Chapter 6
Valerie never felt quite like herself, sleeping in a strange bed. There was something unreal about it, as if she were not really there, but somewhere else, watching a stranger wearing her skin, lying in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place. And tonight, to add to her feeling of strangeness, she was wearing pajamas. Valerie just never slept in pajamas, but tonight it seemed like the thing to do, to give her a feeling of protection in this foreign room.
Protection against what, she wondered? Not Peter or Hank or Steve or Walter, or even Andy. Bob had told her that Peter would be sleeping on a cot in Andy and Walter's room, which meant that the five of them were in the two rooms at the front of the house, with Bob in his own room, with the door open, he'd told her, right across the hall from the foot of the stairs that led up to the room where she was sleeping.
Sleeping? She doubted that she'd do much sleeping tonight, even if Bob couldn't find a way to come up to her. It had been a terribly frustrating evening, with all those boys around, and her wanting Bob every minute, the way she did. And she'd been up to her old tricks, too. She couldn't help herself. She'd always been a tease, she knew, even as a little girL When they played "house" with the little boys, and "doctor and nurse," and they got to the part where they were saying, "You show me yours and I'll show you mine," a lot of the girls would stop playing the game and go home.
But not Valerie. She'd show them hers-but never before she'd seen theirs. She knew the size and shape and distinguishing characteristics of the pecker of every little boy in the neighborhood. She liked to play with one little boy at a time, after the fainthearted of her friends had been eliminated. She'd take off her pants and raise her skirt and spread her legs, and let them look at her naked hairless little slit from every angle. But she never let the touch it, much as they wanted to. She could always distract them by touching theirs.
She loved to diddle with the stiff little shafts-pushing them down and watching them spring up again, teasing them to and fro with her finger. Sometimes, when she was playing with those throbbing, pulsing, stiff little toys, they would start to squirt, and she loved to watch them spurting their colorless drops of liquid out onto the garage floor, or wherever they happened to be.
Once her mother had caught her doing that with a little boy, in her attic on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Her mother had given her quite a talking-to, after that, but Valerie hadn't been as repentant as she'd let her mother think. The only result of the lecture was that Valerie was more careful about where she went with the boys.
But she never did let them touch her, until high school. And it was in high school that she first heard the word "cock-teaser." She knew the word applied to her, but she didn't mind a bit. In fact, she liked it She even went out of her way to five up to it
By the time she was fourteen, Valerie had woman-sized breasts--full, proud, jutting out for all the world to admire. Especially all the male world at Templeton High School. She never started wearing a bra until her mother made her, and even then sometimes she took it off during the day. She let them joggle and bounce under her blouse or sweater, and wore short tight skirts and wriggled her rear end when she walked, and everywhere she went the boys followed her with their eyes, and mumbled to each other, and it seemed to her that the word "cock-teaser" was in the air around her. She loved it.
In her senior year her French teacher told her if she didn't stop wearing tight sweaters in her class, half the boys would fail their Begents. She took that as a compliment, and kept on wearing sweaters.
Steve Endicott, who was now trying to sleep, she knew, in one of the front bedrooms on the floor below her, had been in her English class during her senior year at Templeton, and she had taken a particular delight in teasing Steve. He had sat at a desk directly across from hers, two rows away, by the windows, and the seventh period sun had been behind him on her. She had made it a point to face him, all during class, while she appeared to be intent on what the teacher was saying or reading from her desk at the rear of the room.
She let her knees come apart as they faced toward Steve, and occasionally she would glance over and see him staring up under her skirt, at the converging shadow of her soft white inner thighs, and she'd cross her legs, sometimes carelessly putting one ankle on her other knee, giving him a good long look, all the way up to her crotch. A few times, feeling very daring, and excited, too, she'd taken off her pants in the girls' room, just before the seventh period, and had given Steve an. occasional glance at her pink blond pussy. Steve got terrible marks in English, his senior year.
When she went out on dates, she kissed with her mouth open, and used her tongue a lot, and loved the feeling of a hard-on pushing against her. She let the boys feel her breasts, and play with them all they wanted. Sometimes she let them kiss the nipples, and suck on them, and if she was excited enough, she let them touch her pussy, and even put a finger inside. But only a finger.
If they got very excited and the going got rough, she would unzip their flies and take out their cocks and play with them, moving the soft skin up and down between her fingers, until they came. She carried a big handkerchief with her, on dates, to take care of that.
And then, of course, there was the one time, that afternoon with the three football players, in the back of the car. She'd had to use her mouth on them, sucking them off one at a time. She had pretended that she hated it, but she hadn't at all. She'd liked the feeling of their hard cocks in her warm sucking mouth, and had used her handkerchief to catch them when they came. She didn't want that awful stuff in her mouth.
But she'd never let any of the boys put it into her. She'd stayed a virgin.
Until this summer. Until Bob. Ramses, his mother called him. What a funny name. Ram. She wished he were here right now, ramming it into her. Ram. Where the dickens was he? He said he'd try to sneak up, as soon as he thought the others were asleep. Maybe his mother was awake, or had left her door open, or something. The old bitch. Old spoilsport. But she did look as if she'd had some fun, in her time.
Valerie rolled from one side of the bed to the other, trying to avoid the temptation to touch herself. But she kept thinking of Bob. Where was he, anyway? She thought of the first time she'd finally spread her legs and let him get on top and put the head of his by-then familiar long stiff stem between the eager little lips of her pussy, and push. Ram. Ram was a good name, after all.
Instinct had taken over, she remembered, and she found her hips pushing back all on their own, and then in one blinding second of pain he was all inside her, and the pain was gone.
And then Valerie was lying on her back, she couldn't help herself, and her fingers began stroking the soft warm orifice between her legs, feeling its moistness starting.
She heard a tiny creak on the stairs, outside the open door to her room, then another.
She took her hand away, guiltily.
And, wraith-like, Bob was in the room, wearing only shorts. He looked unreal, somehow, in the moonlight that filled the room. But there was nothing unreal about him. Even in the unreal light, she saw the reality of his hard-on, poking out the leg of his shorts.
"What kept you?" she whispered.
"My mother."
"I thought she went to bed long ago."
"She was watching television in her room, and when she heard me come up the stairs, she wanted to talk. All these years I've hardly known her and now, tonight, of all God damn times, she wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk."
Bob slid under the sheet beside her and found her mouth with his own. She reached for his rigid cock and held it, gently, lovingly. She broke the kiss, then, curious.
"What did she want to talk about, for God's sake?"
"She thought it was time to tell me about the birds and bees, or something," he said. "Anyway, I think that's what it was. I kept steering her off the subject."
Her hand began to move, and as always she marveled at the velvet softness of the glove covering the iron beneath.
"Don't do that," he said, but he didn't push her hand away. His middle finger found her moist parted lips, and began to caress the hard little bud of her clitoris.
"Ooh," she said. "But what about your mother now? Don't you think she heard you come up here?"
"I heard her turn off the TV right after The Sermonette," he said, sliding his finger up her wet welcoming young channel. She raised her knees and opened her thighs wide to give him more room. "And I gave her plenty of time to get to sleep. She's a sound sleeper, my mother."
"That's good," Valerie said, letting her hips start to roll. "What do you suppose people that age do?"
"What age?"
"Your mother's age."
"Do about what?"
"About this," she said. "About sex."
"She keeps busy with a lot of things. I guess people that age don't even think about it any more."
Valerie felt him roll over onto his side and she raised one leg. He moved his hips under her upraised knee and she felt the taut slippery head of his rod moving up and down in the mouth of her pussy.
"I love that," she said.
"So do I. I could keep it up forever."
"You better not."
"We have all night."
"Yes, but we have other things to do all night."
"No hurry. It's a long time till dawn." Then she felt his head start to penetrate deeper. "Bob."
"What?"
"I just thought of something." He was halfway in her now.
"What did you just think of?"
"If we had a TV set up here."
"There is a TV set in this room."
"We could do it dog style," she said, "and both watch TV."
She giggled with him in the dark.
"After a while," he said. "We'll catch the Late Late Show."
Afterwards they lay back happily, side by side in the big bed, the room dark now except for the last rays of moonlight against the far wall.
"I feel sorry for those five guys asleep downstairs," Ramses said.
"And your mother," Valerie said. "I feel sorry for her."
"I never thought of that. But don't feel sorry for her. I guess she had hers in her day."
"I just bet she did," Valerie said. She felt him stiffen beside her.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," she said hastily. "Just that she's such a beautiful woman. I never saw such gorgeous legs."
"She won some kind of beauty contest before I was born."
"Really?" Valerie said. "I didn't think she'd ever go in for that sort of thing. She's such a cool kind of cat So dignified, I mean."
"It probably wasn't much of a contest," Ramses said. "Miss Pickle Week, or something."
Valerie thought of something, and giggled. She hadn't meant to giggle, out loud.
"What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing."
"Yes you were. About pickles." Valerie giggled some more. She couldn't help herself.
"Would you like to do it with a pickle."
"No."
"I bet you would. All those warts and all."
"You stop it," Valerie said.
"All right. Shall we turn on the TV? With the sound off?"
"No," Valerie said.
They did it dog style anyway.