Too late yet again, Clark heard the starting gun and had to stand alone in red-faced embarrassment while Coach Somers called the team back to start over, screaming at the whole team for lack of coordination because, like always, he didn't have quite the guts to pinpoint his ass chewing to the Senior Senator's only son. When he emerged from the four-lap timing sprint for which he had gotten into the water on time for a change, Tannsy and Lorene were waving good-bye from the wide archway between the pool and the gymnasium half of the club. Thank God.
Back on the starting block for still another time check, Clark spotted indoor tennis star Carmella Reiner and her tennis star brother among the eager beaver coat-tail athletes who stay to get their kicks to the last ripple of jock muscles, even in this hour of overtime he'd earned for his team. Politely, he returned Carmella's quick smile.
That was a funny one, he'd heard, that Carmella Reiner. He'd never come on with her himself but he'd heard several of the fellows telling how dumb and easy she was. Not stupid dumb; Carmella was a brilliant scholar in school, always coming up with grades to match the best, but she was said to have the imagination of a sex-mad alley cat. Like she would let just anybody play with those beautiful knockers of hers, inside her dress right off the bat, and even take her bra off if she had remembered to wear one. All they would have to do to get her panties off was to whisper in her ear to raise her behind a little and she'd do it like she didn't know what for. Between the times she was taking on anyone who would first be seen with her in public, she was said to be making it steadily with her own brother.
Almost smugly, Clark's mind began comparing the vibrant aliveness of his laughing little sister to the vacuous nothingness of the Reiner sister. A jolt hit him like a giant fist in the gut as he recalled the half-intrigue, half-disgust when anybody mentioned Carmella and Tommie Reiner. The same smirk would be used on his own sweet little sister if word of what they had done this morning ever got out.
Sick to death in his stomach, he sliced into the water. Heedless to Coach Somers' whistle screaming like an hysterical woman, he swam four violent laps of the pool but the sick feeling wouldn't go away.
Nor would the memory of what a great little broad his sister really was, the way she-e had comforted him-m afterwards: "Well, Clar-kie, I don't see how you can say you're such a lousy broth-ther. I don't remember little sister exactly fighting you off-f exactly, so if there's any blame for it, it has to be at least half mine, doesn't it? Or do you think I'm a rotten kid, too, then?" Tannsy had giggled. "In trouble together like always, hey, Clarkie?"
"So-ome trouble, hey." He had grinned back, finally, and that made it all right for Tannsy, too. Then he had kissed her, just like a real girlfriend, and Tannsy had thought that was the greatest thing ever happened.
Clark relaxed, finally, but his brain would never erase the beautiful memory of the act itself; of how Tannsy's tiny tight little cunt had held his cock way deep inside her, squeezing so tight it felt like a raging hard-on even after it had become completely soft, or her hard little breasts mashed against his chest while Tannsy held him close, not letting him get away from her until they had convinced each other that it had been no more than a crazy freak accident, or of her tiny cunt so reluctant to let his' cock go even then, even packed full of slippery juice like it was. So-ome great freak accident, hey, baby.
The boring hour of what used to be exciting competition in the water finally ended but Clark suddenly couldn't face going home to that sexoriented pad of his without the forbidden little sister giggling in it.
Up close, he found it hard to believe what they said about Carmella Reiner. She seemed like any ordinary nice kid, no different than his own sisters or any of the girls they ran around with. Her face, framed in shiny clean chestnut-colored hair, was soft and pretty even if it was rather vague looking. She was only sixteen, a few months younger than himself; and a kind of skinny broad, but she had the right tits, hips, and legs, and all in the right places.
She was as easy as they said but, shit, most girls were easy for him. Not even bothering to go into the house when they got there, Carmella led Clark to the three-car garage at the rear to show him the classic old Pierce Arrow sedan her father was restoring.
In spite of Carmella's suggestive grin, Clark played it like with a normal girl. "Hey, neat!" he said enthusiastically. "Let's get in and you tell the chauffeur where we want to go, okay?"
A look like surprise swept over Carmella's face. Then she smiled and she really was pretty. "You are as nice as everybody says, aren't you," she murmured. "You don't have to pretend anything with me, you know, Clarkie. I've been around."
Inside, the old car smelled like a French whorehouse with a lousy housekeeper. Clark quickly pulled a strap that let a window drop open on the dark side of the garage. He turned to Carmella and she came into his arms like a warm, beautiful, soft, shapely-and lifeless-doll. She accepted his kiss, neither taking nor giving, neither pushing her cunt against him nor pulling it away. He liked the way she let herself drop back onto the leather seat with no phony fussing but he found himself wishing she'd give a little instead of just accepting everything.
He slipped his hand through the elastic neckline of her blouse and tried to edge his fingers under her brassiere, but the brassiere was too tight. Carmella quickly hunched her shoulders to let him push it out of the way. The nipple of her powdery smooth breast came to instant life in the palm of his hand but to look at her face anyone would think he was doing nothing more than checking her cup size for a new bra.
The very nothingness of it all turned Clark on like the sneaky intimacy of a bathroom before Mrs. Compton had taught him what fucking a woman's hot juicy cunt was like. By the time he had slipped his hand between Carmella's flopped-out thighs and cupped his hand to her cunt through her panties, he had a hard on to put him in competition with a bull elephant. He slipped fingers under the leg of Carmella's panties, then stretched the crotch to get his whole hand onto the fuzzy hair on her firm feeling cunt. He thought his fingers had found the warm slit but then he wasn't all that sure. There was no least bit of breath-gulping wetness inviting him to dig in and play.
He never needed the whispered invitation to get Carmella's panties off. He pulled his hand from her cunt to run it up her hip and then, with none of the proper waiting period other girls insisted on, squeezed off a big handful of resilient round ass and moved his fingers to the top elastic. Carmella instantly raised her hips to let him get the wisp of silk down over her hips and then again to let him pull her skirt off from the bottom.
As Carmella's really great breasts came into view with her blouse and brassiere gone, Clark was suddenly seeing a set of hard little apple breasts with stiff pink nipples peeking through a film of misty green chiffon. Irritably, he snapped his head and clambered between Carmella's warm thighs and thrust his rigid cock at the dry lips of her cunt. He caught the involuntary wince of pain that crossed Carmella's features and backed off to lay beside her and finger her cunt and get her more ready.
"What's the matter, Clarkie?" Carmella asked anxiously. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Unh-uh. I was just in too much of a hurry, I guess."
"Oh… Hey, Clarkie? Why don't you… kiss it first? And I will, too, okay? It's fun that way."
"Kiss-! Oh, I… no, I couldn't do that. I've never done that to anybody."
"… It's… fun. It really turns you on?"
"Probably, but- Hey, if you've done it before, why don't you take mine in your mouth and get it nice and wet so we can get it in easier."
"Okay," said Carmella, and did exactly that; nothing less, nothing more. On his knees on the floor of the car, his cock bulging again from nothing more than the idea, Carmella turned her head and opened her mouth and Clark pushed his cock through her passive red lips. Carmella's warm mouth didn't close tightly on his flaring push rod as Mrs. Coach Somers' always did to scoop it as far in as she could get it. She didn't move her head to bring it in deeper nor block it with her tongue to keep it from going in too far. She didn't suck on it. Just as Clark had ordered, Carmella worked up a mouthful of warm spit, laved it around on as much of the prick as was stuck inside her face and stopped, remaining entirely motionless with her mouth pouting around it until Clark pulled away from her to resume his kneeling stance between her legs.