It was about an hour later when Cathy and Jennifer returned at last to the party. Chris was surprised as hell to see them laughing and talking together in soft, low voices as they walked across the sands, but he knew better than to ask any questions. The look Cathy shot him was proof enough that he was still in the doghouse as far as she was concerned.
"I'm ready to go home now, if you don't mind," She said to him. He shrugged acceptantly, and she turned to Jennifer. "Like a ride home with us?" she asked in a surprisingly tender voice.
"Oh, no thanks," Jen replied. "I think I'll hang out awhile longer. There's just my parents to talk to back at the house, and I'd rather put that off as long as I can."
"Okay," Cathy said and she leaned forward to kiss Jennifer's mouth with a very audible smack. "See you tomorrow, maybe?"
"I'd like that. Bye."
Cathy said nothing at all to Chris as they walked up the hill to where he'd parked his father's car. He wanted to make amends, to tell her he was sorry, but the iciness of her silence froze the words in his very throat. Later, in the car and on the road, he tried to speak. "Look, Oath, I'm sorry about tonight..
"Don't." she said. "I'm sure I don't want to hear it."
He shrugged complacently and returned his eyes to the road ahead. Well, damn it, he thought, it isn't my fault. He'd forgotten completely about Penny. Oh, he knew she was on the island with a couple of girl friends, but he hadn't seen her in a few days and he hadn't made it with her for a year or so and, besides, how did he know she'd be at the party? He didn't ask her to come on with him tonight-that was her own idea. And he sure didn't ask Cathy to play with what's his name- Harold's-pecker the way she did. It couldn't have been entirely accidental, he was sure.
What was really weird was the new friendliness between Cathy and Jennifer. This afternoon Cathy had been ready to rip the other girl's hair out by the roots, but tonight they were really honey and pie together. Like the way Cathy had smacked that slurpy kiss onto Jennifer, and in front of him. They'd been gone a long time, and he wondered what they had been up to out there in the dunes. He'd bet a thousand dollars they'd been screwing each other. Which meant that Miss Cathy wasn't so straight as she liked to pretend. He smiled at the thought. If the nirvana look on her face was any indication, she had certainly enjoyed whatever she and Jen had been doing.
Anyway-how long could she stay angry with him? She had hot blood and by tomorrow or the next day that blood would be boiling in her veins. She might be able to get some of her kicks fooling around with Jennifer, as she apparently had tonight, but she needed cock, too, and she would get mighty lonesome for his before too much time had passed. Let her squirm a little, he decided. Let her beg him for it.
All too soon the silent journey ended, and he
had pulled up in front of the beach house Cathy shared with her mother. She popped out of the car and he slid out, too, wishing at least to walk her to the door, to give her one last chance to take him back while she could still be dignified about it.
"Wait up a sec," he said, walking fast to catch her, but she had already clomped onto the porch, not even giving him a glance back. He reached for her hand and tugged on it, Cathy resisting him, trying to free herself, and she had just turned to order him to get the flick out when the front door of the house opened and Gwen stepped onto the porch.
"Hi, dear," she said to Cathy. "And you must be-"
"Chris," he smiled, supplying her with the name she couldn't quite recall.
"Chris. Of course. Home so soon?" she asked her daughter.
"It was a draggy party," Cathy grumbled, still trying to pull her hand free of Chris'.
"Oh, that's too bad," Gwen commiserated. "Well. Why don't you invite your friend inside for something cool to drink?"
"Oh, I'd better get home," Chris apologized. Cathy's mother seemed to be totally unaware of the tension existing between the teenagers.
"It's early," Gwen insisted. "Come on in."
Cathy went through the door first, followed by Gwen and Chris. "You go into the kitchen, dear, and get some Cokes-or would you rather have some beer or some wine, Chris? If you're allowed, that is.
"A beer would be okay," he smiled, watching Cathy as she disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open, then heard it slammed shut with vehemence. In a moment she returned with two bottles of beer and two glasses.
She divided them equally between Gwen and Chris then said, "Excuse me, I'm going to bed," and left the room once again. She slammed the bedroom door behind her and in another moment her stereo clicked on-Carly Simon, playing very loud.
Gwen looked at Chris with raised eyebrows. "Is something bothering Cathy?" she wondered. He thought it politic not to answer. "I'm afraid I don't understand her at all," Owen went on. "I've tried and tried, but there seems to be an enormous gulf between them.
Chris stood with a cool beer and a handled glass, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He wanted to leave. "I'd better be going," he said.
"Oh, no, Gwen assured him. "Sit down. The sofa's fine. And drink your beer. It'll only go to waste if you don't."
She sat down opposite him, on the chair beside her typing desk. Her portable electric was covered now, for she had just finished the final revisions on her article for the magazine, and for the first time in a long while she had no impending deadlines or other responsibilities. Time enough to begin making friends with Cathy once more, and to make friends with all Cathy's chums, too. This young man for example. She looked at him with a smile. He was a beautiful boy, she thought, as lovely in his own way as Cathy was in hers. There was such an aura of young virility, a pure and chaste virility like that of a Greek statue, about him. His body was lithe and nicely developed, and she liked his almost-blond hair, too, and especially the fantastic blue of his eyes. Indeed, he resembled Cathy just a bit. Like attracting like, she decided. A handsome boy and a sparkling young girl. That was what life and love were all about.
Chris stared back at her, trying not to be obvious about it. Cathy's mother-he knew that
her name was Gwen and that she and her daughter were on a first-name basis-was a fine piece of woman. Cathy would look much the same when she was fully matured, and that was a good sign. But it was still difficult for him to believe that Gwen was old enough to have a daughter his own age. She must have been a real child bride, he decided.
Right now she was casually dressed in a short-sleeved knit top that clung to the lines of her very fine tits and left her bare from just below the boobs to the waistband of her very short shorts. And they were the kind of shorts nobody's mother was supposed to be wearing, what with the way they rode low on her hipbones and cut high on her sleek thighs and fit like a tight glove around her crotch. Made of some sort of nylon, they seemed to be a size too small, and Chris was positive that if he looked close enough, he could see the outline of her goddamned snatch in the fabric between her legs. He poured his beer, trying not to spill any, and he took a sip that he hoped would help to cool him down.
Gwen looked around her typing table, searching vainly for her cigarettes. All she could find was an empty pack which she had crumpled earlier in the evening. "Are my cigarettes on the table, Chris?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence inside the living room.
He looked at the coffee table before him and shook his head. Gwen stood up, and he had to repress a whistle of appreciation at the smooth action of her legs. They were just as long, just as shapely as Cathy's, though her mother was built on a slightly more voluptuous frame, with bigger tits and an ass that was, if anything, just a bit nicer than Cathy's.
She walked across the room and he followed her
with his eyes, drinking in her every movement. "I had a fresh pack somewhere," she said almost inaudibly. "Where did I put them?" And then- "Oh, there they are!" and she went to the end table right beside where Chris was sitting.
Gwen bent over to pick up her package of Winstons, and as she did, her ass poked high and round into the air in such a way and in such a position that Chris couldn't help but stare at it. He closed his eyes for an instant and opened them again to find that vision of shapeliness still there, and so he took this as a divine beneficence. He reached out with one hand and smoothed it over the curve of her nearest buttcheek, testing the texture of her nylon shorts, feeling the warmth of the ass which they covered.
Gwen's eyes opened in surprise at Chris' laying-on of hands, and they opened even wider when she felt him slide a finger through her crotch, rubbing her from asshole to perineum to cunt through the thin barrier of her nylon shorts. She stood up slowly, straightening her back, and she put a cigarette between her lips very carefully, lighting it before she turned to look at Chris.
"Uh…" she began, startled to note that his finger was still touching her warm crotch. His hand dropped when she made the sound, and he looked up at her innocently, with a smile that was almost sweet, ingenuous even. And Gwen didn't know what to say. He was young enough to be her own son, and if she flared out at him in anger for daring to feel her up, she might stunt his sexual development irremediably.
Besides, she thought, what should she have expected? He was young, obviously he had sexual desires, and she was an older woman, admittedly, but an older woman wit a body that was still first-rate. It was a classic situation.
Good God, she thought, look at the way I'm dressed, too! No bra, clingy knit top which, thank the Lord, isn't quite see-through, and shorts that look like I was born wearing them. And I guess I must have given him a pretty good shot when I bent over. Obviously he thinks I'm trying to seduce him. The poor guy was probably scared half to death right now.
I wonder what she's gonna do, Chris thought idly. She didn't scream or anything. And she hasn't told me to get the hell out.
He looked at Gwen and she looked at him, neither of them saying a word. Chris broke the impasse. He stood up, saying, "It really is getting late. I should be going home. My dad will think I've piled the car up somewhere."
Gwen nodded, chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip. She hoped she'd done the right thing. It was so important that a young boy, making his first sexual overtures, be treated carefully-neither encouraged nor turned off completely, and she couldn't know yet if she had reacted correctly to his exploratory touching. Sometimes she wished she'd had a son as well as a daughter-it would have given her much better insight on child psychology.
"Well," she said, "good night, Chris," and she followed him to the door.
"Good night, Mrs. Corby," he called as he went around the front of his car. "Tell Cathy I'll see her sometime soon."
"I'll be sure to do that" Gwen replied, her heart beating with a rap-tap-tap of justification. Possibly-no, probably-she had handled the little incident in a calm adult fashion that would not leave permanent scars on Chris' psyche.
"I don't give a shit," Cathy growled across the breakfast table.
Gwen regretted her daughter's tendency to use gutter language, but in modern America even twelve-year-old virgins with prim angelic faces habitually spoke like truck drivers, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could, however, remind Cathy of her manners. "I was just telling you what he said, not ordering you to give him a hearty welcome. And really, Cathy, he seems to be a very nice boy."
"He's a grade-A asshole," Cathy replied bluntly.
Gwen finished her morning coffee and got up from the table. Her cigarettes were once again in the living room, and she went to fetch them. Bending to get the pack of Winstons from the coffee table, she looked towards the sofa and saw something that should not have been there. "Oh, my," she called, "I'm afraid your young friend lost his wallet last night." Gwen picked it up, dislodging the wallet from its wedged-in position between the back of the sofa and the cushion. "Do you want to take it by his place?" she suggested, at the same time flipping it open to check the driver's license and other identifications inside, simply to make sure that it did indeed belong to Chris, though it could have been the property of no other person.
"No, I don't want to take his goddamned wallet to him!" Cathy yelled, accidentally spooning an extra portion of sugar into her tea. She put the cup to her lips and tasted it, grimacing at the unexpected super sweetness.
"Never mind," Gwen called back in a voice that was suddenly very hoarse and choked-off. "I have to go out. I'll take it myself."
Cathy heard the front door slam shut, and she dashed into the living room. Gwen was already
getting into her VW outside. "You gonna be gone long?" Cathy asked, but her mother didn't hear or, if she did hear, did not answer. The engine started up and Gwen backed down to the highway, taking off in a speedy lunge of automotive power that would have drawn cheers at any drag strip in the country. Cathy shrugged and went back inside. She poured out the too-sweet tea and fixed herself a fresh cup which she made sure to close with the proper amount of sugar.
There was a knock at the front door, and she put down her cup.
Chris was standing on the porch, looking through the screen door. "Hi," he said, "I think I left my-"
"You did, but it isn't here now. Gwen left with it a few minutes ago. She said she was gonna stop by your place."
"Oh, was that her in the blue Volks? I thought it was. She mustn't have seen me when I waved."
"Probably not," Cathy agreed. "If you hurry, maybe you can catch her."
"It's not that important, if she's planning on leaving the wallet at our house."
Cathy made a half-turn. She was wearing only a thin robe, and she realized that it wasn't entirely pulled shut, so he must have had one last look at her goodies through the screen door. Tough shit. "Look," she told him, "why don't you run along now? I have to take a bath."
"Going somewhere?"
"Swimming with Jen, this afternoon."
"Why take a bath if you're going swimming?"
"Why do you need to know? You don't own me. What's the matter, anyway? Is that bitch Penny out of heat already? I supposed you'd be off humping her this morning."
"Cathy, listen!" He took hold of the door
handle and pulled it open, standing framed in the doorway.
"If you come inside, you'll be trespassing," she warned him. "I have every right to shoot you. It's the unwritten law."
"The unwritten law is all about husbands being able to shoot guys who screw their wives."
"Too bad Penny isn't married," she snapped.
He came inside, shutting the door behind him. "So shoot me," he said.
"I don't have a gun. But if you're still here when I finish my bath, I'll call the cops."
"They'll have to come over from the mainland on the ferry like everyone else. And by then it'll be too late;"
She turned away from him; eluding the hand that reached for her, and she went into the bathroom. Before she could close the door, he was standing beside her, arms folded on his chest.
Cathy turned on the tap and stood watching as the tub filled with warm water. She sprinkled bubble bath in and giggled childishly as her hand stirred the powder into suds. When she looked around, he was still there. "Wanna watch me bathe?" she asked. "Is that as much fun as screwing Penny What's-her-name?"
"You can be a bitch when you want to be," he observed. "A real, first-class bitch. Last night I made up my mind to wait for you to come back to me. I wanted to see you beg and crawl. This morning I woke up wanting you so bad it hurt, and I came over to tell you that. I think I love you."
She looked at him with lower lip suddenly trembling. "Is that just a line, or do you mean it?"
Chris went to her and swept her into his arms for a hello kiss that answered her question completely and honestly. She broke her face away from his, and he could see the little tears welling in
her striking blue eyes. "I think you do mean it," she said quietly.
His hands went down to pull open her robe, to find her nakedness beneath. He stroked her body, felt her jugs and her belly and her plump little cunt mound, and the robe fell to the floor unheeded. She purred at his touch, then flipped around and shut off the water which had by now half-filled the tub. "Bath time," she said, stepping into the tub. "You're welcome to join me."
"Invitation accepted," he said, throwing off his shirt, letting his pants drop. He wore no underwear and the falling of his jeans revealed his cock, already partially erect.
Cathy, sitting in the tub, made a sudden grab for his pecker, catching it in her hands, rubbing and rolling her palms under it till it stood up stiff and proud, the purplish knobby head beginning to peep from beneath its foreskin covering. He bent his knees slightly to bring his tool closer, and she responded by letting her tongue glide forth to dab wetly upon-his hard shaft. "Hi, there, big fellow," she cooed in a mock little-girl voice that made him laugh in spite of his seriousness of purpose, and then she opened her mouth, drawing his dick in for a suck of welcome.
Her tongue and lips moved skillfully upon his cock, and he thought wishfully of how nice it would be to let her suck him off right there-but she'd invited him to join her in the tub, and he wouldn't miss that for the sake of treasures untold.
"Bath time," he said, gently withdrawing his prick from the grip of her hands and lips, stepping into the water in which she sat awaiting him. It felt good to be lolling there in the sudsy tub with the girl he loved, Chris decided, and it felt especially good because the girl he loved was at that moment using her hands to fondle and stroke his rampant
cock, toying and playing with his manhood in a totally irresistible manner. He reciprocated, reaching out to catch her hard brown nipples between his fingers, rubbing them into telescoping erectile points of tingling flesh.
"Do you really love me?" she asked him suddenly, her face growing serious and reflective. He nodded. "More than anyone else in the world?" He nodded again. "I'm glad," she announced, "because that's how I feel about you, too. That's why it hurt me so much last night when-"
"Don't even talk about it," he commanded, pulling her through the water and onto his lap. She snuggled atop his loins, her boobs rubbing his chin, her hands wrapped around his neck and head. His stiff cock was pressed against the abundant fur of her cunt, riding in the slit of her crotch.
"How long have you known her?" Cathy asked, ignoring his request.
"Years," he replied resignedly. "Ever since we were little kids. She's always been sort of like a favorite cousin."
"Some kind of cousin," Cathy commented. "What the hell do you do to your aunts?"
He laughed. "You've got a dirty mind. For your information, Penny was the first girl I ever laid."
"Oh, shill" Cathy squealed. "You're kidding!"
"Cross my heart and hope to die. We were-I don't know-twelve, maybe. And one summer my dad and stepmother and her parents all got together for a week or so in the mountains, and Penny and I spent a lot of time by ourselves. So one day we got to talking about sex and decided to try it out."
"Was she any good?"
"Okay, I guess. After all, I didn't have anything to compare with."
"Was she as good as I am? Was she ever as good as I am?"
"I don't remember. It's been so long since I've done it with you."
"Bastard!" Cathy lifted her hips from his legs. "C'mon, stud, refresh your memory.
He reached into the gap she had left and seized hold of his pecker, guiding it into Cathy's soapy snatch. There was a squishy, sloshing noise as he made his entrance, but once inside her cunt, he found his prick gripped and cuddled in what had to be the nicest pussy in all the world, and it was only fair, Chris decided, that he give her the best fucking of which he was capable. He proceeded to do that very thing.
Cathy made ga-ga eyes as she took his meat into her cunt, and she began to corkscrew her hips up and down upon his rod, taking it on the way home with sighs and moans that showed precisely how much she had missed him.
Chris put his hands on her tits, squeezing them around his face, kneading and massaging the firm young mounds, pinching nipples to make her squeal in glee, occasionally using his tongue upon the inner curves of her boobs and upon the brawn caps of sensuous flesh. She cuddled him against her bosom, wishing to drown him in the love she felt swelling inside her body, all the while continuing to fuck herself up and down in that close-clasped sifting position in the tub. It was delightful and delicious, and she felt sexy and slutty and every inch a pawn-up sensuous woman at that moment.
"Oh, Christ!" she said suddenly, slamming her twat down upon his cock, giving his balls a shaking jolt that was near to sending him prematurely into ejaculation.
"What's wrong?" he asked, positive she hadn't came already.
"This is crazy!" she informed him. "I don't
know how long Gwen is going to be away, for Christ's sake. If she comes back and finds us in the tub screwing, she'll pitch a bitch. It'll make the Six Day War look like a poker game."
"Fuck faster," Chris suggested.
"Don't make jokes," Cathy shrilled. She tried to un-cunt him, but it was no use. He held her tightly, showing no sign of a wish to release her body. "C'mon," she pleaded. "My mother will shit herself."
"That's a physical impossibility," he said. "Besides-I don't care. For one thing, she's not my mother, so she can't do anything to me. And I won't let her do anything to you. She's just gonna have to get used to having me around, because I'm here to stay."
"You're crazy," she announced; "But I love you for it." Her hips began to swivel once more, and she started riding him again, forcefully, assuredly, secure in the protecting shield of his love.