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Katie Part 1 MikeyAndMe!BUf3a8nZe6 20/06/04(Thu)06:58 No. 26778 ID: efd76d

This is the first half of the second tale in the "Mikey and Me" story, in which we meet Katie, a girl in Josh's neighborhood.

Tags: bg, preteen, viol, nosex

=====

Katie Part 1

“If you can strip me, you can take me.”

=====

I'm sure she said it.

Word for word. Just like that. I heard her.

=====

“But you can't, can you?”

=====

Goddamn that girl is so competitive. Always has to make everything into a challenge. Can't just answer a simple request with a simple Yes or No. Like she just wants to beat someone, somehow. All the time.

Like that time at the public pool I told her I want to see her boob.

See, Katie's a year younger than me, but she's just as big as me. She's not fat, but pretty strong for her age. And now she's growing boobs. So I asked if she could show me one. Just one.

She couldn't just say no. She had to defeat me first. “Okay, let's see who can stay under water the longest. Count time on your fingers.”

She's pretty athletic, so there's no way I could match her holding my breath. But I did have fun trying, and I think she liked that I tried. She even stayed under for so long that the lifeguard came and checked on her, but she kept counting fingers to convince us she wasn't dead under there, and he left. So of course she won.

But later, when we were drying off, she did lift her top real quick and showed me both boobs anyways.

That's when I started to think she likes me. Or maybe she just liked that I played her games.

=====

But even that wasn't enough for her. She wanted to keep up the breath-holding contest, even when we weren't in the pool.

At the playground one evening she challenged me to just sit and hold my breath while she did the same.

“First one to breathe loses,” she said. I don't think I asked what the winner wins or the loser loses.

Oddly, I could sit and hold my breath a very long time. I don't know why or how. Perhaps I was just a lot calmer than Katie. After three tries she still could not sit and hold her breath for as long as me.

“You've gotta be cheating!” she accused. “You're breathing somehow without looking like it!”

I wasn't cheating, but she had to prevent me from cheating anyways. So she invented The Strangle Game.

In the first version, we would sit at the playground park, facing each other. We each put two hands around the other's throat. The idea was to simply tolerate your opponent's strangulation attempt the longest. At this contest, she was by far the best. I couldn't hold my breath for long if I was putting all my strength into holding her neck shut.

We quickly learned a few things:
(1) Somebody might see us and assume we were actually trying to murder each other. So we went to my backyard, which had a bench out of view.
(2) It actually takes fearsome strength to prevent a person from breathing. What we're really doing is cutting off the blood flow to the brain. This still robs that brain of oxygen, even if you can breathe a little. And that doesn't take huge strength.
(3) Katie has stronger arms and hands than I do.
(4) We both really enjoyed this contest. Sometimes she even let me win. And I thought she looked super hot with a purple face.
(5) I get a serious boner when I'm being strangled. Of course she noticed. But she wouldn't tell me if she gets one too. Or whatever girls get. Finally,
(6) We needed a signal to show the other that we were not actually dead yet.

That last part was my idea. I wanted a way to tell her when she should quit when I couldn't just say so. Couldn't just leave eyes open because I liked to close my eyes when trying to avoid her psyche-out glare. Couldn't just hold a hand up because you need both hands to strangle the other.

So we (by 'we' I mean 'she') decided that we would play one at a time, with a watch for timing. One player would strangle the other, the other would endure it while holding hands up. Drop hands, release grip, note the time. Switch roles.

At this game, I could still beat her most of the time. And when I won, she showed me her boobs.

Her boobs? Oh they were small I guess. Shit, she's in seventh grade. She was just growing them this year. And I noticed them. And she noticed that I had noticed them.

Look, Katie's tough. She's a year younger than me, and could probably kick my butt if she wanted too. She's got some size to her, some weight. Not fat, but meaty.

You know what we have in common? We both get picked last for teams. When a ball game is forming, like at the playground park, and a couple of captains start choosing their teams? Katie and I are always the last ones chosen. Me, because I'm a total dork and just unable to play sports. But Katie, she can kick ass and make the ball fly and run the bases and all that stuff, but they still don't like her because she doesn't play team. I mean she's not a team player. She plays for herself, and will razz her own teammates as bad as she will trash talk the opponent. They don't like her for it so they don't choose her.

Me, they just don't choose me because I can't throw a ball worth a shit.

=====

But that day she was on the other team and was told to play catcher, and I was watching her from behind the plate and she was standing with her legs spread and her butt toward me, and she was wiggling her butt to taunt, well, everyone.

So I reached with my glove and grabbed her left butt cheek.

She turned and kicked me right over on my back. All the kids laughed and made fun of me for the rest of the game.

=====

But I was watching her and noticing her and I wanted her.

I wanted to fuck her. Man, did I ever want to fuck her. And I'm pretty sure she knew it. She certainly knew how to taunt me for it.

I've known Katie for what, maybe three years now? It was just this past year that her boobs started to sprout. I noticed, like I said, but so did her parents. They had her wearing a bra every day now. But just for fun, she would twist the outer t-shirt just over her nipples, and then razz any boy whose eyes were drawn to the little, round bumps in her shirt.

=====

She had done exactly that when she knocked on the door at my place that Friday evening.

“I got some weed. You got a pipe? I'll share if you do.”

Of course, I was gawking at her nipples and just realizing that they weren't real. I was also noticing her pink bra straps that weren't in the least covered by the spaghetti-straps of her brown-striped summer shirt. Her brown corduroy shorts showed her shape well, especially as she was starting to outgrow them. Dressing in brown-on-brown. Katie was no more fashion-conscious than I.

“Pipe? Matches?” she refocused me with a grin.

Mom had already come home from work, changed clothes, made sure I had some dinner, packed a weekend bag, and took off to her boyfriend's house, so I wouldn't see her again until Sunday night. And my big brother had finally moved into his own apartment a month before, so I had the house to myself all night and more. Her timing was perfect.

“Oh yeah, yes! Cool. Come in!” I stammered. “Jake left me some of his stash stuff when he moved out. Whatcha got?”

She headed for the kitchen. “A pretty good bud,” she said, pointing to the small makeup bag in her back pocket. “I washed my brother's car for it. He's got a hot date tonight. Can I get a sandwich?” She was already rooting through the meat and cheese drawer in the fridge.

“Go ahead. No problem. I'll get you some ice water.” I guess her Mom wasn't up to making dinner at her house tonight. Katie knew she could usually find something over at my place.

She quickly built a decent ham and cheese sandwich. “Can we smoke in your room? And play some records?” She headed upstairs before I could answer.

I followed her with her ice water. Okay, so I snuck a sip. Once in my room, I closed and locked the door. This was usual, my habit whenever I was smoking weed in there.

There are two desks with two chairs in the room that I no longer shared with Jake. I started the Pink Floyd album which was already on the record player. She handed me her zipper bag, and I gave her the glass of ice water. Katie went to work on the sandwich while I went to work on the bud.

With the double-fold album sleeve and a pack of matches I broke up the bud and rolled out the seeds into the ashtray, just like Jake had taught me. Use the matchbook to scoop the weed into a plastic film canister. Pour from the canister into the pipe bowl. We had enough for maybe six or eight bowls, maybe more. This made us rich, for now. Once Katie has finished her sandwich, I used two matches together for the first light.

We smoked and we coughed and we giggled and we talked about the other kids in the neighborhood. She told me about some of her friends in her class in school, most of whom I didn't know because I was a year ahead of her. We listened to the album and turned it over to listen to the other side.

She flipped through my box of albums to pick the next one to play. She chose the Peter Frampton live album, because she really thought he looked so super-cute in the cover photo with with long, wavy, golden, rock-star hair. “He can have me anytime he wants!” she joked, and posed like a too-cute model strutting the runway.

“What makes you think he'll want you?” I giggled, while coughing from weed smoke.

“I'll go to his next concert,” she stood up and took the pipe from me, “and I'll make my way up to the front row,” she took a drag off the pipe, “and just as I'm right in front of him,” she set the pipe down, “I'll go...” and she dramatically pulled up her shirt and bra over her face.

Of course I stared directly at her bared boobs. “THAT is how I'll get him to want me!” And she gave me about three extra seconds to stare than the joke really required.

Then she yanked her shirt back down and sat back down in the chair. Her cheeks instantly turned beet red as she laughed. Then she pulled her shirt partway back up because her bra was out of whack and she had to adjust it to set her boobs straight again. Of course, I watched with too much interest, until she had everything all back in place.

“Oh, you've seen my boobs before. Why do you want to keep looking at them?”

“Same reason Peter Frampton does.” We both chuckled. “Besides, you've smoked weed before. And now you want to smoke more. Same thing.” I reloaded the pipe.

“So looking at my boobs is like smoking weed to you?”

I lit a big hit of the pipe. Held it, let it go. Pretended to be lost in thought for a moment.

“I honestly can't tell you which I like better.”

I sputtered and blew smoke at my own joke. She grabbed the pipe from me in mock anger. “You dork.”

She took a good toke, held it, let it out.

“It's just that...” she stopped.

“That what?” said stupid me.

She stared straight at me. Her eyes narrowed just a bit. She hesisitated several seconds.

“It's just that … when you look at my boobs,” she paused, “I know you're really thinking about my ...” she blushed red again as she whispered it, “... my pussy.”

I had never heard any girl say that word before.

“Then why did you show me your boobs?”

“Because it's fun! It's Friday night and there are no parties and I've got good weed and I'm here having fun with you! Can't I show you my boobs without you getting all perverted and stuff?”

It was at this point that I saw through her act. She was trying to get me hot, even if it was just a Friday night diverson. And I realized it. And that made me bold.

We were there alone. She and I. Nobody else. What was said here would go nowhere else. I decided to be as honest with her as I could.

“Katie … " Just spit it out, I thought. "I really want to fuck you.” I felt my face blush.

=====

She stared at me, with a questioning expression. Blink blink. Like, what planet are you from?

She calmy picked up the pipe, seriously looked at me, and lit another toke. Then she spewed the smoke out in laughter.

“Pfffhhhpfffhhhhfffhhhfff! You wanna fuck me!” She coughed on the smoke. I took the pipe, staring at her oh-so-red eyes, wondering how she was going to belittle me now.

“You'd have to be my boyfriend to fuck me,” she declared. “And to be my boyfriend you'd have to be bigger and stronger than me and be able to beat me in things and not lose to me all the time.”

“But you're here hanging with me and not the tough kids. Besides, I beat you in things. Sometimes. Like the Strangle Game, sometimes.”

“That's just holding your beath. That's nothing and it doesn't count.”

“Can't I just see you naked?” This earned a roar of laughter from a thoroughly stoned Katie. I joined in the laughing once I realized I should. I was pretty stoned, too.

So she stood up in front of my chair, looking down on me. Her hands dramatically posed on her hips.

“So you wanna see me naked and you wanna fuck me. Is that right?”

“Umm... yeah?” The honest answer is always the best, right?

“You'll have to beat me at something first.” Oh, Katie. There you go again.

“Like what?” My mind was swimming in possibilities. She, too, looked to be whirring in thought.

“Something you can't win, of course.” She actually winked at me. “Load some more weed.”

I tapped out the pipe and reloaded. it. Handed it to her. She lit a good drag without coughing.

“Tell you what.” She exhaled a cloud directly, deliberately into my face. “If you can strip me, you can take me.”

=====

Why did she always have to make everything a goddamn competition? Why couldn't she just say yes or no?

So now I'm wondering, does she mean it? Does she want to fuck me? Or does she want to beat me at a new game?

“But you can't, can you?” she taunted.

Of course, my first and foremost thought was that I just might get to fuck her after all. Or else, I might be walking right into another one of her humiliation traps that will end with her laughing at me for being so stupid and weak.

Or should I just turn her down and never find out?

I needed just a few seconds to think. So I got up from my chair and went to change the record. Pink Floyd back in the sleeve. Frampton onto the player, both discs stacked for longer play.

My circular thinking kept leading back to exactly what she had said: If I can strip her, I can have her. God I wanted her. There was no way I was going to pass this chance up. Yeah, I'd probably end up losing. That's just how it works with Katie. But this was a game that I definitely wanted to play.

I figured she probably already had a trick of some sort in mind. Otherwise she wouldn't have made such a challenge. For one, she liked to bet on sure things. For two, I really don't think she had gone “all the way” with anyone before. I wouldn't doubt that she's done herself a few times (or more). But if
she's ever actually been fucked, she had never let on to anyone.

Maybe I could try to surprise her. Somehow. Get the first move in before she could react. Except that she was letting me do exactly that, and probably knew what I might try first.

She was smirking at me. "Well? You in?"

I was staring at her clothes, mind racing for ideas. Spaghetti-strap top over pink bra. Corduroy shorts, button and zipper, probably over girlie underwear. Blue and white sneakers, looking a little oversized, with white ankle socks. My brain latched onto the strings of her top lying on the pink bra straps. Could I break those with one good yank down? Only if I catch her by surprise.

One trick came to mind.

I stood directly in front of her. "Look, Katie. I'm having fun just hanging with you. I don't see why we have to turn this into ..."

In mid-sentence, I grabbed the collar of her shirt under her neck, and yanked downward as hard as I could. I also grabbed her bra in that same move. One of the spaghetti-straps tore away from the collar. One of those budding boobs was revealed before my eyes. My eyes stared down, locking onto the thin, oval nipple.

It was in the far left of my peripheral vision that I just caught a glimpse, too late, of her fist coming in on a roundhouse punch, to land on my temple.

WHOMP!!!

My head exploded into pure pain and pressure. My eyes saw nothing but a blast of bright white and yellow light. All sound in my ears was replaced by a warbling tone, akin to a coach's whistle that wouldn't quit. I was utterly unaware of my actual surroundings for some time, I guess for a few seconds but not a long time. Swirling light, harsh whistling, and pulsing head pain made up my entire world.

Pictures slowly started to come back to my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that I was still standing, but kind of tilted. I really thought I should be flat on the ground. The white and yellow fireworks began to fade. In their place was Katie's face. This face had a look of shock and horror that I did not yet understand. Her boob was still poking out from her bra and broken shirt.

The whistling in my ears did not stop, but I began to hear her voice, saying "Omigod I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that I mean not that hard I'm sorry are you okay?"

Only twice before had my head felt like this, both times at the hands of big brother Jake.

First time, I was riding my bike in circles on the carport, when Jake decided to push me over. Just for fun. I fell over, and the back of my head slammed the concrete floor. I felt it bounce twice before blacking out. I woke to see Jake standing over me. "You're okay," he said. "Get up." That fuck.

The other time, he was beating me up for not cleaning up the kitchen before Mom got home the day before. She yelled at him (it was his chore, after all), so he promised to get me back good. So in the process of delivering on his promised beating, I fell to the floor and smacked my skull against the brick wall at the top of the stairs. I saw that same white and yellow flash before blacking out for I don't know how long.

When I woke, Jake was not there. He wasn't even in the house. I felt blood on my face, and wiped my finger in some to see it with my eyes. That was when I heard Mom's keys in the door as she was coming home from work. I couldn't let her see or know what had happened to me, because as a single mother she was already near the breaking point, and the last thing I wanted to hand her was more trouble. So I hid my face under the cedar chest as Mom walked up the stairs, and told her I was looking for a lost doggie toy. It worked. She walked right past me, into her room to change. That gave me time to wash my face, though my skull was still aching and spinning.

But Jake's favorite way to end a beating (it wasn't a 'fight' because I never fought back, just endured it) was a slug to the gut. This would put the hurt into the deepest, most debilitating part of my body. It would also knock the wind out of me, usually requiring maybe half a minute or more just to recover the ability to draw a single breath.

Katie was still stammering. "No no I would never do that I mean I never wanted to It was an accident really I'm so so sorry..."

I swear that if I ever had the guts or the strength to face up to Jake, I know I would just lose control on that son-of-a-bitch. Punch and kick him until every square fucking inch of him is bruised and hurting. Make his nose bleed. Scream in his face. Break his things.

I could not notice that Katie was in a panic. "NoNoNo! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Can we start over again? Please? NoNoNo! …" Her hands went up to defend her face from something.

And I would finish him off by gathering all the force I could find in my body or the world or even the universe, and deliver it all into one massive, death-dealing fist right into the softest part of his gut! OOOF!

=====

And then time froze.

For all I know the record player might have even froze.

Her face froze. Her yammering stopped mid-rant.

Her eyes froze wide open as if she had just seen God.

Her mouth froze in an 'O' shape like she had been blowing smoke rings.

Her body froze, hunched over at the belly.

I froze where I was standing. I had not yet realized what I had done.

=====

How long did time stay frozen? Does it even make sense to ask that? It felt like minutes that I stared at this scene without understanding what was happening. What was going on? Why was she frozen? Why was my fist in her belly?

Oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuck. NoNoNoNoNo. Oh God, no!

Time started creaking to a start again, but very slowly. How I wished it would not!

It took far too long for me to realize that I had just landed the hardest punch I could muster, right into a little girl's gut. And I couldn't undo it.

It took far too long to watch her slowly react. I think she tried to breathe in a couple of times. But that wasn't working. Her mouth stayed open, but her eyes squeezed shut with pain. Her shaking hands moved to her belly, and grasped my fist, still there as guilty evidence. Then she slowly collapsed to her knees. My fist, still curled up, pulled out of her clutching hands. She curled into something like a fetal position, on her knees. She was still not breathing.

She tried hard to draw a breath. “Urk …” Her back heaved.

A few seconds later, again. “Urk …” Heave.

Why was I not helping this poor, helpless, hurting child?

I had been there, and knew of no way to help. But I knew you had to force yourself to breathe. “Breathe in,” I offered, though it sounded supremely stupid before I said it. “Force the air in. Use your muscles.”

She must have understood, because her next sound was a long, drawn out “Uuuuurrrrrrkkkkk!” that sounded like the rustiest wheel in the world finally starting to move, just like Time itself was restarting.

Her back rose. Then another “Uuuuurrrrkkkkk!” and her back rose further.

She exhaled a moan. “Oohhhhhh!” Then urked in another breath. Another moan out. She was breathing again.

She began to rock back and forth in her kneeling, fetal position. Now she's gonna be okay, right?

Whatever my issues with Jake were, Katie had just paid a terrible price for them that she did not deserve to.

What the hell is wrong with me? Not only did I just punch a girl into a near coma, but now I just stood there watching. What could I do? I wanted so badly to kneel down with her and hug her and hold her and soothe her and tell her she was going to be okay.

But no. Once she started to come around, a panic built in me. She was going to recover and then knock my lights out. Or tell our parents. Or go to the hospital. Or send me to jail. And never, ever dare to be around me again. Oh, Katie, why do you have to play these games? Whatever I was going to do, I'd better think of it quick.

Quick thought, sadly, has never been my strong suit. That's the only possible reason that I settled on the seemingly obvious answer.

I had to finish stripping her. Now, before she got her strength back. Then she would have to let me take her, because that's what she said I could do. Right?

=====

She was still, on the floor, on her knees, curled into a ball. She was breathing, but in short, rapid huffs.

“Owwww ...” Instead of moaning, she actually spoke the word.

I was out of time.

I knelt down in front of her. Her hands were clenching her gut. Her shirt, one strap broken, had ridden up, revealing her lower back. I knelt in front of her as her breathing jerked into sobbing. Reaching over her, I quickly grabbed the bottom hem of her striped shirt. Raking it upward, I also grabbed hold of the back strap of her pink bra. And I pulled it all to her head.

“No no no!” she sobbed. “Don't!” She shrunk her body into a tighter curl. Her hands were still holding her gut, but she held her arms and elbows in tight to her side, trying to hold onto the shirt and bra. But from here it was just too easy to pull them over her bent-down head. They were still on her upper arms, pinned to her sides, but her back was now completely bare.

“I said Don't! Stop it! I mean it! I'm not playing!”

“I'm not playing, either,” I replied, meaninglessly. Something in me still thought that I might be getting laid, somehow.

Like I said, quick thinking is not my strong suit.

She was still curled up in a tight, little ball. She showed no sign of uncurling anytime soon.

I moved around in back of her. Her brown shorts has ridden down on her, showing a bit of “plumber's cleavage” as the comedians called it. The frilly, white band of her panties was peeping out over the waist of her shorts.

I looked to be sure that she was is no position to punch me again. Then I put the same move on her shorts as I had on her shirt. I grabbed the shorts and panties by their waist, and gave a hard yank down.

They didn't move. But she did, trying to adjust her position to hold onto her shorts.

“No, don't! Stop it!” she whined.

I wasn't about to stop. Another hard yank down. They moved about two inches down, exposing more of her crack.

She rolled over on her side. “I said stop it, goddammit!”

Another hard yank. Another few inches down. I could see her butt hole.

She extracted her hands from her gut to grab onto her waist band before she lost the shorts. It was awkward because her arms were still tangled up with her shirt and bra.

That was my chance to pull her shirt and bra down from her upper arms, so that they were wrapped around her wrists. Her chest was now bare.

She could barely grip the front of her waistband with thumb and forefinger of each hand. “Stop, you idiot! Game over! Stop! No!”

I again took the back of her waistband in two full fists, and gave them my hardest yank down. I pulled Katie almost a full foot across the floor. Her shorts gave maybe two more inches. I had to stop and stare a moment, because now I could see her bare pussy slit peeking out from under her butt cheeks. She was gripping her waistband with all the might she could muster between thumbs and fingers.

I realized that I could now use her own weight against her. With each hand, I grabbed tightly onto the leg hems of her shorts. Then I got my feet under me and lifted.

She now found herself upside down, on her back and shoulders, bare from hips up, desperately hanging onto one end of her shorts while I held the other.

I tightened my grip with every finger onto the corduroy fabric. One good yank. They came down enough that I could see her bare, bald pussy.

"I SAID STOP IT GODDAMMIT STOP!!!"

Another yank. This time she lost her grip. The waistband slipped from her grip. She fell right down out of her shorts. I tried to pull them off completely, but her shoes were too big.

Her panties were left behind around her knees. We both reached for them, but I got there first. I slid them down (which was still up in her upside down state) to join her brown shorts, wrapped around her ankles. I realized that the shorts were not going past her shoes. So I twisted them around once or twice to tighten them together like ankle cuffs. Now I had complete control of her feet.
This was a sight that made me stop and stare. Katie was now completely naked from wrist to ankles. She had the torn shirt and bra wrapped around her wrists, and the shorts and panties twisted up with her shoes and socks that I was still holding up in the air. She was not trying to cover anything with her hands. I looked her up and down more than once, then latched my gaze onto her smooth pussy.

Her face was turning completely red. I thought she was highly embarrassed, and she certainly was.

Then I realized that she was also turning red because I was still holding her upside down.

I let her feet down. She was laid out flat on her back on the rug. At least she wasn't curled up in a ball anymore. I was still staring at her pussy.

“Ohhhhhh!” she moaned. “I'm gonna puke.”

The trash can was in easy reach. I held it for her while she gave up the remains of her sandwich. Then I handed her the glass of water. She dropped the shirt, took the glass, rinsed and spat into the can. Laid back down, closed her eyes, and heaved a long, low moan. A few big, deep breaths. She opened her eyes to see me still staring at her.

She read my mind. Given the rock-hard boner I just realized was bulging in my jeans, that couldn't have been real hard to do.

“Don't even THINK about trying to fuck me, motherfucker.”

Well, that was pretty much all that I was thinking about. I wasn't thinking about how I might fix some of this mess, but how I might salvage getting laid out of it.

“You said I could. If I stripped you.”

“That was before you killed me in the stomach, fucker! That hurt!”

“But you hit me in the head and it hurt bad, too. Fucker!”

“You were supposed to give up after that! Jesus Fucking Christ! I used that same hit when my brother tried to strip me! I whapped him so hard he was dizzy for hours. And he fucking gave up! Why couldn't you?”

So I was meant to lose from the beginning. Just as I had suspected.

I tried a desperation play. “You can't go back on your word.”

“It's my word and I can take it back if I want. Get over it!”

Goddammit. Now I'm not gonna get to fuck her.

“And now I hurt bad,” she said. “Do I even look fuckable right now?”

Well, that was the wrong question. I couldn't help but smile and chuckle, which told her the answer.

“I don't feel fuckable.” She looked at herself. “My Mom's gonna ask me about that ripped shirt.” She slowly reached for her panties, began to untwist them to pull them up.

I reached and stopped her.

We weren't finished.

=====


>>
WorldsGreatestDad 20/06/05(Fri)00:41 No. 26780 ID: f7d3f6

Well presented, but speaking just for myself, not as much fun as your previous chapter. I'm afraid I wouldn't have found your competitive and bullying "friend" sexually attractive at all. I'm not about dominance or violence on either side. When things get rough, I leave. Always been that way.


>>
MikeyAndMe!BUf3a8nZe6 20/06/05(Fri)02:18 No. 26781 ID: efd76d

>>26780

Agreed WGD. I'm not really into that either. Not yet sure if it really drives the overall narrative or not. But it did happen shortly after the episode with Michele.
Oddly, though I finished this chapter months ago, I just recently found Katie (not real name of course) again on social media. Haven't told her about my writing though, probably never will.


>>
WorldsGreatestDad 20/06/05(Fri)02:59 No. 26782 ID: f7d3f6

>>26781

Well, the narrative is what it is. When we write memoirs, rather than pure fiction, we get the good, the bad and the ugly. There's a certain appeal to stories from real life, an authenticity that holds one's attention. But the very things that make them so believable are also the downsides to those experiences, the sand in the shell that makes the pearl. Anyway, you tell these stories well, and I'm looking forward to hearing more of your past encounters.


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Katie Part 1 continued MikeyAndMe!BUf3a8nZe6 20/06/06(Sat)13:53 No. 26786 ID: efd76d

This is the 2nd half of the 2nd chapter of "Mikey and Me", in which Josh continues his evening alone with neighborhood girl Katie.

Tags: bg preteen spank pain

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I reached and stopped her.

We weren't finished.

=====

“The hell are you doing?” She pushed my hand away, and pulled up her panties.

“You owe me.”

“I don't owe you shit!”

I grabbed her panties and pulled them right back down to her ankles.

“You said I could have you. And I wanna have you. But now I ain't gonna get you. And you gotta make up for that!”

“I ain't gonna make up for shit!”

“Just let me feel up your whole body.” Jeez, I was sounding desperate.

“Leave me alone!” She again reached for her panties. Again, I stopped her.

I began rubbing my hands all over her body. Every inch of skin that I could reach I felt through the tips of my fingers. She kept trying to push me off but I managed to get really good feels of her boobs and even her peach-fuzzy pussy. Then I resorted to tickling her in the ribs, because it made her smile again.

But when I turned her over. I turned her over. Oh when I turned her over.

In one-fractionth of a second I fell in love with her butt. She couldn't reach back there well so I got really good handfuls of both butt cheeks. I rubbed them for a while because it really fed the boner in my jeans, and besides she kinda stopped fighting me while I just, well, rubbed her butt. Those twin mounds of Katie-flesh were just magic in my hands. Oh how lovingly I slid my hands on that flesh. I could settle for a lifetime right here.

She farted. A good one.

And then she laughed! I guess it was pretty funny.

So why did I act insulted? Because here I had finally beaten her at her own game, and only I'm getting the consolation prize. With a fart.

Whap! I smacked her on her butt with my right hand, perhaps a bit too hard.

“Oww!” she complained.

“Fuck you,” I said. Whap!

“Oww! Come on!”

“I said Fuck you.” And gave her four good ones. Right on the cheeks. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

I guess I was using some strength, because my own hand really stung me pretty good. Her face lit up like I had finally gotten her attention. Wide eyes, gritted teeth.

This was working. I didn't know what working meant, but this was working.

Apparently it meant that both her reaction and mine were both just what we wanted. Or at least what I wanted.

More.

Whap! Whap! Whap! A long series of one per second because I know how to count a second accurately.

“What the... <whap!> Oww! ...are you doing? <whap!> Hey! <whap!> Oww!”

Then she just shut up and took it. To prove that she could, I assumed. And yes she could and no I couldn't dish it out any more because my hand was hurting like oww oww oww. She could take all the spanking I could hand her. And she seemed to enjoy proving it.

One more try. Whap bap bap! Oww my hand hurt. Katie winced a bit but didn't shout.

But god damn her butt was turning red. Hand prints, even fingerprints were starting to show in the skin of her rump. And she was just taking it. She even made a mocking face at me. Nyahh!

“Oh, is this how your mother spanks you? You got some issues to deal with, boy!”

That made me mad.

“Oh, I'll tell you how my mother spanks me.”

“Wait, what?”

Look. My mom knows how to spank. First, use a belt. Second, show no mercy. Use real strength. Ten stripes from the Belt. A leather belt folded in half. Fuckfuckfuck. Those things are evil in the wrong hands. You can set a kid's life and very being upside down with one of them. Ten stripes is all it takes.

Under the Belt, you learn:
(1) The Belt hurts most when it hits the exact same place repeatedly.
(2) Trying to block the Belt with your hands is useless; they will get hurt worse.
(3) You are expected to cry. If you don't, it's not working.
And (4) You may be brave and strong and able to withstand things. And you can take as many as three stripes without screaming. I can't take even two because I'm a wimp. But I don't care who you are. If you're a kid, you will break by the fourth stripe. And then you have six more. And you will be goddamn good and broken.

And I had a belt.

And I had a ready victim.

And worst of all, I had the will, and the training, to do it.

=====

I unbuckled my belt. Pulled it out from the loops of my jeans. It was a plain leather belt, no decorations. I folded it in half. Creased the end. Weighed it in my hand.

Katie began to roll over, asking “What are you...?”

I pushed her back down, face down, onto the rug. I put a knee on her back to make sure she stayed.

I raised it high and I brought it down. Right across her ass cheeks. Slap!

“Aah! Fuck!” She looked at me, wondering what the hell I was doing.

Second stripe, right across the first. Slap! She grimaced, tucked her lips inside her teeth but made no sound.

Third stripe I hit harder. Slap! She had tried to cover her butt with her hands, but quickly found out what I already knew, that it only hurt your hands worse, and that idea was no good. Her hands went to cover her face. She wiggled her butt and kicked her tangled feet.

Fourth stripe: Slap! Good and hard. This is the one the always breaks any kid but she still did not scream, but man she is on the edge of it with her face squirmed up and her teeth gnashing.

Fifth stripe Slap! “Nnnnngggg!” Her eyes were wide and she was breathing in short huffs and every muscle in her body was straining to maintain control. I had never seen anybody (meaning me nor my big brother) take five stripes without absolutely losing it.

Sixth stripe, and she lost it. “AAAAAH!” She screamed like she was being axe-murdered, and didn't stop. Wow, she lasted six.

Seventh stripe put an extra high pitch in her scream. “EEEEEEE!” Her face and every other muscle in her body was clenched as hard as she could. It was like I was putting feverish energy into her butt and it was coming out her mouth as a girl's nightmarish scream.

Eighth stripe, and I was off in a reverie. In the background was Katie's howling in pain. In the foreground was my mother doing it to me, teaching me how to break a person. Every fucking beating you gave to me I'm gonna give right back to you Mom and Ima put all of my strength and anger and rage and resentment and hatred into these last two stripes. That gut slug was for Jake, and Mom, this is for you. I'm sorry, Katie, but you're on the receiving end. Even if you don't deserve it.

Ninth stripe, with all my strength. Whap! Katie had not stopped her screaming, which was surely waking the neighbors. But she renewed her pitch, up high again. Then something caught in her throat like a wrench in the gears. “Gurk!”

Tenth stripe, right behind. All the force I could muster once again. The belt made a whooshing sound.

Whap! She went silent. She arched her back upwards, kind of slowly, pushing up with her arms. Her head tilted unnaturally far back. Her eyes widened, straight upward, wide like I didn't think human eyes could do outside of a cartoon. Her teeth looked like she was biting through a rope. She held her breath. She held it too long. She wasn't breathing.

“Gak!”

That's twice in one night now I've put this girl into respiratory arrest, I thought. I gotta stop doing that. Poor girl is tough but she can't take much more of this shit.

She wasn't moving. She wasn't relaxing. She was locked into this electrified pose like she was still getting hit by a thousand volts of electricity. And dying of it.

I wondered if I had broken something inside her. Not like her spirit, but like actual bones or major arteries or muscles.

The red in her butt was turning purple, like bruising. The belt stripes on her skin had already risen noticeably. It made a complete map of everywhere I had just hit her. I thought of the pictures I've seen of slaves who had taken beatings from their masters, but those pictures were all in black and white. What I saw, I thought, was more like an oil painting of Jesus Christ after getting whipped red and purple by the Romans.

Her body began to quiver and shake. Pulsing, kind of. Her head was still tilted back, facing the ceiling. Her eyes closed, then squeezed tightly shut.

She peed, a little. I think she peed.

Was she having an orgasm?

She opened her mouth and cried from deep in her chest, “HAAAAAWWWWW!!!” until her lungs were empty, then wheezed her chest full of air and did it again. “HAAAAAWWWWW!!!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was so loud I thought surely the neighbors would hear.

She slowly dropped her pose and sank to the floor, as she continued to cry out. She buried her
face down into her hands.

I reached to touch her.

She responded with a higher shriek on top of her crying, and pushed me away with her hand.

So I continued to watch her cry, until the crying eventually toned down to broken sobbing.

I had broken her. Shit.

What did I break? How do I put her back together?

She was a naked and bruised child. Helpless, damaged, defeated.

I don't know how long I watched her. Every minute I felt like a bigger and bigger shit and had no idea what to do about it. I should say something to her. But what the hell would I say? That I had won the game?

What the hell would she say to me?

She finally managed to control her sobbing long enough to draw in a complete breath. She carefully lifted her body up onto her elbows, and turned her head to look directly at me. She spoke one word.

“OOOOOWWWWW!” she hollered directly at me, for about five full seconds. Drew a breath.

I tried. “Katie, I …”

“OOOOOWWWWW!” she repeated, one note higher. Drew another breath.

“Look, I'm sorr...”

“THAT! (breathe in) HUUUURT!”

She hung her head and broke back into crying.

Surely there was something I could say. Something right. Something needed.

“But you went back on your word.” That wasn't it.

“Only after you slugged me, and way too hard!” she sobbed.

“Well, that was after you hit me in the head way too hard.”

“Well you were stripping me and not quitting!”

At this point I think we both realized that we had already been through this.

She began to roll over on her side, but winced with pain from the wounds on her butt. Laid back down on her stomach.

“So that's how your mother punishes you? Dude, you got problems.”

I sat silently, with no good answer. She was right.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I'm sorry I went back on my word. I really am.”

“I'm sorry I hit you too hard.”

“I'm sorry I hit you too hard.”

“And I'm sorry I hit you too hard.”

Chuckles.

Holy shit! She actually chuckled!

She sighed. “We need rules,” she said.

“Rules?”

“If we're gonna play games we're gonna need rules.”

It felt like we were quiet for a full minute before that sunk in. We're still going to play games?

“Yeah,” I said, “we're gonna need rules.”

“Like no real hitting.”

“No real hitting. Right. We'll lay out the rules before ... next time.”

“Like no real hitting.”

“No hitting!” I shouted. “You hit me first. Remember that!”

Why was I shouting? We escalated.

“You think you won, and you didn't,” she shouted back.

“Whadya mean I didn't? I beat you solid!”

“I wasn't even fighting back. I didn't even try to escape!”

Shit. She's right. She didn't. I would have.

“Game was already over! See, you think you won but I AAAAKKKK!!!” She tensed suddenly.

I had slapped her swollen, red butt before I even realized it. Man I have got to learn to control these hands.

I took over. “I won here! I'm the one who decided not to take you anyways. And I beat you!” That put a curious look in her eyes. “But if you EVER!” pointing my finger in her face. “ … hit me like that again, you WILL ... be ... fucked!” I must have been impersonating some movie actor.

There was so much in her face that I just could not read. Surprise, I think. Mixed with something else. A bunch of something elses.

But it all broke into giggles. Giggles? My God, this broken, wounded, threatened girl was giggling!

“Heh heh heh” I lamely tried to giggle with her.

She was going to be all right. Now I can breathe, too. Okay not the same thing. But she was going to be all right.

We need the weed. Where's the weed? I looked around at the desk. There it ...

WHOMP!

White and yellow fireworks again. But no ringing in the ears this time. Just a good rap on the skull. My brain wiggled like jelly before settling down. Just throbbing ache on the side of my head. That was all. She had held back.

I held still for a couple of seconds, while I let my eyeballs stop rattling. I turned my head back around to face her. Now goddammit I just told her if she ever does that again!

We locked eyes. I saw fear in her, fear that I was going to clobber her again.

But her mouth. Her mouth had the slight turn of a corner that made her look amused. It must have been because of whatever look was on my face. I'm sure she found it ... memorable.

“Skkk!” She couldn't hold back a chuckle. And that made her lose her serious look.

“Yeah, I know. I'm getting fucked, right?”

I stared back at her face, speechless.

She gingerly pushed herself up onto her right side, wincing a bit. Then she stared right at me, and slowly raised her knee to expose what she knew I wanted to see most in the world this night.
I tried for some reason to stay locked onto her eyes.

“You can look.”

Damn straight I looked. I never had a sister, y'know, so I didn't really have any good idea of what girls look like under their clothes.

The first thing I noticed about her pussy, that before had looked like a simple fold of her skin, now had opened, with more fleshy somethings showing inside. Now that reminded me of those Penthouse models, but less hairy. Is this how girls get boners? She was also quite wet down there. And she had left something of a wet spot on the rug. I was still wondering: is that pee or not?

Next, it occurred to me that my own boner was no secret. In fact, Katie was staring at my jeans just like I was at her. I don't think I had ever caught a girl staring at my jeans.

We both went different directions at the same time:

Me: “Maybe you'd like to take a shower?”
She: “I wanna see that.”

See what? I wondered. Oh, duh. That.

“Umm, okay. Sure.” I agreed. She deserved it, after all that. And yeah, it wasn't hard to convince me, either. It was about time I got naked, too. And I was not about to say out loud that I really didn't want to play with whatever fluid she had spilled on herself. “Let's shower. Both of us. You might need a hand.”

I was also thinking that her red bruised and welted butt needed some rinsing or some kind of attention. And I wondered if we had had any appropriate medicine-type stuff around. What would a Mom use on that hurt? Aloe vera?

“Okay, let's shower,” she said. “Don't slap my butt or I'll pound you. Umm, help me out of these shoes? And take your pants off.”

I honestly tried to reach for her shoes and my zipper at the same time, but that didn't work out. Tried once more. No, dummy, you gotta choose one or the other to do first.

Decision: Let's put her first. Get the shoes, pull them off. Plunk them aside. That let's get the twisted tangle of shorts and panties off her ankles. Ploff them aside.

“Socks, too?” Why do I ask such stupid things?

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “I never shower with them on.”

Pull them both off. Toof those aside.

I briefly considered tickling her on the soles, but quickly decided that she had had more than enough abuse for one night. Jesus H. Tap-Dancin' Christ! can I start treating this girl any better?

Of course I was staring at her open pussy the entire time. She held her pose for me for perhaps another minunte.

“Am I pretty?” she asked.

“Yes, you're very pretty. Beautiful.” As if I knew the first thing about what makes a girl beautiful. If I really wanted to keep looking at her, I guess she must be beautiful, right?

“Hand me the weed.” She sounded tired. “Then take your pants off. My turn to look at you.”

I hopped up to the desk, dumped the ashes out of the pipe, then loaded another bowlful of the bud. I handed her the pipe and matches. “Here you go.”

She was still laying on her side. I could understand why she might not want to sit up, given her blazing red butt. She lit the pipe and took a good drag, held the smoke in while I undid the snap and zipper on my jeans. I wasn't feeling the least bit shy; I wanted to get naked as much as she wanted to watch.

I pulled the jeans down to my knees as she focused on my plain, white briefs. Oh yeah, I remembered, I still have a big boner stretching them out. I was feeling okay with giving her a show. She had earned it.

I stepped on the bottom of one jeans leg to hold it while I pulled the leg out. Then I stepped on the other with the other foot, and pulled that leg out. Toss them aside onto the growing pile of clothes by the closet.

Her eyes were riveted onto my underwear. This made my boner stretch the cotton just a little harder. I think she noticed that. She took another hit off the pipe.

I had to pull the waistband up and over my hard dick to get my underwear down. Then I just let them fall down my legs to my ankles. Her eyes seemed to pop noticeably wider as she stared. It turned me on so much to see her getting turned on by my dick. Nobody had ever been so interested in me before, and now I liked it. I stepped out of the briefs, and kicked them over to the pile.

“And your shirt, too.” She was almost whispering. I pulled my white t-shirt up by the sleeves, over my head. Tossed that over there, too.

She took another toke off the pipe. I stood. She stared. And kept staring. When it started to feel kind of awkward after a minute or two, she held the pipe up and said, “Reload this. Then I'm gonna look at you some more.”

I took the pipe, tapped it out in the ash tray, and loaded another pinch. We were not out yet. This time, I took first hit, then handed the pipe to her. Held the smoke a moment, then blew it out.

She just kept staring while she took another hit. I just stood there, willing to give her all she wanted. My dick was standing out and up, and kind of dancing a bit with my blood pulse. I think she was trying to maintain a straight look on her face but she broke a big smile. I was so happy to see her smile. I was happier to be the reason she smiled. So I smiled back at her.

“Let me touch it,” she whispered.

I knelt down right in front of her face. She had been propped up on her right elbow, so she now laid her right side down on her shoulder so she could get both hands on my dick. She grasped it, and began rubbing and caressing it with both hands, including my balls.

I rolled my eyes back as the sensations of another person's hands on my dick raced through my mind and body. I've rubbed myself there more than once, and this was certainly more intense. I wasn't controlling these hands, someone else was. Someone else who I really, really liked. God, I loved getting my dick played with. I hoped she would never quit.

“You're pretty too,” she told me. I smiled. I was so happy that she thought so. “I could do this for a long time. But I'm ready for that shower now.” She let go of my dick. Oh well.

I took the pipe and set it on the desk. She moved to get up, then stopped and winced with pain. “Owww! Help me up.”

She held out her hand, I reached to hold it. With a little effort and more wincing on her part, we got her on her feet. It took her a moment to steady herself. My boner was pointing directly into her belly. She grasped it in her right hand. “Kiss me.”

We had done a lot of kissing before, and were starting to figure out how we liked to do it. Start with lips only, using them to feel out the other's lips. Then little by little we would invite the tongues in. Let them dance together for a while. Then we'd begin a full-on tongue-wrestling match. We would do this for so long that our lips would get sore from the saliva.

This time, we both went straight for the deep thing. Our tongues rolled and pulled each other over their full length with a passion that surprised me, and probably her as well. I squeezed my arms around her so tightly, like I never wanted to let her go. She let go of my dick and did the same. We held each other tighter and more passionately than ever before. My boner poked into her lower belly. Her boobs rubbed across my chest.

We continued this tongue-swallowing dance for maybe a full two minutes. My right hand instinctively moved down to grope her butt cheek nice and firmly.

“Nng!” she winced, biting my tongue and maybe her own too. We didn't stop kissing, though I quickly put my hand back on her back. We kept at it for a while longer before finally relaxing and catching our breath. Then we hung our heads over each other's shoulders. Maybe another full two minutes of just holding each other.

“I need to pee,” she whispered.

“It might hurt to sit,” I replied. Was that helpful?

“Then help me. And then help me into the shower. I'm not feeling real spry right now.” She stretched out the word “spry” like a word that nobody says very much.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” She started towards the bedroom door. “Ow, oww!” She halted. “You walk in front of me, and I'll hold your shoulders,” she suggested. “Move slowly, okay?”

“Okay.” I stood in front of her, my back to her. She put her hands on my shoulders and we started shuffling forward with very short steps. My dick, still quite stiff, swung back and forth as I walked. We got out of the bedroom, into the hallway. “You doing okay?”

“Oh, not too bad, for having been whipped silly. Keep going.”

A few more steps, and we were in the bathroom. I switched the light on.

“Oh, that's bright!” We had been in a fairly dim room for hours.

“Hang on a sec. I'll light a couple of these candles.” Mom always had some in there that she used during her long baths.

Katie slowly lowered herself onto the toilet seat, holding my arm for support.”Hnnnnn....” she whined as she sat, then let go of me.

I lit two red candles with the match box that Mom kept there, then switched off the ceiling light.

“I'll leave you alone for a minute. Have some privacy.”

“Stay?” she requested. “Not like I have much to hide from you anymore.” She closed her eyes as her stream of piss started flowing. I looked around, just for not wanting to be staring at her while she's peeing. When she had finished, she pulled a wad of toilet paper off the roll, wiped herself, and dropped it in the bowl. Flush.

My boner was finally starting to go down. I guess watching someone peeing in pain just didn't seem that sexy.
“Okay, help me up.”

I took her hands in mine and gently lifted her up to standing. Then I helped her step over the edge of the tub, into the shower. I switched on the exhaust fan, followed her in, and pulled the curtain closed. I got the water flowing a nice, warm temperature from the spigot, then pulled the knob to get the shower going. I stood in front of her to keep the spray from hitting her too hard at first.

She moved me backwards a bit to get herself into the spray, front first. Then she bent over a bit to get water flowing down her back. “Eeesh,” she grimaced as it flowed over her butt.

“Do you want me to help wash you?” I offered.

“No, let me do it myself.” With her hands, she lightly rubbed the water around her swollen cheeks. “That's better. You really did a number on me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said lamely. “We do need some rules.”

“Like 'No real pain'?”

“Good rule.”

She picked up the bar of soap. “I bet this will sting.”

“Try this.” I handed her a plastic bottle off the ledge. “It's body wash. Might be gentler.” She squirted a blob in her hand, set the bottle down, and gently washed her butt, her crotch, and then the rest of her body. The light was dim, but just perfect for watching her soap up her skin. Then we switched places while she rinsed and I soaped up.

Once I had rinsed, she put her arms around me and pressed her cheek into my shoulder. So I did the same. We stood in each other's arms for a couple of minutes, letting the warm water run between us.
What did I do to deserve this? I wondered.

“You paid attention to me,” she replied. I didn't think I had said that out loud. “Besides, I like you.”

For two short sentences, there was an awful lot to think about there.

“Besides that, you made me cum pretty hard.” She giggled.

“Huh?” God damn, I am one clueless kid.

“The last couple whaps with your belt? When you really dug in? Made me go … kind of … over the top.”

That explained a few things for me. Still, too much for my slow, stoned brain to process right away. Must think on this later.

=====

She reached over to pick up the bottle of body wash, flipped the top open, and squirted a fair amount between our hugging chests. Then she began rubbing her chest around on mine. All very slippery, and very exciting. Naturally, I reached my hands in between us to rub her boobs. Her nipples were hard and sticking out. My dick was starting to do the same again.

She took hold of my right hand and moved it down to her crotch. “You can put me over the top again, without whipping me. This is how I do it.” She blushed, and I think I did too.

So I started trying to push a finger inside of her hole. Wasn't working.

“Not like that.” She guided my finger up to the top of her slit. “Feel that?” I felt the little bump of flesh there. She inhaled with a short gasp. “That's it. Rub me there. Like that's my dick.”

So I rubbed her there. She closed her eyes and laid her head down on my shoulder, humming “Mmmm...” The soap had made our skin really slippery, which had excited me into hardness again. But as the bubbles and foam rinsed off of us, I could feel a different sort of slipperiness coming from inside her pussy. I recognized the feel of it from that night with Mikey's cousin Michele a few weeks back.

So all girls make this slippery juice? That's what lets fucking thing work so well?

I rubbed more of this slippery juice around her button. She started moving her body, sort of humping my finger, moving her hips kind of the way I do when I jack myself off. Maybe girls aren't that much different from boys afterv all.

“Yes, like that,” she hummed while holding me tighter. “Just like that.” She moved her grip to my upper arms, squeezing tightly enough to remind me that she really was quite strong. She buried her forehead into my chest. Her dance on my hand got more intense.

“Ahh... ahh... aakh!” Her humming stopped as she squeezed my arms so tight I thought she might leave bruises. Her dancing came to a sudden stop. “Yesssss!” She pushed her hips forward into mine.

I was still rubbing her. She reached one hand down to grab mine, to stop it from moving, to press it into her button. “Haaah!” she exhaled. She held still for a moment, then relaxed.

She threw both arms around me and planted a deep-tongue kiss on me. Oh, how I loved those deep kisses with Katie. I could do that all day.

She grabbed my dick. It was already back to full-on boner.

“Josh,” she said, then paused while she searched for her words. She looked me in the eyes. “I know I promised you could take me. And I really, really want to do that, too. But right now, I don't think … I don't think I'm in any condition to have sex at all. It still really hurts.”

I had already given up on getting laid tonight. But at least now I knew she wanted to.

“But I can still do something … nice for you,” she continued. The warm water still ran between us. “Kind of a present. I learned this ... thing from a friend, and wanna try it on you. Trust me, you'll like it.”

Holding onto my arms, she lowered herself down to her knees, facing me and the shower stream. She took my dick in her fist a began to stroke it. She looked at it carefully from a few different angles. The red light from the candles was kind of dim, but I think I saw her smiling.

Then she leaned forward and kissed the tip with her lips. Then kissed it again. Then she kissed it with her lips around the tip.

“Mmmm...” she hummed as she popped my entire swollen head inside her mouth. She circled it with her tongue. Her hand continued to slide up and down my dick.

She stuck her tongue out of her lips, along the underside of my shaft. Then she actually sucked about half of my dick into her mouth. Her tongue worked the underside. Her hand stroked only the bottom half now.

This is where I closed my eyes and turned my head upward. As much as I loved the sight of her pushing her head into my naked body, the rush of feelings swirling in my body and brain were too much to think about anything but what she was doing to me.

I felt the fingers of her other hand lightly touch my tightened nuts. Ooh, now that was new and different!

My right leg began to shake. I couldn't stop it. Two hands a mouth and tongue and they were all Katie.

My closed eyes saw an burning, electric force grow out of the center of my dick and spill out from the middle of my body, coursing through my veins and nerves until they reached the end of my arms legs and head. From there everything bounced back, surged toward my crotch, finally combining together as one overwhelming force that crashed straight through my dick. My shaking leg froze stiff.

Katie's tongue was still caressing the underside when it pulsed once, twice, and then RRIPP pumped burst after burst of my life force directly into her mouth. Four, five, six full shots of my sperm filled her face. Most of it spilled out her lips, falling down her chin and hands, over my dick and balls, dripping into the tub to flow down towards the drain.

She seemed to tense up stiff too. We both held still like that, muscles clenched, for several seconds before we relaxed.

I don't think I made a sound.

Katie kind of said, “Glubf!” then backed off of me. Her tongue pushed the rest of my sperm out of her mouth, without spitting, to drop into the tub.

She caught a stream of shower water in her mouth to rinse with.

“Tanya warned me to expect that,” she whispered.

Tanya, the girl in my class who lived down the street. She had a high-school boyfriend. So that's who told her how to do this.

I had no words. I just stared down at her. She faced up at me.

“Help me up.” I pulled her up by the arms. She looked into my face like she was trying to read my reaction.

Me, I was still dumbfounded. My brain just was not yet up to spoken language.

“Oh, Katie...” was the best I could manage.

“Josh,” she replied, as she threw her arms around me for a tight hug. I hugged her back, but maybe not so tight. She still had to be sore.

This felt good.

“Katie … Katie.” It seemed like there was nothing else to say.

“Josh, Josh.” Okay, now she was mocking me. We both broke into chuckles.

“We can't keep this up.” God, I hated to say that.

“Wha - Whadayou mean?” She looked at me, quite startled. “You don't like this?”

“No nonononono! I love this, I do! I mean the hot water is almost gone. Time to get out.”

That made her laugh out loud. “Don't scare me like that! I'll have to spank you.”

I turned the water off. We let it run off of us for a moment, squeezing it out of our hair, then I helped her out of the tub. She was still quite stiff in her movements.

We dried ourselves off, while still gawking at each other's naked bodies. I watched her take extra care patting her butt dry. “Would you like me to get that for you?” I offered.

“I got it, thanks.” Yeah, I thought, she could probably do without me touching her butt for a long time.
I pulled a bottle off of the shelf. “There's some aloe vera lotion here, if you think you might want some.”

“Yeah, sure.” She did not wince this time, as she pumped a glob into her hand and rubbed it on her red sores. I watched her do this for a minute. Then I blew out the candles and we walked back to my room.

“I need to get home soon,” she said. “Mom's gonna wonder where I am.”

“You need help getting dressed?”

“No, thanks. I'm okay.” She bent over to picked up her shorts, but stopped and grimaced. “Oww. Yeah, help me step into these.” So I untangled her shorts and undies, held the undies open for her to step into, and lifted them up to where she could take them without bending. She gently, gently pulled them up to her waist. Then we got her brown shorts on.

I pulled her bra out from her shirt and handed it to her. “I broke the strap on your shirt,” I admitted as she put the bra on. “I think I can staple it together. Or I might be able to sew it, but that will take longer.”

“Staple it,” she decided. “I'll make up a story to explain it to Mom.”

I got the stapler out of my desk and did my best to reattach the loose strap. Meanwhile, she loaded the last bit of the weed into the pipe. She lit it, pulled a hit, and handed it to me.

“Can I walk you home?” I asked.

“Yes, that'd be nice.” So we passed the pipe a couple more times, standing up. Then she pulled her shirt on. “You gonna get dressed, or you walking me home in the nude?” Such a practical girl.

I didn't want to mess with the jeans, so I just put on some gym shorts and my t-shirt. I helped her step into her socks and sneakers, then tied them for her. I was surprised at how hard it was to tie shoes that are not on your own feet. I guessed that all mothers know this already.

I stepped into my flip-flops. Time to go. The image of her staying the night with me crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed the idea as not gonna happen. I just didn't want to leave her yet.

The stairs seemed to give her a little trouble, but she declined my help. I went ahead of her, just in case she should stumble.

Downstairs, she asked, “How about another sandwich? I kinda lost the last one.” This time I got the bread and stuff out for her. She put another ham and cheese together.

Out the door. We walked slowly under the street lights, saying nothing, as she munched her sandwich. Her place was only a couple hundred yards down the quiet, suburban street. We passed the playground park where a couple of other kids we knew were hanging out late. They saw us and waved. We waved back but didn't go join them.

The porch light was off at her place. This likely meant that her parents were already in bed. Maybe her brother, too, if he was home from his date. We paused in the darkness at her door.

“Can I kiss you again?” I don't know why, but I felt I should ask.

“Of course,” she answered. “Can I hit you in the head again?”

“Don't hit me in the head again. Please.” I meant it.

“I won't ever hit you in the head again. Promise.” She paused. “Unless you ask for it.”

“I won't ask for it.”

We kissed with our lips, then with our tongues. Nothing too passionate. But definitely heartfelt. Our eyes locked as we pulled apart.

“Don't ever slug me again.” She meant it.

“I will never, ever slug you again. Promise. Even if you ask for it.”

“Good. I'll decide later if you can spank me again.”

“Um, yeah,” I giggled. “Let me know.”

She slapped me on the butt. “Maybe it's your turn next time. Good night.” She went inside and closed the door.

I listened to the locks clicking shut, then turned and walked back home.



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