Chapter 2
Leslie Bodant was a certain type of New Haana girl. She was a townie. A borough, rather than simply a town, New Haana lay outside the jurisdiction of the township of Lesbos, within whose boundaries it lay. The borough was small and sparsely populated and its inhabitants were split between families who orbited around the AT&T plant that went up nearby in the late sixties and families whose social life revolved around the town proper of New Haana. New Haana is a Post Office and a rusty stop sign and a bridge across the Raritan River branch which separates the town from its outlying residential districts. Leslie Bodant lived in New Haana, in the town proper, several houses up from the Post Office and within walking distance of the bridge and the rusty stop sign.
The bridge was the town youth hang out.
No one ever drove over the bridge, except people who wanted to go in and out of New Haana-and New Haana was hardly on the way to or from any place of circumstance-and the Chief of Police. Once or twice a year he arrested a youth for vagrancy and he usually scowled at the boys-mostly boys-who hung out on the bridge, but they didn't happen to give two shits.
"I do not happen to give two shits about the fucking sheriff, or the fucking chief of police, or whatever he calls himself," one boy said, as the chief drove by a group of them.
The boy happened to be the fucking sheriff or chief of police's nephew.
That was the way it was in the town proper of New Haana. Everyone was related.
The boys who hung out on the bridge were all from just a few families and their last names were Burd and Baylee and Beem.
The Burds and the Baylees and the Beems were among the oldest families in New Haana. There were lots of them, lots of Burds and Baylees and Beems and they married each other and got drunk together at the Vernoy Inn and the girls got pregnant young and had to marry and the boys were tough and they all had big cocks.
They were in the minority in New Haana and the knowledge that they were a vanishing breed, fading away under the onslaught of AT&T executives, made them tougher and more pregnant and even better hung.
On Halloween they went into the outlying residential districts and soaped up the windows of all the newest residents of New Haana and they defecated on their lawns and hung their naked asses out of car windows.
They listened to rock and roll music, heavy rock and roll music, Chuck Berry and Fats Domino and Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis and the Drifters and the Coasters and Chubby Checker.
They stood around on the bridge and talked about fucking and they called their cocks "weeners," and they held their weeners and pissed off the bridge and farted so that everyone could hear and they all drank beer.
They drank a lot of beer.
When the boys were about twelve they started to fuck and by the time they were sixteen, with learners permits in their pockets, they were out with a cousin or a niece, a Burd or a Baylee or a Beem and they humped the girls in the back seats of 57 Chevys.
The girls all learned early and they started fucking long before the boys and many of them got it on for the very first time with Old Red Beem, the proprietor of the Vernoy Inn, an old fat man who had never been outside of New Haana in his life and had removed young girls' cherries for almost thirty years.
If, by some miracle, the boys did not impregnate their cousins and nieces when they fucked them in the Chevys, then they went back to the bridge and talked about it and yet another day was passed with yet another round of farting and pissing and held weeners and sneers at the fucking sheriff of chief of police, their uncle.
It was to such boys that Leslie Bodant lost her virginity.
She was one of the few girls in the town not a Beem or a Burd or a Baylee to be associated with the boys and she did it because she knew that they had all been fucking the same girls for fifty years and would welcome a chance to explore virgin cunt.
She was the new frontier. The path up her vagina was the Lewis and Clark trail. By the time she got to high school, the trail had been dug and paved and turned into a four lane super highway. But the first time she got some cock up her quivering twat, she still thought of herself as a virgin. Not that she had her hymen, because she lost that when she was horseback riding, as a child of nine. There had been a lot of blood and her father turned red and her mother tried to explain and that night she opened herself up for a look. It was a look which would serve her a lifetime. She had her first orgasm that night and for three years she contemplated the possibility of getting a boy to bring her off.
Her parents moved to New Haana when she was eleven, to live with her ailing Grandmother and though she was not a Burd, Baylee, or Beem, she immediately ingratiated herself to the clan. She hung out on the bridge with the boys. She was one tough chick. She drank beer and when she was twelve she smoked dope and she watched them pee off the bridge into the river below it and she did not even blanch. That surprised the boys. They were used to girls who found their weeners disgusting, or "gross," or "icky." She thought they were very nice. They were poor boys and some of them were uncircumcised, but that did not bother her, either. They were grateful. Some of them were ashamed of their cocks and when she did not turn away and make a face when the boys flashed them, they decided that she was alright. She was alright for another reason. She had tits. Few of the girls her age had tits like she had. Her tits grew faster than the rest of her body and she was top heavy and heavily laden with bosom. Big tits. "Big fucking tits," the boys would say, when they saw her in the school playground. She knew they wanted her. The idea suited her just fine. She wanted a man and even though they were just boys, she thought they would do. All of them, or a few of them, or one or two of them. They were just boys, but she was only twelve. She could hardly try and get it on with her Social Studies teacher. He was cute and his crotch bulged, but he was also married, and she did not think he would want to cheat on his wife for a twelve year old. So she decided that the Burds and the Beems and the Baylees would have to do. She never could tell a Beem from a Burd, but she didn't care. She just wanted to fuck.
She finally lost it on Halloween night.
Somehow, she managed to convince her mother that she was going trick or treating with friends and she left the house dressed as a rock and roll singer, like Janis Joplin, or Grace Slick. She wore jeans with holes in them and peace signs painted on them and she was braless and wore a tank t- shirt and a lot of beads around her neck.
She had washed her hair and braided it when it was wet and when she took out the tiny braids, her dark blonde hair was fluffy and thick and kinky. She wore a head band with a peace sign in it and she had sandals on her feet. She looked like a whore. She met the boys at the bridge, as she had arranged and she picked one out. She walked up to the bridge where they had strung up a stuffed, red dummy and she looked quickly around at the boys and chose one at random.
They all looked the same to her. All that mattered was that they had those big cocks, those big cocks that seemed to run in the family, so the legend went.
You could always tell a native Haanan from a newcomer, they said, by taking down his pants.
That was what she wanted to do. She wanted to take down some Hannan's pants and get that family trademark hard up inside of her. The boy she picked out was called Frankie. "Hi, Frankie," she said to him. "You like my costume?" Frankie was dumbfounded. It was going to be his lucky night. He colored and wondered which one of his brothers had the Chevy that evening. The other boys whistled. "Oh, baby," one of them said. "You are a sight for sore eyes."
"Don't she look cool," another agreed. They held their weeners and tried not to fart and they did not even piss over the side of the bridge. They were in the presence of a lady, in the strictly New Haanan sense. "Let's raise hell," Leslie said. "Isn't it Hallowe'en?"
"Woo, boy, that's what I like in a chick," one of the boys said. "Balls."
"That's what I like in a boy," Leslie said, and she squeezed Frankie's hand. "Balls." The boys just stared and one of them whistled. Frankie pulled out his harmonica and he played the only song he knew. It was Chuck Berry's "Carol."
"Ain't you got nothing better to put in your mouth?" Leslie drawled.
Frankie looked pale and excited. "Come on," he said, "let's get this hell night on the go, here." The boys whooped and hollered and they piled into one of the boy's hot rods and zipped up the hill out of town.
Leslie had to sit on Frankie's lap and she pressed her ass hard against his hard cock and she wrapped his arms around her so that he could feel her hard nipples through her thin blouse. "Oh, whee!" one of the boys shouted. He was squeezed into the space next to Frankie and he watched Leslie's breasts. "You got yourself quite a girl, there, Frankie," he hollered. They sped out of town and into the housing developments wherein lived the AT&T executives and their families. They jumped out of the car and ran around with bars of soap and rolls of toilet paper. They soaped car windows and front door windows and the elementary school windows. They left toilet paper strewn over trees and around the banisters on front porches. They hurled rotten eggs and tomatoes at anything moving. One boy dropped a bag of horse shit on the front porch of a house, lit it on fire, rang the doorbell and ran around to the back of the house. When the owner came out, he jumped up and down on the horse shit to extinguish the flames and the boy rang the back doorbell and the owner ran through the house and spread hot manure all across the living room before he reached the back door to come face to ass with the boy's asshole. The boy whooped and pulled up his pants and he ran off. The boys drank beer and they played their radio very loud and they shouted obscenities and held their weeners and flashed their naked asses at trick or treaters. Leslie sat in the back of the car and laughed and encouraged them and kneaded Frankie's bulging crotch. She loved every minute of it. She loved the whole thing. And she wanted to fuck very, very badly. She urged the boys on. She persuaded them to drive to an abandoned shack which lay along the banks of the river. She made Frankie make them promise to wait in the car while the two of them went inside the shack, alone, together.
She and Frankie went into the shack. She held his hand. He was drunk and he stumbled towards the shack. They went inside. Leslie took stock of the situation. She saw an old mattress in the corner and it looked clean enough.
"Over there," she said to Frankie.
She walked over to the mattress and took off her pants and her top and she was naked. "Fuck me," she said. "Baby, fuck me." She was naked and she spread her thick lips and she moaned and played with herself. Frankie was too drunk. "Sorry," he said. "Too fucking much beer. Can't get the weener here to give you a hand."
"What!" Leslie said. She walked over to Frankie and she slapped him. "What do you mean, you can't help me? Of course you can." She reached down inside Frankie's pants and she found out that he was telling the truth. Limp as an old rag. "Well," she said. "There's more where this came from." Leslie walked naked out of the shack, and stood in front of the door. "You boys," she called. "You Burds or Beems or Baylees! Come on in here." The boys stirred in the car. "Hey, Amos. Ain't that Leslie calling us from the shed?" one of the boys said. "Nah, leave 'em alone, Rufus," the other said. "They're having a good time."
"I tell you, she's calling us," the first boy said again. He leaned over and turned on the headlights and the lights illuminated Leslie's naked figure against the shack. "Frankie's all tuckered out," she called. "One of you boys want to come in here and give me a hand?"
"Hot damn!" the boys yelled, almost in unison. They scrambled out of the car towards Leslie. They stumbled over each other to get to her. Amos reached her first. "You'll do," she said, looking the boy over. He looked just like Frankie. To her, they were all the same. "Come on," she said. "I got to be home, soon." She took him by the hand and led him inside the shack to the mattress. "Right here," she said. He stared at her. Her naked body was voluptuous and exciting. Her breasts were big, very, very big, and they hung down towards her stomach. Her nipples were big, too and they were pink and the tips on them were like pencil erasers.
She was not a thin girl and she had plenty of flesh around her middle, flesh to hang onto and to nibble and to squeeze. He hair was long and frizzy and dirty blonde and the hair at her cunt was deep brown.
It hung all over her lips. She never trimmed it and it crawled down her thighs and over her thighs and it was thick and smelled strong and good. She was wet and bits of liquid dripped down her inner thighs from the lips of her hot, moist, meaty cunt.
The boy stared at her and she moaned. He had never seen a girl like this. His cousins and his nieces and his sisters and his aunts and his mother were all slim hipped women with small, hard breasts and they smelled bad.
Leslie was fleshy and voluptuous and she smelled clean and strong and sexy and he got very, very hard between his legs.
"Get those clothes off and fuck me," Leslie said. That was new to him, too. The other girls did not really like it. Often they kept their dresses on and they made him keep his pants on and he had to poke his weener out of the flap in his shorts and out the zipper of his pants.
They frowned when he fucked them and afterwards they would not speak to him.
One of the girls sucked him once and she had spit his stuff out the car window and told him he was disgusting. He firmly believed he was disgusting. Yet there stood Leslie, naked and beautiful like a movie star and better than any pictures he had ever seen in magazines and she was asking him to fuck her. Begging him to fuck her. He stared and then he came to and he got out of his clothes as quickly as he ever had in his life. He did not have a nice face, but he had a good body, because he had worked all his life and his muscles were hard. And his cock was very big. He was a little ashamed of it. He tried to hide it behind his hands. "Stand up straight," Leslie commanded. "I want to see you." He took his hands away from his cock and straightened out and his cock pointed out into the room at a forty five degree angle to his hips. It was a thick cock and very long and she thought it looked good enough to eat, like a roll of hard salami. "Oh," she said. "That's very nice." She ran her eyes up and down his naked body. His muscles were big and hard and his skin was reddened from the sun. His ass was pale and his cheeks were big and he had wide, strong hips. She liked his hips. She liked his ass. She liked his cock. She was terribly, terribly turned on by the sight of his big, strong, naked, male body.
"Oh," she said. "You have the most exciting body." He was stunned. He had never been told he had any kind of body at all, much less a nice one. For that matter, the only people who had ever seen it were his brothers and his friends when they swam naked in the river and they were all boys and they never talked about what their bodies were like, except maybe to notice that one of them had a crooked weener, or a very small one. Leslie told him he had a nice body. She got down on her knees and took so many inches of his nice body into her mouth. She sucked him like a power motor.
He jerked off once into a vacuum cleaner and his brother Ed gave him hand jobs when they were kids and two or three girls had blown him, but none of it was ever like this. The girl was good and she enjoyed it. She slurped and sucked and moaned and she pulled away and licked her lips. "I want to taste your stuff," she said, "after you come inside me." He had never been so hard and he took her there on the old mattress and drove his big Burd or Baylee or Beem weener all the way into her and she shouted. All the other boys stood at the outside of the shack door and they listened to her shouting. She shouted very loud and he pumped into her. "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," he said with each thrust and with each thrust he pushed deeper and deeper down into her.
Her ass banged down into the mattress and she wrapped her legs up around his back and tightened the muscles in her cunt around his dick. It filled her all the way, filled her up to the very walls of her cunt and she screamed and squeezed as hard as she could on his cock and he banged into her, uh, uh, uh, uh. She shouted. "Oh, my God, oh my angel, oh, yes, oh, oh, oh." He felt her tighten herself around his cock, and he panted and pinched her tits and licked her nipples and banged into her as hard and as fast as he had ever banged into anyone in his entire life.
The boys outside listened as he panted and she screamed and they pounded against the mattress and into the floor. She shouted very loud and then the noises subsided. He drew out of her and she licked him dry. "Um," she said, "it tastes just like tapioca pudding." He did not know what tapioca pudding was, but he liked the sound if it and it was a whole other world from having his stuff spit out the car window.
He thought he was in love.
Leslie knew better, but she let him bang her several dozen more times and they became steadies, of a sort and she had it off with three of his brothers and two of his cousins and his nephew and his uncle. And she fucked him a lot. When she got to high school she knew it was time to move on and she needed badly to graduate from the Burds and the Beems and the Baylees and from Amos, her more or less steady, to the nice clean boys from the other townships who played football.