286 lines
13 KiB
Groff
286 lines
13 KiB
Groff
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| *** DISCLAIMER *** |
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| This is a story of pure fiction. Any resemblance to persons |
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| living or dead, incidents real or imagined, places real or |
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| imagined, is purely coincidental. |
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| IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ FURTHER. |
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| No part of this story may be reproduced on any media of any |
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| kind without the written permission of the author. |
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- 4 -
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Even before I rounded the corner I could smell the chlorine. Or
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bromine. Or whatever it is you put into those things. Steven led
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the way. We stopped at a small closet and Steven pulled out a handful
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of small white terrycloth towels. We walked past a little alcove with
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a washer and dryer and then, there we were.
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It was a tiny room with a tightly planked wood deck and benches all
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around. Like a sauna. In the middle sat a large moulded fiberglass
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spa. It looked large enough for at least four people, possibly six.
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The only noise was the hum of a blower and the sound of bubbling
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water. Despite the blower, the humidity was oppressive. I didn't
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know much about houses, but I knew enough to believe that this one was
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doomed if they kept pumping that much moisture into the air down here.
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Steven walked to the far wall and switched on the stereo. Mozart
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streamed into the room from everywhere.
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"Dad..."
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I hadn't even noticed Peter. His head was all that was visible as
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he sat plastered against one side of the spa. The surface of the
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water foamed and bubbled around his head. I imagined a group of head-
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hunters standing behind him, their big sticks stirring the water
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around and around. Steam rose from everywhere and I thought, a few
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carrots, some onions, a little seasoning. Turn up the temperature a
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bit. It was a great scene, the one that floated through my head. It
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was. Natives chanting. A string quartet doing great justice to
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Wolfgang. The smell of dinner cooking in the big pot. And a fitting
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end for an arrogant little bastard. Now, all we needed was a nice
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Zinfandel and...
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"Alan will be staying with us tonight. Peter, you'll stay in my
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room."
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"How come I always..."
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Steven held up his hand to silence his son. Peter thrashed at the
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surface of the water. He glared at me. My popularity here just
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dropped into the single digits. I tried to be the diplomat.
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"Actually, I could sleep on the sofa in the..."
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"No guest of ours is going to sleep on a couch." And that was the
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end of the discussion.
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Peter slid around so that now he was sitting with his back toward
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us. I got the message. Steven placed the pile of towels on one of
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the benches, then started to leave. He turned back and was about to
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say something to Peter. He thought better, I guess. He turned to me.
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"I have an appointment this evening. Would you mind watching the
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kids?"
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I choked. I couldn't refuse his request. Not after all of the
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hospitality I'd been shown. Still, there was Peter. I didn't trust
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him. Zoe. I would stay anywhere with her, anytime. But Peter.
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There was something about him. Mean, vicious, I don't know.
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Something.
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"Sure, I'd be happy to," I managed.
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"Good. Now have a good soak. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
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Then he was gone. I looked toward Peter. He ignored me. I
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thought, what could possibly happen in two hours? Well, let's see.
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Cities have been destroyed and thousands of people killed in a few
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seconds with nuclear weapons. Earthquakes, avalanches, tsunamis,
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deadly bacteria spills, electrocution... I'm in big trouble here.
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-+-
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"I don't have a suit."
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"What?"
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"A suit. I don't have a swimsuit," I said, hoping to make some
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sort of contact with Peter.
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Peter stood up. He was completely naked. No suit. Then he
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returned to the bubbles. No suit. Okay. So I undressed. I placed
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my clothes in a neat pile on one of the benches. I stood on the
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deck. I gazed down at my feet, pale from the long winter. I looked
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at the rest of my aging body. No competition for a healthy 12-year-
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old boy, I thought. Well, perhaps some competition.
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Peter watched me climb into the spa. When I was settled in, he
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looked away. I was up to my neck, so to speak, in a warm, pleasant
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galaxy of soothing water and massaging bubbles. My mind raced. I
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tried to think of something to say to Peter. I tried to remember what
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words I wanted to hear when I was that age. I couldn't remember
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anymore. Maybe sports.
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"How's the soccer going?"
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Peter glared at me. "We haven't one a single game." Then he
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looked away.
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Damn. I forgot. Negative numbers. Now I'm into negative numbers.
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That's okay. If they can work their way back on Jeopardy then so
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can I. "Why do you think?"
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"What?"
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"Your games. Why do you think you're losing all the time?"
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"'Cause they're winning all the time. What do you think?"
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Yep. Couldn't argue with that one. But at lest we're talking. I
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inhaled to speak again but a noise outside the door drew my attention.
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She floated around the corner Zoe. Still in her school dress, her
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hair still tousled from her fight with Peter. She looked disappointed
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to see Peter still in the spa.
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She began with her dress. Slowly, deliberately, she undid each
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button. From her neck to her waist where the buttons ended and the
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skirt part began. One after the other. I looked at Peter. He was
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watching me watch Zoe.
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I steeled myself and said, "Doesn't your skin get wrinkled if you
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stay in too long?"
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He didn't say anything. He just stared at me. I was bigger,
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stronger, smarter, wealthier, and he just cut me in half with that
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look. I didn't like this boy.
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I shifted my position so I could watch Zoe without turning my head
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sideways. She pulled the dress from her shoulders, exposing the most
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beautiful and delicate arms I've ever seen. She looked up at me and
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smiled as the top of the dress fell to her waist. She didn't wear
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a bra. There wasn't much there to hold up. But what was there was
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excruciatingly beautiful. Her breasts, two broad, delicate mounds
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that rose maybe an inch from her chest. On top of each was a shiny
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pink saucer-shaped disk that extended out even further. And in the
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center of each, a little dot of a nipple, now hard from rubbing
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against the rough fabric of her dress.
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Zoe undid the little belt and pushed the dress all the way to the
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floor. It dropped in a heap, dead. She had killed it. The life she
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gave it was gone. But now my eyes gazed on those exquisite legs,
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rising from the deceased fabric. Zoe bent down and scratched her
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ankle, pushing her white sock almost flat against her black shoe. Her
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panties were tiny little things. Not tight. Not baggy. They moved
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with her. As she stood up again, she dragged her hand up her leg,
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over her hip, and stopped at her waist. She slid her fingers under
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the elastic waistband of her panties and pushed them down over her
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legs. One at a time, she removed each foot.
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Zoe stood there, naked except for her shoes and socks. She picked
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up her dress and walked to the wall. There was a hook there and she
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had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach it. The heat from the
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water and the sight of this beautiful young creature stretched out was
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causing me to become lightheaded. I felt I was about to pass out.
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"Are you coming in or not!" yelled Peter. Ah, the breaker of
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bubbles. Peter was better than a cold shower.
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I recovered. Zoe almost had the dress up to the hook. Her leg
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muscles, slender and firm. Her tight little ass with its twin, almost
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spherical cheeks. The creamy color of her perfect skin. If I died
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right now, it all would have been worth it. With a tiny grunt, she
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made it. The dress was safe. Zoe turned. It was the first time I
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had seen her body. Completely. She pranced back to the bench. She
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put one foot on it and began to unlace her shoe. Slowly,
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deliberately, she untied the bow, then the knot. She slipped the shoe
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off and changed legs. She repeated the operation on the other foot.
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Now, only her socks remained. I became conscious that my cock was now
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fully erect and that my hand had been drawn to it.
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Did Zoe know the effect she was having on me? Would she care? She
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crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Oh how I wanted to
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enfold her and keep her warm. She moved the tips of her fingers down
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over her pink nipples, past her smooth tummy, and brought them
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together over the smooth, shiny mound between her legs. She slipped
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a single index finger into her slit for just a second. It seemed to
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be an almost unconscious thing for her to do. The kind of thing a
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child can get away with, but never a grownup. She looked up and
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caught my eyes appreciating her. I guess it's just not possible to
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look without looking. I was losing my sense of timing.
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"C'mon, pebble tits. In or not?"
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Somebody needs to slap this kid in the mouth. Zoe took off one
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sock and threw it at Peter. It landed on his face. Great shot! I
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bet Peter wished he could shoot soccer goals that well. Peter
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immediately grabbed it and threw the now wet sock back at Zoe. It hit
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her in the chest with a resounding slap.
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"Ow!"
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"Ha!" and Peter seemed satisfied. Although you never really knew
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with him, I was beginning to learn.
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The sound of a car's engine starting close by drew all of our
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attentions. Steven was off to his appointment. We were on our own.
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I was on my own. Was Peter about to turn into Mr. Hyde now? I waited
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for something to happen. I held my breath. I looked around.
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Everything was the same as before. I watched as Zoe wound up to throw
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her other sock at Peter. Oh no, I thought, the final provocation.
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But she threw high and the breeze from the blower re-targeted the
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missile. Before I knew it, I had a sock resting on my face. Peter
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laughed as hard as he could.
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"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," cried Zoe. And Peter laughed even harder.
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Thank God, I thought. The ice had been broken. Now to most
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people, the thought of having someone else's smelly sock resting on
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their face is, well, you can imagine. But to me, the scent of any
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part of the child who, only moments ago, wore this, this, ethereal
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glove was the finest perfume. I drank it in. I reached up and drew
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the sock across my face, pressing it against my skin. I looked at
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Peter. Then at Zoe. She had her hands over her mouth. They both
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looked at me for signs of anger. I laughed hard. Then they laughed.
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We all laughed together. I tossed the sock back to Zoe. Peter
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actually smiled at me. We splashed each other. Did he accept me
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now? Why did I care?
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Zoe was now completely naked as she walked to the edge of the spa.
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She braced her hands against the edge and went up on her tiptoes. She
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peered in. My cock was still hard but the bubbles and moving water
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kept it hidden. Zoe dipped her hand into the water, She looked at me
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and smiled.
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"What does it take to get you in?" screeched Peter. "C'mon pebble
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tits."
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"Stop calling me that."
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"Then get in."
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"I'm getting. I'm getting."
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And Zoe lifted her leg gracefully over the edge of the spa and
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pierced the surface of the water with her toe. I followed that
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beautiful leg as it slowly disappeared beneath the surface. As her
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leg went in, Zoe turned her body toward me. Her legs were spread
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apart as she prepared to swing her other leg over the edge. The
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slit in her tiny mound opened wide giving me a priceless view of her
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precious little cunt. Could she possibly know what she was doing to
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me?
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Zoe now stood in the middle of the spa. The water came up to a
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spot midway between her knees and her crotch and swirled all around
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her. She looked at Peter, then at me. I think she was trying to
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pick a place to sit down. Suddenly, Peter reached up and pulled her
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down and toward him. Zoe lost her balance and splashed into the
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water. Her legs went up into the air and her head went under. I was
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about to reach out and rescue her when she bobbed to the surface.
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She hit the water where Peter was, I suspect in hopes of hitting him.
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Peter just laughed. Zoe wiggled away from his grip and found a seat
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between us. For a moment, everything and everyone was calm.
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"Quit it!" shouted Zoe. She glared at Peter.
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"What?"
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"Just quit it!"
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I could see Peter and he must be reaching out to Zoe under the
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water. I could see that she was pushing his hand away over and over
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again. He was relentless. With that much persistence, I can't
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understand why his soccer team hasn't won any games.
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I decided to try to help the situation. "Anybody know any good
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songs?" The way they both looked at me. I felt like an unwanted
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substitute teacher at the start of a school day. I'm losing ground
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here.
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* * *
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------------------------- (End of Chapter 4) -------------------------
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------------ (Comments, pro or con, are always welcome) --------------
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