"Little Maureen_s Family Pleasures" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ryder Virginia K. G.)

CHAPTER 3

Down by the creek where most of us played, I met Tim; orTe-im, as his folks called him, in the Southern way, as if his name had two syllables instead of one.

They were regular people, his parents, who worked 9-to-5 and sent their kids to public school and watched TV every night and who had only the vaguest notion of any weirdness going on out at The Pink Flamingo Motel.

Our secret incest swinger club was exactly that: a big secret.

So even though the odd dark rumor occasionally surfaced, it never seemed plausible enough to the so-callednormalpeople to be considered more than that: an extremely dark rumor.

“Hey, Maureen!” the boy I had a giant crush on smiled at me when I walked up. “Are you ready?”

“Hello, Tim,” I smiled right back. “Let's go.”

He was a tall but slightly built 12-year-old, somewhat gawky even, I guess, but good-looking in that way where you knew he'd be real handsome as a grown-up. He was a year ahead of me, in the 6th grade, but he went to a different school, William Henry Harrison Elementary.

Thank God for that.

Since almost all of us kids who participated in my parents' sex club for some reason went to St. Katherine's Academy, there was little chance of Tim hearing anything weird about me from someone he went to school with.

Weirdlybadabout me, I mean.

Like that I was a dirty little slut who fucked every boy I met, as if I couldn't ever get enough sex. And that I loved sucking cocks. And swallowing cum. And licking other girls' cunts, old or young.

As I mentioned, I was doing everything I could to keep any idea of the real me from him. I didnotwant to give him up.

He held up two fairly new tennis rackets, which he'd brought from home. I took one from him and hefted it.

“I've never played,” I admitted. “We just knock the ball back and forth?”

“You'll see,” he told me as we started walking to the nearby park where the courts were. “It'll be easy.”

“Okay.”

He and I loped along, two skinny normal kids, me blonde, him dark-haired like my dad, carrying our rackets as if we knew what we were doing. In truth, I doubted that Tim played a lot of tennis himself, since he didn't seem particularly athletic.

I was thinking it was more or less an excuse on his part to spend time with me. This was an idea that made me deliriously happy.

“What'd you do last night?” he asked me. “Anything interesting?”

I glanced to him with a girlish look of pure innocence.

“Nothing much,” I said, giving him a little shrug. “Watched television and read some boring stuff.”

The truth, I knew, would've ended what little chance I had for a sweet romance with him. I was certain Tim was still a virgin and I knew he assumed I was, too. I also knew he couldn't even imagine the life of wanton and sinful debauchery I was enthusiastically living.

Like I said, it'd crush him to know the real me.

And the night before, I'd done some reading, all right, but it was actually the instruction manual to my mom's expensive new sex machine, a put-it-together chrome contraption for fucking she'd ordered on the Internet. It took my mother, my father and me all evening to build it.

After that, of course, we had to try it out.