Part XX - Practices So Perverse

“Randy!”

Randal Blavin’s consciousness struggled up out of the darkness of deep sleep, fighting all the way to ignore the voice nagging him.

“Randy! Wake up!”

“Uhhh ... not now, Mom. I--I’m sick. Can’t go to ... to school ... uhhh...”

“RA-” Tia Jalone, the one attempting to rouse the boy, had been about to scream, but the sixteen year old brunette stopped herself, lest her father Steve Jalone somehow manage to hear her from the house.

After I went to so much trouble to get rid of Daddy, that’s all I need, to bring him back by screaming the name of the pants-less teenage boy lying on the attic floor of our tool shed!

So she kicked Blavin in the side instead.

“Ouch! J-Jeez, Mom.” his eyelids fluttered, “Those ... those magazines ... they aren’t mine.”

“Get up, you dork!”

“I ... I don’t know why the bedsheets are sticky-”

“Randy! You bastard!” Tia had stooped and grabbed his left ear, twisting it hard.

“OWWW!” he jerked up onto his feet, eyes wide, “What the fucking HELL?!”

“Quiet!” she punched him in the gut, making him stagger back, doubling over.

“Wow...” he gagged, “y-you hit pretty h-hard for a little girl.”

“I kick pretty hard in the nuts too, wanna see?”

“No!”

“Then pull up your pants, super-perv, and get the heck outa my tool shed and off my property! Or else I’m gonna kick your goodies into next week!”

He scrambled his pants back on, belted them tightly, then dashed past her, catching up his father’s camera as he went, not even daring to glance at the still unconscious blonde girl lying trussed up on the old couch in the center of the attic play area.

“And you were never here!” Tia growled after him.

“Nope! Never!”

“You say nothing!”

“Nope! Nothing at all!” he sent back as he pounded down the rickety steps, “How could I? I was never here, right? Right!”

“Right...” Tia replied to the empty room as she listened to Randy pull open the door to the shed.

She turned and peered out the window as Randy emerged and crept forward along the length of the hedge separating her property from the Heterson’s. What an idiot, she laid a hand on the glass and watched him search for a break in the tall hedge. Can I trust Blavin to keep quiet? Hah! Never thought I’d ever try using the word “trust” and “Blavin” in the same sentence. That’ll surely tear a hole in the fabric of reality, if nothing else does. Nope, I’m going to have to call him later and put the fear of Daddy into him, just to make sure he keeps his mouth shut.

She pulled her hand from the window and frowned, “Huh?”

A stick milky substance clung to it. What the--uhhh! GROSS!

“RANDY!” she seethed, then with a disgusted sigh she turned away...

Kev is NEVER going to believe ANY of this!

Randy felt along the hedge, looking for a proper-sized gap, eager to get through and find his best friend. He had so much to tell him, not that Kev would ever believe any of it. Nope, there was just no way. But I have just GOT to tell him! Wow, I wish I had thought to take a picture of some part of it. What was I thinking?! Tia was topless in her back yard getting hosed down! And I had a camera nearby, complete with telephoto lens, but did I go get it? Nope!

I’m a friggin idiot, yep...

He found a gap and pushed bodily through, scrambled out of the hedge and into the Heterson’s back yard. He got back on his feet and slung the heavy camera over his shoulder, locked his gaze on the back door and made to bolt for it. I hope Kev is home alone, Randy puffed out a breath, but then he jerked to a halt as the knob turned and the door swung back.

And it wasn’t Kev Heterson who stepped free of the house, carrying a tall glass of cola in one hand, a bottle of tanning lotion in the other. Nope, it definitely wasn’t his friend, ‘cause Kev wasn’t much for wearing purple string bikinis.

Ho-lee-fuck!

Randy darted to the left and dashed to the cover of the side of the house, slipping into the lovely dark shadows of the noon day sun just as Kev’s incredible-looking Auntie Dale kicked the door shut behind her and strode off for the pool.

Skinny dip! Skinny dip!

But then Randy quit the silent prayer as he remembered her drink and lotion again. But that was still good, right?

“Right!” he whispered, dick amazingly getting hard in his jeans again. He raised the camera and pointed it’s telephoto lens at the oblivious blonde, began snapping off pics.

Dale daintily set the drink and bottle down on either armrest of the waiting deck chair, then bent over it, brushing pine needles from it’s seat, giving Randy a perfect angle on her perfect heart-shaped ass.

She might as well be naked! He revelled at the thin purple string knifing between her completely bare behind, her wonderfully protruding cheeks glistening bronze in the hot wavering air.

I would give anything to pound that shit!

Dale Solcord sat on the chair and stretched out her long, shapely legs, picked up the bottle and popped it’s cap, squeezed out some of the yellow cream on her palm.

Oh mama! Randy’s permanently crooked grin widened hugely as she began to slowly and luxuriously spread the cream on her thighs.

Click-click-click! went the camera in his hands, taking in every movement. He could actually see the pores on her skin opening, the view was so sharp. She should be in Sports Illustrated, look at that body! I wanna cum on those angelic tits. Dude, oh, dude!

And as if obeying his mental cries, Dale finished up her legs and reaching behind her neck she tugged the knot loose. With a flutter of spaghetti strings the top of her bikini fell to her taut stomach, exposing her full and luscious breasts to the baking air of the unending Danover heatwave.

FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!

Randy’s tongue lulled out the side of his mouth and his knees went rubbery as his fingertip churned on the camera’s button, snapping pic-after-pic of Kev Heterson’s bare-chested Auntie Dale.

His free hand dropped to the front of this jeans and rubbed at his painful erection, rose and slid under the denim, took firm hold of his aching cock and began to

“Whatcha doin?”

Randy froze and the fist around his dick clenched tight, sending pain shooting through his groin. Grunting, he jerked and dropped the camera. His Dad’s pride-and-joy thousand dollar camera.

But a foot from the unforgiving lawn a fleet hand snaked down and caught it by the telephoto lens, stopping it’s plunge toward destruction and preventing Randy’s swift and merciless execution at the hand of his father, probably involving his dick and a guillotine. Which was probably pretty close to the feeling he was getting right now!

“Ow!” he hissed and yanked his hand free of his jeans, leaving his loins throbbing as if Tia Jalone had made good with her threat to kick in his nuts.

He pivoted around and stared slack-jawed at the unexpected arrival who was now standing beside him.

She was his age, well pretty close, just a year younger. She was almost a foot shorter then his five-foot-eleven, a redhaired reed of a girl with pale complexion despite the amazing sunlight that had been cooking the town for almost a month now. Perky freckles dusted the bridge of her button nose and her hazel eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Wha--Kat?!”

“Randy Blavin, what the heck are you doin?” demanded Katrina Nierce as she hitched the heavy blue canvas sack higher upon her narrow shoulders. She was the neighbourhood papergirl and resident snoop.

Yikes, scowled Randy, beginning to sweat, this aint good...

“Um ... Kat ... what are you doing coming around the side of the, uh, Heterson house?”

“Nobody was answering the front door and they owe me for four weeks.” replied the just-turned sixteen year old as she stared down at the jutting tent of his jeans, “Hey, were you jacking it?! You were! Gross! And out in public?! What a pervie thing to do!”