Chapter 4

Saturday I felt overwhelmed and almost called to cancel the dinner at the McCreevy's. I had way too much schoolwork to do. But finally I just decided to bring some calculus homework with me and get prepared to pull an all-nighter to finish my history paper. At about 4:30, I went down, got my bike, and rode over to their house. As I rode up the driveway, Allison was just getting out of her car. She looked bushed.

"Hi David," she said, waiting as I propped my bike on its kickstand and unslung my backpack. Then she wrapped her arms around me in a hug, and I wrapped my arms around her in return. I kissed the top of her head, and she looked up at me for a kiss on the lips. I did not deny her, but it wasn't a long kiss; she grabbed my hand, I grabbed my backpack, and we went inside.

"Hi Mom, I'm home. And David's here too," she called out.

Her mother poked her head out of the kitchen. She was wearing an apron and stirring a large bowl with a wooden spoon. "Hi Dear, and hi David. Dinner will be in about 40 minutes." Then she ducked back into the kitchen.

Allison turned to me and said "I'm going to take a shower. I stink. You've brought homework?"

I nodded.

"You can do it in the den if you want," she said, pointing the way. Then she gave me another quick kiss and she trudged upstairs. I went into the den and put down my backpack, but I didn't really feel like starting on calculus, so I wandered down to the kitchen.

Mrs. McCreevy was peeling potatoes at the sink. The smell of a roast filled the air, and I could feel the heat from the oven. An empty mixing bowl, still with some traces of what looked like pudding mix clinging to the sides, waited near the sink to be washed.

"Hi - is there anything I can do to help, Mrs. McCree--I mean, Barbara?"

She'd jumped a bit when I said "hi", and looked back over her shoulder at me as I finished.

"Can you peel potatoes?" she asked, giving me quick look up and down as if to assess my abilities. I looked at the potatoes, and the peeler, and the peels, and the way she'd carefully gouged out the eyes with the tip of the peeler, and I decided I could do the job.

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

Giving me one last appraisal, she straightened up and put down the potato she'd been peeling and the peeler, rinsed her hands, and moved out of my way. I moved into position at the sink, washed my hands, picked up the peeler and the potato and went to work. Barbara watched me for a minute, then apparently satisfied, she went to the fridge and got out a bag of something green.

"I hope you like Brussels sprouts," she said in such a way as to make it clear that saying 'no' was not an option.

Feeling like I had to say something, I mumbled, "Oh, sure, they're fine", bending over my peeling work. Brussels sprouts were not my favorites. And the peeling was going OK, but I was beginning to think I'd have been better off doing my calculus. Barbara seemed a bit prickly with me, but maybe I was imagining things.

"I saw you had a backpack with you. Did you bring schoolwork with you to do here, on Saturday night?" she asked me as she trimmed the ends off the sprouts.

"Um, yeah. I've got a ton of work this weekend. I almost called to cancel, but I decided if I can squeeze in my calculus homework while I'm here, I should be able to write a paper tonight, leaving tomorrow to study for my biology test."

"My, my. And yet you came in here and offered to help with dinner..."

"Yeah, well. Sometimes it takes me a while to get up the fortitude to start on calculus. I thought I might do better after dinner," I told her truthfully.

"Good man," she said, finally giving me a smile. "It's important to know when to put something off until after dinner."

I finished the last potato, and asked her "Now what?"

"Just get that big pot down," she said pointing. "Fill it about 1/3 full with cold water, put the potatoes in, and set the thing on the back burner turned to medium. When they're boiled, I may call you back in here to mash them, but for now, everything else is under control."

I did what she asked, rinsed my hands again, and wandered back towards the den feeling a bit like I'd been dismissed. I got the feeling that Barbara and I were still in the uncertainties of getting to know each other, and that I was not 100% accepted yet.

Just then, I heard Allison's voice call down the stairs.

"David? Can you come up here a minute?"

I hadn't been upstairs yet, so I walked up somewhat tentatively. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with three doors. One, at the end of the hall, was closed. Probably the master bedroom, Barbara's room. The one on the right was ajar, and the dampness from Allison's shower was still drifting out. The light was off, so I figured she wasn't there. That left the one on the left to be Allison's bedroom. I walked over to the open door and peered in. I wasn't very familiar with girls' bedrooms and didn't really know what to expect.

The room was pale yellow, with a pine desk and an old wooden-framed bed near the window. Allison was sitting on her bed, rubbing her back as best she could. Her bed wasn't really made, but she'd pulled the covers up to make it look neater. Her uniform was discarded in a heap on top of a hamper in the corner. There were a couple of posters on the wall, one of flowers, and the other of mountains. And there was a rocking chair in a corner with a pile of stuffed animals carefully arranged on it. A rabbit holding a read heart that read "Somebunny Loves You" sat front and center.

"Close the door and come over here," she said to me with a smile. Allison patted the bed next to her and I went over and sat down beside her. Her long, brown hair was still wet. Her face had that just-scrubbed look, but she still looked tired. She was wearing a t-shirt, and her bare feet stuck out of a pair of fuzzy, red sweatpants.

I put my arm around her and gently pulled her to me for a tender kiss, having decided that I should try to anticipate when she might like to be kissed. No point in needing to be told.

But this time, she said, "Mmm, but what I'd really like is a backrub. Even after my shower, my back is still killing me. I hate carrying those big trays of dishes."

"Sure," I said, and Allison lay face down on her bed. But I was unsure about how to start, so I sat there for a second, looking at her lying there. She lifted her head, looking back at me as if she wanted me to think she was impatient. So finally I pushed off my shoes and climbed onto the bed on my knees, straddling her butt, and started rubbing her shoulders and down her back.

I tried to concentrate on therapeutic massage, but I kept getting distracted by things like the scent of her shampoo, the idea that my dick was so close to her ass, and especially by my thoughts once I realized that she wasn't wearing a bra!

Then Allison did something that totally blew my mind. Saying that it would feel better without the shirt in the way, she pulled her t-shirt up, and I was feeling her bare skin against my hands. I pushed my hands up to the top of her shoulders and rubbed, eliciting an encouraging moan from Allison. I worked my hands down her spine, and over her shoulder blades. That's when I discovered that if I massaged the outside edges of her back, right there, I could feel the beginnings of the swell of her breasts where my fingers wrapped around her sides. Oh my! I had to stop for a moment and adjust my cock in my pants, for I was unbearably hard. Trying not to get fixated on her tits, I worked my hands back to the center and down her spine, following a tough cord of muscle underneath.

I worked my hands lower, until they were right at the tops of her sweatpants. That's when I discovered the feeling of the gradual swell of her hips and butt. I almost groaned at the thought of moving my hands lower. I even slipped my thumbs under the waistband to rub her tight muscles there, before moving my hands back up over her soft skin to her shoulders, then down to her sides to the secret swelling there, and on, and on.

While I so wanted to rub parts of her other than her back, and I was desperate to have her turn over to let me see her front side, I also truly wanted to get the tightness and aches out of her back. After about five minutes of this heavenly torture for me, she pushed herself partway up, and she wrenched her neck from side to side, stretching. We both could hear her back pop two or three times. "There, that's better," she said, and she pulled her shirt back down. I reluctantly climbed off her and she sat up smiling.

"I'll have to have you do that again some time! You give a good backrub."

Then she looked up at my flushed face, then down at the hard lump in my pants that I was trying, surreptitiously, to readjust to a more comfortable position.

"Oh dear," she said. "We can't go down to dinner with you looking like that. You'd scare my mother."

She reached behind her and rearranged the pillows, then she turned, and without a word, she guided me down until I was lying on my back on her bed with my head propped up. I was so embarrassed about being so obviously erect that I didn't even catch on to what she was saying at first.

"I know something that will help this," she said with a sexy smile while her hands moved to my belt.

Whaaa? I was suddenly afraid. "What about your mother?" I tried to ask.

"Sssh," she said. "She won't open the door. It's OK."

Her hands worked loose my belt, then the button, then the zipper. Then she pulled my pants down below my hips, exposing my jockeys with their large bulge.

She rubbed the bulge through my undershorts, and I was afraid I'd come right then. But then she reached inside and pulled out my dick, giving me a smile as she watched her prize appear.

Her hand was soft against the shiny, taut skin of my hard-on. She slowly moved her hands up and down the shaft, and I might have spurted right away except for my nervousness. And because I was so fascinated with what she was doing; she stroked me so differently than I stroked myself.

Then she leaned forward and sucked the crown of my cock into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the crown as her hand continued to rhythmically caress the shaft. Slowly, she pushed her mouth further down on my cock. I was stunned by the view. God, she looked so incredibly sexy! It would be hard to say whether it excited me more to see or to feel what she was doing. Then, suddenly, without warning, I was lying back on the pillows groaning and seeing stars as my come spurted into her mouth.

It may have been minutes before I was back to my senses. Allison was still stroking my softening shaft. She'd licked and sucked every drop of sperm clean. She was looking up into my face with tenderness. Seeing I was 'back', she reached over to the hamper, pulled out a t-shirt, wiped her face, and wiped her spit off my dick. Then, tossing the t-shirt back towards the hamper, she scooted up and kissed me, her tongue touching mine and moving around it much as she'd worked on my dick.

Pulling away from the kiss, she grinned at me. "I hope that wasn't too forward of me, but it looked like you needed that."

I hugged her to me, unable to speak.

It was just then that Barbara's voice came thinly through the door, "Allison, David: could someone come and mash the potatoes? Dinner's almost ready?"

"We'll be right down," Allison called, and we both stood up and rearranged our clothes to look respectable. She handed me a comb, which I pulled through my hair as she brushed hers out. Then, once we looked OK again, she pulled me into a hug and a kiss.

"Thanks for the backrub," she told me, looking up into my face with that look that I was growing to love.

"I, um... ," I started, not knowing what or how to say what I was feeling.

"Sssh, we've got potatoes to mash. Let's go." And she took my hand and pulled me downstairs to the kitchen.

When we got to the kitchen, Barbara had pulled the roast out of the oven and was making gravy over a hot stove. She'd drained the potatoes, which were sitting at the bottom of the pot steaming. Allison knew just what to do, getting out butter, milk, salt and pepper, and a potato masher which she handed to me.

"I don't want to strain my back again, so could you mash?" she asked sweetly. I knew the answer to that one, and soon I was mashing away as she made sure the potatoes would come out creamy enough. When she deemed them perfect, she got out a large bowl, and we transferred them over.

"You know, mashing potatoes is easier with two," she said, aiming the comment at the room in general.

Barbara gave Allison a sharp look that I couldn't decipher.

After a little more fussing, the roast on the carving tray, bowls of mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts, a pitcher of gravy, a basket of rolls, and plate with butter all made their way to the table, and the three of us were sitting down before a wonderful meal.

"We don't usually have a man to carve the roast," said Barbara, looking at me rather pointedly. "Would you care to do the honors?"

I gulped, having never carved before. I'd watched my dad dozens of times, it also being the man's job in my family. I almost got the feeling that Barbara was challenging me to do it, since carving would be the job of the man in the family, not some guest.

I took up the carving fork and knife, and standing as my father always did to get a better angle, I carefully stabbed the roast with the fork and sliced six quarter-inch thick slices off of the roast. They actually came out pretty straight and even. Then, as each lady offered me her plate in turn, I gave them each two slices of meat, then gave myself the final two and sat down. Allison was grinning as she watched me trying to act grown up, and at her mother's critical eye following my every move.

The food was delicious; warmer, fresher, tastier than what they served at the school cafeteria. Even the Brussels sprouts were OK if covered in enough of Barbara's rich gravy. I would have sat there in silence, concentrating on my food, if Allison hadn't started in on her mother.

"David thinks I should try to get a college scholarship, don't you, David?. He thinks I should go to college next year. Maybe I could go to the same college he goes to. What do you think, Mom?"

I had the feeling this was part of a long-standing discussion between mother and daughter, and I was frantically trying to play catch-up. I did vaguely remember talking briefly about Allison's future on the day we met, but I honestly hadn't given it much thought.