Chapter 3
A shaft of sunlight lanced across the room and played its golden glow on the two naked figures lying in a limb-locked embrace upon the tousled bed. Slowly, with almost imperceptible movement, "the stark, revealing patch of light crept along the sleeping form of the voluptuously molded Jodie. Her pale skin, lit by the intense sunlight, seemed almost transparent. The intensity of the lighting picked out and exaggerated the golden, silky bloom of the hair on her relaxed, parted legs.
Like some silent, secret intruder that had stolen into the room, the sunlight touched lightly on her skin, warming it with its caress. Emboldened by the regularity of her breathing, the sun's warm hand drifted unnoticed up her leg until it played among the golden blonde fuzz that fringed her cum-stained pussy. Lingering on the tasty morsel, it poured through the protective screen of soft, girlish cunt hair until it was hot upon the pink flesh of her exposed love lips.
The girl purred in her sleep as she felt the reassuring warmth seep into her, like the presence of a lover's comforting hand. Half an hour later, the searching shaft of sunlight had stolen over her in slow exploratory questing until it had known the firmness of her thrusting tits and the darker ring of the areolas around the appetizing nipples.
Tiring of her tits, the sun's rays reached out to touch the serenity of her sleeping face. Doll-like in fresh-skinned youthfulness, she presented an incongruous picture as she lay with Dick's hairy dong planted firmly in her red-lipped mouth. A thin trickle of saliva ran from the corner of her lips and glistened in the sunlight bathing her cheeks.
The sun soaked through her closed eyelids, sending bright reds and yellows to disperse the gray mists of sleep. Messages flashed through her brain, demanding her awareness. She jerked into consciousness and a startled realization of where she was.
Easing the intruding penis out of her mouth, she sat up abruptly in the disordered bed.
Dick lay beside her, sleeping serenely. His relaxed breathing came in soporific snorts through his open mouth.
Jodie looked at him lovingly, then, bending over, kissed him lightly on his forehead. This was the first day of her newly acquired maturity and this sleeping man was the person responsible for the butterfly's emergence from the chrysalis of childhood.
Last night, Dick had told her of the completeness of their union. That they were truly merged. And they were, with the unbreakable bond of her first love joining her to him. She felt the bond as surely as if it were a physical thing-a strong steel chain that bound her close to the man that she loved so intensely. Her every feminine fiber felt the links, the ties of invisible responsibility that she had toward this wonderful, beloved, sleeping man.
She would show him that he had made no mistake choosing her or in his waiting until she could mate with him in the mature response of her awakened sexuality. But there was more to her, and their union, than screwing, wonderful as she admitted it was. She'd cook him a breakfast like he'd never had before.
Jodie padded across the room, the plump lines of her girlish figure jiggling in time to the tread of her feet across the worn, threadbare carpet. Going behind the broken-springed, book-strewn davenport, she reached up to grasp the half-drawn serapes that served as drapes. Her firm, uptilted tits brushed against the rough, hand-woven material as she yanked the drapes apart and let the. warm California sun flood into the room.
She gazed unbelievingly at the disorder that was revealed by the stark glare of the sunlight. She shook her head, half amused by it all. That this was the room that she had been reborn in. The room that she had ridden a stiff prick along the hard road to womanhood in.
She let her glance travel across the littered, chaotic mess until it rested on the tumbled bed.
Dick lay, still and unmoving in a heavy sleep of complete sexual fulfillment.
Let him sleep on for a little while longer, she told herself. He would need all the rest that he could get to recharge his failing batteries for his next encounter with her newly proved pussy.
Silently, so as not to disturb him, she drifted about the room, searching for something she could use as a dressing gown. Something to slip over her naked body before venturing into the communal kitchen to rustle up some food. She knew that it would be senseless to look in her hastily packed overnight case. The last thing she had thought of last night was packing a frilly, glamorous peignoir.
Opening the closet door, she rummaged through its contents quickly. There was an open-weave Mexican poncho thing that looked inviting. She ran her hand over the fabric and thought that the coarse texture of the loosely knitted wool would contrast nicely with the softness of her white skin in an interesting, provocative manner.
Pulling the triangular shape of the garment over her head, she pirouetted in front of the stained glass of the full-length mirror.
Just right, she told herself happily. The density of the weave was too close to reveal more than a faint suggestion of her naked body underneath it. She ran her hands down her sides. It was a little chilly around her bottom where the garment flared out loosely, barely covering the rounded cheeks of her arse. Reluctantly, she went over to the heap of clothes beside the bed and pulled on the lacy, semi-transparent panties that she had worn the night before. Now she would be quite adequately covered in the unlikely event that she met somebody while searching for the kitchen. She looked around the room for a clock. What the hell time was it? By the sun, she judged that it was neither very late, nor very early. Probably that in-between time when everybody who was working would have already left the house, but those people who managed to live without punching a time-clock would still be dreaming of where the money for the next joint was coming from.
Opening the door, she stuck her head out and peered along the corridor. Not a soul in sight. All the other doors were closed, blind and indifferent to her presence.
Silently she made her way toward the end of the passage where she judged the kitchen to be. Her bare feet were noiseless and the only thing to indicate her passing was the faint, lingering trace of her perfume as she moved-a slight, almost indiscernible suggestion of the flower-scented deodorant that she had sprayed herself with so many fateful hours ago before setting out on her disastrous date with Tony for the high school dance. But now the artificial scent of the synthetic flowers was being replaced by the pungent, spicy odor of a woman who had been laid and laid again until the pouring sweat of her flushed flesh had merged with the sweet tang of her overworked, juicy twat. Over all, the faint musky smell of stale sperm mingled in an unmistakable, telltale mixture for the knowledgeable to recognize.
Jodie reached the end of the passageway and a half-opened door. Gingerly, she pushed it open, prepared to find a naked couple balling away, oblivious to her intrusion.
The reality was something of a letdown. A commonplace and rather dirty kitchen stared back at her. The smell of stale grease and fried, quick meals assailed her nostrils. Sniffing delicately, she pulled the serape around her and walked forward, determined that no obstacles would come between her and the breakfast that she had secretly promised the man she had left sleeping in the room along the corridor.
Selecting a pan from three chipped enamel ones hanging on nails behind the ancient gas cooker, she washed it carefully under the discolored brass faucet. Leaving it upside down to drain rather than use the dirty dish towel, she opened the chipped, rust-spotted door of the refrigerator.
Surprisingly, there was food stacked haphazardly on its shelves. Grabbing a handful of eggs, she placed them in a bowl on the table.
She pushed the hair away from her face with the back of her hand as she decided what she was going to do with them. An omelette sounded like a good idea. She went back to the fridge for some mushrooms and bacon that she had spotted lurking behind some doubtful cans of opened vegetables. She lifted the food to her nose and sniffed before she decided that it was fresh and fit to make a meal from.
She smiled ruefully to herself. She was going to make some changes around here if Dick expected her to set up house in this dump.
Her mind made up, she went about her work quickly and efficiently. The shells crunched as she broke the eggs and started to make a batter for the omelette. Not bothering to search for a whisk, she beat at the mixture vigorously with a fork. The motion made her conscious of her boobs, which were bouncing about like a topless dancer's.
Laughing amusedly to herself, she put the bowl down and lifted the serape up to her shoulders. Peering down over the fold of material, she experimented with her bouncing knockers. Bobbing her head and shoulders, she contented herself with sending her breasts jumping in an up and down motion. Tiring of the sameness, she began to improvise a little. With a sideward movement of her shoulders, she soon had her boobs swaying excitingly across her chest. Her hands were held high above her head like a Spanish dancer's as she tucked the serape tight with her elbows.
Engrossed as she was in her performance, the first intimation she had of an audience was a man's voice from the open doorway.
"Fascinating... I always did say that a floor show would liven up breakfast in this joint. Incidentally, what do you do for an encore?"
Confusedly, Jodie let the serape fall over her still bouncing knockers and turned her startled, blushing face toward the intruder.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
The man's eyes travelled insolently up her body until they met her gaze squarely. "That's soon answered," he replied evenly. "I happen to live here. But may I ask you? What's a girl like you doing in a nice place like this?"
Jodie chose to ignore the banter in his tone and tried to force her trembling voice into some semblance of dignity.
"Actually, I'm visiting my... er... uncle. Mr. Richard Hamilton. He lives along the hall, you know."
The man's eyes had reverted back to studying Jodie's barely concealed knockers. He answered without altering his study. "Yes... I do know. So Dick's got a... er... niece, eh? I hope that you are not wasted on him. My pad's close by if ever you get lonely or frustrated."
His eyes travelled up to Jodie's face and narrowed speculatively. There was a few moments' silence during which the man seemed to evaluate Jodie. There was a different, more accepting tone to his as he spoke again. "Why don't you drop by and meet my 'old lady?' I think that you and she might hit it off. You're so totally different that you'd be good for each other." He reverted back to his former bantering tone, as if embarrassed by the opening that he had created-as if reaching out from behind his defensive banter was a gesture to be ashamed of.
There was a slight gibe of sarcasm behind his words. "You'll notice that I don't call the chick that I'm shacking up with my niece? It's a little too bourgeois for the now generation. Whatever is, is, and as we don't kid anybody, admit that it is. Right?"
His frankness was totally outside Jodie's experience. Picking up the batter bowl, she decided to try and match it, to just accept him and carry on as if he and his talk were an everyday occurrence in her life.
The young man was staring into space at a point somewhere over her shoulder. Jodie took the opportunity to examine him in turn.
He looked quite a nice guy, really. A pair of frank, penetrating blue eyes challenged the world from behind a thick, untrimmed beard. His slim, erect figure, coupled with his beard and attitudes, made Jodie think of pictures she had seen of Jesus Christ. He had an air of unhappy knowledge of human frailty, coupled with a crucified look of "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
But for all his great differences from anybody she had ever come into contact with, Jodie felt instinctively drawn toward him.
If Dick and she were going to be together, she would have to learn to relate with the people that he knew. The realization that this encounter that had thrown her so much was probably the accepted normal behavior for Dick's circle of friends made her feel very provincial and gawky. She was going to have to mature, and fast, if she was to keep pace with her new life. There was more to being an adult woman than just getting laid.
With exaggerated unconcern, Jodie moved over to the window to examine the mixture in the batter bowl.
The man's voice followed her across the room. "Mind if I come in and watch you?"
Without waiting for her reply, he walked across to the kitchen table and sat down heavily on one of the unmatched rickety chairs.
The man adjusted the position of his chair until he had Jodie's trim figure silhouetted against the brilliant back lighting of the window. The sunlight cut through her flimsy garments, like a hot knife through butter, leaving her ripe figure revealed in all its plump glory.
Unaware of the man's scrutiny, Jodie spoke to him over her shoulder.
"Want me to make enough for three?" She indicated the food with a nod of her head.
The guy surveyed the slices of bacon. A look of revulsion sprang to his face. "Thanks, but no thanks."
He looked hungrily at the bacon for a moment or so before continuing. "We're vegetarians," he explained. "Whenever we can afford to eat, that is. Cynthia, that's my chick. I call her Cyn for short. She'll be getting up to fix us something shortly. I left her in bed smoking. Usually, I leave her in bed steaming. Today she's smoking. Had a hell of a night. We're working our way through the Kama Sutra. I should live that long."
His eyes clouded over reflectively as he added. "But Christ. What a way to go..."
Jodie thought it was about time to bring the conversation around to a less hazardous subject.
"Do you know where the knives are kept? I want to peel the mushrooms for the omelette."
"Try in the knife drawer. You might be lucky. The flour is in a tin marked sugar. The tea's in a Maxwell House jar. Want I should give you a tour of the premises ending up in bed?" he asked hopefully.
Jodie again tried to control the situation and carry on what she judged was a reasonable conversation between two strangers.
"Not just now, thanks. I'm busy. By the way, my name's Jodie. Jodie Hamilton. Dick really is my uncle, you know. Didn't he ever tell you about me?"
"Hell no," was the reply. "He never talks about anything but poetry and baroque music. I've known him since we were at San Francisco together. We both split the scene after the pigs took over the campus at Berkeley. We're pacifists at heart. I don't mind carrying banners and shouting 'pig' from the sidelines, but when the bastards start coming after you with clubs, it's time to leave the halls of higher learning. Welcome to our new ivory tower."
He stopped for breath, giving Jodie a chance to ask again.
"Now I've got your history, why not tell me your name?"
"Name... name. What the hell do people want names for? It's what you really are that counts. My I.D. says Jerry Mander if it's important to you. Handy for snap decisions and value judgments, I suppose."
Jodie smiled at him warmly. He was definitely a nut. But rather a likeable, refreshing one at times.
"Are you and my uncle friends?" she asked.
"Sure we are. Have to be. Nobody else would put up with us. Live and let live. He applauds my mistakes. I encourage his postures. It's worked out fine for four years now."
He cast his eyes approvingly over her revealing costume.
"Glad you came on the scene. I was beginning to get worried about Dick. Not living up to his name at all. Too much celibacy is bad karma." Jerry sniffed the air knowingly. "Guess you've helped him break his vows. Did he give you a good tumble?"
It was impossible to be annoyed at his directness, and Jodie decided that she'd play him at his own game.
"Best I've ever had," she told him frankly. "I've never known anything like it before. Groovy."
Jerry looked at her with astonishment. "Really. You telling the truth? So Dick is a dirty old man, after all. There's hope for the bastard yet."
He sat reflectively running his fingers through his beard while gazing abstractly at Jodie. Though his thoughts seemed far away, his mind was very much in the present. His eyes appraised Jodie's outlined figure appreciatively.
She had taken advantage of the lull in the conversation to return to preparing the neglected breakfast. The brilliant light from the window, unknown to her, poured through the open weave of her covering serape like water through a sieve. Like water, it played around the contours of her body, leaving little eddies of light and shade which showed the full ripeness of her young body in all its beauty. The scanty, transparent lace of her panties did nothing to conceal the promise of her rounded ass and belly.
Jodie turned away and walked over to the sink to rinse the peeled mushrooms. Jerry watched the cheeks of her ass, tantalizingly delineated by the flesh-marking elastic of the bikini briefs she was wearing. The alternating undulations of the melon-sized cheeks rippled down her soft thighs as they moved.
Finishing her task, the girl crossed over to the antiquated gas cooker, affording the watching Jerry a revealing profile of her jutting breasts. The delicately hued nipples had firmed into small inquisitive points that pushed through the woolen strands like ripe grapes seeking the sun behind obstructing vine leaves. Instinctively, the watching man licked his lips, imagining the taste of such acceptable morsels as they rested against his pointed tongue.
Reaching out, Jodie raised her arms and fiddled with the pan on the top of the cooker. Quietly Jerry changed his position so as not to waste a moment of the glamorous exhibition.
The rewarding sight was well worth the effort. The girl's arms swept in a delicate flowing movement until they fell into the sparsely haired hollows of her armpits. Her high, tip-tilted breasts reached out abruptly in breathtaking sharpness. The tiny pink cherries of the nipples balanced on the points of the white swell of her tits like trembling dewdrops on spear-pointed leaves.
The serape fell away from her ass as she leaned forward for a moment, allowing the inviting rise and fall of her stomach to intrigue the lusting watcher. The convexity converged into her thighs, leaving a prick-teasing bulge around her mound of Venus.
The blonde, faint fuzz of pubic hair was compressed by the skin-tight panties, like a protective veil over the delicate meat of her cunt. A few golden hairs curled under the restriction of the pantie fabric between her legs.
Tearing his feasting eyes away from her enticing crotch, Jerry let his gaze wander down her equally alluring legs. There were two dimples in the soft flesh just above her well-shaped knees.
Jerry moistened his parched, dry lips.
"You know, kid, you're all right. I'd like to see a lot more of you."
His flickering eyes took quick inventory of her wares.
"Yes, you're the kind of chick that I like to have around. There's a depth you have that's fascinating."
His eyes were back to her crotch again. "Sort of half-veiled mystery that challenges me. It shows without you being aware of it. Why don't you and 'Uncle' drop by and see us real soon?"
Jodie nodded absently, her mind more on the browning omelette she was watching.
"Sure will. If Dick's a friend of yours, I'm certain he'll say yes."
She selected a couple of plates and rinsed them under the tap.
"What do you and your wi... I mean Cyndy, do most of the time?" she asked out of curiosity.
Jerry uncrossed his legs before answering. The bulging erection was causing him some discomfort.
"Well, much of the time is taken up with an unending quest for 'bread.' When we have managed to quiet the hunger pangs, we go in for all sorts of mind-bending kicks. We're on a sexual expression thing right now. Screwing our way through the Oriental philosophers. It's wild. We must enlighten you some time. Then there is auto-suggestion to heighten the spiritual awareness. Group hypnotism. We've managed to regress Jo Ann back to her seven-year-old self. Did you ever read about Bridie Murphy?" He looked at Jodie questioningly.
"No? It's 'way out. Our group is a little more hip to the times, though. She blew me the other night while talking with a lisp. Brought all my wickedness out into the open. I felt like a child molester. The group said it was a good experience. Revealed my psyche and let me know what kind of a depraved bastard I was so I could guard against going into parks and hanging around school playgrounds. Probably saved some little girl from a traumatic experience."
Jodie shuddered. The import of what he was saying shocked her.
"Do you really think that acting like that is healthy?" she asked point-blank.
Her strange companion shrugged away her disapproval. "Healthy? Of course it's goddamned healthy. We are what we are. The sum total of all our parts. If one of my bags is leching after little girls, much better I know about it and face it and control it. That way nobody gets hurt. Least of all, some poor frightened little girl."
As Jerry finished the sentence, there was an unexpected softness and concern in his voice that made Jodie realize that there was a human being of real value lurking behind the mask of cynicism that he usually wore.
She smiled at him, the first genuine recognition she had allowed since he had first burst into her young, sheltered life. She made a deprecating gesture toward the food that was waiting on the table in front of her.
"Sorry you have to bring such a mundane subject up, but I'm hungry. I'm going to feed my man now. See you later, huh?"
Jerry's voice seemed to penetrate the scant protection of her clothes as it followed her out of the room.
"Sure thing, Jodie. I think I'm going to see a lot of you. Later. 'Bye now. Swallow it all down, it's healthy."
Confused as to whether he was referring to the breakfast she was carrying, or what she had been doing with her uncle's seething sperm, Jodie decided not to answer his parting shot and made her way to the door of her refuge in silence.