textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/breeze.3

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|                    *** DISCLAIMER ***                         |
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| This is a story of pure fiction.  Any resemblance to persons  |
| living or dead, incidents real or imagined, places real or    |
| imagined, is purely coincidental.                             |
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|         IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ FURTHER.             |
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                             - 3 -


   The coffee was... okay.  Just okay.  The world's coffee makers had
nothing to fear from Steven.  But it was hot and the fire was getting
down to business and the smoke had indeed cleared from the room.  I
hadn't even noticed.  And Zoe was... gone.  She was here a moment ago.
I remember.  She had swung her legs around when Steven came in with
the tray.  I turned to add some cream.  And she was gone.  Some papers 
blew onto the floor as the breeze from her departure drifted across
the coffee table.

   The toilet flushed and the water from Peter's shower started and
stopped and then it was just the crackling fire.

   "I used to do only black and white," as Steven broke the silence.
"But with modern equipment, color is nearly as inexpensive."

   And Zoe pranced in.  She had a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in
one hand.  Instead of just taking bites, she would lick part of it
first to get it a little soft.  Then she would eat only that spot.
She repeated the process over and over again.  It was strangely
exciting to watch that little pink thing dart in and out of her mouth
and all over the cookie.  Lucky cookie.

   Steven hardly noticed.  "I can correct the color with this box I
have connected to my computer.  I don't know how it works, but it
works."

   Zoe twirled and flared her skirt.  She stopped and looked at me,
did her cookie thing, then twirled again.  An impromptu game for my
amusement perhaps.  She repeated the process over and over, each time
checking for my reaction.

   Steven poured himself more coffee.  "Pretty soon we'll just have to
toss the undeveloped film into a slot and pictures will come out the
other end.  Pretty slick, huh?"

   I was conscious of nodding.  I think.  Zoe had put her foot on the
coffee table and pulled her dress up and started to lick her knee the
same way she did when I first saw her at the mall.  Except this time,
she watched me.  Was she looking for astonishment?  Was she looking
for my approval.  She certainly didn't need that.  Anything she did
was all right with me.  Anything.

   "Would you like to see my darkroom," Steven said?

   "Umm...  Sure.  Yes.  Fine.  I'll just finish my coffee here."  And
I started sipping as slowly as I could.  I could see Zoe and see the
bud of a smile forming.  She kissed her knee as if it was the face of
a passionate lover.  I daydreamed my mouth to that spot.  Could she
tell?  Little brown chocolate marks played hide-and-seek on either
side of her mouth.  Oh, how I wanted to lick them pink again.

   Suddenly, the padding of anxious bare feet on wooden stairs broke
the magic.  Peter, fresh from his shower, came bounding in.  It was
hard to tell before, but under all that soccer garb and dirt was a
thin, handsome 12-year-old boy.  His legs sported several small
bruises, the visible results of a so far unsuccessful soccer season.
All he wore was a pair of light blue Jockey briefs.  And a frown.

   He pushed Zoe's leg off the table.  "I thought you were coming up."

   "You thought wrong.  I told you, I didn't want to now."

   "Uh uh.  You said that then.  This is later."

   "Well, I don't want to later, okay?"

   "Not okay.  C'mon.  I want to."

   I looked at Steven to see at what point he was going to intervene.
Apparently he had no intention of doing anything.  I was about to say
something when Peter pushed Zoe hard.

   "I said no!"  There was not a hint of doubt in her voice.

   "And I say, yes."

   I knew this was trouble, but I was a stranger.  A guest.  I was
basically neutral.  Powerless, at best.  All I could do was watch as
Peter pushed Zoe around the living room, all the while trying to
steer her down the hall toward the stairs and his room.  She just
wasn't going to let him get the better of her.  But Peter was strong.
Thin, yes, but strong.  Strong from playing soccer.

   Peter was used to pushing and being pushed.  He grabbed Zoe's arms   
from behind her and forced her to bend over.  "You give?"

   "Never," as she backed into Peter and pushed him against the wall.
Possibly not the best thing to do under the circumstances.  Peter
winced from the impact and let go of Zoe's arms.  Zoe recovered and
started to run off but Peter was too quick.  He stuck his foot out and
tripped her.  Zoe crashed to the floor.  Her dress flew up and Peter
was on top of her in a flash.  Zoe sprawled out on her stomach.  Peter
pinned her arms to the rug while he moved his body against hers. His
small but well-formed ass moved up and down rhythmically as he pushed
hard against Zoe's tiny bottom.  She struggled to get out from under
him but he was just too powerful.

   I looked at Steven, but he just sat there sipping his coffee.  Was
this just a typical family afternoon at the Swift home?  I looked at
Zoe and Peter on the floor.  I was worried about her.  Peter was
crazy.  Was I really that horny when I was his age?  Zoe's face was
turned toward me and I could see that it was all wet from tears.  She
looked at me.  Did she want me to help her?  She looked away.  She
knew I was powerless here.

   Meanwhile, Peter had been trying to pull down his Jockeys.  They
were nearly off but they were hung up on his hard cock.  He turned
to one side, letting go of Zoe's arms for just a moment.  It was long
enough.  Already off balance, it was nothing for Zoe to flip Peter
off her and onto his back.  He hit hard and Zoe stood up.  She took
one step but then Peter grabbed her ankle.  He clawed his way up her
leg until he could stand.  He put his arm around her neck and bent her
over in a headlock.

   I looked at Steven again, expecting him to do something now.  But
still he was silent, accepting.

   Peter dragged Zoe into the middle of the room.  "Had enough
yet?"

   "I'm not doing it!"

   "You don't have a choice anymore, pebble tits.  Hear me, pebble
tits?"

   "Yes I do!"  And she started pounding on Peter's back and sides.
This made Peter angry.  He pulled Zoe down to the floor.  Now she was
on her back and Peter was on top of her.  She continued to fight him.
She started to roll over but Peter caught her leg.  He slid his hand
all the way up under her dress, then rolled her onto her stomach.  Zoe
reached way out and grabbed the leg of the sofa.  She tried to pull
away, but Peter lay across her back.  I could see his hand working
beneath her dress.  He was palming and squeezing her.  He pulled her
dress up over her head.  I could see his hand had made its way into
her panties.  Peter's hand moved back and forth and there was no doubt
he was fingering her hard.

   Once again, Zoe was able to slip away and, once again, Peter caught
her ankle.  She tried to kick him with her free foot, but he grabbed
that one and twisted her onto her back again.  He pulled her toward
him, bunching up the rug under her.  Now he yanked her dress all the
way up and straddled her, pinning her arms with his legs.

   "That's enough!" screamed Steven.

    Finally, I thought.  What was it going to take?  But I had to
force myself to remember, they're kids, just kids.
   
   "He's not doing it."

   "Peter, get off your cousin.  Get off Zoe."  He didn't budge.
"Didn't you hear me?  Now!"

   An imaged flashed across my consciousness.  I remembered the
photograph.  The one at the mall with Peter on top of the girl.  Zoe.
My Zoe.

   "Now, dammit!"

   "All right, all right!" yelled Peter as he rolled to one side.  He
stood up and straghtened his Jockeys.  His face was flushed and I
couldn't help but notice the substantial bulge under his briefs.  "I'm
gonna soak."  And with that, he stomped out.

   I turned to Steven.  "Soak?"

   "We have a spa.  A hot tub.  In the basement.  It's one of those
fiberglass things.  It's great for..."  And he turned to look where
Peter had disappeared.  "...relaxation.  I'll make sure he's okay."
And he hurried after Peter.

   Make sure he's okay!  What about...?  I turned to Zoe.  She was
already sitting up, crossleged.  She straightened her dress, carefully
delicately, like she was arranging a doll's clothes.  She smoothed out
the fabric.  She picked up the hem and pulled it over her knees.  She
rubbed her shoulder where she had landed on the floor.  She winced.
I wanted to rub it for her.  I wanted to kiss the hurt away.  I closed
my eyes and wished away the pain, the indignity.

   When at last I opened them, Zoe was looking up at me.  Her face
was still shiny from the tears.  Her lips were parted slightly.  Her
face was so sad.  She stretched out one of her slender legs.  Now she
stroked the smooth skin, all the while staring into my eyes.  What was
she telling me?  She looked down at her leg.  She twisted it, first
one way, then the other.  Her white sock was mashed down against her
shoe.  She bent her leg and reached down to her sock.  She pulled at
it halfheartedly, then let it go.  She slid her palm along her leg,
and when it reached her knee, she bent her leg and rested her chin on
that precious knee.  Her dress had slid down her leg, giving me a view
of the warm creamy skin that my fingers had trembled across only a
short while ago.

   Zoe turned her head and rested her ear on her knee.  A tear rolled
down her cheek.  She sniffled and looked like she was about to burst
into tears.  But, amazingly, she regained her composure.  She sighed
deeply then turned her head toward me.  Her head came up and she
looked deep into my eyes and said, "Please stay here tonight."

                            *  *  *

------------------------- (End of Chapter 3) -------------------------
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