Chapter 13: Dorothy

This chapter is where this tale takes a hard right turn. It was something I wanted to write while in the middle of this story. It goes for a lot of chapters and has little to do with Cheryl or Helen. This chapter contains incest between a brother and sister and anal sex. Skip it if either of those offends.

In the morning, I was up before the two sleepyheads, who, as best I could tell, had gone to sleep after their singular sex escapade. I put the skillet on the fire and dumped in the last can of beans I had brought. It would be a thin-down English breakfast to start our day. I saw my blonde-headed ward shake her sleeping companion.

Not so quiet I couldn’t hear, “Helen ... Helen, wake up.”

“Yeah,” Helen said, sounding half-awake.

“Does your pussy and butt itch?” Cheryl asked her hand going to her crotch.

“Uh-huh. Now that you say that they itch badly, so does my face.” She said, turning toward Cheryl. I could see her face. She had a red rash around her lips, extending up her cheeks.

“Oh shit, your face ... It’s covered with a rash.” Cheryl was no longer trying to stay quiet.

Helen’s eyes got really big and she had a look of concern after seeing Cheryl’s face and asked, “Doesn’t your face itch? Cause, I’m not the only one.”

“No, it kind of burns,” Cheryl replied, putting her hand to her face. She rolled onto her back, letting me see. The red rash was smeared up her cheeks and heavier around her mouth and chin. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was allergic to pussy juice. Since the rash matched perfectly where pussy juice would smear as you ate a juicy cunt. And Cheryl had a juicy pussy. And from Cheryl’s face, I would guess so did Helen.

They were both slow to get out of the sleeping bag. When on their feet, I had expected the rash down their legs. But both sets of legs were as smooth and looked as runway-perfect as ever. What I did notice was that neither of the girls had put back on their panties before getting out of the bag. Their thin nightshirts showed no signs of pantie lines in the back, and Helen’s dark, small patch created a shadow in the front.

Cheryl’s blonde line above her slit didn’t create the same shadow as Helen’s darker one. It was an errant scratching of her pussy that pulled her shirt up, showing red labia that, though covered in small bumps, had no hair. She had evidently started shaving her lips, preventing hairs from being painfully pulled on when caught in Helen’s teeth. Her line of pussy hair started at the top of the reddened labia came into view. Cheryl was too involved with her scratching beneath her shirt to be aware her cunt was fully in view.

Helen was the one to first notice Cheryl’s pussy being in full view of both of us. “Cheryl ... Your shirt.” She nodded at Cheryl’s hand, going up and down with her fingernails clawing at her labia.

“What it itches like shit.” She reached around to scratch her ass crack. “Only my crack itches more. So I don’t give a shit if he looks.”

“God, I don’t know how I’m gonna wear pants, much less underwear,” Helen said, not acknowledging Cheryl’s assessment. A few seconds later, she was scratching at her tits. “Oh hell, even my titties itch.”

Based on their complaints and the locations of their rash, I was fairly sure how they got it. Now I wanted to know what plant caused it. “Girls, what did you use to wipe with yesterday?”

“Just some leaves, like you said,” Cheryl whined, scratching her ass harder.

“Which ones?” I asked nicely, as she was in a pissy mood.

Helen walked over to a vine growing up a tree and pulled some leaves off before I could stop her. “We used these,” she said, extending a handful.

I took a step back quickly, “Don’t get those near me. That’s poison ivy.” Looking over at Cheryl, I sort of asked while telling her, “Didn’t you tell me you knew what poison ivy looks like?”

“Yeah,” she said, evidently missing what I had first said to Helen.

“Well, you need a refresher. What Helen has in her hand is what poison ivy looks like, since it is it.” I stated. “And you must have put your hands on your faces at some time after handling the leaves,” I stated, though it was a lie. I didn’t even try explaining how the rash had gotten to Helen’s chest.

“Yeah, what cures it?” Cheryl asked. Her question meant she had likely never had it growing up in Denver.

“My dad and sister used some pink lotion,” Helen stated. Her fingernails were going to town on her covered tits, making them jiggle and change shape slightly. A couple of times I saw her pinch her nipples hard, one at a time, and groan. The pain of the pressure gave her some relief from the itch.

“You mean calamine lotion. It only helps a little with the itch. But time is usually the only thing that cures it. Unless you want to go get a steroid shot.” I said. “Oh, I forgot that in Florida we went to the beach to cure it. The saltwater shortened the time it itched.”

“Good, I’ve always wanted to go to Florida,” Cheryl said, finding a bit of levity. “But I’m gonna need to be pantsless on the flight.”

“Good to know. But there will be no travel to Florida. Maybe you can fill a washtub with salt water.” I suggested.

“Hell, I don’t know how I’m going to get back to the house,” Helen stated, walking with her feet far apart. She moved around the camp, not cognizant of her fingers that had been scratching at her tits and had started on her pussy. She had done what she had warned Cheryl about. Her rash-covered labia and the pink slit between them were gradually drawn into view. I did my best not to stare at her pleasure palace, even when she pinched her clit like she had her nipple. Once again, she used sharp pain as a diversion from the itching.

Cheryl had seen what Helen was doing, and I had a clear view of her vulva. Unlike Helen, she didn’t mind that her friend was showing me her charms. She flashed me a bit of a devious grin when she saw me taking quick looks. In fact, she did pretty much the opposite of warning Helen. She asked her friend, “Hey, you want to help John with all the stuff around the campfire while I pack up our stuff?”

In a fairly cheery voice, she said, “Sure, I can do that.” For the next ten minutes, she waddled around, bent over, and picked up various items we had used. Each time she did, the shirt she had been unwittingly pulling up, scratching her pussy, rode up over her perfectly curved ass with its crack that was flame red with small white pustules. The rash filling her ass’s valley was painful to look at. I could only imagine how it felt.

The camp was packed up while the teens stayed in their loose-fitting, fairly see-through sleeping attire. I use that loosely, as they rarely slept all night in it, opting for nude. Cheryl had packed away all their other clothes and left only two pairs of socks and shoes out.

She came up to me with Helen close behind her and said, “John, I have a question for you.”

“Sure shoot.”

“I ... We were wondering if you’d stay back here and get dressed while we hike home. You don’t have to stay the whole time, but maybe let us get ten to fifteen minutes ahead.” Cheryl asked.

“Can I ask you a question?” I countered, though I already had an idea why she wanted the head start.

Mimicking me, she answered, “Sure shoot.”

“Why?” My single-word question was all that was needed.

“Because we may need to stop and not so much scratch as let the air blow across the poison ivy. And Helen won’t do that while you’re around.” Cheryl said. I was kind of proud, she was thinking of her friend and watching out for her, even after letting her unwittingly expose herself.

“So you want me to say here, so you can walk through the woods naked?” I asked for clarity.

“Yeah, basically,” she acknowledged.

“Ok.” I turned to my pack and pulled out the revolver and holster I had brought. I handed it to Cheryl. “But you have to take this. You two should have some protection if you’re going to be out there alone without your knickers on.”

Both of the girls laughed, which was nice to hear. “What do you know about knickers? You’re not British?”

“How do you know? Now, cheerio, off with you. Get your arse to the house where we have proper bog rolls.” I said, jokingly. “I see you when I get there.”

The two were off after Cheryl secured the shoulder holster. The two cute butts with their rash-filled cracks headed off while I watched them go. I waited the fifteen minutes I promised. I could’ve caught them had I hurried. But I thought better of it, as it would’ve been outside the spirit of the agreement.

I did, however, without rushing to the house, catch up with them at the wood’s edge. Both had thrown off their thin shirts and were traipsing down the rarely-used path naked as the day they were born, except for the ankle socks and tennis shoes. I was trying to hide the fact that I had caught up to them while still on the trail. A snap of a small branch as I ducked behind some bushes had the two girls first turn to look back before hurrying into the house.

Before they turned and fled, giving me a view of their white butts with the red streak down the middle, I was treated to the front of them. Their nipples were surrounded in red this time, not due to blushing or being sucked on. The small mounds of flesh were covered in the red rash, like their pussy lips below. The redness blended into their nipples, making the pert usually dark pink circles around them dark red. They were each scratching at one of their tits while their other hand was going up and down along their labia. Had I not known better, I would have sworn they were masturbating while they hiked home.

I stayed away from the house for another ten minutes after they entered, giving the illusion that I hadn’t seen them. They had been in my room and pulled on the loosest-fitting sweatpants they could find with the baggiest t-shirts with nothing under them. Once again, the outlines of their nipples were evident as the shirts poked out and the color below bled through.

The packs in the middle of the floor Cheryl asked me, “Will you call Helen’s parents and tell them what happened? And see if she can stay longer.”

“Tell them what? That you have poison ivy? And that is why Helen wants to stay.”

I asked, making sure I had their reasoning down.

“Yes,” they said in tandem.

“Then no,” I said alone.

“But why not?” they whined, doing a good job of not rubbing on itchy patches of skin.

“I’ll back up your way of getting the rash. But it is up to you two to tell them and ask for more time.” I said, resolutely.

“But it is embarrassing,” Helen said before continuing. “I can’t tell my mom or dad I have poison ivy on my whohaa and titties.”

“Then I guess you can go to your other home, and they will find out pretty much immediately. Your face says it all.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess so. And it burns more than it itches,” Helen said, with Cheryl nodding behind her in agreement.

After putting away the items in their backpacks, Helen called her parents. I was in the middle of putting my stuff away when Cheryl called out, “John, will you talk to Helen’s mom?”

“Sure.” I picked up the receiver and said, “Hello, Mrs. Fields.”

“It’s Dorothy, remember?” Came through the earpiece.

“Yes, Ma’am. Hello Dorothy, what can I do for you?” I asked.

“I understand Helen has a little poison ivy and wants to stay there for a couple more days before coming home. She says you have a quick cure for it,” the pretty older woman said.

“I think they misheard what I said. I said I know of a way that shortened the time poison ivy itched for me. And they are downplaying the amount of rash they have.” I stated, to the woman on the other end of the phone. Cheryl and Helen looked horrified at my comment.

“So how bad does she really have it?” I was asked.

The two teens could hear the conversation, as I had the receiver turned so they could. I didn’t want any contradictory information to get to Helen’s parents. They were shaking their heads no, vigorously and waving their arms for me to stop. I ignored them and answered, “Both of them have a good bit on their faces. And by their walk and the way I think they got it ... It is reasonable to assume they have it in other places as well.”

“They used the leaves as toilet paper, didn’t they?” Dorothy asked.

“I think so, but you’d have to ask Helen,” I answered, deflecting.

“It’s OK. I was young once and did that when I went camping with a boyfriend once,” Dorothy said.

Having seen Dorothy at church and when she came to get Helen, I knew she was still a very attractive woman. “You’re not that old now.” I stated, hoping she wouldn’t go any further about her previous boyfriend while her daughter was listening.

“You’re sweet,” Dorothy said. I swear I could hear her blushing on the other end of the call. She recovered, saying, “No, I’ll come to get her. You’ve been way more than kind to take her camping, and I don’t want her wearing out her welcome.”

“Don’t worry, she isn’t. As I told your husband, she’s a sweet, polite young lady,” I commented. Cheryl, on hearing the compliment of her friend, grabbed her own throat, stuck out her tongue, and acted like she was choking. Helen, on the other hand, made her hands into a halo over her head and smirked at Cheryl while she danced around. Containing my laughter, I ended the call with, “I’ll tell them you’re coming after Helen.”

“Thanks, John. I look forward to seeing you then,” Dorothy said. It was a strange way to end the call. I put it off to Dorothy’s way of being polite.

The driveway buzzer went off about an hour later. The blonde teen whined to me first, “Does Helen have to go?”

The brunette followed it up, “Yeah, do I have to go? I want to stay here.”

“Your mom will be here in a minute to take you home,” I said to Helen. She was still in my sweatpants and one of my t-shirts that hung loosely. I noticed the circles that should have been a light pink that wouldn’t have been visible had it not been for the poison ivy. They were now dark red and definitely discernible. “And don’t forget to bring my clothes back when you come back. I swear you two have more of my sweats than I do.”
“Fine,” Helen said with a grump and a frown. She looked all the more pathetic with the red rash going up over her cheeks. In the next instant, when I didn’t give any indication that her unhappiness was my problem, she quit the grumpy. She instead grinned, coming to me. She grabbed a bicep and, on her toes, gave me a quick kiss. It took me by surprise, as she had never instigated a kiss out of the blue before. And while short. It wasn’t so short that it wouldn’t have raised eyebrows had it been seen by someone other than Cheryl. “Thanks for the fun few days. Maybe we can do it again later this summer.”

Blushing, stuttering, and stammering, I said, “S ... Sure. I ... I guess so.” On the far side of the room, I could hear Cheryl laughing at my difficulties in thinking straight. Helen literally skipped off across the room to Cheryl. Once there, I saw she was once again waddling when she thought she was out of sight.

I was still a bit red in the face when the knock on the door happened. Cheryl and Helen were in Cheryl’s room by the time I opened the door. I had to do a double-take to realize it was Dorothy and not Jane in the doorway. I had seen Dorothy at church many times and had thought she could be an attractive woman. But she always came in matronly dresses with no makeup, her shoulders hunched and looking down. The Dorothy in my doorway was not that woman. She wasn’t attractive; she was downright sexy.

She was in a blue dress. I had seen Jane in a couple of times at church. The woman at my door, though, didn’t have a bra on. Her breasts dropped down into teardrops, and the fabric was just light enough for a bit of a bump to form where her nipples were upturned. The top of the blue dress crossed in her ample cleavage, but without a bra, it dipped further down on Dorothy than it had on Jane in church. It also hugged the drop in the teardrops, lifting them slightly.

At church, she had always worn dresses that were straight with her curved hips. Now in the dress for someone half her age, it snuggly wrapped her small waist, flaring out beautifully along her hips. And despite having borne two girls, the front only had a slight rise at her pelvis. It was the fact that the dress didn’t even come to mid-thigh that caught my attention. Had Jane worn a dress that short, everyone would’ve noticed.

It was upon further looking down at the hemline of the dress that I saw it wasn’t as defined as it should have been. On a more critical look, I could tell an iron had been recently run over the bottom of the dress, and there were random straight silver lines. The same lines were up around the belt that held the dress tight to her waist. At that moment, I understood she had pinned the dress up short before coming to see me.

In that same moment, when my eyes had finished taking in her legs and the low-cut boots on her feet made her look half her age, I looked at her face closely. It was as pretty as Jane’s or Helen’s. She had the same type of button nose and smooth, subtle cheekbones, unlike Cheryl’s high ones. Her eyes were deep and still a dark brown, but missing were the dark circles many times found in such deep-set eyes. And her smile was as quick as Helen’s. And I couldn’t help but notice the hairspray that was keeping her perfectly crafted brunette hair in place.

In the time it took Dorothy to say, “Hi John,” the confidence she had come with was gone. She now had a nervous, uneasy smile and looked to me like a cornered bird looking for any way to fly away. Whatever her original idea was, it was gone in a flash. Even her posture changed, gaining a bit of a slouch. But she was still absolutely beautiful.
Trying not to stare or make her more uncomfortable, I said, “Come in. I’ll have Helen ready in a moment.” As she hesitantly stepped in the door so I could shut it, I added, “You don’t mind me saying so. You look exceptionally nice today. You always look nice at church, and I think I’ve seen Jane wear that dress to church. But it looks so much better on you. So it must be the person.”

A bit of her confidence returned as she blushed. She stood back up slightly straighter, not de-emphasizing her body as much. She still had a less forceful volume and tone when she said, “Thank you, John. You’re so nice for saying so.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded. “You care to take a seat. And can I get you anything to drink while we wait for Helen to actually get a move on? I have coffee, coke, water, and while it is past twelve, wine or liquor if you would like some.” After seeing the roundness of her ass as she passed, I knew I wanted to lick her from her cute dangling earlobe down to where her dress ended. I would take extra time at her tits and, hopefully, what wasn’t a granny panty-covered slit.

I hadn’t expected her to say it, but still standing relatively close to me, she said, “It’s not a long drive, so how about a gin and tonic?”

Feeling bad, I had to admit, “I have the gin but not the tonic.”

“Then gin over ice,” Dorothy said, though close, looking like she could run away at any moment.

Getting back from the kitchen with two tumbles with ice, I poured her a double gin and me a Bourbon. Handing her the glass, she walked around a bit, looking at the living room, before going to the couch Cheryl had slept on for months. I sat in my chair, watching her intently as she walked and looked at the few pictures and knick-knacks Cheryl had insisted were necessary to look like a normal family. At that moment, I was glad she had.

Dorothy had finished three-quarters of her drink before heading to the couch. As she did, she initially failed to take into consideration the length of the dress. I only glanced at her thighs for a second as she sat down, not looking at me but looking for a place to put her empty glass as she sat. The glance revealed she was not wearing granny panties under the dress. She was wearing none. Her brown bush was neatly shaved short and covered her fat outer labia, which, despite her age, only had a whisp of darker colored thin folds peeking out from between them.

The lack of undergarments was a sure-fire sign she had come over for more than just picking up Helen. And she knew Helen would take a good amount of time before she would be in the car. And despite that, Dorothy started off with the usual small talk. “You know, I’ve never been in your house before. I really like it. Did you do all the decorating?”

“No, that was Cheryl. If it was just me, I would have a bed, a pot, and a candle. Or that is what she says.” I joked. Dorothy again began looking nervous and reached for her empty glass. “Would you care for another?” I asked.

She gave it a moment’s thought and evidently would be using gin as liquid courage. “Sure, I guess so. I don’t have to be back home for a while, and Helen won’t be ready for a while.”

Sensing Dorothy really wanted to be alone with me for some reason, and her uncovered cunt and braless tits said it might be for sex. I got up, noticing her thighs were once again parted so I could see up her dress and her dark pubes. I didn’t keep my eyes on the sight, continuing to get up, as if I hadn’t seen her pussy or wasn’t interested if I had.

At the bar, pouring Dorothy’s next double, I said, “Helen is ready to go. She just doesn’t want to. So why don’t I have Cheryl drive her home, and she can stay there until you get back? That way, we can talk for awhile and get to know each other a bit better. After all, Helen spends probably half her time here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry she does that,” Dorothy said, taking the refilled drink from me.

“She’s a joy to have around. And she keeps Cheryl occupied, which is nice,” I said, explaining part of why it was nice having Helen around.

Getting back around to my original suggestion, Dorothy asked, “How can Cheryl drive Helen home? She is only fourteen, isn’t she?”

“The sheriff and I have an understanding that we don’t talk about. So please don’t say anything to anyone. But Cheryl can drive on a very limited basis to very limited places since I have to travel for work. And I’ve had her show him she is more than capable of handling a car and responsible enough to drive on a limited basis. And as your house is on the way to one of the places she can drive, I think she can do it today.” I explained.

“Oh wow. But you do have a way with people,” she said, taking another drink of courage.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said to her. And left off; “Those I don’t have a way with don’t get to complain about it.” Then loudly, I bellowed, “Girls, get out here.”

The sound of four feet was heard before the two bodies came into view. Their presence was followed by “Yes, John,” and “Yes, Mr. Wick.” No more had the words come out of their rash-covered faces did their heads turn to Dorothy sitting on the couch. Initially, I could see Helen fuming, thinking the person on the couch was Jane. It was Jane’s dress after all. But she quickly calmed down, seeing it was her mom, though she got a look of confusion shortly thereafter.

Cheryl didn’t so much fume, but a hint of the green-eyed monster crept into her look. She was much faster to notice how much of Dorothy’s thighs were showing and how her cleavage was open to mid-breast, not at all like a normal day. She was still looking Helen’s mom up and down, trying, like me, to ascertain why the woman was dressed so impeccably sexy. I diverted her attention back to me, saying, “Dorothy and I are going to talk for a while. I think she’s concerned about the amount of time Helen spends here.” I said, priming the pump for little resistance, at the next thing I’d say, “So we thought it would be good for you to drive Helen home and get dinner ready over at her house like you two do here, while we talk about it. And you’ve been hurranging me about driving, so now is your chance.”

It had been framed, so they couldn’t say no or whine about leaving. Cheryl knew it too. So instead, she smiled and jumped up and down the best she could under the circumstances and said, “Yeah, I get to drive.” Looking at Helen, she said, “Come on, hurry up before he changes his mind.”

Dorothy started shaking her head. “Did you see what those girls had on?”

“Yeah, and I wish they would quit raiding my draws, taking all my sweatpants and t-shirts,” I said. I understood that she meant something completely different. She was referring to the fact that the old t-shirts were threadbare and were fairly see-through. I figured if I played dumb and oblivious to her daughter’s tits being basically on display, she would continue to buy into the notion, I was gay.

Dorothy said nothing more about it and downed her drink as I went into some detail about our camping trip. I explained about teaching Cheryl the basic strokes. While doing so, the two being discussed trotted through their legs, staying wide apart. Cheryl did one last look at Dorothy as she left. If she got an eyeful of Dorothy’s cunt, she didn’t let on. Only Helen did say, “Damn Mom, you’re looking better than usual. Is this going to be a new thing?”

“Maybe, now get. You need to go get out of John’s clothes and put on something more appropriate.” Dorothy said to her daughter, not seeing the irony, that her pussy was there for the viewing.

I continued to act as if I didn’t know what she was talking about. In that vein, I said, “When you change out at home, please give them to Cheryl. I will need to wash them before anyone uses them again.”

“Ok, Mr. Wick. Thanks again. I had fun,” Helen said, following Cheryl out the door to the station wagon.

When the sound of the engine had completely dissipated, Dorothy asked, “You really didn’t notice that?”

“Notice what? The rash up her face or the strange way they are walking. Either is kind of hard to miss,” I continued, acting oblivious to the puffy nipples that were poking out of the shirt.

Dorothy must not have wanted to be the one to talk about Helen’s tits. If I hadn’t brought them up first, she instead went with my observation. “Yes, it is.”

“You said you made the same mistake camping once. Not to be indelicate, but how long did it take you to start walking normally again and no longer have it on your face? When I had it, I went to the beach, and it cleared up in a week.”

“Oh, I only walked funny, and it seemed to go on forever. It was my brother, Paul. You don’t know him, but he is coming into town. But he is using his professional name, Reverend Downey, over at Calvary Baptist. He got that same type of rash on his face.” The words had barely crossed her lips when she realized how the girls got the rash on their faces. “Oh ... So the girls...” her voice trailed off.

Seeing there was a story there, I said, “I thought you said you were camping with your boyfriend when you made your mistake.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she said again, looking into her glass of courage. She then leaned in, her legs spreading wider, and the down-dress view showed most of her breast and the hard nub on top. Her question seemed to be out of nowhere. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked, having no idea what she was asking.

“Have me reveal a secret even my husband, Frank, doesn’t know,” Dorothy stated, embarrassed.

“I don’t really know. But your secrets are safe with me,” I answered honestly.

“Good, ‘cause I have a big favor to ask. And while you don’t know me really well, I feel you won’t judge me too harshly when I ask.” The meekness crept back into her voice as she hemmed and hawed, not actually asking me anything.

“You can ask me anything. The worst that can happen is that I say no. But I won’t judge,” I stated, hoping she would get to her question.

Still beating around the bush, she started with, “I know Jane says you’re a homosexual since you have not acknowledged or reciprocated the passes she has thrown at you. But I don’t get that same vibe sitting here talking to you. I think maybe you are reserved.”

“Thanks,” I said, thinking she would at some point ask me for the favor. The way she was going about it, she was doing everything but asking. I thought she had somehow found out what I really did and wanted me to kill someone or make them disappear.

I was floored when she said, “Will you have sexual relations with me and put a baby in my belly? I know I’m old and not all that pretty, or even close in the looks department to the women or men you have sex with. But I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Slowly, she stood up, not looking up at me. She raised up the pinned skirt. With her pussy now fully visible, the brown curls covering her cunt were everywhere. She nervously took a step, widening her silky, toned thighs, causing more of her thin lips to peek out from between her furry outer pussy lips. “I’ll do whatever you want after you plant your seed and breed me. I understand men like having their...” She struggled with the next word, and her voice trembled and cracked as she said, “dicks sucked or putting them in women’s buttholes. I understand there is even a place in New York. I think it is called the Hellfire Club, where men can whip and beat women for their pleasure. I’d even do that if you’ll breed me now.”