Reversion - A Novel Part 2

Rubbers donat seem to come in different sizes. At least, Phyll reported as we relaxed after our first good f.u.c.k, size is not marked on the boxes and she was afraid to steal one of each for a comparison. aThat must mean youall grow a lot,a she commented reflectively while gently working me between thumb and fingers. aBut Iall admit, I love your little thing just like it is.a She shivered. aItas big enough to send me to heaven.a aTo heaven, my sweet?a She laughed fondly. aaMy sweet!a Yes, and thatas big enough. I just wish you didnat have to pull out.a aIall grow pretty soon,a I told her, anearly another couple inches longer and fat enough to stretch your rubbers.a She chuckled, looking up at me. aYou are so confident! Did you see your fatheras?a aUh, yeah,a I lied. Boys almost never see fatheras c.o.c.k erect. I never had.

She got off the bed, stretching. Her wet belly glistened.

aWhere are you going?a I asked.

aTo the bathroom. I feel sticky. Want a c.o.ke?a aSure.a Her body had seemed almost excessively big at first; now it was sweetly Rubenesque. From my low angle on the bed I could study the l.a.b.i.a rippling between fat cheeks as she walked to the door. I wondered if she would tolerate a.n.a.l penetration. A small c.o.c.k might be an advantage there, I thought. It was an avenue I had accessed only two or three times in my life. Being drunk as a lord each time, I had no clear memory of it. How to approach her with the idea a" as a contraceptive, perhaps?

I was toying with one idea or another when she appeared in the door, c.o.keless, and called my name rather softly.

aWhereas my drink?a aI want you to do something first.a She spoke in a low, secretive voice. aGet up and go to the wall next to the side window, but donat look out yet.a The bed was under her dormer window. The bedroom, half of her motheras second floor, had another window in the side wall at 90 degrees with the sloping dormer wall. I obeyed her, taking my station just to the left of the side window.

aNow put one eye around the edge. Look at the Graden house, the upstairs window that matches this one. What do you see?a I looked. Something round and gla.s.sy was visible between the curtains behind the gla.s.s, about as large as two fists. aWhat in the world is it?a aItas the objective lens on old Mr. Gradenas refractor.a aHeas got a telescope?a aHeas an amateur astronomer. He let me look through it a lot this summer.a aDid he! Well, well! Do you suppose heas been watching us?a aI donat know. I saw it from the kitchen window. And Iave seen it there before. It might be just a coincidence. He may store it in that position.a aSure. About as likely as me tripping on the rug and my c.o.c.k falling into your p.u.s.s.y.a She giggled. aWell, that wouldnat be so unlikely just now!a aI wonder how we could prove he was on the other end of it. Hmm. Donat astronomical telescopes show their images upside-down?a aOh, Iam sure he has an inverter.a Suddenly I had an idea. aYou got a hand mirror?a aOn the dresser. What are you going to do?a Her dresser was on the other side of the window. I backed away, walked nonchalantly to the dresser and slid her mirror, a six-incher, in front of me. Pretending to be a ballet dancer, I slithered sideways, my back to the window, holding one arm out straight while the other compressed the mirror to my belly. In a moment I was again beside the window.

I called, aGo downstairs and watch from that angle. With any luck, if heas looking youall see the telescope move. Let me know when youare ready.a aI see what youare doing!a she exclaimed with a wide grin while disappearing from the doorway.

An afternoon sunbeam was barely edging into this window. I held the mirror close to it and waited. In a moment I heard her call, aOkay!a With my eye just past the edge, I brought the mirror fully into the beam. Its reflected spot of light was easy to position on the house across the intervening yard, then into that upstairs window.

I had a pretty good idea how looking into the sun through a wide-open telescope would affect someoneas eye. The lens in the far window swung sideways. For a split second my beam illuminated the gaping face of old Mr. Graden. A hand, probably the one whose rise deflected the telescope, covered his eye just before his face vanished below the beam.

Phyllis came up the stairs, laughing, as I returned mirror to dresser. aTimothy Kimball, you must definitely be the smartest boy in this town!a She strode naked to the side window and s.n.a.t.c.hed down the shade. aThere! Thatall fix him.a I regarded her soberly. aI suspect youare about to get a phone call.a aFrom a from him?a aHow old is Graden? Have you ever heard?a aOh, yes, heas talked to me a lot. Heas 66. He retired last year.a A year younger than I! aIf he calls, let me speak to him.a Just at that moment the telephone downstairs began to ring. Phyllis looked at me wide-eyed. aIad better answer it in case itas Mama.a I ran just behind her down the steps. She lifted the receiver. ah.e.l.lo?a It rattled in her ear. aJust a minute. Someone here wants to talk to you.a She held it out to me. aHe wants to know if we think weare smart.a I said, ah.e.l.lo, Mr. Graden. Iam Timothy Kimball.a He snorted. aOh, I know who you are!a aAnd I wanted to tell you, weall put it back up.a aJust wait till I get a" What did you say?a aWeall put the shade back up.a When the only response was silence, I added, aYour eye will return to normal in a few more minutes. The overload was too brief for permanent damage.a I could hear him breathe. After a moment he asked, still with a bit of bl.u.s.ter, aWhat do you think you mean about the shade?a aThe mirror was a childish prank. I hope you understand that.a ad.a.m.n the mirror! What did you mean?a aKeep watching, Mr. Graden.a Gently I hung up the phone and turned to Phyllis, staring at me with a horrified expression. aWhat do you mean, akeep watching?aa aYouave been out with him at night, havenat you, to watch the stars?a aWell aa aWho was with you?a aMama.a aEvery time?a She looked away.

I chuckled. aWere you teasing him along?a aTimmy!a I took her in my arms standing naked in her motheras downstairs hall beside the telephone table. She had to bend to put her head on my shoulder. Her tears wet it. aI was afraid it would k-kill him, Timmy,a she blubbered.

aHe had chest pains?a aEvery time he a touched me. We had to quit.a aWhen was the last time?a aIn August.a aBut he never made love to you?a aOnly a with our mouths.a aYou knew he was watching us this afternoon, didnat you?a aAnd the other morning in the bright sunlight. He was so excited about that. He made photographs.a aYouave seen them?a aYes.a aThen why did you call my attention to his telescope?a She sighed. aI donat know.a aYou wanted to prove something to him?a aI guess aa She sighed again, heavily. aI guess I wanted to see what youad do. You keep surprising me, Timmy. I thought you were a little boy, that I was robbing the cradle. I called you my living doll. But you arenat, are you?a She stared at me penetratingly.

aWhat are you talking about, Phyllis?a Her eyes narrowed. aYou know exactly what Iam talking about, donat you a" much better than I do! Compared to you, Bobby is the little boy!a I remembered the name on the front gate: Robert Graden. I had to chuckle. aYouare forgetting one thing.a aWhat?a aI donat have chest pains.a Her eyes rounded. She licked her lips. aNo, you donat.a aLetas go back upstairs.a She followed willingly enough, even put the shade back up herself. She did not hesitate to suck me up and fall back expectantly with her legs wide. This time as I was coming I crawled up her body and shot the last couple of squirts into her mouth. I crouched on her shoulders, my c.o.c.khead dribbling on her chin. aDo you still want me to visit you, Phyllis?a aPlease,a she said simply, blinking up at me.

aWhat if you could have Bobby instead?a aBut I would kill him!a aTell him to describe his symptoms to the doctors. They can give him some pills that will take away the pain.a aWhat kind of pills?a I grinned. aAs ridiculous as it sounds, pills made from nitroglycerin. Iam certain that by 1947, the medicos know about nitroas relief of angina.a She stared at me. aYouare knees are hurting my shoulders.a I got off her and began to round up my clothes. aSee if you can find it at your pharmacy: little white pills of nitroglycerin. It really works.a * * *

I thought about Graden that night. It was easy enough to put myself in his shoes. Phyll had told me more about him: his deceased wife, oppressive daughter-in-law, his solitude during the day when both son and wife worked. Apparently he maintained his interest in life by reference to two hobbies: astronomy and Phyllis. On Wednesdays she sometimes played checkers with him after school. Shy smile. Nude in his upstairs bedroom. Wider smile. That is, she used to.

Obviously she had enjoyed t.i.tillating him. Her virginal willingness to take, even to swallow, my seminal fluid ceased to be a mystery or even a marvel. Nevertheless I imagine she was truly surprised when I unhesitatingly licked her to frenzy on our first tryst in the weeds. I made a note for future reference: let them persuade you the first time!

But he never took her maidenhead. I doubted her explanation that she feared killing him. More likely he feared its disclosure during her next doctoras visit. I would have. What was the age of consent in this state in 1947? That I could not remember, though I must have known it a bit later in my teens.

Thursday afternoon I knocked on Gradenas door. I heard dragging footsteps. Phyll had reported his b.u.m leg. He opened the door. His eyebrows rose. We stared at each other. He stepped back and I walked past him into the room. He closed the door behind me and we faced each other. Though of course bigger than I, he was not a big man. He had gray hair and a gray mustache on a wrinkled, florid face. He wore slippers, slacks and a frayed white shirt with the tails out.

He looked me up and down. I knew what a slim, blond, delectable sight I was to him, almost as if I could see through his eyes. Which brought up the question in my p.u.b.escent contralto, aYour eye is all right today, isnat it?a aYes,a he admitted.

aIn fact, it was recovered in time to watch us again, wasnat it?a He took a breath. aWhy did you come here?a aFirst, to apologize.a His mouth gaped. aTo what?a aYou were doing no harm, but I can think of circ.u.mstances where I might have ruined your eye.a aYou think I was doing no harm? Then why did you flash the mirror?a I shrugged. aI am a kid, you know.a aHuh! You donat sound like it.a I chuckled slightly. aDonat I? Show me your telescope.a aYou canat see the stars in the daytime.a Of course he was nervous. Head had a night to think, too.

I looked into his eyes. aBut you can still take pictures.a He hesitated. aWho sent you here?a aNo one sent me, Bobby.a He blinked. aPhyllis told you about us, did she?a I nodded. aEnough to understand that you have both been lonely.a aAnd who have you told about us?a I smiled and shook my head. aIam not a s.e.x reporter, Bobby.a He studied me, frowning, and sneered, aDidnat your mother tell you not to address adults by their nicknames?a aNicknames are used between peers. Donat let the appearance fool you.a His eyes widened slightly and he took a breath. aYou said you came first to apologize.a I nodded. aSecond, to see your telescope and your photographs.a aSo you can run and tell the cops?a I shook my head. aDonat be paranoid, Bobby. No one that I know wishes to harm you in any way.a He barked a laugh. aImagine a kid like you even knowing that word! All right, Timmy, come on upstairs.a To my surprise, this house was laid out as a mirror-image of the Shaeferas, though both were built long before Levittown. He led me up the stairs and through the right-hand door on the landing, where Phyllas bedroom was to the left. The old manas bed was neatly made, pushed back against the interior wall. His astronomical telescope, a respectable five-inch refractor a" with an equatorial mount, even! a" occupied the center of the room. The enclosed prisms of an image inverter were attached to one end. A star diagonal, a Barlow tube and several eyepieces sat on a tray between the tripod legs.

He stood back and watched while I looked it over. aHome made?a I asked over my shoulder.

aHome a.s.sembled. I bought plans and suba.s.semblies.a aYeah, I wouldnat expect you to build the equatorial mount, but you ground the lens, didnat you?a aFrom a quartz blank,a he agreed. He took a breath. aTim, how can you know what you know? Can you possibly be so interested in astronomy?a I grinned. aOnce upon a time. This looks to be a very creditable job, Bobby. Have you made diffraction measurements on your objective?a aNo, but I think Iave seen Procyon B.a He one-upped me there. I admitted it. aIave heard that resolving binaries is an old method of evaluating telescopes. I take it Procyon B is a tough one?a He grinned. aMaybe too tough. Youare supposed to need a bigger telescope than mine for that one. But Iave seen something next to Procyon!a I stooped slightly and looked through his eyepiece a" into Phyllas bedroom. Her neatly made bed lay across the middle of the field. I asked idly, aHow much have you seen next to Phyllis?a I saw him reach a decision. He went to a desk and took some photographic prints out of a drawer. I noticed a lensless bellows camera atop the desk, probably for Type 120 film, if memory serves.

He put the prints in my hands: eight-by-tens in black and white. The top one was clearly Phyllis, sprawled naked at the foot of her bed in very bright sunlight, large b.r.e.a.s.t.s glowing, knees raised. A blond head was buried in her crotch, attached to a back arching out of the picture. Her own head was drawn back in ecstasy, obvious even in profile.

aShe and I last Sunday morning?a I asked.

aYes.a In the next she was sucking a small c.o.c.k. I had only turned over; she had turned around. The sunlight was full on her face and the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The contrast in both photos was very high and dramatic. In the last one, the third, my hand held the c.o.c.k, caught with a white streak between the tip and her chin. Her eyes were scrunched shut but she was grinning with a white blob at the corner of her mouth. I said, aYou snapped this one at just the right moment, didnat you? How did you watch a" through the spotting scope?a aYes, of course.a Of course. Exacta was just now inventing the single-lens reflex.

aRemarkable work, Bobby. Who developed these prints?a aI did. I have an enlarger and a small darkroom set up in the next room.a aThese were skillfully done.a aThank you.a He sounded ironic.

I put them back in his hands. aYou have many other pictures of Phyllis, donat you?a He took a breath. aIs that what this is about? You want one?a aNo. I see that you are competent with telescope and camera. You also have pictures of her doing as much with you, too.a It was not a question.

His mouth worked. aWhat do you really want, Timmy?a aFirst I want to find out why she called you to my attention yesterday.a aDid you ask her?a aShe said, to see what I would do.a He chuckled bitterly. aIam sure that was the truth.a aBut not all the truth.a aNo.a He sighed. aLetas sit down. I canat stand around all day like a young boy.a He gestured to one end of his bed. He sat facing me at the other. aWhat are you, Timmy, some kind of midget?a I chuckled. aLook at that picture of my c.o.c.k. Whatas missing besides size?a aHair,a he answered immediately, not needing to look.

aAlmost everything about me is consistent with a twelve-year-old boy, Bobby. Almost.a aYeah,a he agreed sarcastically, aalmost.a aActually, Iave thought of a reason for her behavior that nearly checks out. You wouldnat take her virginity, obviously, despite your long-duration affair with her. I may even know the reason for that, one of them, at least. She was reduced to conferring her greatest favor upon a twelve-year-old boy. I saw her Tuesday night. She was just healed enough for v.a.g.i.n.al intercourse. She talked to you sometime before Wednesday afternoon. I would guess that you turned her down again, though when did you have time?a He took a deep breath. aShe came to see me Wednesday morning.a aWhat? She didnat go to school?a He grinned slightly. aShe sounds exactly like her mother on the telephone. She called herself in sick, pretending to be her mother, then came over here.a aThen thatas it. You turned her down again.a He sighed. aYes.a aDidnat she tell you of her new status?a He stared at me. His lip curled in derision. aYou thought I refused because she might squeal on me if a doctor discovered she was ruined!a aYou had another reason?a aYou little a" What will she do now, when her future husband discovers that sheas ruined?a That set me back. I stared at him. He had truly loved her, as if he were the hypothetical husband himself. Her announcement a" I could just hear it, aOh, Bobby, Iam no longer a virgin. You can do me now!a a" must have fried his pride to a shriveled remnant in the rancid grease of jealousy.

aHow bad was it?a I asked softly. aDid you call her names?a aNot out loud.a He sighed deeply. aI told her to go on to school.a I shook my head. aThe world is changing, Bobby. World War Two opened a lot of eyes, male and female. Her future husband wonat care, especially if she catches him young, and you and I are training her for that, you know.a aWould you marry her?a he sneered.

aIn a minute, if I needed a wife. Which I donat. Does she visit you here, in this room?a aShe has a few times, when my son and his wife have gone somewhere. We study the star atlas. She is absolutely fascinated.a aI know,a I said without sarcasm. aWhen do they go out?a aFriday and Sat.u.r.day nights they usually go to the movies.a aAll right. Phyllis will bring you some pills Friday night. When you get dull, achy chest pains, especially ones that go to your upper arm, put one pill under your tongue. It may give you a headache, but you can finish what you started.a His eyes widened. aA medical doctor, too?a aNo, but Iave talked to enough of them! And Bobby, I want to come with her Friday night.a aDo you!a He looked me up and down. aJust what did you have in mind?a I grinned at him. aYouave seen how a pa.s.sionate young woman handles a boy. Letas say Iad like to see how she does with an old man.a * * *

My G.o.d, how could I have forgotten Mrs. Potter?

First I saw her name on the main library desk: Amelia Potter, looked up and there she sat, watching me with that same slight, Mona-Lisa smile which had driven me crazy about her 55 years ago a" and again now. Her long auburn hair was up in a bun, wisps dangling. That calculated unkemptness in a womanas hair makes her seem to have escaped just now from a pa.s.sionate clinch. Her oval face was smooth with a touch of rouge on her cheeks, lips outlined in red lipstick that was always nearly worn off by the time I saw her in the afternoon library period. The small boy in me had already presumed her a G.o.ddess, one he was prepared to worship from afar for the rest of his life. The old man agreed with his judgment of her beauty and added a mouth-watering appreciation of b.r.e.a.s.t.s jutting behind a white linen blouse, willing to believe in a svelte figure with wide feminine hips below the desk. No waif this one: here was the ideal of mature feminine physical perfection.

I stared at her as the memories of her affectionate att.i.tude toward me came rushing back, especially toward my regard for the books that were her first love. I also recalled, however, that she had disappeared from the school near the end of this same semester, never to be seen again; rumor claimed she was pregnant by a student.

aWhatas the matter, Timmy?a she asked in her breathy voice, perfect for a librarian or for a.s.signation in a crowd. aDo I have food on my face?a I walked closer until my hips pressed the desk and said softly, aNo face is more perfect, Mrs. Potter.a Her brown eyes widened and eyebrows rose.

I added, aI was staring, wasnat I? Iam sorry, but itas your fault.a She produced an amused sniff. aVery smooth, Timmy! Have you been taking lessons from an older brother?a aNo, maaam. Iave merely begun to notice people.a Her brows knitted with interest. She recovered her slight smile. aSomething has changed, has it, Timmy?a I permitted myself a slight smile of my own. aSome people are a lot more interesting than I realized.a aAbout half of them, Timmy?a aWhy, yes!a I agreed as if the idea surprised me. aExactly half of them!a Her eyes crinkled knowingly and she chuckled deep in her throat.

I added, staring into her eyes, aBut even in that half, some are many times more interesting than others.a She blinked, holding my stare for a long second. She licked her lips. aAnd you have reached that conclusion just this week?a I lowered my voice just above a whisper and retorted, aI think I reached it in the last minute or two.a Again we stared into each otheras eyes. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaved as she took a deep breath. She seemed to change the subject. aAre you still interested in Renaissance art, Timmy?a A quick internal consultation reminded me of her reference. It was almost a joke. At the start of the year she had caught me drawing a moustache on a print of da Vincias Mona Lisa reproduced in one of the Weekly Reader comic books that schools circulate to children. What boy hasnat? She had made me squirm, more from her obvious disappointment than the healthy sarcasm she had served, comparing the years of da Vincias labor to my few seconds of aimprovement.a aMore than ever,a I answered, wondering where her question would lead.

aStill want to put moustaches on women?a I fired across her bows, aNot until I have a moustache.a And I licked my lip.

Her face brightened and her chuckle returned. aAre you certain you donat have an older brother?a aI donat need one.a She reached a decision. aIf you want to see art that might really interest you, be on the corner at Jeffersonas Dime Store 15 minutes after school.a She turned away from me and said solicitously to a girl who had just walked up, aWhat do you need, Mary Ann?a * * *

She stopped her car in front of me on the corner, leaned across and pushed the door open. aGet in.a I hastened to comply.

It was a new a47 Chevy coupe straight six, according to my small boy, who knew all about cars. Detroit was producing civilian vehicles again by now, though the shortages resulting from the great pent-up wishful backlog were only beginning to work out. A brand new car was still rare. It even smelled new, of rubber and paint. I showed her an admiring face. aGolly, a new Chevy!a aIam glad you like it,a she said sourly. Seconds thoughts were clearly eating her. aI canat believe Iam doing this.a I responded, aI canat believe how lucky I am.a She snorted and glanced at me narrowly. aI think I ought to just take you home, Timmy.a aAre you worried about favoritism, Mrs. Potter?a Her eyebrows rose. aFavoritism?a aBecause if you are, Jeffersonas Drugs doesnat have a soda fountain. That was smart. No kid saw you pick me up.a aYou saw me!a aWhy did you say it like that?a aWho did you tell, Timmy?a I didnat answer immediately. She spared me a searching glance. Finally I said, aI am proud of this, Mrs. Potter, but I wouldnat tell anyone about it.a aWhy not, if youare so proud?a aTwo reasons. If you wanted it told, you wouldave said to meet you in the parking lot.a aVery good,a she responded dryly. aAnd whatas the other reason?a I deliberately looked away and pitched my voice lower. aIf I told anybody, you might like him better.a aEh? Say that again.a I repeated it, looking directly at her this time. She chuckled. aI like that reason. When do you have to be home, Timmy?a aBy six oaclock. How much further is it?a aA couple of blocks. Iall have you there on time. And Timmy, when weare alone, away from school, call me Mealy, will you?a aWouldnat you prefer Amelia?a aNo. Mealy has the right a texture.a Crumbly? Common as meal? The old man didnat think it would be smart to ask her exactly what she meant.

She had an apartment in a row most likely built just before the war, with parking at the rear. We saw no one else while moving from car to apartment. We entered from a stoop at her kitchen door. In the next room I could see the front door that no one ever used, which opened to a small park. Idealists should never be allowed to locate houses.

aCare for a c.o.ke?a she asked, tossing her purse on the table.

aYes, I would.a Efficiently she whipped out tumblers from a cabinet, ice cubes and a c.o.ke from the refrigerator and a bottle of Canadian Club from a drawer. c.o.ke splashed into one gla.s.s, whiskey into the other. She handed me the c.o.ke, tossed down a slug of booze, made a face and followed it with a sip from the c.o.ke bottle.

I took a long pull of the c.o.ke and thanked her for it. She studied me over the rim of her gla.s.s without answering. I added, aDo you have a hammer?a Her eyebrows rose. aA hammer? For what?a I poured my ice on the sink drain and looked at her. aTo break the ice.a For a second her eyes were blank. Was I guilty of another anachronism, of using an idiom not yet in vogue? But she laughed shakily. aTimmy, I guess Iam nervous.a I nodded. aSo it seems. You donat usually have a snort when you first get home, do you?a I smiled. aBut youare only going to show me some art.a aI should have asked: how old are you, Timmy?a aWho said, aAge as the criterion of maturity is itself an immature judgment?aa I grinned. aNevermind. I said it.a She sniffed. aItas very important in at least one respect. This change you recently noticed: does it involve a a new form of expression?a Somehow I didnat think she was referring to art. aYes. A wet form.a aBut it didnat surprise you?a aI had been told to expect it.a aMay I ask a where you first noticed it?a I let my eyes twinkle. aAs a matter of fact, I was standing in front of a full length mirror.a Her face told me this didnat answer her question, then it cleared, as perhaps she realized it did. She squared her shoulders and murmured, aI have such a mirror, too.a I set my gla.s.s on the table. aWhere is it?a Her gla.s.s joined mine. aFollow me.a As she led me along a short hall, I asked, aWhose art shall we study, Mealy: G.o.das?a We entered a frilly, feminine bedroom, where she turned to face me. aI wouldnat call it that.a I shrugged. aCall it the art of blind evolution. By any name I think you must be a superb example.a She kicked off her medium-heel shoes and turned her back to me. aThis is easier with help.a Her blouse had a long row of b.u.t.tons half way down the back. As I started to untwist them, she said, aMay I conclude you like my looks, Timmy?a aVery much, Mealy.a aWhen did you realize it?a aI have loved your face since I first saw it. Today I noticed the rest of you.a aAnd?a By that time her blouse was loose. I reached into the flaps and unhooked her bra.s.siere. She pulled the blouse tails out of her skirt. Blouse and bra.s.siere went over her head and fell to the floor. Still with her back to me, she unb.u.t.toned her waistband. Down went skirt and panties to be stepped out of. She turned to face me at last, wearing only nylons supported by a hip-hugging garter belt. She was everything I had expected: narrow waist, slightly rounded belly with no motheras mark, wide hips, tapering thighs, and a thick auburn bush in the center. Her erect nipples were dark with crinkled areolas so small as to appear virginal. Mrs. Potter! She could hardly be a virgin.

I took a deep breath. aRubensa women were a bit too plump for my taste. Mae West was his kind. I prefer the mid-century American ideal.a I had to sigh. aAnd you are it.a Her eyes twinkled. aBut not Mae West.a aJane Russell, if I had to pick one, though she doesnat hold a candle to you.a aaJane Russell!aa she repeated with a sneer. aNow you sound more like age twelve.a I grinned. aYou mean age 16. But weare speaking of your physical attributes.a aSo we are. On that subject, what about yours?a I was naked in a jiffy. When I stood upright before her, my little c.o.c.k poking straight out, she took a breath and said regretfully, aYou promise to be a handsome man, Timmy.a I grinned again. aI am already more of a man than I seem, Mealy.a Her eyes narrowed with interest. aYou say that with such confidence!a aPerhaps I have reason.a Her bedroom was too neat. She would never countenance staining her flowery counterpane. aTurn down the bed, Mealy.a She complied and turned with a wry expression to regard me from the edge.

I gestured. aAfter you, madame.a You have to play them as you find them. I had resolved earlier to let a new woman lead me, but here I was taking charge. She certainly responded well. Her lips parted with ineffable irony, but she lay back smoothly upon the bed, raising her long pale legs spread apart on the sheet. I crawled around them and bent to her. Though I didnat plan it that way, my first touch of her person was tongue to c.l.i.t. She twitched. I tweaked the firm little lump in a narrow circle as my hands stroked her hips, my nose buried in her crinkly auburn hair.

She trembled slightly. Her hands caressed the hair of my head. aTimmy,a she asked, awhat are you?a I chuckled through my nose and increased the speed of my tongue, though not the pressure. My hands rose over her smooth belly to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The nipples erected immediately in my palms.

Soon her hips began to rock. aOh, G.o.d, Timmy,a she murmured. Her hands closed on my head, directing me into the center. I firmed my tongue and lashed her. She whimpered, hips rocking harder. aAh, ah, ah a"a she stuttered, then produced a contralto moan that was almost a scream and forced my head away from her.

I sat up, grinning, and wiped my face on the bedsheet. Her body writhed.

Her eyes glared at me. aIf youare so smart, surely you know what comes next!a So I sagged immediately between her legs. She gasped as I entered her. I donat think women are indifferent to c.o.c.k size, but the advantage of the missionary position is that even an inch or so, along with a slight pubic bulge above it, is enough to put rhythmic pressure on the c.l.i.t. Some women, by no means a majority, go wild from cervix taps, awomb stroking,a which require at least four or five inches, though just as many consider them painful and a turn-off. But all react well to repeated compression of the c.l.i.t by the join between c.o.c.ktop and pad. The woman herself will maximize it, if she is aroused, by rocking her hips back and forth in time with the manas thrusts. Mealy met me coming and going, so to speak, lifting my knees off the bed whenever she rolled her hips forward. I could barely feel her cervix at the end of my stroke. Her arms squeezed me into her soft t.i.ts and her mouth sought mine with her tongue probing.

Her body was decidedly larger than mine. I was reminded of s.e.x in the insect kingdom, where males are routinely inferior a" and routinely consumed by their mates. This comparison was strengthened when her hands slid down my back and cupped my a.s.s cheeks, forcing me to full penetration, seemingly trying to stuff my entire pelvis into her hot, wet center.

Of course I came too soon. When she felt it, she relaxed. Hands and legs fell away. She laughed. I backed off her wonderingly.

aAt last!a she said, still chuckling. aThe kid shows up at last.a I nodded sheepishly. aAs you said, immaturity is important in some respects.a aYes, but the disadvantages can also be advantages.a Her eyes twinkled. aItas all a matter of timing.a She raised her arm. aLie beside me and snuggle, Timmy.a With alacrity I tucked myself in beside her and turned toward her on my side, my head on her shoulder, squeezing the nipple of a breast with a hand half its size, my leg thrown over her thighs, c.o.c.k dribbling on her hip. Her arm slipped around my back, fingers lying in the crack of my a.s.s. Her other hand stroked my leg from b.u.t.tocks to ankle.

aAh, Timmy!a she breathed. aYou are the work of art here.a aThe lesser of two,a I agreed, grinning.

She chuckled with pleasure. aYou do like me, then.a aOf course. But your a.s.sumption about immaturity is wrong, Mealy. An old man would have lasted no longer in such pa.s.sionate beauty.a She c.o.c.ked her head to look into my eyes, not inches from her own. aAn old man! Youare sure of that, are you?a aI am.a aIf you say so.a Her lips stretched in a smile. aI have never known an old man so well.a I started to contradict her but held my tongue in time. Itas interesting how the ultimate intimacy inspires confession. Then I recalled: this was 1947. I had just committed a grave faux pas for 1947.

aMealy, I just realized a My selfishness has put you at risk.a aYour selfishness?a Did she admit to some complicity in our present circ.u.mstances? Well, of course the world would a.s.sign all the blame to her.

aAre you counting on very youthful s.e.m.e.n containing mostly incomplete gametes?a aWh-what?a She smiled slowly. aI had to think to understand what you meant. I know youave read a great deal, Timmy, but how can you possibly know all this? How could you know to lick me a just there? You are the first man to do it.a I smiled. aFirst man?a She nodded. aIam beginning to agree with you: you are far more man than you seem.a aBut not the first person?a aOh, girls do it for each other sometimes,a she responded deprecatingly. She grinned. aAre you interested in my s.e.xual history, Timmy? I doubt itas longer than yours, despite your age. I came as a virgin to my husband. We learned to enjoy each other so sweetly! Then he died on a French beach.a She shook her head. aI really donat know what Iam doing this afternoon, what it means for either of us.a She added a sigh. aI just hope Iam not doing harm to you.a I could have laughed but remained carefully serious. aNo, Mealy. You are doing me no harm.a Harm to herself was a different question.

Her hand in my a.s.s pressed my half-hard c.o.c.k against her hip. aYou are so pretty, Timmy, but your eyes are so old. I could tell they were seeing through my dress, into my soul. Something about you, even though youare only a boy, melts me, makes my knees weak. G.o.d only knows what you will do to other women as you grow up! But I wanted more than your eyes, Timmy. I still do.a aIam sorry about your husband, Amelia.a aIn a way Iam not. You would make me unfaithful to him.a She pulled away from me. Hands on my hips turned me onto my back. She knelt low beside me. She took one of my hands and pressed a nipple into the palm. Her head descended and her mouth enclosed my entire genitals.

The hand on her t.i.t suggested her motive was only to stiffen me. I caught her around the waist. aLet me lick you at the same time, Mealy.a She swung her hips over me. Clasping them, I pulled my face up between her legs. Subtlety was hardly necessary. I stroked her c.l.i.t firmly. In a few seconds she moaned and fell off beside me. I clambered atop her and we f.u.c.ked a" which is the right word. Nothing else in the world mattered for those long minutes. When I finally came again, after many of her climaxes, we were both slick with sweat. She held me atop her, panting, while she licked my neck and ear.

Finally I remembered what I had wanted to ask her before. aShouldnat you douche?a Her breath patted my cheek as she chuckled. aI think Iall count on a" what did you call it? a" incomplete gametes.a We said little more. She dropped me off a block from home and sat in her new car, watching me skip away down the sidewalk like a kid.

Phyllis met me at Gradenas door. aQuick, come on in!a she ordered, pulling on my arm, glancing furtively around at the windows lit in her own house. I had wondered briefly at the lack of a porch light. This explained it.

I followed her upstairs to the old manas bedroom. aI didnat doubt youad show up,a he said by way of greeting.

aDidnat you?a I only laughed. Despite his half-hearted acceptance, I felt more at ease with the three of us than at any time since the reversion. These two knew I was weird in an unfathomable way, that only my physical characteristics were those of a twelve-year-old. Yet they not only accepted it but seemed to be comfortable with my strangeness. I could say nothing too outlandish for them, though only half my truth was sufficient for that.

Phyllis was giggly nervous. She was a s.e.xually excited girl who expected to be f.u.c.ked silly that evening by two guys for whom she cared. I really donat think she would have been happier with a couple of the sweetest hunks in her high school. We, Graden and I, promised her a unique, less ba.n.a.l s.e.xual experience. Ba.n.a.l is perhaps the wrong word, because the girl was still inexperienced, and would likely find the carnal offerings of a young buck far from tedious. But unique we certainly were. She would never have the blissful opportunity to enjoy the s.e.xual delights of another hairless, androgynous beauty without restraint or inhibition, however modest his pretty c.o.c.k, while at the same time enduring a genuinely dramatic challenge to avoid f.u.c.king an old man to death.

He seemed willing to take that risk. He sat in his chair and glanced smugly back and forth at the two youths without questioning why we would consider him a valid s.e.xual partner. Phyllis might perhaps feel an honest affection for the old coot, but he was little more than a stranger to me. Though I imagined that beneath his clothes was a grotesque ancient body, hairy, bulging and frail, the thought of physical contact with such decrepitude did not revolt the young creature I appeared to be. Rather it was the memory of myself as I had appeared not so long before a" and would appear so long from now a" that was disgusting. It was not the vision of a sleek youth coupled somehow with a used-up body that was distasteful, it was the image of two such bodies in a s.e.xual embrace. I resolved to avoid his feeble c.o.c.k no matter how bravely he might get it up. As for my own, he was welcome to a taste.

As Phyllis and I undressed, I said, aIn case I gave you the wrong impression, Bobby, I donat l.u.s.t after old men. If you want to t.i.tillate yourself with me, Iam not opposed, but you neednat fear the reverse.a He grinned. aYou have an alluring body, Timmy, but itas all an illusion. Although Iave never touched a boy before, much less a man, I could be tempted by your prettiness. Perhaps I might take a quick slurp of your immature c.o.c.k tonight just to satisfy my curiosity, but if I kiss those rosy lips and look into your eyes, Iad probably vomit. Thereas an old man hidden in you, as physically unsavory as myself, and your eyes reveal it.a aWeare not here for guy s.e.x,a Phyllis huffed indignantly, resentful of the suggestion that she was not the focus of our l.u.s.t.

She twirled about in her nakedness, arms aloft, fingers touching like a houri seeking the attention of distracted princes. She slithered to Graden, still in his chair, and bent her knees to thrust a bountiful t.i.t into his face.

aGet undressed, Bobby,a she cooed and tugged playfully at the collar of his robe.

aIall do that,a he announced, pushing himself up in a lopsided manner until he stood. aBut what I most want is to observe some kids f.u.c.king close up.a aBobby!a Phyllis exclaimed with a cute pout, aare you just going to play the peeping tom tonight?a aIall be more than that, darling. Iall have my nose and lips at the sweet juncture, if you make room for me.a aTheread be no problem with that, Bobby,a I responded, aif Phyll gets on top. But we canat f.u.c.k properly because the rubber keeps slipping off.a aOh, hoo! How the fates work their magic!a His florid face beamed so joyfully I though he would have a big one.

aYouare in luck, Timmy,a he boomed. aMy son was stationed in j.a.pan and he returned with a present that was meant as a joke. Are you ready?a He reached into a drawer and pulled back a fist full of small shiny packets. aRubbers made for Nip d.i.c.ks! Would you believe it?a He let them drop onto the floor.

Phyllis leaned down to retrieve one, ripped it open and offered the latex ring for my inspection. aTry it on,a she urged me breathlessly.

I rolled it onto my c.o.c.k. It fit snuggly.

aItas just your size, Timmy,a she squealed.

aYou can buy all you need down in China town,a Graden suggested helpfully.

Of course! I thought. A billion small Asians would not have bothered with European condoms.

aLetas see if it works,a I said playfully, pulling the plump girl into my arms.

aIad like to work her into the mood, boy,a Graden protested and eased her naked body away from mine.

The two of them moved to the nearby bed where Phyllis threw herself heavily onto her back. Graden, naked at last, climbed after her more slowly. His body was as ugly as I had feared. The sight of him kissing and s...o...b..ring her abundant flesh was scarcely erotic, although when he began to eat her out with her legs draped over his shoulders, I felt a definite stirring of interest. I watched her face exhibit the onset of her climax. She looked at me all the while, making me a partic.i.p.ant. Her mouth and eyes opened widely before she cried out without inhibition.

Graden knew when to stop. He rose to a sitting position between her legs, his face smeared with her juices, and grinned at me. aOkay, Timmy. Itas your turn now.a He got to his feet. aJust climb on and make her squeak.a I quickly lowered my body between her raised knees and easily penetrated her lubricious hole. She was still aroused from Graden. It was a joyful, carefree f.u.c.k. We did not have to worry about pulling apart at the last minute. She abandoned herself to utter bliss and I serviced her selflessly for the moment, playing the continuo, as it were. Her arms and thighs grasped me tightly when she cried out in o.r.g.a.s.m.

aAnother one! Another one, please!a she gasped without a pause in her f.u.c.king.

Pumping away, I felt trembling fingers stroke my b.a.l.l.s. Over my shoulder I saw the old man bent close to our junction, both hands reaching between our legs. He grasped the base of my c.o.c.k briefly, inserted a finger into her beside it, even probed my a.s.shole. Doubtless he was doing the same to her. From her constant moaning and clipping sphincters she must have been having climax after climax.

It soon became too much for me. Gradenas handling but mostly the feel of her flesh against mine, the warm tightness on my c.o.c.k, forced me to think of my own need. She screeched with abandon as I felt my own exquisite pleasure. I lay atop her for a moment as we caught out breath.

aCome on, Timmy,a Graden called impatiently, pulling at my shoulder. aI want to do it now.a I dismounted the girl and got to my feet. The tip of the j.a.panese rubber drooped with the weight of youthful s.e.m.e.n. It had remained intact.

aLet me get on top, Bobby,a Phyllis insisted and rose to a kneeling position on the bed. aI donat want you to exert yourself.a I lost interest in their f.u.c.king after a minute. It was not a pretty sight. I slipped the rubber off my c.o.c.k and went downstairs to the kitchen in search of a c.o.ke. I had just taken a cold bottle in each hand and closed the refrigerator when I heard the sound of a car door closing outside next to the garage. A peep out the kitchen window revealed a man and woman on the rear walk.

I flew upstairs. Phyllis was gyrating atop the old man, grimacing, obviously coming again. What a night for her! His mouth was open to draw stentorian breaths. I closed the door of his room, put down the c.o.kes and took hold of the girlas shoulder.

aBetter hold it down. Gradenas kids are coming in the back door.a She flashed me a look of irritation. aOh, darn!a Immediately she ceased to bounce the bed.

Graden was more explicit. aG.o.d d.a.m.n them!a he muttered. aI told them they wouldnat like that movie. And I was about to come!a Quickly Phyllis got off him and knelt beside his narrow bed. He had a nice sized c.o.c.k that she likely had appreciated. If itas true that c.o.c.ks shrink as they age, this one must have been a whopper. I hardly got a glimpse of it before half of it vanished into her mouth.

aCome here,a he said, staring at me as her head began to bob.

I stopped with my c.o.c.k hanging over his face. aYou donat care if they find us here?a aKeep your voice down. They wonat bother me if we donat make a lot of noise. Theyall go to bed and make plenty of noise themselves.a Phyllis raised her head. aDonat worry, Timmy. Itas happened before. I know how to sneak out.a aIall bet!a She blushed, head descending. I shrugged and leaned forward slightly. The old manas mouth closed over my half hard c.o.c.k. He tongued it rather well, I thought, suggesting more than imaginary experience, enough to firm it up, but not enough to get me off. The combination got him, though. He spat me out and tilted his head back, tendons appearing in his wrinkled throat, and grunted as Phyllis froze. She did not raise herself until he relaxed.

Her mouth appeared dry, but his c.o.c.k glistened and one white drop filled the eye. She saw my expression, grinned and stuck out a pink tongue at me.

Graden sighed and turned over, his face to the wall. Phyllis gathered up our clothing, pa.s.sing mine to me. In a curiously short time bedsprings began to creak rhythmically somewhere in the house. Of course: no TV! Phyllis bent to kiss Gradenas cheek, then led me by the hand downstairs, keeping close to the wall of the staircase, and out the front door, which she shut silently behind us. Even through the closed door we could hear the bed monotonously creaking on.

Phyllis whispered to me in evident awe, aHe can keep that up for an hour!a aWhich only means his partner is not as exciting as mine.a aOh, you!a But she chuckled with pleasure.

We walked out to the common driveway between the two houses. She looked up at the light in an upstairs window of hers. She pulled me against her. aLetas go to the bas.e.m.e.nt.a aYour motheras waiting up for you, I expect. Wheread you tell her you were going?a aTo study the stars with Mr. Graden.a aShe knows his kids are home.a aOh. Yeah.a aDidnat you get enough, Phyl?a aEnough? You canat get enough of heaven!a aI guess not. Kiss me.a She pulled me against her, lips enveloping mine, her tongue probing. I pulled up her skirt between us, put three fingers into her and compressed her c.l.i.t with my thumb. Soon she was groaning and shivering. In another moment she simply sat down in the driveway, staring up at me in the light from the corner streetlight, mouth hanging open and drooling our combined spit.

aOh my G.o.d, Timmy!a she moaned.

Suddenly I remembered Amelia Potteras concern that she might have harmed me somehow. What about Phyllis? I had a clear premonition that I was changing Phyllis into something she would never otherwise have been, not necessarily for the better, either. I turned on my heel and left her sitting on the gravel, ignoring her soft calls for me to return.