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 Dee Does HS 23[DF1] by Peregrinf

   Thank God Ms.  Andrews accompanied us into Heather's house or I don't
know what might have happened.  We let the trained professional open the
conversation, as in, like "Now, try to remain calm.  Heather has something
very important she needs to tell you," which, of course, turned her parents
pasty white right from the "now try to remain calm."

   As it was, after the initial shock, anger, and tears had been dealt with
I was relieved to be shoved out the door so Heather and her family could
undergo a crash therapy session.  God bless Ms.  Andrews.

   Considering the way I'd twisted Heather's arm I doubted she ever wanted
to see me again anyway.

   Shit!  How could I have been so cruel?

   It had to be done, The Stick kept reminding me.

   That didn't make me feel any better.  When I got home.  Mom said the
same thing while I cried on her shoulder.  Even from her it didn't help.  I
kept asking myself why do I do these things, how can I do these things?

   To which The Stick invariably replied unhelpfully with "What else could
you do?"

   Sometime in the middle of the night I finally crawled out of Mom's bed
and went downstairs so she could get some sleep.  I wound up watching a Law
and Order SVU marathon.  Since they can wrap up a case in an hour I figured
maybe I could get some tips from them that might help me get my life back
to what passes for normal.

   Then, too, watching Mariska Hargitay is a welcome distraction.  If I had
time for a fantasy life she'd have a starring role.  Think of her in a
black bustier -- and nothing else -- a whip in her hand, Mom and Elaine at
her mercy!  Yum!

   But right now I just wanted this whole thing over with.

   Now!

   Does it surprise you to learn that I am not noted for my patience?

   Probably not.

   Anyway, the whole situation explains the avenging-angel mind-set that
had me sprinting through what was supposed to be my Tuesday morning jog
with Missy.

   "Wouldja -- puff -- slow down!  Sheesh!  Puff.  What's -- puff -- what's
got -- puff -- you -- puff -- so stoked?"

   "Stuff," I answered vaguely, slowing to what felt like a snail's-pace
trot.

   "What stuff?"

   It was stuff I couldn't share with her, even under a
triple-cross-your-heart-and-swear-to-die promise to not tell anyone. 
Fortunately Missy was in love, so it wasn't hard to get her gushing about
Saturday night's amorous activities.  After returning home in time to meet
her mom's curfew, she and her date, the formerly hygienically challenged
Bud Lacey, had enjoyed some snacks and cozy moments on her family's
living-room sofa.  With her mom lurking, of course, they'd been limited to
a bit of discreet necking and petting and whispered sweet nothings, but the
dance plus that was enough to get her hormones foaming.  I just hoped she'd
keep them under better control than she had in middle school.

   The rest of the way to school I managed to keep my pace in check so I
didn't run her into the ground, but it wasn't easy.  I was fighting
adrenalin, no sleep, and five hours of Law and Order SVU.  Determined and
ready to smite the enemy I had a plan.  My mind, drawing all the elements
together, kept trying to push my feet faster so I could get to it sooner.

   Element one: Heather's dad was ready to lynch the Worm.  However, since
he was a highly respected lawyer I was sure he would instead use his legal
clout.  He was probably already kicking the DA's ass to get the wheels of
justice turning faster.

   Element two: The same person who'd escorted me to the rapist had also
escorted Heather to the same person for the same purpose more than once. 
While he hadn't taken part he had to have known what was going on inside
that closed room.

   Element three: Watching L & O SVU had suggested a way I could use that
knowledge to stoke the engine turning the wheels so they'd grind the Worm
to a pulp even sooner and more thoroughly.

   Element four: It being Tweedle Dumb's week in The Program, finding him
wouldn't be hard.  I still didn't understand why that creep hadn't been
busted for escorting me to the Worm's burrow.  Maybe it was a lack of
evidence.  I was going to change that.

   But first had to get him alone.

   No problem.  Rumor had it that so far he'd been too shy to seek relief
in front of any of his classes, so I figured he had to be stroking his
salami in private, contrary to Program regulations.  With the Lunch Bunch
providing intelligence and his skanky reputation keeping innocent
bystanders at bay I caught him red handed, you might say, by sneaking up
behind him in a bathroom stall.

   I waited 'til he was in mid-come before I knocked him off-stride by
calling him on a Program Violation.  The way he flinched it was a miracle
he didn't uproot his Schwanz -- and yeah, that's German.  It's pronounced
"shvahntz," it's vulgar, and it means just what you think it does.

   "What?  I'm usin' the girls' room like I'm s'posed to!"

   "True.  But you're not supposed to be using it for that." I pointed to
his grip on his suddenly sagging equipment, which was drooling morosely
into a wad of toilet paper.  He hastily dropped both dick and wad, but I
caught the evidence before it hit the toilet bowl and waved it in front of
him like a warning flag.

   "Naughty, naughty.  You're depriving your classmates of their
entertainment.  That's a spanking offense." I had an image of him over Mrs.
Devers's knee, with her practicing her blistering forehand on his ugly
butt. The image was so tempting it almost had me rethinking what the
committee's position should be on corporal punishment.

   But that had to wait.  I had different plans for him.  He and his dick
both drooped.  The hygiene squad was very thorough.  Having been given The
Treatment by them only the day before he was still a skank but at least he
didn't stink.  "But I might be inclined to ignore the program violation if
you cooperate," I offered.

   "Cooperate?  What?  How?"

   There were so many holes in this scheme I could have drained spaghetti
with it, but I was counting on keeping him off balance.  I was also trading
on the fact that I was in a battle of wits with an unarmed man.

   From what I'd heard from Heather last night I was sure Tweedle Dumb was
going to be moved up on the DA's "to do" list.  But I'd prefer that before
Cagney was dragged out of class, kicking and screaming, he'd be down at the
station house, rolling over on the Worm in exchange for a lighter sentence.
To do that I needed to scare the shit out of the stupid turd.

   I know, that's not the kind of cop talk you'll hear even on cable TV. 
Blame it on my temper mixed in with a Law and Order overdose.

   I was also counting on the fact that over the years he'd fallen a bit
behind, grade-wise, held back by a school and foster system determined to
get him literate before he started drawing social security.

   "How old are you?"

   "Eighteen," he admitted, scratching his shaggy head like a spaniel. 
Well, no, that's not right.  He did use his fore-paw rather than a hind
leg. "What's that got to do with anything?"

   "You knew what the Worm was going to do to me when you took me to that
room."

   "I didn't do nothin' but what he told me to do."

   That wasn't quite the answer I wanted.

   "But you knew why he wanted me and what he was going to do.  And what
did you get in return?"

   That was a shot in the dark, but it worked.

   "He gave me pichers," he admitted, instead of denying everything.  "But
I didn't get none of you."

   Pictures?!  I wouldn't put it past him to be selling them.  Shit!

   But then, how dumb could these guys be?  Not only did the DA have
Heather's diary in hand by now, Cagney could provide graphic evidence. 
Feeling sick to my stomach, I didn't ask pictures of what or who, or what
he'd done with 'em, but went on like a hard-ass detective.

   "You ever stop to think what Worthington has already told the cops? 
Wanna bet the DA already knows you helped the Worm commit felony rape? 
That creep is probably already trying to trade your ass for a lighter
sentence.  The DA's questioned you once.  I don't know why he hasn't
already busted your worthless butt, but I bet he will soon.  He's probably
working on a warrant right now."

   Tweedle Dumb was starting to sweat.  "I didn't do nothin'!"

   It was time for his reality check.  He was in deep doo-doo and needed to
know just how deep it was.

   "Yes you did.  You knew what was going to happen to me.  That makes you
an accessory," I said, carefully drawing on my late night TV tutoring while
making it very personal.  But with this moron I knew I was going have to
hit him upside the head with a two by four to get my point across.

   "It's called 'aiding and abetting in commission of a felony,' and rape
is a very serious felony, and you're as guilty as can be," I went on
ruthlessly.  "That means you'll be treated the same as if you did the
crime. We're not talking shoplifting or shaking down some kid for his lunch
money.  We're talking RAPE, which is right up there with murder.

   "So we're not talking a few months in county jail.  At eighteen you're
old enough to be charged as an adult.  That is not handled in juvenile
court, where you might only get boot camp.  They'll try you as an adult,
and you'll go to state prison, not some cushy juvie facility.  You could go
to prison for a very long, hard time.

   "Think!  You're young enough to be real attractive to the horny lifers
behind those bars.  Your ass will be their playground.  Those butt fuckers
love fresh young meat.  Worse, since a lot of 'em suffered from abuse as
children themselves they hate child abusers.  When they find out that's
what you're in for they won't know or care whether you did it or just
helped.  You'll be lucky if you get out of there alive."

   I shook my head woefully.  Watching his balls try to crawl out of sight
was very satisfying.

   "But," I went on more optimistically, "if you turn yourself in to the DA
and cooperate by telling him what you know about you-know-who and what he
did and who he did it to -- maybe even show him some of the 'pichers' --
the DA might offer to go easy on you, let you plead to a lesser charge,
maybe even offer time in minimum security where you could get your GED and
be out in a year or two.

   "If it were me, I'd hand myself over to the DA real quick, before the
cops came to get me.  Cops don't like child rapists either.  They've got
kids of their own." I crossed my fingers as I slandered our fine
constabulary.  "Shit happens.  You might even meet with an accident on the
way to jail.  But you'd better work fast.  They're probably already on
their way here.  If you can bring a lawyer along, so much the better.  With
your history I bet you already know one."

   He'd gone from red to white.  I could smell the insulation burning
between his ears.

   "Why're you telling me this?"

   "Because I want to make sure that son-of-a-bitch pays for what he did to
me, even if means you get off easy."

   The bell rang.  I studied the wad of TP with disgust.  "It's time to
go."

   Even he was smart enough to know I didn't mean to class.  I dropped the
tattle-tale TP into the toilet, gave the flush lever a hard kick. 
Serenaded by rushing water, I washed his scum off my hands at the sink and
went on my way, leaving His Dumbness to contemplate his options.  Even if
he didn't take my advice right away I was sure he'd get caught.  Now that
I'd spelled out in words of one syllable exactly what he was facing I was
confident he'd be anxious to cut a deal.

   Surprisingly, from there Tuesday went on pretty much as usual, except
Heather wasn't in school.  "Some kind of flu" was the story.  There was
speculation that she'd had a hot weekend with Mongo and was suffering a
delayed reaction.  But Heather was right about Matt.  He was discreet,
responding to questions with a knowing smile that could be interpreted any
way that floated your boat.

   I didn't see Tweedle Dumb again, either, which was a hopeful sign. 
Maybe he'd taken my advice.

   At swimming practice Greg wondered why I was so distracted.  I told him
it was "female troubles," which had him worrying he'd somehow damaged me.

   Men!  Why to they always assume it's about them?

   Still keyed up, I stayed after practice to work on my diving and it was
a disaster.  Over and over I got that "uh-oh, this is going to hurt"
feeling as I left the end of the board, and I was usually right.  I'd
strain muscles trying to save the dive.  I'd be over long, my calves
whip-lashing the water, or I'd be short and my thighs would catch it. 
Water hits back hard enough to raise bruises.  Belly-flops from high enough
have been known to cause serious internal damage, but I avoided those ...
usually.

   Coach was very patient.  I tried to tell myself I was distracted, but by
the time I called it quits I felt like I'd been worked over with a baseball
bat and was starting to buy into his assessment that I'd simply outgrown
the sport.

   Shit!

   At home that night I cooked dinner for Mom and Elaine, put liniment on
my bruises, and tried to concentrate on my homework.  All the time I was
waiting for my cell to ring, worrying about Heather, not daring to call
her. I hoped she was okay.  At last exhaustion caught up with me and, after
falling asleep at my desk and banging my head, I managed to stagger to my
bed.  At some point Mom must have come in and drawn the covers over me, but
I didn't remember it.

   The next day, having done what I could, I didn't push Missy on the run.
I was too sore anyway.  Classes and lunch went reasonably well.  Tweedle
Dumb was absent again, which gave me hope, but Heather was out, too, which
worried me.

   Then at the closing bell I was called to Mrs.  Devers's office.  It
being Wednesday that put a kink into my scheduled modeling session with
Greg and Kathy, so I hoped to make it quick, thinking Devers wanted to give
me some suggestions about what I should say at Saturday's dedication of the
"Spirit" statue.  Instead I found Heather waiting for me, looking what was,
for her, very second hand -- unkempt hair, no makeup, dark circles under
eyes that looked like they were bleeding.

   My body went on high alert.  I wanted to reach for her, while thinking
that I was about to be consigned to her scrap heap.  Somehow I managed to
respond to a gesture from Devers and shut the door behind me, cutting off
the racket in the hall.  The next thing I knew Heather was wrapped around
me, tears flowing like a river, and for the longest time all I could do was
stand there, and hold her, and soothe her.  When I looked over her shoulder
at Mrs.  Devers through my own tears the vice principal had a sweet, sad
smile on her face.

   When Heather started to run down and drew back a little, tried to talk,
choking out "I'm sorry" I grabbed her by the ears and shut her up with a
full-bore, no-holds-barred kiss, tasting her tears and her snot,
contributing my own secretions to the mix as I did.  Once we broke the
first big smack I kept telling her that I was the one who was sorry, that
it was all right, all between gentler kisses and lots of tears, stroking
her hair.

   Eventually we settled in chairs across from Mrs.  Devers, holding hands,
Heather choking up whenever she tried to say anything.

   "She spent yesterday at the District Attorney's office," Mrs.  Devers
explained while Heather soaked a solid stream of tissues between the box on
the desk and the wastebasket.  "She tells me there have been developments
that she thought you'd like to know."

   "I'm just glad to know she's okay."

   "She told me what you did."

   "I didn't do anything," I protested.

   "Did too!" Heather snorted out.

   "I didn't!  You did what you knew you had to do."

   "And I suppose the three other girls turning up aren't your fault
either?" Mrs.  Devers asked.

   "What three other girls?  I don't know what you're talking about!"

   "'cause of you, and Daddy, I talked 'em into coming with me." Heather
snuffled.  "I knew he'd done it to them, too."

   That meant three more families for Ms.  Andrews to try to piece back
together.  Shit.

   "I had nothing to do with that!" I protested.

   "Did too!" Heather insisted.  "You started it!"

   Mrs.  Devers interrupted before it turned into one of those silly
"did-didn't" squabbles.

   "And I suppose you had nothing to do with Mr.  Cagney turning up at the
DA's office yesterday about the same time a couple of policemen showed up
in the school office looking for him?" She cocked a skeptical eyebrow at
me.

   "Uh." I sought a way to shift the blame, but couldn't, so I went for
distraction, not that Devers would fall for that.  "How's your mom and dad
taking it?" I asked Heather.

   She was down to sniffles.  "Mom cries a lot and doesn't want to let me
out of her sight.  She's out in the parking lot right now, so I can't stay
long.  I just wanted to tell Mrs.  Devers and you what was going on.

   "Daddy's got the DA on the warpath.  Daddy, he's furious, but not with
me, or with you.  He's pushing the DA hard, telling him to keep all our
names out of the news while making sure <<choke>> -- you-know-who --
<<choke>> gets what's coming to him." <<SNUFF>>

   "Daddy also says he's going to turn most of his cases over to his
partners, right away, so he won't be traveling so much, at least for a
little while.  That'll be nice." She managed a tearful smile.

   "I didn't...." I trailed off.  I didn't know what to say.  Apparently
I'd succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.

   "Dee, you dropped a pebble into the pond and the waves are still
spreading," Mrs.  Devers said softly.  "Thank you."

   "She th -- th -- thr -- thr -- threw a whole fucking rock!" Heather
stuttered, on the verge of tears again.

   "She does make waves, doesn't she?" Mrs.  Devers allowed wryly.

   All I could do was hang my head and tie my fingers into knots in my lap.


   "Dee." Mrs.  Devers said it so softly I lifted my head.  "The DA tells
me that the rock you've thrown will sink Worthington for good.  He won't
dare let it go to a trial.  He'll take whatever the DA offers, no fuss, no
bother.  Mr.  Cagney will probably get juvenile boot camp in spite of his
age.  It'll do him good.  There's hope for that boy."

   Her smile was gentle "It needed to be done."

   I nodded reluctantly.

   "But I'm glad you're not gloating," she concluded.

   "I don't want anyone to know it was me," I whispered.  I'm not entirely
sure why I felt like that, but I did.  I just wanted to go back to being
me. "And I'm sorry I was so mean to Heather.  It's just -- I was so mad
that he might get away with it!  I am sorry, Heather, I really, really am.
Can you forgive me?"

   Her head wobbled, I think it was a yes.  "You were right.  You did what
you had to do, giving me the push I needed.  I owe you." She snuffed again.
"I gotta go."

   She got up and reached for me, and I got up to welcome her hug.  With
her warm softness in my arms all I could think was, oh please, not that
damned "I owe you" thing again.  Coercing her the way I had was probably
one of the most selfish and cruel things I'd ever done in my life.

   Mrs.  Devers broke into the love-fest.  "As far as I'm concerned, all
this stops right here.  There'll be rumors, there always are, but we'll do
our best to shut them down.  The DA feels the same." She sighed.  "But,
this won't be the end of it.  There are bound to be repercussions, plus
we'll need to do something to make sure something like this doesn't happen
again.  But that doesn't concern you.  That's my problem, and the
school's."

   I nodded, and looked at the clock.  "C'n I go now?  I'm s'posed to be
modeling for Kathy." All I wanted at the moment was to get out of there and
lose myself in the sexy and distracting limbo of posing with Greg.

   As we headed for the door I managed to thank them for letting me know
what had happened.  Before I opened it Heather gave me another hug and a
kiss.  "Thank you.  We need to talk."

   I nodded, and escaped, a little dazed.  I wondered if maybe she'd like a
sleep-over talk.  That seemed like a good idea, even if it resulted in
nothing more than a soothing snuggle.  I made a quick stop at the nearest
bathroom to wash my face with cold water and pull myself together.

   At the studio Greg and Kathy were waiting patiently for me, already in
their skin.  I was surprised to see Henry Carver and his seeing-eye dog
Dity with them.  He was naked, too.  Nice bod!

   "Sorry I'm late, I was with Devers," I explained, dropping my backpack
and quickly stripping before I greeted them all, insisting on full hugs,
even with Dity, her bristly German-shepherd fur warm and scratchy against
my bare tits as she licked my face, probably after the salt of my tears. 
Henry's hands wandered over me and I wondered what it was like for him,
"seeing" me that way.

   "Program stuff?" Greg asked after a long, sweet kiss and strong embrace.


   "In a manner of speaking.  How do you want us?" I asked Kathy,
deliberately deflecting any more questions.

   "On the stage, female superior," she answered.

   "Goody!" I liked being on top.  "But I'm gonna need some foreplay," I
apologized.  Used to be I'd get wet just thinking about fucking Greg.  The
change worried me.

   "So do I," Greg agreed.

   "Suits me," Kathy agreed, getting her stuff ready, uncovering the rough
clay preliminary work.

   As Greg and I re-familiarized ourselves with each other's erogenous
zones I wondered how this was going to work out.  Sure, there were two guys
and two girls, but Kathy was gay, Greg was straight, and I was bi.  I had
no idea what Henry's orientation was.  What if he was gay and put a move on
Greg?  How would Greg deal with that?  We could spend hours debating who
would to what with whom.

   Then I reminded myself that we were here to pose for Kathy's project,
and Henry was presumably here to help her, so probably nothing would
happen.

   In a pig's eye!  The Stick retorted, reminding me how Henry "saw" his
models.

   Oh boy!  That thought, plus Greg's fingers and kisses, got my juices
flowing.

   "You two about ready?" Henry asked.

   Of course!  He couldn't see how Greg was doing, which was just fine and
upstanding.

   "Just about," I assured him, "but I need a taste."

   If you think that by now I had any reservations about being watched --
well, where have you been?  I went down on my knees, fingered Greg's
increasingly happy pecker and slipped it into my warm mouth, loving the
taste of his swelling meat.  Even if we were on the fifty yard line at the
Rose Bowl game during half-time I'd take his dick in any opening he wanted,
and love it.  I have no shame.

   Greg's fingers combed through my new hairdo and he sighed as his prick
continued to expand to fill my mouth from my lips to the back of my throat.


   "Not too much!" Kathy warned, and I knew what she meant.

   "Shit!" Greg grunted as I reluctantly drew away.

   "Come on, lover, it's going to be interesting to see how long we can
make this last," I said as he lay back on the stage-like platform draped
artistically with a white sheet.  I straddled him, about to settle myself
on his more than ready cock when Kathy stopped me.

   Now it was my turn to groan as Kathy and Henry both came over.  Their
hands were warm as they guided our moves.  I looked down as Kathy lifted
Greg's hard-on.  Henry's touch in the small of my back moved me forward
over it.  To get my arms out of their way I put my hands behind my head.  I
was up on my knees, hovering over Greg's lap.  My tits were so hard they
hurt.

   Dity was off to one side, grinning and panting as she watched, the
bitch.

   Wouldn't you know it?  Both Henry and Kathy were touching both my pussy
and Greg's cock, as they aligned things.  Kathy's eyes were inches away
from my crotch.  Working strictly by touch, of course, Henry was guiding
Kathy's fingers as they both explored my hungry crotch and Greg's dork. 
Greg was panting a little, the head of his pecker just barely touching my
inner petals, while Henry had a hand under my butt, keeping me from
impaling myself on it.

   "You guys are driving us crazy!" I protested.

   Henry shushed me as his fingers and Kathy's explored where Greg and I
were touching.  They had a delicacy that was positively maddening!  Henry's
fingers read surfaces as subtle as Braille, to say nothing of my lips, my
ears, my tits, my pussy, even my nostrils when he wanted to "see" me.  Now
they were tracing where the head of Greg's hard-on tickled the weeping
folds of my pussy.

   Someone touched my clit and I flinched like I'd grabbed a hot wire.

   "Sorry," Kathy apologized.

   "You are not!" I scolded.

   She giggled.  "Well, no, not really."

   "Shush!" Henry scolded us both.

   "Jesus Christ!" Greg swore.  "Hurry up, would you?"

   That made me giggle, which made me quiver, which tickled my pink and I
thought I was going to melt down into a puddle.

   Then, with Kathy on my right, and Henry on my left, they gently eased me
down using touches where my thighs met my pelvis, at the same time guiding
Greg's dork at a snail's pace into my ravenous twat.  All I could do was
arch my back and roll my head, my fingers interlaced behind my skull as my
cunt was forced to accept Greg's penetration excruciatingly slowly.  At one
point Henry shifted the palm of Kathy's hand low on my tummy and pressed
down on it.  Could she actually feel Greg's cock working its way up into my
gut?  Jeez!  This was a whole new form of voyeurism and exhibitionism!

   What were they doing?

   I knew.  I knew from the first time Henry had helped her this way, using
his own blindness developed skills as a teaching tool.  He was making sure
Kathy understood, both visually and tangibly, how Greg and I fitted
together.  She would take away the touch memory and transfer it to the
cool, moist clay of her statue.  It was part of the reason her sculptures
were so incredibly lifelike.  I knew, too, that she was applying the same
lessons to her paintings and drawings.

   I gave a deep sigh when I was finally fully seated on Greg's cock.  Or
perhaps that should be that Greg was fully seated within me?

   No matter.  I was exquisitely filled, his thick, long rod stretching my
hot, wet cunt, his cock intimately embraced by my warm flesh.  We were as
one.

   One of the things I loved about being astride him this way was how
deeply he penetrated, the head of his cock nudging the tender mound of my
cervix, its little crater the very gate to my womb.  When he came -- oh,
just sooner or later he HAD to come -- I knew I'd feel the hot injection of
his semen deep, deep, deep inside me, like lava.  It was all I could do to
keep from lifting and settling to stroke an eruption from him and trigger
my own coming.  It wouldn't take much.  Just a little....

   "Okay, Dee, you can bring your arms down.  Let your hands just rest on
your thighs," Kathy ordered, a hand on my naked thigh to immobilize me, and
I realized I'd had my eyes closed for I don't know how long as I'd fought
the urge to bring us off.  I wondered if Henry, being blind, experienced
sex this way.  Undistracted by sight he'd be able to concentrate completely
on the feel of how his body meshed with a woman's, listening to the sighs
and groans, smelling the lush, musky scent of unbridled lust.  Maybe I
should try it blindfolded sometime.

   "And Greg, you bring your hands up to Dee's tits," Henry suggested. 
"When he does, Dee, you lean into him just a bit, let him support you."

   Meanwhile, Henry's hands were moving over my ribs, tracing the line of
my body, straightening my spine with a feathery touch.  Ah God this all
felt sooo gooooood!  Greg's hands were warm and strong as they cupped the
soft, shy mounds of my breasts, my nipples boring into his palms.  I swear
I could even feel the roughness of his finger and palm prints on my tender
skin.

   It was the most natural thing in the world for me to tip my head back a
little, as if I were gazing off into the distance.  Beyond the gauzy
curtains I saw the shadows of people walking past the windows.  Closing my
eyes I abandoned myself totally to the experience.  My pussy, gently
pulsating, contracting around Greg's cock, was the only muscle moving.  I
fantasized that I could even feel the pulse of the veins in his cock until
our hearts were beating as one.

   "How long do you think you can hold it?" Kathy asked, her voice receding
as she went to her clay.

   "Forever, I wish, but I can't speak for Greg."

   "Forever won't happen," Greg grunted, his gut muscles clenching.

   Men!  They're so impatient!

   "What if I start to go soft?  What should I do?"

   I tightened and relaxed my cunt.  "Does that help?"

   "Jesus yes!" he gasped.

   "Go easy," Henry cautioned.  The blind sculptor was still right beside
us and I felt his fingers stroking the satin skin just above my pussy. 
"You're very smooth here, just a faint sign of bristle.  What did you do?"

   "I got waxed last Friday, before the Homecoming dance.  I'm told I'll
need another waxing in two or three weeks, maybe."

   "You sound like you're looking forward to it," Greg said.

   "Yeah, I am.  Maybe next time you can watch," I offered with a soft
giggled.  "Even help."

   I felt his reaction inside me and knew the idea appealed to him.

   "Doesn't it hurt?" he asked.

   "Oooyeah," I agreed, remembering that wonderful sting as the hairs were
uprooted.  "But in a nice way.  The cosmetician made me come at the end."

   "I wish I'd been there to help." He is such a sweetie!

   "So," Kathy said, "have you decided what you're going to say at the
unveiling of Henry's statue?"

   "You heard about that, huh?" I welcomed the distraction, since it took
the edge off my arousal.  "Are you going to be there?"

   "Of course!  I wouldn't miss it for the world.  Henry came all the way
from Chicago to be here."

   Of course he'd be there.  He was the sculptor, but I couldn't help
wondering -- if Henry could make it from Chicago, maybe Carl could from
Palo Alto?  Or even Beth from Cambridge?  I couldn't help asking her who
else might be there Saturday.

   "I can't say for sure," Kathy answered, sounding distracted, and my
hopes wilted.

   I so wanted to see Carl, and Beth.  They knew what I'd been going
through, thanks to email and chat, even phone calls.  They'd both offered
to come home, but Mom and I insisted they should concentrate on their
studies.  Both of them were carrying tough schedules, while Carl was also
on the swimming team.  Beth had joined a singing group and was modeling for
the art classes in addition to her pre-med stuff.  That meant waiting until
they got Christmas vacation.  What a party that would be!

   I still had no idea whether Mom had her usual birthday surprise brewing
or not.  What with everything that had happened and now planning the move
in with Elaine she couldn't possibly have had the time.

   But then I realized that Kathy hadn't definitely said that Carl and Beth
wouldn't be here to see the statue of Beth unveiled, only that she
"couldn't say" and I felt my hopes revive a little.  And she'd hesitated
before she'd answered.  Maybe...?

   "So, what are you going to say at the unveiling?" Greg asked, wriggling
a little, distracting me from more immediate concerns.  Feeling him start
to soften I squirmed delicately to stimulate his cock.

   "I'm not sure yet," I admitted.  "Something about The Program, of
course."

   "Of course," Kathy agreed.  "Weren't you one of the first to grow up in
a Program household, so to speak?"

   Okay, time out for a moment.  How bizarre was this?  There I am, my
boyfriend's cock docked in my twat, struggling to hold off my own orgasm
while keeping him hard enough but not too hard, and we're discussing my
youth with a brother who had been running around school naked, one of the
first of any generation to be so -- uh -- honored, and I'm trying to come
up with an idea for a speech in two days.

   Fuck!  Talk about multi-tasking!

   "I hadn't thought of that.  I guess you could say so.  Carl was in that
first group to be naked in school with Karen Wagner, so yeah."

   "What was it like for you, the first time you saw him naked?" Henry
asked.  He was back by Kathy, helping guide her fingers as she shaped the
clay that showed me and Greg en flagrant.

   "It was -- like wow!" I admitted.  I remembered how I'd deviled him that
first time Beth had come by to ask if he'd like to go for a walk with her.
Carl and I had struck a deal that he had to stay naked until bedtime, and I
refused to let him off the hook.  He was ready to kill me, but a little
birdie later told me they'd kissed, right there on the street -- him naked
her dressed.

   I'd been such a tease!

   I remembered, too, the first time I'd been naked in front of him -- it
was my idea -- and then with Mom naked, too.  It had been so exciting to
feel the air touching me all over, knowing he was seeing all of me, my
silly little nipples trying to bulge like real tits, the hairless cleft of
my childish little pussy hiding shyly between my naked thighs.  And I was
seeing his incredible dick, knowing that someday some guy with one like it,
maybe even bigger, would stick his up inside me, just like Greg's was now.
I remember how the idea had scared me and excited me and made me feel
things I'd never felt before.

   Of course back then I really had no idea just how wonderful it would
feel.

   I groaned.

   "What's the matter?"

   "I wanna come.  Please can I come now?" I was concentrating so hard on
holding my orgasm off I was squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth.

   "Wait, just a moment," Henry answered.  "Kathy, quick, we need to wash
our hands.  We need to feel this."

   I heard the sink water running.

   What?!

   Then I jerked.  Oh my God!  Now they were touching me!  They were going
to FEEL me come?

   Holy shit!

   "Go for it," Kathy said softly, her breath hot on my ear, her warm hand
at my crotch.

   That was all it took.  That lit my fuse.  I had to move, Kathy's hand
riding along, her fingers right where Greg's prick vanished inside me. 
Leaning forward a little for better leverage, I rose.  She had her other
hand on my butt, a finger rudely invading the crack of my ass, prodding my
asshole.

   Did you know that artists, especially sculptors, have very strong hands?
Well, my butt can now testify that they do.  There was absolutely no way I
was going to be able to hold back this orgasm, and I sure as hell didn't
want to.

   I slammed back down on Greg -- again -- and again -- hammer blows that
struck sparks from my clit.

   Henry and Kathy were just as involved in our coming as it was possible
to get without being inside us.  Greg rose like the tide, lifting me,
Henry's hands on my belly and back, steadying me as I rode my lover, my
stallion a bucking bronco between my gripping thighs.  His hot come pumped
up into me and our artist/spectators were full participants, feeling the
spasms driving Greg's every jet into the welcoming clenching of my cunt. 
Henry had to be feeling my tummy convulsing, the hot orgasmic flush
blossoming up my torso, while Greg's cock pulsed and pulsed repeatedly
against Kathy's fingers, his hot cream swiftly overwhelming my stuffed
cunt, a thick paste spilling down to soak his bush.

   I was rigid, every muscle straining, oblivious to everything but my
coming.  I didn't have a clue what I was going to say at the unveiling, or
who was going to be there, or even if I was going to have a birthday party,
and frankly I didn't give a shit.  [DF1]