Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does HS 16 By peregrinf

   At breakfast the next morning Mom was not happy and, after all I'd put
her through, I felt terrible about it, but I was adamant.

   Good word, "adamant." It has all those short "A" sounds, including the
"dam" in the middle, coming to a full stop with that nice, hard, "T" at the
end.  It sounds like what it means -- stubborn, obstinate, unyielding. 
Thank you, Mr.  Turner.

   Unfortunately, Mom could be just as adamant as I was -- the irresistible
force meeting the immovable object.  Take your pick as to who was which.

   Last night, after my nice, long, hot shower, my skin still damp, Mom and
Elaine held me in their arms, keeping me "under observation," -- very, very
close observation -- their bodies warm and comforting on either side of
mine, skin to skin while I slept the sleep of the dead, safe in their
embrace.

   And now, here I was, fighting with my mom.

   I tried to tell myself this wasn't really a fight, or even an argument,
more of a discussion.

   But I had to admit it was an argument.  Not a heated one, we rarely had
those, but both of us could be stubborn.  We butted heads.  I wanted to go
to today's time trials, Mom didn't want me to, because, well, just because.
She came up with one lame reason after another.  It was like I was facing
one of those machines that fires tennis balls.  I was swatting those
excuses back over the net as fast as they came at me.

   Not being the biological parent, Elaine was a spectator, her eyes
flicking back and forth between me and Mom like she really was watching a
tennis match.  She sat there, uncomfortable, finishing off her bacon,
saying nothing.

   I would not budge.  Aside from the fact that my place on the team
depended on the time trials, I was also desperate to keep my mind off what
the future held for me.  Tomorrow morning, Sunday, I was scheduled to give
Sergeant Kelly my statement.  I was not looking forward to revisiting my
encounter with the Worm.

   Then Monday morning I'd have to face my schoolmates.  That threatened to
be worse than facing them after my romp in the park.  Shit.  I just knew
the rumors would be flying, probably already were.  I bet every damn cell
tower in town was lit up like a Christmas tree.  "Did you hear what Dee
Walker did?" And by Monday the tell-a-student grapevine would be seething
with the news that Worthington had been hauled off in handcuffs, and that I
was to blame.  And can you imagine what they'll be saying about what I did
to accomplish that?

   I shuddered to think.

   And as if that weren't enough, there was the first meeting of the "Save
the Program Committee," as I'd come to think of it.  Postpone it 'cause the
Worm was unavailable?  Fat chance.  Mrs.  Devers knew the iron was hot and
she was going to strike.  At least Heather Mac, as I had come to think of
her, would take the point on that.  Chair of that important committee would
be the final jewel in the crown of her college application.  At least I'd
be able to sit in the background and doodle in my notebook while she ran
the meetings.

   The thought of moping around home all day today with those things
looming over me was almost enough to spoil my breakfast.

   But only almost.  It was Mom's whole wheat waffles, after all.

   "I am going to the time trials and I am going to swim!  I am sorry,
Mother, but this is something I have got to do!"

   She knows when I drop all contractions, speaking slowly and distinctly,
and call her Mother, I am dead serious.  It is the closest thing I have to
a nuclear option.  In the mother/daughter arms race it ranks up there with
when she calls me "Diane" or even "Diane Elizabeth," which she knows I
hate. "Diane Elizabeth Walker" from her is thermonuclear.  Should I ever
contest any edict that follows it, vaporization would follow.

   Obviously I've never tested it.  I guess I'm too young to be trusted
with the equivalent.

   Fortunately she hadn't reached that stage yet.  Before she did Elaine
stepped in as peacemaker, putting a calming hand on each of us.  I don't
know what she whispered in Mom's ear, but I saw my mother begin to soften.
Still toying with my brunch -- we'd slept really late -- I was pushing the
last cold bite of waffle around to sop up drops of maple syrup and butter.
I eyed Mom as she first shook her head, listened, sighed, and finally
slumped as my hopes rose.

   "Alright," she agreed.  "You can go to the time trials...."

   My heart started beating again and I almost felt dizzy.  I hadn't
realized I'd been holding my breath.

   "With two conditions," Mom went on, eyeing me very seriously.

   "What are they?" I asked warily.

   She held up one finger -- no, not THAT one!  -- she is a lady, after
all. "First, I go with you.  I take you there, I wait and I watch -- I
promise not to cheer too loudly -- and I bring you home as soon as they are
over.  I absolutely refuse to let you out of my sight today!"

   I hesitated, Elaine patted my arm, and I nodded, actually feeling relief
that Mom would be there.  The idea that she'd be watching over me was like
a warm, fuzzy blanket.  I'd been so alone in Worthington's lair the thought
of it still gave me cold chills.

   "Don't you have a showing or something today?" I asked fearfully.

   "I'm canceling it -- family emergency.  I'll make it official when we're
done here.  Someone else can take it.  This is more important than the
commission for some damn suburban split-level."

   That made me feel guilty, but good, too, that she'd do that for me. 
"Thank you," I barely whispered.  "What's the other condition?"

   "You and I sit down together with Ms.  Andrews for a nice long talk as
soon as she can fit us in.  After Friday you have got to have some help,
and I need to figure out what makes you tick."

   I ran my fingers through my hair, still damp from a morning shower.  I
wasn't eager to give in on that one, afraid of letting people in on my
secrets, especially my mom, the few that I had from her.  But then I
remembered Ms.  Andrews and her warmth and patience and the support she'd
given me during the whole Sex Ed thing last year, and it felt like a spring
was being unwound inside me.  What could it hurt?  I heaved a sigh of
relief.  "Okay."

   "May I come along?  To the swimming, I mean," Elaine asked.

   My gloom was lifting.  Swimming is so totally distracting.  "Okay. 
Yeah! Sure!  But I wanna get there early."

   I ate the last bite of my breakfast, relieved to see some of the worry
lines fade from Mom's face.

   "Then you'd better get moving," Elaine said, getting up to clear the
table.  "If I remember right, they start at one, and warm-ups before that.
I'll take care of the kitchen, you go.  I'll get there later.  I have to
take my own car.  I'm on call."

   We all got up and I was hugging Mom.  "It's okay for her to come, isn't
it?"

   "Of course," Mom agreed, letting me go with a fond smile.

   "Great!" I turned to my alternate Mom, as I thought of Elaine, and she
had her arms open, too, and I clutched at her, just as tight, before
dashing upstairs to grab my swimming bag, my heart singing.  If it hadn't
been for the safety belt I would have been bouncing around Mom's car like a
demented jack rabbit.  I felt like a kid again, for the first time in a
week, maybe more.  This being in high school was tough.  She pulled into
the school parking lot and before she'd locked the car I was dashing ahead,
swinging my bag wildly.

   Yanking the school doors open, then the doors to the locker room, I was
engulfed in the smell of sweat and mildew, liniment, and shampoo, with a
faint hint of chlorine.  It was the scent of the gates to paradise.

   Of course it was total bedlam -- girls from 5 to 18 dashing around in
all different states of dress and undress, bare butts and boobies twinkling
under the harsh fluorescent lights, a few moms trying to maintain order,
the older kids generally more quietly trying to get changed.  There was the
chatter, the laughter, the screams, the excitement, the bragging, the
worrying, lockers banging, towels snapping, toilets flushing, showers
hissing, voices echoing off the tile as shrieking kids made their token
dash through the spray before entering the pool area.

   Here, with kids from a half-dozen different schools totally excited
about the trials, I was just one of the crowd.  I high-fived Gail Devers as
I went for my locker before I remembered these trials were for the high
school team, even though Coach opened them to everyone.  It was a school
function!  Since I was still in The Program I was supposed to use the boy's
locker room.  I darted from the girls' locker room past Coach's office and
into the boys', where the scent included a hint of testosterone.  I was
welcomed by a wave of whistles and shouts of "Dee, Dee, Dee!"

   My mom's arrival via the same route was greeted by a sudden hush, a
flutter of towels concealing groins.  She'd tracked me down -- in the BOYS'
locker room, much to the guys' surprise.  She had definitely meant what
she'd said about not letting me out of her sight!  Suddenly self-conscious
with her there, I found an empty locker and was out of my clothes in about
a minute flat.  Then I found myself holding my suit -- my brand new high
school racing suit -- up in front of me, very much aware of all the boys
and Mom watching me.  The thought of putting on that suit, with its gussets
and panels and what not that tried to turn me into a torpedo, made me stop
in my tracks.

   Of course, I couldn't wear it.  The Program, remember?

   In my mind, I flashed back to my time with Worthington, and for a moment
I froze.

   Shit!  Get a grip on yourself, The Stick scolded me.  Focus on the time
trials!

   I focused.  Steeling myself, I stuffed everything in the locker and
slammed it shut.  The combination lock out of my bag took care of security.


   Then I remembered and had to unlock it and get my towel out before I
shut and locked it again, blushing the whole time, from head to toe.  No,
not because of my nudity!  With embarrassment because, with everyone
watching, I'd forgotten my towel.  Go figure.

   When I turned toward the showers I walked right into Greg, and I was so
happy to see him I just leaped into his arms, wrapping my legs around him
for a long, warm hug, never mind that Mom was watching my every move and
the other guys whistling and teasing.

   We didn't care.  Greg cupped my ass and we were body to body, though he
was wearing his racing suit.  No more the skimpy Speedo, this was one of
those skin-tight things, waist to knees on guys, all contoured to reduce
drag, but he still felt good against me.

   Finally I had to break the hug.  "I need to shower."

   "Would you like some help?"

   "I'd love it," I admitted, shooting my mom an embarrassed look.  She
smiled, nodded, this didn't bother her.  I think she understood what I was
feeling, the warm, soothing sensation of Greg's loving embrace, the first
little flicker of desire springing to life in me.  His suit was visibly
strained by his arousal.

   No token shower this, not the usual quick rinse.  We walked into the
shower room with our arms around each other, and while Mom watched fondly
from the doorway he lavished me with soap, starting with my hair and
working his way down.  Oh, it felt so good, his soapy hands slithering all
over my naked skin.  All I had to do was stand there and let him do the
work.

   I could have stood there all day, especially while his soapy fingers
enjoyed my playground, but time was flying, so we couldn't really play. 
His equipment wasn't readily accessible anyway and Mom was right there in
the door, holding my towel.  So we rinsed off, bumping teasingly against
each other under the spray, then with my hand in his I followed him out to
the pool.

   Mom trailed in our wake until Greg and I headed for the water, missiles
on a mission and she peeled off for the bleachers, already filling with
moms and dads, there to watch their kids compete for spots on the team.

   I'd had three long, hot showers since nailing Worthington's worthless
ass, but I didn't finally begin to start feeling clean until I slipped into
the pool for a couple of warm-up laps.  Greg was in the next lane, matching
me stroke for stroke, a slow, easy pace.  We were doing butterfly, our
favorite and I still flowed through the water, but I felt heavy, sluggish,
and I knew Greg was taking it easy.  I didn't care, it felt so good to be
back in the sweet water, feeling the chlorine neutralizing the last of the
filth the Worm had left on me.

   At the turn I went to my backstroke to stretch different muscles.  At
the start I'd felt like I could go on forever, but after two laps I was
breathing hard, my muscles burning, so I stopped and slogged over to the
ladder, and hauled myself out, sloshing on surprisingly weary legs to where
Mom waited with my towel, Elaine beside her.

   "Are you all right?" Elaine asked.

   "Out of shape," I admitted panting a little.  "Coach says the three
elements of training --technique, strength and conditioning -- are like the
three legs of a stool.  I guess a couple of my legs are a bit short."

   "Are you comfortable naked?" Elaine asked.

   "Why wouldn't I be?  I'm still in The Program, after all."

   "I just thought...." She let her voice trail off.

   I wasn't about to admit that I wasn't totally comfortable.  I felt
vulnerable in a way I never had before, which was stupid.  I tried to tell
myself nothing had changed, but I wrapped myself in my towel before I sat.
With Mom and Elaine on one side, Greg on the other I felt safe and
protected.

   Coach always started with the little kids, 6 and under.  Together we
watched them splash their way down the pool on their 25-meter races,
cheering them on.  The youngest were not long out of the "tuber" class, and
it showed.  One five-year-old stopped halfway to hang onto the lane rope
for a minute before pushing gamely on using a mix of dogpaddle and
freestyle, arms barely breaking the surface, holding his face up out of the
water.  His mom was there at the finish to lift him out of the water -- his
baggy suit showing half his pale butt before she wrapped him in a towel and
gave him a big hug.

   I always enjoyed watching the kids.  Greg and I analyzed their strokes,
tried to pick the winners and losers over the season.  Even though the
trials would take all afternoon this was home to me and I was determined to
stick it out through the whole grind, subsisting on granola bars, right
through Greg's and my races and beyond.

   As before, when our turn came Coach put us in neighboring lanes.  He
cocked an eyebrow at my lack of a suit, but didn't say anything, just went
through the starting routine.  I was naked on the starting blocks again. 
Jeez, what a tangle of feelings.  I was scared and horny all at the same
time, wondering what I thought I was doing.  I was incredibly aware of my
nakedness, even after all the time I'd spent naked in public.

   "Take your mark!"

   I coiled myself for the start, unleashed my body with the sound of the
starting horn, only just then remembering the first time I'd gone off the
blocks naked, how it had hurt, and I clenched up defensively, botching my
racing dive.

   It made my nipples burn, but not as much as I remembered and the pain
quickly faded as I did my usual underwater dolphin kicks before breaking
the surface, my arms sweeping over in my butterfly stroke.  The water swept
over my flesh, swirling around my now hyper-sensitive nipples, teasing my
pussy.  I flowed sinuously through the cool liquid with dolphin-like grace,
so the technique was still there.  Unfortunately the strength sure wasn't.
My arms began to tire fast, and the stamina evaporated during the second
lap.

   Shit, it had only been -- what?  -- three weeks or a month since I'd won
the county championships?  Could a month with no training make that much
difference?  I watched Greg sail off into the sunset as I struggled to
finish.

   I was humiliated, and the less said about any of my other performances
the better.  Coach was shaking his head dolefully.  Between races I took to
leaning against Greg, depressed but comforted by his strength.  To distract
myself a plan for the rest of the day was gestating in my head.  I finally
screwed my courage up and asked him if he'd like to come home with me, at
least for some supper.

   He lit up.  "I'd love to, but...." he pointed to his sister, up in the
back row of the bleachers where I hadn't seen her.  She was totally
engrossed with some electronic gadget, virtually oblivious to the swimming.
The locks of hair in her twin ponytails had gone from blue to day-glow
orange since I'd last seen her.  She'd filled out a bit, too, titty-bumps
poking out her T shirt.

   "I'm watching her over the weekend while mom and dad are out of town."

   "Oh." I thought it over.  I liked Drindy a lot, probably because she
reminded me of me when I was her age.  Well, she might put a crimp into my
probably unrealistic hopes -- I wasn't sure how I felt about actually
making love, after what the Worm had done to me -- but still, I'd be with
Greg, which was what I really wanted.  "She could come, too.  Do you have
to be at home with her?  Can't you watch her at my place?"

   He thought it over.  The idea obviously appealed to him, especially
given the reaction from his groin.  "Is it okay with your mom?" he asked.

   I leaned the other way.  "Mom, can Greg and Drindy come home with me
after, and spend the night?  His parents are out of town and he's stuck
watching her all weekend.  He can watch her just as easy with us, can't
he?"

   Don't oversell it, The Stick cautioned me before I added something dumb
like "it'd be safer than at their house just the two of them."

   "I'll have to hear that from their parents," Mom insisted after a
moment's thought, "and how does Drindy feel about it?"

   I scrambled up the bleachers and when Greg's sister heard the plan she
let out a squeal that triggered a mass false-start of the next race.  Then
she tried to squeeze the life out of me.  When I looked down from the back
row to give a thumbs up my mom was already on her cell.  Greg must have
pre-dialed the number for her.  A few minutes later it was all cleared and
we were on our way out of there.

   So much for my vow to stay to the end of the time trials.  The only
things more boring than the 400 meter freestyle are the 800 and 1500,
which, except for the start and finish, are like watching paint dry.  Mom,
Elaine and Drindy created minor consternation by following Greg and me into
the almost empty boys' locker room, where Greg and I self consciously
stripped, showered, and dressed, while Drindy giggled and played with
someone's forgotten jock strap.  Some of the older boys popped in, saw who
was there, and the more modest popped out again, while others just took it
in stride.

   Then Greg and I cuddled in the back seat of Mom's car while Drindy rode
shotgun and Elaine trailed along in her car.  We had all no sooner made our
way in the side door to the kitchen than Drindy, as irrepressible as ever,
turned to Mom.

   "Mrs.  Walker, can we all get naked now?" she asked, her orange-streaked
pony tails flipping mischievously.

   I thought Mom's eyebrows were going to disappear into her hairline and
reappear on the back of her neck.

   "Drindy!" Greg gasped.

   I gulped.

   After a moment of stunned silence Elaine burst out laughing.

   "Dee was just swimming naked in front of everybody," Drindy plowed on,
oblivious to the glares she got from Greg and me, "and she's told me you're
naked all the time at home, Mrs.  Walker, and Dee and I and Greg got naked
under the bushes one day, in the park by the library.  So why can't we all
go naked?"

   Mom looked at me, her eyebrows having recovered from their disappearing
act so she could cock one ominously.

   "I -- uh -- guess I forgot to tell you about that," I confessed.

   She regained control of her jaw.  "Did you now."

   It did not come out like a question.

   "Uh -- it was sorta like an outreach thing from when I was doing the Sex
Ed program, you know, with Carl and Beth, last year?  We -- the three of
us, Drindy and Greg and me -- had come out of the library after I returned
my overdue book -- remember?  -- and Drindy was complaining that she didn't
know anything, so I thought maybe I should -- uh -- show her some
stuff...?"

   I let my voice fade out before I said too much.  I decided this would
not be a good time to go into details about what I'd shown the girl, or to
mention that Drindy and her brother had also witnessed my
bitch-chasing-the-Frisbee performance in the park not all that long ago.

   For a minute I thought I might have lit the "Diane Elizabeth Walker"
fuse and braced myself for oblivion.

   Elaine had choked her laughter down to snorts.

   I'll grant you, Mom is made of stern stuff.  Instead of blowing up she
drew a deep breath, shot me a look that should have melted me right down
into my shoes -- but I'm made of stern stuff, too -- then looked at Drindy
more kindly, only her jumping jaw muscle betraying her tension.  "Well, if
that's what she said -- and I can't deny that we often do go naked here at
home -- then if Greg thinks it is okay, I guess we could.  What do you
think, Greg?"

   That was quick thinking on her part, but if she thought Greg was going
to bail her out of this she should have known better.  I'd corrupted him a
long time ago, and after all, she'd seen me jump his bones at my last
birthday party, where everyone had been naked, so it wasn't like everyone
in the room didn't already know what was going on.

   He cleared his throat and tried to look as if he were seriously
contemplating the issue like a mature person, rather than the horny 15-year
old he was.  Finally he nodded with all the solemnity of Solomon deciding a
case.  "I -- uh -- don't see any harm in it," he concluded.  "After all,
it's not like its something we haven't all seen before, is it?"

   Drindy didn't wait for second thoughts.  She was out of her clothes in
an instant, right there in the kitchen, and I had to admit I did appreciate
her budding figure.  She was an athlete, not tall and wiry, but very fit,
with the legs of a soccer player and a maturing body.  Her boobs were
beginning to swell, already rivaling mine, softly rounded, tipped with
small brown nipples.  Her body, where her swim suit covered it, was very
pale, compared to the coppery tone of the rest of her.  A few wisps of
black hair graced her pubes with its tantalizing crevice.

   Without much success I sternly tried to tell myself that she did NOT
look good enough to eat, and busied myself with more practical issues. 
"Gather up your clothes, Drindy, and bring them upstairs.  Come on, Greg,
let's get naked."

   I closed the door of my room behind us, cutting off the laughter from
downstairs, relieved that Mom was laughing almost as hard as Elaine. 
Drindy was holding her clothes, looking around my room.  I was stifling my
own giggles.  I liked this girl!

   "Drindy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Greg asked.

   She gave us that wide eyed innocent look I'd used so often myself at
that age.  Well, okay, I still use it.  "You coulda said 'no' ya know," she
pointed out.  "And besides, how'm I gonna learn anything without your
help?"

   "Wasn't under the bushes in the park enough?" I asked.

   "No!  Now, are you guys gonna get naked or not?" she challenged.

   Greg sighed.  "We might as well give in now," he told me, stripping off
his shirt.

   "I wanna watch you fuck.  I couldn't see good at the party.  It was
dark, and I was clear down at the wrong end of the pool."

   "You should have been locked in a closet," Greg growled.

   "How did you let her live so long?" I asked, down to my skin, and
appreciating the view of Greg's similar attire.  My reaction quashed the
worry I'd had that Worthington's disgusting performance had turned me off
guys forever.  Sure, I still wanted Drindy, and Missy, and Kathy, of
course, but I really lusted after Greg, and judging by his beautiful hard
on he felt the same way toward me.

   But then, he didn't yet know what had happened to me just yesterday.  I
wondered if he'd still feel the same way after I told him.  Maybe I didn't
have to tell him, but I felt I should.  When he'd seen me yesterday I was
on a hospital gurney in the nurse's office, an IV in my arm, surrounded by
medics and cops.  At least he hadn't been there for the vaginal swab.  Even
so, his imagination was probably going crazy.

   Our little klatch was interrupted by Mom's tap on my door before she
opened it.  She was as naked as we were, and I saw Drindy's eyebrows
skyrocket.

   Payback!  I thought.  Maybe she'd never seen a mature woman nude before,
especially one with a Brazilian wax and a hummingbird tattoo high on the
inside of her thigh.

   "Come on downstairs and we'll figure out supper," Mom invited, in a way
I recognized as anything but an invitation.

   "Pizza!" Drindy exclaimed as I led the way out, and I heard Greg trying
to shush her.  I had to admit she did need a bit of grooming when it came
to etiquette, but attributed the outburst to an excess of enthusiasm,
especially when I heard her mutter something like "it was only a
suggestion," obviously chastened.  I'd been guilty of similar outbursts. 
She'd learn.  The love Greg had for her was unchallengeable, and she
worshipped him, and that gave me a warm spot in my heart, reminding me of
me and my brother.

   Pizza won out.  The negotiations over toppings were extraordinarily
complex, but good-natured, and in the end everyone was satisfied.  The
resulting feast was uninhibited, all of us crowded around the kitchen
table, with pizza spillover decorating naked breasts and chests and thighs
and fingers and faces.  You've heard the expression "good, clean fun?" I
wouldn't say it was clean fun, but it certainly was good fun.

   After a bit of work with paper napkins we adjourned to the living room
and chatted.  The five of us were lounging around, burping softly, when I
looked at Greg, and he looked at me, sharing that special look, and there
was a stirring at his groin, a matching moistening of my own organs.  In a
tribute to teenage procreative instincts, one minute we were lounging
around nude, sated, without a lustful thought in our minds and a few
seconds later Greg's and my reproductive organs were readying themselves
for a romp.

   "All right, you two, get a room," Elaine commented dryly, eyeing Greg's
arousal.

   "Better yet, get a shower!" Mom retorted.

   "Shower?" I asked.

   "A cold one!" Elaine suggested dryly.

   Drindy giggled.

   "It is getting late," Mom pointed out.  "And you guys are still covered
with pizza."

   "A shower sounds like a good idea to me, but not a cold one," Greg
agreed, stretching in a sinuous way that left no doubt as to his horniness.
I took the hand he was holding out to me.

   "Me, too!" Drindy was up in an instant.

   Greg looked at her.  "You are not invited."

   "She wants to watch," I explained to Mom, just in case she hadn't caught
on to Drindy's plans.  "We don't mind, but I'm not sure how her folks would
feel."

   I knew Mom would understand.  She'd finally resigned herself to the
explosive combination of my pre-teen curiosity and Carl and Beth's
not-so-latent exhibitionism.

   "A hah!" Mom said.  "I think another phone call is in order, though I
don't know exactly how I'm going to approach that with them.  Drindy, you
can help us clean up down here, and we'll clean you up, too, and then you
stand by down here while we get this watching thing sorted out with your
folks."

   That was said in what I knew to be her no-nonsense "we'll have a little
talk" tone of voice.

   "But ...  yes'm," Drindy agreed dolefully in response to Greg's warning
glare.

   As Greg and I let the rush of warm water sluice away the pizza
drippings, I suddenly got bashful.

   Urging me under the spray, Greg was already reaching for the soap and
lathering up his hands.  "Want to tell me what happened yesterday?"

   "Not really, but I guess I should." I sighed.  I turned around under the
spray, putting him behind me, so I didn't have to face him.  He didn't seem
to mind.  I'd already learned that he was really sensitive to my moods. 
His soapy hands on my shoulders felt so good, his fingers massaging the
muscles in my neck and back that had suddenly knotted up.

   Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how best to tell him.  Finally I
pretended that what happened hadn't happen to the real me, that it was to a
different me, in a different life, a different universe.  I probably could
have started "once upon a time" but I didn't, quite.  Instead I told it
third person, something I'd learned from Mr.  Turner.  That way it wasn't
me that did that stuff, it was another girl, maybe even an actress in a cop
drama.  Also, the way I told it it was only "R" rated.  I kinda glossed
over the really icky parts.

   Even so it wasn't easy, but all the time I was telling, he was soaping
down my back and arms, around my ears and neck, his hands so gentle and
soft, it felt so good it kept the demons away.  When I was done he drew me
back against him, his arms circling around me, holding me close against
him, his cheek beside mine, warm water cascading down over us.  He felt so
strong, so protective, even possessive, that I knew I was safe in his arms,
hugging his arms to me as they embraced my tummy, for a long time.  I
understood now how Peggy must have felt as she'd unburdened herself to me
there in her bathtub.

   "She was a very brave girl," he said softly in my ear, putting me back
in that safe place where once again it was just a story -- his lips
brushing my ear for a moment, and I felt better again.

   "Or very foolish," I admitted.  "She should have found a better way."

   He thought about that for a minute.  "Maybe, but when you look back on
something you often see a better way.  That's when my mom says hindsight is
twenty-twenty," he mused, "usually when she's talking about her
ex-husband."

   "Your dad?"

   "Biologically."

   By the tone of his voice there were some raw wounds behind that single
word, so I left it at that.  One thing I'd learned from John was that some
secrets are better left unshared, except maybe with a trained professional.
Meanwhile, I was feeling warm and safe enough that I wanted more.  I moved
Greg's hands from my midriff up to cup my breasts, and felt his cock
happily respond, nuzzling into the crevice of my ass.

   "Is that thing loaded?" I asked with a wiggle and a giggle.

   "You might say," he admitted, pressing it against my butt-crack, humping
a little bit.  "Be careful, it might go off prematurely."

   I rotated in his arms and tipped my head back for a kiss.  He'd grown!
He was taller than me.  Not by much, but I wasn't used to having to stretch
up at all for a kiss.  He was very obliging, however, and tilted so his
lips met mine, and we shared our breaths, already musky with the scent of
sex, stirring my lust and I squirmed my body against his, wet flesh to wet
flesh, and oh it felt so good, my nips like pebbles against his strong
chest, his cock a prod in my crotch.

   "Well, if it should happen to go off prematurely we'll just have to
reload and try again," I answered, nibbling at his lips, loving him so very
very much.

   He looked into my eyes, and I saw there desire, and love and caring, and
tenderness as his hands stroked my naked back, down, down, down to the
roundness of my ass so he could gently press me closer, his fingers
invading that private crevice, prying it open in a way that gave me a
feel-good itch back there.  Oh, his fingers were so close to my pucker, and
he hadn't sampled that opening yet.

   "Lets get out of here," I suggested.

   As we dried each other I couldn't resist playing with his cock,
fascinated by the difference between men and women and how they were
designed to fit so nicely together, like puzzle pieces, and even as I did I
felt myself yearning for the connection, in any opening.

   But what if it grossed him out?

   Maybe another time, I promised myself.

   When we found our way back to my room, Drindy was already there, sitting
in my swivel chair, still naked, of course, nervously nudging it back and
forth before spinning completely around in it.  She was a wild card dealt
from the bottom of the deck.

   "Your mom called my mom," she announced.

   "Oh oh." Greg paled.  "I bet Dad was there, too, wasn't he."

   "Uh huh.  Cell phones are so cool.  You can turn 'em up like speaker
phones."

   "Oi!" Greg grunted.  "I hope they weren't in public!"

   "But it's okay," Drindy assured us.  "Mom and Dad both want me to know,
they're just not comfortable talking about it.  And they know you're not a
virgin...."

   "Drindy!"

   "I didn't tell 'em!  Honest!  They just knew!  Anyway, I told 'em all
about the Sex Ed class you did last year, Dee, so they know you're a --
what is it Dad called it?  -- a trained professional."

   I had to laugh at that one, thinking as I did it made me sound like a
whore.  "Performing on a closed course, don't try this at home!" I added.

   "I'm not at home!  Anyway, they said I can watch, but I can't -- uh --
take part.  They said I'm too young" she grumbled.  There was a long pause.
"If it's okay with you, that is," she added reluctantly, her ponytails
seeming to droop.

   There I was, naked and ready, and I had my arm around her naked brother,
his cock rampant, you might say, and she was so hopeful.

   "About you being too young, they're right," I agreed.  "Trust me, I
know. Waiting is better.  As for watching, well, it's okay with me if it's
okay with Greg."

   The thought of her being there, watching, reminded me of how I'd watched
my brother and Beth, and how I'd felt.  My insides softened even more.  The
idea of having her as a spectator was quite a turn-on.

   "As far as I'm concerned you can stay," I assured her again, reaching
out to tug one of her ponytails.  She grinned the irrepressible grin of
hers.  I didn't add that someday I hoped I could teach her how good love
can be between two women as well, if she was interested in learning.  I
found it easy to love her in that way, but it might not work that way with
her I reminded myself.

   While all this was going on, Greg was providing his own answer by urging
me toward the bed, and suddenly that lovely, soft oasis looked more
inviting than it ever had before, and I blushed shyly.  I let him guide me.
There was no mistaking his desire for me.  He was showing more boldness
than he had in the past.  Maybe I was flattering myself, but I was thinking
now that we'd had that contact in Kathy's studio he was eager for even
more, and that was overcoming his shyness.

   As for me, I had to say I didn't at all mind him taking charge.  As we
sat on my bed courtship was quickly receding in the rear-view mirror and he
had the pedal to the metal in terms of foreplay.  Our feet still on the
floor, we embraced, and kissed, and his hand found my breasts, while mine
found his cock and measured its readiness.

   He pinched my nipples, and then you could say he was stirring the pot,
in the nicest way possible as he let his finger slither into my already
juicy tunnel, smeared my juices up the slit until he brushed my clit,
sending a jolt through me.  And all the while we were kissing, kissing,
kissing, our tongues dueling, our lips working, even our teeth scraping,
and I wanted him so much!  But I wanted it to last, and I knew he was on a
hair trigger.  And I wanted it to be for him, not just me.

   I knew what I wanted to do, but I couldn't help remembering what
Worthington had made me do, and I was afraid it would disgust me, or I'd
make a botch of it, or maybe Greg wouldn't like it....

   Don't THINK!  The Stick ordered me.  DO!

   So, I did.  Gently freeing myself from him, reluctantly displacing his
hand from my crotch, I slipped off the bed, and knelt between his feet, his
lovely, lovely cock right there in front of me, the tip already glistening
with his pre-come.

   Of course he knew what I was planning.

   Hearing no objection, I gently drew the foreskin down to fully expose
the pale purple head of his cock and I licked it, tasting his juices.  I
heard him sigh as he leaned back on his arms.  I was glad he didn't reach
for my head, that he didn't try to take control, that he was just watching
as I embraced his glans with my lips, my tongue bathing it, the taste and
smell of his pre-come stirring my own lust.

   I made tender love to his erection, making this all about him instead of
me.  Not that I didn't enjoy it, I did very much, but I let his reactions
govern my moves, concentrating on giving him pleasure.  When his hands
slipped and he lay back on my bed -- MY bed -- his arms spread wide,
leaving it all up to me, I knew it was working and took more of him in my
mouth, his hot meat sliding along my tongue.

   All the time, out of the corner of my eye, I was aware of Drindy eagerly
watching.  I sneaked a peek at her and she was fascinated, so I gave her a
wicked wink as I grinned around her brother's cock, remembering how Beth
had been when I watched my brother fucking her.  Love is so much sweeter
when it is shared.

   I drew up, slurping up his juices and my saliva, then went down on him
again, slowly and lovingly, feeling his cock respond with tremors, getting
hotter and harder, if that was possible.

   "I'm gonna...." he gasped.

   I let his dork slip from my mouth.  "I know," I said softly.  "Don't
worry, I'm sure we can stir up more ammunition when we want it."

   He grunted as my mouth engulfed him again.  He was more than ready --
cocked and loaded, you might say.  He'd been ready to let go in the shower,
and I wanted to draw his sting now, so to speak, before we engaged in the
main event.  The head of his cock nudged the back of my mouth, my nose just
barely tickled by the red curls of his bush.  I could have deep-throated
him, but that wasn't my plan.  This sweet load was going wash away the
bitterness left from yesterday.

   My fingers tickled his balls.

   "Ohhhhhh jeeez!" His hips surged.  I purred in anticipation.

   "SHIT!" His whole body knotted up.  "Ahhhh!"

   My tongue blocked the first, hot eruption short of my throat, so I
didn't choke.  Then I carefully captured every delicious succeeding spurt,
my mouth filling with his savory jizz.  Pump -- pump -- pump, his cock
squirmed in my mouth, flooding me with his hot cream, the volume of each
spurt slowly declining, but still too much, some escaping to slither down
my chin as I lifted slowly off.

   A last touch behind his balls produced a grunt from him, a clenching of
his groin wringing a final little spit of come just before I drew
completely off his dick and sat back on my haunches, pleased as the cat
that got the canary, sitting up very straight to display my slender torso,
my modest breasts with their fully alert nipples, letting him and Drindy
see my joy as I savored his semen like a gourmet meal, rolling it around in
my mouth.

   I turned slightly so Drindy could see, saw Greg raise his head, and
then, making sure they both saw, I parted my lips to show them the pearly
load, and then tipping my head back, swallowed, letting his goo slither
down my throat.  He gasped and flopped back again.  Drindy's eyes were as
big as saucers.  Using my index finger I deliberately squeegeed the
overflow off my chin, then made a show of sucking it clean, smacking my
lips.

   "And that's how it is done," I told her as I let Greg draw me up to
where he was still on his back, pulling me down into his embrace.  For a
little time we just snuggled there, me on top of him, my knees still on the
floor between his feet.  We kissed, and he didn't hesitate when I let my
lips part so his tongue could explore my mouth.

   "You taste good," he murmured.

   "Some of that is you, you know."

   "I know.  Come all the way up on the bed with me," he urged.

   "Gladly!  And let's see how our student body is doing," I giggled as we
squirmed around, ending so we were on our sides, spooning, his back against
mine.  "She's been very attentive."

   We were facing Drindy, he had one arm under me, his hand cupping a tit.
The other hand was over me, playing at my crotch, his soft, slippery dick
trapped between my thighs.

   "And that, Drindy, is how a blow job should be done," Greg told her as
he snuggled his face next to mine, kissing my ear.

   "Any questions, class?" I asked.

   She looked dubious.  "Uh, would I hafta swallow it?"

   She looked a little embarrassed, holding her hand like she was looking
for a place to wipe it off, finally settling on her naked thigh.  Her
little pussy slit was puffier, and her inner lips were just peeking out. 
Obviously she'd been playing with herself while I'd sucked her brother off.


   "No," I assured her.  "That's one of the things about sex.  You
shouldn't 'hafta' do anything you don't want to.  If your lover wants you
to do something you really don't want to do, don't do it.  If he cares
about you at all he won't try to force you.

   "But think about it.  Once you've got a mouthful of come, well, it's
kinda awkward if you don't swallow it.  You'll have to find a place to spit
it out."

   "Oh.  Yeah."

   "If I hadn't wanted your brother's come in my mouth, when he got close I
would have taken his cock out and let him squirt, maybe aiming so it went
on him, more likely so it went on me, maybe even on my face.  I've heard
guys like to see that, and I enjoy it."

   "How can you tell when he's gonna squirt?"

   "Once you have some experience you can usually tell pretty well by the
way he moves.  But if he ever says he'll warn you before he comes, don't
believe him.  That lie is older than the one about the check being in the
mail."

   "Oh." Drindy's mouth made such a cute "O" as she contemplated this.

   Meanwhile, I was thoroughly enjoying the way Greg was toying with my
twat, and feeling his cock revive between my thighs.

   "Are you gonna stay shaved?" Greg asked, his fingers stroking my pussy
with its first rasp of stubble.

   "I haven't decided.  Mom enjoys Elaine's Brazilian wax jobs.  Which do
you prefer?" I spread my thighs so he could have better access, watching
Drindy's eyes as they fastened on what he was doing.

   "Can I get back to you on that?"

   "Uh huh." He fiddled with my slit.  Oh this was fun!  "Mmmm, that feels
nice."

   "I think so, too," Greg agreed, beginning to squirm his cock between my
legs, letting it rub against my crotch, so close to both my pussy and my
asshole.

   I touched his dick as it poked its head out just below my pussy and felt
it reviving.  It swelled, extended so I could play with its soft, rubbery
knob and tease a fresh surge of lubricant from it.  "It feels to me like
you've got another round in the chamber for me.  That didn't take long."

   He grunted affirmatively.  "It's 'cause you're so sexy.  I'm ready when
you are."

   "Oh, I'm ready," I assured him, wriggling so the tip of his pecker
nudged my cunt.  "But let's not rush."

   "Are you gonna...?" Drindy gulped.  "Are you gonna fuck?"

   I gave her my evil smile.  "Would you like us to?"

   "Yeah!" There was no bashfulness with this girl, that was certain.

   I turned my head so I could kiss Greg, licked his cheek.  "Would you
like to fuck?"

   "God yes!" The fingers of one hand were playing a mad beat on the upper
edge of my pussy, drumming on my clit through the cushiony layers of my
labia, while he pinched my tit with his other hand.  His hips were working,
fucking his cock between my thighs.

   "Harder!" I grunted, pressing his fingers harder on my aching nipple. 
"Pinch it, pull on it, twist it.  Oh shit yeah!"

   At the same time I adjusted so his pecker-head was right at the entrance
to my cunt.  Drindy's eyes were riveted on my pussy, one hand was at her
crotch, her finger probing her tight little tunnel, while she was pinching
her own perky titty.  I lifted my thigh to expose my crotch even more,
spread my labia with my fingers, pressed on Greg's dick to make sure it was
going right where I wanted it, working the head in my hole.

   At one point it popped out and we had to start over again.  With him
pushing, and me squirming, I felt it slowly work its way up into my hot
twat.  I was arching my back, stretching my gut so the angle was right, so
it could drill up into me, deep, deep, deep.  This presented my tits to his
hand as well, which he took advantage of, pinching and twisting my nipples,
while Drindy watched, fascinated.

   "Oh yessss," I gasped as he penetrated, the head of his cock scraping
hard on my G spot on the way in.  "Oh God!"

   It was kind of an awkward way to connect, lying on our sides, him behind
me, but we made it work, and it gave Drindy a great look at his cock
penetrating my cunt.

   Since I'd already sucked him off he was in no hurry to come, and I was
thoroughly enjoying the process.  They say getting there is half the fun,
and they're right, though I'm not sure this is what they were talking
about. It was a case of advancing two inches, withdrawing one, then a
little deeper, and a little deeper, and a little deeper.  In the mirror on
my closet door I could see his pale shaft, ribbed with veins, as it slowly
worked its way deeper and deeper into me.

   Wanting a closer look, Drindy slipped out of the chair and crawled over
to the bed.  Her head got in the way of my view in the mirror, but having
her that close was just as good.  She could see how I was using my fingers
to rub and gently scratch the underside of Greg's cock as he slowly worked
it in and out of me.  I also teased his balls, while he toyed with my clit.
Reaching back past my head with my other hand I curled my fingers around
his neck and pulled him tight against me.

   He was looking over my shoulder, down to where his sister watched, so I
twisted my head in an attempt to kiss him.  Awkward as it was, I decided it
was a really cool way to fuck, sort of doggy style, only on our sides.  The
angles made his cock stretch me in unfamiliar directions, triggering
different nerves.

   My crazy mind headed off on a tangent as I wondered if maybe we could
talk Kathy into doing a sculpture of us doing it this way, or maybe doggy
style.

   Oh, I was such a bitch!

   I was getting close, and Greg was moving a bit faster, a little harder,
but carefully so he didn't accidentally slip out.

   What if, I thought -- oh this was so good I wanted it to go on forever
-- what if Kathy could do the sculpture as two pieces that fitted together,
even!  He could have the statue of me, and I could have the one of him, and
when we got together....  That would really be bitchin' I thought.  Or, if
she made it life-size....

   Will you please shut the fuck up!  The Stick told me as my coming
started to wash through me.

   So I did, concentrating on my coming, my cunt squeezing Greg's prick, as
he pushed harder, and deeper, until he was as far into me as he could get.
My fingertips at the base of his dick felt the first shot burst up the bore
of his cock like an express train to spray inside me, while his little
sister watched, her chin on the bed, her nose only inches from where our
bodies interlocked, straining with our orgasms, his semen filling me until
it oozed out.

   "He's coming in me," I managed to whisper to her, and she nodded.

   "I see.  I see!"

   "I'm coming, too," and that was the last coherent thing I said for quite
some time.  I did hear Drindy whimpering and realized that, while she'd
knelt there, watching intently, she'd also been masturbating.

   At some point I half woke up, still erotically entangled with Greg.  I
heard whispers, felt Drindy being lifted onto the bed with us.  I lifted my
arm so I could hug her against me.  Greg was still spooning me.  Then the
light went out and the door was softly closed and I went back to sleep.