Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With cunted cock and fuck’s sweet rock
And cum juice in full flow.

Dawn was concerned. Homeschooled until high school, today in gym class she noticed that most of the other girls had hair down there. Dawn had but the faintest trace of down covering her pussy-mound. She frowned. In her mind, the only thing that could explain it was that she’d been born on February 29. As a leap baby, maybe she matured only a quarter as fast as everybody else.

A week later a new boy showed up in her homeroom, Jing. At the lunch table some of the boys asked Jing if he was going out for track. “I’m good at high jump,” he said. “Probably because I born leap day, February 29.” Dawn smiled at him, wondering how much hair he had, and after school, she invited him over to her house.

“What for?” Jing wanted to know.

“Birthday party,” Dawn improvised. “Since we’ve been shortchanged up to now, we deserve extra birthdays. And my mother will be at the garden show all afternoon, so we can party on cake and cookies unmolested.”

“Sound good to me,” Jing said with enthusiasm. “Wet’s go!”

While Jing was in the kitchen gorging himself on vanilla ice cream, Dawn wandered into the parlor. She looked at herself in the big mirror. She looked at herself seven ways. Then she took off all her clothes and looked at herself an eighth way. Still not satisfied, she took the mirror off the wall, set it on the floor, and crouched over it. Her thin thighs quivered when she widened them. Pale pink petals peeked from the puffy cleft. Her little stem tingled.

“What are you doing?”

It was Jing, a skin of ice cream on his lips.

“Musing upon my future,” Dawn answered.

“Ha!” Jing laughed. “You naked as baby. Bald as pie.” He licked away his ice cream mustache.

“Am not,” Dawn said. “Anyway, I bet I have more hair than you.”

“No way!”

“Okay, Mr. Ape-man, prove it. Take off your clothes and let’s see what you got.”

In a twinkling Jing yanked off his shirt, scuffed off his shoes, drew down his pants and underpants.

“See,” he said. “Hair.”

Dawn smiled. “Might be just shadow. Come closer so I can see better.”

Two small steps and Jing was standing at the edge of the mirror.

“You don’t have a very big one, do you?” Dawn said. “But it is cute, and you have a nice-looking pouch.” She leaned forward to feel it. Under her knee, the mirror cracked.

“Ha, ha!” sang Jing. “Now you have seven year bad ruck.”

“No way. You have it backwards.”

“Backwards? You mean clack mirror good ruck?”

“No, not ruck, something that rhymes with ruck.”

“What rhyme with ruck?”

“I’ll show you.”

And she showed him. For the next hour, she rhymed him up, she rhymed him down, she rhymed them twice to pleasure town.

They would have made the trip a third time, but she heard her mother’s car pulling into the driveway.

“Quick,” she commanded Jing. “Help me put the mirror back.”

“Oh, hello,” said Dawn’s mother upon entering the parlor. “Oh, Dawn, you have a little squitch of ice cream on your cheek here,” and she wiped it with her finger. “What have you two darlings been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Dawn said. “Just watering the flowers and celebrating our birthdays and stuff.”