Chapter 6

That same morning Betty and Anna were almost late for school, since they had been more interested in talking about Jett than in hurrying to make up for a late departure from home.

"Isn't he rugged?" marveled the older girl.

"Don't you think he looks a lot like Burt Lancaster?"

"I think he looks more like Paul Newman."

"What are you talking about?" scoffed Anna. "Paul Newman doesn't look anything like Burt Lancaster."

"I didn't say he did. I said Jett looks like Paul Newman."

"Paul Newman doesn't have shoulders and arms like Jett."

"He's built like a prizefighter."

"Did you notice the bulge in his pants?"

"I noticed you couldn't keep your eyes off of it."

"How could I help it?" Anna giggled. "His pants are so tight I was afraid he was going to choke himself."

"You didn't help him any when you bent over and let him see your fanny."

"Did he really notice?"

"I thought he was going to split his pants."

"You're jealous because he didn't look at you like that."

"He would have if I'd worn my black dress with the black pants."

"Mama won't let you wear that. You've hemmed it up so high that you don't even have to bend over to let them see your fanny. It's more of a blouse than a dress."

"I wonder how long he's going to stay."

"Well, gee, as long as he works in the garage with papa-he might stay forever."

"Well, at least for a long time."

"Did you notice the way Mama was looking at him?"

"Yeah." Anna was somber. "You don't suppose she would, do you?"

"Would what?"

"You know what I mean."

There was a short pause. "Sure she would. Let's face it. Papa's getting gray. You know, she probably wants more than Papa's able to do any more."

"Yeah. It's like the book said. That a woman hits her peak about thirty and a man when he's in his teens."

"Isn't that a real wild, groovy thing?"

"What?"

"You know. About a woman hitting the peak about thirty."

"Yeah. Can you imagine liking it better than we do right now?"

"Not really. Wild and groovy."

"Anyway, Papa's probably slowed down so that he only wants to do it...." She cocked her head and appeared to calculate. "Oh, say, three or four times a month any more."

"And Mama's about at her peak, which means she probably wants it every day."

"That's just averages, though," said Anna. "Maybe Papa's more active than average, and Mama less active. Then they'd match up better."

Betty giggled. "And maybe Mama's a real hot piece and likes as much as she can get. Don't forget, we've heard her coaxing Papa at night when he's tried to go to sleep."

They both thought back to nights when they'd tried to spy on their parents' sex activities by listening outside their door after they'd gone to bed. Usually all they got for their pains were sore knees from kneeling on the hard hall floor, although a couple of times they had been gratified by hearing the sounds of springs squeaking and hoarse breathing, and once they had heard their young stepmother pleading with their father to make love to her. Betty scowled at the memory.

"If that's so," she went on, "then poor Jett hasn't got a chance. She'll find some way to get into bed with him."

"Why do you say poor Jett? I bet he'd love it. And I'll bet she's real good at it. But do you really think she would?"

"Sure. He's cute. Would you, if you had the chance?"

"Oh, I don't know," she struggled elaborately.

"Don't hand me that bit about you-don't-care," jeered the older girl. "You're probably trying to figure out right now how you can get alone with him so you can get him to fuck you."

There was a moment's silence, then Anna said defiantly, "So what if I am. Aren't you?"

"Sure. I'd give my left nipple to have his shoes under my bed some night."

"Maybe we can both have him," suggested Anna.

"Me first. You don't stand a chance with him anyway. He'll think you're too young and won't have anything to do with you."

"Don't kid yourself," said Anna grimly. "I bet I can get him before you do."

"I'll bet you can't."-"It's a bet!"

They walked silently for a few steps, then Betty spoke again. "Maybe that's not such a " good idea."

"Why not?"

"We're liable to get into trouble. You know, if we both try to make him right there in the house, somebody's going to get wise. Mama will have her eyes open, and if we get anxious we're liable to tip off what we're trying to do, and then we'll both be in the soup."

"Yeah, you're right. If Papa caught us we'd be in real trouole. But you know, even if just one of us was after him, Papa might still find out."

"All right. We'll help each other. We'll figure out the best way to get him alone and maybe one of us can even be the lookout or the decoy to keep Mama and Papa from getting wise."

"Since I'm the oldest," said Betty, "I'll take him first, I'll wait till late tonight and sneak into his room. You wait by the door and if you hear Mama or Papa start to come out of their room, you make a noise and warn us."

"If you go into Jett's room tonight, I'll go in and tell Mama and Papa where you are," declared Anna defiantly.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to let you go first."

"We're right back where we started. Neither one of us will get him."

"That's like cutting off our noses to spite our faces."

"Got any bright ideas? Like flipping a coin or something?"

"Why not? We could make it best two out of three."

"I don't like that. It's too uncertain."

"Do you want to make a contest out of it? With him as the prize?"

"What kind of a contest?" asked the younger girl, frowning.

"We could see which one of us could lay the most boys by the end of the week, and the loser would help the winner get Jett over the weekend."

"I don't know," Anna was uncertain. "You already know a lot more boys in school than I do. You're a year older. All you have to do is pass the word around to all the guys you've gone with before that the treat's on you this week."

"It doesn't have to be just in school. Anybody at all."

"I don't like it," Anna balked. "You've got too much of a head start. All you have to do is go down the list of guys you've let fuck you before. I don't have near as many."

"Well, you got any better ideas?"

"Well, the contest's okay, but not just any boy. Let's make it any new boy-somebody we've never done it with before. Then we'll both start even."

"No!" protested Betty. "Then you'll have all the advantage. I've already had most of the boys in my class. Who will I ask?"

"That's your problem," said the younger girl, breezily. "You should be more selective, then you'd have a backlog of prospects." She paused. "Anyway, that's the only way I'll do it." I

"You'll play square? No lying about who you've had?"

"You know I don't lie!"

"Well, okay then. It's a go. The winner is the one who's had the most new boys by Friday night. It's Tuesday now. That gives us four days."

"What time Friday night?"

"No set time. When we get home and in bed."

"Okay. We'll compare totals then and plot how we're going to get Jett."

It was at the end of third period when Betty fluttered her lashes at her math teacher, a sandy-haired young man with a broken tooth and a haggard look.

"What is it, Betty?"

"Gee, I'm sorry, Mr. McGruder, and I hope I'm not making a pest of myself, but I'm having an awful lot of trouble with this stuff we're on now and I wonder if you could help me."

He smiled nervously down at the dark-haired girl whose breasts seemed so oversized for her age, and admired the great length pf bared thigh under her miniskirt.

"I'd like to help you. Do-do you have a class now?"

"No, just a study hall."

"Well, this is a free period for me."

"I know." She smiled confidently, slanting a quick glance over to the door. The room was empty except for the two of them. "That's why I stayed, Mr. McGruder. I was hoping you'd be able to give me a little time."

"I'll be glad to help if I can." His Adam's apple bobbed nervously.

"Let me just close the door so we won't be interrupted," said Betty with a big smile. She walked over to the door and carefully closed it.

When she walked back to Mr. McGruder, it was with a long slow, stride, in some faint way reminiscent of a tiger stalking his prey. Her smile had spread and she was breathing deeply, her breasts pushing up against the sweater as if in rebellion against the restraint. Her hips swayed provocatively from side to side.

"How-how old are you, Betty?" gasped the math teacher.

"Fifteen, Mr. McGruder." Her smile became teasing. "Did you think I'd failed a grade or two?"

"You-you seem much older than fifteen."

"I am in lots of ways," she purred. "Lots of times I'm mistaken for eighteen."

She was almost touching him now, her pointed breasts wavering an inch from his chest as she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her body pushed forward, her face uptilted to his.

"Maybe we'd better get started," he said nervously. "Just what was your problem, Betty?"

"Are you married, Mr. McGruder?"

"Why-why, yes, Betty. Why do you ask?"

"I like married men better than single boys," she said softly. "They're so much more discreet, as well as being more experienced-if you know what I mean."

"Maybe we'd better sit down," he said, clearing his throat.

"I really do appreciate this," she said, and she took her arms from behind her back and clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling herself against him so that her breasts pushed into his chest, flattening against him.

"And I "want to show you how much I appreciate it," she continued, pulling his head down and fixing her mouth on his.

He responded instinctively to the sweet hot pressure of her mouth, and as her tongue slid between his lips, he grasped it and began sucking, his hands seizing her around the waist, holding her firmly. The subtle perfume of her hair filled his nostrils; the warmth and pressure of the soft, full-bodied girl aroused him and made the devils dance in his head.

As he kissed her deeply, his male sex drive made a quick response to the sweet enticement of her hot young body pressed against him. After a moment the sharp realization of what he was doing hit him, he pulled his mouth back from hers and reached up to grasp her hands and try to pull them from around his neck.

"We can't do this! Betty, stop it! Somebody might come in!"

"Poo! Who'd come in here to talk about math when they'd rather be off doing something else?" She tightened her grip around his neck and he strove in vain to break her grip.

"We can't! Now, cut it out!" he cried plaintively, moving backward, but her grip was bulldog-determined and her body kept rubbing up against his. They thrashed around by the desk in the front of the room, she hanging on for dear life, thrusting her hips against him and trying to rub her pelvis against his whenever she got close, while he kept going backwards in a little circle, avoiding the desks and trying to dislodge her.

Inevitably, his heel caught in the corner of his desk as he sidled backwards past it, and the weight of the girl overbalanced him. He fell, with a resounding thud, his body cushioning her fall as she landed on top of him. The air escaped from his lungs with an enormous whoosh and he lay in weak surrender, unable any longer to resist the advances of his youthful charge.

Betty looked down at him, triumphant. She was lying with her belly against his, her thighs spread so that the bulge of her Venus mound pressed intimately against the swelling of his cock. He sucked in air and groaned, her mouth fastened on his, and she began to move her hips from side to side and in a rotating motion. The friction and movement, together with the warmth of her body and the oral ministrations she was bestowing on his lips and tongue, aroused his flaccid cock so that she could feel it begin to swell and harden under her. She kept up the sideways motion, rolling her cunt back and forth across his cock until he reached up. and closed his arms around her.

"This is so nice," she murmured. "I feel your cock. It's hard as stone."

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, but there was defeat in his voice; she knew his resistance was over.

She rocked to one side so that she could get her hand on his cock, and she began to squeeze and rub it.

"You've got a big one," she murmured. "I thought you would have."

"Why're you doing this to me?" he whispered.

"I like you, Mr. McGruder. That's why." She had his zipper down now and her hand was inside his pants, clasping the hot, naked meat.

"Do you do this to every man you like?"

She had his cock out now, free of any restraint from his shorts or trousers, and with her fisted hand she began to move the foreskin back and forth across the ridge of his glans. "Not all of them.-Not yet, anyway." She giggled.

"You-you're just a child!"

She squeezed his hot shaft. "You'll never make this thing believe it now," she said, waggling his cock.

He closed his mouth and his eyes, oblivious to everything but her physical presence and what she was doing to him. She stood up suddenly and stripped off her panties, throwing them over the desk where they landed on his chair. She squatted over him, pressing his cock down flat against his belly with her own soft naked flesh. She stretched out on his body with his cock between them, positioned so that it lay against her cunt, pressing against the warm, moist cleft.

She began to rock back and forth, rubbing his cock with her body. He could feel the heat, and the dampness as joy juice began to seep from her cunt to moisten the puffy folds pressed tight to his cock. He groaned and tightened his hold on her. He was kissing her neck and behind her ear while she kept rubbing his cock.

"You like that, don't you, Mr. McGruder?"

"Oh, God, yes!" he groaned. "Do you want to fuck me now?"

"My God, yes!" he exclaimed. "I want to fuck you."

"Did you ever fuck one of your students before?" she asked, teasingly.

"No, never!" His voice was hoarse.

"The girls talk about you a lot, Mr. McGruder. They say you're real good-looking and groovy. You could fuck a lot of them if you wanted to." She was rolling her hips faster now, the friction on his cock increasing to a delightful level. "I could give you the names of those that really dig you, if you want."

"Just you," he gasped. "I just want to fuck you, now!"

She moved up so that his cock was pressed between the flushed outer labia, then began to slowly sink back onto it. He had her by the waist now; he held her firmly and thrust up with his hips, forcing the bulbous head of his love stick into the hot sheath of her body.

"You're tight," he whispered. "Oh, my, you're tight!"

"Because you're so big, Mr. McGruder," she murmured into his ear, her cheek pressed against his. She wriggled around, seating his cock still further into her. As he bucked up, his hips thrusting, his hands pulled her as if drawing her down over his cock, slipping her onto it.

"You're sweet," he whispered. "You're a beautiful girl, Betty, and you've got a sweet, honey-dripping cunt, squeezing my cock like a hand."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

With a final upward lunge he had slid his cock deep within her tight, clutching tunnel of love, and she began to rotate her hips, grinding down on him.

"Oh, yes, Betty," he cried. "You're a fine girl. I never would have guessed you were so sweet and so tight. God, your cunt feels good on my cock!"

"I'm glad." Her mouth closed on his then, and she began to suck on his thrusting tongue, trying to devour him through the two orifices of her body which held him.

Her hips rocked in a tilting motion so that his cock was drawn out of her cunt for two or three inches, then forced back in with the tilting action of her pelvis. He was bucking up into her with an increasing tempo that she matched with her writhings. She moved faster and faster, her body a frenetic love machine as it stimulated him beyond endurance, past the point of no return, till the scalding come boiled up from his balls to shoot deep into her cunt, the hot juice triggering her own shuddering spasms so that her final flurry of movement brought on her orgasm too.

When it was over he staggered to his feet and looked at her in wonder as she straightened her clothes. She smiled brightly at him.

"Thank you, Mr. McGruder," she said. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." Picking up her books from her desk she left the room. As she left she almost bumped into Mr. Wiggens, the principal, who came into the room giving a fatuous, middle-aged smile to the pretty little student who passed him in the doorway.

"Glad I caught you here, McGruder," he said as he approached the white-faced mathematics teacher. "I wanted to talk to you about your shades. I've noticed that sometimes when you leave at night you forget to draw the shades down all in line with each other."

He paused, waiting for a response from the speechless teacher. His bright, restless gaze flashed past McGruder and fell on the flimsy scrap of nylon on the chair by the desk-Betty's forgotten panties. Wiggens walked past the startled teacher and picked up the panties, holding them delicately between his thumb and middle finger. His voice took on the horrified tone of a preacher watching a member of his congregation in original sin.

"McGruder, you'd better start talking. You've got a lot of explaining to do!"

McGruder's chin bobbed up and down like an apple in the water. Finally sound came. "My wife's, my wife's! Can you imagine? I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief and pulled that out. Can you imagine how embarrassing? It was dark this morning and I must have opened the wrong drawer and thought I was getting a handkerchief."

His attempt at a smile was weak and sickly. Wiggens looked at him with raised eyebrows.