Double Time
Chapter 51
“I’m just a Teenager with hormones running wild and may I say, young fairy lady, they’re running wild in your direction.”
—Eoin Colfer, The Atlantis Complex
I WAS UP AT FIVE and Nanette pulled to a stop long enough for me to jump in her car and we headed for the golf course. Sections of the course had cart paths, but they mostly led between one green and the next hole. Those were routes everyone took. Getting up and down the fairway took people all over. But there was a path on each side of the fairway that was groomed and the carts were supposed to use it. The key thing was that we could run on the whole trail at five-thirty in the morning. We were running in half-light. Sunrise wasn’t until six-thirty on August first and that’s when the first golfers would hit the links.
I was surprised this morning that Nanette didn’t take off at her usual pace and leave me to my own pace. The trail was wide enough for a golf cart, which meant it was wide enough for us to run next to each other. She didn’t seem to be in any great hurry, though we might have been going a little faster than normal pace. For me. And we just kept going until we’d clocked a full hour before walking toward the clubhouse to cool down.
“Let’s stretch. I want to find out how your muscles are developing,” she said when we reached a grassy spot near the parking lot. The grass was damp with dew but we were soaked with sweat, so that didn’t make much difference to us. She had me hold her leg straight and press it back as she lifted it. Just usual running stretches.
Only there was something unusual about it. Nanette’s normal running wear was like Em’s—Spandex that clung to her every curve and made it such a joy to run behind her. Only the shorts Nanette wore this time were similar to mine and were what V1 thought of as gym shorts with a loose-fitting leg. These were from Nike, which I knew because there was a logo just at the hem of the shorts that I looked down at when I lifted her leg.
Fuck! Nice view! I mean, it wasn’t as if I could see up the leg hole to her pussy or anything. That part of the fabric stretched tightly over her cleft, but the back of her leg was bare all the way to her butt ledge. We held the stretch for a count of ten, three times before switching legs. Then we switched positions and she lifted my leg. Other parts of me had risen as well and I was sure she was aware of them as she looked down my leg. And it didn’t get better. She was especially interested in my right leg to see how my muscle had filled out since my accident. She felt all up and down it and then compared it to my left leg. She had to shift over a bit and slipped on the wet grass.
Nanette didn’t exactly fall on top of me. Quite. She released my leg when she lost her balance and I dropped it to the ground suddenly. That served to shift both of our bodies and increase her forward momentum. We both acted instinctively and she put her hands down to catch her weight beside me while I put my hands up to keep her from falling on top of me. I caught her in a three-point landing. My hands were on her boobs and my cock poked at her pussy.
And we froze there. Her eyes locked on mine and she didn’t scramble to get away from the embarrassing position. There wasn’t much I could do as I was supporting her weight in my hands. She ran in a sports bra top and the modest mounds it contained felt soft and very squishy. She shifted a little and my cock rubbed against her crotch. Finally, she pushed away with her hands and just before I lost contact, I gave her boobs a little squeeze.
Hell. I’m fifteen and I have a tit in each hand. What else am I going to do?
“Well, that was… interesting,” she said as she regained her balance and gave my leg a little pat. She stood and offered me her hand so I could pull myself up. Not that I couldn’t have done that myself, but it was a nice gesture and told me more than words could have that she wasn’t upset. “You’re a good-looking guy, Jacob. And good company. If there was just a little less age-gap, I’d want to do some exploring with you. For now, though… well, better just enjoy what we have.”
I didn’t usually shower between my five-thirty run and my nine o’clock CC practice. What’s the point? I did this morning. I replayed that little slip and the feel of her breasts in my hands and her soft center pressing against my prick. My prick seemed to enjoy it a lot.
Riley and Desi picked me up at five that evening to go to dinner. I was going over to their house afterward to try on the adjusted costumes and make plans for our Labor Day weekend in Indianapolis. Riley met with my parents and explained the program to them. I was surprised they agreed. He was going to pick Desi and me up from school on Friday before Labor Day and drive us to Indy. We’d perform and model costumes all day Saturday and Sunday. He’d drive us back on Monday. I was going to be with Desi in Indy for three nights.
Of course, we wouldn’t be together three nights. Riley made it clear that I would have the room next door to their family and would be supervised. Mom wanted to help pay for my adventure, but Riley insisted that I was volunteering to help model costumes and the room and board were his responsibility. He said having me working with Desi meant that he and Riko were free to sell more costumes and not worry about Desi being alone on the show floor. Whatever. I’d be spending three days in Indianapolis with the Whitcombs.
After dinner, we went to their house and Desi led me to the basement.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Riley said. “I have paperwork to take care of before Desi and I leave for the Ren Faire in Kentucky. Riko has been reminding me daily that I’m not there to help her set up our shop and she plans to find a wandering knight and reward him for his help by bestowing her womanly favors.” He laughed and I wondered how the heck he managed to live this life.
The idea of a Renaissance Faire in Kentucky boggled my mind. It was held someplace between Louisville and Lexington and I had visions of Shakespeare recited with a Kentucky accent. I guess culture has no bounds.
“Your mom and dad sure seem to be casual about allowing us… um… uninterrupted time together,” I said as Desi started stripping out of her clothes. It wasn’t like we had a bed or comfortable place where we could screw but they knew we helped each other in and out of our costumes and they had to know that Desi rewarded her wandering knight with her womanly favors. Didn’t they?
“Yeah. Probably looks strange to an outsider. And don’t think it’s because they don’t care. They do, but we have an understanding.”
“Tell me about it,” I gasped as she stroked my cock. I wondered if we even had any costumes to try on tonight.
“Mom and Dad are theater people. They grew up in a theater tradition. My grandparents on both sides met while performing off-Broadway shows that never made it big. But theater is a little more casual about issues of modesty. They are very protective of my modesty when it comes to anyone older, but they figure peers are different. And they know about our contract.”
Before I could react to my shock, Desi swallowed my cock and held it in her mouth until I filled it. I collapsed back into a chair and Desi immediately straddled my lap facing me. We kissed deeply as she ground her panty-clad pussy against my bare cock. I moved my face down and captured one of her nipples between my teeth and she began to whine as moisture seeped through her silk panties and slicked my cock. Desi had a strict rule about nothing but her own hand going inside her panties, but she didn’t seem to mind the help I was giving her movements by holding both her butt cheeks in my hands and rocking her back and forth.
“Oh, God!” I moaned as my second load of the evening began spurting between our bodies.
“Yesss,” she hissed. “So easy. It would be so easy to do it now.” She pushed away and stood up, looking down at her soaked panties and the mess on our stomachs. She looked at me intently and hooked her thumbs in the waist of her panties. Slowly, she worked them down, exposing a wedge of pubic hair and then her bare slit. It was shiny with her juices. “I’m still a virgin and intact,” she said. “I’m going to collect your bid after we both turn sixteen. Just thought you’d like to see what you bid on. Believe me; I’ll make it worth your two weeks of servitude.”
She pulled her panties back up and bent to kiss me again as I fondled her big breasts. Then we got dressed and went to find her father.
“We’re ready, Daddy,” she said. “Everything will fit fine.”
We hadn’t tried on any costumes, so I thought she might be talking about how we’d fit together.
August second was Pey’s birthday and she and Mom were going to Indianapolis for a girls’ bonding.
“You’re on your own today,” Mom said as they loaded in the car after my cross country practice. “Dad plans to go bowling this evening. I don’t know when we’ll be back. We’ll have the family celebration tomorrow morning.”
“That’s cool. I’ll probably hang out with Rachel this evening. Seems like we don’t see much of each other since summer school got out.”
“Act responsibly,” Mom said. Then she and Pey drove off. I called Rachel.
“Hey, sweetums,” she said when she answered the phone. “What’s up?”
“Um… well, I’m home alone for the day. Didn’t know if you had anything going on or not. Want to get together?”
“Really? What a coincidence. Dad and Richard are on a father-son camping adventure this weekend with the Scouts. I’m home all alone, too. Want to come over? We could get together.”
“Rache, any time I spend with you is time I treasure, no matter how we get together.”
“You say the sweetest things. Be here in half an hour.”
I showered and walked briskly to Rachel’s house. She opened the door wearing a fluffy bathrobe. Her hair was still damp from her own shower.
“I could have gotten here more quickly and we could have showered together,” I said as we kissed.
“I wanted to be fresh and clean when you got here. We’ll have another shower after we get all sweaty again,” she laughed. She pulled me by the hand to her bedroom. It was in typical disarray—not really dirty or anything, but looking just a little chaotic. We flopped on her bed and started kissing again.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of kissing you,” I sighed. Her robe fell open to reveal that was all she’d slipped on after her shower. She tugged at my T-shirt and we got it off with only a slight break in our kissing.
“I hope that’s true because I can’t cook.” We laughed and she nudged my shorts off, getting them past my feet by the expedient of hooking the waistband with her own foot and pushing. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her robe and we pressed our naked bodies together. “I love you, Jacob.”
“I love you so much, Rachel. I want to spend my life with you.”
“Make sure it’s a long one, please.”
“Yeah.” We kissed some more and petted each other. We weren’t rushing toward penetration, but we were definitely building up.
“You know that I’m probably as pretty as I’ll ever be?” she whispered. “I know girls who want to wait until they are more mature or more adult, but the things that change will take away the innocence and excitement of these little times we have together. I want to know that my body found all the excitement of growing up in every way and that when I’m old and fat and wrinkled, you’ll still remember me as a tight, pretty sixteen-year-old. I am tight, Jacob. Feel me.”
I felt her with the head of my cock as I pressed into her. Yes, tight but not uncomfortably so. I wasn’t fucking a woman who was too small and immature to accept me into her. She opened to me and pulled at me. Yes, she was beautiful and young, but no matter how old we got and how our bodies changed, I would think of her as this unbelievable sixteen-year-old I was making love to. And we weren’t impatient to discover everything possible. We were content to just make love with my cock sliding in and out of her vagina. Enjoying every second of being joined together. Francie had tried to work all the way through the Kama Sutra in just four months. Rachel and I were content to discover some small new thing each time we were together. There would be time for mindless fucking later. Maybe when we were with one of our girlfriends. But what I wanted more than anything was simply to be held in her arms while we were joined and making love.
“So how about going skating tonight,” I asked. I’d seen her roller skates the first time she brought me to her room but we’d never gone out skating together.
“You don’t want to just lie here naked and make love to me some more?” she asked impishly.
“I do want to make love with you some more. But I want to do lots of things with you and not feel like making love is all we do. Rachel, I love you and I want to share all of my life with you. I want you to share all of yours with me.”
“Does that mean you are going to tell me your deepest secrets?”
“I… um… already told you about my nightmares. And about making love with my sister.”
“Jacob… You don’t have to tell me but don’t pretend it doesn’t exist. Something else is lurking beneath the calm exterior of the boy I love. You have from now until we get married to tell me. And I promise I will be just as open with you.”
“You mean I don’t have to tell you after we get married?”
“No. I mean we will never get married until there are no secrets between us.”
“I promise, Rachel. Please, just let me figure out how to tell you without you thinking I’m crazy. All I can say right now is that I’m not dangerous and my secret is not a betrayal of you or anyone else. It’s entirely me dealing with who I am.”
“I love you, Jacob. We have time and I promise I won’t run away from you.”
Pey’s birthday celebration Saturday morning started with me making her favorite blueberry pancakes and bacon after my run. The sleepy girl came into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and still groggy from her big day shopping yesterday. I flipped a pancake onto her plate, stuck a candle in it, and started softly singing ‘Happy Birthday.’
“Thank you, J.”
“You still look all tuckered out, nine-year-old. You need to spend your birthday in bed?” I laughed, tickling her a little. She squirmed and blew a raspberry at me.
“You’re always happy in the morning when you see Rachel the night before.”
“That’s true, sweetie. Rachel makes me happy.”
“As happy as Em?”
I pulled up a chair opposite her and dug into my own short stack of pancakes.
“I miss Em every day, Pey. No one can ever take her place. But loving one person doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else at the same time. Why don’t we find out what Em has to say about it?”
“How? We can’t call her.”
“Ah, but she is smarter than the average sister,” I laughed. I was pretty sure Pey had no idea who Yogi Bear was. I thumbed my phone and tapped the message Em left for Pey last Sunday.
“…happy birthday to you,” she sang through the tiny speaker. “I miss you, Pey. My roommate at basic is nowhere near as nice as you. None of them are. I’m stuck in a room with nine other girls and I think some of them never shut up. You know what, though? When I plop down in my bunk, I close my eyes and reach out my hand. I can feel you take it on one side and I can feel J on the other. And I know that we are still together. Don’t let me being away stop you from having fun with your friends. And don’t worry about J with his. There’s enough love in our little family to include a lot more people. I love you, little sister. Happy birthday!”
“J, can I have it?” she asked. I figured out that she meant the message.
“I’ll forward it to you,” I said. “It’s pretty nice to have a big sister who thinks about us all the time, isn’t it?”
“I really miss her but I’m glad I have you. And I’m glad you have Rachel. And Joan. And Desi. And Beca. And Brittany. Geez, J. How many girlfriends are you going to have?”
“I’m done collecting. I just need to convince them of that. Speaking of which, we should have another dance lesson with your boyfriend soon.”
“Richard isn’t my boyfriend. He’s old. I’m going to fix him up with Brittany’s sister Joyce. That’s why he needs to learn to dance. She will be eleven next month. They’ll be in the same grade. I already told him.”
“And what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Wait for you to get a girlfriend who has a brother my age, silly. I’ll tell Beca when she gets home.”
“It’s just another week till she gets here. I’ve sure missed her.”
“Yeah. Your girlfriends don’t do things together as much without her.”
In addition to the breakfast, we had a little party for Pey at lunch and I was happy to see that she’d invited Richard and Joyce, even though most of the kids were a couple of years younger. I helped Mom and mostly tried to stay out of the way of the younger kids. Of course, right in the middle of eating birthday cake, Dad stuck out his phone to record Pey’s birthday statement.
“There are a lot of things that make it hard for people who love each other to be together,” Pey said. “I’m nine years old and miss my sister. So one day, I’m going to change the world so people can be together with the ones they love.”
After the party things had been cleared away, Joan came to pick me up. We made our way into the movie theater and settled into a backrow seat. The movie, Artemis Fowl, was rated PG, so there were a lot of kids in the theater.
“I loved the series of books. It’s hard to believe they started coming out before we were born,” Joan said as she settled next to me and lifted the armrest between our seats so we could get closer. “Do you mind if we mostly watch the movie?” she asked. Before I could respond, she kissed me so long and tenderly that the previews had started before our lips parted. “Mostly.”
“Yeah. Mostly,” I agreed.
And it was a pretty good movie. Maybe not quite as big a splash as I remembered Harry Potter making, but Artemis is a kind of anti-hero in juvenile literature. He’s a twelve-year-old criminal genius who raids the fairy world to kidnap a Lower Elements Police (LEP) officer until he gets help saving his father from the Goblin Gang in the Arctic. Okay. I was relating to teen fiction a lot better these days than I had as an eighty-year-old. In fact, I thought of it as a major adjustment to my new life. V1 had lost his youth in more ways than one. Even the nostalgic thought of returning to his fourteen-year-old body had been so he could be young and old at the same time. But ‘kids these days’ had more fun than V1 remembered having as a teen. If I kept him quiet and listened to my girlfriends, I had fun, too. I just had to shut up the voice in the back of my head that said, “Well, that’s a special kind of stupid.”
A kiss on my ear with a little tongue lick sent chills down my spine and I turned to kiss Joan again, lingering until something happened on screen that got our attention again. We giggled at an inappropriate moment in the action and sank down in our seats a little so as not to attract attention. We held hands, stole little kisses, and enjoyed the movie.
“It’s Saturday night. Mom’s on a date and won’t be home till long after I need to get you home. So, make love to me, Jacob,” Joan said as she led me to her bedroom. I was happy to oblige, starting to strip her as we kissed and she loosened my belt.
It was such a different date than so many had been with Joan. I thought that perhaps her summer in Chicago had changed her somewhat. She seemed calmer and more mature. Previous dates had all seemed like foreplay, driving toward orgasm as quickly as possible. Yes, we were going to get there again tonight, but the frantic pace was missing. It was nice.
“I love to make love to you,” I whispered in her ear as we lay naked on her bed. “You’re so fresh and innocent. And lovely. Did I mention how pretty and sexy you are?”
“You’re silly, Jacob. When we met, you thought I was a filthy slut who slept with every guy she went out with. Innocent? I’ve probably given more blowjobs than all your girlfriends combined.”
“Joan, don’t treat yourself like I mistakenly treated you. I have a rare form of stupidity that manifests itself by acting like a judgmental grandfather instead of your teen lover. I don’t think there’s a cure for it, but being with you treats the symptoms.”
“God! You sounded almost like a grandfather,” she laughed. “So, be with me, Jacob. Love me. And help me.”
“What do you need help with?”
“How do I make love to Beca? Will she still want me when she gets home? What is it about her that makes me want to do whatever she wants? Why do I want to make love to you and feel your cock sliding in and out of my vagina and still have images of kissing Beca and caressing her little breasts? Why do I imagine myself kissing down her body to put my tongue on her clit and bring her pleasure? Push into me again, Jacob. Suck on me. Fill me with your cock and make me come. Then tell me; how do we make love to Beca?”
We didn’t complete that conversation right then. When I lowered my lips to her breasts and began tonguing her nipples as I plunged into her hot tunnel, we both lost our ability to think rationally as we focused on bringing each other to climax. This was a subject we would return to, though. Often.
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