Please note: All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Please keep in mind the difference between fantasy and reality.



Jeremy - Chapter 8 - The Opposite of a Honeymoon
pedo Fb
Written by Janus
Copyright 2016



Index to all chapters of the Jeremy series.

My non-Jeremy stories (Mg) can be found here.



“Jeremy. Wake up.”

Not expecting a response, Pam strode into his darkened room and pulled open the curtains. A bright shaft of sunlight instantly illuminated the room. The sound of Jeremy's persistent alarm clock filled the air, but the eleven year old lay still beneath his tangle of sheets. His face was hidden under a pillow, but the lower half of his body was visible, particularly his leg that was dangling off the side of the bed.

“I really don't understand how you can sleep like that,” Pam commented, yanking away the pillow. The sunlight now landed squarely on his face, making Jeremy groan as he squinched his eyes shut from the sudden brightness. He feebly tried to pull his sheets up to cover his face, but she pulled that away as well.

“Jeremy, you're going to be late for school,” announced Pam. The sound of his alarm clock was driving her crazy so she randomly punched some buttons until it stopped.

“Don't wanna go school today,” Jeremy mumbled.

“That's not up to you,” Pam sighed. “Look, I am not driving you to school if you miss the bus again this morning. You're going to be in big trouble. And not just with me because your mom is going to be super mad too. You better be at the breakfast table in fifteen minutes. Understand? Washed, dressed, and at the table in fifteen.”

Jeremy moaned and pulled the sheets over his face. In doing so, his midsection slipped into view as the bedsheets rose up, revealing his underwear and an unmistakable bulge. Pam let herself stare for a moment before guiltily placing Jeremy's pillow on top of his boyhood, effectively erasing it from her view.

Pam cleared her throat. “Don't make me come back again to wake you up,” she warned. “Fifteen minutes.” As she left his room, Pam was relieved to see him groggily sit up in bed. Jeremy, she had discovered, was not at all a morning person. Every weekday was a battle to get him out of bed.

Since his mom often worked the overnight shift at the hospital, it was Pam's responsibility to get Jeremy ready for school each morning. She had thought nothing of it when Kate asked her to take care of it. Pam had a made a fatal error, however, in overestimating the maturity of eleven year old boys.

She was setting the table (a bowl of Cheerios for him and an English muffin for herself) when Jeremy stumbled into the kitchen. His bare feet slapped against the kitchen tile. Though he was wearing the light blue polo shirt of his school uniform, Jeremy was still in his underwear.

Pam resisted the urge to raise her voice. “Where are your pants?” she asked patiently.

“I don't know,” Jeremy said. “I couldn't find them. Do you know where they are?”

“What did you do with them yesterday when you got home from school?”

Jeremy shrugged and sat down in front of his Cheerios. “I don't know.”

Pam sighed as she handed him the carton of orange juice. (Jeremy inexplicably refused to eat his Cheerios with milk in the morning. Pam had been appropriately horrified the first time she saw him drown his cereal in orange juice, but this no longer fazed her.) “All right, I'll look for them,” she conceded. “Just eat your breakfast. Please?”

Returning to his room, Pam began the hunt. She started with his dresser drawers, opening each one. The clothes she had neatly put away yesterday were untouched, so she knew the pants weren't there. His closet was next. Upon opening its door, Pam immediately leapt backward to avoid an avalanche consisting of comic books, a pair of battered shin guards, four boxes of matches, a trumpet, and an unboxed roll of aluminum foil which immediately unfurled across the floor.

“Pam?” Jeremy called from the dining room. “Don't look in my closet, okay? I already checked there. Plus it's kind of messy in there.”

“Okay!” Pam gritted her teeth. Here was another mess to clean up later. She checked his still-mussed bedsheets. No pants. Under the cushions of his armchair? No pants. Pam was about to climb onto the chair and check the top of his bookcase when she spied a familiar shade of gray that peeked from underneath the bed's mattress. Triumphantly, she tugged free the pair of schoolpants.

She shook them out as she returned to the dining room. They were terribly wrinkled, but that couldn't be helped. “I found them under your mattress,” Pam began. “Honestly, Jeremy, how on earth did they get down th-” Her voice trailed off when she saw Jeremy using his mom's iPad as a calculator and frantically scribbling numbers into a notebook. His bowl of Cheerios was untouched. He looked up guiltily when she entered but didn't put down his pencil.

Pam felt her blood pressure rising. “Are you doing your homework?” she asked.

“Um, it's just a few math problems that I didn't finish last night,” he answered, not looking at her.

“Okay, first of all: you know you're not allowed to use a calculator for math homework,” Pam said, closing the iPad. “And, secondly, you're not supposed to use your mom's iPad without asking first.”

“But these math problems are really hard,” Jeremy protested. “Could you help? What's 156 divided by 12?”

“Thirteen,” she answered. “Why didn't you finish your homework last night?”

“Wow, really? Thirteen?” Jeremy was eagerly writing down the answer. “How did you do that so fast in your head? Are you secretly a robot?”

“Answer the question, Jeremy. Why didn't you finish last night?”

“Well...” he nervously chewed the eraser on his pencil. “You know... Ashton texted me last night and told me to get online because a bunch of guys were having a Call of Duty tournament, and I think there were some high school boys playing because they sounded older and they were real jerks to us and...”

“You can stop now.” Pam massaged her temples. “Why were you playing video games all night? I specifically said you could only play video games if you had finished your homework and you told me that, yes, in fact, you had completed your homework.”

“Well, yeah,” Jeremy shrugged. “I figured I could finish at breakfast. Plus I knew you wouldn't let me play if I said I wasn't done.”

The urge to strangle him was overwhelming. “Jeremy, this is a big deal. You can't just lie to me and...”

“Oh no!” Jeremy's eyes went wide. “The bus is here!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Pam caught a glimpse through the living room window of something yellow streaking down the street. “Shi-” Pam exclaimed, catching herself just in time. She threw his school pants in his lap. “Get dressed. Hurry!”

As Jeremy fumbled with his pants, Pam hurried to the refrigerator and grabbed the lunchbag she had prepared for him last night. “Where's your backpack?” she demanded. Before he could answer, she found it under the table. She stuffed the lunchbag inside his backpack, then thrust it at Jeremy. “Pack your school stuff,” she commanded. “I'll get your shoes.”

Jeremy began frantically cramming his textbooks in his backpack. In his haste to grab his math notebook, he accidentally overturned a coffee mug, sending a torrent of fragrant black liquid onto the pages of his homework.

“Oh man!” Jeremy gasped. “Mrs. Tillman is gonna kill me!” He snatched the dripping pages and shook them a moment before dropping them back on the table. “Ouch, that's hot! Hot!” When blowing on his fingers didn't alleviate the pain, Jeremy took to waving his hands in the air... and knocked over the carton of juice. A flood of orange gushed across the table, thoroughly soaking the iPad before flowing over the edge of table and onto the floor.

“Oh man!” Jeremy repeated. “My mom is gonna kill me!”

Pam stared at the mess of spilled coffee and orange juice. A mere ten minutes ago, this space had been immaculately clean. “Never mind. I'll clean this up later,” she said to him through clenched teeth. Gingerly, she picked up the iPad and shook the orange juice off it. “Your homework will dry off if you let it hang in your locker.” She helped him put on his backpack while he crammed his feet into a pair of beat-up dress shoes. Pam noticed with dismay that his hair still stuck out in all directions. “Couldn't you at least have combed your hair?” she asked, licking her fingers and trying to fix his bedhead. “Forget it. Go, go! The bus is waiting at the corner!”

“Wait,” Jeremy said. “Have you seen my iPod? I need it becau-”

“Go!” Pam thundered, opening the front door. She watched as Jeremy began running for the bus stop. They had forgotten to zip his backpack so it flopped pitifully with each step. He was barely twenty feet from the door when she noticed he wasn't wearing socks.

“Fuck shit fuck!” Pam whirled and hurried to his bedroom. The school had a very strict dress code, and it was not uncommon for them to send home improperly attired students. Having forgotten about the mess in his room, Pam nearly broke her neck as she slipped on the aluminum foil that had unrolled across the room. She caught herself just in time to avoid a faceplant into the hardwood floor. Grabbing a pair of white socks from his dresser drawer, Pam dashed down the hallway toward the front door.

As she passed the breakfast table, she noticed his untouched bowl of Cheerios. “Aw, Christ...” she muttered. She opened a kitchen cupboard and grabbed the first thing she saw: a strawberry Pop-Tart. They were meant as a weekend treat (Kate frowned upon too much sugar), but surely this qualified as an emergency.

Barreling out the front door, Pam's bare feet slapped painfully on the hard sidewalk as she sprinted to the bus stop. It was a spectacularly hot day for late August. The air, heavy with humidity, felt like jelly in her lungs. In the distance, she could see Jeremy about to climb aboard the waiting bus. “Jeremy, wait!” she shouted.

He turned around, surprised to see her. “Did you find my iPod?” he asked excitedly.

Pam, panting too hard to answer, instead held up the pair of socks. Along with the Pop Tart, she crammed them into his backpack and properly zipped it shut. “Put... on... socks... before... get... to... school...” she wheezed. “Eat too... kay?”

“Thanks Pam!” Jeremy said, climbing onto the bus. “Good remembering! My mom would be pretty mad if I got sent home with another principal's note.”

Pam was bent over, standing with her hands on her knees, but she managed a weak wave. “Oh crap...” A sudden realization hit her. “I didn't change into regular clothes this morning.” Embarrassed, she wondered how many people had seen the crazed woman, clutching socks and a Pop-Tart, sprinting after the school bus in her sleepwear. Not only that, but her reward for the twenty second sidewalk dash was a thin sheen of perspiration that made her form-fitting tank top cling to her body.

“Oh crap! I'm not wearing a bra either!”

Glancing up, Pam saw a row of curious faces watching her from the bus windows. There was a group of boys about Jeremy's age who were ogling her, each one with barely suppressed grins. With as much dignity as she could muster, Pam brushed aside the matted hair that clung to her sweaty face and folded her arms across her front. It really didn't help that her chest was still heaving from being so out of breath. She was about to start walking back to the house when the bus driver called out to her.

“Have a good day!” he waved through the school bus door. Pam recognized the smirk on his face as the same one sported by the young boys. All she could do was nod in acknowledgment and fake the slightest smile. She was never so grateful to hear the engine squeal as the bus slowly pulled away.

Once she was safely ensconced behind the Praters' front door in the air conditioned house, Pam could feel the sweat magically evaporate from her skin. It was as if she had just surfaced from a deep underwater dive. Her lungs savored the refreshing cool air. She took a moment to recover, then changed into her regular clothes.

Once she was properly attired in a pair of shorts and t-shirt, Pam turned her attention to the aftermath at the breakfast table. The situation was grim. The spilled coffee formed small puddles among the dishes while a slow trickle of orange juice dripped from the table to the floor. The sticky iPad appeared to be a lost cause, not even responding when she pressed the home button. Shaking her head, Pam set it aside and focused her attention on the rest of the mess. Soon there was a lurid collection of brown and orange napkins littering the table. Pam had just mopped up the last of the coffee when a stray teardrop fell on the table.

While this morning had been unusually hectic, the truth was that it wasn't too far off from any other day. After eight weeks of officially signing on as the nanny, Pam couldn't recall a single morning that was calm and civilized. Every day started with drama and, if she were unlucky, ended with it too. Her hopes had been pinned on the start of the school year as a turning point but, if anything, things were even more difficult now.

Pam wiped her wet cheek with her wrist. “Buck up,” she told herself. Her to-do list was a long one today. Vacuuming. Meal prepping. More laundry. Dishes. Through the kitchen window, she could practically see the hazy heat rising from the ground. Pam made a mental note to water the garden and lawn as well.

She trudged downstairs to the laundry room, feeling in the dark for the light switch. The overflowing hamper of clothes seemed to mock her. In a way, she had brought these chores upon herself. Kate originally had subscribed to an extensive housekeeping service that Pam persuaded her to cancel. After all, didn't it make more sense for Pam to help out instead of sitting around all day? While part of her volunteered for altruistic reasons, Pam was ashamed to admit that she had an ulterior motive: she could be assured of more privacy with Jeremy if a housekeeping crew was not present.

And therein lay the greatest irony. In the eight weeks since she had moved in, there had been a a long and frustrating dry spell. Absolutely nothing had happened between the two of them since the day of his birthday. It was as if a higher power had decided to downgrade their R-rated relationship to a family friendly G.

Babysitting Jeremy had been one thing. Living with him, she discovered, was an altogether different affair. As his babysitter, Pam had been the epitome of fun. His parents, feeling guilty about not spending enough time with their son, afforded him a great deal of leeway during babysitting time. Meals generally consisted of pizza while Jeremy was free to watch horror movies and stay up as late as he wanted.

But now that she was with him 24/7, the formula was completely reversed. All too often, Pam found herself in the role of the bad cop. She had to make him clean his room. She had to put her foot down when he wanted brownies for dinner. She had to remind him to hang up his towel after showering. She had to insist that he not wear the same pair of underwear. Day after day after day.

You learn a lot by living with someone. But none of this really should have come as a surprise. Pam had seen glimpses of Jeremy's stubbornness when she babysat him, but now she was experiencing it in its full force. Things went well when he applied himself, but that required a combination of motivation and authority that Pam hadn't figured out yet.

She turned on the washing machine and measured out a cupful of detergent. The reassuring white noise of running water filled the room. Pam tossed light colors aside for a separate load, then she carefully went through all the pockets before throwing the clothes in the machine. No matter how often she reminded him, Jeremy invariably forgot to empty his pockets before discarding his clothes in the laundry chute. Today, she found a pocket knife, four Jolly Ranchers (all watermelon flavored, his favorite), a crumpled $5 bill, his missing iPod, a dozen packets of pepper, and an inexplicable stack of Post-It notes with a different girl's name on each one.

Pam recognized the names as some of his classmates. There were at least a dozen names, each one scrawled in Jeremy's distinctive handwriting. Unable to contain her curiosity, Pam flipped through the stack of Post-Its, wondering if her name would be included. Nelly... Katie... Julie... Amanda... Kristin...

It was not. Ruefully, Pam closed the lid of the washing machine with a dull thud. Perhaps she was she being a little silly with this jealousy and possessiveness of an eleven year old boy. “Who knows?” she thought to herself. “For all I know, this is a list of girls he hates.”

She returned to the kitchen to load up the dishwasher. Once she was done with that, Pam wondered what to serve for dinner that night. The fridge held an assortment of salad greens, a loaf of sandwich bread, homemade hummus, leftover grilled chicken, and a collection of fresh vegetables from the farmer's market. Tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers... Pam wondered if Jeremy would eat gazpacho.

After forty-five minutes of chopping, blending, and straining, Pam was carefully sliding an oversized bowl of rosy pink hued soup into the refrigerator. “There's one less thing to worry about,” she thought gratefully. “And if he doesn't like it then he can eat my fist for dinner.”

That was the image in her mind as she returned to Jeremy's bedroom to clean up the mess that had spilled from his closet. Perhaps this was the first sign, she thought, that things were never going to be the same. Before moving in, she never would have imagined smacking the kid. The mere thought would have filled her with revulsion. But now...

Pam began absentmindedly re-stacking his comic books into a tower in his closet. The covers invariably fell into two categories: “explosions and guns” or “muscles and cleavage”. Sometimes all four. Dialogue seemed limited to either threats or promises. As she organized, she wondered if Jeremy had these arranged in any particular order. Avengers... Wolverine... Batman... X-Men... Playboy...

Pam stopped short. Playboy?

Though she couldn't help rolling her eyes, Pam felt a familiar twinge of affection. “That boy...” she thought, shaking her head. She dimly recalled Jeremy telling her a tale of finding his dad's secret stash of magazines. He must have swiped a few before William moved out. It had been years since she had looked at a Playboy. Picking one at random, she began thumbing through it. Nothing had changed really. Slim blonds. Perfect hair. Oversized breasts.

Pam imagined Jeremy surveying the hallway for her presence or his mom's before carefully closing the bedroom door. Then he would retrieve the Playboy from its hiding spot, maybe lie down on his bed and eagerly turn the pages with trembling fingers. Did it make him excited, looking at these naked women? Would he get an erection? Start touching himself?

Her eyes scanned the room before landing on his dresser where an innocent bottle of Coppertone stood, half-hidden behind his piggybank and a model airplane. Smiling, she returned the Playboy to the stack, making sure to properly hide it under a pile of comic books. Far from being jealous, the discovery reminded her of why things had blossomed between them in the first place. Wasn't that where it began? That day he peeked at her exposed midriff and she saw the look of sexual curiosity in his eyes?

Pam was just finishing the closet cleanup when she glimpsed a thin black object wedged in the rear of the closet. Curious, she fished out an oversized photo frame covered in dust. Turning it over, Pam was surprised to see a familiar finger paint drawing in bright, bold colors. There were two stick figures, male and female, with the latter drawn a bit taller. In the corner was a happy sun face. And on either side of the figures were two palm prints, one labeled J and the other P.

Pam held her hand up to the larger palm print. She vividly remembered the day Jeremy painted this picture. He was six, and it was only the second time she had baby-sat him. She had giggled when she held out her hand and let him apply the necessary paint to make the palm print. She wondered whose idea it was frame the painting. This was the first time she had seen it since that day.

The familiar sound of the front door interrupted her thoughts. Pam thought it was Kate coming home early from the hospital, but then she heard two loud thumping noises followed by a sigh.

“Jeremy, how many times do I have to ask you? Please don't kick off your shoes and fling them at the wall. Look at this. You leave scuff marks every time you do that.”

“Sorry, mom.”

Surprised, Pam returned the framed painting to the closet and closed the door. Following the sound of their voices, Pam peered into the kitchen. Jeremy was digging in the refrigerator while Kate thumbed through the mail.

“Hi there, Pam,” greeted Kate. “Bet you didn't expect us to be coming home right now.”

“I did not. Is everything okay?” Pam had a brief vision of Jeremy getting sent home for his non-compliant school uniform.

“They had to shut down the school!” Jeremy announced. “The AC was busted and they didn't want us to sweat our brains out. What's for lunch?”

“They tried all morning to fix the school's air conditioning,” Kate explained. “This heat wave was too much for it and the system went down sometime last night.”

“Hey, how about this?” Jeremy asked, producing a box of frozen waffle fries.

“Put it back, Jeremy,” Pam and Kate said simultaneously. He pouted but did as he was told.

“So anyway,” Kate continued, “the principal decided the heat and humidity would be too much, especially for anyone on the second floor. The temperature is going to top 95 by the afternoon, so I suppose it was the right decision.”

“I don't mind the company. Care for some lunch?” Pam offered.

“I would like some lunch,” Jeremy volunteered.

They ignored him. “I'd love to, but I really should get back to the hospital,” said Kate. She reached for her iPad. “I wonder what the traffic is like right now...” Kate frowned as she repeatedly pressed the home button. “That's funny. Is this out of battery already? I thought I just charged it last night.”

While all this was happening, Pam observed Jeremy out of the corner of her eye. His hands had begun fidgeting when his mom picked up the iPad, followed by a guilty expression. Staring at the floor, Jeremy nervously cleared his throat.

“Um, mom?” he began. “Uh, so this morning...”

Pam cut in. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you, Kate... I had a little mishap this morning and spilled my orange juice on your iPad. I don't think it's working anymore. I'm sorry. I'll buy you a new one.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jeremy's surprised face.

“Oh no, Pam, don't worry about that,” Kate reassured her. “Accidents do happen.”

“Are you sure?” Pam asked. “I feel terrible about it.”

Kate waved her off. “Nonsense. This was an old model anyway and needed to be replaced. Quite frankly, I'm amazed the iPad made it this long without Jeremy breaking it.” She gave her son a sly elbow. “Right?”

“Ha, yeah,” Jeremy said. His laugh sounded completely forced but Kate didn't seem to notice.

“I better head out,” Kate said, picking up her purse. She gave Jeremy a hug. “Can you be a good boy for Pam? Remember, this is the time that she normally gets her peace and quiet.” She winked at Pam. “I'll see the two of you tonight. Bye!”

Once she left, there was an uncomfortable silence in the house. Jeremy was leaning with his elbows on the counter, studying his hands. His face was inscrutable. For the first time, Pam couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“Do you mind waiting a bit for lunch?” Pam asked. “I need to take the clothes out of the dryer before they get wrinkled.”

“Sure,” he answered.

The clothes were still warm to the touch when she opened the dryer door. Pam folded as she retrieved them from the dryer. The cloying scent of clean laundry felt artificial yet comforting. Once she was done folding, Pam headed upstairs with the basketful of clothes.

When she entered Jeremy's room, he was sitting on his bed and looking out the window. Though he acknowledged her presence, his face still had the same expression as before. Unreadable. Pam said nothing and began putting away the folded clothes.

“Why did you tell my mom that you spilled the orange juice?” Jeremy asked finally.

Pam shrugged. She opened a drawer and deposited a stack of white t-shirts. “I don't know. I guess I didn't want you to get in trouble.”

There was a long pause. Pam began putting away socks rolled into misshapen balls. “Sorry I'm always, um, making a mess,” Jeremy said. “And thanks for, you know...” He blushed and avoided her gaze. “.... taking care of me all the time and stuff.”

Pam regarded him with surprise. Even though he was clearly embarrassed to say it, there was real sincerity behind his words. She couldn't recall Jeremy ever expressing any such sentiment before. “You're welcome,” she told him.

“You're not mad at me?” he asked, still not looking at her.

Instead of answering, Pam went to his closet. She saw a brief look of alarm on his face when she opened it, but his anxiety faded to relief when he saw her pull out the framed picture. “Remember this? I noticed it when I was looking for your school pants.” She sat down next to him on the bed. Wordlessly, Pam placed her hand over the larger palm print. Jeremy did the same over the smaller one. Whereas her hand still matched perfectly, Jeremy's own fingers extended far beyond the original hand print.

“Gosh. Look at how small my hand was.”

“I guess that's one way of looking at it. Or, you might say, look at how much your hand has grown up.” She looked at him and saw understanding flash behind his eyes. Together, they studied the drawing for a long moment. “I remember the day we made this,” Pam said, “but I didn't know it got placed in this fancy frame.”

“Yeah, my mom thought it was really cute so she framed it.”

“I never saw it hanging on the wall though.”

A sheepish look crossed his face. “I had it up for one day. But then Ashton and the other guys saw it and made fun of me for being friends with a girl. So I took it down and put it in the closet.”

“Right. Because you wouldn't want girl cooties or anything.” She meant it as a joke, but he didn't laugh. Instead, Jeremy rose to his feet and climbed onto his mattress. Carefully, he removed the framed Lamborghini poster that had hung over his bed.. He then held out his hand to Pam. She handed him the framed drawing.

“There.” Once he hung it on the wall, Jeremy clambered down from his bed to look at his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Pam approved.

“Me too.”

Pam placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Hey,” she said, remembering a chore. “Want to help me set up the sprinklers? I think everything is wilting out there.” They stopped at the kitchen for some ice water before locating their flip-flops. A wall of heat greeted them the moment they crossed the threshold of the back door.

“Gosh, it feels like a sauna out here,” Pam commented. She was still carrying her water glass which had immediately formed a misty sheen of condensation on its surface. Inspecting the backyard weather vane, her jaw dropped. “Look at that. It's already 92 degrees, and it's not even noon yet. I feel like I'm melting.”

“Same,” Jeremy said. “It's too hot. Can I go back inside?”

“You said you would help,” she reminded. “This will only take a minute.”

“But it's so hot and gross out!”

“So take off your shirt.”

His face lit up as if she had handed him twenty dollars. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto a lawn chair. It hadn't even landed before he began fanning himself with his hands. Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, but instead checked himself.

Was this part of the new Jeremy, Pam wondered? One who wouldn't complain? One who would selflessly help out? Wanting to test it out, she picked up the coiled garden hose and handed it to him. “Come on,” she said. “We'll set up the sprinklers out front first.” She headed for the front yard leaving Jeremy in tow with the heavy garden hose.

The truth was that it would have been an effort even for her to carry it. Every so often, she would glance back at Jeremy to find him struggling with effort. He tried carrying it in his arms at first, but the hose proved too heavy. Then he switched to dragging it behind him, but then the hose interfered with his feet, causing him to trot along in baby steps. Meanwhile, Pam merely clinked the ice cubes in her glass and gratefully took sips of her cold water.

Even once Pam reached the front outdoor faucet, Jeremy was a good thirty seconds behind her. His face was red with exertion and his body covered in a shimmering sweat. “Thanks buddy,” Pam told him. “I would have helped with the hose but my shoulder kind of hurts today. I think it was from carrying all that laundry.” Jeremy's lips were pursed in a grumpy scowl, but he just nodded.

Pam was enjoying herself. Wondering how far she could take it, she supervised the watering effort, asking Jeremy several times to adjust the sprinkler and then turn on the water. Each iteration forced him to trot the length of the yard as he had to turn off the water each time before adjusting the sprinkler. To his credit, Jeremy still did not complain.

Perhaps it was this new, responsible Jeremy that created the need for her to compensate in a juvenile fashion. Feeling mischievous, Pam set down her glass of water and fished out a handful of ice cubes. “Hey Jeremy, come here a second...” He turned to face her. With a deft motion of her free hand, she yanked at the waistband of his shorts and deposited the icy handful inside his underwear.

He didn't realize what was happening at first. “Hey! What are you-- AHHH!” Jeremy's eyes went wide as the ice cubes made contact with his boy area. Pam smiled smugly, partly from his yelping surprise and partly from the glimpse she had seen inside his underwear.

“Cold, cold, cold!” Jeremy chanted, his feet dancing in a frantic pattern. His frenetic movements only made it more difficult to extract the ice cubes. It took him several tries. At first he merely tossed them into the grass but the last ice cubes were unceremoniously flung at Pam.

“Be quiet!” he ordered as she laughed uncontrollably. He became even angrier when the flying ice cubes missed her completely. Pam had already moved a safe distance away after depositing her payload.

“Oh gross!” she said, pretending to inspect an ice cube lying in the grass. “That was touching your penis!” The look of chagrin on Jeremy's face only made her laugh harder. She stopped though when she him grab a water gun lying beneath the picnic table.

“I'm going to get you!” he announced. Pam shrieked and ran off as he began chasing her around the yard. She initially did a fine job evading him, but Jeremy eventually cornered her near the rose bushes and let her have it.

“Agh! Quit it, brat!” She shielded herself with her hands, but Jeremy had already landed several shots on her neck and shirt. “Gross. The water in your gun is all warm from sitting out in the sun.”

“Ha, good!” Jeremy exclaimed. He fired again, landing several shots directly on her face. The sensation of the warm water landing on her face reminded her of something else entirely.

“How come your face is all red?” Jeremy asked.

“Because it's so hot out,” Pam lied. “Quit screwing around, will you?”

“You started it.”

“Fine, now we're even. Here, take the hose out to the flower bed. I'll unwind it as you go.” She handed him the end of the hose that had the sprinkler attached. Dutifully, Jeremy jammed the water gun into his pocket and did as she requested.

“Okay,” he called, setting the sprinkler down near the flowers. He moved a safe distance from the sprinkler. “Go ahead.”

Pam turned on the water. There was a whoosh of pressure as the water began flowing through the hose. Sputtering in protest, the sprinkler gave out a spray of fine droplets before it began rotating. “Do I need to turn it up more?” she asked.

“Maybe a little bit,” answered Jeremy.

She turned the faucet some more, allowing a stronger flow of water through the hose. Pam rested her hand on the shutoff valve. The cold water had chilled the metal spigot until it felt icy. The cool sensation against her skin planted a brilliant idea in her mind. She quickly turned off the water, causing the sprinkler to abruptly stop. Jeremy had been intently watching the hypnotizing spray pattern but now he turned to her in surprise.

“Hey!” he said. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” Pam shrugged. She pretended to inspect the faucet. “The water is still on. Is there something wrong with the sprinkler?”

“I'll check,” Jeremy called.

Pam waited until he was kneeling next to the sprinkler, inspecting it so carefully that his face was only a few inches away. She quickly calculated how long it would take the water pressure to build up again. She turned the valve and asked him, “Hey Jeremy! Are you hot?”

“Yeah, are you kidding? I'm totally...” She timed it just right. Jeremy's next words were cut short as the sprinkler gushed back to life, soaking his face and bare chest. Jeremy yelped, leaping to his feet and stumbling while the sprinkler strafed ice-cold water across his shorts. Pam's laugh rang across the yard.

“You're so dead!” Jeremy shouted, dashing toward her as he drew his water gun.

But Pam was prepared for this contingency. “Oh, you think I'm worried about these baby squirts of warm water from your gun?” she mocked. She waited until he was less than ten feet away before pulling her hand from behind her back, producing a second hose with a watering nozzle attached.

Jeremy had been running at her full speed but he now skidded to a halt. “Wait, don't you dare-” He didn't get to complete his sentence as Pam let him have it. By the time she was done, Jeremy was dripping wet from head to toe. And mad as a bull.

“Give me that hose!” he demanded. They wrestled over it for a moment, their fumbling causing the water to randomly turn on.

“Ah!” Pam winced as a spray of cold water doused her midsection. Jeremy gripped her wrist with one hand while the other pried at her fingers. She often forgot how surprisingly strong he could be for an eleven year old. Clearly losing the battle, Pam decided to retreat. As she dashed away, Jeremy managed to spray a fleeting shot at her backside that soaked her shorts. Taking refuge around the corner of the house, Pam caught her breath. The water was cold at first, but she had to admit it was refreshing given the hot sun and sticky air.

Cautiously, she peeked around the corner of the house. Jeremy was waiting though. She ducked away just in time as a spray of water landed right where her face had been. “Um, okay,” she called around the corner. “How about a cease-fire?”

“No way!” Jeremy shouted. “I'm soaked through and you're still completely dry!”

“That's not true! You got my legs wet. And the front of my shirt.”

“You're going to be dripping wet by the time I'm done with you,” Jeremy declared. Pam giggled. The double entendre was lost Jeremy but not on her. Her amusement only served to annoy him though. “You're not going to be laughing once I get you,” he threatened.

“Well, I don't see how you're going to do that. I'm not coming around this corner." She paused as she recognized another pun. "And I know you don't have enough hose to get me.”

“Stop laughing!” he ordered.

“Come on, Jeremy,” she reasoned. “You don't want to stay out here all day, do you? Let's go have lunch.” He didn't respond. “Jeremy? Are you still there?” Pam waited a moment before peeking around the corner again. To her surprise, she saw the hose lying on the grass. In the distance, the sprinkler still cheerfully puttered away. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, hello?” she said, taking a guarded step forward. There weren't any other outdoor faucets in the yard, so Pam knew she was relatively safe. He probably still had his water gun, but she wasn't terribly concerned about that. She crept to the sun porch and peeked inside. Nothing. Pam was about to give up when she noticed a telltale trail of spilled water leading up the stairs to the deck above her.

“Oh no...” Now it was Pam's turn to realize too late what was happening. Looking upward, she caught a glimpse of Jeremy on the deck just before he dumped a bucket of water on her.

“Ha ha! I can't believe you fell for that!” Jeremy cackled in glee. He hurried down the stairs to rejoin her at ground level. “Did you really not know I was up there? You weren't just playing along, right?”

Pam used her fingers to push her dripping hair off her forehead. “I was not playing along,” she told him. “Are we even yet?”

“I guess so,” said Jeremy. “This is fun though. Want to keep going with the water fight?”

“Let's not and say we did,” Pam said. They were both soaked now. Jeremy's shorts clung translucent to his body, affording her a view of his skinny frame.

Pam felt an unpleasant trickle descending the small of her back.

“I'm starving,” Jeremy said. “Let's have lunch.”

“Whoa there,” Pam stopped him. “You're dripping wet.”

“I'll get towels for both of us,” Jeremy offered.

“But you'll still get water all over the clean floor. Plus?” She pointed at his bare feet covered in mud and grass clippings. “You're not going in the house like that. I just mopped yesterday.”

“Maybe I should get my skateboard from the garage,” Jeremy said thoughtfully, “and then I'll just roll to the hall closet. I could use a broom to propel myself. My feet won't even touch...”

“I do not approve of that plan,” Pam interrupted. “Look, with this kind of heat, it should only take maybe twenty minutes for us to dry off.”

“Twenty minutes? But I'm hungry now!”

“All right, all right, don't lose your cool,” Pam conceded. “Maybe we could wring the water out of our clothes too. That should speed up the process.”

“That's your plan?” Jeremy asked doubtfully. “I like my skateboard idea better.”

“Forget the skateboard,” Pam rolled her eyes. The feel of wet clothes against her skin was driving her crazy. As she began stripping off her soaked clothing, it occurred to Pam that there was a time when she would have thought twice before undressing in front of Jeremy.

Though that day was long past, Pam still felt a forbidden shiver the moment she tossed aside her wet t-shirt. It was the same feeling she had when she was buying condoms at age seventeen, even though she was no longer a virgin. In no time at all, she was standing in her bra and panties in the backyard. Jeremy, however, was reluctantly standing idle. “What's the holdup?” she asked as she wrung out her clothes.

“What if someone sees us?”

Pam looked around. The Prater's backyard was enclosed by a fence on one side and tall hedges on the other, so they had a reasonable semblance of privacy. “No one is going to see you. Trust me.”

Despite her assurance, Jeremy hesitated. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Pam realized her nipples were visible through the wet cotton of her bra, as was the dark outline of pubic hair in her panties. She pretended not to notice his attention.

“Um, are you going to take off your underwear too?” Jeremy asked.

“Why? Do you want me to?” Her question made him blush. Pam pretended to frown as she unraveled her t-shirt that was now mangled from being wrung so hard. “No, Jeremy, I'm not taking off my underwear,” she told him, concealing the disappointment in her voice.

Jeremy reluctantly hooked his thumbs into his waistband. He turned away so his back was facing her and even then she saw him look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't looking at him. Only then did he slowly slide out of his wet shorts. “Can you squeeze the water out of mine?” he asked.

“Sure, bring them here,” Pam said.

Instead he just held out his arm, his back still facing her. “Can you just take them?”

They were separated by a good ten feet. Pam was mystified by his behavior but she humored him anyway. But even once she was standing next to him and wringing out his shorts, Jeremy still took great care to be facing away from her. Once she was done with the clothes, Pam arranged them on the sunny picnic table to dry.

“Come on, let's get into the shade before you get sunburned,” she said, tapping his shoulder since she couldn't see his face. “We can sit under the porch.”

“Okay.”

Pam started walking. After a few steps, she turned to say something only to find him several paces behind her. The moment he saw her turn to face him, Jeremy shamefully cupped his hands to his crotch. He was so embarrassed that it even made Pam uncomfortable. Saying nothing, she entered the screened-in porch that overlooked the backyard.

Though it was a relief to be sheltered from the blazing sun, Pam could still feel the sweat unpleasantly dripping from her every pore. She seated herself on a cushioned lounge chair. Jeremy waited for her to sit down first before deliberately choosing a seat that was slightly behind her. “You don't even want to sit next to me, I see,” Pam commented.

“I'd just rather sit back here is all,” he said.

She couldn't figure out what was going on. “Are you okay, Jeremy?” she asked, turning in her chair so she could see him. He hands still cupped his crotch, although his eyes zeroed in on her wet bra.

“I'm fine,” he insisted.

Pam studied her nails. She could feel his eyes lingering. “Jeremy, if there's something bothering you, you can always tell me you know.”

He was silent for a long moment. “You promise you won't make fun of me?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” He paused again. “Um, do you think you could face away from me?”

Pam decided to humor him. She settled into the lounge chair in her original position. Now she was looking out the window and he was behind her. “Like this?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His disembodied voice sounded strange in the echoey porch. “I guess it... is it, um, normal for me to... I mean for it... For it to... you know... get, uh, hard all the time?”

He stumbled over his words so much that Pam felt a great burst of pity for him. “Jeremy... of course that's normal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Pam couldn't resist a follow-up question. “Did it happen again? Just now?”

Jeremy hesitated before answering quietly. “Yeah.”

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to all guys.” It was strange having conversation where she couldn't see him. Pam felt like a psychologist.

“But why does it happen even when I don't want it to?”

It dawned on her that Jeremy's sexual inexperience was greater than she had imagined. She had known for a long time that he masturbated. (Quite frequently, too, judging by all the times she sniffed the telltale scent of Coppertone on him.) Combined with the Victoria's Secret catalogs under his mattress and the Playboys in his closet, she assumed he was well-versed in the realm of sex. Guilt crept into the back of her mind as Pam realized she had perhaps been pushing him too far, too fast.

“It happens because your body is responding naturally to, um, you know... the things it finds exciting.” Now it was Pam's turn to stammer over her words. The last thing she had been expecting was to give Jeremy the sex talk. “Guys even joke about it. Getting hard when they see a pretty girl.”

“Oh.” He processed that thought for a moment. “But sometimes it happens when I'm, like, I don't know... doing homework. Or playing a video game. Or when I wake up.”

Unable to help herself, Pam kept blushing as he mentioned each instance of getting an erection. Suddenly, she was glad that he couldn't see her either. “That's normal too. It just happens sometimes. Again, nothing to be embarrassed about. It's perfectly natural.”

“I don't know. It's really embarrassing when it happens at school. What if someone sees?”

“That's true. I suppose it's different if you're in public.” Pam pondered her next words carefully. “But you know... if it's just me, you really shouldn't be embarrassed. You don't have to cover it up.”

“How come...” Jeremy trailed off. “But, um, how come you always stare at it?”

“I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just...” She struggled to explain herself. “Sometimes... sometimes you stare at me too. Don't you?” His silence answered the question.

“And that's fine if you do,” Pam continued. “I don't mind. But I think you like it, right? Looking at me, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It's the same thing. I like looking at you too,” Pam confided.

“Does it make you feel guilty though?”

Only because you're less than half my age, Pam thought to herself. Instead, she said. “Not really. You feel guilty about looking at me?”

“Well, I guess it's the same feeling I get when... You know that one time Ashton and I found my dad's magazines? It's like I'm looking at something I shouldn't be looking at. Or like... Do you believe in God?”

Pam was speechless. That was the last thing she expected him to say. “Um, I'm not sure,” Pam answered lamely. “Why do you ask?” It was unfathomable where he was going with this line of questioning. As far as she knew, Kate and William did not regularly attend any church services, except for the dutiful pilgrimage on Christmas Day. And despite the dress code, Jeremy's private school was strictly non-denominational.

“Do you ever wonder if, like, God makes bad things happen? I mean, if we're not being good?”

“You mean like earthquakes and tornadoes and floods?”

“Well, sort of,” Jeremy said. “I just sometimes wonder if my parents, you know... getting divorced was God letting something bad happen because of, um, me. And the, uh, stuff I do.”

The puzzle pieces fell into place in Pam's head. It was clear where the young boy was trying to steer the conversation. “Stuff you do,” she repeated. “Like when you look at those magazines?”

“Yeah.”

Pam paused to gather her thoughts. Jeremy was understandably confused and insecure about sex. After all, he was only eleven years old. Pam recalled the same turbulent questions tumbling in her head at that age. It was a difficult time for her. Sensing an opening, Pam ventured, “I've never told anyone this before... but when I was your age, I remember thinking the same thing. I would be, you know, alone in my room. Doing things. And wondering if God was watching.”

“What kind of things were you doing?” Jeremy asked.

“You know... girl stuff. Things that no one else knew I was doing. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” He was silent. Pam could only imagine what was going through his head as he thought of her as a young girl, alone in her bedroom. Jeremy cleared his throat. “So you think it's true?” he asked. “Did bad things happen to you? You think God really does punish people?”

“Not at all, Jeremy,” she said. “First of all, I don't think that's the way God works. It took me a long time to figure that out.” She paused to let that thought sink in. “Second of all, that stuff I was doing alone in my room? There wasn't anything wrong with doing that at all. I wasn't being bad or sick or evil. I wish someone had told me that. Because that's a message I really could have taken to heart.”

Jeremy didn't say anything. Pam knew from experience that this was a good sign; he was quietly digesting what she said. If he hadn't been listening, he would have changed the subject by now.

“So I shouldn't feel guilty about anything?” he asked.

“Exactly. Not about your parents' divorce. Not about what you do in your room.”

“Not about looking at you...” Jeremy volunteered.

“And not about getting hard from it,” Pam finished for him. Her comment made him audibly fidget in his chair behind her.

“Um, okay,” he said. “Are you sure it doesn't bother you? Whenever we joke about, um, boners at school, the girls always get annoyed and grossed out.”

“That's just because they're too young to understand,” Pam said. “It probably doesn't help that you guys are being complete dorks about it. But no, it doesn't bother me at all when you get hard. And besides...” Pam's heart fluttered a bit. “Okay, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you. I like it when you stare at me. And get hard. I think it's a compliment.”

“Really?”

“Sure. It means you think I'm a pretty girl.”

“Oh.”

Pam's eyes narrowed. Though she couldn't see him, she could hear the hesitation in his voice. “You do think I'm pretty, don't you?”

“Sure.”

She was annoyed by the lack of conviction in his voice. “Say it like you mean it,” Pam ordered.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” She tapped her fingers impatiently.

She heard him fidgeting again. “Yes, I think you're, um, pretty.”

“Why, thank you, Jeremy. That's very nice of you to say.”

“Uh, you're welcome.”

Pam sat up in her chair and stretched. Glancing at Jeremy, she found him curled up in his chair in a half-fetal position with his arms loosely wrapped around his bare legs. “Well, I'm just about dried off,” she said. “Want to go back inside the house and get cleaned off?”

“Actually,” Jeremy began. “I kind of had one more question. I mean, if you don't mind.”

“What's up?”

“Um, you know when you were talking about being my age and being alone in your room?”

“Yes?”

“Did you mean...” Jeremy shyly avoided her eyes and looked out the window. “Did you mean you were, like, uh... touching yourself?”

She couldn't keep a small smile from forming. Pam nodded.

Laughing nervously, Jeremy said, “Oh, okay. I guess I didn't know girls... you know. Touched themselves too.”

Pam gave him a knowing look. “Oh, come on, Jeremy. Don't you remember that day we went on a hike? And you locked yourselves in those handcuffs?” She certainly remembered every vivid detail of that day. “I told you. Everyone does it. Even me.”

“Oh yeah,” Jeremy said. His fingers anxiously pawed at a grass stain on his knee. Still not looking at her, he added, “Um, I guess I always wondered how girls did it.”

She had unwittingly walked straight into his trap. Clever boy, Pam thought to herself. “Oh!” she said, playing along. “I suppose I could show you, but... I don't know if I should.”

“You said it was nothing to be guilty about,” Jeremy pointed out.

When on earth did Jeremy become this Machiavellian genius? She almost wondered if he had been playing her all along. Still pretending to waffle, Pam put on her best fake pout. “I know what I said. It's just that... I've never done it in front of anyone before. It would be embarrassing.”

“I promise I won't laugh or anything.” Jeremy was now sitting up straight with his hands in his lap, doing his best impression of a well-behaved schoolboy.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” Pam asked. He answered by zipping his lips shut. Pam stood and reached behind her back. “My bra hasn't totally dried off yet,” she explained, “and it's driving me crazy. You don't mind if I take it off, do you?” Jeremy shook his head as she unclasped her bra. The wet fabric had encased her breasts in an unpleasant dampness but now there was the liberating sensation of air moving over her skin. Unpeeling her panties from her hips produced an equally luxurious feel.

Jeremy's eyes were glued to her naked body. “That's much better,” she said, stretching her arms over her head in an unabashed display of skin. She had gotten a crick in her neck from the chair so she tilted her head to and fro. “Are you getting hard again, Jeremy?”

His embarrassment snapped him out if his reverie. Blushing, Jeremy instinctively moved his hands to cover his crotch, earning himself a stern glance from Pam. Sheepishly, he stared at the floor for a moment. It took a visible effort, but he eventually managed to sit back with his hands at his sides.

“Good boy,” Pam said as she appraised the bold protrusion jutting from his underpants. Idly continuing the show, she brushed her hair with her fingers before gathering it into a ponytail. Then Pam bent over to wipe away some dried grass and flecks of mud on her legs. It felt wonderful to be freed of her clothes, especially with the humid air.

Pam noticed a funny expression crossing Jeremy's face. Without realizing it, her fingers had wandered to her nipples and begun lightly massaging them, which caught the young boy's attention. Feeling self-conscious but not stopping, Pam explained, “It feels good when I touch them like this.”

“Oh,” Jeremy nodded. “I didn't know it feels good when you touch your... um, boobs.” Pam smiled. Sometimes he said the cutest things.

Plotting her next move, she rearranged her lounge chair until it was directly facing Jeremy. She sat down primly, keeping her knees together. The rough weave of the linen cushions offered just the right amount of traction to her bare bum as Pam settled into the seat, stretching out her legs but keeping her knees together. She was now so comfortably reclined that her chin almost touched her chest. From this vantage point, the rounded globes of her breasts fell to either side of her chest, rising and falling with her breath.

Throughout all this, Jeremy's gaze had remained intently fixed on her. Pam had almost forgotten what it was like to command his undivided attention. Reminding herself to breathe, she continued the lesson. “Girls like it when you touch like this.” She demonstrated for him, twirling a finger around her pink areola and then kneading her breast. Though he didn't say a word, Pam could practically see the cogs turning in the eleven year old boy's head as he watched. The thought of being his teacher made her feel delightfully warm inside.

“Want me to show you how else girls like to be touched?”

Jeremy nodded.

Her heart was racing again. Should she really show him? In spite of everything they had done together so far, this was taking things to a whole new level. Casually resting her elbows on the armrest, Pam slowly, ever so slowly, parted her knees. Inch by inch. Jeremy leaned forward.

She let him stare for a long minute. Pam reached between her legs, not at all surprised to find a copious amount of moisture. Holding her breath, she dragged a lazy finger across her lips, savoring the feel of friction against her inflamed clit. She wanted to keep touching, but reminded herself that this was supposed to be educational. Using two hands, Pam spread herself open. She had never done that before for anyone, let alone a boy who decidedly fell into the minor leagues.

Pam cleared her throat. For the first time since she undressed, Jeremy's attention returned to her face. “See, this right here?” she asked, tapping with a finger. “That's my...” Pam hesitated before continuing. “That's my clit, Jeremy,” she said. The mere act of vocalizing the sentence made her ache with longing. “Do you see it?”

“Um, yeah,” he said. “I see it.”

“When a girl touches herself, that's what she likes to touch.” She dipped a finger to take advantage of the wetness seeping from her pink flower. Now properly armed, Pam began tracing little circles around her swollen clit. “See? Just like this.” After a few seconds, Pam stopped touching herself and moved her hands to her knees. She pretended to scratch an itch, but the truth was that she could already feel herself on the verge of an orgasm.

“So that's, um...” he paused, evidently having trouble forming words. Even though she had stopped touching, Pam still kept her feet flat on the floor and her knees far apart, as if she were offering herself up to him. “So if you keep on touching like that, will you...” He couldn't continue.

Pam nodded, unable to keep the sly grin from her face. “Did you want me to show you that too?”

“Yes, please,” he said, remembering his manners.

”All right. I'll do it, but only because you asked so nicely.” Very deliberately, Pam began masturbating in front of the eleven year old boy. They were arranged so close together that Pam could have straightened her knee and poked his shin with her toes. A mood of illicit activity now shrouded the sun porch.

Pam had never felt so aroused in all her life. A powerful swell rippled across her body, making her back arch. Her clit felt like a hard pearl rolling between her fingers. Jeremy's watchful gaze was a powerful aphrodisiac. It was amazing to be watching him as he watched her. The erection in his underwear was never more obvious as Jeremy obediently sat with his hands at his sides.

Pam's breathing grew uneven as hints of a powerful orgasm tugged insistently at her core. Knowing it wouldn't be much longer, Pam squeezed her breast, tweaking her nipple so hard that it made her gasp. Jeremy looked at her in surprise, but she didn't stop what she was doing. Pam spread her legs as wide as possible. She wanted to be facing him when she came. She wanted him to see her leg muscles throbbing in anticipation. She wanted him to see her breasts, to see her touching her nipples. She wanted him to see her fingers dancing furiously between her legs. She wanted him to see the look on her face when…

“Oh… Ohhh godddd…” Pam moaned. All the pent-up frustration over the last few weeks burst forth in a magnificent explosion of pleasure. It was so intense that she felt the need to close her eyes. But she resisted, eager to see Jeremy's reaction to his first female orgasm. Pam was not disappointed. His face displayed pure expressions of curiosity, wonderment, and... desire.

Desire. The clear arousal on Jeremy's face made the moment even sweeter. Her hips jerked uncontrollably. Her breath came in heavy gasps. “Oh god,” Pam repeated, expertly milking every last remaining drop of pleasure from the orgasm. Overwhelmed by the need for a physical connection, Pam extended her leg until her foot rested atop his.

“Um, are you okay?” Jeremy asked with genuine concern.

She laughed, curling her toes so that they massaged his foot. “I'm fine. It just felt really nice.” She smiled at him. “Did I satisfy your curiosity? What did you think?”

Jeremy nodded vigorously. “Yeah, it was really, um, neat,” he said, clearly unsure of how to describe what he had just seen. “I guess I didn't expect it to be... Um, it was all like, 'Arrrgh!' and stuff.” He spastically waved his hands and arms in an effort to explain.

“Is that what I looked like?” Pam asked, half-amused and half-offended.

“Well, no. I just mean... I guess mine aren't like that. I almost thought you were having a seizure.”

“I see,” Pam said thoughtfully. “You know, it's been so long that I forgot what yours are like.”

It took him a moment to understand what she was hinting at. “Oh, you mean you want me to, like, show you?”

“It's only fair. After all, I just showed you.”

“Well, I guess I could. If you really want me to,” he dithered. “But I don't have any Coppertone.”

“I'll get it for you. I'm mostly dried off now.” Once inside the house, Pam quickly dashed to his room and grabbed the Coppertone from his dresser. It felt strange being completely naked in the common areas of the Prater house. Before returning to the sun porch, however, she lapsed back to a casual stroll.

“That was fast,” Jeremy commented.

“You're welcome,” she answered, handing him the bottle. Pam sat down, crossed her legs and waited. But Jeremy didn't move. “It might be easier if you took off your underwear,” she offered.

“Oh right,” Jeremy said. He stood up but hesitated as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. Pam nodded with encouragement. Pulling off his underwear, Jeremy's eyes remained glued to the floor. The sight of Jeremy wiggling out of his underwear made Pam light-headed. His penis, finally free, sprung up and down like a horizontal flagpole.

Sitting back down, Jeremy retrieved the bottle of Coppertone and self-consciously squirted some into the palm of his hand. Pam tried to play it cool, but she found it difficult not to ogle. Though Jeremy had furtively masturbated next to her that night in the backyard camp-out, this was the first time she would get to see up close what the eleven year old boy normally did in private. Despite the pleasant masturbation session that she had just performed for Jeremy, Pam could feel her excitement rising once again.

But her growing arousal was not matched by Jeremy. To her surprise, she noticed his erection seemed to be fading. Pam had been so focused on the rest of his body that she didn't notice the embarrassed blush that had tinted his cheeks and ears. “Are you okay Jeremy?”

“I'm fine,” he said unconvincingly. “I just feel a little, um... I don't know. You really want to watch me do this?” The puddle of Coppertone waited forlornly in his cupped hand.

Too fast, she realized. She was pushing him too fast. “It's all right,” she reassured him. “You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm sorry I... Sorry.” An overwhelming guilt made her feel very small inside.

“It's just that, you know, I've never done it in front of anyone before.”

“I know. I understand.” Pam knew it was time to stop. Get dressed and maybe have some lunch. But she couldn't let it go. “Do you want me to do it for you?” she asked hopefully.

“Okay,” he agreed. “If you don't mind.”

“It would be an honor.” Pam knelt next to his chair. The hard floorboards of the sun porch bit into her knees, but she didn't care. Taking his wrist, Pam carefully transferred the Coppertone from his hand into hers. “We don't want to waste this, right?” she asked. Jeremy obediently held out his overturned hand as she scraped clean every last bit of Coppertone. His eyes briefly met hers. Pam fought the urge to kiss him. This simple, harmless act was somehow imbued with a great deal of intimacy.

Her hand now armed with the fragrant and slippery liquid, Pam gently laid her palm atop his crotch. His penis was soft and wriggly at first but it required only a minute of insistent movement before Pam felt a familiar hardness pressing back against her hand. “Is this okay?” she asked him.

Jeremy nodded. Pam let her thumb run alongside the length of his erection, causing Jeremy to flinch. She paused her ministrations. “It's all right,” he told her. “It's just been a while and it feels, like, I don't know. Different.”

Pam began touching him again, taking care to use a lighter touch. “Been a while?” she repeated. “How long of a while do you mean?”

“Um...” Jeremy seemed embarrassed. “I guess since my birthday.”

Pam was shocked. “You mean when I did it for you? That was months ago.”

He nodded. “I would start doing it. I would, you know, get the Coppertone out. But then I always stopped because of the guilt.”

She felt a great pity for him, followed by compassion. Pam had no idea he had been wrestling so much with this guilt over masturbation. His mood swings over the past several weeks suddenly made sense. “Does this feel okay?” Pam asked him.

“Yeah.”

Pam's open palm was barely making any contact, but she could feel Jeremy's erection pressing eagerly against her hand. Over two months had passed since his birthday, and Pam wanted to make up for all the lost time he had spent stewing in his preteen guilt and confusion. Her hand waved left and right, left and right, left and right, determined to give him the sexual release he had been craving.

She didn't have to wait long. Barely thirty seconds had passed when Jeremy took a deep breath. “Pam?” he began.

He didn't have to say more. With that single word, his voice had palpably quivered with excitement and uncertainty. “It's okay,” she assured him. “It's all right. Take my hand. I want you to.” His hand clenched down hard on hers as she waved him off. “I want you to, I want you to....”

Jeremy's body seemed to crumple. A series of tremors undulated across his abdomen, causing him to clutch at the chair's armrest with a gangly arm. His other hand squeezed Pam so tight that she would have yelped in pain had she not been swimming in arousal. Nothing separated her skin from his except a thin layer of Coppertone. “Good boy...” she breathed. “That's my good boy.” His erection pulsated powerfully against her palm, giving her a tantalizing hint of the male strength he had yet to grow into.

Pam knew she could never tire of watching him come. His head turned to the side, burying his chin against his twitching shoulder. The sound of Jeremy's rapid breaths punctuated the silence of the sun porch. Even though he wasn't yet finished, Pam found herself immediately thinking of the next orgasm she would be giving him. They had both gotten lost in the past couple weeks, but Pam felt a great deal of hope now. Patience and perseverance, she reminded herself, would pay off in the end.



Previous chapter:
Chapter 7 - The Worst Birthday Ever

Next chapter:
Chapter 9 - The Good Boy



Index to all chapters of the Jeremy series.

My non-Jeremy stories (Mg) can be found here.



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