She can drive better than that, he thought, even if she hasn't been driving very long!
"I saw you and Blanche," said Alma very quietly, her voice tight but well under control. "I saw what you were doing to her."
Cecil felt the hard knot in his stomach begin to tighten. "Yes," he murmured. "I know that you saw us."
"If I told mom," Alma said, her voice sounding mean and vicious, "you'd be in trouble and mom'd be upset!"
Cecil closed his eyes. "I I wouldn't want to make mom upset," he whispered.
Alma, twisted her body on the car seat. Her left foot stayed on the floor, but her right leg went up high, over the top of the seat.
Cecil stared at her legs. The thin, silken hose ended halfway up her thighs, then there was a sea of whiteness which stretched up and up until it converged at a hairy apex.
Alma slid her bare buttocks toward Cecil, her fingers went between her thighs and parted wet, red lips… "All right," she mouthed, "if you can do it to Blanche, you can do it to me. Come on, Cecil kiss my cunt!"
Cecil let his head drop down. As his face got closer to Alma's flesh, he saw her fingers prying the lips open baring what Blanche called ‘her oozy little hole' and above, he saw the little lump move, just like Blanche's did, and he knew that when he gripped it with his teeth, tickled the tip of it with his tongue, Alma would get all hot and excited… Girls liked to have their wriggly lump sucked… they liked to have a tongue stuck into their oozy little holes, too… Girls, Cecil thought were pretty lucky!
Cecil sat on the straight – backed chair and stared in front of him. He didn't want to look toward the settee where Alma was sitting with her new boyfriend, Joe. Cecil didn't like Joe. Joe was big and strong and always trying to get hold of girls. Cecil couldn't understand why any girls wanted a boy tike Joe.
And now, Alma had got him. Alma, with her curvy, well – developed figure, looking much more than sixteen years old. She was pretty, Cecil admitted to himself. Not as pretty as Blanche though. He looked ahead of him, stared at his sister Blanche as she danced with Donna to the music from the record player.
Blanche was beautiful. At fourteen years of age, her brunette head of hair glistened with an electric vibrancy. Her lithe body gyrated in time to the music with a dynamic intensity of her own. Her face moved with revealing shadows of emotion as she mouthed the words of a song. She turned her head, fixed luminous eyes on Cecil's face as he stared at her. Then her mouth crinkled into a smile, she winked wickedly, brazenly, invitingly, and tossed her head, causing her hair to flare frenetically round her forehead as her eyes rolled toward the stairway and above with a devilish suggestiveness.
Cecil blushed. He knew what Blanche's mood implied. As soon as Donna was safely in bed, and Alma and Joe out of the way, she would…
His eyes rested on his younger sister for an idle moment. Donna would be more like Blanche than Alma, he thought. She was a brunette, not a blonde like Alma or his mother.
His mother! Cecil's eyes clouded. Ever since the awful afternoon when he had found his mother and Brad in her bedroom he felt a sick sensation in his stomach whenever his mother was out of his sight with Brad. She was with Brad now! They had gone to a show together in Brad's car.
Cecil tried to pull his mind away from his mother. He looked at Alma. She was blonde, too. Blonde and beautiful just like his mother.
Just like his mother! Would some horrible man try to push a monstrous, ugly prick into her? Cecil winced at the thought.
Joe! Cecil stared at Joe with a new dislike. Was that what Joe was wanting to do? He kept his gaze on Joe, heating him with his eyes, until the boy glanced up and asked idly, "Well, Cecil what's new with you?"
Cecil shook his head, got up without answering, and walked moodily to the glass – enclosed terrace. He opened the door and stepped out.
Joe turned to Alma, his eyebrows raised. "What's the matter with him?" he asked.
Alma smiled up at her beau. "Nothing," she murmured, parting her lips sweetly as she knew she was supposed to. "You know Cecil!"
"Yeah," muttered Joe with feeling, "I know Cecil!" He stared after the young boy, broodingly.
Cecil looked at the night, then sighed. The air was mild and balmy with a hint of spring in it, but Cecil was thinking of Joe and Alma. He knew that as soon as they were alone, Joe would kiss Alma, fondle her, try to slip his hand under her shorty skirt, squeeze his ringers between her thighs and… Cecil screwed shut his eyes, trying vainly to close out his thoughts. Why were men and boys such beasts?
"Hello," said Blanche, sliding up behind him, slipping her arm round his waist and squeezing him as though he were another girl.
He heard the sweet, sensually slick voice and turned with a slight smile on his face. Nobody else had a voice like Blanche's, he thought. Maybe she had a lot of other things that nobody else had…
He squeezed her hand affectionately, then his smile faded as he asked, "Did you see them?"
Blanche blinked her big, dark eyes at him. Yes," she nodded her head, then tried to steer Cecil's thoughts away from Joe and her sister. "Donna's gone up to bed," she murmured softly.
Cecil didn't answer, but he felt a tiny stirring flicker through his belly. He knew what Blanche was going to say next.
"You know somethin', Cecil?" she whispered. "I'm all oozy and wriggly." Her voice was breathless.
He moved his face close to hers and she kissed him wetly in the darkness. "You always are," he murmured.
She twisted her body like a small girl who wanted to go to the toilet, then murmured moistly, "Will you?"
Cecil knew what she wanted, but he liked to hear her say it. ''Will I what?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.
"Oh, you know," she hissed. "I mean kiss me?"
"Sure," Cecil whispered, turning his head and touching her cheek with his lips.
"Not that!" Blanche wriggled her body in impatience. "You know what I mean." Then she said it. "Will you kiss my little hole? Will you suck my oozy little thing?"
"Your little holey thing?" he asked, calling it what he'd called it so long ago. So long ago? How long was it since he'd first thrust his eager tongue into her hungry little body?
"Yesss!" she hissed wetly. "My oozy, holey little thing! You remember, don’t you?"
"All right," he said. "You know you do whatever you want, Blanche… "He smiled at her gently.
"You're so sweet, Cecil," she mouthed demurely, then eagerly asked, "Where can we go?"
Where could they go? The thought flickered through Cecil's mind. They'd done it in her bedroom, his bedroom, the lounge, and the kitchen. Once, some strange urge had made him want to suck her on his mother's bed so she'd let him and loved it, as she always did. One time, they'd gone to the end of their short backyard garden and entered the lean – to shed…
Cecil's eyes slid to the window. Alma and Joe were still on the settee. Weren’t they going out tonight? Then he turned to Blanche, whispered, "The shed "
Then, hand in hand, they scurried down the garden path, to the dust and darkness in the lean – to shed. A discarded couch there made a comfortable pad, so Cecil dropped on his back with a smooth ease and familiarity that came from long practice.
How many times had he done this thing with Blanche? A shaft of dim moonlight penetrated the opening that sufficed as a window high on the wall of the lean – to; Blanche's buttocks shone whitely as she unclipped then unwrapped her skirt from around her hips. She never wears panties anymore! Cecil thought idly as she lifted a leg over him and straddled his body with her face toward his feet. Her head went down, and he watched her buttocks getting closer and closer to his face as she inched her way along his body. The cheeks of her bottom seemed to open and close with every small movement of her body.
Absently, he lifted a finger, touched the small star that nestled in the cleft between the wriggling buttocks.