Exile
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 

 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I 
kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Wanderings_, which can be found on my asstr.org site:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/wander/index.html

 


Chapter Four - Sister, Brother (Ff Mf Mb bf teen oral anal drugs)



That Saturday, there were no classes.  Instead, the shelter's residence 
would be put on cleaning detail, mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, 
doing laundry, even helping Sister Katherine in the kitchen.  I had 
spent the morning in the laundry room, loading the boys' smelly socks 
and crusty shorts into the washing machine and was finishing lunch when 
I spotted Sister Katherine coming out of the kitchen.  I needed a needle 
and thread so I could take in the waistband of those skirts Father Ken 
had found for me.

Sister Katherine filled in for Sister Bernice on weekends, and was 
physically her polar opposite, slender where Sister Bernice was broad 
and angular where the other was curvy.  She had an opposite temperament 
as well, being somewhat more distant and reserved than her more 
affectionate counterpart.  I bussed my lunch tray and went over to where 
she was dipping a tea bag into a cup of hot water.

"Sister?  May I ask a favor?"

"Certainly, Anne," she said, not looking up.  I told her about the 
clothes I'd received and my need to alter them so they'd fit.  She 
thoughtfully blew the steam from her cup, listening to my request.

"Would a sewing machine do?" she asked.  "Do you know how to use one?"

"Yes, that would be great," I said.  I waited while she finished her 
tea, after which she led me down to the basement and into a locked 
storage room next to the classrooms.  There was a huge pile of clothes, 
the donation pile I guessed, along with a collection of old furniture, 
mattresses, and rolled-up carpets.  Sitting in a corner of this 
collection of junk was an antique sewing machine, treadle powered like 
the one we had in the house in Maine.

I sat down behind it, checking that it was threaded and that the treadle 
actually worked.  I picked a random piece of clothing off of the pile, a 
stained and torn t-shirt, and began doing a running stitch along the 
edge.  There was that old familiar feeling as my thighs pressed together 
when I worked the treadle, and I had to stop lest I begin to get too 
aroused in front of Sister Katherine.

"Ah, I see you've used one of these before," she said.

"We used to have one at our house.  I liked making dresses and stuff 
with it," I said.

"This is Sister Bernice's, so be careful with it," Sister Katherine 
said.

"I will.  I promise."  She gave me a rare smile and left the storage 
room.  I started another load of laundry and went to fetch the clothes I 
needed to alter.  Taking in the waists took just a few minutes.  I was 
trying on one of the skirts, a long peasant-style number that went down 
to my ankles, when I noticed a familiar looking bra strap sticking out 
of the pile of donated clothes.  I dug around through it, coming up with 
just about all of the things I'd packed when I left Maine, all except a 
t-shirt and a pair of panties.  I wrapped my old clothes in the two 
skirts I'd altered and was just about to leave when the storage room 
door opened.  It was Sister Katherine, and she was holding her own 
little bundle of clothes.

"Excuse me, Anne?  I was wondering..." she said.  I thought I was about 
to be busted for snatching my clothes back from the pile, but then I 
realized that she wanted me to mend some of her things.  I took the 
bundle from her and examined what she'd brought: a bra with a busted 
strap, a couple of old pairs of panties with broken elastic, a blouse 
with a torn pocket.  I smiled at her and sat down at the sewing machine, 
starting with the bra, reattaching the strap in no time at all.

"Sister Katherine?"

"Yes, Anne?"  She'd been watching me like a hawk as I handled her 
underwear.

"I'm not sure I can mend these panties," I said.  "The elastic is too 
worn.  They're too old."  They were white cotton briefs, thin and 
frayed.

"Oh, okay.  Just do the best you can."

"You really should get new ones," I said.  I did the best I could, 
mending a few of the larger holes and trying to fix the legband.  The 
last item was a starched white blouse whose breast pocket had detached 
from the bodice.  I sewed it back on, carefully trying to keep my 
stitches straight and unobtrusive.

"You do that so well," Sister Katherine said, leaning over and watching 
me work the old sewing machine.

"Thank you," I said, removing the blouse from the machine and checking 
the stitch.  I handed the blouse to Sister Katherine.

"Is there anything else you need done?" I asked.

"Well...no, nothing."

"Please, tell me.  I'd be happy to do more."

"Well, it's this dress," she said, turning and lifting her arm.  The 
seam was split, just a couple of inches.  "I tore it reaching for 
something on top of the fridge."

"I can fix that easily.  Turn around so I can unzip you."

"Well..."  She hesitated before turning around, and after I undid the 
zipper she was slow to shrug her simple grey dress off of her shoulders.  
Sister Katherine stepped out of her dress and handed the garment to me.  
She wore a white full slip with just the barest hint of lace trim around 
the neckline.  As I separated the seam from the lining, she stood next 
to me and watched intently.

I had just finished threading the machine with some grey thread when I 
felt Sister Katherine start to gently stroke my hair.

"That feels good," I said.  She'd frozen for a moment when I started to 
speak, but then she resumed, leaning just a bit closer to where I was 
seated.  I began mending the seam, trying hard to concentrate on the 
task.  Sister Katherine had such a gentle caress.  I missed the touch of 
a woman, even such a motherly gesture.  When I had finished sewing, 
instead of handing back the dress, I leaned my head on her hip, pressing 
my cheek against the fabric of her slip, closing my eyes and savoring 
the feeling of her fingers running through my hair.

I looked up at her, wondering if she was going to kiss me.  Her eyes 
were closed tight and her mouth was slightly open, a look that was much 
more arousing than any sensation I'd had working the sewing machine's 
treadle.  I stood up and held her around her waist, standing on my toes 
to bring my lips to hers.  She opened her eyes and looked startled for a 
moment, and then her expression softened, as did her lips, parting to 
invite my tongue.  We stood there kissing for what seemed like an hour, 
our hands roaming over each other.

"Come," I said, leading her over to the big pile of clothes that 
dominated the room, lying down on it and pulling her with me.  We 
embraced on top of the heap and resumed our kissing.  For a nun, she was 
an awfully good kisser, and I wondered what she was like when she was my 
age, maybe twenty or so years earlier.

"No, no, let's just kiss," she said when I began to pull the hem of her 
slip up her pale thigh.  I stopped and pulled her hem back down, 
smoothing it against her skin.

"Kissing's good," I whispered.  Sister Katherine smiled and we locked 
lips again.  My hands roamed over her slim body, but not below the 
waist.

"What's that?" she asked, breaking off our kiss and bolting upright.  
There was someone in the hallway outside, dragging something heavy down 
the stairs.  Sister Katherine dashed for her dress, which was still 
draped over the sewing machine.  She dressed quickly and was just about 
to leave when I grabbed her hand.

"Will you come to my room tonight?" I asked her.  "I mean, just to kiss 
and stuff."  Sister Katherine hesitated before nodding.  She gave me a 
quick peck on the lips and quickly left.

I rummaged through the pile for a few minutes, but I didn't find 
anything even remotely wearable.  It didn't help that it consisted 
almost entirely of boys' clothes.  I tucked my bundle of clothes under 
my arm, happy that I'd found most of my old stuff, and left the storage 
room to finish doing laundry.  In the hall, one of the boys had an old 
metal bucket full of soapy water and was mopping the floor.  He looked 
up as I passed by, and then went back to his mop.


                                  * * *


Saturday night at the shelter was pretty bizarre.  There was a large 
common room that wasn't used during the week, furnished with old couches 
and a second-hand television set.  Just about all of the boys went in 
there after dinner, to watch a hockey game and just hang out.  A few 
priests were seated among the boys, and I recognized a few of them from 
prior dinners.  Billy was there, and he gave me a smile, as was the 
olive-skinned boy from my class, who merely looked up when I took a seat 
on one of the couches.

I watched the hockey game for a while and began to get bored, so I got 
up and left the common room, hoping to head back to my bedroom to read 
my history textbook or maybe get a bit of writing done.  However, in the 
hall outside the common area, I ran into Father Ken.

"I've been looking for you," he said.  "Let's talk in my office."

We entered Father Ken's office and he went behind his desk, pulling a 
package wrapped in brown paper from a drawer, followed by his bottle of 
bourbon and two glasses.

"This is for you," he said, handing over the parcel.  "Open it."

I sat down across from his desk and opened the package.  Inside was a 
box containing something lacy and black.  Digging into the box, I pulled 
out a frilly black bra with lacy cutouts for the nipples, a matching 
pair of crotchless panties, a garter belt, and fishnet stockings.  I 
looked at Father Ken with a baffled expression; he'd taken my old 
clothes from me because they weren't "age appropriate" in his opinion, 
yet he'd bought me undies worthy of a hooker.

"Thank you," I said.  "They're lovely."

"You're welcome.  I'm glad you like them," he replied, pouring two 
drinks.

"Let me put them on," I said, disappearing into Father Ken's bed chamber 
and closing the door.  I took off my clothes and began to put on the 
things Father Ken had given me.  The bra was a bit big; he must have 
guessed at my size.  The straps were adjustable, though, and the panties 
and garter belt fit fine.  The garter tabs were made from cheap plastic 
and were hard to attach to the stockings, but held fast after a bit of 
fiddling.  I took a look at myself in the mirror that hung on the back 
of the bathroom door.  The crotchless panties and peek-a-boo bra left 
nothing to the imagination.  The outfit wasn't quite complete, either; 
it needed black pumps and a feather boa.

When I returned to Father Ken's office, he was still seated behind his 
desk in his high-backed leather office chair, sipping his drink.  His 
trousers were undone and he was idly stroking his cock as he waited for 
me to return.  I climbed up into his lap and threw my arms around him, 
rubbing my exposed pussy against his hard penis as I kissed him.

"Thank you.  I love it.  Do you like it?" I said.

"You look lovely," he said, squeezing my bottom through the lacy 
panties.  I ground my cleft against his stiff rod, feeling some of my 
wetness rub off on him.

"I have a favor to ask you, Father," I whispered.

"What it is, Anne?"

"I need to see a gynecologist.  I need some protection."

"I'm afraid I can't...I mean...church doctrine..."

"What if it wasn't for protection?  Just a check-up?"

"Well, I'll have to think about..."  His voice was thick with lust, his 
expression betraying his conflicted feelings.  I knew he wanted me, 
wanted to feel himself inside me, but the idea of using contraception 
was an obstacle in his mind.  I had no idea that the pursuit of pleasure 
could be so complex and decided to drop the subject.

Father Ken had no intention of continuing the discussion either.  He 
handed me the other drink and watched as I took a first sip of bourbon, 
then a second, then a gulp, nearly draining the glass.  We shared an 
alcohol-flavored kiss, and then Father Ken stood up, holding me by the 
bottom.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me into his 
bedroom and playfully tossed me on his bed.  I pinched my nipples and 
teased my clit as I watched him undress.  When he was naked, save for 
the small gold cross around his neck, he climbed into bed and stretched 
out on top of me, pressing his body against mine as we kissed.  His 
erection pressed against my mons, so I adjusted my hips and ground my 
clit against his hard, veiny shaft, and wrapped my legs around his 
waist.

"I wish you were in me," I whispered.  Father Ken just grunted and 
pressed his cock harder against my pussy, grinding his hardness along 
the length of my slit until it began to chafe.

"Ow," I complained.  "Do you have any lube?"  Father Ken looked down at 
his dick before getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom.  He 
returned with a bottle of hand lotion, which he handed to me.  I 
squeezed some on to my fingers and began to rub it into my burning cunny 
lips, adding another big dollop to my reddened clit.  Then I motioned 
for him to come closer and rubbed another blob of lotion on to his angry 
red cock until it glistened.

I tugged at Father Ken's slick penis, urging him to lay on top of me 
again.  This time our genitals slid smoothly against each other, like 
well-oiled parts of a machine.  Father Ken lay partially on top of me, 
supporting himself with his arms while I reached down to press his cock 
against my cleft and rocked my hips.  Every time he thrust his pelvis, 
his glistening shaft would saw across my clit.  It wasn't as good as 
fucking, but it felt pretty nice.

I looked up at Father Ken's face.  He was alternating between looking 
down at his cock, looking at me, and closing his eyes.  I wondered what 
he was thinking about when his eyes closed, who he was thinking about.  
He'd look so distant for a moment and then he'd snap back, looking down 
at our goodies grinding together and moving his hips a little faster.

As good as this felt, I still wished we were fucking.  Unlike the 
previous two nights, Father Ken was taking a while to come.  If he'd 
been inside me, I'd be in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm by now.  I 
really missed having Ramon on top of me, in me, feeling the muscles move 
beneath his back, knowing that all of that power was focused on the fat 
cock pumping in and out of my little pussy.

Just as I was thinking how long Father Ken was taking to come, I felt 
his hips start to stutter and his cock begin to throb against my clit.  
I looked down at his slick penis and saw a ropy jet of semen shoot from 
the tip and land on my belly.  The second spurt arced a bit lower, 
trailing on to the lacy waistband of my garter belt.  A third and fourth 
spurt shot forth and Father Ken gave one last thrust before rolling off 
of me and on to the bed.

"I'll get you a towel," Father Ken said, seeing the spermy mess on my 
belly.  These were the first words he'd spoke since carrying me in from 
the office.  He went to the bathroom and returned with two towels, 
handing one to me and using the other to wipe the hand lotion from his 
cock and balls.  I daubed his cooling semen from my skin and the lotion 
from my cunny, handing the towel back to Father Ken.

"Okay, we can do that," he said, laying down next to me on the narrow 
bed.

"Do what?"

"The doctor.  An exam.  I know someone.  I'll set it up."

"Thank you."

"Just don't tell me what it is," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"Don't tell me whether it's a pill or a diaphragm or an IUD.  I don't 
want to know.  Just take care of it."

"Okay.  I will.  Thanks."  I gave him a hug and kissed him and we held 
each other until he drifted off to sleep.  I watched him for a while 
before slipping out of bed and putting my clothes on over the lingerie 
he'd bought me.  I was wearing the long peasant skirt that day; you 
could hardly see the fishnets.  Before leaving, I poured myself another 
drink, washing down one of his Valiums with a sip of bourbon.

I returned to my room and decided to take a shower, still feeling sticky 
trails of sperm on my skin.  I thought about finishing myself off while 
I was showering, as all that greasy humping hadn't made me come.  But my 
legs felt rubbery from the booze and the pills and I thought I'd be 
better off doing it in bed.  I dried myself off and headed back to my 
room.

I was back in my room, naked and spread-eagled on my bed, two fingers in 
my pussy and one on my clit, on the verge of a blinding climax, when 
there was a soft knock on my door.  I stopped what I was doing, knowing 
that what I was doing was being accompanied by a bedspring symphony.  
Whoever was at the door knocked again.  I threw on a long t-shirt and 
went to answer it.

"Who is it?" I asked through the door.

"Katie," came the reply.  I had to think for a second before I connected 
the name to Sister Katherine.  I opened the door.

"Anne," she said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind 
her.  "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, no," I said.  She was wearing an old bathrobe and had taken off her 
wimple, revealing her short auburn hair.  I felt her drawing close, her 
hands finding my waist, her lips brushing mine.  We stood in the middle 
of my darkened room and kissed for a while.  After kissing Father Ken, 
her lips felt particularly soft and inviting.

I undid her robe and moved my hands inside, on to her warm skin.  
Beneath the robe she wore a plain pair of panties and a bra, every bit 
as austere as the undies I'd mended for her earlier.  I felt her hands 
begin to roam under my t-shirt, over my back and down to my bottom.  We 
kissed and groped each other until I broke off the embrace and led her 
to my bed.

I shrugged off my t-shirt as Sister Katherine reached behind her back to 
unclasp her bra.  I hadn't gotten a good look at her when we were in the 
storage room, as she'd been wearing a full slip, but now, wearing only 
her white cotton briefs, I could finally view her near-naked form.  She 
was skinnier than I thought, with slim, almost bony hips.  She wasn't 
much bigger than me on top, either, but she had big brown nipples that 
crinkled into an oval when I sucked and kissed them.  Every time I 
suckled her crinkly areolae, she'd moan softly and gently kiss the top 
of my head.

We lay side by side on the bed, our thighs intertwined, our breasts 
pressed together, exploring each other's body with our hands, and each 
other's lips with our tongues.  It seemed as if Katie would have been 
content to just kiss and fondle each other all night, and that it was up 
to me to make the first move towards something more.  I began to kiss 
her neck, her breasts again, the slight swell of her tummy, stopping at 
the high waistband of her underwear.

"No, no," she softly protested as I began to pull her panties down.

"I want to make you feel good," I whispered.

"It's wrong...it's so dirty."

"But it's so beautiful....you're so beautiful," I countered.  Her 
protests ended but for a quivering tension in her thighs as I pulled the 
panties over them, revealing her untrimmed bush.  I let her panties 
dangle from one of her ankles as I curled up between her legs, leaving a 
trail of kisses up her thighs.

"Oh, Annie," she sighed, as I parted her labia with my fingers and began 
to tease her clit with my tongue.  Her pearly nubbin swelled, and I was 
amazed at its size, nearly as big as the tip of my pinkie finger.  As it 
engorged with blood like a tiny penis, I began to circle it with my 
tongue, trying not to touch it directly, at least not yet.  I'd guide my 
tongue down the length of her slit and back up, bringing some of her own 
nectar up to her clit.

As I began to softly lash her clit with my tongue, Katie began to rock 
her hips and run her fingers through my hair, quietly moaning and 
mewling as I licked her secret pearl.  My hands reached beneath her 
bottom, cupping her cheeks as I drank from her sex, watching her breasts 
heave like boats on a stormy sea.

"Anne...no...Annie," she whispered, though she made no effort to stop 
me.  Quite the contrary: every time I'd suck her swollen clit she'd 
press her hips forward to meet my lips.  I began to alternate between 
swirling my tongue over her clitoris and sucking it with my lips, and 
soon I was rewarded with the feeling of her quivering thighs pressing 
against my shoulders.  She barely made a sound as she came, just a few 
quick breaths and a soft moan.  As her thighs began to relax, she gently 
pushed my head away from her sex.  She'd had enough.

"Anne," she whispered after I scooted back up on the bed and into her 
arms.  "That was wonderful."  As we kissed, I could taste a trace of 
blood on her lips.  She must have bitten them to keep from crying out as 
she came.

"I'm so happy you liked it," I said, kissing her again.  Our thighs were 
once again intertwined, and I felt her wet sex against my skin as I 
pressed against hers with my own moist cleft.  There was a knot in my 
stomach, a tension that had been building all day, since our furtive 
embrace in the storage room on top of the pile of clothes.  That I 
hadn't come when Father Ken was humping my pussy didn't help.  Sister 
Katherine had interrupted my attempt to take care of this myself, and 
now, after making her come, I sorely needed my own release.

I thought about something Del had said once, after a long week on the 
boat with his brother and father, something about his balls turning blue 
from not having sex.  I thought that was funny, but now I saw the truth 
in what he said, and I imagined the inside of my cunny turning blue, 
like how my lips were after swimming in the cold Atlantic in the fall, 
waiting for something warm to pink it up.  Something, anything, a 
tongue, a finger, a cock, even a purring vibrator.

"Would you...?" I asked Sister Katherine, gently guiding her hand from 
my waist down between my legs.

"I...I've never..." she whispered.

"Just use your fingers," I said.  It wouldn't take very long unless she 
was particularly clumsy, which I didn't think was the case.

"No, let me try..." she said, kissing my neck and breasts just as I had 
done for her.  She lingered over my belly, her soft lips pressing 
against my skin, and then she was between my thighs.  I felt her warm 
breath on my sex, my clit rising in anticipation.  Her wet tongue parted 
my nether lips, tasting my wetness, slowly edging towards my clitoris.  
I arched my back in anticipation and I wasn't disappointed when her 
tongue swirled over my pearl, sending an almost electric jolt through my 
body and out my limbs.

I grabbed two fistfuls of sheets, trying to resist the urge to press her 
head against my sex and make the friction more intense.  I could feel 
every taste bud on her tongue as it glided over my swollen nubbin, glad 
that she took the direct approach and didn't try to tease me.  It wasn't 
very long before I was shuddering on the bed, pinning her between my 
shaking thighs as my orgasm left me helpless, a trembling bag of bones 
on a lumpy mattress.  Katie seemed like she'd never stop, and I had to 
pull my sex from her mouth and tug on her shoulder before my clit became 
painfully sensitive.  I gently pulled her up to lie next to me, and we 
held each other and kissed, the taste of my nectar lingering on her 
lips.

"That was beautiful," I cooed in her ear.  "Thank you."

"I've never done...I mean...I've wanted to..." she whispered.

"Never?"

"Never.  I've kissed, and, well, that's it," she said.

As we lay together in the narrow bed, I told Sister Katherine about how 
my best friend, Luci, and I started fooling around together, and how 
crushed I was when she moved away.  I told her about Tina, another girl 
with whom I shared my body, my pleasure, my secrets.  And I told her 
about Julia, who was closest to my heart, even in death.  My voice was 
choked up and a tear was running down my cheek as I talked about her.  
Losing her was like losing my mother all over again.

"You poor dear," Sister Katherine murmured, holding me to her breast as 
I softly sobbed.  I felt bad for burdening her with my grief, but it 
felt so good to let it out, like an emotional orgasm.  I wondered if my 
heart had turned blue as well.  Katie gently stroked my hair as I began 
to fall asleep in her arms.


                                  * * *


I woke up with a start.  The door was opening and someone was slowly 
shuffling into the room.  I looked back at Sister Katherine, who was 
holding me from behind, partially shielded from the light streaming in 
from the hallway by my body.  Her eyes were wide open, like a deer 
caught in a car's headlights.

"Tommy?  Tommy?  Where are you?"  It was Father John again, looking for 
his long lost boy.

"I'm here, Father.  Right over here.  Follow my voice, Father," I said.  
Sister Katherine held me tighter and I could feel her heart racing.

"Tommy?  Show me your hands, boy.  Where are your hands?"

"Right here, Father.  Take my hand," I said, reaching out for him.  He 
placed my hands on his cock, and I tugged on his hardening member, 
drawing him closer, gently kneading his pale tool until it was fully 
erect.

"That's it, Tommy.  Nice and slow, like I showed you," he slurred.  I 
could smell the liquor on his breath.

Sister Katherine didn't dare utter a sound as I began to stroke the 
elderly priest's penis.  While I pleasured old Father LaRose, Father 
Ken's words about how this was an "act of kindness" came back to me.  I 
thought about Tommy, how he must have been around the age of my 
stepbrothers when he died.  Had he even kissed a girl?  Was there any 
pleasure in his all-too-short life or just pain?

"Get ready, Tommy.  You know what to do," Father John said.  Just like 
the other night, I leaned forward and took his cock in my mouth, 
swirling my tongue over the broad, spongy head, and was rewarded with a 
small spurt of semen.  A couple of hot, thin dribbles followed, and I 
scooped them up with my tongue, licking clean his softening penis.

"Good boy," the priest said in a low voice.  "Bless you, Tommy."  I 
heard the priest stuff his soft cock back in his trousers and turn to 
leave.  As the door closed behind him, I was glad that he didn't try to 
reach under the covers again, searching for a penis that wasn't there.

"That was Father LaRose," Sister Katherine whispered.

"Yes, he came in here a couple of times before, looking for 'Tommy'," I 
said, rolling over in her arms so I was facing her.

"You...you...took him...in your...," she stammered.  I leaned closer and 
kissed her, knowing that the taste of Father John's seed was still on my 
lips.

"Bitter," she said.

"I know.  You get used to it."

"I've never..."

"Never?"

"I dated boys when I was younger, but it never went that far," she said.

"What about girls?" I asked.

"What about girls.  That was a subject that was never mentioned when I 
was growing up, let alone acted on.  It wasn't until I entered novitiate 
that I acted upon the thoughts I had.  It felt so shameful at first..."

"But...?"

"But I gave in to my lust," she said, snuggling closer.  Sister 
Katherine kissed me and laid her head back down on the pillow.


                                  * * *


She was gone when I woke up the next morning.  I washed up and put on my 
best skirt and sweater and went downstairs for breakfast.  After eating, 
Father Ken took us all to the cathedral for morning mass.  There was a 
catechism class afterwards, but I was excused from this, by virtue of 
not being a Catholic.  I walked around the neighborhood for a while, but 
it was cold and there wasn't much open.  On the way back to the shelter, 
I ran into Billy.  He was hanging on the corner and smoking a cigarette, 
out of sight of the shelter's front door.  He looked too young to be 
puffing away at a Marlboro.

"Hey, Annie," he said.  "Wanna smoke?"

"No, thanks."

"Smoke a joint?"  Billy's demeanor was totally different from when I 
first met him, a bashful naked boy in a bathtub.  He was on a street 
corner, his natural element, the throne room of his tough boy kingdom.

"Sure," I said.  We walked around the block behind the shelter, to a 
boarded-up brownstone that had seen better days.  There was a small nook 
below street level, underneath the front steps.  Billy ducked inside the 
passage and I followed.  Light filtered in from a row of glass bricks 
set into the front stairway, illuminating a small space filled with 
construction debris, fast food wrappers, and empty coffee cups.

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin joint, lighting it 
with the cigarette.  He took a big hit and passed it to me, peeking 
through the low doorway when he heard a siren pass by and recede into 
the distance.  I took a drag on the joint and passed it back to him.

"That was fun, the other day," he said.

"In the bath?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, it was."

"Could we do that again?" he asked, trying hard to suppress an eager 
expression.

"I dunno.  What's in it for me?"  I was bored, and an afternoon of 
playing with this boy sounded like fun, but I didn't want to make it too 
easy for him to get in my panties.  He thought about my question for a 
while.

"Well, I can get you some pot," he said.  "Or coke or dope.  Whatever 
you want."

The idea of having some coke sort of appealed to me, but I wondered what 
kind of shit this eleven-year-old kid could come up with.  I wasn't 
about to suck him off for a bag of talcum powder.  Then again, this 
joint was pretty good.

"Get me some pot," I said.  "An ounce or something."

"A whole ounce?  No way!" Billy protested.  "I can get you a quarter, 
maybe."

"Make it a half, then."

Billy thought it over for a moment and then he nodded.  We finished up 
the joint and left our hiding place.  As we hit the sidewalk, Billy 
turned to head in the opposite direction.

"I'll get it to you after Sunday supper," he said.  "Is that okay?"

"Sure," I replied, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  
Billy smiled and ran off to find his dealer, who was somewhere in the 
neighborhood.  I headed back to the shelter and went up to my room, 
killing time by writing in my journal until the mid-afternoon meal was 
served.

Billy entered the dining room just as grace was being said.  Red faced 
and runny-nosed, he looked as if he'd just run a mile.  He took off his 
coat and sat down to dinner, giving me a wink and a smile to let me know 
that he had my bag of weed.  Sister Katherine was also there, holding a 
tureen and a ladling out soup for everyone.  All of the boys were 
present, as was Father Ken and a pair of priests that I recognized from 
previous dinners.  I wished Sister Katie would sit down and eat with me 
-- except for Billy, none of the boys would talk to me -- but she was 
busy serving dinner.

I finished quickly and cleaned off my tray, catching Billy's eye before 
heading upstairs.  I glanced up towards the ceiling, hoping he'd catch 
my drift and meet me upstairs when he finished his meal.  He gave me the 
slightest of nods to show me he understood.

I was in my room reading when I heard a soft knock on the door.  It was 
Billy.  I let him in and closed the door behind him.

"Here," he said, handing me a rolled-up plastic bag.  It felt lumpy.  I 
unrolled it and examined the contents, holding the open end to my nose 
and taking a sniff.  I'd never bought pot before, and I didn't really 
know what to look for, but it smelled nice and pungent.  I rolled it up 
again and stuffed it in the waistband of my skirt, under my sweater.

"You got a pipe or papers?" he asked.

"No.  Do you?"

"Nope.  I got an idea, though.  You got something sharp?  Like a pin or 
something?"

"I've got a pencil," I said.

"Good.  C'mon."  Billy led me out of my room and across the hall to the 
bathroom.  I closed the door behind us and was about to jam the pencil 
in the door frame when Billy stopped me.

"Wait, I'll need that to make the pipe," he said.  I leaned back against 
the door to keep someone from barging in on us and handed him the 
pencil, which he stuck behind his ear.

Billy took the toilet paper off of its holder and began to ease the 
cardboard core from the center of the roll.  The paper began to 
telescope around it, but he managed to free it without damaging the roll 
too much.  He placed the roll back in the holder.  With his thumbnail, 
he scored the cardboard tube, about a half inch from the end, making a 
small hole and tearing off the excess.  Then he reached into his pocket 
for a tiny silver nugget of aluminum foil, which he carefully peeled 
open.  Inside was a small brown lump.

"What's that?" I asked him.

"Sheesh."

"Sheesh?"

"Hash.  Hashish.  I got it from Donnie."

"Donnie?"

"Yeah, the guy I got the pot from," he said.  He tore off a piece of the 
tin foil and pressed it into the hole in the toilet paper tube, making a 
crude bowl.  Then he took the pencil from behind his ear and carefully 
punched some holes in the foil, handing the pencil back to me when he 
was done.  While I jammed the door closed with the pencil, Billy tested 
the makeshift pipe, holding one end to his mouth and covering the other 
with his hand.

Billy handed me the pipe, and I filled it with a pinch of pot from my 
bag while he soaked a towel and jammed it against the gap along the 
bottom of the door.  Then he opened the window next to the tub.  Cold 
air began to drift into the small room.

"We gotta sit next to the window and blow the smoke outside, or else 
they'll smell it in the hall," he said.  I sat next to him on the edge 
of the bathtub, both of us leaning on the window sill, and I handed him 
the pipe to light.  He handed it back to me, unlit.

"Hang on a sec," he said, pulling out the tinfoil nugget again.  He 
unwrapped it and sliced off a loamy chunk with his thumbnail, adding it 
to the pot in the improvised pipe.  "Okay, hold it up to your mouth and 
cover the end with your hand."  I did as he asked, and he lit the 
pot/hash mixture with a match.  I slowly inhaled the dense smoke.

"Pull your hand away from the end," Billy said.  I did so, swallowing 
the rest of the smoke, which began to expand in my lungs.  I suppressed 
the urge to cough, but my eyes began to water anyway from the smoke's 
harshness.  Billy took the pipe from me and took a hit, nearly coughing 
as well.  We passed the pipe back and forth until there was nothing but 
ash in the bowl, and then we smoked another.

By the time that one was done, I was wasted.  It didn't make me giggly 
like the pot I smoked with Michael.  Instead, I felt like I was 
floating, lightheaded, dizzy.  I imagined that I could hear voices 
coming from the room next to the bathroom, and I wasn't sure if they 
were real or not, but Billy heard them, too.  He got up from the edge of 
the bathtub where we were seated and went over to the opposite wall, 
where the voices were coming from.  He knelt by the wall, next to an 
electrical outlet.  I tiptoed over to him.

"Who is...?"

"Shhh!" Billy hissed, cutting me off.  He reached into his pocket and 
fished out a dime, using the coin to remove the screw that held the 
outlet's cover in place.  It took a minute to pry it loose; it seemed as 
if dozens of separate coats of paint had glued it to the wall.  When the 
cover was finally off, Billy peered into the wall.

"Take a look," he whispered.  I knelt next to him and peered through the 
hole in the wall, into the room next door.  I remembered how Del, Ramon, 
and I used to spy on my mother and stepfather through the hole in our 
bedroom closet.  I didn't dwell on this memory, however.  What I saw was 
too bizarre.

"That's Father Mike and Chris," Billy said.  The priest and the blond-
haired kid, who was roughly the same age as Billy, were seated on the 
edge of the bed that was perpendicular to the wall we were spying 
through.  Chris had been stripped down to his jockey shorts.  Father 
Mike had his trousers off, his arm around the boy, and was running his 
hand over Chris's smooth chest and down into his shorts.  I could see 
the priest's other hand, busy between his own legs as he began to rub 
the boy's young cock.

"Shove over," Billy whispered.  I moved to the right a bit, still 
peeking through the outlet, giving Billy a view through the wall.  We 
knelt at the wall together, just about cheek-to-cheek.  On the other 
side, Father Mike was making Chris stand up so he could pull down his 
underpants.  Chris's pecker was standing at attention.  Father Mike 
began to rub him.

"Wow," I said, sotto voce.

"Yeah," Billy said.  I guess I knew what was going on in the shelter 
between the clergy and the residents, but seeing it happen was 
different.  Very different.

"Anyone here ever do that to you?" I asked Billy.  He was silent.

"Father Ken gave me an 'examination' the first night I got here," I 
said, putting my arm around his waist.  I could feel him trembling.  In 
the room next door, Chris was on his knees, his lips wrapped around 
Father Mike's penis.  In a low voice, I told Billy about all the things 
I did with Father Ken and Father John.  He listened quietly as he 
watched Father Mike lay Chris on his belly on the bed and apply some 
lubricant to a spot between the blond boy's cheeks.

As we watched Father Mike spread Chris's legs and mount him, I ran my 
hand over Billy's back, trying to soothe him.  I could tell that he was 
both upset at what we were watching and captivated by this scene.  I 
was, too.  Chris was laying on the bed, facing us, clutching a pillow.  
He didn't cry out when the priest entered him, but I could see tears 
start to form in his eyes.  Father Mike lay on top of the boy and began 
pumping his tender bottom.  Billy turned away from the hole.

"I'm not a fag," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I know you're not," I said, kissing him on the forehead.

"Father Ken examined me, too," he said.  "And Father James.  And Father 
Joseph."  Billy's eyes were misting up.

"It's okay.  It's okay," I cooed, getting up from my knees and pulling 
Billy to his feet.  I steered him over to the sink, where I wiped his 
tears with a paper towel.  

"I'm not a fag," he repeated.

"No one is saying you are," I said.  "Do you like girls?  Do you like 
me?"  Billy nodded his head.

"Then you're not gay," I assured him.  I was about to say "And so what 
if you are", but decided not to.  How fragile men's egos are, even at 
this age.  I leaned in and kissed him on the lips.  He was cold to me at 
first, but he soon warmed up, putting his hands on my hips.  I guided 
one of them up to my breasts.

"Wanna take another bath together?" I asked him.

"Yeah," Billy said, a smile growing on his face.  I gave his little butt 
a playful squeeze and went to fill the tub.  While the water ran, I 
stripped off my sweater and stepped out of my skirt.

"I gotta pee," Billy said.  The sound of running water must have been 
getting to him.

"Go ahead."

"I can't while you're watching."

"You watched me pee the other night," I said.  "Fair's fair."  Billy 
couldn't argue with that.  He unzipped his fly and fished out his penis.  
It was hard.  He stood over the toilet for a moment.

"I can't.  It won't come out now."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"No, well...no," he said.

"Okay, then.  Just close your eyes and think of something else.  Try to 
forget the fact that you're in a tiny bathroom with a girl who's wearing 
nothing but panties."

"Um, okay."  He shut his eyes and began mumbling something under his 
breath.  Whatever he was thinking about did the trick: his penis began 
to soften and soon a straw-colored stream was flowing into the toilet.  
He shook out the last few drops and gave me a satisfied smile.

"My turn," I said, putting down the seat.  I pulled my panties down and 
sat on the toilet, taking a leak in front of Billy.  This time I didn't 
ask him to turn away.  He watched, fascinated, trying to figure out 
where the pee was coming from.  After I emptied my bladder, I took a wad 
of toilet paper and dried myself off.  Steadying myself by holding 
Billy's shoulder, I stepped out of my panties and stood before him, 
nude.

"Let's get you out of those good Sunday clothes," I said, loosening his 
tie.  Soon we were both naked, and the tub was only half full.  Billy 
stood with his hands on his hips, his hard little cock standing at 
attention.  I sat on the edge of the tub, my legs apart, and motioned 
for him to come closer.

"You're curious about how I'm put together?" I asked him.  He nodded, 
never once taking his eyes off of my sex.  "Okay, take a good look," I 
said, parting my labia with my fingers.  "This is my clit."  Billy moved 
closer, peering intently as I teased my clitoris from its hood.

"It's sensitive, like the tip of your dick.  Below that is my urethra, 
my pee hole.  And below that..."

"...is your fuck hole," Billy laughed.

"Yeah, right.  My fuck hole," I said.  "Most guys are a little more 
polite about it, regardless of what they're thinking.  You want to get 
in there, you'd better be polite.  And gentle.  Remember what I told you 
the other day?"

"Girls like boys who are gentle?"

"Exactly," I said, kissing him on his freckled forehead.  The bathtub 
was almost full.  I checked the temperature and climbed in, easing into 
the warm water.  Billy climbed in after me, and I positioned him so he 
was sitting between my legs with his back to me, his firm little butt 
pressing against my cleft.  I reached for the soap and began to lather 
up his smooth chest.  As my soapy hands worked lower and lower on his 
torso, Billy sighed and settled back against my breasts.

I expected to find a nice hard little pecker between his legs, and I 
wasn't at all disappointed.  Billy's little bubble butt pressed against 
my pussy as I jerked his soapy cock and cradled his slack ball sack.

"Turn over so I can do your back," I said.  Billy rolled over in my arms 
so that he was facing me, his head resting on my shoulder.  I lathered 
his back, starting at his neck and working my way down to his bottom.  
He flinched when my fingers probed his crack, so I backed off from 
there, lathering his bum cheeks instead.  Billy's soapy cock slid back 
and forth over my thigh as I gently fondled his bottom.

"Stand up so I can get you nice and clean," I said.  Billy stood up in 
the tub and I knelt in front of him, stroking his penis as I rinsed off 
the lather.  I leaned in and took it in my mouth, sinking my lips down 
the length of his hardness.  He sighed with pleasure as I sucked him and 
cupped his hairless balls, his hips rocking slightly to my rhythm.

I desperately wanted to fuck him right then, to swallow him with my 
hungry cunny, to feel his stiff pecker stir my juices, but I couldn't 
risk getting knocked up, least of all by an eleven-year-old boy.  There 
was, however, something else we could do.  I released him from my mouth 
and began to soap up his cock again, and then I turned around and 
presented my bottom to him, sliding the bar of soap along my asscrack 
until I was nice and slick.

"Kneel behind me, Billy," I instructed him.  He got on his knees and 
inched closer, the tip of his cock sliding along my crack, his eager 
hips thrusting in anticipation of what was about to happen.  I reached 
back and took hold of his cock, guiding it into my tight bottom.  It 
took a couple of tries for him to enter me, but once his tip had 
penetrated my nether hole, the rest of his shaft slid in effortlessly.

"Feel good?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"Go slowly."

"Okay."  It must have taken all of his restraint not to start humping me 
furiously like a horny little poodle, but somehow he managed pretty 
well.  I could feel his warm breath on my back, and the cool air from 
the open window caressed my wet breasts, making my nipples crinkle up 
like pruny bath water fingertips.  I guided his hands to my breasts, 
giving him something to hold on to while he slowly pumped my bottom.  
Meanwhile, I began to frig my clit with my soapy fingertips, 
occasionally dipping one into my snatch.

"Annie, I'm gonna..." Billy gasped.  I could tell by the way his hips 
stuttered between thrusts that he was struggling to stay in control as 
he teetered on the edge of coming.

"Come for me, baby.  Come in my ass," I urged him.  These words had a 
galvanic effect on Billy, and he began to thrust hard and fast, making a 
loud slapping sound as his hips hit my bottom again and again.  Then I 
felt him stiffen and twitch inside me and the thrusts stopped.  Billy 
lay his head between my shoulder blades as his cock began to soften and 
slip out of my bottom.

Billy got up off of me and sat back down in the tub, a contented smile 
on his face as he watched me roll over and sit down across from him.  
The smile wouldn't leave his face, even when I leaned over to kiss him.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"That was awesome," he said.

"Do you want to do it again?" I asked.

"Sure!"

"Okay, let's dry off and go to my room," I said.  "One thing, though..."

"What?"

"You've got to lick my pussy first."

"Eww!  No way!"  Billy's smile disappeared and he wrinkled his button 
nose.

"Okay.  Suit yourself," I said, slowly lathering my breasts and arms.

"But...but..."  His eyes were locked on my soapy tits.

"But what?" I asked him.  "Does something about my pussy disgust you?"

"No, but..."

"But what?  Lots of guys do it.  Lots of guys like it.  Girls love 
having their pussies licked."  Billy thought about this, weighing his 
desire to fuck me again with the natural reluctance boys his age had 
towards cunnilingus.  It took a long time for my stepbrothers to 
reconcile themselves with the idea of eating pussy, but once they'd done 
that they began to enjoy eating me out, Del especially.  He loved to 
watch me squirm with delight as his tongue danced over my clit; it made 
him feel like a real man in bed.

"Look, Billy, I don't want you to do anything you feel uncomfortable 
about", I said, not wanting to make having sex an unpleasant experience 
for him.  The priests around here were good at doing just that.

"No, no.  I'll try it.  I want to," he said.

"You sure about this?  You don't have to."

"No, I want to, Annie.  You've been really nice to me."

"You're so sweet," I said, leaning forward and kissing him on the 
forehead.  "You're going to grow up to be a handsome man and a wonderful 
lover."

Billy blushed at this, his big smile returning to his freckled face.  We 
rinsed off and dried ourselves, smoking another bowl of pot laced with 
hash as the bathtub drained, hiding the pipe behind the tub's drain 
pipe.  Billy screwed the cover back on the electrical outlet after 
taking one last look at Chris and Father Mike.  They were lying together 
on the bed, nestled like spoons.

Even though we were just going across the hall to my room, we had to get 
dressed anyway.  I left first, telling Billy to count to 100 before 
following.  Back in my room, I took my skirt and sweater off again and 
lay down on my bed in my panties.  Billy joined me a couple of minutes 
later, and he took off his clothes and joined me in bed.  I pulled him 
on top of me and we began to kiss, though his tongue was all over my 
mouth.

"Whoa, slow down," I said.  "Less tongue.  Watch the teeth."  We kissed 
again, and Billy did much better this time, showing a bit more 
restraint.

"Now, start kissing lower.  Nibble my earlobe a bit, kiss my neck."  I 
stroked his soft, smooth skin as he began to gently suck on my earlobe 
and explore my neck and shoulder with his lips.

"Do my breasts, now.  Cup them gently and bring the nipple to your 
lips," I instructed him.  Billy suckled me like a baby, carefully 
fondling my small tits.  His teeth lightly grazed my nipples, making me 
shiver with delight, and I let him play with my little boobs for a 
while, enjoying his gentle touch.  Billy must have enjoyed playing with 
them; his pecker was hard again and pressing against my leg.

"Okay, now start kissing lower, down my belly."  Billy looked up and 
smiled as he began to leave a trail of kisses that stopped at the 
waistband of my panties.

"Before you pull them off, just give me a kiss right here," I said, 
pointing to my panty-clad mons.  His lips pressed against the soft 
cotton covering my pussy, and then he began to tug at the waistband of 
my underwear.

"Slowly, slowly," I said, lifting my bottom off of the bed.  Billy 
paused for a moment and then began to slowly pull my panties down my 
thighs, like a boy trying to unwrap a gift on Christmas morning.  When 
he'd finished removing my undies, he looked up at me, awaiting the next 
part of his lesson.

"Kiss your way up the inside of my thighs," I said.  "Take your time.  
Tease me a little."  Billy gave a little chuckle as he began to kiss and 
caress my inner thighs, working his way up to my cleft.  When I felt his 
hot breath on my sex, I reached down and parted my labia.

"Here's the tricky part.  You've got to concentrate on the little bump 
at the top, but not right away.  Work your way up to it, kiss and lick 
around it first," I said.  Billy hesitated for a second before planting 
a kiss on my snatch and licking around my hungry hole.  His tongue began 
to inch higher until he found my clit, making me gasp and shudder.

"Like that?" Billy asked.

"Just like that.  You're doing fine," I said.  "Taste okay?"

"Yeah, a little salty, like tears, but okay."  Billy went back to 
circling my clit with his tongue as I began to cup my breasts and 
lightly pinch my nipples.

"Okay, start licking my clit directly, up and down and side to side, not 
too hard."  Billy did as he was told, and I felt my thighs begin to 
quiver, a kernel of pleasure building in my lower belly.

"A little harder...cup my bottom in your hands...that's 
right...perfect..."

Billy had a look of intense concentration on his face as he ate me, 
glancing up at me every so often to watch the effect his mouth was 
having on me.  I had been halfway to coming back in the bathtub, so I 
knew it wouldn't take very long.  Julia had the patience and stamina to 
eat me for an hour, something I knew was beyond this eager young boy.  
Some day, though...

"Yes, Billy...yes...put your finger in me...yes...ungh..."  He slipped a 
slick digit in my cunny, pushing it in and out like a little cock, his 
knuckle grazing that sensitive spot on the top of my vagina.  I squeezed 
my breasts and arched my back in anticipation of what was to come, the 
kernel of pleasure inside me expanding like a supernova.

"Urgh...yes!  Harder, now, harder...oh God oh God oh God..."  My thighs 
began to spasm as I came, pinning Billy between them as he lashed my 
clit with his tongue and fucked my hole with his finger.  My ass 
levitated off the bed and I felt like I'd fly off into space if I let go 
of the sheets.  There was a second peak to my climax as Billy switched 
from an up-and-down motion to a vigorous side-by-side shaking of his 
head, his tongue and lips rubbing across my clit like a multitude of 
mouths.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," I gasped, tugging at his arm and pulling 
him on top of me.  He smiled, his face glistening with my juices, and we 
kissed.

"Was that okay?" Billy asked.

"Perfect," I said.  "You were perfect.  Thank you."  Billy smiled again 
and nestled his head in the crook of my neck as I held him and caressed 
his back.

"I liked doing that," he whispered.  "I liked seeing you come."

"You can do that whenever you want," I said, kissing his cheek.  We lay 
together for a while, and then he rolled off of me, his hard little 
boycock twitching with anticipation.  I reached over to the bedside 
table for the bottle of moisturizer.  A local hotel had donated cartons 
of toiletries to the shelter, the little bottles of shampoo, 
conditioner, and lotion that they stocked for guests, pre-moistened 
towelettes, and tiny tubes of toothpaste.  I squeezed out a dollop of 
lotion and began to rub it all over Billy's stiff prick, making it 
glisten in the dim light of my room.  Then I handed the bottle to him 
and rolled over on my belly.

"Put some lotion in my bottom," I said, spreading my cheeks apart.  The 
lotion was cold at first, but the friction of Billy's finger warmed it 
up.  I reached under my belly and began to finger my still-sensitive 
clit with a greasy finger as Billy mounted me.  I didn't need to guide 
him inside me this time, as he knew exactly what to do.  His slick cock 
slowly pierced my bottom, and I clenched my muscles to make it extra 
tight for him.

"So good," he murmured as he slowly began to thrust.

"Mmmm..." I agreed, pushing my bottom up to meet his hips.  He held my 
shoulders as he fucked my ass, gently kissing my back and neck.  We 
coupled gently, quietly, his little balls rubbing against my pussy with 
each stroke.  Billy was the perfect size for my ass, just like Paco, and 
he seemed to enjoy it just as much as my little stepbrother.  And just 
like Paco, Billy had a hard time maintaining a slow pace.  I didn't 
mind, though, because every hard thrust pressed my swollen clit against 
my fingers.

Unlike the assfucking I'd had in the bath earlier, Billy was taking his 
sweet time coming, and by the time I felt that telltale twitching of his 
cock, I was beginning to climax again.  I rubbed my clit harder, trying 
to catch up with him, and I succeeded.  My orgasm wasn't as intense as 
the ones I had when he was eating me, but it was enough to make me 
clench my sphincter around his spasming cock.  Billy gasped in surprise 
as my tight hole got even tighter, and he gave my bottom one last deep 
thrust as he came.

"Stay in me," I whispered as Billy started to roll off of me.  We held 
hands, our fingers intertwined, as he lay on top of my back.  I turned 
my head so he could see my smile, and he gave me a tender kiss on the 
cheek.  When his cock finally softened and slipped out of me, we 
snuggled together under the covers, trading gentle kisses and soft 
caresses.

"Are you my girlfriend now?" Billy asked.

"Oh, Billy," I sighed.  "You're three years younger than I am."

"But..."  He began to sound upset.

"Let's be like brother and sister instead, okay?"

"Okay, I guess," he said, crestfallen.

"Hey, hey, don't frown, baby.  I loved my brothers.  And we used to do 
fun things like this all the time," I said.  "Besides, boyfriends and 
girlfriends break up all the time.  I want you to be my little brother 
forever.  Okay?"

"Okay.  I like that.  I never had a big sister," he said, smiling again.  
I kissed him and we hugged each other, like siblings rather than lovers, 
until Billy's stomach began to groan from hunger.  Intent on raiding the 
kitchen for a snack, he started to get out of bed, but I made him wait 
until I cleaned off his little pecker with a towelette and dried it with 
my panties.  We got dressed and went downstairs to get something to eat.  
There was a basketball game on in the common room, and Billy left to 
catch some of it, giving me a quick kiss before he left.

I had just finished eating a sandwich and was walking back to my room 
when I heard a soft sobbing coming from the room next door to the 
bathroom, Chris's room.  I stopped for a moment outside his door and 
listened, and then I knocked once, twice, and then a third time.  The 
sobbing stopped and a small voice said "Come in".

Chris was lying on his bed, clutching a pillow.  His eyes were red and 
his face was lined with the tracks of tears.  He looked up at me with 
the saddest expression I'd ever seen, anywhere.  I sat down on the edge 
of the bed and took one of his hands.

"What's wrong?"  I asked, expecting him to either reply "Nothing" or say 
something about his encounter with Father Mike.  His reply surprised me.

"I miss my mom," he said, choking on the last word.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, taking the pillow from his hands and 
setting it aside so I could take this sad boy in my arms and hold him.  
"I miss my mom, too."

I held Chris's trembling body as he cried on my shoulder, letting his 
grief flow as he held on to me for dear life.  My eyes began to tear up 
as I listened to him sob.  I missed my mother and, even more so, I 
missed Julia, who had been more than my lover, she'd been my surrogate 
mother for the past year.  I'd had almost five years to absorb the loss 
of my mom, but the pain of Julia's passing was still fresh, like an open 
wound.

I sat holding Chris for a long time, gently rocking him and stroking his 
back and his unruly mop of dirty blond hair.  The flow of tears began to 
recede and his tight chest relaxed.  When he finally fell asleep, I laid 
him down on his bed and tucked him in, giving him a soft kiss on the 
forehead before leaving.  Back in my own room, lying in my own warm bed, 
I let my own grief out of its hiding place in the back of my mind and 
cried myself to sleep.


 
                                  * * * 
 

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html