Chapter 11

“Well, I’ll just kiss it—a little bit—and hope that makes it well,” Stephanie said, impulsively bending her head to his lap and giving the very tip of the head of Skip’s cock a light “smmmmmmccccck.”

They decided to go back to the Kramer house and see if they could peek in the bedroom and see if Bea and Kitty were still fucking and sucking the boys’ peters and having their pussies licked. Cagily, they separated, just in case.

Stephanie circled around the house and Skip in the dark, sitting in the webbed chair. “Um, glad you’re back, Skip. Let’s go up to the house.” When he frowned, she said, “Bea got a phone call from Steve’s mother. Her brother-Steve’s-broke his leg riding a motorbike and she wants Steve to come home right away!”

When they entered the house by the back door, Bea was sitting in her favorite chair—where she had been when she had first had the young Negro buck go down on her pussy. And Steve was standing beside her, waiting for more explanation as Bea poured herself a martini from the full pitcher on the table beside the chair.

“Have yourself a drink, Kit,” Berniece said, turning back to the dark-haired girl who had gotten a robe from her bedroom. “Your mother wants you to come, Stephanie. Oh, Hank isn’t serious, but your mother needs you to trot after him because she has to work. So don’t fret, Honey.”

“I can get a bus in the morning,” Stephanie said.

“Well, Kit and I thought of that. But Kitty has a better idea. She and Skip are just traveling, and she said she would leave the trailer here and meander down that way to Pocatello. Your mother said if you get home by Monday—three days—that would be fine. This job she’s taken starts Monday morning. See? Perfect. You beeeeehave on the way.” And she glanced sternly at Steve, then at Kitty and Skip, very meaningfully.

“We can make it one day,” Kitty said the next morning as the pickup and camper hummed south toward Cascade, “but we can take it easier and do it in two. I like that idea. Uuuummmmmm-hmmmmmm,” she grinned, patting Skip’s bare leg between the knee and his ample goodie basket as he sat between her and Stephanie. “Hmmmmm, right, Steve? You know what I mean?” she turned her face toward them to grin and wink.

Stephanie blushed, looked out the passenger window. Skip stared straight ahead, saying nothing, pushing ineptly at Kitty’s hand as she dexterously popped open two buttons of his shorts. “Don’t,” he whispered agitatedly.

“Poooof!” Kitty churkled. “Why should I? Right, Stephanie? You know what wonderful good things he’s got in his pants, between his legs, don’t you, Sweetie? And why the hell should I quit, Skip?” she demanded testily. “Right, Steve?” she added, trying to get her hand inside his stuffed pants.

“I don’t care,” Stephanie said without voice inflection, but not without emotion. She had turned her gaze back from the scenery flashing by, and her eyes were drawn to Skip’s gaping fly where she could see a whitish flash of Skip’s engorged meat as Kitty’s hand fumbled for it, trying to get it out.

“Right!” Kitty laughed. “Hey! I’m having a helluva time. Steve, you get his gadget out!”

Stephanie inhaled raggedly, deeply. She swallowed painfully. “I-no, no-nooooooo...”

“Oh, go ahead,” Kitty said in a chiding tone. “Go on, Steve, you can get his dingus out. Get the top button undone and open up his pants—make him push ‘em down around his ankles—hell! make him take off his pants!”

“He doesn’t want me-us-to do that,” Stephanie said in a hushed, but interest-gaining voice.

“The hell! What do we care whether he cares? Get his pants open and off, Stevie, and let’s have some fun with Skip while we travel,” Kitty warbled excitedly. And she unbuttoned the man’s shirt she was wearing to reveal the cut-out halter and the hot pants with the split straddle. “And Skip can suck my titties and finger-diddle me through the open crotch in my shorts. Don’t worry! Let’s have fun, enjoy ourselves. Get his pants off, Stephanie!”