Chapter 15: Shannon Trudeau Was Curious...

Shannon Trudeau was curious — how much of Sausalito would tune in to listen to Magnolia Babineaux’s third time on the show? She had no doubt it would be a healthy percentage, even though almost everyone knew what to expect. Magnolia had gone from jacking her son off to oral sex. What else was left?

Of course town residents weren’t the only listeners. Almost every family in the Cajun Bayous had a little kitchen radio. They listened for the Cajun music that WZYD played 24 hours a day. Occasional breaks for news and weather. And, of course, Shannon Says — 15 minutes of mostly smut every Monday morning.

That Magnolia jerked Hawk off hadn’t been news down there for months and months. Magnolia hadn’t been the first mother to jack a boy or two off. The practice wasn’t rampant, but it certainly wasn’t unusual either. Anything to keep their daughters from getting knocked up.

And, Magnolia had made no secret of it when she started sucking Hawk off. While not as common as masturbation, a motherly blowjob didn’t shock anyone, not down in the Cajun Bayous. Yes, it was more common for mom to assign hummer duty to one of her daughters. But some girls were too young, some mothers didn’t trust their daughters, some mothers didn’t have a daughter.

No one bothered to track the numbers — that would have been impossible — but most women knew, or knew of, at least one mother who sucked off her boy, or boys, at bedtime.

Life was hard in the bayous, and the residents, particularly the women, were pragmatic. They faced reality unflinchingly. Of course there were a few, like Magnolia, who reveled in the naughtiness, who got off on the forbidden.

Now when Sabine let Magnolia marry Hawk ... well, that was news. It hadn’t been the first mother/son coupling down in the bayous, but it was still very rare. And, it was certainly the first to be openly celebrated with a big party.

Shannon Trudeau was a good-enough interviewer, about average. But she had real talent for not only turning any conversation obscene, but doing it in such a matter-of-fact manner that it made the topic seem reasonable. Because the station’s reach was so limited, she had little fear of the FCC’ ever even noticing her show.

“Good morning, Sausalito! This is the one you’ve been waiting for — Magnolia Babineaux is once again gracing us with her presence. And she’s here to talk about her very spirited love live. Or is it your sex life, Magnolia?”

“Well, both I guess. I mean, you can’t have love without sex, can you?”

“Good point, very good point. Now let’s see ... the first time you were here, you discussed the rampant hard-on problem down in the Cajun Bayous.”

“Yes ma’am, it’s a problem goin’ back ever since I kin remember. Our boys running around with hard-ons, day and night. Which ain’t no problem, but, it was them boys see, they eyeing they sisters, looking for handy pussy.”

“And you came up with a perfectly reasonable solution.”

“That’s right, me an’ a buncha other moms, we start jacking them off, our boys.”

“A natural reaction, one that probably every mother in Sausalito can identify with. But boys, teenage boys, are always wanting more, aren’t they?”

“They sure are! Now I ain’t the first mama to come up with the idea, but the minute Sabine gave me the okay, I was sucking Hawk off an’ not jess at bedtime — any time he need it, me.”

“Remind our viewers ... Hawk?”

“He’s my son, jess turned 15, ‘bout as sexy a boy as they is.”

“And you said Sabine gave you the go-ahead. Tell Sausalito about this Sabine.”

“Ever’ one knows Sabine Babineaux! She the head of our family, been running things since she was 7, 8, Sabine.”

“And she gave you permission to suck your son off.”

“Yeah, she smart, Sabine. She see Hawk ain’t gonna stay happy with jess handjobs. So she tell me, Sabine, “Mama you go ahead an’ suck his cock, many times as he wants it.”

“But, Magnolia, Magnolia dear, even that turned out to be not quite enough, didn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am. An’ I didn’t have to point it out, Sabine. She saw with her own two eyes, that girl. She tell me, Mama, we gotta face us some facts, that’s what we gotta do.”

“Yes, it is important to confront reality head on.”

“She tole me, you go ahead and marry that boy, Mama. Hawk.”

“She gave you permission to marry your son?”

“Exactly right! We had a big party at the Bayou Bar an’ Bank, an’ then she showed Hawk how to put on a rubber so ever’ thing is done proper.”

“She doesn’t want Hawk to knock you up.”

“No ma’am, she real strict ‘bout that, Sabine.”

“Very sensible. Tell me, Magnolia, tell all of Sausalito, what is it like to fuck your own son?”

“It like heaven! Best fucking I ever had, me. Jasmine an’ Fleur? They tell me my face lights up like a Christmas tree, Hawk fucks me. I can’t get enough, that boy’s cock, me.”

“I am so happy for you, Magnolia Babineaux. I know that the mothers of Sausalito are just so envious. And you boys out there listening — you boys take a good close look at your moms. I wonder how many of them are secretly wanting to fuck you.”

Magnolia nodded her head vigorously, “You so right, Miss Shannon. They ain’t nothin’ like young boy-cock.”

“So true, Magnolia, so true. Now, before we close out we have one more special guest this morning — Miss Kate Broussard, owner and manager of Miss Kitty’s. Kate, what is your surprise announcement?”

“We are so pleased — honored really — to announce that Magnolia Babineaux will be performing on stage this very Friday night. Magnolia, the mother of five and the wife of one of them.”

Shannon, “Okay, Sausalito, this is your chance to see the girl who fucks her own son. Live and up close. See the hands that jerk him off, the mouth that sucks him off, the cunt that he fucks whenever he wants.”

Kate, “Magnolia will be working the nine o’clock and 11 o’clock shows. She can’t wait to show you everything she has.”

Shannon, “And I bet you can’t wait to take Sausalito back to the Blowjob Room, right, honey?”

Magnolia was clearly startled by the unanticipated question, “Uh, I don’ know about that, ‘bout sucking cocks. See, I’m a married woman now.”

Kate stepped smoothly in, “But dear, if Hawk wants you to consider the financial aspect — you know, money to put food on the table?”

Clearly relieved, Magnolia said, “Oh yeah, money. I ain’t about to let Hawk starve to death, no ma’am. I’ll be pleased, me, sucking cocks.” She nodded judiciously, “Long as Hawk tells me ... well, I ain’t got no choice, me.”

Shannon, “Twice a night, this Friday night. Magnolia Babineaux, the girl who fucks her own son, will suck you guys off right after the nine o’clock and 11 o’clock sets.”

Magnolia jumped in, “An’ I swallow cum, you can take that to the bank!”

Ray-Ray smiled at Danny Boy. “Start inviting your friends over to watch Denise’s sex tapes.”

“Oh sure.” He was becoming about as compliant to Ray-Ray as his mother was. It had begun to feel normal, natural, to follow the confident boy’s directions.

Ray-Ray turned to Denise, “You watch it with them, honey. Tell ‘em what it felt like, how hard you came, like that.”

She nodded emphatically, “Of course.”

The Cajun Bayous took Magnolia’s third interview calmly. There was only one minor controversy. Two women who were getting a ‘Sabine’ at the Bayou Bar got into a light argument.

“That Magnolia, she woulda been crazy not to go to that Blowjob Room.”

“That’s right, who could afford to turn down $40, just for sucking a guy off?”

“Plus tips.”

“Naw, I don’ believe that, me. No guy gonna pay that much an’tip at the same time.”

“I heard they tip an’ tip good. Five, maybe even ten dollars.”

“Them Babineaux twins do it for one dollar. An’ that goes a long way down here.”

The tipping question forgotten, he friend giggled, “I was their age, I used to do it for a quarter me.”

“Yep, them quarters add up.”

“Mama, you remember her, she was real strict with me. She tell me. ever’ time I go out with a boy, don’t you come home with less than a quarter, no.”

“She raised you proper.”

Slim Hebert loved her new cell phone. Well, loved the idea of it more than anything. She wasn’t yet really familiar with it yet. She was dying to show CC what she thought of as her cum-video, but Sabine had told her to wait until she was there too.

Dutifully, she called Sabine every morning from the Bayou Bar after she dropped CC off at school. Sabine had told her pussy-waxers, “Shampoo Slim’s hair ever’ day. She workin’ for me now.”

Mainly though, Slim was in a state of anticipation. She had no idea what Sabine had in store for her. And, she now understood that Sabine herself was uncertain. But that just made her speculations even more delicious.

Whatever it turned out to be, Slim was sure it would involve sex. And, with her now-heightened libido ... well, she was more than ready for her next adventure.

Slim was now looking at William through different eyes. Which saddened her a little. He was a good guy, a really good guy. She had only fucked around on him twice over all these years. She hadn’t felt guilty back then, just a little sorry for him.

These days, as she waited for Sabine, she was giving her husband more sex than ever. Good, robust, fuck-me! sex. However, because she knew it would please Sabine, she started concentrating on CC — what he looked like, his cute little bulge, his wildly throbbing erection that time in the shower. But most of all, while William was fucking eagerly away, she pictured CC as she masturbated him.

Last time, as William was spurting into her pussy, she was able to picture — quite clearly — CC’s cum arching up, peaking, and splattering down.

There had been no repeat of the act; in fact Slim was keeping her pussy covered these days. But once in a while, behind her husband’s back, she’d give CC a little squeeze, “Miss me?”

She also tried to find a private moment at his bedtime. She’d whisper, “Think of me and jack off, honey.”

Slim made her daily call from the Bayou Bar. Sabine said, “We goin’ on a boat ride this morning.”

“Where to?”

“You’ll see.”

“I ain’t wearing a top, me.”

“Don’ matter.”

As Sabine piloted her Jon boat through the twisty passageways, meandering east and west, back and forth, she kept the heading in a southerly direction.

Slim said, “We heading to Celine Boudreaux’s, right?”

“That’s right.”

They arrived around 8, while the sun was still rising. Celine and her three sons, so tan and slender and gleaming with sweat, were, of course naked. Celine, like Slim, was tall for a Cajun girl. She was sipping a breakfast Dixie on the deck of her fishing boat as the boys were tightening cleats on the rails.

Sabine and Slim gratefully accepted beers. Sabine looked around, “Where’s Hank? Hanky?”

“I done gave him to Roseanne Arceneaux. Permanent.”

Sabine shrugged; she could care less. She teased Celine, “Ain’t you afraid your boys gonna get some ideas, no other pussy around?

Celine snorted, “They do as they told.” She shrugged too, “Plus, I pay Mr. Romero, bring the twins out here once a week or so.”

“Good, I’m glad he’s gettin’ some use outta them, me.” Sabine gave Slim, who was cheerfully eyeing the boys, an elbow nudge. Slim gave a little jump like she’d been goosed, and slid her thong off, “Sorry, Sabine, wasn’t thinking.”

Celine grinned at Sabine, “You travel with your own pussy, these days?”

“I was hoping for a favor, Miss Celine.”

No hesitation, “Get yourselves ready, boys. Mrs. Slim Hebert here wants some cock.”

Slim colored slightly, but more in excitement than embarrassment. Sabine helped Celine wheel over a chaise lounge with fat cushions. They adjusted it so that it lay flat.

Slim limply lay down and pulled her knees back by her shoulders. She looked as obscenely ready as she felt. Celine reached down and fingered her. Slim moaned softly. Celine nodded to her sons, “She’s ripe.”

Celine and Sabine sipped a second beer as they watched the eager boys devour Slim. While she was being fucked, the other two would play with her clit, suck her nipples. The boys’ stamina was impressive, their recovery time even more so.

As each one shot his load, the next one would slide right in. Slim was sopping wet, the slurping sounds were almost as loud as her squeals and yelps of pleasure.

Sabine had known exactly what Slim had needed — it was pure sex, animal sex. No foreplay, no sweet talk, nothing but cock after cock after cock plunging into to the hungry woman.

As she usually did when her boys were involved with sex, Celine languidly played with herself, often timing her little orgasms to the spurts of one of her sons.

When Sabine called a halt to the festivities, Slim just lay there, gasping for breath, a wet puddle. Eventually she sat up, “Thank you, Celine, so much.”

Shrug, “You know where we live.”

On the drive back home, Slim said, “How did you know?”

“I learned to read the signs from Mama.”

“Well, I thank you, with all my heart. That was the best fucking I ever had.” She frowned momentarily, “You know them boys’ names?”

“No, I never heard ‘em, me. Jess the Boudreaux boys.”

“God, I loved it!”

“Next time, you take CC.”

Slim giggled, “You wan’ him to watch me getting fucked?”

“I do.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“An’ Celine gonna give him some pussy, CC. You get him hard, Slim, guide him into her, like that.”

“Yes ma’am!”

As they meandered back to the populated areas of the Cajun Bayous, Slim said, “Hey, I forgot my thong. Oh well, I got more at home.”

Sabine piloted the boat to the Bayou Bar & Bank. Slim just giggled. They walked up the stairs into the main room. Rather than head for Cunts Corner to get another thong, Slim strode over to the bar, smiled at Sinéad, “Two beers, please.”

Slim turned, facing the room, and leaned back against the bar. She loved the hungry eyes racing up and down her body, stopping to focus on her bald little pussy. Even though she still felt that just-fucked glow, she became a little moist from all the attention. Sabine registered the fact.

Back home, William had already been fading away in her mind. Clearly her future lay with Sabine. Hers and CC’s. What Slim hadn’t been aware of ... Sabine had shot dozens of short clips of the Boudreaux boys fucking and sucking her. That would make a nice surprise present one of these days. And, not that far in the future, Sabine would be shooting Slim and CC, just the two of them.

The art of manipulation.

Sabine was gradually turning some of her responsibilities over to Slim. Who would now unhesitatingly do whatever the little girl told her to.

Hence, Slim was on her way, making her rounds in the Cajun Bayous, visiting with folks, observing, remembering. Sabine, as had Eulalie, called it taking the temperature. Slim wore only panties or a thong — tops were now history.

She stopped at Mr. Romero’s around 10 in the morning. Asked how the twins, Debbie and Dora, were doing.

“Real good, Miss Slim, real good. They got a regular blowjob route, bring home some good money, yes ma’am.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I send ‘em out ‘round 6 ever’ evening. They got ‘round 20 houses they call on, see who wants a blowjob.”

“They naked, them twins?”

“Acourse, that’s what Miss Sabine said. Buck fucking naked. ‘Cept at school, then they wear panties.”

“How much do they bring home?”

“I don’ let ‘em come back in less they got ten dollars.”

Slim nodded, “Sounds fair. But what if they jess got 8 or 9 dollars?”

“I send ‘em to the Bayou Bar.”

“Of course.”

A couple of days later, on her rounds, she stopped at the little one-room schoolhouse. She was wearing a new thong — flesh-colored. As she was visiting with Jonny LeBlank, she was pleased to note that all of the boys, and most of the girls, were staring at her, glancing at CC, back to her.

It wasn’t just her bare tits, she understood that. The temperature was 102 and several of the girls were topless. As had been many of the mothers who had dropped their kids off.

No, Slim knew that she was considered the sexiest woman in the bayous. And now Sabine was bringing it out more than ever.

Three guys in their 20s, their boat stuffed with fishing gear, clomped up the steps of the pier. Jonny smiled at them, and glanced over to his students. Debbie and Dora Babineaux stood up and walked out the classroom door, not saying a word.

Slim watched with amusement as the twins slid their panties off, walked down the steps to the dock, and sat on their butts, cross-legged. No one in the classroom commented, or even bothered to watch as they sucked the fishermen off.

Didn’t take long, then they retrieved their panties. Debbie put three one-dollar bills inside hers, and they returned to school, sat down at their desks. The twins didn’t seem perturbed, didn’t seem embarrassed. Giving blowjobs was no more of an issue than opening their lunch boxes and eating a po’ boy.

Slim thought about them as she headed for her next stop.

They simply weren’t that bright, Debbie and Dora. Sabine had been right to give them away. They were just as placidly content living with Mr. Romero as they had been at home.

They were a little plump, but pretty all the same. Slim knew that Sabine could have whored them out, made a few bucks for herself, but that was thinking small. Sabine was trying, as Slim was now, to see Sausalito and the Cajun Bayous as part of a bigger picture.

And Slim Hebert was determined, more than ever, to be part of the journey no matter where it took her. No matter what it took.

On the flight from Detroit back to New York, Eulalie opened her tablet to read the first chapter of “Santa’s Surprise”. Even if the silly little LOST project didn’t turn out to be lucrative, it was an interesting excursion into a new realm for her.

As she read Gwendolyn Parson’s sex story, she was reminded of Chase’s dictum: “Use an expert to do the tasks that would be difficult or time-consuming for you. Pay them well — it’s worth it in the long run.”

_Chapter One — The Cleveland Visit

If Courtney Morgan had been an introspective woman, and had she stepped back to evaluate herself, she would have given herself a passing grade in Life Satisfaction. At least a solid B, maybe a B+.

Courtney would have described herself as a single mother, a divorced woman, an advertising professional with a decent career. Comfortable in a middle-class, perhaps almost upper middle-class way.

Her ex — James Jack Morgan — had left her for more fertile pastures. Although it wasn’t the cliched younger-secretary scenario. Jimmy Jack fell for, courted, and moved in with a college boy, a senior named Doug Lape.

Courtney went back and forth. It sucked to be ditched, but since it was for a guy ... well, that took some of the sting out of the marriage betrayal. As she told her best friend Marjorie Langmore, “Maggie, if Jimmy Jack is gay ... well, he’s gay.”

“Yep. Can’t argue with Mother Nature.”

Courtney’s 15-year old son, JJ, was ... well, a teenage boy. Puberty had butt-fucked him pretty rigorously, but he had since mellowed out. To a degree. There were still pouty days, angry outbursts, angst-filled traumas. But Courtney and JJ had slogged their way through the rocky sessions as best they could. That his riotous hormonal acne had cleared up helped a lot.

Courtney and Jimmy Jack had worked through the separation and divorce with one common objective — to do the least damage possible to their son. They didn’t argue in front of him, didn’t disparage each other. The split had been coming for several months and it was both fairly amiable and a relief.

JJ visited his father on the east side of Cleveland every other weekend. Jimmy Jack, who owned the majority share in three Ohio truck-stops offered a generous alimony and child support package that came to a negotiated settlement of $16,750 per month.

While Courtney didn’t need to continue working, she never considered leaving McConnell and Emerson, the local chapter of the New York-based marketing company. She was the senior advertising copywriter in the Cleveland division and was good at the job she loved. Plus, she earned just under $89,000 a year — one way to keep score.

When Covid hit, and Courtney was mostly working from home, she had mixed feelings about the change. It was comfortable working in a robe or sweats; dressing up only for Zoom meetings. Yet, she missed the office, the camaraderie, the banter. And, she knew that her work was of a slightly higher quality when she had person-to-person feedback. Could bounce ideas off her colleagues, could benefit from hallway and water-cooler chatter.

As the pandemic eased, at least for the time being, McConnell and Emerson instituted a policy of blending office time with stay-at-home days. It was flexible enough to let most of the employees find their own career balance.

One Wednesday morning — after rousing JJ, feeding him, locating his backpack, and getting him out the door to the school bus, Courtney showered, shampooed, shaved her legs, and took stock in front of her three-sided, full-length mirror;

She smiled and nodded to herself, “Not bad.” She was 38, slender by nature. A brunette with a sleek pageboy bob. She’d inherited good architecture from her parents, and was reasonably conscientious with her diet. She didn’t work out at the gym all that frequently, but religiously walked five miles a day, seven days a week.

She hefted her smallish breasts and regarded her image fondly. One advantage of having a trim figure was ... almost no sag. She trailed her hands down her side. Still had her high school waistline — 21 inches.

Courtney turned around, patted her butt. Pretty damned firm. Turned again, another smile. She needed a pubic trim, was past due. The diamond that Maggie had shaped definitely needed a touch-up. It pointed down to her pride and joy — a tiny, little-girl pussy.

In her kitchen, still nude, sipping her second cup of the morning, she called her best friend, “Mrs. Langmore, I need a trim. Bet you do too.”

Maggie laughed, “That’s not all I need, luv.”

Courtney’s relationship with her son, JJ ... well, it varied. He wasn’t an especially moody lad, but as she told Maggie, “He’s fucking 15-years old.”

“And a boy. A horny boy.”

Courtney did her best. She was pretty good at reading him; had learned when to back off, to give him his space. And also, when he needed to talk, whether he realized it or not.

One subject, now mostly in the rearview mirror, had been hormonal acne. Their family doctor had sent them to a dermatologist. She pointed them to a specialist in Akron. From there, they had tried over-the-counter solutions. A simple cocktail of tea tree, alpha hydroxy acids, and a beta hydroxy acid. That led to experiments with benzoyl peroxide, salicylic acid, and glycolic acid.

They finally arrived at a mixture, that applied twice a day, worked fairly well. One crisis averted. Mostly.

Sex was another awkward topic for JJ, especially during conversations with his mother. But, sensing his concerns, Courtney drew him out. The crux of his dilemma was, “Am I going to be gay? Like Dad?”

Many off-and-on conversations boiled down to, “Honey, if you are, it’s fine. But it seems to me you like girls.” Wink, “I see the way you look at Maggie.”

Blush.

JJ, like most of his friends, didn’t date. Instead they roamed in packs — a group of boys and girls, an occasionally-shifting mix of kids. But JJ seemed to end up walking one girl home more often than not. Courtney asked him, “So, you like Gracie Tremont?”

Mumble, mumble.

Maggie told Courtney, “JJ is a little cutie, isn’t he?”

“He wishes he was taller.”

“What is he, five-eight or nine?”

“Yeah, around there.”

“Wet dreams?”

Courtney crossed her arms, “Mrs. Langmore, that is so none of your beeswax.”

“Every night?”

“No, couple of times a week. Maybe three.”

Maggie grinned and held her hands apart, “Five? Six?”

“Oh, God, hon. I honestly don’t know. It’s been years.”

“Well, he is a little cutie pie.”

Courtney didn’t dwell on her sex life; she was, for the most part, satisfied. She had one ongoing affair — a cliché — her supervisor’s boss, the executive vice president of marketing — Conrad Blackwell. She and Conrad had been lovers before, during, and after her marriage.

Neither of them wanted more that what they had — an occasional Cleveland hotel romp for a couple of hours. All-nighters when they had one of their rare out-of-town trips.

Courtney knew she had a healthy sex drive. Not as strong as when she was in her 20s, but enough to keep her motor purring when she was in a certain mood.

Other than Conrad, she given two men a tipsy blowjob at holiday parties. Other than that, she’d been faithful to her husband. Well, not counting Maggie.

No, it was Jimmy Jack who had strayed the furthest. Well ... water under the bridge now.

That Wednesday morning, the mirror-inspection morning, was a rainy one. It wasn’t a couldburst storm, but a steady, slanting Spring shower.

Courtney, still nude, opened the door to welcome her best friend. Maggie shook out her transparent umbrella and hung it on the hall coat rack. She kicked off her sneakers, no socks, winked at Courtney, and unbuttoned her Burberry raincoat. The only Item she was wearing.

Courtney shook her head, “Slut.”

Maggie’s answer was a tight hug, a deep kiss. She stepped back and smiled, “I’m glad you called.”

Holding hands, they strolled back to Courtney’s bed. Courtney didn’t need to study her friend; she could tell how needy she was. “Here, I’ll take the edge off.”

Maggie sighed, closed her eyes and relaxed as Courtney traced patterns down her body to the juncture of her thighs. There, her knowing fingers went gently to work on Maggie’s generous pussy. Courtney knew it well, knew exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly how to caress her clit.

The sex between them was languorous, loving, and oh-so-satisfying. They knew each other, each other’s bodies, moods, and turn-ons.

Almost every time they used their hands on each other. Once in a while, when they were in a certain mood, one would go down on the other. But usually, just fingers and pussies, pussies and fingers.

But some days, they just lay side by side, on the backs, holding hands, and masturbating. It was slow, lazy, easygoing.

Later in the kitchen, Courtney in a robe, Maggie still naked, they sipped coffee and visited. Like they’d been doing for over 12 years, ever since Maggie and her family had moved into the neighborhood, three houses over.

The rain continued, splashing against the kitchen windows, a pleasant background thrum. Both women enjoyed the cozy sense of well-being, of being warm and dry and comfortable.

Maggie looked over the rim of her coffee cup, “You still giving JJ bra lessons?”

Courtney laughed, “I don’t mind. It’s ... oh, I dunno know, kind of a way to bond.”

Maggie nodded solemnly, “Oh yeah, sure. Most moms teach their boys how to unhook a bra.”

The JJ conversation regarding Gracie Tremont had been a blushing, halting one. Turned out she was letting him — above the waist only — fool around a little. Courtney winked at Maggie, “His first tit.”

“Speaking of which...”

“No, no, and no. I let him practice on me, but in the back only. I keep my sweater on. Or blouse, or whatever.”

Maggie was genuinely curious, “And he ... ah, respects your limits.”

“Yep;”

Maggie untied her friend’s robe and twirled one nipple, then the other, “Babe with your rack, you could let him...”

“Nope, nope, and nope.”

Maggie continued playing with Courtney, “God, no wonder he’s having all those wet dreams. And he’s gotta be beating off to you too.”

Courtney traced her finger around Maggie’s lips, “More likely it’s you.”

Big grin, “Or both of us.”

Spring turned into a muggy Cleveland summer. Fall was late in coming. JJ Morgan turned 16 and shot up another couple of inches. Courtney had put a stop to his bra-unclasping lessons, “Honey, you got it mastered. Now keep your hands to yourself.” Wink, “Or Gracie.”

The bra-practice was never titillating to Courtney. She was more amused than anything. JJ’s blushing face, his held breath, his unfocused eyes as he concentrated. Clumsy at first, fingers shaky, he became more confident, then pretty damned adroit.

Which led to one of her few lectures “Remember.”

JJ sighed, “No means no.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

The Autumn weather didn’t linger. By early December, winter slammed into Cleveland and slammed hard. A sleeting rain that turned roads and sidewalks into ice rinks as the temperature plummeted. Over five inches of snow in one day.