We now had plenty of time to be alone. There was no tenant for the extra room and Mamma Agnes was working out, with the result that we had several hours at our disposal between the time school was over and the hour at which she returned.
One day while we were standing on the sidewalk in front of the house Leonard appeared. Leonard, being entirely in Rene's confidence, had been appraised of the new state of affairs. He had intimated that he would like to try it again with me, which intimation I had listened to with no great enthusiasm, not through chaste reluctance, but because of the still lingering recollection of what had happened the first time.
I was still in ignorance of the exact physical facts and blamed him for the pain I had suffered. After some desultory conversation the enterprising Leonard suggested that the three of us proceed to the attic and have a hoochy dance. If you are familiar with juvenile parlance you may know that a hoochy dance is a simple but interesting form of entertainment in which the participants take off their clothes or “get naked” as they express it, and either with hands joined or independently, will jump and cavort in a circle in a sort of primitive dance.
The element of attraction in this otherwise inspired diversion being that the boys can look at the girl's cunny and the girl can look at the boys' dickies. “And…” continued Leonard, after contributing this suggestion for a pleasant manner in which to pass the afternoon ”… afterwards, you can fuck Jessie and I'll look, and then I'll fuck her and you can look.”
As for me I was entirely agreeable to the first part of the program, and open to acceptance on the latter. It was Rene who interposed the logical objection that three of us weren't enough to properly stage a hoochy dance and we set to speculating as to the possibility of getting additional recruits. A hurried inventory of acceptable prospects only brought to light that this one was not at home, that one was sick, and another being “kept in” as a disciplinary measure, etc. It seemed there was little hope of rounding out the party on short notice and as a last recourse, Leonard rather apologetically suggested that maybe we'd be satisfied with Maisie.
This was a thought. Maisie had never participated in any of our doings because being younger than the rest of us we looked down upon her from the vantage of our maturity and wisdom as being just a kid. Nevertheless, Maisie had earned quite a reputation of her own and Leonard made no secret of the fact that before his ideas had been broadened by the vanished maidservant he had often diddled his little sister. He looked on hopefully while Rene studied the suggestion.
“Can you find her?” queried Rene.
“Sure I can, if you'll wait for me!” responded Leonard.
“Well, all right, then. Hurry up!”
In less than five minutes Leonard was back with Maisie in tow. She was a beautiful little thing and her eyes were shining with elation at the idea of being permitted to participate in older children's secrets.
“Now we're going to have a hoochy dance in our attic,” explained Rene, addressing her. “If we let you come, you won't tell, will you?”
“No, no! I won't tell, ever!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I'm not a tattletale, am I, Lenny?” she added, turning to her brother for corroboration.
“No, she won't tell. She knows bloody well we'll knock her block off if she does!” responded Leonard with menacing emphasis.
Up to the attic we trooped and with much giggling and laughter began to undress. True to the usual formula of feminine hypocrisy, Maisie and I both made a great show of being concerned about the boys seeing us before we were “ready” and chided them hysterically for peeking while we were undressing.
This incitation had its natural effect upon the two boys and when we finally faced them, every stitch of clothing removed from our white little bodies, their cocks were standing out in stiff and rigid excitation.
We dragged the mattress to one side and, joining hands, began our hoochy dance, which consisted of nothing more complicated than swinging around in a circle and jumping up and down to the accompaniment of some ribald verses which we repeated over and over while the feminine eyes of the contiguity were fixed on jiggling dickies which bounced up and down with the violent movements of their owners, and the masculine ones on fat-lipped, hairless little cunnies.
When we had finally exhausted our acrobatic and musical repertoire we sat down, breathless, to rest and devise further exploits. Leonard wanted to fuck me while Rene and Maisie looked on, and then have the arrangement reversed with him and me the spectators while Rene fucked Maisie.
I protested that it hurt with him and expressed a preference to do it with Rene. My protest was partly actuated by something akin to jealousy. Somehow, I didn't exactly relish the idea of Rene fucking Maisie. But Rene intervened, and his word was law. It wouldn't hurt me now if I did it with Leonard. I was used to it now.
And so, with Leonard crouched on one side and I on the other, both watching with wide eyes, my foster brother Rene straddled Maisie's naked body, got his cock into a crevice which fitted around it like a tight little ring of flesh and, without a mishap or indication of discomfort on her part, fucked her until he had an orgasm.
Maisie never stirred or made a sound. She just lay there quietly, looking up into his face with her big, wondering eyes until he had finished and then calmly wriggled out from under him, sat up and murmured:
“Now it's our turn to watch!”
“Didn't it make you feel nice, Maisie?” I asked in some astonishment at her placidity. “When Rene and I do it, T just tremble all over, it makes me feel so good!”
“Sure, it makes me feel nice. I like to do it!” affirmed Maisie, but it was apparent that she had not yet experienced a real orgasm, even though Leonard had long since gotten her maidenhead out of the way.
With some inward misgivings I submitted to Leonard's ministrations and, of course, quickly discovered that my fears were groundless, for his dickey was in almost before I knew it, and this time without causing me any pain. Not counting Leonard's previous attempt, this was the first time I had been really fucked by any boy except Rene and, despite my affection for him, the novelty of a new cock had its emotional reaction and very quickly brought my quivering organism to that delicious borderland wherein for a few seconds the senses vibrate in ecstatic anticipation before definitely rendering their delicious offering. Another wiggle or two served to precipitate the ejaculation.
I was about twelve years old when what I have just related occurred. A few days later, on the way home from school, a boy named Bryan sidled up to me and rather timidly asked me if I would do it with him.
Bryan was a boy I would have described as nice. He was fourteen or fifteen, always dressed very neatly, had a pleasing personality and agreeable features. To say that I was not surprised at the overture would be an exaggeration, yet I was not displeased. If I had any doubts as to precisely what he meant by “do it” with him, the doubt was dispelled with one look into his flushed face and averted eyes and the uneasy, furtive glances he cast about as though to assure himself that there was no one else within hearing. Nevertheless, to delay an answer until I could gather my confused thoughts, I murmured innocently:
“Do what with you?”
“Aw, you know what I mean, Jessie!”
“No, I don't!”
“Something nice… like you did with Lenny Connors!”
His reference to Leonard caused me a slight chill of apprehension, but did not entirely prejudice me against him. He continued to coax, and I, beginning to enjoy the thrill of being begged for something with such humility, neither definitely denied nor promised my complacency.
“Where could we go to do it?” I asked evasively.
His answer to this revealed the fact that he was well informed regarding my private life and affairs.
“Couldn't we go up to your attic before your mamma comes home?” he suggested hopefully.
This was something Rene would have to be consulted on, so I evaded a direct answer by saying I'd tell him the next day, and with that I skipped off.
“Bryan wants to do it with me. Shall I let him?” I asked Rene.
“Bryan? Bryan who?”
“Bryan Thompson, that boy that lives over on Little Goose Neck Road.”
Rene considered the matter for a moment and deciding apparently that it was of insufficient importance to trouble his head over, disclaimed responsibility with an indifferent shrug.
“Oh, I don't know. Do what you want. What do I care?”
“He knows about Leonard and me. I bet Maisie… '
“Gee! You better do it with him so he won't tell. I got to go now and see a chap. Goodbye.”
And so it came about that Bryan's name was added to my now growing list of youthful paramours. He was
