Where they stopped for lunch was a wooded area that gave welcome shade from the sun. They leaned the bikes against the trees, and where they stopped they could hear the sound of running water.
"It's a brook," Mack explained. "Sometimes there's even fish in there. Do you like to fish?" he asked Laura. For some reason, Mack had been paying Laura a great deal of attention since they stopped, and Pete seemed to have gravitated toward Janie.
"Yes," said Laura, remembering that she once had liked fishing and so probably would again some day. The only fishing she felt like doing right now though, was for Pete DePow, and there he was with her best friend, Janie Farragut, not doing anything terribly suspicious, but paying a little more attention to the dark haired girl than to the blond.
"Hey, did you ever think of taking out your pigtails?" Mack asked her suddenly. They weren't eating yet. It was far too early, but they had decided to cool off with some of the punch Mack had brought in a gallon thermos.
"This punch is good," she said before answering his question about her hair. "The trouble with cranberry flavor is, though, it makes you drink more, I think."
"That's why I brought a whole gallon," Mack said, filling her paper cup again without being asked. "Let's take out your pigtails."
"Why?" she asked. Janie's hair was short enough to wear loose. "It's too hot."
"Is your hair long?" Mack asked. He had never in all their lives paid so much attention to her, not even when he was on her team and she scored well.
"It sure is," she assured him. "Too long."
"A girl's hair can never be too long," he assured her, reaching for one of the braided plaits.
At one time, Laura would have instantly retorted that she did not notice he was wearing his hair that long. She would have asked why a girl's hair had to be any longer than a boy's. But she was now beginning to feel a reason even if she could not yet express what that reason was in so many words. She felt Mack removing the elastic, and she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Her hair was very long, because her mother didn't want to have it cut. For the first time in years, she was feeling grateful in some inexplicable way for that long hair and her mother's strength of will. She knew that the length of it would impress the boys, and impressing them had become important.
Now she felt Mack's finger drawing the strands apart, combing through it. He undid the other braid, too. Then he took his own comb out of his hip pocket and proceeded to comb it, the entire length. He didn't say much but kept combing and combing. It felt so good, that she watched the trees silently and let him comb. From time to time, he refilled her glass with the sweet cranberry-tasting punch, and she found herself growing giddy, wanting to float away, and not knowing at all what gave her such sublime feelings.
By the time Mack kissed her, Laura was floating on such a pleasant euphoric cloud, that she didn't even realize how it got started. But she was aware now that there had been something alcoholic in the punch and that she was drunk! Gosh, it felt very good to be drunk. Why hadn't she ever gotten drunk before? It was at that point in her questioning that she felt strong hands pulling her to her feet so that she dropped her empty cup. She felt strong arms encircle her, and she saw Mack's smiling handsome face before her blurred eyes. She brought her arms up as though it were the most natural and accepted action in the world and clung to Mack's neck as he kissed her, opening her mouth eagerly to accept his tongue. Pete was a forgotten mirage. Wantonly, she rubbed her blossoming tits against Mack's naked chest, enjoying the feeling of sensuality which the liquor had sent rippling through her body and Mack's embrace was magnifying. She could feel his prick pressing against her belly. She felt it jerk slightly in his pants, and she knew he was aroused by her passionate kiss.
She thought liquor was supposed to smell, but his breath smelled sweet and warm, she thought numbly as she kissed him. Gosh, he really knew how to kiss, too. His lips were so soft. Laura was feeling slightly wicked, letting Mack Toohey kiss her this way, right in front of everyone else. Suddenly, his mouth pressured hers open very wide, and his tongue slipped along her wetly parted lips before plunging in farther than before. She felt wonderful tremors of excitement course through her at such familiarity, such closeness. In spite of herself, instead of feeling angry or frightened, she was being oddly responsive to his invasion of her mouth. She clung to him almost as passionately as she had clung to Pete and… and the dog! She allowed Mack's moistly flicking tongue to fill her mouth for a long moment more, swirling round and round her own, before she drew back, giggling, of all things, to break the embrace.
Pete and Janie watched with amusement for a little while, but the scene was too much, and Janie was more the temptress than Laura. Her twelve year old lips were already full and sensuous and often glistened invitingly because of her damn habit of moistening them constantly with the tip of her little pink tongue, making a guy want to taste them more and more each time he looked at them. She had adopted the habit from her mother without thinking.
By the time Pete turned to Janie, she was smiling, and her eyes said that she knew what he wanted to do and that it was just fine with her. She opened her arms to him, and he pressed in close to her, feeling the taut, hard-nippled firmness of her developing tits brand his chest hotly, even through her tank top. Then his lips were on hers, and her tongue flickered into his mouth to fuse with his, teasing along the ridged roof and over his teeth.
Christ Almighty, thought Pete. No wonder Mack had given him trouble about switching girls for the picnic! Janie was a real surprise and knew how to French-kiss better than he had ever had any girl do it. Now he couldn't wait to get her other ways as well!
Janie Farragut's hot probing tongue began to flash in and out of Pete's mouth as if she was trying to rape him with it, and he felt his prick give an involuntary leap of arousal. The dark-haired, freckle-nosed beauty seemed to sense his passion and wantonly ground her pelvis against his loins, moving her hips in a lewd circular motion. Christ in heaven, what was she doing? Wow, she was something. It felt like she trying to screw him standing up, right there with all their clothes on! Hell, she dry-fucked better than any girl he knew could actually make love, and his eagerly throbbing cock was almost erect from her erotic movements against him.
But then suddenly Janie withdrew her tongue from his mouth and pulled back, smiling sultrily at him, with her eyes smoky-looking and half-lidded. She smoothed down her tank top with the palms of her hands, and Pete flushed at the bulge along the right leg of his trousers. He darted a look to see if the others were watching, but they were too involved in their own lovemaking. Janie was laughing merrily as though he had told a joke, and he poured them each another punch from the jug, hoping his prick would go down. It was not that he would not use it later, but he and Mack had planned a kind of four-way deal. Still, his mind was filled with lewd thoughts of Janie alone, how she would look and feel nakedly spread out beneath him on the ground with her cloud of dark hair tangled in his fingers while he fucked into the tightness of her hungering cunt again and again. His restlessly stirring cock ached with a growing lust, and it was rising again into half-erectness from his thoughts alone.
Pete DePow was sure his face and neck must be flushed red and not with sunburn. He supposed his pulsating prick could be seen by Janie. He and Mack had meant to heat the girls up, but Laura would take much longer, and he had to wait. Would Janie become impatient or angry? She surely knew what was on his mind. Suddenly, she spoke.
"I can hear water, Pete. Where is it? Let's go see!"
That would be something to do while they waited for Mack and Laura, he thought, grateful to her. He took her hand and led her up a little hill and through a ring of trees to a brook that was not more than six inches deep but was fast enough to sound like a river of miniature waterfalls as it rushed over all the stones that were scattered throughout its course. They were standing there watching the water, listening to its refreshing music, when Janie surprised him.