it that's tough. Good at pool means
practice." He frowned. "Good at anything means practice." Then he
brightened. "Want me to teach you?"
     "You wouldn't mind -- "
     "Not at all." He selected a pair of sticks from the rack, and
showed me how to hold the stick and stroke. I kept messing up,
mostly because I didn't have much coordination , but sometimes on
purpose. Knowing what was coming.
     "Here," he said, moving around the table to stand behind me.
     "Hold on." I removed the windbreaker in the minimally
ventilated room. "It's wart down here." Now my tits wee exposed
against the tanktop, which was damp and starting to cling quite
nicely, thank you. he glanced at them, then away. The deep arm
openings went down so low that I knew he could see the sides of my
breasts. "Okay."
     He reached his arms around me and bent me forward a little to
reach the cue ball. I could sense him stiffly trying not to make
any body contact. I was having none of that, so I kept arching my
butt out until I felt his thigh against my behind. Then I shimmied
to the left and rubbed my butt on his crotch a little. He froze,
still as a rock -- and the lump in his jeans was just as hard.
     He stood straight and I straightened with him, dropping my
poolstick to the felt and taking his wrists in my hands. I led his
hands to my tits and placed them. He lightly cupped my breasts and
his thumbs moved back and forth across my stiff nipples through the
tee-shirt. My breathing was as shallow as his.
     "We shouldn't be doing this," he said quietly.
     "Why not?"
     "You're just a kid -- "
     I pulled his hands tighter against my breasts and stood on
tiptoes to rub my denim-clad ass into his crotch. "A kid?" I turned
within his arms. "I know what I'm doing. I like it. I want to do it
-- with you."
     I reached down to cup one hand against his balls. My hand was
filled. I unzipped his jeans and wiggled open the waist snap, then
pushed them down. He was, happily, naked underneath. His dick was
the longest I had ever seen at that point, about eight inches, and
quite thick. The head was throbbing against the underside of my
tits through the tee-shirt.
     I grabbed the thick shaft in both hands and lightly stroked.
He groaned and rested his hands lightly on my shoulders. I bent a
little at the waist and licked the thick head of his prick, then
opened my mouth and took it inside. By then I knew some things to
do with my tongue and lips and I did them. I sucked and tongued his
dick head and he groaned and warned me he was going to cum if I did
that. I made a loud, affirmative noise and sucked and jacked his
cock all the more urgently, squeezing it at the same time. It was
like squeezing a piece of thinly upholstered wood.
     He was true to his word, too -- he came. Oh, boy, did he come!
He arched backward and his dick swelled up inside my mouth so much
I don't think I could have removed it if I'd wanted to and then he
started shooting. I don't know how long it had been since his last
ejaculation, but the stuff just poured out of him in powerful
spurts that made me gurgle, no matter how fast I swallowed. He let
loose three or four of those long geysers and then began shooting
fast spurts -- splat - splat - splat -- like that.
     After about a half minute. the spurts slowed and stopped and
his dick started to shrivel some. I sucked the head as I pulled
back and was rewarded with a last shivering dribble of his cum and
a soft groan from him.
     He dropped to his knees in front of me and his face was even
with my tits. He pulled my tanktop over my head -- it was pretty
gooey with his overflowed cum, anyhow -- and started licking and
kissing my tits. He would take most of my tit in his mouth and suck
and slowly squeeze it out until just the nipple remained inside -
and then he'd fasten onto my nipple. He'd suck like mad and whip
the tip of his tongue back and forth over it so fast that I
literally had an orgasm with each tit, just as if my nipples were
little clitorises.
     All the time he was doing that, he was unfastening my shorts
and pushing them down. When they fell to the floor, leaving me
naked, he ran his hands up over the backs of my legs and clamped a
hand over each cheek of my ass. My butt was so small and tight he
could cover it with both hands. Two fingertips reached past my
asshole and began to rub the thoroughly dripping lips of my swollen
little snatch. I came again when he slipped a fingertip into the
entrance of my cunt.
     Suddenly, he reached behind himself and pulled one of the
cushions of the banquet. He whipped the cushion above my head and
banged it down onto the pool table behind me. Then he stood,
lifting me with him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt the
underside of his reinvigorating cock against my pussy. He lay me on
the cushion on the pool table and disengaged my leg grip, then
lifted my ankles high, bent at the waist and began feasting.
     He licked my thighs and I came. He licked my cunt and I came.
He licked and sucked my clitoris and I came. Soon I was just
cumming, again and again. He took my ankles in his hands and pulled
them wide and tried to stick his tongue inside my pussy. I was so
small -- and even tighter from the constant orgasms -- that he
couldn't even get the tip into me. But I was glad he tried, because
it just made me keep cumming.
     Then he pushed my legs back till my knees were near my
shoulders. I was completely opened to his attentions and my hips
were aimed up at the ceiling. He moved his face back farther
and began licking the inner slopes of my ass cheeks. I shrieked
with surprise and pleasure and then with even more pleasure when he
began swiping his tongue back and forth over my asshole. When he
tried to get the tip of his tongue into my ass, there was no way it
was going to penetrate -- but I had fun with his trying! I'd had no
idea anything could feel so good back there and I came again.
     He turned me and the cushion on the pool table. Instead of my
legs hanging over the edge, now I was laying along one side. He
stood beside he table, next to my head, facing my feet. My heels
were on the felt and my legs were bent and apart. He bent forward,
put his face between my legs and started licking me again and I
started cumming again. All I could feel was pleasure, endless
pleasure.
     At some point, he got one hand under my butt and beyond and
then he bent his wrist and forced one long, thick finger up my
cunt. My pussy grabbed it and tried to get cum from the finger and
I came some more. Then he wedged a second finger in with it,
stretching my little twat, and all the time kept licking me and
sucking my clittie. The juices were running down into the crack of
my flexing ass.
     Then he pushed his pinky into my asshole.
     I yelped -- it hurt! But I was cumming, too, and couldn't stop
cumming and he just kept working the finger into the narrow hole,
forcing it deeper and deeper until it was all the way in.
     He just held it there without moving it, but that didn't
matter: I was thoroughly stuffed, front and back, and the fingers
stretching my cunt were wriggling. I could feel them pressing
against the finger in my ass and vice versa -- and all the time he
was licking and sucking my clit.
     I started cumming again and again I couldn't stop. Sometime in
there, he started moving all three fingers in and out of me,
separately. My narrow little butt-hole had loosened just a little
and it still wasn't comfortable, but it sure as hell didn't hurt! I
wasn't sure if the orgasms were starting with my clittie, in my
cunt or even -- and I couldn't believe this -- in my ass. All I
knew was I was cumming and cumming and didn't want it to stop.
     But stop it did -- when he withdrew his fingers and his mouth.
The last thing he did was pull his pinky out of my ass, moving it
in little circles as he withdrew it. It was like he was trying to
widen the aperture. I don't think it worked, but at least it didn't
hurt. Didn't feel half bad, actually.
     He stood straight beside the table and turned the cushion and
me to our original position, with my ass perched at the edge.
Again, he took my ankles in his hands and pulled my legs open, but
this time he rested my calves on his shoulders. He stepped forward
and his big, hard cock throbbed against my belly. His balls were
pressed against my cunny and the head of his dick was almost on my
belly button.
     He rocked back and forth,. The underside of his fat prick
rubbed over my hairless pussy and massaged my swollen, protruding
clit. It was making me crazy.
     Finally he backed up and took his dick in one hand. He put the
knob against my cunt.
     "Spread your little wings for me, baby," he said.
     I reached down between us and held my pussy lips wide. He
rubbed and rotated the head of his dick in the oily cup formed by
my opened pussy and then started pressing forward.
     If I'd thought his cock felt big in my mouth, that was
nothing; it was positively massive now. I felt like someone was
slowly driving the fat end of a baseball bat into my little pussy.
While it wasn't comfortable, it didn't hurt, either, but it was
only exciting in an abstract way, not in real physical pleasure.
     He pressed it in and my cunt lips started to fold in with his
dick. He pulled back and moved some of the lubrication around and
then pushed again. This time the whole glans made it inside. I felt
like it was possessing me from the inside. Again, my cunt lips
started getting caught and again he withdrew to spread the
lubrication.
     He did this three or four times, each time getting more and
more into me and then the head was pressed through the inner
constriction and I could feel it stretching the walls of my cunt.
     Now it did feel good. Oh, boy, did it feel good!
     "Unnnnnnh -- oh, give me more, give me mooooore," I moaned. He
moved back and forth a little. Bit by bit, he was getting more of
his fat, hard grownup prick into my fledgling cunt. It wasn't
comfortable yet, but the arousal wasn't abstract now, either. I
could almost feel it pushing my insides around and that was so
strange it almost made me cum by itself.
     Then the end of his cock was banging into something deep
inside me and that hurt. I let out a little yelp and he stopped and
withdrew a bit.
     "Is--is it all in?"
     He shook his head. "No, baby, not all in."
     I couldn't believe him. I felt like it was reaching into my
belly. I put my hand back down there and felt a good inch of his
dick remaining outside. "I wanna see it," I said.
     He took my forearms in his hands and pulled me slightly
upright so I could look down and see. An inch of his dick was
uninserted. My pussy lips were stretched thin as rubber bands about
it and my clitoris was pressed down almost against the back of his
shaft by the stretching.
     He let me lay back and my feet fell from his shoulders and
dangled limply to either side of his hips, from the knees down
hanging off the pool table. I put one hand down there and pressed
my clittie into the top of his shaft and then I started cumming
again.
     "Awww, fuck me, Roger, fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckme..."
     Sound like I was delirious? It should, because I was.
     He moved in and out of me carefully at first, but every time
he moved, his cock shaft massaged my clitoris and every time the
little nubbin was touched I came; I was cumming every time he
moved, every time my hips twitched, every time we breathed. And
added to it was this big, thick dick moving deep inside me, faster
and faster. I kept cumming even when he got a hand under my butt
and slid his long middle finger up my ass.
     Now I was doubly filled, the finger in my ass compressing my
little cunt even more around his cock. And I was cumming twice as
hard. All the orgasms started to run together into one continuous
spasm and then I passed out for a little bit. I know that's what
happened because I remember everything drifting away when I felt
his fat cock swell even more and then it was jerking, spewing hot
wetness far, far inside me. He pressed one hand down over my
abdomen, just above the plump little mound of my cunt, and
everything went golden.
     I wasn't out for long, but when I became conscious again, his
finger was already out of my ass and he had most of his cock out of
my cunt. His dick was shriveling and when he pulled the plum-sized
head of it out with audible plopping noise, a regular stream of goo
-- a mixture of his juices and mine -- poured out and dripped on
the table and floor.
     If his dick was getting limp, all it was doing was catching up
with me. None of my muscles would work. I was utterly drained and
tingling as if my skin was cumming. He bent and kissed me four
times, gently, almost chastely -- on the forehead, on the lips,
high on my belly and then, right on my cunt, pressing his lips into
the flood of his sperm and my juices. Then he stood, scooped me in
his arms and lay me down on one of the cushioned banquettes. He
went for a towel. By the time he returned, I was on my belly; my
butt wasn't that comfortable. Big surprise.
     He sat on the edge of the cushion next to me. He had his jeans
on again and a fresh tee-shirt. He covered me with the towel and
lightly stroked my back through it. That made me feel terrific,
like what we'd done was special instead of something you sneak to
do -- like it was a good, being-together thing.
     "How do you feel?"
     "My butt's sore," I said and giggled a little. He rested his
hand lightly on one cheek. "But otherwise --- " I closed my eyes a
hummed deep in my throat. "I feel wonderful. Just wonderful. You?"
     "The same. I still can't believe it. You're so little and
young and -- But I feel good, baby, really good. And I feel like
someone can like me again."
     I almost understood that at the time -- I understand it
completely now, having been through a divorce -- but I knew I'd
done something good as well as something that was incredibly
pleasurable.
     He bent over and kissed me lightly and wetly on the nape of
the neck. I shivered. "Wanna do it again?"
     He laughed against my damp flesh. "I'd love to. The spirit is
willing but the flesh is weak."
     I groped till I found the lump his limp dick through his
jeans. Even soft, it was nearly as big as Marty's was when it was
hard. "Oh, I don't know," I said. "A little encouragement ... "
     He laughed. "We've been down here more than an hour."
     Which meant my cousin would be coming back soon. "Then I
suppose I better get going. Can I rinse off somewhere?"
     "Shower's at the top of the stairs on the second floor, first
door on the right."
     I rolled over and the towel fell. He kissed each of my nipples
and helped me stand. I knew I should hurry, but I felt all
lethargic and lazy, like a sated kitten, and walked naked to the
stairs to the first floor. I hurried a little more getting up to
the second floor. I liked the feel of the juices dribbling from
between my again-tight cunt lips onto my thighs, the way the stuff
lubricated my thighs when they touched as I walked.
     All of the accessories in the bedroom were hand-made of
redwood; I guessed he'd built it all. It was quite different for a
bathroom of the time and nice in a way. I took a hot, fast shower,
scrubbing vigorously. When I stepped out of the shower, a little TV
tray table awaited me in the hallway. On it were my shorts, a fresh
tee-shirt that was almost the right size, my windbreaker -- and a
tall tumbler of pop with ice in it. I could have cried, it was so
considerate! No one had ever treated me like I was as special --
even more special -- after fucking. Before fucking, sure; but not
after fucking. That was so terrific...
     On the way back down, I noticed on the stairway wall the
black-and-white pictures that I hadn't noticed on the way up: a
pretty brunette with great legs and a terrific figure and a pretty
face. Roger had his arm around her waist in one picture.
     I ran over to him before he could get out of his reading chair
and threw my arms around his neck and gave him a big hug and a
kiss. "You are so sweet," I said.
     "Hey, baby, I enjoyed it, too."
     "Not just that," I said. "Bringing my things and the pop and--
well, that was so thoughtful."
     He shrugged as if it was nothing more than what was correct.
His arm slid around me and he held me close. He dropped his hand to
my rear and caressed my butt. "Your butt is like a peach," he
whispered, "So hard and ripe and smooth -- I'd love to fuck you
there."
     I gave him a playful slap on the arm. "Forget it! I could
barely handle you in the right place!"
     "Maybe in a few years -- "
     "Say a hundred or so -- "
     We both chuckled, then he sighed. "Too bad. I do like doing
that. A lot."
     I put my hand on the big bulge in his jeans. "With something
this big ... Is that why your wife left you? It hurt too much?"
     He looked astonished. "She loved it. Hell, she introduced me
to it!" He shook his head. "Where'd you get the idea she left me?"
     I blinked. "She didn't leave you?"
     "No."
     "That's what Charlene said -- "
     "Oh." His expression changed. "I threw her out. I told her if
she contested my divorce application I'd have her jailed."
     "Jailed? For what?"
     He looked rueful. "For doing what I was doing today -- messing
with a minor."
     I was bewildered and said so.
     "It's not all her fault," he said. "I was on the road too
much, too eager to make a lot of money, I guess. Anyhow, I came
back about a day early from a 'Frisco run and found her in bed --
with Tod."
     "My cousin?"
     He nodded.
     "Why would a pretty lady like her who was married to a guy
like you want to do it with an asshole like Tod?"
     He held his hands up about a foot apart. "Tod's got a whanger
so big, he makes me look like a little boy. Anyhow, I came home,
heard noises, got my gun, came up, and found her on her hands and
knees with Tod packing her ass. I put the gun to his head and he
got instant impotence. Then I threw her out."
     "Was she hurt?"
     "Sure she -- Oh, I see what you mean. No, Brenda always liked
them big -- the bigger the better."
     I shook my head slowly. "Charlene said some bad things about
her, but hinted that she'd run away with someone."
     "Well, who likes to hear bad stuff about a brother?"
     "Charlene does. I mean, Tod raped her when she was nine."
     He looked horrified. "No wonder she's a little ... odd. He
stuck that thing in her when she was nine?" He whistled. "Poor
kid."
     "I better get going." I stood. "I want to do this again."
     He shook his head. "Not a good idea."
     "But you liked it -- "
     "Maybe too much. I could get addicted to little girls and
there are very, very few as mature and sensible and headstrong as
you are, Marie."
     "I'm out here a lot, you know."
     He stood and put his arm around my shoulders, leading me to
the door. "We'll see -- but no promises ... even though I want to
at least as much as you do."
     I put my hand on the hard bar of flesh at the crotch of his
jeans and squeezed and giggled. "I know you do."
     It took maybe thirty seconds to scamper next door, but in that
time I had decided there would be no more little boys for me. If
this was what it was like to fuck a real man, I wanted nothing
less.
     If I'd known then what I know now, I would have phrased my
resolution this way: I'm gonna make Lolita look like a nun.

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