Flossie's Revenge

by Lubrican

Chapters : Foreword | 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-16 | 17-18 | 19-20 | 21-22
23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-34 | 35-36 | 37-38 | 39-40 | 41-42 | 43-44

Chapter 23

Everyone was at the fishing hole by nine-thirty the next day. They were surprised to find Johnnie Sue, Jesse and Luthor already waiting for them, fully clothed. When the first arrivals suggested waiting for the others in the water, they were told there would be no skinny-dipping this day. At least not until later. Nathan and his sisters were the last to arrive. Telling them all to leave their fishing poles there, Johnnie Sue then instructed them to follow her. They did, curiously, asking aloud where they were going. She wouldn't answer. Luthor and Jesse were obviously in on the deal, because they were grinning like the Cheshire Cat in the book Miss Flossie had been reading to them lately.

Johnnie Sue stopped at the pile of boards and turned around.

"Tah Dah!" she said, holding out her arms.

"Look at that!" said Curtis Lee. "How did that get here?"

"We SNUCK it here!" squealed Johnnie Sue. Then she started into a long narrative about how they stole through the night, dodging dogs, and the constable and the whole Ku Klux Klan. Luthor finally wrapped one arm around her waist from behind, and put his other hand over her mouth. She struggled, and the hand around her waist came up to cover a breast. She stopped struggling, her eyes wide.

"Oops," said Luthor, grinning at the others. "I slipped." His hand slid off her breast, very slowly, still pressing hard. "We three snuck the boards here at night. A few each night. It was a surprise, so we could build a treehouse."

The first order of business was to select a suitable tree. The plans, rough as they were, and only verbal anyway, called for a floor large enough for them all to sit around in a circle. That was pretty big. It would take a big tree, preferably with large branches, or trunks, to support a floor that big. They fanned out. Two good candidates were found. They picked the one closest to their favorite fishing hole on the creek. They had to carry the wood about five hundred yards, but there were plenty of them, and it all got moved in one trip. Each of the blood brothers had brought a hammer, and Luthor had brought a saw with him on this date. He had to take it back home that day. He didn't have permission to take it, and he had to sneak it back into the shed without his father seeing him returning it.

They had four boards that were roughly five inches by three inches, and eight feet long. They had been inside the exterior wall of the mansion when it fell in. Three were used to form a triangle, each corner of which was anchored to a tree limb. The last one was used as a support for the middle. Planks were then laid across the triangle. Luthor was going to saw the ends even with the edge of the triangle, once they were nailed down, but most of them didn't stick over far, and they were left. No one would want to step there, outside the triangle, but things like picnic baskets or whatever could be set down there. They had cut up two planks to make the steps, nailed about a foot apart, going up the trunk of the tree. When they had used the last plank, they were about four or five short.

Johnnie Sue, Luthor and Jesse said they'd have to make a few more nighttime runs. Actually, they were all pretty pleased that they'd have an excuse to get together again in the dark. Nathan ruined it for them though.

"No, you went to all that work. If Luthor and I go over there today - just the two of us - and we bring back six or seven planks, we can finish. Nobody will think a thing about two white boys carrying some lumber. And if he can use your bike, Bernie, we can get there quicker."

It sounded like a good plan, and it was added to. While they were gone, the others would fish. If enough fish were caught by the time Nathan and Luthor got back, then there might even be time for skinny-dipping.

Nathan surveyed the pile of burned and broken lumber at the base of the tree in the corner of the house. Most of the good planks had already been culled. They were going to have to move a lot of splintered and charred wood to find more good planks. Nobody had said anything about a roof for the tree house, but Nathan thought it would be a good idea. He wasn't sure how they'd engineer that, but while they were at it, they'd pile up as many good boards as they could find. They could always come back for them later.

They hit a good vein after moving eighty or ninety pieces of junk. They were able to pull out ten boards and piled them by the door. There were more, but they were still nailed together and they couldn't get them loose. There was what looked like a long beam sticking up out of the pile, and Luthor said that could be cut up to make better steps for the tree trunk. To get that out they had to move a bunch more broken pieces of wood from around the stone steps they had discovered earlier. They were doing that when they found the hole.

They thought it was a hole, because when they saw it, and reached inside, they couldn't feel anything. It was framed by pieces of wood, nailed to and being held up by another beam. It took both of them, but they were able to break the boards off enough to realize that what they were looking at was the space that the stone steps must have led to.

"It's got to be the cellar," said Luthor, sniffing at the musty odor in the hole.

Curious now, they cleared away more wood from the steps. Eventually they had an opening almost large enough to crawl into. Neither did, though, because that beam was all that was holding up a large quantity of wood over the opening they had created. They peered into the blackness, but blackness was all they could see.

"I wish we had a lantern," said Nathan.

But they didn't, and it was getting late. They chose eight of the best planks, and the beam they had freed. Nathan got the idea of tying them together and tying one end of them to his luggage carrier, with the other end tied together and sitting on top of Bernadette's handlebars. That way they could push the bikes, which would carry the load. They were able to move at a very quick walk, and got back much quicker than if they had just walked. Then they went to find the others.

Perhaps, because they hadn't swum first, the catch had been good. There were plenty of fish, so that each one could take home a few to show that they had, in fact, been fishing. It was about three or so, by the sun, and the next decision was whether to return to the tree house, or go swimming. Swimming won, hands down.

They were tired, and there was almost no horseplay. They soaked in the water, shoulder to shoulder in a circle.

"How come we never catch any Catfish?" asked Nathan. "I figured with a name like Catfish Hollow that we'd catch lots of them."

"We're not fishing for Catfish," said Luthor, as if that was obvious. When he saw the confusion on Nathan's face he explained that Catfish stayed close to the bottom, and not the top couple of feet where the kids had been hanging their worms.

"Most people use different bait to catch Catfish too," said Jesse. "It stinks something awful."

"Actually," said Curtis Lee, "old Mister Hopkins, before he died? He told me that the town was named that because of all the spooning they did along Foster's creek upstream. It used to be a lot bigger, almost a river, he said, before they started diverting it for irrigation."

"Spooning?" asked Bernadette.

"Yeah," said Curtis Lee. "You see, Catfish like to just lay there with their mouth open and let things swim in. Then they close their mouth and swallow, or whatever. What they'd do is find a hollow in the bank, under the water, and back in there and open their mouth. Mister Hopkins said some of them never moved for years, just letting the river feed them."

"What does that have to do with spoons?" asked Hilda Mae.

"That's the part I didn't get to yet," chided Curtis Lee gently. "I don't know why they call it spooning, but what you do is wade along, in the water, feeling along the bank, until you find one of those hollows. If it's got a Catfish in it, you stick your hand in its mouth, and grab hold of a gill, and just pull him out."

"In his mouth?!" gasped Bernadette. "How in the world could you get your whole hand in a fish's mouth?"

"Well, the way I understand it is that if they just lie in there for years," said Curtis Lee, "they get real big, because they never move and eat all the time. I'm talking two, three feet long. You can feed two or three families on a fish like that."

"Curtis Lee Waggoner, there is no way in the world there is a three foot long Catfish in this creek," scoffed Johnnie Sue.

"I'm just telling you what Mister Hopkins told me before he died. He said some of those fish was big enough that they would clamp down on a man's arm and swim off with him. He said people drowned spooning, because they got hold of a fish that was too big." Curtis Lee looked at the astonished faces around him. "I'm not joking! He told me he spooned one himself that weighed ninety pounds!"

"I'd be happy with a ten pound Catfish," said Luthor. "You think the fish still do that these days?"

"I don't know," admitted Curtis Lee. "I kind of got the impression that there had to be a lot of water flowing for that to happen, and the creek moves kind of slow now. I guess it could happen, but the fish wouldn't get as big, maybe?"

"Lets go find out!" said Jesse, visions of thirty pound Catfish sparkling in his eyes.

"What if we find one that's too big?" worried Hilda Mae.

"We'll go looking in pairs," said Luthor, caught up in the idea. "One can feel for hollows, and the other can hold on to him." He got excited. "And we can work opposite sides of the creek, so there's even more who could help if somebody gets swum away with."

"I don't know about this," said Nathan doubtfully.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," said Curtis Lee. "The creek has been like this for as long as I can remember. I don't think any really big fish could survive. There's not enough water."

Two of the teams, not surprisingly, ended up being Bernadette, with Curtis Lee and Hilda Mae with Moses. Johnnie Sue elected to go with Jesse, because, she said, he was so small and light that even a small fish could swim away with him. Luthor looked at Nathan.

"We're a pretty good team," he said. "Why don't we float, and if anybody feels a really big fish we can run to help them."

That sounded fine to Nathan. That gave them four teams, one for each side of the creek, and two to explore upstream, and two to explore downstream. They agreed to come back in half an hour if nothing had been found.

Within two minutes they were all back together, in response to Jesse's frenzied screams that he was being swum away with. He was screaming that he had his hand in a fish's mouth, and it wouldn't let him go. Johnnie Sue was pulling at him frantically, but she couldn't budge him either. Curtis Lee shoved her to one side, and ran his hand down Jesse's arm.

"Relax!" he said. Jesse slumped and Curtis Lee moved his hand. Jesse's hand shot out of the water and he stared at it, expecting to see shredded flesh and dripping blood. There was neither.

"You had it caught between two roots," said Curtis Lee, trying to hide a grin. Jesse covered his face with both hands, in shame. Johnnie Sue told him it was okay, and that anybody could have made that mistake, and pulled him on up the creek.

Hilda Mae held Moses' hand, under water, as they half walked and half floated back downstream to their assigned area.

"I'm not to hot on the idea of sticking my hand in a fish's mouth," she said.

"Me neither," said Moses.

"I'd rather do something else, instead," said Hilda Mae softly.

"Like what?" asked Moses, falling into her trap.

"Like this," she said, pressing her naked body against his in the water. Her lips pressed themselves to his. Her hands went around him, and slid up and down his back.

Across the creek, and down about thirty yards, Curtis Lee was bent over, running his fingertips along the muddy bank as he and Bernadette let the current carry them slowly along. Bernadette's hands were on his hips, her thumbs almost, but not quite on his buttocks. She had said this was necessary since she might have to jerk him away from a monster fish.

"I don't feel anything," he said for perhaps the sixth or seventh time.

One of her hands left his hip, and he gasped as he felt it go between his legs. A hand fumbled for and then grasped his penis, pulling it gently down and back, between his legs.

"I think I got one!" said Bernadette softly. "It's a big one too! Ohhhh I hope it doesn't swim away with me." She giggled.

Curtis Lee couldn't do much about it. She was pulling steadily between his legs, and her other hand was now on his lower back, pushing. Had he been in deeper water, he could have rolled forward. Then again, that might not have been a good idea.

"Bernadette, let go of me," he said.

"Oh! Is that you, Curtis Lee? I thought maybe it was some kind of water snake." She giggled.

"You know very well what that is," he said, looking over his shoulder. "You're teasing me again."

Reluctantly, she let go. He turned, and his eyes widened as he looked up the creek. She turned to see her sister and Moses Finshaw, clasped together, kissing.

"You are the strangest girls I ever met in my entire life," moaned Curtis Lee.

"I don't feel strange," said Bernadette, thinking about kissing Curtis Lee like Hilda Mae was kissing Moses.

"First I see you with your own brother, and now both of you are messing around with colored boys," he said. "Don't you do anything normal?"

She turned him in the water, moving closer to him, her hands on his strong shoulders.

"I'm a girl. Girls like boys. You're a boy. I think I'm acting perfectly normal."

"But this is crazy," he whined.

"My little sister is over there getting kissed by a boy she obviously likes," said Bernadette. "That's not crazy. What's crazy is that I'm probably going to have to beg the boy I like to see what it's like to be kissed like that. That's crazy."

"But you already kissed me ... back in Miz Hopkins library ... don't you ..."

He was cut off by her lips pressing against his. This time it was no quick, sterile peck on the lips. This time, like Hilda Mae, she kissed Curtis Lee like she kissed Nathan, with loose lips, and probing tongue. The electric shock that tore through Curtis Lee's body made him shake and jerk. Her hands slid down his arms, and then went inside them and around his waist. She pulled, and her body pressed firmly against his. Her hands dropped to his muscled buttocks and rested there as the kiss went on ... and on.

Hilda Mae was on cloud nine. Her body, made slippery by the water, rubbed against Moses. His penis was rock hard, and it was currently sticking between her thighs. If she let herself sink a little, it pressed against her pussy lips. As she pushed her tongue around in Moses panting mouth, she moved her hips gently, sliding them back and forth perhaps an inch.

Moses knew, beyond any doubt now, that this girl liked what was happening. Her hands on his buttocks, and the delightful feeling of warm flesh clamped around his penis was very quickly bringing him to the point where she would have more little white flecks to play with. It felt so good, though, that he wanted it to go on and on. He pushed her away, to give himself time to calm down just a little.

"What's wrong?" she panted.

"Something's about to happen," he panted back.

"You're going to squirt?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss him, not so long this time.

"Yeah," he said. "But I don't want to yet."

She reached for him under water, and he sighed as she gripped his shaft.

"There's my favorite worm," she said, grinning. "I wish I could see it."

She looked over her shoulder, to see where Bernadette was, and gasped as she saw her sister draped all around Curtis Lee. They were kissing passionately. She looked back at Moses, and saw a tiny area of long grass on the bank behind him.

"Get up there," she whispered, pointing.

He had to climb, and then help her up. They both got muddy, but neither cared. She lay him back on the grass, crushing it down with is body, and got on her hands and knees, her face over his penis. She just looked at it for a few seconds. Then her hand went to skin the foreskin back. It was so black it looked strange. But it felt like a penis, warm, and hard, yet soft.

"Don't be afraid," she said, looking up at his face. He was resting on his elbows, his head up, watching her. "I'm going to do something to make us both feel good."

She grasped his shaft in her hand, baring the tip. She kissed that tip, her lips loose and warm as they flowed partly around it. He hissed and tensed. She lifted her head and looked in his eyes.

"I want to do this. Don't be afraid."

She kissed it again, three or four times, alternating kisses on the tip, and then sides of the tip. Then, sighing, she opened her mouth and pushed until her nose pressed against his kinky black hairs.

Moses' elbows gave way, and he flopped onto the grass. His knees came up and he felt pain in his balls. He lifted his head to confirm what his senses told him, that he was inside her mouth. Once that was confirmed, he flopped back down on the grass, his hands flinging out, and surrendered to the incredible feelings she was causing down there. Her head started a quick short jerking motion, up and down, only an inch, and he felt like the top of his head was going to pop right off. She started making high pitched mewling sounds that were strange because they were coming through her nose. She shook all over, like a dog getting out of a pond, and then, very slowly, her lips began to slide up his shaft to the tip.

She pulled off with a slurping sound, and smiled at him. "You made me feel really good, Moses. You can spurt now."

Then she sucked on the tip of his prick, and her hand slid up and down his shaft. Thirty seconds later, as the sweet release hit him, he heard her swallowing repeatedly. She kept sucking as he tensed, wanting to curl up into a ball, and then flopped back to the grass limply, his eyes closed.

He felt cool air on his prick, and opened his eyes to see her standing over him.

"Thank you, Moses," she said softly. "We'd better get back in the water before my sister notices we're missing. She'll think a fish swam off with us." She smiled.

Bernadette was in trouble. While she kissed Curtis Lee, her hand was stroking his manhood. He wasn't stopping her this time, and he was as hard as stone. She felt the urge. She wanted to taste him, but she was afraid that it would frighten him, or disgust him, or break the mood. Still, she was almost vibrating with need.

Letting go, she lifted her legs, and wrapped them around his waist, trying to press her pussy against his flat stomach. That didn't work.

Their kiss broke, and she stared into his eyes.

"Curtis Lee ... I need ..." she panted.

"What do you need?" he asked. He kissed her again, a short kiss, but full of passion.

"I need you to do to me what Nathan does," panted the girl.

"With my mouth?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes searching his.

"Do you do that for him too?" he asked.

Her eyes told him the answer before she nodded.

"Could you do that ... for me?" he asked.

"I want to do that for you," she gasped. She kissed him hard, her mouth moving.

"What about your sister?" he asked.

"She's probably doing the same thing to Moses," she panted.

He pulled her further downstream, and around a bend. There was a muddy sandbar, and he laid down on it, his long prick sticking up proudly. She stood over his head and squatted, her knees spread, displaying her sex to him wantonly. She leaned forward then, getting into position, and took him into her mouth, sucking lovingly. Then she lowered her pussy to his lips, and began to rub her pussy all over his face.

No one found any catfish, lurking in holes in the bank that day. When they all got back together, Jesse wanted to go back to the treehouse.

"We're all wet," said Hilda Mae. "We can't get dressed yet."

"So?" said Johnnie Sue. "We'll just carry our clothes and dry off on the way."

They looked odd, a line of teenagers, carrying clothing and fishing poles and strings of fish, as they walked quietly through the woods, wearing only shoes. Somehow, once they arrived at their new place, they didn't get dressed. Instead they climbed. It was interesting that, behind each girl, stretching her feet up from one step to another, which put her pussy on clear display, there was a boy, looking up as he climbed. And, behind each boy who climbed, there was a girl, staring up at the balls and penis of the boy ahead of her. When they sat down in a circle, the boards creaking under them, all the boys had stiff pricks.

Being naked together like this seemed different somehow, without the water to shield them. There was an interesting mixture of the excitement of a member of the opposite sex being able to see you, and a feeling of embarrassment at being seen.

"Well," said Johnnie Sue, looking around at the boys' laps. "I can see one problem already." The others looked at her and she grinned. "Last time we had this problem, the boys went into the woods and released some sexual tension. If we're all up here they can't do that."

"We could just close our eyes," said Hilda Mae, joking.

"There's lots of tree up above us," said Bernadette. "They could all climb a different branch." She giggled.

"They'd probably get all excited and fall out of the tree," laughed Johnnie Sue. She was so giddy that she misspoke. "Jesse practically falls down every time he ...." Her eyes got wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"And how would you know that?" asked Nathan, leaning forward with a stern look on his face. He knew exactly how she knew that, but he hadn't told anybody.

Johnnie Sue sat there, her hand still clapped over her mouth, staring wide-eyed at Nathan.

"You've seen him?" It was Curtis Lee who spoke. That wasn't so odd, really. Bernadette and Hilda Mae, after what they had done with Nathan, and now with Moses and Curtis Lee, didn't find it that odd that a girl might have seen a boy masturbate. If they'd have had time to think about it, they might have acted surprised, but they weren't. Jesse, Luthor and Moses, of course, also knew Johnnie Sue was well acquainted with what a masturbating boy looked like, so they weren't surprised either.

"Sort of," she said weakly.

"Sort of," repeated Curtis Lee.

"Well, we all know boys do it," said Johnnie Sue, flustered. She was thinking frantically, trying to find a way out of this mess. She remembered Jesse's howl in the woods that day. "And that time when we sent the boys into the woods he was all yelling because he squirted for the first time."

Her eyes went wide again. This time she clapped both hands over her mouth and then closed her eyes tightly.

"It appears," said Curtis Lee, looking at Bernadette, "that some of us are much closer friends than we might have thought."

Bernadette, who didn't feel guilty at all about what she had done, either with her brother or Curtis Lee, looked back at him with innocent eyes.

"Why in the world are you looking at me?" she asked sweetly.

Curtis Lee had the feeling he had been taken for a ride. Nobody but him seemed to be amazed that Johnnie Sue had an intimate knowledge of Jesse's masturbation practices.

"We're all friends here ..." he said carefully. "Right?"

There were nods all around.

"Think about that for a minute," he said. "Would any of our parents approve of what we are doing right this minute?"

There were shakes of heads all around.

"And even if we weren't all naked, would they approve?"

More universal shakes of heads.

"Then since we are friends, and since we trust each other so much, shouldn't we be honest with each other?"

This time the nods were a little less enthusiastic.

"How many girls here have seen a boy masturbate?" he asked.

The three girls went round-eyed, and looked at each other.

"Come on ..." said Curtis Lee smoothly. "We're all friends here. How many girls have seen a boy jerking off?"

At first there were only twitches of hands. Then, almost in unison, as they darted glances at each other, each girl slowly raised her hand.

"And how many boys here have seen a girl masturbate?" he pressed on. "Tell the truth, now!"

His seniority in the group had its effect. All the boys raised their hands.

"Does anybody here notice that I'm the only one with my hand down?" asked Curtis Lee. "Why is that?"

He was under the misapprehension that all of the raised hands had done all of those things together, in one big group. He felt like he had been ambushed.

"That's not fair, Curtis Lee," said Bernadette, looking hurt. "It's not like you've never done anything."

"You want me to tell them what ... I've done?" he asked, looking at her intently.

She turned beet red.

"What's he talking about?" asked Nathan, sensing some undercurrent here.

Bernadette was sensing something of her own. She was sensing that her brother might be very angry with her for sucking on Curtis Lee's stiff prick and drinking down his sperm. She had loved doing that, playing with that long, hard, brown thing. It exceeded her hopes when she finally got her hands on it. Never again would she confuse her brother's thick white penis with Curtis Lee's long slim one in her mind. She thought the best way to head off his anger was to put him in a situation where he wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

"How many girls here have had oral sex done to them?" she blurted.

Again, the girls searched each other's eyes. In an almost identical repetition, three hands slowly went up into the air, floating above three bent elbows. There was a look of intense relief in all three girls eyes as they saw the others' hands.

It made Bernadette feel so much better to see Johnnie Sue's hand in the air that she went the next step.

"Leave your hand up if you've done oral sex to a boy."

As soon as she saw that Johnnie Sue's hand stayed up, she went on.

"And all the boys who have had oral sex done to them ... put your hands up!"

Curtis Lee was flabbergasted. He slumped, his hands on his knees. "All of you?" he croaked. "Everybody here?"

Bernadette reached over, grabbed his hand and pulled it up into the air.

"All of US," she said steadily.

"You didn't!" said Nathan in a hushed voice, staring at his sister.

"I got really, really horny," she said softly. "And I like Curtis Lee."

He looked at Hilda Mae, who was sitting up straight, her hand still in the air.

"I got really horny too," she said simply.

"Who'd you have oral sex with?" asked Johnnie Sue suddenly. They all looked at her. She was looking at Nathan. "You sure didn't have it with me."

Nathan's jaw sagged and a look of pure panic came over his face.

Oddly enough, it was Curtis Lee who came to his aid. When he had seen Nathan find out what his sister had done to him, and there had been no outraged attempt to kill him, some barrier in his mind had finally come down. He had never really trusted a white person before. He had never really believed that any white person would treat him with genuine courtesy, and certainly not respect. Nathan's overtures to him in the past had been welcomed, in an amazing kind of way, but now he actually believed that Nathan would, in a given circumstance, react with his mind, instead of some built in racist attitude.

"We're all friends, here, Nathan. You can tell them ... if you want to. But if you don't ... it's really not our business."

Nathan sat there, but the feeling of being trapped slowly evaporated.

"I'd really rather not say," he said, his mouth dry. He kept himself from looking at his sisters. He looked at Johnnie Sue instead. "Okay?"

Johnnie Sue had been watching him closely. She had her suspicions, but when he didn't look at either of his sisters, and she thought about how that now that everything was more or less out in the open, and nothing seemed to be falling apart, she relaxed.

"Okay," she agreed. She saw both Bernadette and Hilda Mae slump, and hid a grin. "Well, that solves one problem." She looked around at the curious looks on the faces of the others, wondering what she was referring to. "I guess they don't have to go off into the woods to take care of things any more."

That broke the tension. They weren't quite ready to engage in an orgy of masturbation together, but the group had grown a lot closer in the last few moments. Chatter started up again almost immediately, as they found things to talk about that were off that subject, and less threatening.

Curtis Lee looked over at Bernadette, who was looking at him.

"You're either very brave, or very stupid," he said softly.

"Nope," she said, just as softly. "I'm just very horny." One offshoot of the incident was that Bernadette suggested it might be a good idea to build other platforms in the big tree, further up in the branches, that would provide a place for one ... or two people ... to seek a little privacy. She suggested that a platform like that might be a good place to read, perhaps.

Chapter 24

"How could you do that with him?" asked Nathan anxiously, as they were on the way home. They were pushing their bikes, in no real hurry.

"How could I do it with you?" Bernadette came back.

She had a point. Was one really any worse than the other? Still, he felt a loss, somehow.

"Does that mean you won't ... with me any more?" he asked.

She put her kickstand down and turned, right in the road to kiss him, grinding her pussy into his loins. When she was done, she stood back, a smoky look in her eyes.

"I love you, Nathan," she said, breathing deeply. "I'll never stop doing that with you."

"What about me?" asked Hilda Mae, some impatience in her voice.

"You did it too, didn't you?" asked Nathan. "To Moses."

She, like her sister kissed him and humped him lustily.

"I love you too," she said. "I'll always love you." She smiled at him. "I could love you right now if you want."

That part of Nathan that is in every man ... that part that says "You're mine!" growled inside him. He looked at her lips, lips that, by her own non-verbal admission, had recently sucked at a black boy's cock. She was his sister, and no matter how much he wanted to ...

Did he really want to do that? he asked himself. His eyes roved to her breasts. He did! He felt it in his gut. He would lay with his own sister if she allowed it. Both of them! That was too much. He pulled back, feeling guilt again. He didn't want either Moses or Curtis Lee to do that with them either. He closed his eyes but that didn't help. He saw white legs, wrapped around black hips, as those hips rose and fell between those legs.

"Maybe later," he mumbled. "I don't feel too good right now."

Bernadette grabbed him and he opened his eyes. "I do love you, Nathan. I like Curtis Lee ... maybe even a lot, but he could never take your place in my heart."

"That's the problem," said Nathan, agonized. "You're my sister, and I shouldn't feel like I do about you. I can never marry you."

"Marry me?" she said. "Why on earth would you want to marry me?"

"If I did what I want to do I'd have to marry you!" he said, his frustration boiling over. He stopped. "Now do you understand?" he moaned.

She did. She understood very well. She had contemplated what that might be like, not only with Nathan, but with Curtis Lee as well. She had clamped down on those thoughts, true, but she'd had them. She knew what it felt like to yearn to feel something thick and solid pushing into where only her fingers had been. She just hadn't believed that Nathan would ever think of doing that too. Hilda mae stood by, nervously. Her emotions and thoughts were remarkably like those of her sister's. She'd thought about having full sex, but was easily satisfied if she could tickle that spot deep in her throat with a prick.

"Oh," said Bernadette. "We can't do that."

"No! We can't!" he moaned. "But that's how I feel about you. And I feel the same way about Hilda Mae! Is it any wonder I'm a little jealous of him? Of both of them? And that doesn't even take into account that they're colored. What if they fall in love with you like I have? What if they want to do the things married people do? Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be for all of us?"

Bernadette's own frustration bubbled up.

"Of course I know it! Do you think I don't know what Daddy would do if he even found out I'd held Curtis Lee's hand?" Tears began to run down her face. "But I like him. I can't help that. And I know Hildy likes Moses too. She wouldn't do anything with him if she didn't!" She was so unhappy she sat down in the road. "I don't know what to do!" she wailed.

They were completely at a loss, too young and too inexperienced in the hard lessons of life to know where to turn. Eventually they all moped on toward home. Hilda Mae was carrying the stringer and the fish were dragging through the dirt as she plodded along. She had been nothing but happy with the way things were going. She liked Moses, and he liked her. She loved doing things with Nathan too. Everything was perfect. Sure, she had to be careful, but kids get used to being careful while sneaking around. They never think they'll get caught. Now, the serious nature of the conversation sank into her bones like cold water thrown on a body baking in the sun.

Her reaction, as they passed Flossie's, wasn't as strange as it sounded.

"Hey!" she said, stopping. "Let's ask Miss Flossie what we should do."

Neither of the other two took it seriously, of course. To confess everything to their teacher would be insane. She was an adult. She would do something terrible. Adults always did. Their negative attitude about it sank Hilda Mae back into the depths of despair. She looked over her shoulder twice, as they walked on by Flossie's house, the hope she had felt slowly dying. They were right. Why had she thought Miss Flossie would be able to help?

They were savvy enough to put up a good front when they got home. They hadn't cleaned their fish yet, and Marian gave Nathan one of her good knives to do the work, telling him to do it out in the back yard, and to bury the guts, heads and tails. She was in a pensive mood. Harvey had been very rough with her this day, and she'd have to be careful to cover the bruises he'd left behind. He had been particularly savage with her breasts, biting them, almost drawing blood. She had loved it then, but they were sore now and she worried. If he got much more violent than that, he could really hurt her.

The mood in school the next week was strange, at least from Flossie's point of view. Most of them were perky and happy. She saw things between Johnnie Sue and some of the boys that looked remarkably like flirting, but now she did it with all of them, Nathan included. It was probably a phase. Flossie remembered those difficult days, when hormones raged through her body and she felt urges to do the most outrageous things. She remembered being either gloriously happy, or miserable, with very little in between. The Wilson children, though, were morose. Something must have happened at home ... something very negative. Bernadette, usually bright and cheerful, was practically non-communicative. Hilda Mae simply looked mournful. Nathan seemed to be tightly wound ... on pins and needles. During recess she stepped beside Nathan and spoke to him without looking at him. "So, are you ready to paint some more?" "I guess so," he said. "You don't have to, you know," she said, assuming he had lost the desire to paint. "I can do it myself."

He looked at her, frowning. "No, it's not that. I want to help. I've just got things on my mind."

"Okay," she said. She stepped away to break up a tussle between Leon and Otis.

At supper that night, Nathan said: "I was down at the store and a lady asked me if I'd help her paint her kitchen. She offered me five dollars."

Bernadette and Hilda Mae stared at him.

"Who was it, dear?" asked his mother.

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "She lives over that way." he pointed vaguely with his fork. "It's a white house with green shutters," he lied.

Harvey looked at him, but didn't say anything. There was a sneer on his face, though. He didn't have to say anything.

"Well, I suppose five dollars is five dollars," said his mother. "You won't ruin any good clothes, I hope."

"I'll be careful," said Nathan. "I told her I could help out in the evenings for a bit each night."

After supper Bernadette and Hilda Mae came to his room, where he was lying on the bed reading.

"What was that all about?" asked Bernadette.

"I'm tired of sneaking around," he said. "Now I can go help Miss Flossie whenever I want, and they won't ask questions."

"Oh," said Bernadette.

They left. It still didn't feel right to initiate anything, and besides, their parents were still up and awake. He didn't ask them to stay either. Controlling his urges seemed to require that he control all his urges, and not just the ones that were so dangerous.

He went to Flossie's that night. She was surprised to see him, but opened the door wide. She was still wearing the dress she had worn to school that day. Nathan could smell something good in the air and he looked to see her supper on the table.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt your supper. I can come back another time."

"Nonsense," she said. "I was just sitting there feeling sorry for myself because I didn't have anybody to talk to. Come on in. Won't your parents miss you?"

"I told them a woman hired me to paint," he said. "I didn't tell them who. Actually I told them I don't know her name."

"You really shouldn't lie to your parents, Nathan," she scolded.

"I assume you have a middle name," he said blithely. "I don't know it, so I wasn't lying completely." He smiled. "Oh, and now we have to paint the outside white, with green shutters." She looked confused and he explained that part.

"I don't have any shutters," she said, laughing.

"I'll make you some," he said, smiling.

"It's good to see you smile again. This last week in school I thought you were going to waste away from sadness." She looked at him expectantly. The relationship they now had, at least here in this house, was such that he couldn't miss the invitation to talk about whatever was bothering him.

"I can't talk about it," his face closed down. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," she suggested gently.

"No, you don't understand. If I told you, you'd hate me forever, and I don't think I could take that right now." He said it with the kind of feeling that convinced her he believed that. She couldn't imagine what could be bothering him that she'd hate him for. She felt a stab of worry. Two of her other students in the past had been recruited for the Klan. It happened right after they graduated, and both of them had come to her to ask her what they should do. Could the same thing have happened to Nathan? Had he accepted already?

"Even if you joined the Klan I wouldn't hate you," she said carefully, watching his face. Nothing happened, except he looked faintly surprised, and she felt much better. She took a another stab.

"You haven't gone and gotten some girl in the family way, have you?"

The reaction to that was more visible, though not the look of pain and anguish a young man would have if he knew he was going to get married very soon, not having planned that. Still, the way he jerked and looked away suggested she was getting warmer.

"No, it's not that," he said. "Not really. I told you I can't talk about it. Are we going to paint or what?"

If she chased him out with her questions, it wouldn't do either of them any good, so she subsided.

"I'll just go and get changed, and then we can start." she said.

She went into her room and closed the door.

Nathan looked around for the paint, but didn't see it. The brushes she kept wrapped in oil cloth when they weren't being used weren't visible anywhere either. He stepped toward her door, meaning to speak through it and ask her where they were.

The door was old, and didn't fit the frame well. He stood by the door and yelled: "Miss Flossie, where's the paint?" She didn't answer immediately, and for no particular reason, he reached out to touch the door as he drew breath to yell louder. That light touch on the door was enough to defeat the tired old latch, which was stuck in the 'in' position anyway, and the door swung open two feet. Flossie was standing there, facing him, having walked toward the door to answer him. She was naked, and held the shirt she intended to wear in her left hand.

It surprised them both. In the split second before she reacted, and pulled the shirt to her chest, Nathan saw what he had only dreamed of. She was shaped like an hour glass, with a narrow waist and broad, almost manly shoulders, above swelling hips. Her breasts, without the bra she usually wore, were large and heavy looking, though they sagged only enough to make a line of something like shadow under them. Her areolas were coal black, and the fat nipples that sat on them were the same color, making her skin look chocolatey brown. Thick, black pubic hair enhanced that effect, as did the hair on her head. Nathan noticed those black spots, including her eyes, and when she opened her mouth, the pink of it, and the white of her teeth made him think of some kind of chocolate desert, with cream and strawberries.

For Flossie, the unpreparedness claimed her ability to think. Her eyes went to his face, an automatic response to see where he was looking. Like most women, she saw his eyes looking at the parts of her that men usually look at. His eyes moved swiftly, wildly, and the look on his face was of pure surprise. She realized in that instant that he hadn't done this on purpose, and was just as surprised as she was. In that split second she was aware of two distinctly different minds inside her head. The modest Flossie wanted to scream at him for looking at her like that. To rail that he was invading her privacy. That was the 'Proper Flossie'.

But there was another Flossie inside, the one who had dreamed of this boy.

One of those dreams had put them in a grassy meadow. She was on her knees, and he was standing in front of her, leaned over backwards as she stroked his erection. When she had waked from that dream, she had recognized instantly that she had dreamed of Johnnie Sue and what she had seen Johnnie Sue doing. She had replaced Johnnie Sue with herself, and Jesse with Nathan.

That Flossie wanted to yell "Yes! Look at me like that!"

That was the 'Wanton Flossie', she had told herself. The tart ... the slut ... the one who must be controlled.

Proper Flossie moved her arm to drape the shirt across her breasts. Wanton Flossie kept it from covering both breasts, and instructed the hand to hold the shirt so that it hung above her pussy. Nathan's mouth opened and closed, and he suddenly let out a whoosh of air that signaled he had been holding his breath, and could no longer.

Proper Flossie, deciding that nothing could be done about what had already happened, said "It's outside by the tree. I couldn't stand the smell." She immediately felt foolish for explaining why she had put it by the tree, and wondered what had driven her to extend her statement more than absolutely necessary. Wanton Flossie noted the feeling in her loins as he continued to stare at her, though, and giggled inside, explaining that. Wanton Flossie wanted him to stay there ... and look.

"OH!" he gasped. His hands went to the front of his pants and covered him there, as if he thought he were in danger. "I'm so sorry!" he almost stuttered. His hands flashed to his eyes, to cover them, and then back to his pants, to cover the erection he had just drawn attention to.

"Don't you leave," she heard herself say. "I'll be out in a minute." She didn't know which of her selves said that, or why, at least not initially. Proper Flossie got control of her other arm, which moved, and gently pushed the door closed in a dignified manner. She held it there, and sagged against it, feeling weak in her knees. His face had showed surprise, and shock, but it had also shown something else. Wanton Flossie had seen appreciation in his eyes ... male appreciation. Wanton Flossie didn't care that those eyes were in a white boy's head. A man lusted after her, and that made Wanton Flossie feel good. She wondered if she was going insane, thinking as two different selves, listening to her two different selves. "You're lonely!" said wanton Flossie. "Why do you think I told him to stay here? You want him to run away like a little boy and never come back?"

She shook her head. She looked down at what Nathan had looked at. Her nipples were painfully erect, and she wanted to squeeze them. Proper Flossie screamed in outrage and just plain Flossie put her shirt on convulsively, to cover those nipples. Frantic now that he might run away, she found her father's old cotton pants and pulled them on, tying the rope she used to keep them on her hips hastily. As soon as they were buttoned she opened the door and stepped out. She realized she was barefoot. He wasn't in the room, and the front door was standing open a foot. Had he run away? It would break her heart if he was so embarrassed that he wouldn’t speak to her again ... avoided her ... wouldn't come to school.

She felt weak again as he came back in the door, the paint can hanging from his hand. His free hand went to his crotch again.

"I'm really sorry," he pleaded. He pushed the door closed behind him.

"It's all right, Nathan," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "It was an accident. I know that old door won't stay closed. I should have put something against it." She felt almost incapacitated by her nervousness. "I hope you won't think badly of me for that."

"No!" he yipped. "I ..."

He was suddenly and loudly interrupted as the door banged open so hard that one hinge popped, and the nails that had held it loosely to the doorframe shot out and sailed across the room. The opening was filled with a dark form.

It was Harvey Wilson.

Harvey had seen Bernadette and Hilda Mae go to Nathan's room after supper. They had been whispering to each other and it had just looked ... wrong somehow.

Then his son had left, to go off and act like trash again, doing manual labor for hire. The girls had sat down in chairs with books, but didn't read. Instead they whispered more and giggled.

Something was going on. He could smell it in the air. On impulse, he stood up.

"Goin' for a walk," he said to Marian.

"What?" she was plainly surprised. Harvey never walked anywhere he didn't absolutely have to.

"I said I'm going for a walk!" he thundered. "Is everybody in this house going to question what I do?"

He looked at the girls. They looked terrified, huddling in their chairs. Good. There needed to be more respect in this house for the lord and master.

He stepped out and saw Nathan's back, a block and a half down the street. He wasn't going in the direction he had so vaguely pointed at supper. Harvey followed.

When he realized where the boy was going, rage threatened to tear him apart. He felt the vein in his head throbbing. He knew whose property that was. He had tried to acquire it too, so he could evict her from there too. If the town fathers were too stupid or lazy to realize what a travesty that school was, he would handle things in other ways. She couldn't teach in the town if she couldn't live there.

But the title to the property was hopelessly tangled. It would take years to puzzle out. And she paid the taxes, so the county didn't care.

He was enraged because his son had lied to him. He was enraged because of who his son was seeking out. He was enraged because he was stuck in this one-horse dump and it didn't look like he'd get back into the good graces of the home office any time soon. Harvey Wilson was a study in rage, and what it will do to a man.

He wasted time looking for a weapon. Anything would do, but he preferred a cudgel or something he could swing. He found nothing, and his rage told him all he'd need was his hands. He saw Nathan come back out of the house, and walk to a tree. The boy's hand was at his crotch, and he looked back over his shoulder, almost fearfully. Then he picked up a paint can, and, after shifting from one foot to the other, went back in.

In that instant all Harvey could think of was that his son had hired on to work for a nigger.

"I knew something was up!" roared Harvey. He stalked forward toward Flossie. Nathan, frozen with shock, stood off to one side, the paint can hanging from his hand.

Flossie recognized the rage in the man. Conditioning she had thought long overcome made her quail, and that made her mad. "Get out of my hou-"

She was screaming the last word when Harvey's right fist came up and hit her a solid blow on her left cheek, right at the corner of her lip. Her lip split and squirted blood. Only because she had seen it coming and leaned away from the blow saved her jaw from being broken, or teeth from being snapped. Her head flipped to the side and she went down on her back. The room dimmed as her rattled brain fought to remain conscious.

"You hired on to do work for a nigger!" screamed Harvey. "My boy ... working for a fucking nigger!" He looked down at the woman lying on the floor, limp. her shirt had flipped up and smooth brown skin was showing above the rope that held her baggy pants on. She didn't even own a fucking belt.

"You know what that means, boy?" he screamed. "Niggers don't hire white men unless they want something from them!" He looked at the smooth brown skin and licked his lips. His voice fell, and took on a more normal tone.

"That means she's a whore, boy, she didn't call you here to paint. She called you here to soil you, to get back at me!"

He reached for his own belt, and unbuckled it.

"I'm gonna teach her a lesson," he said, the leer on his face seeping into his voice. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson too, boy. I'm gonna teach you how to give a whore what she wants."

He reached down and, with both hands, ripped Flossie's shirt apart, baring her naked breasts. In her haste to cover them, she had forgotten the bra. She hadn't tied the knot in the rope well either, tying it in a bow by instinct, rather than the square knot she would have used if she had been thinking more clearly. Harvey's fingers plucked at it and then he grabbed one side of the waistband and jerked with all his strength. Buttons popped and flew, and the bottom of the fly gave way. The leg ripped clear to the knee, exposing her pussy.

"No bra," he panted. "And no panties neither!" His face lit up with glee. "I knew she was a whore!"

Nathan couldn't believe what was happening. The shock of seeing his father appear in an explosion of dust and noise had frozen him. He had been conditioned by his father too. The last time, when he'd struck the man, he'd been in his own rage ... had worked up to doing something he'd never have thought to do otherwise. That rage wasn't in him now. Now he knew why his father was so irate. He was working for a colored woman. He had lied to his parents. All Nathan's sins came back to haunt him in those first few critical seconds, and kept him frozen.

Then, seeing his father hit her with all his strength, and seeing her flop to the floor as if she were dead, convinced him she was dead. That shock made his mind wail and try to find a place to hide. He couldn't think, and he couldn't react.

The horror went on, as the precious vision of what he had seen was marred by the violent re-creation of that vision. The violence of it was beyond his capacity to deal with. He felt like his mind had left his body, and was floating just above his head. He couldn't feel anything ... couldn't move ... couldn't make a sound.

"Git over here, boy," growled his father, looking down at those soft looking round breasts. They looked so firm that they wouldn't give much when he bit them. He'd have to be careful. He didn't want to get any nigger blood in his mouth. "I'm going to show you how to fuck this nigger whore."

Flossie heard the words coming from far, far away. All she could see was stars, and she blinked several times. Her mind was screaming at her about the words. She had to pay attention to the words. She swallowed, her mouth tasting coppery. When she had fallen, she lay in an awkward position, and her tendons were complaining. She felt a burst of pain around her waist, and she was jerked.

The voice ... she had to pay attention to the voice, her mind whispered.

She tried to concentrate, and she heard the words clearly: "Git over here, boy, I'm going to show you how to fuck this nigger whore."

Panic saturated her brain and it gave a primal scream inside her skull. All that came from her throat, though, was a low groan. She tried to move, and her hand flopped at her side. She tried to make her neck muscles work.

"Good," said Harvey, unzipping his pants. "She's coming around. I want her to feel this."

He turned his head and leered at his son, whose face was still white with shock.

"And when I'm done, you're going to fuck her too. That's what she brought you here for, and you're going to fuck this whore like a man!"

Triumph lit up his face, and he looked back at the woman. Her face rolled towards him, and her eyes looked into his.

"Don't you go back to sleep, now," he said, almost softly while leaning down. His hands gripped her breasts and he squeezed hard. The pain caused her lung muscles to draw in breath in a hiss. "I want you to remember this for the rest of your miserable life."

He slapped her face hard enough to cause it to roll and strike the floor. He stood, dropped his pants, and knelt between her thighs, kneeing them wider. The remains of her father's pants restricted the movement of her legs, and Harvey reached to rip them further. He stood up on his knees to push his boxer shorts down, exposing his rampant erection. Then he leaned over and bit her left breast, his upper teeth above the areola, and his lower teeth below it.

Then she was able to scream. She screamed long, and loud.

It was the combination of Flossie's groan, the movement of her hand, and then her head, that pushed through the terror in Nathan's mind and shouted, "She's alive!" It was the combination of all his father's words, the look in his eye as he told Nathan what he'd be required to do, and the way he casually and cruelly squeezed her breasts, that gave him control over his body again. And it was the sight of his fathers erect penis, hanging over Flossie's defenseless pussy that brought on the almost instantaneous rage that exploded in Nathan's head. It was her scream as his father bit her breast that made him move.

He wasn't aware that he took three steps forward, or that his hand, holding the paint can swung it as far back as he could reach without turning his body. He was intimately aware of realizing that he could stop this if he brought that hand forward.

He swung the can.

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