Several more seconds of wanton massaging of the slick nub at the top of her cunt, and she spasmed violently!
Once again, a warm trickle of salty liquids spilled over her fingers, and this time the flow was so deeply vaginal that some of the juice ran down the side of her thighs!
When she had recovered from the titillating climax, she looked again into the room down below her-and was disappointed to see that the boy had risen from his crouching position between the girl's legs. All she could see now was the wet, yawning slit at the center of the girl's thighs. It looked open and wet, like two pieces of dark, reddish slabs of liver which had been not quite pushed together.
The boy was standing in front of her, and Pam felt another strange feeling as she saw the front of the boy's pants.
There was a huge bulge there!
She watched, breathing harder than ever as the boy started to unbutton his pants.
And then her heart pounded with disappointment when the boy walked over to the window and pulled down the shade!
Pam found herself still kneeling in front of her own window, her knees aching from the strain of the prayerlike position, her pussy still dripping wetly from her masturbation.
She had the feeling she had missed the best part.
She knew she would have given anything to have seen what was happening right this minute behind the drawn shade.
It was what Betsy had slurringly called 'fucking'!
The boy was fucking the girl down there right this minute!
Pam was still trying to imagine exactly how they were doing it when her mother tapped lightly on her bedroom door.
"Pam? Open up, please!"
Blinking almost blindly, her face still suffused with a dark, brazen glow, Pam struggled back into her panties and pulled her dress back down as she managed to get to the door.
When she opened it, her mother gave her a slow, curious glance.
"Why on earth did you lock yourself in for, dear?"
"I, uh, I didn't think I had, Mom. Sorry."
Her mother put one hand up to her daughter's brow, testing her forehead in the clinical way all mothers do.
"I could swear you look feverish," her room said, casually.
"I feel fine, mother. Really."
Finally, her mother pulled her hand away. "Well, I've been thinking, Pam. I've decided your father was right. The world is in such an awful mess that if we can't be decent neighbors, then how can we expect things to improve anywhere. Do you think you might like to meet the new family that moved in next door?"
Pam wondered if she could keep the quaver out of her voice.
"Y-yes, Mom. I think I would."
"Then I'll make a plate of cookies this afternoon, and you can take them over. You might as well be the first to welcome them to the new neighborhood."
"I'd like that," Pam breathed.
CHAPTER TWO
When her dad got home for lunch, he looked weary from having sat at his office desk doing that catch-up work.
"I don't mind if we don't go riding, Daddy," Pam crooned, sitting on the deeply cushioned chair which was her father's favorite, and swinging her legs almost happily.
She was wearing her favorite cut-offs and a thin blouse.
Her dad stood looking down at her, pipe in mouth, magazine in hand. Then he smiled. "Your mother told me that she had decided to call a truce with the new folks next door. You, uh, think you ought to go over there dressed like that?"
Pam grinned. "I always dress this way on Saturdays, Daddy. We don't want to make them think we're stuffy!"
He smiled, and she made way for him as he sank into the big chair himself.
Pam perched on the arm of the chair and draped one hand around her father's strong shoulder. She was sitting high enough above him that she could look down between his legs, without his being aware of it.
It was the first time Pam had ever even thought about staring at a male the way she did now – especially her own father! – but she had to see if he was showing anything down there. And he was.
He was showing quite a bit, in fact.
To her surprise and consternation, Pam felt that same crawly itch coming back into her spicy little cunt.
It was shameless of her to sit there cruising her dad's crotch as if he were some high school boy and she were Betsy Meeker!
Her dad glanced up quickly, almost catching her staring like a little whore at the adequate outline of his penis. Pam colored at the cheeks and gave her father a jerky smile.
"You might invite Mr. Pauley and his children over tomorrow night for some ice cream," her dad said, casually. "I promised your mother I'd make some hand-freezer cherry. We might as well get to know the Pauleys, eh?"
"Okay, Daddy."
He patted the upper part of her leg once or twice, then went back to his magazine.
Pam could feel the imprint of her father's hand stinging on her flesh as if he had pinched her instead of patting her. Then she swung off the chair and went into the kitchen.
Her mother had just piled a plate high with some of her favorite homemade cookies. The aroma filled the kitchen with the savory promise of very good eating, indeed.
"Pam? Are you going to prance over there in those awful cut-offs?" her mother asked.
"Oh, mother. I just went through all this with Daddy. He said I looked fine."
Apparently the small lie satisfied her mom, because she handed her the big plate of cookies without a word. But when Pam was leaving the kitchen, her mother couldn't resist one last remark.
"See if you can find out what Mr. Pauley does for a living, Pam. From the looks of the tacky furniture I saw them moving into the house yesterday, he can't be exactly wealthy."
Pam nodded, then skipped out of the house to make her first visit.
It was only a short distance from the front door of their house to the front door of the Pauley home, but even in that brief journey Pam's heart managed to work itself up into a steady beat. And she just hoped that when she faced the boy she had seen doing such wicked things to what had to be his own sister, that she wouldn't blush like a little nitwit in pigtails!
She knocked on the door, holding the plate of cookies up like an offering.
Mr. Pauley opened the door, and it was the first time Pam had seen him. He was a very tall man with broad shoulders and a slender waist. In fact, he was a bit lanky, reminding her of the pictures she had seen of Lincoln. But his face was much more handsome under the thick curls of crow-black hair. The only disturbing thing about his face was the almost coarse way his lips turned back when he saw her, giving her a grin that cut deep dimples into his strong jaws.
"Hi, little lady," he said, huskily.
Pam smiled back at the tall man. "I'm Pam Harper, from next door. Mom thought you might like some cookies."
He held the door open for her, and she literally ducked under his arm and into the house.
When she turned back to him, she caught the grown man staring briefly at her legs. But he jerked his dark eyes up as she handed him the plate of cookies.
He lifted the napkin and sniffed at the pile of goodies. Then he winked at Pam, and said, "I'll bet there's some mighty good eating here. Thanks."
Pam stood with her hands behind her back as the man put down the cookies and took a few steps beyond her to the bottom of the stairs.
"Hey, Bo! Come on down here and meet your new neighbor!"
After calling for his son, the man turned back and stuck out his large, rough hand. "I'm Hank Pauley, and Bo is my boy. Sorry that my girl Mae ain't here, but she's gone out to do some shopping for the food we need. I was just gonna go pick her up at the store."