Well, why not? She licked the back of her hand cautiously, where there was a small blob of semen. Instantly, her mouth was suffused with an unfamiliar salty taste. She-liked it, she decided.
She saw Mike studying her wearily, and smiled at him. Mischievously, she reached out to smear some of his own cum on him, but he fended her off. Then, deliberately, feeling raunchy and sexy, she smeared her face with his gooey semen. She coated her cheeks with it, felt it dry to a chilly crust on her. She licked her fingers, cleaning them, knowing he was watching her, knowing instinctively that it excited him as much as it did her.
Then, finished, feeling languid and sexy, she stretched luxuriously. His eyes played over her nearly nude torso. Her small breasts flattened with the stretch. Her pink nipples, still hard and alert just from the cool touch of air against them, were drawn tight. Leaning over against him, she let her body relax in a way it had never relaxed before. "Okay, now?" she asked softly. She teased his limp, drooping penis with fingers that were much wiser than before.
"Fine," Mike answered. "You?"
"Perfect," she purred. She watched the movie absently, replaying in her mind everything that had just happened. Apparently her brother and Jan had finished their activities. They were both visible now. Charlie's arm was around her, and was reaching clear down in front of her. He's probably cupping one of her breasts in his hand, Cookie thought jealously.
She took one of Mike's hands and guided his arm around her, and placed his palm on her bare breast. It felt good, warm and firm and comforting. But she wished that it was Charlie's hand instead of Mike's. Mike was all right, but he was young, and impatient, and she knew he didn't love her, and that she didn't love him.
She loved Charlie. Since he'd gotten interested in girls, though, he had practically ignored her. Which wasn't fair, because she was a girl, too. She was only a year younger than Jan, after all.
Cookie wished it had been Charlie instead of Mike that she had masturbated. She wondered if she could ever get her brother's attention. As Mike's fingers played lazily with her small breast, she imagined that sparse blonde pubic hair and between her soft, warm, they were Charlie's fingers, and immediately felt a soft warmth growing in her belly. Stealthily, she eased one hand down to her crotch, eased her fingers inside her panties. She probed through the fine twists of her yielding labia. She found the nubbin of nerves that seemed to bring the greatest pleasure and massaged it gently. Her eyes closed, she dreamed of her brother, big, strong, sturdy Charlie, with his handsome, tanned face, his light brown eyes, his soft, curly, light brown hair. She tried, unsuccessfully, to picture him nude, then settled for her memory of him in his tight swimming suit. She dreamed of his hands on her breasts, his hands on her pussy, and her pleasure spared up and up and up.
"You okay?" Mike asked, breaking into her dream.
"I'm fine," she said sharply, angry that her dream had been interrupted.
She tried to recapture it and failed. The hand on her breast was only an irritation now, and the finger on her clitoris was painful instead of pleasant. The ecstasy was gone. In its place was dull misery, a hollow, empty feeling of loss. Shrugging off Mike's hand, she groped for her shorts and pulled them on, then fastened her bra and buttoned her blouse.
In seconds she was dressed. She was tired and frustrated and aggravated and wanted to go home. But Charlie and Jan were still necking and petting, so she couldn't say anything. Before they left home Charlie'd made her promise not to be a pest. Now, if she wanted to double date again, she had better keep quiet.
She wondered if there was some way she could get Charlie to pay attention to her. As the movie dragged on, she thought of plan after plan. Somehow, some way, she'd get him to notice she was a woman. Somehow.
The sticky sound from the front seat had to be Jan masturbating Charlie, or Charlie masturbating Jan. Probably both, judging by the amount of stupid groaning they were doing. There was a breathless pause, then a bunch of disgusting cleaning-up sounds.
When Jan turned, brazen as could be, and made her crack about enjoying the movie, Cookie's hatred of her grew. Then Mike, stupid idiot, made his comment about "what movie?" and began yakking about Jan being naked. Infuriated, Cookie wondered what Mike thought Jan was, anyway. Dummy.
It was a relief to be free of Jan and Mike at last. Tumbling into the passenger seat, Cookie settled by the door and glared out into the night. She responded sullenly to Charlie's questions. He didn't really care what happened to her.
"You going to see her again?" she asked finally, dreading the answer.
"Sure am."
"Tramp," Cookie muttered to the dark window, too softly for Charlie to hear. He asked her another stupid question. She shut him up with a quick, sullen answer.
How could he be such a dope over a girl like Jan? Cookie's jealousy was a seething pool of lava in her guts. She'd split them up, somehow.
CHAPTER III
Jan's head appeared around the door. All Charlie could see was her face.
"Come on in. Hurry up," she urged in a loud, theatrical whisper.
"Uh, hi," Charlie stuttered, awkwardly stumbling over the threshold. He caught his balance and turned just as Jan closed the door.
Holy Jesus! His heart slammed to a stop, paused just long enough to make his chest ache and his eyes fog over, then began pounding so hard it bruised his ribs.
She was naked. She was as naked as that night at the drive-in. She stood facing him, her feet apart, her hands on her softly rounded hips. Her conical breasts thrust out at him, her nipples looking like the fuses on an artillery shell. She was all pale skin and black hair, all curves and naked flesh. The patch of hair at her crotch was a jet black trapezoid angling down to between her thighs.
Charlie gulped. His cock rammed out against his pants. It didn't have anywhere near enough room. He felt all weak and hot just looking at Jan's naked body. She wasn't making the slightest effort to hide anything from him. She was as naked as the girls in magazines. Only Jan was alive, was right there in front of him, close enough to touch. His hands itched to run over her naked skin, to press her gorgeous firm breasts and comb through her thick kinky black pubic hair.
"I was taking a sunbath out by the pool," she announced. "Come on out. Do you want a soda or anything?"
"Uh, yeah, a cock, uh cola, or something," he said stupidly. As he followed her, he watched the rolling movement of her firm, round bottom. He studied the play of muscles in her graceful legs, the way her shoulder blades shifted as she swung her arms. She was a graceful symphony of nakedness in motion.
"I've got a cooler of stuff out here," she explained, leading the way out the kitchen door, out into the blinding sunlight.
Charlie couldn't take his eyes off her as she crossed to the cooler. Her skin looked very white in the harsh glare, and contrasted vividly with her jet black tresses. When she bent over the cooler, her lush ass thrust straight at him. It was one hell of an ass-tight and round, a dark crack between two shining moons, a hint of ebony curls high up between her thighs.
She straightened, and turned, and Charlie was treated to a front view as she came toward him, the sun gleaming on the slopes of her breasts, her thighs scissoring around the black patch of her pussy. Her breasts jiggled delightfully with every step. She started to hand him his drink, and then set it aside instead.