Chapter 1 -- Ann Ascends the Mountain
Ann Macafee was one of those girls you dream about but never
get. She hung around with the "in" crowd, which was a mixture of athletes,
college-preps, and the stars of the drama club. You could see them at every
lunch hour, all clustered around the big live-oak in the central quad, an
invisible barrier of disdain for all non-members separating them from the
general rabble. We all hated them. We all wanted to be them. They were the elite
that just naturally floats to the top of every high school. Ann Macafee was
their Queen. She was the female lead of nearly every play the school put on. She
dated the star of the football team (I know, that sounds corny, but it was true)
and hung around with the kids- who-are-rich-and-will-be-richer. Her family lived
in the foothills in a house that was just this side of an estate. She had it
all, and she was beautiful. Her beauty had that casual, effortless look. Her
short brown hair, fine and fresh, framed a face that was almost a perfect match
to that girl whose father owns the hotel in Twin Peaks (I say that now, though
of course back then there was no Twin Peaks). Her body, always clothed in
expensive wools and tweeds, was perfectly proportioned. Her firm high breasts
looked like the models by which all other breasts are designed. Her round, tight
ass gave only slightly when she perched on a chair. She had straight, dainty
posture, and perfectly manicured hands. She was, in every sense, a perfect
little doll. And she knew it. Some people can put you down without saying a word
-- by the way they look at you, or avoid looking at you; or simply by the way
they carry themselves. Ann was a perfect example. She was better than us, she
seemed to say. She would glide through the halls, aloof and apart, her face a
mask of calm separateness, until she would spy another of the elite circle and
her expression would break into a smile of pure warmth. For most of my junior
year I had suffered a devastating and quite secret crush on Ann. I was not a
part of her life, of course. I was no nerd, but my friends were as I was, a part
of the masses. I was a fairly good-looking young man, well built and handsome,
or so I was told by the girls I dated, but I did not possess that magic glamour
that permitted access to the higher circle. Ann never looked at me, never met my
eyes. We were lab partners in chemistry, and somehow she still managed to avoid
any kind of interaction. The few times I tried to make a joke or start a
conversation, she withered me with total disinterest. It was horrible. By my
senior year I was pretty much over it, though. I had enjoyed a pretty successful
summer, sexually speaking, and this had boosted my confidence to the point that
I no longer needed an Ann Macafee. Oh, I still appreciated her lovely long legs
on those days she wore a skirt, and I still let my eyes roam her breasts when
the weather was warm and she wore thin silk blouses. But my obsession was over.
I thought that she would never enter my world. But everything changed when I
discovered that Ann led a secret life. It was early in my senior year. I had
driven up to the top of Mt. Ervin, which is a popular make-out spot for the
high-schoolers. I was working on a project for my photography class, and had
gone up to Ervin Park to take some long-exposure shots, showing the stars
streaking across the sky over time; a very common thing for amateur
photographers to do. I did not want to be seen near the parking lot with a
camera, since that was where the kids parked, and no one would be too happy if
they saw me bopping around with my Nikon. I had taken a few girls there myself,
and I know I would have been pissed. So I had hiked down the hillside and was
approaching a small clearing I knew of, where I planned to set up the tripod and
start the timed exposures. The spot was quite sheltered from the parking lot and
the road, which was important to me since a passing headlight would ruin my
shot. As I got within earshot of the clearing, I heard voices talking low.
"Shit," I whispered to myself. Someone was using my spot -- I didn't know anyone
else knew about it. I had taken Linda Short there to fuck her, and had not been
worried since I was sure it was a private spot. Now I knew differently. I crept
up quietly and peered from behind a bushy tree. It was Ann Macafee, there with
Bill Arnold. I was totally shocked; Bill was known as sort of the school
hoodlum. He wore heavy metal T-shirts, engineer boots, and torn Levis pretty
much all the time. He was just the sort the Ann would avoid like disease, yet
here she was with him, at night, and in a very intimate spot. They were kneeling
over something and talking in hushed tones. I could not tell what they were
doing at first, then Bill lit a small candle. I saw the mirror on the grass, and
the razor blade glinting on its surface. Aha, I thought: Cocaine. Now everything
made sense; Ann liked coke (okay, that was surprising, but not insane) and Bill
was certainly the most likely source for drugs on campus. I could not make out
what they were saying, but Bill's face was full of mischief. Ann looked very
anxious as she stared at the coke he was forming into a line on the mirror. He
did the line, then sat back, his vial of coke in his hand, and stared at her.
Finally, probably out of frustration, her voice rose to where I could hear it.
"Come on Bob. Lay out a line for me. You said you would." She still held her
usual expression of superiority, but there was a quiver of desperation in her
voice that told me coke was not a casual thing for her. "Maybe I will. Wha'cha
gonna do for me, Annie?" Bill said, leering at her. "Fuck you!" Ann said and
looked away. Bill chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I had in mind. Pussy
for coke. Not a bad deal, when you consider how much this shit costs. I'll bet
you've got a tight cunt..." She whirled on him, but her anger caused her to drop
her voice into a hiss and I could not hear what she said. They spoke in low
tones for a while, and it seemed to me that some sort of negotiation was going
on. They came to an agreement, and Ann said "God, you're a shit. Alright, fine,
let's get it over with." Bill sat back on his elbows and smiled again. "But you
have to take it out." When it looked like she was about to protest, he added "or
no deal, Annie." "Stop calling me that," she said, trying to remain the Queen.
But she reached out, lowered his zipper, and took out his cock, which was stiff
as a pole. I could not believe this, even though it was pretty obvious that he
wanted some kind of sex from her. His cock was average in length, but fat, with
a slight bend near the had. It had the vaguely bruised look that comes from
frequent use. She gripped it lightly with her right hand and began to jerk him
off. Bill moaned, then began to sprinkle some coke on the mirror with one hand
while propping himself with the other. When she leaned forward to take the
mirror, he stopped her. "This is the worst hand job I've ever had, Annie. Either
you'd better get into it, babe, or no snow." She looked pained and embarrassed,
but she leaned into her work on his dick and began stroking with both hands.
Bill was obviously enjoying her attentions, but I could tell by the look on his
face that he was not going to settle for this. I was incredibly turned on,
watching this pristine queen jacking off the school hood. There she was,
expensive knit skirt and cardigan sweater, on her knees with a bent dick in her
hand, stroking it. She'd obviously given hand before, which did not surprise me
-- that's probably all girls like her did. I smiled to myself when I remembered
my Nikon was hanging around my neck. Thanking my lucky stars for putting me here
with a camera, and without my noisy auto winder, I began to slowly click off
pictures, pacing myself so as not to run out of film. The candlelight was more
than adequate, since I had brought fast film. Click -- Ann giving Bill a hand
job. Bill stopped her again, and she obviously thought she was going to get her
coke because she looked relieved. But he whispered something and she stood up,
turned her back on him, and angrily stomped away a few strides. "Come on,
Annie," Bill said, teasing her. "It's fair. Blow for blow. Coke for cock.
Besides, your hand job sucks." He laughed, obviously amused by his choice of
words. "I mean, it doesn't suck. Hey, that's the problem!" His glee was
disgusting, but I was loving this. Click -- Bill standing with his dick sticking
out, Ann turning to look. "If you think I'm taking that... thing in my mouth,
you're crazy." Her eyes were darting between his hard dick and the coked mirror
on the grass behind him. Bill's face suddenly dropped into a serious expression.
"Wise up Annie. Nobody has the coke connections I do, and you're in need.
Besides, " he said, narrowing his gaze, "we're alone here. I could lay you down
and fuck your brains out if I wanted to. A little head won't kill you, and I
promise to give you the coke afterwards. I'll leave your pussy alone." He was
stroking his cock with one hand as he spoke, keeping it hard. Her voice was very
shaky now. "Oh, come on Bill..." "I want to," he interrupted her. "I want to
come on. I want to come on you. Now you can open those sweet lips of yours or we
can wrestle and see who is stronger. I don't mind. Either way, you get your coke
and I get my nut." His look was deadly and serious. Ann obviously knew she was
cornered. I briefly considered stepping out of the shadows to save her -- Bill
was a hood, but I was quite a bit bigger than him. Maybe she'd reward me for my
gallantry. Then I remembered all the withering looks she had given me over the
years... Click -- Ann kneels before Bill.. Click -- Ann takes Bill's dick into
her mouth. Bill began to pump his skinny hips almost immediately as Ann took his
obscene dick in and out of her little mouth. She gave the impression of some
experience, though not a lot. She let him slide the bent thing in and out,
covering her teeth with her lips, but I did not see any tongue action, nor did
she move her head laterally at all -- these would have been signs of a good
cocksucker. Like Linda Short. Bill did not seem to care. I clicked off a series
of five shots showing Ann with varying amounts of Bill's dick in her mouth, then
he grunted and hissed. He obviously began to come, for Ann violently pulled his
cock from her mouth and tried to lunge away. Bill grabbed her hair and held her
in place, so that his long streams of sperm landed on her face, hair, and
sweater. After he had finished coming -- which was a subject of two particularly
good photos in my series; Ann with come flying toward her face, Ann with come
hanging off her chin -- he chuckled and let her go. She grabbed her purse, and
stepped off into the bushes, spitting and dabbing her face with a Kleenex. While
she was gone, Bill began to chop up the coke with the razor blade and draw it
into a line. He added a second line, and then a third. When she returned, he
smiled and handed the mirror to her with one hand and offered his straw with the
other. "Here you go, Annie. Nice job -- I gave you some extra lines, you're such
a good little cocksucker." She glared at him, refusing his straw. She had her
own -- a sign of a true cokehead -- and she turned her back on him, sat down,
and did the lines. Click -- Ann snorts cocaine while Bill stands behind,
shrinking, wet dick in his hand. Click -- Ann smiles at the mirror, Bill milks
his dick behind her head. Click -- Ann snorts another line while Bill drips his
last dribbles of sperm on her hair, she oblivious through her haze of coke. The
deal done, Ann was in a real hurry to get out of there. She was probably afraid
that he'd try to rape her anyway, but Bill was obviously spent to the point of
disinterest. He had retrieved a beer from his shoulder bag and was taking long
pulls at it while he played with himself. He paid her no attention as she
gathered up her stuff. I suddenly realized that I was standing on the path she
was about to take back. I crouched down quickly in the darkness -- she passed by
within two feet of me without noticing. Her perfume was almost strong enough to
cover the smell of Bill's crotch, though not quite. The whole scene had given me
a raging boner and it was a little uncomfortable squatting in my tight jeans. As
soon as she was out of sight, I rushed back to my car and headed home.
Chapter 2 -- Seeing What Develops
No darkroom at home, and the school closed until Monday, I
put my precious roll of black and white film in a safe place and tried to make
the time pass quickly. I'd taken the photos on Friday night, and Saturday I had
a date with Theresa Mills. I thought about canceling it, since my mind was
filled with distractions, but then I remembered how nice a distraction Theresa
could be, and I took her to the Lake. Theresa was catholic, so her limits were
pretty firm, but she had nice tits and let me fondle and suck them while she
jacked me off. All I could think of as she stroked my cock was Bill Arnold's
dong in Ann Macafee's hand, and later in her mouth. I'd asked Theresa for a
blowjob before and been turned down, but I asked again. Her refusal, the sweet
lie that it was ("I'd love to suck this nice dick for you, but it's just too big
for my little mouth"), was all the more frustrating. I wanted to imagine it was
Ann sucking me. Oh well. I told her I was going to come and she increased her
tempo and brought a wad of Kleenex to the tip to catch the flow. Such a
well-prepared girl. I rubbed her tits and french kissed her, two things she
never seemed to get enough of, and she jacked me off again about a hour later.
It was a nice date, but it did little to relieve my delicious tension. All I
wanted to do was develop that roll of film. Sunday crawled by, and I hardly
slept that night. I went in to school as early as I could, waited for the
darkroom to open, and cut my morning classes. I was aware that my haste could
ruin this priceless piece of film, so I deliberately made myself slow down. I
went into the blackout booth and loaded the reel with the film. Twice my fingers
slipped -- loading a reel by hand is no easy trick under the best of
circumstances -- but I finally got the strip into the can and developed it with
painstaking attention to time and temperature. The negatives were perfect. They
were so crisp, so defined. I could not believe my luck. I was aware of how
dangerous it was to print anything when at any moment an instructor or a student
might glance over to see what I was doing, but the darkroom was pretty empty and
I just had to make a contact sheet at least. I let the negatives dry, then cut
them into strips of six. I laid them onto some glossy stock and made a contact
print. I developed the thing face down, maddening though that was, and squeegeed
and dried it that way. I did not look at it until I was alone in a stall in the
boys room. What a treasure. Ann's look of concentration as she stroked that
cock. Ann's pretty lips stretched around that thick, bent cockhead. Ann's
averted eyes and submissive posture as the come dripped off her chin. I drew out
my hard dick and came in four slow strokes, my come pouring into the toilet
bowl. If only that could be my dick, I thought. If only he had convinced her to
fuck him, or even just to strip -- I'd love to have photos of those tits and
that pussy... In the calmness that follows a good orgasm, I reflected that I
could get in real trouble if anyone saw these photos. Of course, there was no
way to link them to me unless they were found on my person, still... Then I
grinned. I grinned probably the biggest grin of my life. Me get in trouble? Not
anything like the trouble Ann could get into. I had her. Boy, did I ever. A vast
and limitless universe of possibility opened before me. I had her taking coke
and giving head to a sleazebag. "Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found
you," I said quietly to myself. Such a warm feeling to anticipate the future,
when such vistas of pleasures lie ahead. I quickly returned to the darkroom and
made a second contact sheet, dangerous though that was, then put the negatives
and one sheet into an envelope and went home at lunch to hide the package inside
the air vent grille in my room. I did not hide the second contact sheet, though.
I had big plans for that one. I wrote on the back of the sheet: "Dear Ann. These
photos will enjoy a wide distribution to the police, your parents, and the
school population at large unless we can reach an agreement. Imagine hundreds of
copies of the picture with Bill Arnold's dick in your mouth or Bill Arnold
coming on your face, distributed all over campus. Imagine pictures of you
snorting coke being sent to the cops. Imagine a copy of this contact sheet
finding its way to your father's office, or to your home and your mother. If you
wish to avoid all these things, meet me at the Fish and Chips shop in the
Sanderson Mall today after school. We can discuss my terms. Don't worry, I can
be reasonable, but don't imagine I am bluffing. I have nothing to lose by
publishing these as 8 x 10 glossies." I folded the sheet into four and put it in
an envelope marked "Open in Private!" I went back to school, cut another class,
and, when I was sure I was not being observed, slipped the envelope into her
locker through the vent. At first it stuck, and I panicked a little, but a
little back-and-forth action made it slip right through. I waited until the next
bell rang, then stood across the quad looking through a telephoto lens at Ann's
locker. The hubbub of the between- class activity hid me perfectly, and after
two minutes or so I spied her heading toward her locker. She looked just as she
always did, aloof and superior. I could not believe that such a debasing scene
did nothing to change her attitude, but she clearly still held herself "above it
all." Just for a few moments longer, Ann, I thought. She opened her locker and
the envelop fell to the ground. I must have gasped a little when another girl
picked it up, looked at it, and handed it to her. She said something, probably
intended to be witty, but Ann frosted her with a snooty look and the girl walked
away. Ann read the envelope, closed her locker, and walked over to sit on the
planter that surrounded the flagpole. Checking to see that no one was near, she
opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet. She must have opened it to the photo
side first, because her face went white, her eyes grew large as saucers, and she
clasped the sheet immediately to her chest to hide the side where the photos
where. She looked around again, frantic, then noticed the writing on the reverse
side. She stuffed the sheet back into the envelope without reading it, then ran
off to the girls room, looking a little ill. I chuckled to myself. Ann looked
about as un-superior as a person could, stumbling frantically off to the
bathroom clutching sex photos of herself. I knew she was going there to read the
note, to scan the photos again in disbelief. I knew she was scared and
suffering, and in the darkest reaches of my heart I felt great. She was, I
guess, a symbol for all the elite people of the world, to me. She was the
embodiment of all the things a normal person never gets to have. Well, this time
it was going to be different. Very, very different.
Chapter 3 -- Modus Vivendi
I sat down in a back booth and ordered a bowl of red chowder.
I was a bit nervous -- confrontation has never been my strong suit -- but
something about the quality of this event had brought out my ruthless side.
Under normal circumstances I would have been tongue tied around a girl like her.
Now I was in charge, and there was nothing that could change that. She entered
the shop about 5 minutes after the final bell would have rung -- I had cut all
my afternoon classes too. I was amused to think that she must have hurried
indeed to get here so soon after school had let out. She looked around the shop,
but most of the tables were empty. It was primarily a lunch and dinner place,
and I knew it would be pretty empty for at least two hours. She finally spotted
me, and I held my camera up and winked. I could not tell if she recognized me,
but I doubt it. She'd done such a good job of ignoring me, I doubted she was
even sure that I went to her school. She strode up purposefully and sat down
angrily in my booth, facing me. "Are you the guy who left those pictures?" Her
voice was a furious whisper, but there was a lot of fear there. The anger was
clearly intended to give her courage and perhaps bully me into giving in. No
chance... I smiled. "Photography is my life, 'Annie.' Of course, I don't usually
take those kinds of pictures..." "Sure!" she spat. "I'll bet you creep all night
long spying on people like that, you pervert!" "I'm a pervert? Maybe you better
look at those snapshots again." "Oh, fuck off!" Her voice was a high, nervous
squeak. "Take care, now, Annie. You don't want to get on my bad side, now DO
YOU?" I pointed my finger at her and stared her down. She looked at me with a
stunned horror. Our voices were low, but I imagine no one (except maybe Bill
Arnold) had ever talked to her in such a tone, especially no one from the great
unwashed masses, like me. She was beginning to realize that I had her and I knew
it. She looked down at her expensive leather shoes. "Um, no. I guess I don't.
OK, OK, I'm sorry." She was silent for a moment. "What is this all about?"
"That's better. Now, I have the negatives to those photos and I can make all the
prints I want. What can you offer me to make it worth my while not to do that? I
mean, imagine how fun it would be to see a fucking little princess like you get
dragged through the shit." She looked up at this, her eyes sad and shocked, but
her face as lovely as always. "If I'm going to deny myself that pleasure, I have
to have something to replace it." "What kind of something?" Her voice was a
whisper, her eyes locked onto mine. "A better something. Something very, very
pleasant. Something like you gave Bill Arnold." She bit her lip and shook her
head. "Something even better, perhaps." I smiled the smile of the cat who ate
the canary. She closed her eyes for a moment, then suddenly opened them and
smiled. The smile was the sort of familiar, cozy smile she usually reserved for
her fellow elite, and she beamed it at me with all the energy she could muster.
"Oh, come on, be a sweetheart. You saw what that slime made me do. Haven't I
been through enough? Besides, you look like a nice guy -- you don't want it like
that, you know, forcing me to, do you?" She batted her eyes and tilted her head.
A curl of honey brown hair drifted over one eye and her face assumed a look that
was at once innocent, friendly, sexy, and strong. Looking back, it is of course
obvious that she was trying to manipulate me through those same charms that had
kept her on top of the pyramid for four years. But at the time I was only 16,
and very susceptible. She saw the hesitation in my face, and tried to press the
advantage. "There's no reason we can't be friends, is there? I mean, do a girl
one little favor... uh... um..." Her smile faded a bit, and I realized that she
was trying to remember my name. We'd been in school together since the second
grade, had even been lab partners, and she had never taken even enough interest
to remember my name. The spell broke. "Forget it, Annie," my voice was strong
and I could see that she knew I was not going to play. "No, this is going to be
business." Her expression fell into one of complete despair. I recognized the
look -- it was very much like the one she had given Bill Arnold when he
threatened to rape her if she did not come across with a blowjob -- but there
was a difference. Though she was defeated, she was not disgusted, or at least
not as disgusted as she had been then. I spread my hands out on the table and
sat back in my seat. "Now," I began, businesslike and firm, "you're a rich kid.
Your parents probably own a summerhouse or some rental properties or something,
right?" "What?" She was visibly shaken. Shocked at her failure to charm me, she
was beginning to see the reality of the situation. "There must be some place
where you can go when you want to party -- a boathouse or a cabin or
something..." "No, I..." "Don't lie to me, Annie. That would be a truly major
mistake." She was quiet for a moment, and a tear leaked out of her left eye and
ran down her face. "Uh, well... our carriage hou... our garage... is separate
from the house and has a... a furnished attic." "Where the chauffeur lives?"
"We're not that rich. It's for that, though, I guess. There's a kitchen and a
little living room..." She paused for a moment, then looked at her shoes again.
"And a bed... room." "Perfect. You have a key?" "No, but I know where it is. My
dad used to use the rooms as a den, kind of, but my mom thought he was taking
girls there and she put the key away in her jewelry box." "Good. Get it tonight
and make two copies tomorrow at lunch. Meet me here after school and give me one
of them. I'll give you further instructions then." She looked devastated. "You
want a key of your own!? How long is this supposed to go on?" Her voice was
choked. I smiled and looked her straight in the eye. "As long as I say, Annie.
Now be a good girl and do what I said. Or else." She muttered a very childlike,
pouty "OK" then got up and practically ran away, her arms crossed over her chest
as she ran... I sat there for minutes afterward, basking in glorious delight and
hard as a post in anticipation.
Chapter 4 -- Afternoon delight
I arrived at the garage apartment at 4:00, expecting to find
her there. I checked to make sure I was not seen, then entered through the side
door and up the plain wood staircase to the rooms above. The same key that had
opened the side door opened the door to the main room, and the musty smell of
the place told me how long it had been unused. But it was basically clean. Ann
was not there. At lunch I had told her to be there by 3:45 and to wait for me.
She had seemed totally cowed and I was disturbed to find that she had disobeyed.
Had she decided not to show? I could make good on the threats, of course, but
the truth was that though she may have believed me, I looked forward to having
her as my playmate far more than the prospect of ruining her by distributing the
photos. I was not even sure I would actually do it. She was so pretty, so
doll-like and cute, I'm not sure I could bring myself to shit on her like that,
bitch though she certainly was. But the point was rendered moot when she
appeared in the doorway. "You're late," I said. "Sorry, I'm really sorry. My mom
saw me coming up the walk and wanted to talk to me about some stuff. Then I had
to wait until I could sneak away..." "Fine, fine," I interrupted her. She was
really apologizing to me! This was delightful -- she was actually accepting the
idea that I was in charge here, and she had a responsibility to obey me. She
must really be afraid of those pictures, I thought. "Now, to the matter at
hand," I said, closing and locking the door behind us. "Stand there in the
middle of the room and take off all your clothes." She bit her lip and winced a
little, but moved to the center of the living room and began to strip. First
came the shoes and stockings -- I was surprised to see she did not wear
pantyhose, but old fashioned stockings and lacy garters. Rich girls, I guessed..
Next she took off her sweater and blouse, then stepped out of her skirt. She did
this all very slowly, obviously trying to keep the ultimate moment away, but I
did not mind. It made her look so graceful and lithe, and I wanted to bask in
the moment anyway. Finally, she stood there in her lacy white bra and plain
cotton panties, the latter with little pink bows at the sides that matched the
pink ribbon in her hair. She stood for a moment, her hands trying to cover
herself without appearing to do so, and seemed to be unable to continue.
"Everything Annie. Take it all off now." My voice was even and calm, but
definite. "One favor, please?" She was actually begging, something I imagine
she'd never done before. "Maybe." "Don't call me Annie. That's what that slime
Bill Arnold called me. Call me Ann." "We'll see. If you do a good job and you
earn it -- but for now you're Annie. Now get naked." She held her breath for a
second, then let it out and undid the front clasp on her bra, sweeping it away
with one hand and laying it on the little sofa with the rest of her clothes. I
cannot tell you how I felt, seeing those breasts that I had fantasized about for
so long. They were so perfect, so round and high, and with large nipples that
looked so completely suckable. I nearly came just looking at them. When she bent
over to remove her panties, they hung taut below her, then did not sag one iota
when she stood again, panties in hand. And then she was naked before me. Her
pussy hair was a neat, perfectly trimmed little triangle of light brown -- even
more lovely and delicate than I had expected. She had an ideal figure, her
smooth tummy and slim waist, her flawless creamy skin, her dancer's legs. Nude,
she was still a perfect doll, an ideal girl. She was shaking a bit, but I could
tell that she was resigned to this. "All right," I said, "Now undress me." She
stepped immediately forward and began to unbutton my shirt. "No," I said, "on
your knees, Annie." She dropped to her knees, and had to reach up straining to
take off my shirt. Then off came my shoes and socks, again piled neatly next to
hers on the sofa, then she undid my pants and struggled to get them off (Levis
are hand to remove from a standing person), but finally succeeded. All through
this her face was calm and businesslike, but her breathing was becoming rapid,
and there was a flush creeping over her chest and upper arms. Finally she took
off my briefs. My dick, hard and straight as a post, sprang out and hit her on
the cheek, and she stared at it as she lowered the underwear to my feet and I
stepped out of them. My dick is a bit on the large side, especially compared to
Bill Arnold's, being very close to nine inches long (and I was so hot that day I
would not be surprised if it were ten) and very thick. I am uncircumcised,
though that was hard to see with the foreskin retracted so completely. I could
not remember ever feeling so hard in my life. My dick stuck straight out in
front of me, like a baseball bat at the ready. "Jesus, you're huge..." she
whispered, and I could see fear in her eyes. I just smiled and dropped to my
knees, my dick bopping her right breast on the way down, then brushed her hair
away from her face and placed my hands on her wonderful breasts. She hissed in
her breath a little as I massaged her nipples, then I released them. "Go get the
sofa pillows, Annie. On your knees." She walked on her knees the two steps to
the sofa, and pulled the pillows off. I had her place them on the floor, then I
laid back and got comfortable. She knelt motionless at my feet. "Lay beside me,
and let me feel those titties," I said, "and you can get the feel of my cock
while I do. She walked on her knees to my side, then laid down on her side next
to me, while I was on my back. This gave me access to her left breast only, so I
made her turn slightly to expose them both. As we lay there on the old green
carpet, I squeezed and stroked those magnificent breasts, thumbing the nipples
and pinching them lightly until they were fully erect. She took my cock in her
left hand and began to stroke it, her fingers not quite touching her thumb as
she grasped it with her small hand. Her touch was warm and exciting, but she did
not really know how to give a proper hand job, and I had no desire to teach her.
I pushed her onto her back and began to suck her nipples, first one, then the
other, while my hand slipped between her thighs. She gasped as my fingers probed
her pussy, but she was very wet, and her clit was engorged. I stroked and sucked
her for perhaps five minutes, reveling in her body, then sat back on the pillows
and guided her face to my cock. "Now, let's see if you really are a `good little
cocksucker' Annie," I said, still tweaking her nipples. She flashed me a look,
but then opened her mouth and took the head of my cock between her lips. She
began sliding it in and out, perhaps two inches of length total, covering her
teeth with her lips. It felt very nice, but it was not a good blowjob. I pushed
her face off my dick. "No, that won't do,' I said. "You've got lousy technique.
You're too mechanical. You've got to make love to my cock, really go at it."
"Look," she began, "I'm taking this thing in my mouth, so don't..." "Shut up!" I
snapped, and she fell silent. "It's not `this thing,' it is MY cock. This kind
of blowjob I can get from my hand. Now, cover your upper teeth with your lips,
your lower teeth with your tongue, and let that tongue swirl the underside of my
cock as you suck. And let my dick get plenty wet. Use some suction, and move
your head from side to side as you go, with some passion. Now and then take it
out and lick it. And I expect you to suck me a lot deeper." "Deeper? How can I?
My mouth was full as it was. You're too big." "I guess you'll have to work
something out. Oh, and use your hands to jack the shaft and fondle my balls
while you suck." I leveled my gaze at her, "Now. Get back to work." She took my
cock in her mouth again, and this time was much better. I could feel her tongue
playing along my glans and she applied a good amount of suction as her head
bobbed up and down. She still was taking only two or perhaps three inches, but
the feeling was wet, warm. and wonderful. I put her left hand on my dick and her
right on my balls, and she drew her knees up to support herself. Her left hand
began to jack my shaft, with just the same rhythm as her mouth sucked me. With
her right hand she stroked my hairy balls; a ticklish feeling, but it always
adds something to the experience. All in all, a good start. After a few minutes
of this I felt her saliva running down my shaft and onto my balls, and her mouth
was getting smoother and looser. I put my hand on the back of her head, my palm
covering the pink ribbon she had there, and pushed her down farther, so she was
talking half my length with each down stroke. This increased her suction as she
tried to take more and more of me into her mouth. I could tell she was getting
turned on -- she increased her tempo and began taking me deeper and deeper
without my urging, and soon I felt that I was very close to coming. She pulled
my dick from her mouth and licked it, eyes closed and an expression on her face
that was almost loving. She flicked her tongue delicately over the glans, to
which I said, "Oh, yeah," and then she took my cock back into her mouth and
began to suck it hard, deeper and deeper. She was emitting a little whimper in
the back of her throat, and her nipples, brushing my thighs, were hand as
raisins. "I'm... gonna come... so get ready... to swallow..." I said between
strokes. I felt her begin to hum some kind of protest (a princess doesn't
usually swallow come, I guess), but the vibrations only made the sensation of
her sucking more exquisite, and I exploded into her mouth.
Chapter 5 -- Consummation of the Deal
I held her head in place as I came. At the first mighty
spurt, I felt the head of my cock slip into her throat. She swallowed hard once,
twice, a third time, then pressed her face hard into my groin. She made a sound
like a quivering whine, and I thought she was choking, but I looked down and saw
her hips churning. She was coming! She pulled my dick halfway out and began
bobbing her head again, wildly. The come was still pouring out of me, and I felt
deliriously blissful. Her orgasm lasted almost a full minute, her knees and
thighs clamped tightly together, her ass bucking and churning, and though my
cock had gone soft she kept it in her mouth until she was done. She had come
without touching herself, just by sucking me off. She let my cock slide from he
mouth and rested her head on my thigh, the rest of her body collapsed between my
legs. After a moment, I said, "Did you like that?" She did not answer, did not
look at me. "You came, too. You must have liked it." She turned away and hugged
her knees, her back to me, and still did not say anything for several minutes.
Then finally she said, "I've never, um, done that before" in a soft, high voice.
"You forget I have pictures of you doing it to Bill Arnold," I said, standing.
"No, I mean..." she turned her head and looked up at me, "I never swallowed...
it. I thought..." She drifted off. "I felt my cock go into your throat when I
came. I think that's what you felt. And my come going down your throat." Talking
like this was making my cock stir again. Good, I thought, soon we go on to the
next step. "Yes," she said. After a moment she added "Your thing is so much
bigger than Randy's -- my boyfriend's -- or Bill's. It was... different." "You
liked it, Annie." "Ann." "Yes. You did a good job, so it's Ann. I can see this
is going to be a nice afternoon." I smiled at her reaction, which was mild
shock. "You mean we're not done?" "Done?" I laughed. "We're about as far from
done as you can imagine. And this is just today. I like this, Ann. I like this a
lot. And in a way, I think you do to." She would not answer, but instead rose
and went to the sink, to get a drink of water. After she finished her drink she
turned to look at me. Standing there at the sink, bathed in the sunlight coming
through the tattered curtains, she was lovelier than ever. I could see the
moisture still glistening on her chin and the insides of her thighs. "I'm doing
this because I have to. Don't get the idea that I want this." "I really don't
care. You're been getting your way all your life. Now it's your turn to do what
someone else wants, " I replied, and she turned angrily away. "Besides, you
didn't `have to' come like a damned flood. Maybe you don't like me, but you like
this," I said, lifting my half-hard cock into my palm. She turned back to face
me, and stared at my cock, her lips parting involuntarily and the tip of her
tongue just touching her upper lip. She turned away and was silent. I came up
behind her and wrapped my arms around her from behind, my hands cupping her
breasts, my cock sliding across her ass. She wriggled a bit, trying to get free,
but I held her tight, feeling her nipples and noticing how erect they were.
Although she was certainly trying not to, her hips were rotating ever so
slightly, and I could feel her heart pounding through her breasts. I bent down
and whispered in her ear, "You want in Ann, don't you? You want my cock..."
"No...no..." her voice weak and uncertain. "Yes you do, I can feel your nipples,
your heartbeat. I'll bet your pussy is getting wet." I reached down with my
right hand, and she tried to fend me off, but it was obviously a half-hearted
attempt. My hand stole between her legs, and I felt them part slightly. Her
pussy lips were puffy and her hole was soaking wet. "Unnnnnnngh," she murmured,
and her head twisted from side to side. "Tell me you want it, Ann. Tell me you
want me to fuck you." I was really enjoying this, though from time to time it
seemed rather like a dream, and I was afraid I might wake up. "No...let me
go..." she whispered, but her legs parted farther, and I felt her reach around
to touch my cock with her fingertips. When she found it, she emitted a little
gasp and wrapped her hand around it, jerking the shaft slowly. "Tell me. Tell me
you want me to fuck you." "Ummmm. Yes, OK, I want it." Her voice cracked, and
she began breathing very hard. "Want what?" "Want your... cock." "Want it where?
Want me to do what with my cock?" I began to stroke her clit against her pubic
bone, and her hips bucked. "Ohhhhhhhhh. Oh, fuck me with your cock, fuck me,
fuck me, fuck me..." She turned and wrapped her arms around my neck, and I felt
her tongue probe my ear. I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the small
bedroom, which was right off the living room. I laid her down on the bare
mattress, her ass just on the edge, and spread her legs wide. Her pussy, such a
small, cute little rosebud, stretched and parted, the lips glistening in the
afternoon light. I rubbed the tip of my cock against those lips and up onto her
clit and she went wild, her shoulders and head thrashing back and forth, her
back arching. I gently pushed her tummy back down onto the bed, placed one hand
on a tit and held my cock with the other, and slid into her. She was incredibly
tight, and I could only get about half of my cock in her at first, though she
was very wet. Even so, her eyes popped open and her mouth formed an "o" of
surprise. "Slow, slow, oh god, take it slow..." She was pushing at my chest with
her hands, trying to get me to back out. "What's wrong, Ann. You're not a virgin
are you?" I was teasing her, but I also wanted to know. "No," she said, talking
between her panting breaths, "but I only did it once, a long time ago, and I'm
not use to this." "Randy?" I asked, and gave her two short strokes. "Ahhhhhhhhng,
um, no, it was back in junior high. You don't... ummmmmm... know him." "Gotta
know, Ann. Who got your cherry?" I stroked her again, each time going
fractionally deeper, and for several moments she did not reply, her eyes closed,
her teeth chewing her lower lip. "Uh, Stuart Dawes. Jesus, oh, ummmmmmmmmmm. But
his dick was ha half the size of yours, and... ohhhhhhhhhhh... it lasted about
20 seconds..." I laughed a little, which made her look at my face. Stuart Dawes
had been an acquaintance of mine in junior high, though I guess he had moved
away since I had not seen him in high school. He had claimed to have fucked Ann
Macafee after the CIF basketball finals, but no one had believed him. Thanks for
priming her, Stuart, I thought, and began to fuck her in earnest. All protest
from her ended as her pussy spread itself wide for me. She was holding onto her
knees, spreading them as far as she could, and in ten smooth strokes I was
buried in her cunt up to my balls. This was the best fuck of my life -- she was
so tight, so smooth, the internal contours of her pussy forming a perfect sheath
for my hard dick, and we pumped like a German machine. She began to come, her
orgasm reaching an intensity that was almost scary. Her face and breasts went
bright pink, her face grimaced, and her hands gripped her knees so hard that the
knuckles went white. I was loving the feeling, but since I had just come I had
no problem holding back, maintaining myself on that delicious plateau a man
reaches just before his orgasm begins. As her orgasm peaked, she began to talk
again, breathy, in a high, childish voice: "Owwwwwwww, yeah, yeah, ummmmmmmmmmm,
fuck it, fuck it, god, I love it, ooooooooooo... do me, do me, god, your
dick..." Finally she subsided, her hips lowering back onto the mattress, her
hands relaxing and letting her knees slip away. She smiled the smile of the
satisfied and wrapped her legs around my back, linking her ankles. "You close?"
she said, her eyes twinkling. "Um, yeah. Pretty close." I was damn close, in
fact. "Come in my mouth again." I was a little surprised at that, and my face
must have shown it. "I'm not on the pill," she explained, then after a moment
added, "and yeah, I liked the feeling of your come in my throat." That did it.
She was begging to drink my come. I could hold back no further, and I pulled out
and slid my groin up her chest, over her tits, and let her take me deeply into
her throat. In three hard sucks I was coming, the feel of her firm tits against
my ass accentuating the experience. I must have come more the second time than
the first, because quite a bit leaked out the corners of her mouth. After I
pulled out, she scooped up the come from her cheeks and sucked it off her
fingers. Her expression was one of wild lust combined with serene satisfaction.
We laid on the bed together for at least an hour, dozing in each other's arms.
Finally, I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly 6:00. I had to get
home. She got up when I did, and we stepped into the living room and dressed in
silence. Once we were dressed, I gently took her by the shoulders and sat her on
the couch, then sat next to her. "Well now," I said, "that was a very nice
beginning, don't you think?" She nodded, her face very thoughtful as she stared
at the window. "I think we could use some sheets on that bed, since I noticed
you got mattress-button marks on your back, and maybe next time we should bring
some refreshments. Think you can handle that, Ann?" She was quiet for several
moments, clearly thinking things out, then stood and began to pace around the
room as she spoke. "OK, look, I'm going to be honest here. I could try and tell
you I hated this, but it would be a lie. I liked it." "You loved it," I
corrected her. "Yes, alright, I loved it. And I want it to continue. But we have
to have some ground rules." She looked at me to gauge my reaction, but I held my
face passive. "OK, first, nobody finds out. Nobody at school knows anything
different is happening between you and me. Second, I do you, but not your
friends -- you can't even tell them. Third, you bring rubbers so I don't get
pregnant. Fourth, We don't do anything strange. You know, like tying up or
whipping or anything like that." "What makes you think you're in a position to
make conditions?" I asked calmly. "Come on. You've been playing this tough-guy
thing all afternoon, but you'd much rather go on fucking me than show those
photos. We can reach an agreement here, can't we?" "Perhaps. I'll address your
points one by one. First, I don't have any intention of telling anyone anything
-- but one thing has to change." "Which is?" "Which is that you have to stop
treating me like a fucking piece of furniture at school. When I say 'hi', you
say 'hi' back, you know, just like I was a person." She sniffed derisively, but
did not argue. "Second, my friends can find their own pussy. Third, rubbers will
not be acceptable for either of us, believe me, so you go on the pill or
continue to take me in your mouth. Lastly, 'strange' is in the eye of the
beholder, but I'm not a kinky person. You will continue to do what I say,
however." "Pulling out and coming in my mouth is not foolproof." "Then get the
pill." "OK. But I don't take it... in the ass." "We'll see. What about Randy?"
"He's a hood ornament. I don't need him." "What about Bill Arnold?" She looked
at me, and for a moment I pitied her. "He's my only coke connection. What can I
do?" "You're off coke, that's what. Look what it made you do... Besides, I'm
going to be taking up your free time with other pursuits." She stood at the sink
again, the light coming through the curtains now coming from a floodlight
outside, and I flashed back to when she was standing there naked, my come on her
chin and her come on her thighs. Incredibly, I began to get hard again. Ah, 16.
"Okay," she finally said. "It's a deal." She turned back to face me, and saw
that I had drawn my cock from my pants and watched it standing erect. A clear
lust appeared in her eyes. "God, again?" she said, and smiled slightly despite
herself. "You have a noticeable effect on me when you stand at that window.
Let's see how your cocksucking technique is coming along." One of the highlights
of my life was when Ann Macafee, queen goddess of the school, unparalleled
beauty, without hesitation and with the ease and obedience that comes from
repeating a familiar duty, gracefully knelt down before me to take my cock into
her pretty mouth.
Chapter 6 -- The Pleasures of Ann
It was raining hard outside, the torrential blast pounding on
the window over the sink, and she was taking me deeper than she ever had, my
cock sliding not only into her throat, but far into it; so far that her chin
rested between my balls on each long down stroke. We were not on the bed.
Through experimentation (wondrous hours of it) we had found that Ann could suck
me best if I sat on the couch, my ass at the edge, while I lay back. Ann had
brought several throw cushions from the main house ("Nobody uses that guest room
anymore anyway") and we used them under the small of my back to make things
comfortable for me. Ann would then kneel between spread legs -- she found that
she liked them spread wide -- to suck me. She put two of the throw cushions on
the floor for her to kneel on, this giving her the proper angle to deep throat
me. She would begin my jacking my shaft with both hands, gently, while she
licked the tip and glans, slavering her tongue all over my dickhead and allowing
a stream of her saliva to trickle down to my balls. Then she'd suck my balls
lightly until the dripping abated, after which she'd return to the head and lick
some more. She was waiting for my precum ooze to reach the proper state --
enough to lubricate my shaft. She had found that with enough lubrication of this
kind she could take me as deeply as she wanted to, with no discomfort. And deep
she took me. Ann had become, in the three weeks since our arrangement had begun,
obsessed with my cock. Sucking it deeply, taking absolutely all of it until
there was not even a fraction of an inch left to push down her throat, had
become a personal challenge. She also claimed that she never failed to have at
least two orgasms while sucking my dick. She had also perfected our fucking
techniques, finding that doggie style, her kneeling on the bed and I standing
behind her, was the second best position in terms of depth and angle. The best
position, she claimed (and I had to agree, actually) was where I lay on my back
on the bed, one of our infamous throw cushions under my ass, and she straddled
me, lowering her pussy onto my dick. She would lean forward slightly until her
tits were pressed into my extended hands, and then slide her cunt up and down on
my dick, her hips twitching and bucking as the pressure on her clit drove her to
delirium. My personal favorite was something of the reverse; she on her back on
the bed, a pillow under her ass, while I pumped her pussy. Conventional, but
satisfying. I did not get as deep that way, but the look of her in that
position, her tits swaying, her hair splayed out on the bed; well, let's just
say it was magical in its own way. Ann, of course, would do whatever I said.
That was the amazing part. We had met nearly every school-day afternoon at her
parent's garage apartment for the past three weeks, sucking and fucking for an
hour or two, and it seemed that each day she had become more and more willing.
It had come down to the point that when I arrived she was always there, always
naked, and always eager to get started immediately. On two occasions, on days
when I'd been slightly delayed, I could tell she had masturbated before I had
arrived. She wanted my dick, pure and simple. She'd even named it "Sir Richard,"
which she'd told me once as I was fitting it into her snug cunt: "Ohhhhhhhhh,
now let's get Sir Richard all the way in Ann's little pussy..." My eyebrows had
arched at that. "Sir Richard?" "Push, push, mmmmmmmmmmm. Richard, love, as in
'dick.' Oh, hurry up, and slide him alllllllllll the way inside me..." That had
been a week ago, and it seemed to me that she was by this time as passionately
interested in our situation as I was. If not more. I decided I wanted to get
some more photographs of Ann, for my private collection. I wanted nudes, of
course, and perhaps even a shot or two of her loving my dick with her mouth or
pussy. She had initially refused: "No. That's too much. You've got enough
pictures of me already, and look where they've got me." "Ann..." "I'm doing
everything you ask. I'm sucking your dick, I'm letting you fuck me. I'm doing my
part, even getting good at it. No more pictures." She looked determined. It
occurred to me immediately to threaten her with publication of the photos I did
have, but I was not sure that would work. She knew that I would rather fuck her
than ruin her, and it took some of my power away so long as she continued to put
out. But I had noticed her obsession building and decided to try and use it. I
said nothing more about the photos until about twenty minutes later, while we
were fucking. I had her on her back, and was pumping her pussy with long, deep
strokes while thumbing her clit with my left hand. I had taken care not to give
her too much too fast, since her orgasms were slower in arriving but much more
intense when I took my time in this way. When I sensed that she was about to
come -- her back was arching, her face was intense, her thighs quivering -- I
abruptly stopped, my dick halfway in her, and held my position. "Uhhhhhhh. No,
don't stop, I'm close," she whined. "I want to take some more pictures of you,
Ann." I moved my cock slightly and rubbed a spot very near her clit with my
thumb. "No, no, oh you bastard. Make me come, oh, make me come." "You want my
cock, Ann?" "Oh god yes, make me come Sir Richard I want to come so bad..." she
was lifting her hips now, trying to fuck herself on my cock, but I pressed her
down with my hand and gave her only short, infrequent, shallow strokes, just
enough to make her crazy. She was whimpering, almost crying. "Please, please,
god I wanna cooooome..." "The pictures, Ann. Agree to the pictures and you can
come. Say yes and I'll give you everything I've got." She started rubbing her
tits and tweaking her nipples, trying to make herself come, but it was no user.
Finally she said "OK, OK, you can take the fucking pictures..." "You swear,
Ann?" "Yes, yes, now fuck meeeeeeee! Make me come!" I laid into her with renewed
vigor, and she came almost immediately, in a warm and vast flood. As usual, her
come made her pussy instantly slicker and hotter, and I came too, our juices
mixing inside her. Afterwards, we lay for several minutes before she had the
strength to talk. "That was shitty," she said, but the bitterness in her voice
was distant, measured. "I want what I want," I replied. I had discovered in
myself, through this domination of our high school queen, a certain calm
ruthlessness that I had never known existed. I had not been as cruel to her as I
could have been, and that was a good thing to know too. I was strong, but no
monster. "Yes, that's obvious. You have an inhuman amount of self-control too.
How could you stop in the middle like that?" "It was not easy. But there's
another thing to consider here, Ann, and I wonder if you have thought of it."
She raised her half on one elbow, and her right breast rubbed deliciously on my
chest. Sir Richard began to stir, and I knew we'd be at it again very soon.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "You gave in, but not because I threatened you
with distributing the photos of you and Bill. I never even mentioned it. In
fact, I never do anymore." She paused to think, her fingers absently twining in
my pubic hair. "I guess you're right. I..." "You relented because you wanted my
cock. Suppose I burned the other contact sheet I have and all my negatives
tomorrow, not that I am about to, but would you want to stop our afternoons
here?" The rain outside began to fall even harder, making the roof like a large
drum. I could barely hear her when she said "God, you're right. It's not that
I'm afraid of the photos anymore. I'm hooked." She looked me in the eyes and
wrapped her hand around my now rigid dick. "I'm hooked on your cock..." She
began to stroke it lovingly. I smiled, and she smiled, and I said "Well, now,
Sir Richard would like a word with Miss Kitty." I pushed her gently onto her
back and began to position my dick against her hole. "Miss Kitty?" she asked,
her eyes beginning to flutter in response to the impending fuck. "Yes, love,
Kitty, as in pussy..." And I slid into her warm, wet tightness.
Chapter 7 -- Sir Richard and Miss Kitty Hit the Road
Ann owned a nice little red convertible VW Bug, which was, of
course, parked conveniently in the garage below our trysting spot. Our deal had
been that although within the walls of that garage apartment Ann would treat me
like the most intimate lover and sexual master, once outside in the world we
would behave as we always had -- as strangers. I decided to change that, at
least partly. I was taking the pictures she had promised to pose for: Click --
Ann standing at the window, demure, pretty, and completely nude. A profile shot,
accentuating her perfect breasts and the downy quality of her pubic hair. Click
-- Ann reclining on the sofa, pinup style, a smile on her face. Click -- Ann on
her knees on the bed, her index finger perched in her mouth, a teasing,
questioning look on her face. "Ann," I said, thinking about what shot I wanted
to take next. "What would you say to a little drive around town?" "I'd prefer to
put my clothes back on first," she said, wryly. She was still kneeling on the
bed, waiting for me to give her another pose suggestion. "Of course, of course.
I just feel like getting out of here for a while once we use up this roll." I
looked her straight in the eye, but she seemed to have no reaction to this
obvious breach of contract. After a moment she sat back on her haunches and
said, "We'd have to be a little careful, or course." Here it was. "Careful about
what?" "Careful my parents don't see us coming out of the garage. We don't want
to ruin our setup here, do we?" Again I was mildly shocked to hear how totally
Ann had come over to the side of keeping-this-going. Where I had expected her to
insist that none of her friends see her with me, as we had agreed, she had
instead been thinking only of the danger to our privacy. I must have
communicated my pleasure and surprise with the expression on my face because she
laid back, spread her lovely legs, and said: "Here's a shot for you. Miss Kitty
waiting for her gallant knight to..." she smiled mischievously, "drop in." We
both laughed at that, and: Click -- Ann on her back, legs spread wide, a broad
smile on her face as she shows her pussy to the camera. Click -- Ann fingers
herself lightly, face more serious. Click -- Timer shot, Ann with my dick in her
mouth, me standing frame right, she rolled on her side to take me. Click --
Timer shot, Ann straddles my cock, facing away from me as I lie on my back, her
face to the camera. Her hand is guiding me into her pussy. Needless to say, I
had no opportunity to set the timer again after that. She rode my dick like it
was a wild horse, turning in mid- fuck to face me, amazingly without letting my
dick slide out of her cunt. She came in short order, and I soon after that,
responding as usual to the flood of pussy juice that flowed from her and made
her cunt even more slippery. Ah, the wonders of the pill. Back then it was not
as easy to get, of course, but little rich girls like Ann Macafee could always
get what they wanted. We got dressed about fifteen minutes later and stole down
to the lower part of the building, which was the garage proper. Ann peeked out
the lintel window to see if her parents were on the porch, but they were not.
She got into the rabbit on the driver's side and motioned for me to get in the
passenger's seat. "I think I'd rather drive," I said, being a typical 16 year
old male. "Once we get going that's fine, but I think you should sort of slump
down in the passenger's seat until we get out of this neighborhood -- my parents
have friends all around here, and we don't want a nosy neighbor to blow the
whistle, do we?" "No, Ann. I much prefer the way you blow the whistle..." I
smiled. She giggled and patted the seat next to her. I got in, and we put the
convertible top up. I hunched down as she had suggested, amazed again at how
truly dedicated she had become to keeping our affair alive, and we sped off into
the afternoon. As it was I was pretty content to let her drive. I was not all
that good with a stick shift yet, but she was quite comfortable with it, so it
was easier to let her continue. Besides, I wanted to look at her while we
talked. In the sun, her hair filled with the wind (we had taken the top back
down again), she was more beautiful than ever. As I had dozens of times over the
past weeks, I thanked whatever stars I had for the incredibly good fortune that
had given me access to her. "So where to?" she asked, putting her sunglasses on
with one hand. "I don't know," I said, and I really did not. I had expected this
trip to be a problem, an opportunity to assert my authority over her again, yet
here she was perfectly willing, and I had nothing planned. "Why don't we get
some ice cream or something?" "If you want, but I don't like to eat stuff like
that." "Oh?" "I don't want to get fat. My mom and my sister are. It must be in
my genes somewhere. Mind if I make an alternate suggestion?" "Sure. Shoot."
"There are some nice nature trails near Lake Fornier, on the slope of Freedom
Peaks. We could go for a walk there." I agreed immediately. I had hiked those
trails as a little kid, but it had been years. I must admit, the thought of
walking with her and simply holding hands was strangely exciting to me -- which
was odd when you considered all the fucking and sucking we had done. In some way
a walk sounded even more intimate, though. We arrived at the trailhead with at
least three hours of daylight left, which was plenty considering the entire loop
was less than two miles long. Ann grabbed a blanket from the trunk of her car --
a rough looking thing that looked like it was used mostly as a car cover. "In
case we want to sit," she said, then added as she closed the trunk door, "or
something." Or something did not take long. Ann started like a bat our of hell
down the trail, slightly ahead of me, and I got to watch her fine ass move under
the folds of her green corduroy skirt for several strides before she stopped,
turned, and her out her hand for me to take. We walked down the nature trail
hand in hand. We had walked perhaps a half mile when she led me off the trail. I
had noticed that she was gazing at me with a strange look on her face for most
of the walk, and now she led me up a grassy slope to a stand of trees that
crested the hill we had been circling. The trees were growing in a ci
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