Chapter 7
No one in the canyon needed a newspaper or radio or television report the next morning. The fire was evident in the Wasatch Mountains. A broad billow of smoke lay like a rumpled pillow against the sky, a grey and dirty brown.
By midafternoon, it could be smelled. Borate bombers made pass after pass at the lightning-set fire or fires. Fire fighters were being recruited in Idaho, Oregon, New Mexico and Arizona-but those states had several fires of their own.
The governor ordered the National Guard on alert and a move was started to mobilize college and high school students for the less hazardous operations. At the moment, there was little to be done effectively-the first or fires were in terrain that was inaccessible from the ground and too rugged for jumpers.
Nola was mystified and grateful the next day that she had no feelings of self-recrimination about her experience with Corbie the night before. Instead, there was a serenity in her mind and a sense of satisfied fulfillment in her body- especially up her butt where Corbie had had her finger and her avid tongue.
When Bob Chapman parked in front of her apartment in midafternoon and strode up the walk, she let him in, surprised by the coolness she felt toward him. She accepted his fleeting kiss casually and brought coffee from the kitchen.
"How bad is the fire?" she asked.
"It's going to get worse," he frowned. "It could blow right over the high ridge and come right down into my development-that would just about wipe me out. But I'm arranging to bring in an independent fire-fighting agency and I've talked to the school superintendent here about recruiting the older boy-students. Some forty have agreed to help. Say, what makes this school so 'special'?"
Nola smiled at him. Maybe Terry could answer that, she thought, wondering if the redheaded English teacher would ever tell her-in detail- what she had done after leaving Corbie's apartment. "Just a prestige approach to attracting rich kids," she said, shrugging, "Oh, there are some problem kids here-assigned by the courts. It's just a private school, that's all," she finished.
Bob peered at her solemnly across the brim of his cup. "You know what I was talking to you about yesterday?"
Nola's heart lurched with excitement. He's changed his mind about that nonsense-about being transformed into a female. "Yes," she said softly . . . I'm glad you see how foolish that is.
"Last night, I had a conference with a doctor at a private Ogden clinic-about having it done," Bob said, his eyes snapping with excitement. "He said it would be relatively simple. He said he can get a surgeon in from Denver for me."
"Oh, Bob," Nola groaned with disappointment. "You don't really want that." Boldly, she said, "You have such a magnificent set of genitals- really fabulous cock and big balls. Just think about how much you'll miss-" she tried to excite him "getting a big hard-on, climbing on top of a naked woman-in between her legs and having her defenseless and lunging your monstrous prick up her pussy."
But her words seemed to go right past his ears. "The doctor said special hormone treatments can produce good-sized knockers and I'll have a pussy just like any woman and men can fuck me."
You're deranged, Nola frowned, shivering from an inner chill of disgust toward him. "You mean you want to be dominated by males, have them wrestle their hairy torsos between your legs and hold you down-some of them with booze on their breaths and smelling of stinky sweat-and shove their cocks into your body?"
She looked away when he nodded avidly. She was tempted to tell him to go find some stud and to take off his clothes and bend over and let the guy shove his cock up his ass and cornhole him. But she merely rose to bring more coffee.
Nola answered the phone, listened, said, "Right away," and hung up. "I have to go over to the infirmary," she told Bob. "Will you be by tonight -or keeping tabs on the fire?" Inexplicably, she hoped he wouldn't be around. Maybe she and Corbie could visit again. As she followed Bob down the sidewalk, her mind sang. Maybe Terry would be available, too.
She was met by Corbie in starched nurse's uniform. "In the office," Corbie said flatly. "The superintendent is here, too."
"What's up?" Nola asked, frowning as Corbie patted her rump playfully.
"One of the boys sent to the school by the State was caught-was caught smoking pot in the boys' restroom. And you're supposed to explain the error of his ways and convince him never to do it again and scare the begads out of him about how hazardous it is to his health."
Corbie closed the door and the superintendent pointed to a youth slouched in a straight chair. "This is Quentin," he said. "Quentin, this is Miss Jones. I want you to talk to her. You know, level with her about what you were doing. Okay ?"
Nola drew up a chair and sat, slightly facing the youth who was obviously a little hostile and frightened. She appraised him quickly, from the well-muscled arms folded across his husky chest, to the lean waist and hips and strong legs that filled the legs of his Levi's.
His gaze flitted to her face and away. "We'll talk," she said, not looking around, dismissing the superintendent. She waited until the head of the school hesitated at the door. "Nurse Stephens, I want you to stay-for awhile," Nola said. Is it just this boy, or am I just starting to notice things'? she wondered, her eyes resting on the prominent tenting of his jeans, the buttons stretched. She waited until Corbie sat down behind her. "How old are you, Quentin?"
"Almost fifteen," the boy said tersely. "Smoking pot, huh?" He shrugged.
Without looking back, she addressed Corbie, "I wish the doctor were here to make a routine examination."
"Like what kind of examination ?" Quentin demanded, a hand rubbing across his narrow face and pushing his long, sandy hair back from his face.
"Oh, blood pressure, draw a blood sample, run a urine test, pulse beat, heart check. Those kind of things," Nola smiled into his face, inviting confidence and friendliness.
"I can do all of those except make the various blood tests," Corbie said. "Even the doctor would take the blood to Ogden or Salt Lake to a lab."
Nola stood and strolled around the room, finally perching on the desk in front of the youth. "Where do you want to check him, Corbie?"
"The room at the end of the corridor, the one that opens onto the regular examination room," Corbie said. "It's the room we use for patients to recover from having splinters and hangnails removed." Her voice was bantering. "Come along, Quentin."
Nola followed Corbie and the youth into the room, stood patiently as Corbie tossed him a hospital gown. "Put this on and go through this door. Come on, Nola."
A few minutes later, the boy stuck his head through the door. "Hey, this thing is ripped down the back and don't hardly cover me."
"Don't worry about it," Corbie snapped. "Let's get this over with. Okay?"
Timidly, the youth stepped into the room, one hand holding the gown closed at his rump, the other trying to stretch the shorty-gown down his thighs to conceal his genitals.
"On the scales first," Corbie said. "Five-feet, eight-inches; one-hundred, fifty pounds. On your back, on the examination table," Corbie ordered.
As the youth struggled clumsily to preserve his modesty, Nola caught a glimpse of dangling balls and limp penis. "Hell," the boy muttered, flustered and tugging the gown down his legs.
Deftly, Corbie drew two vials of blood from a vein at the bend of his elbow and loosened the tourniquet hose. "That didn't hurt, did it?" She next checked his blood pressure. "Now sit up so I can check the ticker and pulse," she said.
Again, as the kid swung his bare legs over the edge of the table, Nola got a fleeting look at his peter and balls. And a strange fluttering sent dazzling flashes of heat through her chest.
Goddamn, she fretted, am I getting a hang-up like Terry? Could I-would I-take advantage of a teenaged boy like this? Then Corbie was handing the boy a bottle. "Step into the bathroom and pee in the bottle."
Nola stared sharply for another glimpse of the kid's sex organs, but he succeeded in covering himself and slipped backward into the bathroom. "We'll give him the old Army short-arm test," Corbie grinned impishly at Nola. "Did you notice he's pretty well-hung?"
Nola looked away, certain that the blush of heat in her face told Corbie that, indeed, she had noticed his male eggs and omelet-beater. "Yes, you certainly did." Corbie giggled, stepping around the table to kiss Nola quickly on the mouth and pinch her hard, feverish titties.
In a couple of minutes, Corbie called, "Hey, Quentin, come on out here." When he appeared sheepishly, she said, "Set the bottle of pee on that table and come over here." When he stood doubtfully before Nola and Corbie, Corbie asked brusquely, "Ever made it with a girl? Any chance you may have picked up a social disease? Well, no matter whether you want to brag or complain or not, I want to see if your dingus has the dribbles. Use both hands and pull the gown up around your waist."
"Hey! Hell! Oh, no. Not in front of you two women?" the boy protested, voice whining, desperate, embarrassed.
"You do it-or I'll do it," Corbie shook her head. "Up with the gown. Right now."
With eyes pleading, he slowly seized the hem and lifted the gown to expose his dangling gonads and limp pecker. "You look clean," Corbie said. "Whether you have or not, I bet that a lot of girls would appreciate that-if they knew you had it."
Nola felt numb and licentiously stimulated as she watched Corbie pat the youth on the hard buttocks, take his peter in one hand and milk it downward toward the floor. For several minutes, she used her hand on his peter, fingers squeezing and milking, forcing blood into the limp glans. She kept her voice professional, "I don't detect any squirmy VD germ evidence."
Nola thought she detected a faint swelling in the boy's peter under Corbie's expert manipulation. Her breath was painful in her chest as she watched the RN take the boy's testicles in her hand and rubber them around, deliberately jostling his young peter. "Any pain in what I'm doing?" Corbie asked.
"Noooo," the boy choked out the word. And Nola saw a trembling in his long legs, tendons crawling in his thighs.
Corbie dropped his balls and opened a drawer, taking out a rubber glove. She thrust her hand into it and coated the middle finger with Vaseline. "Now, Quent, I want you to spread your feet apart, bend over and put the palms of your hands on the floor. Okay? Do you understand?"
When he hesitated, she opened the garment and slapped him sharply on the butt-buns. "Bend over, Buddy boy. One more test, then you can take a shower and get into bed. Now-bend over, like I told you."
Awkwardly the kid spread his legs, bent forward and supported himself on his hands.
Nola leaned far to her right as Corbie squatted behind the boy, one hand on the upper flare of his hips. She grinned at Nola, drew her arm back like an archer, fist doubled except for the middle finger and aimed at his ass.
She smeared some of the lubricant up and down his crack, then, fingers nudging his dangling balls. She peered across his proffered rump and winked at Nola. Her lips formed the words, Nice set of balls and good pecker.
Corbie gently touched his anus with the tip of the gloved finger and screwed it back and forth. The kid groaned.
"Don't tense up on me," Corbie said, pushing her finger. The kid keeled forward. "Hey, hold still." She tried again and he retreated from her. "Enough of that," she laughed, slapping him on the bottom. She reached between his legs and grasped his cock and balls. At the same time she skewered her finger to the hilt in his asshole.
Nola felt a rising, consuming passion being stoked in her cunny as she watched Corbie massage the boy's ample genitals and work her finger back and forth in his butt.
"Ooooohhh," the kid whined, his head shaking from side to side.
He could get hard in a minute, Corbie's lips formed the words for Nola to read.
Nola leaned her face close to Corbie's. "How big do you think his cock is?" she whispered softly in Corbie's left ear.
"Six or seven-maybe eight inches," Corbie whispered back, ending with a quick kiss on Nola's parted lips. "Want to take him on? Get him to fuck his young dick up your passion-chute?"
Nola didn't reply, leaned back weakly on the stool, watching Corbie continue squeezing and tormenting the kid's bag of goodies and lengthening lollipop as her finger fucked in and out of his asshole.
At last, she stood up, jerking her finger from his canal and releasing his genitals. "You saw the shower in the bathroom, Quentin? There is a towel on that high shelf. Take a hot shower for me. Miss Jones will talk to you later."
When they heard the shower running, Corbie took Nola's elbows and urged her to her feet. Instantly, she embraced her, their breasts flattened together and Corbie began a long, lingering kiss, their tongues flying and slurping, teeth nibbling on lips. "I have been known to cum while French-kissing," Corbie whispered. "I really dig it, sucking tongues and swapping spit."
A buzzer rang and Corbie stepped away from Nola. "Damn, there's someone at the desk. I'll be back as quickly as I can. Keep tabs on our young stud."
Nola paced nervously, wishing Corbie would return, that the boy would finish showering. Yes, she would like to take on the kid. How could Corbie know so many things? Maybe she should be the school psychologist counselor.
She was jolted from her reverie by a startled yell in the bathroom. She sprang to the door and yanked it open. The shower was still on, but the boy was stretched out across the floor. Nola turned off the water and knelt beside the unconscious youth.
He must have fallen, she frowned. His pulse seemed all right. So were his eyes. She turned him onto his back and placed a folded towel under his head. And there was a lump on the left temple. Just knocked out. she thought prayerfully, wishing Corbie would come back.
She took down another towel and began drying the boy's body. Then she hesitated with her gaze riveted on his genitals. Such a nice peter and big balls, her mind advised her. With a trembling hand she dried his groin region. And- whoom-his peter stretched like a lazy snake.
It grew longer and fattened perceptibly. "A curious snake," Nola intoned, fascinated by her inspection of his organ. She tossed away the towel and took up his pecker in a nervous hand. His balls yo-yo'ed as she gripped his meat.
As she stared at the quivering thing in her hand, the memory returned of watching the boy, body jackknifed, sucking on his own peter the night before. Nola swallowed nervously.
The turn of her mind was almost frightening and her eyes wouldn't blink as she stared at her hand, fingers wrapped around the young boy's responding penis. Was it an aberration or curiosity? she worried. Could she do it? Would she do it? Did she, in some secret warp of mind, want to do it?
Unbidden, her hand moved, peeling the foreskin far back away from the glans and her tongue flicked out as she stared at the dark glans, delicately pear-shaped.
Softly, she said, "His peter is so warm-almost scalding hot." She gripped the limber tube firmly and lifted it up and away from his inert legs. His husky balls climbed in their crinkle-skinned sac.
"Oh, God, I must be going crazy," she moaned, senses reeling. "How can I even consider doing that-this? Always before in my life, the idea of playing with a male's sex organs was repulsive. Yet-I'm doing it."
Her hand rode smoothly back and forth on his burgeoning barrel and there was a singing gloating of conquest and accomplishment as her hand slowly brought him out. "What will I do with it- to it-if I get it hard and erect? And what if Corbie should return-right now?"
Nola's mind seemed to be entering a dazed and hypnotic state. She seemed obsessed with what she was doing to the boy's peter, entranced as she watched it swell slowly, the balls balloon and stretch the wrinkled sac smooth like an orange.
She slid a hand into his crotch to cuddle his balls and the other held his hunk of meat up at the base. As if enslaved by some perverse force. Nola leaned forward, her heels together, dug into her sex-lace. "I'll try," she whined, "I'll do it." Her eyes stared glassy, slightly crossed, at the rubbering hose and dark tip. Her lips parted, her tongue moistened them. She paused and just the tip of her tongue flicked at the snake's eye in the tip. Her mouth opened wider, wider, wider. And she lowered her face. "Ughhh, hgh, hunhhh," she coughed as the full rubbery tip flecked against the soft palate of her mouth.
And Nola slowly closed her lips around his peter, sucked in her cheeks against his meat, tensed her tongue to push the hot bulb against the roof of her mouth. She drew a deep, ragged breath through her flaring nostrils and sucked mightily on his rapidly expanding prick. Her hands kneaded and caressed and milked on his balls and around the thickening base of his cock.
Her eyes stared at the hand working on his balls and the one jacking off his cock, her thumb jogging against her chin. A trickle of saliva escaped her lips and her tongue danced out to recapture it. There was a pagan crooning in her brain as she began rocking her body back and forth, her face adapting to the rhythm of the hand that was flogging up and down on his now-rigid cock.
I'm mouth-fucking him, she acknowledged, an uncanny sense of elation singing in her head, her ears thundering. And she bobbed her head faster and faster, swishing her tongue around the thick point and swirling it around the fat shaft on the downward thrust.
The elation of a new experience sent shivers of orgasmic pleasure cascading through her loins and her pussy burned, her asshole itched.
She tried every time she down-fucked her vacuuming mouth on his pulsating prick, but she was unable to take it down her throat. The head hitting the back of her throat had a stifling, choking, gagging effect. But she knew she loved the exhilarating sensation of going down on the kid, giving him a blow job.
I like sucking cock, she admitted frankly to herself.
"Good grief, go at it, Honey," she heard Corbie behind her. "That's the way to suck prick. Eat him like crazy, Gal. Go at it. Can you take all his cock in your mouth-you know, swallow it?"
Any other time in her life, she would have jumped away from the lascivious thing she was doing, but Corbie's words and tone urged her on and she sucked his cock with increased fervor, slurping loudly as she sucked the honey from the head of his prick.
She felt Corbie kneeling behind her, put her hands up under her dress to fondle her ass cheeks. Corbie was hauling her panties down from over the long, shapely moon-globes of flesh and her ass was bare. Corbie's hands urged her thighs apart so she could get at Nola's sex-pouch.
Wonderful, Nola thought, sucking ravenously on the boy's long, thick dong, Corbie's going to finger-fuck my pussy and my asshole.
Corbie tossed the hem of Nola's skirt up across her back for free access to her cunt. Nola murmured her pleasure when she felt a couple of Corbie's fingers probe deep into her vagina. Then they were withdrawn and Corbie was probing at her cunny with something sturdier than fingers and her mouth was suctioned onto her bulging asshole.
Nola's back straightened and stiffened at the pressure exerted against her vaginal entry and almost swooned with pleasure as Corbie swabbed her tongue against her anal pucker. She continued sucking ravenously on the boys' sex-plumbing. Dully, she knew that Corbie had gotten a dildo from somewhere and was cork-screwing it deep into her clutching cunt.
Give me nine inches, Nola wanted to beg, but she had a mouth full of cock that was expanding and spasming and a flood of thick jizz hit her tonsils with a gush and she was busy swallowing cum and sucking prick and having a heavenly cum.
Especially when Corbie flipped the switch and there was a wild vibration shattering her in-sides. Nola felt that her cunt was exploding, that her asshole was burning like Rome in Nero's time. And Corbie continued fiddling her tongue up her rectum ...
And-Goddamnit-the kid was coming to.
"You had a fall, Quentin," Corbie said gently, "let us help you into your gown and get you to bed."