Later, she pulled a couple of magazines out of the straw bag and handed one of them to Davie; the fashion magazine. Trish thumbed idly through the VIVA copy, knowing that the sexy photographs of naked men and women would arouse the teen's curiosity. It wasn't curiosity that was aroused in Trish – it was her cunt. Lying in the hot sun, reading the frank confessions from readers and the bold, permissive captions under the glossy photographs of good looking naked studs and their girlfriends, Trish found it impossible not to squeeze her thighs together so that the lips of her pussy created a satisfying friction on her throbbing, distended clit. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Davie stealing furtive glances at the sexy spreads as she pretended to be engrossed in photographs of stilted mannequins posing in high fashion getups that were much too sophisticated for her age group.
"Well… I'll be darned!" she said suddenly, as she turned to the feature spread. "He's a dead ringer for Randy!"
Davie leaned over with great interest. "Let me see," she demanded.
Trish started to show the young girl, then withdrew the magazine, pretending concern. "No, I really shouldn't show it to you. This rag is not the sort of thing for innocent young eyes like yours, Davie."
"Don't be silly. I've read VIVA lots of times. There's always an issue or two stashed in somebody's locker at school," she insisted. "I'm not a little girl, you know."
Trish looked at her warily. "Of course you're not, Davie. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought that it might not be the proper thing to do… to show you. These photos leave nothing to the imagination," she said, giving Davie a warm and knowing smile.
"Why do you think the kids at school buy them!"
Both females laughed then as Trish opened the magazine again to the sexy shots. There was a photograph of a good looking young blonde man straddling a full breasted oriental girl with shimmering black hair down to her waist. He was feeding her grapes, and she had her tongue outstretched and her back arched in a most provocative way as he tantalized her with the dewy fruit. It was sexy as hell. The man's muscles were highlighted and his hard buttocks glistened like the hindquarters of a stallion.
"Isn't that amazing – if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Randy!" Trish enthused. "You saw him at the air field yesterday. Don't you think my brother looks like this guy?"
"I didn't get a real good look, but I can see the resemblance," Davie agreed, studying the photograph carefully. She was stirred by the prurient picture. It set her imagination to work, which was the intention of the editors – as well as the crafty blonde lying next to her.
"Randy is a beautiful boy, even if he is my brother," Trish went on. "Perfect build. He's a very physical kind of guy. Always doing something athletic. He was a star on the game field at school." (And he's a star in the bedroom, too, she felt like saying… as you'll soon find out, my sweet young lamb!)
Trish flipped the page. More shots of the handsome young man and his Oriental chick. He was very well hung; a beautiful set of equipment. God, he really did look like Randy… right down to his cock and balls. Trish wanted to lick the page. She wanted to suck her brother's cock again. And she wanted to suck Davie Knight's beautiful pussy!
The sexy photographs were having the desired effect on the impressionable teenager. She felt a forbidden stirring of desire in her own loins as she devoured the blatant poses of the couple in various acts of pretend lovemaking. She had never been with a boy before – Mother had seen to that; though there were some close calls a couple of times. French kissing and feeling a boy's hand on her covered breast. But there had never been the right circumstances where she had the privacy and the freedom to "go all the way". Still, she had gotten very excited during those harmless encounters, feeling an embarrassing wetness in her panties and something in her vagina that made her want to have a boy's thing inside. Several of her girlfriends were no longer virgins, and she had gotten an earful about some of their sessions with boys. It had excited her very much. But she also felt afraid.
Her thoughts turned to her father. What is he like with a woman, she wondered. She substituted her father for the man in the photograph momentarily, but her thoughts produced a feeling of guilt and anxiety in her callow mind, and she quickly blanked them out.
Suddenly Trish asked her a question she didn't expect, "Have you ever made love, Davie?"
The young girl's face grew crimson and she hung her head. "No, I've never been with a guy," she answered quietly. Not with a guy! her guilty thoughts reminded her. Only with other females!
"You're kind of young, I guess," said Trish. "No rush… although I was about your age – maybe a year younger – when I did it the first time. I never realized anything could be so beautiful…"
"Was it really, Trish?" Davie asked eagerly. She was dying to hear more. Desire for forbidden fruit was building rapidly in her young body.
"Oh yes! So beautiful. Naturally, I was scared to death at first. But I was lucky… he was a few years older; about 19 or 20, I think. He'd already had a lot of experience, so he knew what I was going through in my head. He was very gentle."
"Didn't it hurt, Trish?" Davie inquired intently.
"Oh sure, at first. But then, pretty soon it felt so wonderful that the pain went away and it was nothing but rainbows and lollipops from then on."
"But how did you feel afterwards? I mean, didn't you feel guilty or anything? Weren't you afraid that he'd lose respect for you?"
"Honey, I guess I'm the type who doesn't let guilt trips spoil my fun. No, I can't honestly say that I felt any way except absolutely marvelous and eager to be with him again. But that's just me. Everybody has to march to his own drummer. My little drummer boy says, 'Come and get it!'"
Davie laughed. They both did. But her mind was churning with a thousand unresolved questions.
"Hey, don't mind me, Davie. I guess I really shouldn't be talking to you like this woman to woman," Trish apologized.
"No, Trish, you're mistaken. I need to talk to another woman; someone who's experienced and mature. I can't talk to my mother – no way! And my friends at school, well, they're a bunch of braggarts and gossips. You never know what to believe with them. Besides. I wasn't born yesterday!"
Trish gave her young friend a wry smile. "Sure, honey. I understand. You've got a friend in me, Davie – I hope you know that. So feel free to let it all hang out!"
CHAPTER FIVE
When Davie didn't appear in the dining room at lunch time, Peter Knight was seized with a strange feeling of apprehension, although he told himself it was probably unwarranted. The sexy blonde stewardess was also conspicuously absent, however, and a casual inquiry to Benny, his maitre d', informed him that Miss Byers had requested a picnic lunch for two. He decided to go in search of Davie. He just didn't feel right about his guileless daughter spending too much time with the older "friend", who was not to be trusted, in his opinion.
He walked down to the beach and shielded his eyes against the invading rays of light, looking to infinity in hotly directions. No sign of Davie or the sensual blonde. He went to the woman's bungalow and knocked politely. No answer. He tried the door, found it unlocked and went in. The room had been made up and was noticeably void of occupants. He left the bungalow and walked to the house. Again, no one. For some reason, his concern was mounting. He tried to tell himself that he was being an over protective old fuddy duddy, but the tension in his stomach grew. Finally he climbed in the Porsche and headed along one of the narrow dirt roads that paralleled the ribbon of white beach. He stopped periodically, idling the Porsche and walking through the low foliage on the dunes to scan the shimmering sand. Where the hell was Davie?