“It’s so hot,” Jo-Jo says.

“We could go out for ice cream,” Joe suggests. “Should we ask Amy?”

“I think Amy’s at a movie with Brad,” Jo-Jo says. “Anyway, it’s too hot for ice cream.”

“How ‘bout a slushie?”

“Mm, yeah, a slushie.”

“I could make you a slushie.”

“Yeah, make me a slushie.”

Joe starts peeling down Jo-Jo’s shorts and panties.

“What’s this?” Jo-Jo says.

“Hush,” Joe says, “I’m making you a slushie.” He pushes Jo-Jo back on the couch. He kneels before her and arranges her legs over his shoulders. He opens her cunt with his tongue. He licks and laps and sucks until Jo-Jo moans and mewls and her sap begins to flow—rivers of sweet hot slush.

“I’m ready for my ice cream now,” Jo-Jo says some forty minutes later.

“Ice cream?” Joe says. “You’re insatiable.”

Jo-Jo grins. “I want a big fat cone of creamy vanilla. A double-scooper.”

“Vanilla, eh?” Joe says.

Jo-Jo grins. “You think I should try something more exotic? More adventurous?”

But at the drive-in Jo-Jo chooses vanilla. A double scoop.

She licks and Joe smiles.

“Wanna go up to Spartan Hill and neck?” Jo-Jo asks.

“Neck?”

“Neck and pet.” Jo-Jo says. She takes a long slow lick of her ice cream. Her tongue is creamy white. “Neck and pet and fuck.”

“Mm,” Joe says. On the drive up Spartan Hill Road Jo-Jo finishes her cone while unzipping Joe’s pants. By the time they get to the top of Spartan Hill, his cock is out and stiff in Jo-Jo’s hand. The turnaround is just over the crest. Joe slows. Another car is there. Joe stops.

“Oh, dear,” Jo-Jo whispers. Her thumb stops playing in the ruffle of Joe’s foreskin. “That’s Brad’s car, isn’t it?”

Joe nods.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Joe whispers back. No one is visible in Brad’s car, but it is rocking, a steady, rhythmic rock. Joe’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He eases the car into reverse and backs it beyond the crest, then turns around and drives slowly down the hill.

“Do you think we should have... ?” Jo-Jo says. Her fingers are still on Joe’s cock, but it is soft now.

“Should have what?”

“I don’t know ... Stopped them?”

“We were her age. Younger. When we ... when we first started doing it.”

“I know. I know, but still ... So should we say anything to her?”

“What could we say? They’re in love.”

“We were in love,” Jo-Jo says. “That’s where Amy got her start.”

“We’re still in love,” Joe says. He guns the engine.

They drive the rest of the way home in silence. Joe unlocks the door. He and Jo-Jo go inside. Sitting on the living room couch with her feet up, Amy is watching TV and eating a dish of ice cream. Vanilla.