"Fuck me! Fuck my ever-loving twat out! Fuck me so hard that it bleeds! Come on and fuck the shit out of it! You're not even trying! What the hell is the matter with you? Can't you get that God damn boner to move?!? Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" She could see it sliding in and out of her pussy. She could see the thick root, and she could see her flesh lips spread to accommodate such a large and thorny trunk. She reached around his buns and grabbed on. "Fuck me harder!" she wailed. Her ear-piercing screeches could be heard throughout the house, up and down the block, across the city: "Fuuuck mmmeeeeee!" Sharon Pettibone rolled over in her sleep. What she thought was a scream was her own tiny voice barely audible against her pillow. The jumbo phallus evaporated. Her twat was empty. "Jesus," she grunted, "why the hell couldn't it have been real?" She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. "Just once, Lord," she murmured, "I would like to have a real penis in my pussy. Just once. That's all. Nothing special. I'm not asking you to fix me up for life, to get me married – just a simple little fuck. Know what I mean? A nice piece of cock flesh inside my little lips, just so I'll know for sure what I'm missing."
"Is that you, Sharon?" asked Debby, Sharon's sister. Debby was just waking up too. "Are you talking to yourself again?" Debby rolled onto her elbow and looked at Sharon. The girls looked enough alike that they were often mistaken one for the other, but really Debby was the older, and, naturally, the more experienced. "What time is it?" she moaned at Sharon.
"I don't know and I don't care," said Sharon who pulled the sheets up tight around her head. She wanted to go back to sleep, back to her dream where there was a big man with a big boner. He was pounding her twat with a huge of hard-on the likes of which she knew she would probably never find in real life. She wanted to go back to that fantasy of love's wishes granted. She could see him mounting her, sliding his hands up her thighs and spreading her loins. She could feel his fingers rubbing her soft, comely legs apart. She felt her supple flesh give way to his kneading fingers, and she looked down between their two bodies where his cock playfully bounced alongside her furry mound. She lifted her legs outwards and gave him room to move in. "Come on," she muttered. "Come on in and screw me up good. It'll fit. Don't worry. I can take it. Just jam it in there and FUCK ME!" She lifted her knees and her smooth and tender loins opened for him. He smiled and leaned down into the breach. "There," he gasped, "is the kind of a twat worth looking at." She had pulled open the lips, spread the hairs back out of the way, and prepared the channel with a steady flow of ooze. Everything was oily. He dipped on finger in, just to be sure, and down it went. There was no friction – everything was smooth and slippery. He teased her clit and pulled his finger out: "You're soft, baby, and I'm gonna love fucking you with my big hard prick muscle. You know what I mean? I'm gonna love shoving my prick down that alley!"
"Sharon? Sharon? Are you awake?" It was Debby again. Sharon opened her eyes, gave up the fantasy of the big man with the big ideas. "What is it?" she asked, coming reluctantly back to reality. "I was having a little dream and every time you wake me up."
"I'm sorry," said Debby, "but it's time to go to school." Debby climbed up out of her bed. She was nude and Sharon watched her sister prepare for school. Unlike herself, Debby had little titties with pert nipples. But Sharon couldn't figure it out. No matter how much bigger her own breasts were, the guys still went out with Debby. They still asked Debby to go out before her. She watched Debby as the older girl stood in front of the mirror. Debby's hips were a little wider than Sharon's and the hair around Debby's cunt was a little darker blonde than Sharon's bush, but other than that, the girls looked pretty much alike. "Shit," grumbled Sharon, "I sure do wish that I was the one who was popular."
"Some day soon," said Debby. "Don't you worry. They'll be pawing you like bears paw honey. Don't you worry." Debby pulled her two titties into place in her bra. She slipped gracefully into panties. Sharon wondered why her sister bothered with that stuff. It was common knowledge that at least once a day she fucked her boyfriend. Why bother with getting dressed in all that stupid clothing if you were just going to have to take it all off during lunch? Sharon knew for a fact that when the time came she herself would wear no underwear, no bra, and the loosest skirt possible. A quick fuck would be the best possible thing that could happen to her, and there would be no sense in cluttering it up with a lot of useless old fashion equipment. She smiled as her sister turned to her and said: "Don't you think you ought to get up, too? We had to be at school in a few minutes."
"Later for that," said Sharon. "I don't want to do anything right now except lay here in bed." She reached down between her legs to scratch an itch on her thigh.
"Oh, I see," said Debby. "You have something down there you have to look into? Is that it?"
"That's nasty," said Sharon. "You mind your own business!" She picked up a pillow and threw it across the room at Debby who was easily out the door and away before the pillow hit anywhere near her.
But that was all fine with Sharon. For the younger Pettibone girl wanted only to be alone. She wanted to have just this opportunity to get to her mound. She slipped her two hands down between her legs and spread the perfect little twat lips there. It only took her a moment more to get a finger up against her clitoris, which, incidentally, was quite hard. She pulled and pushed on the rubbery little clit button, and then she took to pinching it off in a steady rhythm. "Mmmmm," she hummed to herself, "this is the way to wake up in the morning."
She'd have gotten herself good and greasy, but just then the door to her room swung open. "Darling," said Mrs. Pettibone, a rather attractive woman in her own right, "it's time to be getting ready for school." She was all smiles and good graces when it came to talking with her daughters. "You don't want to be late now, darling, do you?" Mrs. Pettibone didn't notice that her lovely daughter Sharon was busily rearranging the sheets so that she wouldn't be discovered masturbating herself as she was. "No, Mom," she said, "I don't want to be late, but I don't want to infect all those kids at school with SWINE FLU, either."
"What?!" screamed Mrs. Pettibone. "Are you ill, darling?" The teenager's mother started to race toward the bed. But Sharon lifted a cautious open palm. "Stay over there, Mom. I don't want to be responsible for killing my mother. Just let me sweat it out!" Mrs. Pettibone stopped dead in her tracks. "Is it that contagious?" she asked, backing off just a little.
"I don't know," said Sharon, reaching a hand secretly under the sheets and back down to her wet twat, "but I don't want to take any chances." She found her clitoris upright and ready for a quick little massage. Now if only her mother would leave her alone.
"Well, darling," said Mrs. Pettibone, "I'd better call the doctor and…"
"No doctors!" hollered Sharon, taking her hand out of her pie. She couldn't believe that her mother wouldn't leave her be just for a while. "Please, Mom," she said, "I think this thing will take it's normal intercourse, I mean its normal course if we just let it be." Mrs. Pettibone, confused and dumbfounded, nodded and then shook her head as she backed out of her fifteen year old daughter's bedroom. She shut the door behind her.
"At last," sighed Sharon, "I can get my fingers down to the place where they can do the most good." And with that she reached both hands down between her spread loins and she lifted her thighs and knees. "Ahhh, yes," she breathed a sigh of relief, "now where was I… oh, yes, he was just about to enter me."
She pictured a big strong fellow with a tight erection. He was leaning into her pie, pressing the head of his meat up between her twat lips. He had a hard-on the size and thickness of the Eiffel Tower. He wasn't the kind of a man who would take no for an answer, and in this fantasy, Sharon Pettibone wasn't the kind of a teenager who would even think of shaking her head. She gave him free reign, and she even opened up those tender dark lips of her pussy and said: "Come on in, mother fucker, and stick me hard. Give me that big hot muscle of yours; or are you afraid?"
"Afraid of a douche bag twat hole like you, honey?" answered the fantasy man with the big flesh projectile. "I got a cannon that blows away little girls just from the noise it makes. So you get that pussy pie of yours ready, babydoll. I'm gonna fuck you black and blue."
"Promises, promises, promises," moaned Sharon. Then she reached down and took hold of the Monster Man's phallus head. She took the mushroom head and pressed it up against her clitoris. She switched her hips back and forth so that the man's meaty stick would go sliding against her pussy button, rubbing against her twat lips, making her hole as hefty and juicy as possible. It was nice for her to feel so much sexual stimulation in one place at one time.
"Aren't you going to lick my titties, too, Mr. Monster Man?"
He smiled back at her. "Gimme those things," he said. He leaned over her tits and started gobbling. He worked those two hefty mammaries up and down with just his tongue. The giant from Jack And The Beanstalk couldn't have given her a better tonguing. The Monster Man's tongue was everywhere, licking and sucking, making it with her nipples and giving her the kind of chest thrill that she was looking for. It was oral delight for the two of them.
But just when things were getting good and hot, just when Sharon Pettibone's pussy was starting to leak at full strength, and just when the room was beginning to take on that musty scent of clit juice and ooze, the telephone started ringing. "Jesus fucking God," cried Sharon, "can't a girl get a little peace and quiet around here!" She reached out from between her legs and answered the phone. It was her father. "I forgot my briefcase, Sharon, darling, and if I don't get it right away, I won't be able to sign a very important deal. Would you mind bringing it into the office?"
"Daddy," pleaded Sharon, "didn't Mother tell you I was in bed with Swine Flu?"
"Sharon, little darling, your daddy's been around a lot longer than that. Now get out of bed and get into a cab and bring me my brief case." The line went dead. Sharon slammed the receiver with the hook. "Jesus fucking Christ," she moaned, "if I had plague he'd make me come in there." She climbed out of bed and dressed herself in pajamas and a robe. She didn't bother locking up the house. She took the brief case, tied her robe shut, and strutted down to the corner, a fairly major boulevard where, in bathrobe and pajamas she hailed a cab.
In the back of the cab, having given the cabbie directions to her father's office, Sharon spread her legs out. She reached down between her loins and hoped the cabbie couldn't see what she was doing. "Fuck," she murmured to herself as she discovered her still erect clitoris. "This is going to be alright after all." With her free hand she lifted her father's attache case over her lap and used it for camouflage. She rubbed her cunt with the satchel sitting on her knees. "Mmmmm," she hummed softly, and soon the happy image of the Monster Man and his magic flesh wand came back to mind. She saw him sharpening the tip of his flesh sword, honing it into a fine ready blade with which he was going to puncture her virgin ribbon. She spread her legs and yelled at him: "Come on you mother fucker and stuff me up good! Give it to me hard so I can have me some memories to tell the grandkids, eh? Ha, ha, ha. Come on and fuck me, Monster Man. Or is that meat of yours better called Monster Midget Meat? Ho, ho, ho…" He came at her with his flesh cock ready to cut her up good. He stuffed her with it by spreading her legs with his hands and entering her in one long stroke. He jammed down deep and filled her to the gills. She rolled and rocked and twisted around on the impaling giant's sword. She was pinned down like a cute little earthworm with nowhere to go. From now on she would be nothing but bait…
The cab pulled to a stop in front of the Handprick Building where Mr. Pettibone worked. Sharon, coming to from her backseat bliss, handed the cabbie a fiver and told him to sit tight. The cabbie, no dummy, smiled, winked, and waited. Sharon took the elevator upstairs.
On the fiftieth floor a guard asked Sharon: "What the hell are you doing going around in a bathrobe, young lady?" She smiled, turned her back on him, and pulled up the back of her robe, and let down her pajama bottoms in order to give the aged guard a look-see at her rear hole. "I'm going for a stroll," she shouted at him looking upside down from between her legs. The guard grabbed his chest, heaved backwards as though he'd been shot at close range and fell over. Sharon stood up and continued on her way to her father's office.
"Mmm," she said, entering the door marked PETTIBONE, "something smells good in here…" The secretary and a delivery boy disengaged. They had been French kissing over the secretary's typewriter when Sharon entered. "Ahem, yes, ahem," coughed the secretary, "Miss Pettibone, may I help you?" The messenger took a seat off to the side. Sharon couldn't help but eyeball the young man's tumescent crotch. "Well, yes," she said, sitting down next to the messenger and putting the attache case on her lap, "I have a parcel for my daddy." She smiled demurely and when the secretary looked the other way she reached over into the messenger's groin. "Just testing," she said. "Mmm, nice and firm. See ya," and with that she stood up and smiled, having teased the man nicely, ready now to move on with the day's business. She turned back to the startled and frustrated youth and said: "I'd go all the way but I got Swine Flu!" The boy backed into a corner and covered his mouth: "Get away!" he shrieked. "Get away you wench! Are you trying to kill me? Get away!" Sharon coughed and the lad nearly struck her down. He would have, too, were it not for the fact that just then Mr. Pettibone came from his office and strutted out with a bright cherry smile and said: "Where's the case, Sharon?" Sharon lifted the case, and, without saying even one single word to her father (he had, after all, ruined her masturbatory day), she turned and marched, still in her bathrobe and pajamas, out of the office. "Feel better, darling," shouted her father after her, but the office door was already swinging shut.
In the hallway, a great many people were gathered around the guard who had fallen to the floor. Now he was just coming to when Sharon happened by on her way out of the building. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she walked by, and the guard nodded and then started to say, "That's her!" But before he could finish his sentence, Sharon had pulled open her robe and spread her jamies so that her big left tit blazed in a flash of creamy flesh which caused the guard to pass out again. He grabbed his chest and flopped down, this time dead.
On the elevator, pressed to the back by a crowd of no less than fifteen, and under the camouflage of her robe, Sharon reached into her pajamas and started to play with herself again. She wanted to be good and hot by the time she got back into the cab and was on her way home. She flicked her clit, without anyone seeing her, several times in a row. She even moaned softly from time to time, but she tried to time these passionate outbursts with the stopping and starting of the elevator, that way not bringing herself to the attention of the various passengers. On her way out of the elevator she couldn't resist reaching out and grabbing a quick little pinch of the elevator attendant's butt. She was surprised when the attendant squeaked at her: "That's enough of that, all day long the same thing." He was a woman.
The cabbie had waited as planned. He honked from across the street when Sharon appeared out of the swinging glass doors of the Handprick Building. She ran through traffic, amidst screeching breaks and stalling suddenly stopped cars, and made her way into the back seat of the cab. "Jesus," she moaned. "I don't understand why people go to work like this. It doesn't look like a whole hell of a lot of fun." The cabbie pulled out into the late morning traffic.
On the way back home Sharon began to think about what it would be like to really make love with the messenger she had met upstairs in her father's building. She had never been so brazen as that before, and the feet of the messenger's cock in her fingers certainly did give her little heart a good start. She was properly primed, she decided, for more of the same. "Jesus," she moaned to herself, and she slipped her two hands under her robe down between her legs where she could feel and play with herself as she saw fit.
She imagined a couple of guys and a couple of girls, one of which was herself, out on the beach screwing their brains out. Only this time the boy she was with was not the Monster Man. He was a young volley ball player named Rick Ostoyja who had countless times told her how much he loved her in school. Only Rick wasn't the most attractive guy around, and Sharon couldn't figure out why she'd thought about screwing with him. After all, in her head she had the choice of any man with any meat. Why not chose some handsome actor type or something? But she went with Rick in the fantasy, and she enjoyed the thrill of getting his hot hog into A-1 shape. She rolled it between her two palms, treated it like a tortilla, and before long she had turned the fantasy worm into a huge, fleshy snake – one that she was sure would be happy to coil up inside her tube. She spread her legs wider and continued with her masturbatory enjoyment. "Mmmmm," she hummed to herself, "I sure do wish I could get the real thing." She didn't know it, but the cabbie had overheard her.
When they finally pulled over in front of their parents' house in the suburbs, she started to get out of the car from the right side. But the cabbie came around and told her that he wanted to help her out. She didn't mind that, but she didn't like the tone of his voice. She lifted one leg and her pajamas and robe spread out. The pajamas were cut at the thighs, and Sharon's legs were in perfect sight for about five seconds. The cabbie leaned down and took a sassy stroke at that fresh warm flesh. The teenager slapped him across the face and yelled: "It's for your own good!" She scrambled out of the car, passed the stunned driver. "But I thought you were looking for the real thing," he protested holding his cheek. "Fool," she retorted, "I'm looking for the real thing, but I've got SWINE FLU, and that's why I can't do it with anyone this week. See?" She scurried off into the house and wondered if she'd made a mistake in passing up the advances of the cabbie.
That afternoon, finally, after all that running around, she located herself in her bedroom with the door shut. She'd showered, she'd taken the phone off the hook – there was no way in the world, she'd calculated, that she could possibly be interrupted. And with that thought in mind, she slipped a diligent digit into her pie. "Ahhhh, yes," she moaned, feeling the chills spread up and down her thighs. "Oooooh, nooooo!" She was so happy to be fucking herself with her fingers that she couldn't believe how lucky she was. "At last," she said with her eyes closed, "I'm going to be able to give myself the good little poking that I deserve." And off she went, into fantasy land, rubbing her twat hole as hard as she could while her mind helped to conjure up images that would give her even more sexual stimulation.
First she flagged down the image of a big black stud. He had a pole on him big enough to go fishing with. And as for his natural strength, he could have been a road runner or a pole vaulter. He was easily the strongest man she'd ever fantasized fucking – that day, any how. His meat was big, and she climbed up onto his mid-section, spread her legs and squatted. She took the entire head of his big thick joint into her sweetly spread twat lips. "Nooooww," she moaned like a big cow, "that's nize! Really nize!" She rolled her hips on the black man's meaty joint, and she enjoyed the thrill of a poker puncturing her tube with lusty zestful strokes. "Mmmm," she hummed at him, hanging her titties over his sweaty black face, "give me more, honey. Give me more of that black fuck rod!"
A moment later the juices in her pussy were so full and so hot that she thought she was boiling over. The insides of her cunt started belching out ecstatic cries for more meat. She thought she heard her twat slopping at the empty afternoon air: "Fuck! Fuuuuuckk! Fuuuuuccckkkkk!" She rolled up and down with her fingers. Her clit was stiff, her lips tight, her insides mellow with hot ooze. "Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking damn bicycle!" she hollered. "Fuuuuucccckkkk!"
She reached under her buns and stuffed a good hot finger into her anus. She located the tip of the digit in her bowels. She spread her anus open, pulled her cheeks wide, buried her finger in her soft rump flesh. "I love it," she moaned softly. "I really do fucking love it." She discovered that if she turned her body sideways and showed herself to the mirror, she could watch her finger go sliding in her anus. She did that, and then she applied a second finger to her pussy, filled her delicious little cave with her finger while she pumped her bunghole at the same time. She had a finger in either pelvic hole, and there was to be no stopping her. "Mmm," she juiced and hummed at the same time, "I love a little twat work out."
She popped her two fingers out of her belly holes. She stood up and looked at her bedraggled figure in the mirror. "I like me a lot," she said. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the image of her lips in the mirror. She went sliding her body up and down against the cold glass. It didn't bother her that the glass was cold. It was her body she was interested in, and so, while she pumped her titties up and down against the mirror she also used her finger from the other side of her body, to enter her ass hole and to sexually stimulate her there. She rubbed and tugged on her sphincter until more and more of her body was hot and juicy and ready for the actual orgasm she had been looking for. "Mmmm," she hummed, pulling away from the mirror, "this is good for a little while, but now I need something in the front hole, something to finish me off…"
Sharon Pettibone went off to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator while she kept a finger up her pussy. She didn't want to cool off. She kept stroking her clit while she inspected the contents of the frig. She wanted to be sure that that clit meat of hers stayed hard. She looked in particular at the vegetable tray. She located a big carrot, the kind of monster vegetable that she figured would give her the real-life feel of a cock muscle. She stroked it and then removed it from the bin. She shut the refrigerator door and panted for a moment while she stood, legs spread, feet planted, in front of the closed appliance. "Jesus fucking God Almighty," Sharon cried, "I don't know fucking what to do! Jesus fucking Christ!"
She stood there in front of the white fridge with her finger pushed up her twat. Juice leaked down the inside of one leg. She attacked herself from the rear with the carrot. She had intended to clean it, but she was now so carried away with her emotions that the only thing she could think about doing was shoving it. She pushed. She jammed it in. She crammed as much of that carrot up her tight little sphincter tube as she possibly could. She worked it up and down, in and out, and she gave herself a better cleaning than roto rooter could ever think about. She tugged on her sphincter with the point of the carrot and prayed to God that someday she would have a real man with a big cock who would shove it up her ass-hole and into her twat and even into her ear if he wanted. She wanted to get laid with a real penis, with something that would make her feel good, with something that would give her the orgasm that her teenage flesh craved for. She wanted it bad.
"Jesus fucking Christ," she moaned, falling to the floor in a heap. She curled up in a fetal ball. She pulled her legs up close to her chest and slapped her thigh with one hand. "Cum on," she grunted, "cum on, cum on, cum on…" She moaned and groaned while she groveled there on the linoleum. She could smell the fresh wax that her mother, Mrs. Pettibone, had applied the other day. It was an erotic, fresh smell, like deodorant and sweet. Suddenly desperate, Sharon went along the floor, on her hands and knees, licking the shiny surface of the kitchen linoleum. She had the carrot shoved up her asshole and her tongue spread out in front of her. She looked like a big ant-eater, only her long silky blonde hair and her sweet hanging boobs, these things gave away the fact that she was merely a depraved human teenager. She rubbed her face against the floor while the carrot bounced up and down in her rear, a vegetative tail. "Mmmm," she hummed having licked her fill, "I sure do wish that Daddy were home to give me some advice on this. I wonder if I'm sick to get off this way." But she loved the taste of the fresh floor wax, the feel of the smooth surface of it against her lips. She went sprawling out on the floor, rubbing her titties against it, sliding her feet apart and her loins wide and she reached back and started poking in and out of her butt with the carrot. "Oh, Jesus, fuck, shit, piss, cunt, ass, Christ, oh, fuck, shit, oh…" and she moaned on and on as she swam around on the slick floor of her mother's kitchen like a child who hasn't yet been taught to walk.
A few minutes later, still not satisfied, Sharon Pettibone climbed into the shower. She turned the steam on full and enjoyed a good hot rain on her body. She scrubbed at the scuff marks on her belly, places where dirt from the floor had pressed up against her chest and stomach and legs. She used a big thick bar of soap to go scrubbing between her thighs. She soaped herself until her entire skin was smooth and slippery, oily with the sudsy stuff. Then she slipped a finger into her pussy and another into her asshole and she gyrated. She rolled her hips up and down, she pushed her mound around in a steady circle motion, and finally she began to scream and cry out so loud that neighboring housewives could hear the precious moans of the child lover, and they wondered to themselves if the young girl was being attacked or something. They didn't know what to do.
But Sharon just continued rolling around on her two fingers, pressing her clitoris and wondering when the final cuming would be. She wondered when she would become orgasmic and when she could stop fingering herself. She ended up sitting down in the tub with her two long legs spread and raised so that her heels were up on the sides of the tub. She had her loins open, her clitoris throbbing, her pussy leaking and ready for action. She had her titties erect and ready for all sorts of fantasies. She had her twat so wide open that an elephant trunk could have gone snorting up her snatch without even knowing it. She let her eyes open wide and she jammed a hot finger all the way into the back of her beaver cave. She filled her body with digit and rubbed herself harder and harder. "Ooooh, fuck," she grunted. "Oh, Jesus, fuck, shit… piss, cunt, ass-hole…" She was on her way to ecstasy. She knew that orgasm was only a stroke or two away, that a stab or two more would put her pussy up into the land of bliss and heaven, that her sexual fantasy of total oneness with the sensual world would be finally fulfilled.
"Ahhh, fuck, yes," she moaned, sliding down flat in the shower-tub. The water continued to rain on her as she finished fingering her clit into erection. She pulled her hand out and took some shampoo from a tube. It was green ooze which she applied to her belly and spread around. She made herself as slippery as possible with that stuff, and then she applied some more of it to her asshole. She used one finger in her anus and the other in her twat. She poked both holes simultaneously. She pretended two big hot cock meats were sliding against her body, one from the front, the other from the back. Then, boom! It hit her. She was on her way. She was going to cum. She was getting so hot that she couldn't stand it any more. She could feel the big hot and cold chills starting up inside her body, getting ready to take her away on a magic carpet ride taking her up to the land of Godly ecstasy. She was going to float with it, going to enjoy her slick flesh covered with goose bumps. She was going to cum and cum. And cum!
The next thing Sharon Pettibone knew she was recovering. She didn't know exactly what she was recovering from, but she had a carrot in her hand and she was turning off the shower nozzles. She tossed the orange vegetable into the trash can under the bathroom sink and grabbed a towel. She was only halfway dried when she heard the front door to the house open up. She rushed to the bedroom. Her sister came in and found her sitting in bed. Sharon looked up from her pillow and said: "How was school today, Debby?"
"Oh, just fine," said Debby, taking off her blouse and sitting down. "It sure was hot."
Sharon sneezed.
"God bless you, darling," said Debby. "Are you sick?"
"God bliss me," murmured Sharon. "And he did, too."
"What's that?" asked Debby.
"Oh, nothing," said Sharon. "I just have a touch of the swine flu. How was school?"
"Never mind," said Debby, disturbed for some reason. "I'm sure it wouldn't really interest you."
"Well," said Sharon Pettibone, "for once in your life you're right about something, Debby. Ha, ha, ha!"