			  Girl Scout Brookies
                            An Erotic Story
     
     Now all you people have all heard about how I got set-up by my
wife and daughter out at Camp Lotta Sticky Nookie.  Since then I've
been hiding out, worried about angry fathers beating down my door ...
Or more likely, Officer Sherry.
     So, Like Kenny, I've been pretty much hiding out in the basement,
not even calling to collect my chits from the Girl Scout Nookie Sale.
I'd already sampled every box that Karen's troop had sole me; and it
would likely take me another week or so to recover from Girl Scout
Camp ... If, that is, I ever could, in less than twenty years or so.
With likely close to 70 girls and who knows how many adult woman
(counting my wife and daughter too) all soon likely to be part of our
family, being in a family-way ....
     <Shudder.>  It doesn't bear thinking about, even though that's
long been my fantasy.  Be careful what you wish for ... You might get
it.  Like Kenny winning the prize committee itself as a prize from the
Girl Scout Bookie Sale.  Here I didn't even know there WAS a raffle of
that kind going on.   ;-{
     I didn't even dare call in chits from the previously (supposedly)
pill-protected pubescent girls in the local troop that I knew were all
eagerly awaiting my call.  I was too scared to learn exactly how many
of THEM I'd .... well, you know ... at Camp Lotta Sticky Nookie.
However, I did keep a thesaurus by the door.  Adults are ... well,
*safer* to fuck than pubescent Girl Scouts.
     After about a week or two with no angry dads beating in the door,
and only glimpses of blue uniform as Officer Sherry made her rounds of
the local perverts, I began to breathe easier.  If, no *when* all
those cute, sexy, young, female, pubescent Girl Scout tummies started
to swell, it seems nobody was going to beat my door in expecting me to
marry the girl or support her and the kid for the next twenty years
... Or so I hoped.  I was already happily married to a beautiful,
sexy, and horny woman, and had an equally beautiful, sexy, and far
more horny kid, both with my babies starting to swell their tummies.
I really didn't need seventy to eighty more women and girls in that
condition ... even though it seemed likely I was going to get them,
what I wanted or no.
     I was getting cheerier by the day; even contemplating calling in
one or two boxes of Girl Scout Nookie chits, when the doorbell rang.
     Grabbing the thesaurus (just in case.  Read "Got Beer" by Kenny
N. Gamera) I peeped out through the spyglass I'd just recently
installed in the front door, just for cases like this, where I could
see if I even wanted the people outside to know I was home before
answering the door.
     Damn ... Four cute, sexy, pubescent little Girl Scouts were
standing outside the door, "Red Ryder" wagon behind them with an
enormous red cooler filling up its interior.  But these girls and
their uniforms looked different than the ones I was used-to.
     OK ... OK!  Giggle all you want about the "uniforms" the girls at
Camp Lotta Sticky Nookie (See "Girl Scout Camp Nookies") didn't wear
during my visit there.  THESE four darlings weren't even wearing the
ultra-short little minis and form-fitting tops the local group of
Scouts all wore.  In fact, they looked a little dowdy, in comparison.
However, ANY pubescent Girl Scout looks sexy in MY eyes ... Yes, even
nicely plump ones like Allie, the girl Ball Four so rudely turned down
in "Girl Scout Nookie HSN".  It's the eagerness and willingness of the
girl (not to mention her fertility) that gets me going, not her
plumpness or skinniness.  (OK ... Lets TALK about her fertility!  Or
... Maybe better not, considering what happened up at CLSN ....)
     OK ... So I'm not too bright.  I opened the door and let the
girls in.
     "Oh wow.  So THIS is the home of that pervert Mr. Jenkins, the
other girls were telling us about," one of the girls exclaimed, while
two others dragged the sloshing cooler in the wagon inside.  I *knew*
it was a mistake letting them in.
     "Uh ... Girls," I spoke up tentatively.  "I already bought ...."
     Well, I HAD.  I waved at the big stacks of Girl Scout Cookies
already filling up half the hall.  Everything from Thin Mints (which I
love) to Shortbread (which is OK) to Peanut Butter Cookies (which I
despise) filled up just about every available nook and cranny.  Well:
Let's see YOU turn down a sexy and pubescent little girl who's just
sucked your cock or taken your swollen and cum-squirting member up her
horny little slit, and tell the kid you can't afford, "just one more
box ... Please?" while making cow-eyes at you and looking like she's
about to cry.  Just knowing the kid likes me enough to take my cum in
her belly is enough to make me a complete sucker for buying yet more
cookies that I don't need ... and all the girls know it too!  While
not *quite* buying the semi-load that I hear one of the other guys
(Russ?) did, I got socked really good anyway; contributing
considerably to the funds that allowed the girls to spend a whole
month at Camp Lotta Sticky Nookie that summer.  Yeah, I'm a sucker for
sexy little girls, and all the girls in most of the troops around here
know it.
     Including, it seems, Scouts from NOT in the immediate area.  Oh
God.
     "Oh, don't worry, Mister Perv ... uh ... Mr. Jenkins.  We're not
selling cookies any more.  The Girl Scout Cookie Sale is all over ...
Though we COULD put you down for a box or two, if you really want?"
The taller brunette looked up at me expectantly.
     I shook my head.
     "I also have enough ...," I started; thinking of the 500 or more
"boxes" of sticky Girl Scout Nookies(tm) I still had left to redeem.
After a month in Girl Scout Camp, it would take a while for my
"normal" libido to reassert itself ... Especially considering the
likely consequences of that episode.  I sweated a bit, remembering.  I
really, really, REALLY didn't need four more sexy little "Cherry
Poptarts" in the same condition.
     "Oh, don't worry about THAT, either," giggled one of the girls
... the short blonde one.  "Our Nookie sale is over too, until next
year.  Still, if you want to sign up early and reserve some, like many
of the men in our neighborhood do ...."
     Again, the girls looked at me expectantly.  For being a pretty
normal guy, word about me being a pervert sure gets around!
     Regretfully, I declined.  With my daughter's entire troop
supplying nookies now, and already promising to reserve their entire
supply of nookies for the next several year's for me, and likely yet
another month at Camp Lotta Sticky Nookie coming up again next year
after the cookie/nookie sale ... What I really didn't need was more
cookies OR nookies!  I was well-stocked with both, thank you, and I
told the girls so.
     A sigh from all four girls, as though they expected this.
     "So ... what is it you girls ARE selling?" I asked; reminded of
the Bookie sale Kenny had gotten into.
     To my panic, the four girls unbuttoned the front of their Girl
Scout uniforms, displaying red, non-bra-wearing T-shirts underneath,
with different large black letters underneath.  "We've", "Got", "What
you", "Want," announced the four-inch high letters across each girl's
firm young bosom.  Oh God.
     "Oh, not THAT," reassured the redhead.  Looking the girls over
closer, I noticed for the first time, that while all were Caucasian,
each girl had delightfully different colored hair, from the tall
brunette, the middle-sized redhead and black-haired-girl, to the short
little blonde.  "This is just leftover from *our* nookie sale, the one
we held down at the local Wall-to-Wall Mart, and sold out in one day,"
she informed me almost regretfully that the girls didn't have any more
nookies to sell me.
     "Uh ... Then ... exactly what IS it you girls are selling?" I
asked.
     "Girl Scout Brookies, of course, Silly," answered the brunette,
the spokesman for the group, with a sexy wriggle that made me regret
not being in on the sale her troop had.
     "Brookies?"  Somebody was *really* reaching with this cookie,
nookie, bookie, brookie thing, I mused.  The shit was beginning to get
a bit deep.
     "Brook Trout."
     Oh ... Suddenly sloshing cooler made sense.  "Where do you get
them?" I asked, suspiciously.
     "We cuddle them."
     "Cuddle fish?"
     "Uhuh," one of the girls explained.  "Cuddle, coddle, tickle ...
It's all the same.  We put our fingers down in the stream and wriggle
our fingers under the fish, and then when they're directly over our
hands ... Well, we just YANK them out of the water and into the cooler
we have here.  None of the other troops around do this, or have fish
to sell, so they don't mind us selling in their area."
     Oh ... "That really WORKS?" I asked.  I'd heard of such things,
but never seen anybody who claimed to be successful at it.  "How many
fish do you get that way?"
     "Uh ... only three, so far," admitted the redhead; turning almost
as red as her hair.  The Scouts opened the cooler to reveal three
really nice, about four-to-five pound brook trout swimming around in
the large plastic and foam container.
     "Uh ... Just curious ... Could you show me how you do it?" I
asked.
     The girls looked at each other.  "You won't try anything ... uh
... perverted, if we do?" one inquired.
     Huh?  I was talking about cuddling fish, not molesting pubescent
Girl Scouts.
     "We do it like this," the black-haired girl explained, reaching
up under her dress-skirt to pull aside a black silk pair of panties,
where she stuck three fingers inside and started diddling herself.  At
my look of astonishment at this erotic display, the girl blushed and
explained, "It *helps* to make your fingers smell a little fishy
first."
     Wha ... Oh God.
     Soon the girl was reaching into the bucket and twiddling her
fingers ... Then, with a sudden grab had the largest fish out of the
water and gasping for a second before dropping it back into the cooler
with a splash.  "Like *that*," she explained; breathing a bit hard,
which made her T-Shirt do interesting things.
     "Can I try it?" I asked.
     The four girls looked at each other.  "Well ... Actually,"
explained the brunette, "that's how we sell the fish.  As you can see,
we don't have a lot of them, so we sell *chances* to cuddle the fish
at five-dollars a try.  If you catch one by hand, then you keep it.
Sound fair?"
     Well ... It did.  Now I'm not much of a fish-eater, but five
pounds of trout for only five bucks sounded like quite a deal!
Besides, it had looked really EASY when the black-haired girl had done
it.  Yeah, I'm a sucker.  I went for the deal.  Should be as easy as
shooting fish in a barrel, I figured.  I mean, the cooler was only
four feet long!
     Five tries later, and twenty-five bucks poorer, but not any
richer in fish, I let the girls out; admiring their bodies and
expertise at separating poor suckers like me from money.  As I did, I
absently sucked on a fish-slimed finger that had been slightly nicked
by a fish-scale.  By two minutes later the Girl Scout Foursome had
rounded the corner, still hauling the wagon with its original full
complement of fish.
     So, that's the whole story and the exact truth about why my mouth
and fingers smelled a bit fishy when my wife got home this afternoon.
Honestly!  How ELSE would I get sticky fingers smelling like fish in
the middle of the day?  You don't think that I would ...?  With those
poor "innocent" little girls ...?
     Oh what's the use?  Nobody will ever believe me.
     <Sigh.>
