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Subject: {ASSM} Wicked People? {Varkel} (bF+ bM+ bm bf oral anal pedo first) [1/9]
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Date: Wed, 07 Nov 2007 08:10:01 -0500
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Wicked People?

a Novelette by Varkel
Fall, 2007



Chapter 1: _Sammy's First Steps_


"You're a fine boy, Sammy," his mother had told him over and over.  
"Just stay away from wicked people."

"Who are wicked people?" he always asked, but she invariably changed the
subject.

In most respects Sammy was an average twelve year old boy.  The hair on
his head was pale blond; that which existed below his neck was 
invariably tiny white "pin hairs," as described by the housekeeper.  
Unbeknownst to himself, he was a pretty lad: pale blond, blue-eyed, 
pink-cheeked with a slim, straight nose and full lips, androgynous from
head to foot especially of limbs and face.  His chest was ambiguous with
nipples raised on small cones of flesh.  The gender indeterminacy 
applied everywhere except in his groin, from which an adult-length cock
projected worrisomely under morning urinary pressure.

His religious mother had homeschooled him for six years in a big house 
with an elderly servant and sharply curtailed access to televised 
entertainment.  Though he remained totally ignorant of those social 
trivia taught on the recess fields of public schools, he was instilled 
with a habit of questioning whatever he noticed but immediately failed 
to understand.  Of course much escaped his notice, such as the sidelong
glances of grown men and women when he accompanied his mother on public
excursions.  They saw a gloriously blond child who gazed out at the 
world in total innocence of the motives at the root of their 
speculation.

One summer day at the mall his mother paused at the entrance of a 
lingerie store.  "Sammy, you're getting too big to go everywhere with 
me.  Sit down on that bench and wait.  I won't be long."

Dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sneakers, the lad obeyed, crossing his 
shapely, hairless legs and relaxing his elbows on the back of the bench,
watching the interesting parade of shoppers.  The mall was busy, so he 
felt no concern when a youth, fully grown and similarly dressed, took 
the adjacent seat, smiled at Sammy and spread a hairy knee to press the
boy's smooth one.

Sammy looked down at the contact point, where he felt a curious warmth,
realizing suddenly that he could hardly remember the touch of anyone but
Mamma and a few pediatric nurses.

"We could be special friends," the young man suggested.  His hand, 
resting first on his own leg, moved across to fondle Sammy's bare thigh.
It engendered a strange feeling.  Not even his mother touched him there.

"Are you wicked?" he asked in total innocence.

The 18 year old replied, "Very wicked.  I could show you a really good 
time."

The strange hand wandered up Sammy's thigh.  Its edge pressed into his 
groin.  He felt a thrill and his cock twitched, beginning to swell.  The
hand moved gently back and forth to Sammy's rising enjoyment.

"Here, hold this."  The newcomer placed a paper shopping bag in front of 
the boy's crotch.  Sammy took it automatically.

Now the hand in his groin deliberately enclosed the rising cock through
the cloth, squeezed and worked it up and down.  Sammy felt a strange 
thrill, more wonderfully pleasing than anything he could remember.  For
a moment he froze in delight.

"See what I mean?" said the other.  "How'd you like a little suction on
that?" 

At the incomprehensible words Sammy suddenly remembered how the older 
boy had answered his question.  This was one of mother's "wicked 
people."  Sammy jumped up, threw the bag into the other's lap and walked
off, terminating his first sexual experience, although he did not 
recognize it as such.  His cock felt peculiar, but thankfully the 
strangeness soon faded.


* * *


"Well, well, Addie: little miss nice!  What brings you here to the sin 
palace?"

Bernard D. Canfield, a man of medium build now growing a paunch, with 
brown eyes and hair graying at the temples, stood in his open front door
and smiled sarcastically at the waiting woman.  She was Adelaide 
Canfield, blonde, blue-eyed and plump, widowed by the death eight years
earlier of her host's brother.  She had once likened the man's affluent
home to a "palace of sin."

She winced at his tone but took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I 
ever said that, Bernie.  I, uh ...  I have a favor to ask you.  May I 
come in?"

"A favor?  My god, Addie, whatever has happened that made you come to 
me?  But yes, of course."  He stepped back and gestured.  "Go right into
the den."  He grinned.  "Of iniquity."

He closed the door and followed her into the comfortably appointed room.
"May I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you.  This isn't really a social call."  She turned around 
and continued, "You're right: something has happened.  It's my mother.
She's diagnosed with Alzheimer's, the fast kind.  They don't expect her
to live out the month."

"Good lord!  I never met her, Addie, but I'm sorry for you.  And her.  
That's, um, not a good way to go."

"No, it isn't.  I have to take care of her, Bernie.  You know how 
institutions, even the best, would treat her.  And I can't bring her 
home with me.  Mabel is too old."

"Mabel?"

"My housekeeper.  She's 72 and getting feeble herself."

"Replace her."

"I can't do that, Bernie.  She's been with me all my life.  In fact 
she's the one who raised me."

"Where does your mother live?"

"In a suburb of Cleveland.  I have to go there."

"Well, what's stop-- ah!  Sammy.  You don't want to take him with you."

"That's right, not to see his grandma in this state.  And I can't leave
him with Mabel."

"Well, it's July.  Send him to camp."

"What camp?"

"How about the boy scouts?  They ought to be godly enough for you."

Her eyes flared.  "A preying field for homosexuals!"

He blinked then grinned sourly.  "I infer how you spell _prey_.  Doesn't
your church sponsor a camp?"

"I withdrew from it two years ago, after the scandal."

"Ah, yes, I recall that.  Juicy!"

"It was terrible!"

"Yes.  Juicy."

She gritted her teeth and raised her chin in determination.  "The favor
I'm asking is about Sammy.  He's your blood nephew, you know."

"Yes, of course.  How old is he: twelve, thirteen?"

"He'll be thirteen in December.  He's entering adolescence, which 
worries me some, I'll admit."  She shook herself.  "But that's another 
matter.  Bernie, would you let him stay with you until ..."  She took a
deep breath.  "Until I return?"

The man's mouth worked.  Eyes twinkling, he appeared to stifle a laugh.
At last his face grew sober.  "Addie, have you forgotten what you think
of this house -- and me?"

She took another breath.  "No, I haven't, Bernie.  I'm 38 years old and
feel ... strong urges myself.  I know about how much --"

His eyes flashed.  "Strong urges!"

She actually blushed.  "I'm sure you've heard of merry widows.  The 
Devil knows how weak women become in our thirties.  But I started to 
say, I paid attention when you sold your Consolidated shares.  You're a
substantial citizen, Bernie, with a lot to loose.  And you're the boy's
uncle.  Surely you feel enough responsibility for your own flesh and 
blood to keep him safe for a _month_!"

"Here, Addie?"

"Wherever you wish."

"It'll have to be here.  He's likely to see things, you know."

"No, I don't.  I'll hold you responsible it he does."

The man studied her adamant expression and shook his head.  "If I'm not
suitable -- and I'm not, by your standards -- where else can you leave 
him."

She sighed deeply.  "I have no one else, Bernie."

"Well, he'll have to take his chances.  I won't change my life style for
you or anyone else."

"Which is what you told your wife when you divorced her, isn't it?"

"It's the truth."

"Bernie, only for a month."

He spread his hands.  "When do you leave?"

"Tonight.  I'll bring him by on my way to the airport."

"Okay."  He chuckled ironically.  "If he was a twelve-year-old girl, 
yes, that would be trouble.  But what can happen with a boy?"


* * *


Sammy felt bewildered.  His entire settled world was turned upside down.
Mamma had interrupted his continuing success with _Spyro_, the miniature
dragon of dreams and video games, presented him a suitcase packed, she 
said, with "enough clothing for a boy for a summer month," hustled him 
out to the car and driven through the night to Uncle Bern's house.  
There she had explained, "Grandma Pauly needs me.  You have to stay here
for a month."  She kissed him on the cheek, sent him up the staircase to
Uncle Bern's door and drove away.

He caught his breath, set the suitcase down and stared around at his 
uncle's property.  He could only remember visiting it for Christmas 
parties.

It was a corner lot with a paved drive looping in from both streets, 
passing between thick stands of trees that blocked the streetlights.  
The house was lit well enough for him to see lush bushes under the 
windows.  He recalled it as a large brick split-level with 
steeply-sloped roofs.

He raised his hand to the door but Uncle Bern opened it before he could
knock.  The man said mildly, "Sammy!  Right on time.  Your mother was 
always prompt."

"Hi, Uncle Bern.  What am I doing here?"

The man chuckled and stepped back.  "I don't know a whole lot about that
myself.  But come on in.  Do you know where the back bedroom is 
upstairs?"

"No, sir."

"Well, come along and I'll show you."  He closed the door behind the lad
and led the way to the staircase beyond the foyer.  "Your grandmother on
your mother's side has taken very ill.  Your mother's gone to care for 
her and left you with me."

"She said a month."

"They don't expect your grandmother to live even that long."

"A month without _Spyro_!"

The man chuckled.  "Forever at your age, eh?  Doubt you can stand me 
that long?"

"A month!"

Uncle grinned over his shoulder.  "Doesn't a divorced uncle strike you 
as an interesting playmate?  Have you had supper?"

"Yes, sir."

They climbed the stairs in silence and proceeded down a hall between the
rooms.  Uncle stopped at a humming refrigerator and pulled open the 
door.  Inside Sammy saw a profusion of wine bottles, many smaller, 
unrecognized brown ones and even a few cokes.

"Ah, yes, I though we'd find a soda or two here."  Uncle pointed to a 
plastic bottle.  "Even some orange juice!  If you get thirsty, help 
yourself.  You'll find a glass in your bathroom."

"How do I call the housekeeper?"

"The housekeeper?"  The man chuckled.  "I'm not like your mother.  
Nowadays servants are too much trouble.  Would you believe having to 
withhold taxes and social security?  A crew comes twice a week to clean
house and another to trim the lawn.  Otherwise we have to shift for 
ourselves.  Won't hurt you to learn how."

By this time they had entered the last room on the hall.  Uncle flipped
on the light to expose a double bed and other bedroom furniture.  A 
mirror and sink were visible through an open door.

Uncle gestured to a closet.  "Unpack and hang up your clothes.  When do
you usually go to bed?"

"Nine."  Sammy corrected himself quickly.  "Ten!"

The man chuckled.  "Ten, you say?  Well, I don't really care, although 
you might note I prefer for you to stay upstairs at night.  I 
frequently have guests."  He looked at his wristwatch.  "It's almost 
ten now."

He paused at the door.  "Welcome to my humble abode, Sammy.  I'll see 
you in the morning."

"Who'll call me to breakfast?"

"No one.  When you get hungry, look me up.  My bedroom's at the other 
end of this hall."

"Where's your TV?"

"We'll discuss that in the morning.  Turn on that bedside lamp and I'll
turn off the overhead."


* * *


It was only last year that his mother had reluctantly raised the bedtime
hour from eight to nine.  Sammy felt a mild satisfaction at the apparent
success of his lie.

After he had dutifully unpacked the suitcase and stashed most of its 
contents in dresser drawers, he fetched a cold orange soda back to his 
room, drank it straight from the bottle, threw shirt and shorts on the 
floor, brushed his teeth in the bathroom sink, pissed at the toilet and
went to bed in contentment, having ignored the pajamas his mother had 
carefully packed -- though upon turning off the bedside lamp, he felt a
momentary alarm at the lack of a night-light.

Shortly a car engine started in the garage.  Sammy failed to register it
because he was already asleep despite the total darkness at the back of
the house.

But the bed wasn't familiar.  That, after a few hours, along with odd
noises, principally a woman's laughter, impinged on his unconscious
state.  He awoke suddenly, disoriented by the darkness, not so total now
that his eyes had adjusted.  Having left open the door to the hall 
because his bedroom at home was never closed off, he could faintly hear
voices somewhere in the house.  From a television?  He resolved to find
out.

After turning on the lamp, he rose from the bed, slipped on his 
undershorts and entered the dark hall barefooted.  Light from downstairs
lit the far end dimly.  The voices became clear as he reached the head 
of the staircase.  He paused to listen.

A strange woman said, "Bernie, you bastard, don't you pull out yet."

His uncle responded, "Don't worry, I'm just changing holes again."

"Ooo, I can tell!  Now fuck hard."

Sammy's ears perked up.  _Bastard_ was new, but he had overheard the 
other word before, among passers-by in the mall and once or twice from 
playmates in the churchyard before he ceased to attend.  Derisive 
laughter was the response when he asked a boy at church what it meant.
Sammy's mother had responded, "Where'd you hear that?"  When he named 
the boy at church, she telephoned the mother.  Although Sammy had 
listened closely to one end of that conversation, he had not been 
enlightened.

Presumably Uncle Bern, downstairs in the den, was now _fucking_ hard or
trying to -- an educational opportunity.

As he crept down the stairs, he heard uncle complain, "This is damned 
awkward, Millie."

"It's just the right angle," the woman retorted.  "Oh god, don't you 
dare stop!"

"My cock's good for an hour, but I'm not sure about my back."

Clad only in briefs, Sammy peered around the door jamb into the den.  At
first what he saw reminded of the "leap-frog" played in the churchyard.
The woman's pale body was on the floor sideways to the couch.  She 
rested on her shoulders with buttocks propped high by her hands under 
her hips, legs thrown over her head toward Sammy.  Uncle Bernie, facing
Sammy, crouched above her.  He was leaning forward and bouncing up and 
down.

It was not leap-frog.  Except for uncle's bouncing they did not move.  A
slender tube of flesh appeared and disappeared between two clumps of 
hair, one in the man's groin, the other in the woman's.  Sammy realized
slowly that the tube had to be the man's wienie.  It was disappearing 
into the woman, who squeaked shrilly at every plunge.

Sammy had been taught about the sexual reproduction of animals, but he 
never imagined that humans would do what he was witnessing.  Was this 
_fucking_ -- with the woman almost upside-down, sitting on her 
shoulders?  If so, uncle was obediently fucking hard enough to pant with
the effort.  Sammy craned around the doorway to see it better.

Suddenly Uncle's wienie popped out of the woman.  His hand caught it and
pushed it back into her.  The flesh around it undulated interestingly.
Sammy frowned, thinking that now it looked to have entered differently.
How could that be?  He stepped through the doorway, peering intently.

Uncle saw the motion.  "Oh, shit!" he called with a gasp.  "We've got 
company, Millie."

The woman snapped, "Keep fucking!"  Her squeaks resumed, becoming small
screams synchronized with the thrusting.

Still bouncing, uncle grinned at the lad and explained, "She's coming."

Coming where?  A reddish flush spread on her body.  Sammy studied it 
carefully.  He knew that women possessed swellings on the chest referred
to as _breasts_ -- though the same word also meant the entire chest.  So
this was how they looked when not covered by layers of cloth!  Even 
upside down, the pink nipples were fascinating.  And now he could see 
another lump of brighter pink, located in the nest of reddish brown hair
just in front of the fleshy complexity disturbed by uncle's thrusting 
wienie.  Educational indeed!  Curiously the strange sensation, last felt
as he fled the importunate fellow in the mall, had returned to his cock.

With a final wail the woman fell away from the man, who stood upright, 
cock jutting straight out, glistening moistly in the warm lamplight.  
Her hands went between her legs.  "Oh my god," she exclaimed, "I do love
it like that!  It hits the good spots."  Her voice changed.  "You didn't
come."  Even upside down her grin at the man held anticipation.

Uncle asked, "Didn't you hear me, Millie?  We've been found out."

"Huh?  By who?"

"Sammy."

She sat up.  "Sammy?"

Uncle pointed behind her.

She whirled around to blink at the lad, now standing well inside the 
doorway.  She looked him up and down and smiled suddenly.  Her voice was
honeyed.  "Come in, precious, and tell us what's that growing in your 
shorts."

"Millie!" uncle objected.  "He's just a kid!"

"Some kid!  Look at that bulge.  I didn't know you had a child, Bernie."

"I don't.  He's my nephew, not quite thirteen, staying with me a few 
weeks."  The man chuckled.  "I'm supposed to look after him and keep him
pure."

"Pure?  You mean he's cherry?"

"Who knows?  Probably."

"In this house?  How long's he been here?"

"Since this evening."

The woman also chuckled.  "Cherry, you say?  Well, his dick knows what's
going on!"

The man laughed and directed his voice at the lad still in the doorway.
"Do you know what's going on, Sammy?"

"Ah, uh, _fucking_?"

Both adults laughed.  Bernie leaned unsteadily down to the coffee table
and poured whiskey into two glasses while Millie added thoughtfully, "He
may be pretty like a child, but his body is well over half grown.  And 
that lovely bulge!"  The dulcet tones returned.  "Do come on in, you 
precious thing."

Sammy approached cautiously, intrigued by the woman's nakedly voluptuous
figure.  Now sitting upright, shoulders drawn back by arms extended 
behind her, she projected sweetly curved breasts whose nipples lifted 
with each breath.  His briefs grew tighter over the distended cock.

"Come closer, darling," she coaxed, sitting forward and extending a hand
with a wide smile.  "I want to feel your beautiful body."  A wet tongue
flicked the traces of her lipstick.  The full breasts jiggled like 
jelly.  He could only obey.  Curious odors filled his nostrils: a sweet
and sour one he had smelled on people's breath at Christmas parties, 
plus another, musky and powerful but not unpleasant, that descended into
his belly.

Uncle watched with a sardonic smile as the woman first stroked Sammy's 
smooth thighs then pulled down the waistband of the briefs, freeing the
turgid cock.  Sammy had an impulse to cover himself with his hands but 
refrained at the example of uncle's exposed organ.  This woman must know
what to expect.

But her tone was surprised.  "Oh, god, would you look!  His cock's as 
long as yours, Bernie, even without a single hair around it."

"So he's well-hung," said the man with a shrug.  "He's still just a 
kid."

"He'll put you to shame in a few years.  Come on, stand hip to hip.  I 
want to compare your cocks together."

Grumbling, Bernie complied.  He stood a head taller than the boy.  
Millie's hands drew the erections together at the glans.

"About the same length," she announced, still seated on the floor.  
"Yours is a little thicker, Bernie.  You know this boy has a treasure, 
don't you.  Are you sure you haven't already sucked him off?"

Uncle grunted disparagement.

She leered at the lad.  "Who's been touching this pretty thing, Sammy?"

"You."

"Who else?"

"A wicked guy in the mall."

"What?  A wicked guy?  How'd he do that?"

"Sat beside me and squeezed me though my pants."

She turned her head to wink at the uncle.  "How long did he squeeze?"

"Just a few times."

Her eyes glittered.  "What happened then?"

"I left.  He said he was wicked."

Uncle demanded, "What've you got against wickedness, Sammy?"

"Mamma said to stay away from wicked people."

"Ah!  Just 'wicked people.'"

The woman's head was about on the level of Sammy's groin.  He looked 
down to her and asked seriously, "Are you a wicked person, Millie?"

"Oh, no!" she declared, eyes wide and bright.  "There's not a wicked 
bone in my body."

Uncle chuckled.  "Not at the moment."  He took a seat on the couch, 
careful not spill his drink.  His free hand stroked his softening 
erection.

Sammy said, "I'm glad you're not wicked, Millie."

"I wouldn't know how to be wicked," she responded.  "I always try to 
please."

Uncle intoned, "Please and be pleased, that's her motto."

"Actually that's true," she mused.  The hand on Sammy's cock curled 
around it and began to pull the sleeve of skin back and forth.  She 
asked, "Did the wicked guy do this, Sammy?"

"I guess ... through my pants."

"How did that feel."

"I ... don't know."

"You mean you can't find the words?"

"That's right."

From the couch uncle declared authoritatively, "_Ineffable_ is the word
for that."

Millie snickered.  "Was it ineffable, Sammy?"

"I guess."

"Did you like it?"

"Not as much as this."

She chuckled fondly.  "Boys do like this.  And men.  Don't they, 
Bernie?"

"As a start," the man replied.

Sammy caught his breath.  "I never felt anything like this!"

Her eyes twinkled.  "Want to feel something better?"

"What?"

Her hands transferred to his hips.  To his stupefaction she leaned 
forward while pulling him closer, snaked her face into position and took
the head of his cock directly into her mouth.  He felt heat and moist 
pressure -- and ecstatic delight.  Shuddering, he cried, "Oh, oh!"

Uncle slid closer on the couch, grinned and asked, "How's a new dick 
taste, Millie?"

She unmouthed the boy to ask, "You want to taste it?"

Sammy felt terribly abandoned and thrust his cockhead against her cheek.

Uncle got to his feet.  "If it's queer stuff you want to see, Millie, 
maybe he'll suck me.  How about it, son?  We're family, and friends to 
boot.  Friends like to please each other."

"Do it, Sammy," Millie said, pulling the boy around to kneel beside her
on the carpet.  "Will you?"

"Sure, but what is it you want me to do?"

Millie took hold of the man's thick organ.  With a hand behind the boy's
head, she forced his face forward and rubbed the knob against his lips.

"Do what I just did to you."

Sammy accepted the mouthful of meat and began to suckle it without the 
least experience.  His only guide was the delight felt at the woman's 
momentary attention.  He was intrigued by the strange taste -- much more
of the musk noticed earlier -- and the fleshy feel of the member in his
mouth.  He recognized a desire to please his uncle as Millie had pleased
him.

The man stood over him, hips bobbing the cock back and forth over 
Sammy's tongue, and drained the glass in his hand.  The woman fingered 
the boy's testicles, distracting their owner, who forgot to suck.  By 
turning his head slightly he could see her from the corner of his eye.
She was rubbing between her own legs as well as his.

Uncle sighed.  "I've already come off twice in you, Millie, and the 
kid's not doing much for me.  I think I'll go to bed."

With that, he lurched away toward the stairway, leaving Millie with the
beautiful boy, whose hairless flesh she stroked.

"Your uncle's getting old, Sammy, but at least he can still get it up."

Sammy tasted his lips.  "Get what up?"

She grinned.  "His cock."  Her hand enclosed him.  "His version of this
sweet thing.  I'm sure you don't have any problem like that.  You can 
probably go all night."

"Up?  You mean ..."

"Like it is right now.  _Hard on_, as the men say, hard enough to go 
into a girl.  It means a man is ready to fuck."  She frowned slightly.
"Sammy, just how new is all this to you anyway?  Are you really a 
virgin?"

"What's that?"

"Except for your mall faggot, I mean."

He looked at her blankly.

She shook her head.  "How did you get to be twelve without hearing of 
it?  I _knew_ all about it before I was eight."

"Who told you?"

"The other kids, of course."

He studied her thoughtfully.  "I've been homeschooled."

"All your life?"

"Yes."

"You poor, sweet kid!"

A look of worry crossed his face.  "Don't you like me?"

"Like you?"  She laughed.  "I never met a man I didn't like.  Or a boy,
it seems."  She bent and licked one of his nipples.  "This is a first 
for me, Sammy.  I've never had a boy.  It was a grown man who took my 
cherry ... when I was about your age."

She played with his hard member and planted brief kisses on his smooth 
face.  Still grasping his cock, she asked, "Do you even know how to 
whack off?"

"Whack off?"

"Like this."  Her hand stroked the skin.  "Don't you give yourself 
pleasure?"

The boy shook his head, panting with rising tension.  Although he had 
recently been feeling strange urges, he had never thought of such 
touching, if that's what she meant, even after the experience in the 
mall.

Suddenly her exact meaning was important.  "How do you give yourself 
pleasure?"

"You've never washed your cock in the shower until it felt really good 
and stuff shot out?"

"Not yet.  Am I supposed to?"

"My, god!" she exclaimed.  "A perfect virgin boy!"

She studied him, faced with the delight of delivering his first orgasm,
unable to decide on the method.  Finally she pressed him gently back and
licked the hairless thighs.  From there she took the slim cock into her
mouth -- all of it, until her nose was jammed into the few blond hairs 
of his pubic pad.

"Oh, ho!" he grunted and added, "How can you _do_ that?"

She giggled nasally, releasing him momentarily.  "I want to see your 
expression when you squirt for the first time."

"Squirt?"

"Maybe it would be better to _feel_ it."  Laughing in delight, she 
pushed him prone and straddled his body.

Sammy raised a hand to her breast, the expression on his face asking 
permission.

"Yes, darling," she said, hooking his knob into her pussy.  "You may 
touch me anywhere."

She sat down upon him.  The member penetrated her warm slickness fully.
Sammy's eyes enlarged and he gasped.  She smiled and moved back and 
forth on his belly and thighs, her hand fondling his hairless chest, 
eyes locked on his pretty face.

In hardly a minute a violent spasm shook Sammy's body and he cried 
aloud, throwing his head back, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Beautiful, Millie thought.  Absolutely beautiful.

They snuggled on the floor, touching each other's flesh.  Millie held 
him like a baby.  Shortly he curled his torso enough to suckle one of 
her breasts.

"I'm sure you enjoyed that," she said, petting his flaxen head as he 
sucked.

"Umm," he grunted.

"Can't you say something better than that?"

He looked up at her.  "I love you, Millie."

She chuckled fondly.  "I know you do.  How did it feel?"

He answered seriously, "It almost hurt.  There was ... like a sting, but
it was awesome."

"I felt a sting when I was your age.  More than that.  It really hurt."

He blinked.  "Did it hurt just now?"

"Oh, no.  Not a bit."

"What just happened, Millie?"

She smiled at his serious face.  "You fucked me, Sammy."

"It felt like ... I peed a little."

"It's not pee.  Look."  She raised free of him, scooted up to the middle
of his chest and parted the pussy lips with her forefingers.

Sammy raised his head in fascination.  _That's_ where his wienie had 
gone!  He asked, "What's the white stuff?"

"It came from your cock."  Her voice held a curious mixture of pleasure
and mockery.  "Does that really surprise you?"

He remembered his study of animal reproduction.  "Semen?" he asked.

"I can guess where you learned that word.  The kids call it _jism_ or 
just _come_."

"Come?"

"Because that's what you do to make it.  You _come_."

"Do girls come too?"

"Sometimes, if their men don't come too soon."

He blinked.  "I came before you did?"

"You certainly did.  I feel frustrated."

"I'm sorry, Millie."

She began to masturbate with a forefinger.  "This thing I'm rubbing, 
darling.  It feels so good.  Would you lick on it?"

"Are you sure you're not wicked, Millie?"

"Not at all, you precious boy.  Will you lick on me?  Your Uncle Bernie
often does it."

"I don't know what to do."

"I'll teach you, darling.  You'll become popular with girls."

"I don't know any girls, Millie."

She pressed his head down from her breast.  "Just lick where I put your
tongue," she said.

Her groin was hairy and now very messy.  That white stuff, he thought 
disgustedly, came out of his wienie -- like pee.  But he was confident 
of giving her pleasure.  Her hands pressed his ears, guiding him to lick
precisely.  _This_ was the musky odor he had found so strange!  Again he
felt it in his belly.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried after a few minutes.  "What a quick study you are!
Keep doing that!"

He soon brought her off.  Sweaty thighs clamped his cheeks as her 
excitement exploded.

"Oh, god!" she exclaimed after calming down.  "You're a natural."

He snuggled to her warm body and she cuddled him.

"You're so precious," she added, stroking his back and kissing the 
juncture of his neck and shoulder.  "I want to taste you too."

Despite the previous ejaculation, burying his face in the fragrant pussy
had restored his firmness.  Instead of the gentle suction she had given
it earlier, now her mouth stroked it from tip to base and her tongue 
rasped on the knob.  Mouth open in astonishment, he stared down at her 
bobbing head and flying auburn hair.  One hand squeezed his balls while
fingers of the other teased his anus with surprising additional delight.
The pleasure rose more slowly this time and when he eventually bucked, 
cried out and pulled her hair, his emission was less abundant.

Lying back and pulling him against her, fondling his head as he sucked a
nipple, she asked, "Would you like to have fun with me again some other
time?"

He nodded and removed his lips from her breast to yawn.

She chuckled.  "Then we shall, but not tonight.  You and Bernie together
are enough for even a hot girl like me.  Thank you, dear."

"I love you."

"You little sweetheart!  Where's your bed?"

"Upstairs in the back."

"I wish I could sleep with you tonight, darling, but I'm feeling drowsy
too.  You'd better go on to bed.  I'll have another drink and call a 
cab."

From the doorway he looked winsomely back at her, underpants in hand, 
his six-inch cock beginning to droop.

"You are so beautiful!" she declared, gushing.

Briefly he smiled with pleasure.  His face went solemn as he shook his 
head definitely.  "You aren't wicked."

She chuckled.  "Like I told Bernie, not a wicked bone in my body."

"Why did he say, 'Not at the moment?'"

"A hard-on is sometimes called a bone."

"You mean --  Oh."  He blinked.

"Good night, sweet Sammy."

Smiling again, he turned away to the stairs.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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