Sonny took the glasses of lemonade to the living room, the coolest place in the house, and dropped down on the couch. The shower stopped spattering. Shortly Lily appeared in a fresh t-shirt and blue denim skirt, drying her hair with a towel. She rubbed harshly. Her titties hopped about, the dark points cutting wiggly arcs in the white cotton material.
She tossed the towel at a chair, raked out her hair with a comb, came and plopped down beside him, grabbing her glass of lemonade.
He blurted, "Want to go to the movies tonight?"
"What?"
He repeated it. She gazed, disbelieving, at him, an eyebrow raised.
She asked, "What's the matter, can't your mother go?"
"I just asked if you want to."
She sipped her lemonade, studying him. "I might have to help Dad deliver that last batch of overgrown petunias."
"I could go along. Then he could drop us off at the movies." He paused. "Lily, I want to ask you something. See, I've been thinking."
"It seems like you have." "Suppose I kissed you?"
She gaped at him. Lemonade dribbled down her chin. She knuckled it away. Slowly a peach blush colored her dark-gold cheeks. She glanced away, frowning, then gulped down her drink and set the glass on the floor.
"Sonny, did your mother say to kiss me?"
He bit his lip. Darn it, Lily knew him too well. But he said, "I'm asking you."
"You sure are dumb. I mean, you're really stupid!"
"Don't you want to?"
"You jerk, nobody ever asks for kisses." He kissed her.
He did it blindly, wildly, crushing his lips to hers, not knowing if she would claw his face or punch him in the belly or what.
What she did was freeze up stiff as a board. Then she clawed into his hair, twisted, and forced him away.
She gasped, "You want to break my teeth?"
He gulped at the lump in his throat. "Gosh; Lily, I'm sorry."
"Do it gently," she said. Her head fell against his shoulder. Her dark eyes had narrowed. She licked her lips, left her mouth half open, a pink line of tongue showing between her pearly teeth.
He turned in on her, kissed her soft-mouthed. Her lips rolled under the pressure, widened.
Her tonguetip slid into his mouth.
The slippery contact jolted him. The next few moments were a red blur in his mind as he tasted the sweetness of Lily's mouth, felt her lips suck at his, licked her elusive tonguetip. Her fingers caressed his cheek.
The voluptuousness of her surrender startled him out of his senses.
At last she slipped away, her head dropping back onto his shoulder.
She murmured, "I thought you didn't care about me.
"Lily, I do!"
Her fingertips caressed his throat. "Lily, you're the prettiest girl I know." "No, I'm not."
"Like Mother says, you have magnificent eyes- "I don't want to hear about your goddam mother." She nuzzled his throat. She had sort of cuddled up to him, fitting into the shape of his body.
This did not seem like Lily. She was always sort of energetic, no-nonsense, thrusting busily about- He remembered Mother saying he should caress her body when he kissed her. He stroked her bare arm. She gave a little shiver and squirmed closer. She pressed her lips to his throat and sucked lightly.
He gazed down at her titties, like cones protruding in her t-shirt but plumper, and because her body was turned, slanted his way. Had Kit meant he should caress Lily's breasts?
She asked, "Why did you decide you wanted to kiss me?"
She had already guessed why, when she asked if it was his mother's idea.
Darn it, his mother should at least stay out of this.
He said, "Because you're my girl. Aren't you?"
She gazed steadily at him, Then a blush touched her cheek and she turned to his neck and whispered, "If you say so, I guess I am."
He glanced down at her titties. Her nipples knobbed the soft knit cotton of the t-shirt. Quite deliberately, he moved his hand to one breast and cupped it firmly.
Lily gave a gasp and squeezed in closer.
He thumbed her nipple. It hardened.
She whispered against his throat, "Gosh; you've even noticed that I have titties."
He chuckled. "I always notice them, the way your t-shirt is dirtiest there because they're in the way and butt into everything."
Her hand slid up his neck, behind, and her fingers grew into his hair like the tendrils of a vine. Her face raised, her wet mouth open. He kissed her again, this time with more assurance, mouthing her lips and tonguing in. She sucked at his tongue. He could hear her breathing shorten, like rasping.
He explored her tittie, testing the firmness. Solid. And yet it was soft except for the nipple sharpening against his palm.
He fingered the t-shirt up over it and clutched the nude hard-pointed cone.
Lily's mouth slid from his. She gasped, "I have to breathe!"
She panted as he gently squeezed her bare breast, studied the nipple peg, still extending as her aureole puffed.
She whispered, "That does things to me. "Like what?"
She squirmed closer. "It makes me feel hot. In other places."
He got the idea. He glanced at her bare legs. Her skirt had wQrked up almost to her crotch. He reached down to her thigh and stroked it.. Gosh, it felt so different from his, soft, kind of waxy, slick.
He fingered up to her pubes and pressed the silky hair.
She gave a kind of shudder.
He asked, "There? It warms you there?"
"Uh-huh. In my pussy."
Then, abruptly, her arm dropped and her hand closed on his stiff prick.
She fisted it tightly.
CHAPTER TWO
Lily could hardly believe that her hand was clenched on Sonny's prick, a rigid cylinder burning right through the material of his shorts.
She lived in a man's world, between her father and Sonny. She wore skirts instead of shorts for greenhouse work, trying to get the message through to them that she was different, a girl, that she needed affection, love, flattery, and from Sonny the excitement of sex. Their only recognition of her femininity had been excusing her from heavy lifting and carpentry work.
Now, out of nowhere, Sonny had begun kissing her and fondling her breasts.
After years of gazing wistfully at his crotch bulge, she at last held his cock.
She had to see it. She grabbed the zipper tab and yanked it down, thrust her hand in his open fly and seized the hot trapped meat and wrenched it out.
She gasped on seeing a giant pinkish stem capped with a red-purple arrowhead shape, towering up from the ruff of his pubic hair.
The stalk felt as hard as the handle of a greenhouse trowel. But it was enormous! Almost six inches of it sprouted from her clutching hand. And the knob was so swollen and inflamed that it looked infected.
She had never dreamed that it would be this big and the colors so garish. Oh, she knew what an erect cock was supposed to look like, from pictures in her sex education book at school, and fuck photos that kids passed around. And girls talked about pricks like hard salamis.. But this was too much.
She thrust her face into Sonny's throat, as though hiding from his rampant organ. It did not match him. That throbbing stalk had nothing to do with his rather pretty face, his slim chest, his gangly limbs. Some kids called Sonny a sissy. In anger, Lily had often sneered that he was a momma's boy.
Still, she had known there was iron in him. On very hot days he worked in the greenhouse right alongside Daddy, after Lily herself had fled the heat indoors. Daddy called him "Your boy friend," in a way that signified strong approval.
Sonny asked, "What's the matter?"
She whispered, "I thought it would be littler. I mean, in your pants the bulge looks like a small fist. See, everybody can tell by looking how big a girl's titties are but your thing is-I didn't think-"
She burst into tears.