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Chapter 1

This story is laced with nuance, irony, and sheer cold-sweat fun. I grew up in a small town about an hour north of Phoenix, Arizona. Went to school at a the local highschool and hung out with the locals kids, doing your typical local mischief. Oddly, the day I planted myself into the greatest mischief to-date in my young life, things had started otherwise uneventful. Please note, this is true to the letter, aside from names and of course, some of the dialogue I've made up for lack of memory.

I had been playing basketball up at the old highschool. Now. this is the place where my father and his brothers and sisters went to school, before the school district rebuilt and relocated at the other end of town. So, the buildings are dated, now used mostly by the town to govern from, store stuff, and so forth. It even housed the Sheriff's Office. Surrounding the old school are great basketball courts, and because I lived but two blocks from them, I often rode my bike up to play. Typically, there were other kids who'd show up and we'd play two on, or even sometimes have enough for a full-court game. This particular day being the exception. There wasn't a soul about and so I played alone. Alone, that is except for a girl.

I have to explain me before I can explain her, so humor me. See, in highschool I could be sort of bi-polar, not in the sense of emotion, but rather in action. I was always a little erratic. Kind of shy most of the time, then once in a while I'd surprise myself, and even more so, my friends.

For example, I once came up with the idea of sneaking four of my friends into the spa at this brand spanking new way, way private resort at the edge of town. Not only did I create the idea, but I went so far as to employ it. It started when I walked over to a family who was staying at the resort. I noticed their car license plate. Utah. (I'd been to Park City, UT once for a theater festival at their Junior Highschool) I went up the guy while my friends waited at the street out front, and said, "Hey. You're from Utah?! What part?" The guy replied, Salt Lake. It was a miss, but not by far. Park City's approximately 25 miles from there. It gave me a little to go on.

"Wow," I said. "What are the odds? My family's staying over there," I said, pointing to nowhere in general, "and we're from Park City." I quickly added, "I go to Treasure Mountain Middle School, there." If I remembered correctly, that was the name. Sure enough, it hit home with the guy. He beamed as if I'd just handed him a little slice of random pie. We chatted. He told me he'd brought his family to Arizona to enjoy the spring warmth, while Salt Lake thawed. I commiserated, gave him the whole Boy, we're just the same. Glad we picked this time of year for a vacation. This desert weather is perfect right now! He ate it up. And finally I said: "Oh, by the way, I'm Jason Hargrove." He told me his name. Then I went for the kill. "Say, Mr. Allen, I might bring my mom and dad by. We could all shoot the breeze, or something. Where you guys staying?" To which he replied without hesitation,

"Oh, we're in Ridge Crest Bungalow, 1A, across the 9th green." My grin was genuine then. We shook hands again and parted ways.

Four hours later my friends and myself were turning into prunes in the chlorinated water, when a guy in resort khakis and a cream colored shirt walked over and asked me my name.

"I' m Jason," I said. "Jason Allen. I'm with my mom and dad. I think we're in your registry under Rick Allen. Yeah," I added. "Ridge Crest Bungalow, 1A." Needless, to say we didn't hear back from him. Anyhow, for a guy who considers himself the shy type, I do have my bold moments. They are unfortunately, only moments.

Lucky for me, I was feeling bold that particular day. I started shooting, by myself at first. But then, she seemed to be cute, at least from a distance. Had this sexy strawberry blonde hair. It may have been dyed, but it looked great, regardless. She also had these incredible legs, tanned and... the word that immediately came to mind, I remember it to this day, was sinuous. It had been a vocab word the week before. I hated vocabulary tests immensely. My tricks to memorize words were notorious for working just long enough to take the godforsaken test. After that, forget it. This word stuck though, partly because of its meaning. Now, when I saw those legs for the first time, I knew that word would forever be embedded in my mind, like a dictionary with pictures for reference. (Sinuous: (Refer to picture) -- Oh yeah, those legs).

So I was 18 and graduating in less than two months, I thought, what the hell. I held my ball, my basketball that is, and wandered over to where she was shooting.

"Hey," she said, even before I could initiate.

"Hi," I replied.

"I'm Shirsten." I was immediately struck by how forward she was. And her name. I'd never heard it before, and told her so.

"Yeah, I used to not like it, but it's cool I guess."

"It is, it's nice." Then came one of those pauses that are never good when you first meet someone. Oh yeah, my name.

"I'm uh, Jason by the way." She smiled. What a smile. Her cheeks dimpled impossibly deep.

"So," I said, "How come I've never seen you around, or at school? Are you visiting somebody in town?"

"Oh, no," she said, turning to me and brushing a lock of that strawberry blonde out of her face, "I'm home schooled."

"Ah, OK," I said. Home schoolers were always a strange group to us public schoolers. First of all, they were usually less than sociable. I guess because they didn't get to hang out with that many other kids, and were usually... alone. I looked around us. Granted, I was pretty much alone at the moment, but that was more or less chance. Things were a little awkward for a moment. As a kid, you complicate things in ways that aren't necessary. Learning that she was a home schooler, I suddenly thought, Well, we don't have anything in common. Idiot.

"Are you meeting somebody here?" I asked. A real brainiac question.

"No. My dad's at work, so I just decided to come out here and play a little until he's done." Kids never ask each other what their parents do. It's just not the thing, not important, who knows...

"Oh, OK. Um, well..." I was reaching like a one-armed mountain climber. Luckily, she was nothing like the stereotype I imagined. She grabbed a rebound, then stopped and turned to me.

"Do you wanna go to the arcade, Jason?" Unlike the adult mind, the kid's mind has this innocent knowledge that answering right away is always, always, always, better than pondering.

"OK," I said, without so much as a beat's hesitation. We started walking, then she turned back.

"What about your bike?" I looked back. It was tucked more or less out of sight between the building and the chain link.

"Eh, it'll be OK here." There's nothing quite like the naivety that comes with living in a small town.

So we walked along the sidewalk, and it was nuts. I mean I flat don't know how to explain it. It was just like jazz or something. We walked side-by-side in utter harmony, like we shared a leg. Absolutely ridiculous I know, and yet I couldn't get over it. What's more, she made the same observation, audible.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jason, but I feel like we've walked down this sidewalk together before." I pretended I didn't know what she meant, even though it was pretty clear. She tried to elaborate.

"Like we've walked together hundreds of times before. It's weird." Yeah, that was it alright.

"I know what you mean." And it was just like that. They say you never really know what triggers a friendship, how they start, just that it happens and before you can trace your footsteps into one, they've blown away in the wind. OK, nobody has ever said that, in fact, that was probably the complete babble of an over-active mind. But! I do often wonder how the good friendships "happen". If you really think about it, it doesn't follow any set path. They, the good ones anyway, usually develop rather... (Refer to picture -- Oh yeah, those legs) sinuously.

Shirsten and I met again almost everyday after school. Yeah, I pretty much disappeared on my friends; left them angry and abandoned, but I couldn't help it. I liked the shit out of this girl. And getting girlfriends and ditching your friends is what kids do, damnit! Who were we to fight it? She was uncanny cool, too. Knew all sorts of things, had read four maybe five million more books than me, and then of course, well... she looked irresistibly good in the clothes she wore.

Now this was the spray paint on the Mona Lisa; The tiny cock on the enormous sculpture; the big ass weed in the otherwise weedless rose garden. You following me? She was like a walking contradiction in her upbringing and her well, ways. For instance, look at how she dressed. She wore low-low cut jeans, this at a time when low cut jeans were still waiting patiently to make a comeback. She also wore these uniform short sleeve button-down blouses, all prim and proper, right? Not quite. She kept them unbuttoned well into the realm of Cleavage Country, USA. Which, might I add, was ample thanks to her nicely shaped breasts and those miraculous bras. They kept her tits set up like dirty-filthy royalty. And what's more, the bras were always a contrasting color to the shirt. One afternoon when Shirsten and I were sitting out front of the ice cream shop, my mom drove by and honked. I waved. When I got home that night I got the biggest damn lecture! My mom saw Shirsten's outfit, and the red bra glaring through her light blouse. Well, damn, I couldn't fathom it when she suggested Shirsten's fashion choice of contrasting colors was in no way an accident. Who knew? Ha!

Shirsten also had this wild streak. Now, like me she was sort of shy. Sort of came across reserved. Mostly. But when it came to huevos, balls, nuts, whatever you fancy calling the moxie, mine were bb's in comparison. This was a girl who talked about going to an IVY League school, being a lawyer, and the like. Then suddenly she'd transform into Punk Rock Rebellious, and you want to talk about mischief?! She shoplifted like a fiend. Stupid stuff, like locker padlocks and packages of marbles. Even more bizarre, once she got outside the store, she'd set the loot down, right by the door.

One night she phoned in an order for six pizzas and had them sent to this nasty little motel in the middle of town. I had to hand it to her; the girl was brilliant. She picked the room that happened to be at the very edge of the building, right next to a huge orchard. The guy who does the local deliveries carries the pizza on his motorcycle. Anyway, the guy gets off his bike and can only carry three pizzas to go knock on the door. When he's at the door, Shirsten and I slip out and grab the other three pizzas. The guy never even turned around.

Now me, I could never do something like that. I'd feel too guilty, my conscience working overtime worrying about what the delivery guy would have to tell his boss, and so on and so forth. But Shirsten, the seemingly sweet, demure, home school kid, did it without conscience. The weird thing was, she never really enjoyed the spoils of her conquests. Just like the things she stole and set by the door so the store clerks would find them, she didn't even have a slice of the pizza. I remember eating one, but was too nervous to stomach another, so we left the three extra large pies minus a slice, sitting in the middle of the orchard.

By this time in our relationship, things were moving toward girlfriend-boyfriend. She was the initiator as always. I think my problem was being raised by a mother who always beat it into my head not to be pushy with the ladies. I could use other dysfunctional adjectives for the way my mother worked. Drilled it into my head, bored it into my, pounded... but, you get the idea. So frankly, I was a little nervous to try and take our relationship to an intimate level. For one, I really liked Shirsten. I was crazy about her. I absolutely did not want to fuck that up. Secondly, I wasn't too experienced. Yeah, I'd fooled around with girls since I was thirteen. Small towns can get boring, so the local kids experiment. I hadn't gone far. A hand job, received a couple blow jobs. Even doled out an oral favor or two, myself. But that was about it, and none with somebody as incredibly attractive and lightning quick-minded as Shirsten. Yet, lucky for me, I didn't need to initiate squat.

Our first kiss, which quickly became a mack fest happened when I was waiting with her for her father. Call me a fool, call me a... well, don't call me anything, just listen. See, I didn't know what her father did per se. I knew he worked somewhere in the local government. That's why Shirsten was always hanging around the old highschool, waiting for her father to get off work. I had never actually waited with her, until that day. We were leaning against a patrol car in the gravel parking lot.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" It's a sad state of affairs when your girlfriend has to ask you that. And maybe the stars were all in alignment, because I was actually swinging around the I can do anything pole, of my bi-polar self. I didn't so much as answer her. I stopped leaning on the car and put my arms around her and kissed her. God, those full lips, pink and sun chapped, had been so difficult to resist, and did not fail to show me why. Shirsten released a growl from low in her throat that came up and seemed to wade into my own mouth, vibrating my tongue. In no time, she was sucking on my bottom lip, nibbling my top lip, our tongues trespassing, dancing their awkward dance to that hormonal orchestra. She then pulled herself up onto the trunk of the patrol car, and I shit you not, grabbed my face and buried it between her breasts. I was certainly surprised but I hope I didn't show it. I starting nuzzling her tits as I wrapped my arms around her waist and ran my hands in under her shirt. I kissed and licked as if it were a pie-eating contest. Then she made her announcement. I have spent a good deal of time thinking back on this. I have tracked and traced, and pinpointed. I attribute that precise moment to being the opening of one big fucking can of worms.

"Let's see if the car is unlocked. I want to get in the back," she said sliding against me and off the back of the patrol car. (Come again? -- Don't mind if I do.)

"Shirsten." My hormones quickly jumped back behind their own battle lines. I could hear the orders being given to ready the heavy artillery. Somewhere a trumpet sounded. I think I heard the hormone general issuing an inspirational speech.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said, tying to sound as firm as I could. The hormone chaplain was reading from a book of Psalms. Shirsten's face did something I had not seen before. A tactic of irresistible means. Slowly, her bottom lip puffed out. Her eyes fell, her lashes seemed to shade them like gorgeous parasols. A distant flag raised and the hormone general brought his hand up to his brow. My cock stood right up and saluted.

"Are you sure?" Shirsten cooed. Just then, I heard someone far away yell, CHHAARRRGGGE! and I heard myself say meekly,

"OK." Of course, the back door was unlocked. This was after all a small town. Who steals a cop car? Shags in the backseat, maybe. But steal, no. Definitely not.

Shirsten was sprawled out on the backseat, her pants already coming off, when I shot a hesitant glance over my shoulder before sliding in and shutting the door. As if there were any doubt that Shirsten's legs got better as the view progressed, I quickly learned that yes, yes they did. She had shucked her pants and was wearing an impossibly thin thong. In less than a glance and a nano-second, my eyes relayed a message to my brain that asked: Did anyone else notice the crease where her vagina was trying to swallow that thong? How about a show of hands?

I was undoing my belt, not fast enough apparently.

"Let me help you," Shirsten said, leaning forward and taking over. I was pulling my shirt over my head, when I felt my cock spring free and take a gulp of open air. I heard Shirsten utter a Hmmm, and I literally gasped as her mouth enveloped my cock.

"Oh shit," I breathed. She pulled her mouth off momentarily to laugh. Then she sank on it again, her tongue flicking over the sides and base. She slurped as she pulled her face off me a second time, and I had to wait until her hair was out of the way to see she had actually coated me with her spit. She leaned back and pushed herself away from the window until her head was lying on the seat. Her ass was against my thigh, her left leg she shoved behind me, her right propped up.

"OK," she said simply, grinning sheepishly at me. I turned myself and sat cross-legged between her legs. I reached up and pulled her thong over those hips and down her legs which she lifted giving me a view beyond those gaping lips. Meanwhile, I was grinning like a kid in a candy store. Well, in essence that was where I was. I pushed her leg a bit wider then ducked my head into her cunt. She was trimmed and had left only the faintest notion of a red-blonde pubic patch. I was pleased to cause my own gasp of surprise when my lips met those of her vagina. She was like fire on my mouth. I dipped my tongue straight into her and she arched her back and moaned. I tried to remember the other girl's I'd gone down on, and for the life of me I could swear none of them had such an intense heat rising from their body. In, their body. My tongue immediately felt that heat as I dipped it in and then pushed my mouth down harder to increase my depth. I left my face buried hard and flicked my tongue up and down her slit in the shallow depths of her steaming snatch. All the while, Shirsten moaned and gyrated her hips. She was running her right hand through my hair occasionally pushing my head harder against her mons when my tongue met a particularly sensitive area.

"Oh God, there," she said, and I concentrated my tongue flicks with greater fervor. When my tongue tired I sucked her labia and began plumbing her with one and then two fingers. I gently fucked her with my index and middle and smashed the flat of my tongue against her clit, rubbing the tiny nub back and forth over my tastebuds. Shirsten was near jitters at this point and had her bra pushed down under her tits and was twisting her nipples. On a particularly good note, she would bend at the waist and arch her mid-back well off the seat. I found this especially sexy, looking up from her pussy to watch her hips and stomach rise and her tits thrust upward. Those nipples were so hard they seemed capable of cutting holes in the car's ceiling, each time she arched her back and propelled them upward.

"Hurry, I want to fuck you," she said suddenly. I was beyond the point of asking myself who this girl was. I decided I didn't want to know. She looked a lot like Shirsten and that was all that mattered. Except for a wee problem.

"I don't have a--" She cut me off.

"I'm on the pill."

"Uh-" I started.

"It helps when I'm having my period. It regulates my flow." OK then. I'd never heard anything like that before, but I was willing to trust blindly. I pulled myself up the seat and over her body. She reached down between us and grabbed my cock and jerked it twice. I could have shot a load down her cunt lips at that moment. She massaged the tip, greasing her hand before slicking my entire shaft. Then she actually leaned up and bit my lip as she spoke.

"Do me," she commanded lustily, suckling on my lip. I was literally on the fucking verge of complying, when a pair of headlights lit up the inside of the car. I recoiled and fell onto the floor, and grabbed what I thought were my pants, but actually hers, and had them pinned over my crotch. We both lay there in a still panic as a car door opened. I can hear those fucking feet on the gravel parking lot to this day, then the door closing.

"Shirsten!" a voice called. "Honey, you about?" I looked at Shirsten, my eyes wide. Shirsten, in-fucking-credibly, took my hand and placed it on her mound. She directed my middle finger into her canal. I stared at her wide-eyed as she mouthed My Dad. I was on the point of becoming religious when the footsteps started fading. Shirsten whispered.

"He's got to change and sign the deputy's reports." I sighed.

"Change? Sign what?" I looked a bit bewildered, precisely because I was.

"Yeah, well he is the sheriff." My life was going to end.

"We're getting dressed and I'm getting the fuck--" I pulled my finger from her cunt. She cut me off, grabbing my hand and stinking that finger into her mouth.

"Or we can finish what we started." If you look in a woman's purse sometime, I'm convinced you'll find it. Way down at the bottom. They sit neatly in a silver tamper-resistant case. Inside are three to five faces. These incredible faces that could, by no means, possibly belong to that woman sitting before you, but which she miraculously sports at times most unexpected. Shirsten was wearing Lust Face. Never in my life, have I ever seen a face so impossibly unrecognizable, yet so fucking irresistible. Shirsten? Now she wore it like it was going out of style.

"We have to finish. We'll be real fast. You'll like that won't you." Fast? Well, sure it had a certain ring to it. She took my finger up to the knuckle, her tongue wrapping it.

"Look Shirsten, I don't know why it didn't occur to me until just now that your dad's the sheriff of the fucking town, but I'm not about to have him find me ON... IN, his daughter, IN a patrol car!" I was still whispering, but I hoped I was making an impression on her, besides the one on her tongue. But, no. She leaned over, popped my finger from her mouth and stuck her tongue in my mouth! Can you imagine the gall? She kept her face close, her breath hot and sweet on my lips and said,

"When will we have this chance again? All you have to do is get on top of me. Put it in, fuck me, and then come. It's pretty simple, right?" Fuck and Come. Those two words, the way she said them, the way I can still hear them... Why don't women run the world? Oh wait...

I threw her pants against the other side of the car, and literally leapt up from the floor and between her legs to a shower of giggling kisses. I grabbed my cock, rubbed it up her slit twice, and slide it home. We both lay there a minute as I sunk deeper and deeper into her snatch, her body swallowing me hungrily. Our mouths were touching and we breathed hard, but all concentrations were on the feeling below. My mind slammed into action and I began pounding her quickly slickening vagina. Each time I slammed against her, I hated her and loved her at the same time. Hated her for having put us, ME at such risk. Loved her because I wanted to fuck her now and always. Hated her for being the sheriff's daughter. Loved her for being so fucking hot. Her cunt milked me and I pounded harder. The thought that her dad could walk out the door at any minute was a death-defying thrill. I saw him walking up to the car and gazing down through the fogging windows, wondering whose white ass was jack hammering the hole between his daughter's legs. Shirsten would no doubt, look up and wave. I felt like more like I'd kidnaped the king's daughter Robin Hood style, vowing to return her deflowered and gapped.

This story is laced with nuance, irony, and sheer cold-sweat fun. I grew up in a small town about an hour north of Phoenix, Arizona. Went to school at a the local highschool and hung out with the locals kids, doing your typical local mischief. Oddly, the day I planted myself into the greatest mischief to-date in my young life, things had started otherwise uneventful. Please note, this is true to the letter, aside from names and of course, some of the dialogue I've made up for lack of memory.

I had been playing basketball up at the old highschool. Now. this is the place where my father and his brothers and sisters went to school, before the school district rebuilt and relocated at the other end of town. So, the buildings are dated, now used mostly by the town to govern from, store stuff, and so forth. It even housed the Sheriff's Office. Surrounding the old school are great basketball courts, and because I lived but two blocks from them, I often rode my bike up to play. Typically, there were other kids who'd show up and we'd play two on, or even sometimes have enough for a full-court game. This particular day being the exception. There wasn't a soul about and so I played alone. Alone, that is except for a girl.

I have to explain me before I can explain her, so humor me. See, in highschool I could be sort of bi-polar, not in the sense of emotion, but rather in action. I was always a little erratic. Kind of shy most of the time, then once in a while I'd surprise myself, and even more so, my friends.

For example, I once came up with the idea of sneaking four of my friends into the spa at this brand spanking new way, way private resort at the edge of town. Not only did I create the idea, but I went so far as to employ it. It started when I walked over to a family who was staying at the resort. I noticed their car license plate. Utah. (I'd been to Park City, UT once for a theater festival at their Junior Highschool) I went up the guy while my friends waited at the street out front, and said, "Hey. You're from Utah?! What part?" The guy replied, Salt Lake. It was a miss, but not by far. Park City's approximately 25 miles from there. It gave me a little to go on.

"Wow," I said. "What are the odds? My family's staying over there," I said, pointing to nowhere in general, "and we're from Park City." I quickly added, "I go to Treasure Mountain Middle School, there." If I remembered correctly, that was the name. Sure enough, it hit home with the guy. He beamed as if I'd just handed him a little slice of random pie. We chatted. He told me he'd brought his family to Arizona to enjoy the spring warmth, while Salt Lake thawed. I commiserated, gave him the whole Boy, we're just the same. Glad we picked this time of year for a vacation. This desert weather is perfect right now! He ate it up. And finally I said: "Oh, by the way, I'm Jason Hargrove." He told me his name. Then I went for the kill. "Say, Mr. Allen, I might bring my mom and dad by. We could all shoot the breeze, or something. Where you guys staying?" To which he replied without hesitation,

"Oh, we're in Ridge Crest Bungalow, 1A, across the 9th green." My grin was genuine then. We shook hands again and parted ways.

Four hours later my friends and myself were turning into prunes in the chlorinated water, when a guy in resort khakis and a cream colored shirt walked over and asked me my name.

"I' m Jason," I said. "Jason Allen. I'm with my mom and dad. I think we're in your registry under Rick Allen. Yeah," I added. "Ridge Crest Bungalow, 1A." Needless, to say we didn't hear back from him. Anyhow, for a guy who considers himself the shy type, I do have my bold moments. They are unfortunately, only moments.

Lucky for me, I was feeling bold that particular day. I started shooting, by myself at first. But then, she seemed to be cute, at least from a distance. Had this sexy strawberry blonde hair. It may have been dyed, but it looked great, regardless. She also had these incredible legs, tanned and... the word that immediately came to mind, I remember it to this day, was sinuous. It had been a vocab word the week before. I hated vocabulary tests immensely. My tricks to memorize words were notorious for working just long enough to take the godforsaken test. After that, forget it. This word stuck though, partly because of its meaning. Now, when I saw those legs for the first time, I knew that word would forever be embedded in my mind, like a dictionary with pictures for reference. (Sinuous: (Refer to picture) -- Oh yeah, those legs).

So I was 18 and graduating in less than two months, I thought, what the hell. I held my ball, my basketball that is, and wandered over to where she was shooting.

"Hey," she said, even before I could initiate.

"Hi," I replied.

"I'm Shirsten." I was immediately struck by how forward she was. And her name. I'd never heard it before, and told her so.

"Yeah, I used to not like it, but it's cool I guess."

"It is, it's nice." Then came one of those pauses that are never good when you first meet someone. Oh yeah, my name.

"I'm uh, Jason by the way." She smiled. What a smile. Her cheeks dimpled impossibly deep.

"So," I said, "How come I've never seen you around, or at school? Are you visiting somebody in town?"

"Oh, no," she said, turning to me and brushing a lock of that strawberry blonde out of her face, "I'm home schooled."

"Ah, OK," I said. Home schoolers were always a strange group to us public schoolers. First of all, they were usually less than sociable. I guess because they didn't get to hang out with that many other kids, and were usually... alone. I looked around us. Granted, I was pretty much alone at the moment, but that was more or less chance. Things were a little awkward for a moment. As a kid, you complicate things in ways that aren't necessary. Learning that she was a home schooler, I suddenly thought, Well, we don't have anything in common. Idiot.

"Are you meeting somebody here?" I asked. A real brainiac question.

"No. My dad's at work, so I just decided to come out here and play a little until he's done." Kids never ask each other what their parents do. It's just not the thing, not important, who knows...

"Oh, OK. Um, well..." I was reaching like a one-armed mountain climber. Luckily, she was nothing like the stereotype I imagined. She grabbed a rebound, then stopped and turned to me.

"Do you wanna go to the arcade, Jason?" Unlike the adult mind, the kid's mind has this innocent knowledge that answering right away is always, always, always, better than pondering.

"OK," I said, without so much as a beat's hesitation. We started walking, then she turned back.

"What about your bike?" I looked back. It was tucked more or less out of sight between the building and the chain link.

"Eh, it'll be OK here." There's nothing quite like the naivety that comes with living in a small town.

So we walked along the sidewalk, and it was nuts. I mean I flat don't know how to explain it. It was just like jazz or something. We walked side-by-side in utter harmony, like we shared a leg. Absolutely ridiculous I know, and yet I couldn't get over it. What's more, she made the same observation, audible.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jason, but I feel like we've walked down this sidewalk together before." I pretended I didn't know what she meant, even though it was pretty clear. She tried to elaborate.

"Like we've walked together hundreds of times before. It's weird." Yeah, that was it alright.

"I know what you mean." And it was just like that. They say you never really know what triggers a friendship, how they start, just that it happens and before you can trace your footsteps into one, they've blown away in the wind. OK, nobody has ever said that, in fact, that was probably the complete babble of an over-active mind. But! I do often wonder how the good friendships "happen". If you really think about it, it doesn't follow any set path. They, the good ones anyway, usually develop rather... (Refer to picture -- Oh yeah, those legs) sinuously.

Shirsten and I met again almost everyday after school. Yeah, I pretty much disappeared on my friends; left them angry and abandoned, but I couldn't help it. I liked the shit out of this girl. And getting girlfriends and ditching your friends is what kids do, damnit! Who were we to fight it? She was uncanny cool, too. Knew all sorts of things, had read four maybe five million more books than me, and then of course, well... she looked irresistibly good in the clothes she wore.

Now this was the spray paint on the Mona Lisa; The tiny cock on the enormous sculpture; the big ass weed in the otherwise weedless rose garden. You following me? She was like a walking contradiction in her upbringing and her well, ways. For instance, look at how she dressed. She wore low-low cut jeans, this at a time when low cut jeans were still waiting patiently to make a comeback. She also wore these uniform short sleeve button-down blouses, all prim and proper, right? Not quite. She kept them unbuttoned well into the realm of Cleavage Country, USA. Which, might I add, was ample thanks to her nicely shaped breasts and those miraculous bras. They kept her tits set up like dirty-filthy royalty. And what's more, the bras were always a contrasting color to the shirt. One afternoon when Shirsten and I were sitting out front of the ice cream shop, my mom drove by and honked. I waved. When I got home that night I got the biggest damn lecture! My mom saw Shirsten's outfit, and the red bra glaring through her light blouse. Well, damn, I couldn't fathom it when she suggested Shirsten's fashion choice of contrasting colors was in no way an accident. Who knew? Ha!

Shirsten also had this wild streak. Now, like me she was sort of shy. Sort of came across reserved. Mostly. But when it came to huevos, balls, nuts, whatever you fancy calling the moxie, mine were bb's in comparison. This was a girl who talked about going to an IVY League school, being a lawyer, and the like. Then suddenly she'd transform into Punk Rock Rebellious, and you want to talk about mischief?! She shoplifted like a fiend. Stupid stuff, like locker padlocks and packages of marbles. Even more bizarre, once she got outside the store, she'd set the loot down, right by the door.

One night she phoned in an order for six pizzas and had them sent to this nasty little motel in the middle of town. I had to hand it to her; the girl was brilliant. She picked the room that happened to be at the very edge of the building, right next to a huge orchard. The guy who does the local deliveries carries the pizza on his motorcycle. Anyway, the guy gets off his bike and can only carry three pizzas to go knock on the door. When he's at the door, Shirsten and I slip out and grab the other three pizzas. The guy never even turned around.

Now me, I could never do something like that. I'd feel too guilty, my conscience working overtime worrying about what the delivery guy would have to tell his boss, and so on and so forth. But Shirsten, the seemingly sweet, demure, home school kid, did it without conscience. The weird thing was, she never really enjoyed the spoils of her conquests. Just like the things she stole and set by the door so the store clerks would find them, she didn't even have a slice of the pizza. I remember eating one, but was too nervous to stomach another, so we left the three extra large pies minus a slice, sitting in the middle of the orchard.

By this time in our relationship, things were moving toward girlfriend-boyfriend. She was the initiator as always. I think my problem was being raised by a mother who always beat it into my head not to be pushy with the ladies. I could use other dysfunctional adjectives for the way my mother worked. Drilled it into my head, bored it into my, pounded... but, you get the idea. So frankly, I was a little nervous to try and take our relationship to an intimate level. For one, I really liked Shirsten. I was crazy about her. I absolutely did not want to fuck that up. Secondly, I wasn't too experienced. Yeah, I'd fooled around with girls since I was thirteen. Small towns can get boring, so the local kids experiment. I hadn't gone far. A hand job, received a couple blow jobs. Even doled out an oral favor or two, myself. But that was about it, and none with somebody as incredibly attractive and lightning quick-minded as Shirsten. Yet, lucky for me, I didn't need to initiate squat.

Our first kiss, which quickly became a mack fest happened when I was waiting with her for her father. Call me a fool, call me a... well, don't call me anything, just listen. See, I didn't know what her father did per se. I knew he worked somewhere in the local government. That's why Shirsten was always hanging around the old highschool, waiting for her father to get off work. I had never actually waited with her, until that day. We were leaning against a patrol car in the gravel parking lot.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" It's a sad state of affairs when your girlfriend has to ask you that. And maybe the stars were all in alignment, because I was actually swinging around the I can do anything pole, of my bi-polar self. I didn't so much as answer her. I stopped leaning on the car and put my arms around her and kissed her. God, those full lips, pink and sun chapped, had been so difficult to resist, and did not fail to show me why. Shirsten released a growl from low in her throat that came up and seemed to wade into my own mouth, vibrating my tongue. In no time, she was sucking on my bottom lip, nibbling my top lip, our tongues trespassing, dancing their awkward dance to that hormonal orchestra. She then pulled herself up onto the trunk of the patrol car, and I shit you not, grabbed my face and buried it between her breasts. I was certainly surprised but I hope I didn't show it. I starting nuzzling her tits as I wrapped my arms around her waist and ran my hands in under her shirt. I kissed and licked as if it were a pie-eating contest. Then she made her announcement. I have spent a good deal of time thinking back on this. I have tracked and traced, and pinpointed. I attribute that precise moment to being the opening of one big fucking can of worms.

"Let's see if the car is unlocked. I want to get in the back," she said sliding against me and off the back of the patrol car. (Come again? -- Don't mind if I do.)

"Shirsten." My hormones quickly jumped back behind their own battle lines. I could hear the orders being given to ready the heavy artillery. Somewhere a trumpet sounded. I think I heard the hormone general issuing an inspirational speech.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said, tying to sound as firm as I could. The hormone chaplain was reading from a book of Psalms. Shirsten's face did something I had not seen before. A tactic of irresistible means. Slowly, her bottom lip puffed out. Her eyes fell, her lashes seemed to shade them like gorgeous parasols. A distant flag raised and the hormone general brought his hand up to his brow. My cock stood right up and saluted.

"Are you sure?" Shirsten cooed. Just then, I heard someone far away yell, CHHAARRRGGGE! and I heard myself say meekly,

"OK." Of course, the back door was unlocked. This was after all a small town. Who steals a cop car? Shags in the backseat, maybe. But steal, no. Definitely not.

Shirsten was sprawled out on the backseat, her pants already coming off, when I shot a hesitant glance over my shoulder before sliding in and shutting the door. As if there were any doubt that Shirsten's legs got better as the view progressed, I quickly learned that yes, yes they did. She had shucked her pants and was wearing an impossibly thin thong. In less than a glance and a nano-second, my eyes relayed a message to my brain that asked: Did anyone else notice the crease where her vagina was trying to swallow that thong? How about a show of hands?

I was undoing my belt, not fast enough apparently.

"Let me help you," Shirsten said, leaning forward and taking over. I was pulling my shirt over my head, when I felt my cock spring free and take a gulp of open air. I heard Shirsten utter a Hmmm, and I literally gasped as her mouth enveloped my cock.

"Oh shit," I breathed. She pulled her mouth off momentarily to laugh. Then she sank on it again, her tongue flicking over the sides and base. She slurped as she pulled her face off me a second time, and I had to wait until her hair was out of the way to see she had actually coated me with her spit. She leaned back and pushed herself away from the window until her head was lying on the seat. Her ass was against my thigh, her left leg she shoved behind me, her right propped up.

"OK," she said simply, grinning sheepishly at me. I turned myself and sat cross-legged between her legs. I reached up and pulled her thong over those hips and down her legs which she lifted giving me a view beyond those gaping lips. Meanwhile, I was grinning like a kid in a candy store. Well, in essence that was where I was. I pushed her leg a bit wider then ducked my head into her cunt. She was trimmed and had left only the faintest notion of a red-blonde pubic patch. I was pleased to cause my own gasp of surprise when my lips met those of her vagina. She was like fire on my mouth. I dipped my tongue straight into her and she arched her back and moaned. I tried to remember the other girl's I'd gone down on, and for the life of me I could swear none of them had such an intense heat rising from their body. In, their body. My tongue immediately felt that heat as I dipped it in and then pushed my mouth down harder to increase my depth. I left my face buried hard and flicked my tongue up and down her slit in the shallow depths of her steaming snatch. All the while, Shirsten moaned and gyrated her hips. She was running her right hand through my hair occasionally pushing my head harder against her mons when my tongue met a particularly sensitive area.

"Oh God, there," she said, and I concentrated my tongue flicks with greater fervor. When my tongue tired I sucked her labia and began plumbing her with one and then two fingers. I gently fucked her with my index and middle and smashed the flat of my tongue against her clit, rubbing the tiny nub back and forth over my tastebuds. Shirsten was near jitters at this point and had her bra pushed down under her tits and was twisting her nipples. On a particularly good note, she would bend at the waist and arch her mid-back well off the seat. I found this especially sexy, looking up from her pussy to watch her hips and stomach rise and her tits thrust upward. Those nipples were so hard they seemed capable of cutting holes in the car's ceiling, each time she arched her back and propelled them upward.

"Hurry, I want to fuck you," she said suddenly. I was beyond the point of asking myself who this girl was. I decided I didn't want to know. She looked a lot like Shirsten and that was all that mattered. Except for a wee problem.

"I don't have a--" She cut me off.

"I'm on the pill."

"Uh-" I started.

"It helps when I'm having my period. It regulates my flow." OK then. I'd never heard anything like that before, but I was willing to trust blindly. I pulled myself up the seat and over her body. She reached down between us and grabbed my cock and jerked it twice. I could have shot a load down her cunt lips at that moment. She massaged the tip, greasing her hand before slicking my entire shaft. Then she actually leaned up and bit my lip as she spoke.

"Do me," she commanded lustily, suckling on my lip. I was literally on the fucking verge of complying, when a pair of headlights lit up the inside of the car. I recoiled and fell onto the floor, and grabbed what I thought were my pants, but actually hers, and had them pinned over my crotch. We both lay there in a still panic as a car door opened. I can hear those fucking feet on the gravel parking lot to this day, then the door closing.

"Shirsten!" a voice called. "Honey, you about?" I looked at Shirsten, my eyes wide. Shirsten, in-fucking-credibly, took my hand and placed it on her mound. She directed my middle finger into her canal. I stared at her wide-eyed as she mouthed My Dad. I was on the point of becoming religious when the footsteps started fading. Shirsten whispered.

"He's got to change and sign the deputy's reports." I sighed.

"Change? Sign what?" I looked a bit bewildered, precisely because I was.

"Yeah, well he is the sheriff." My life was going to end.

"We're getting dressed and I'm getting the fuck--" I pulled my finger from her cunt. She cut me off, grabbing my hand and stinking that finger into her mouth.

"Or we can finish what we started." If you look in a woman's purse sometime, I'm convinced you'll find it. Way down at the bottom. They sit neatly in a silver tamper-resistant case. Inside are three to five faces. These incredible faces that could, by no means, possibly belong to that woman sitting before you, but which she miraculously sports at times most unexpected. Shirsten was wearing Lust Face. Never in my life, have I ever seen a face so impossibly unrecognizable, yet so fucking irresistible. Shirsten? Now she wore it like it was going out of style.

"We have to finish. We'll be real fast. You'll like that won't you." Fast? Well, sure it had a certain ring to it. She took my finger up to the knuckle, her tongue wrapping it.

"Look Shirsten, I don't know why it didn't occur to me until just now that your dad's the sheriff of the fucking town, but I'm not about to have him find me ON... IN, his daughter, IN a patrol car!" I was still whispering, but I hoped I was making an impression on her, besides the one on her tongue. But, no. She leaned over, popped my finger from her mouth and stuck her tongue in my mouth! Can you imagine the gall? She kept her face close, her breath hot and sweet on my lips and said,

"When will we have this chance again? All you have to do is get on top of me. Put it in, fuck me, and then come. It's pretty simple, right?" Fuck and Come. Those two words, the way she said them, the way I can still hear them... Why don't women run the world? Oh wait...

I threw her pants against the other side of the car, and literally leapt up from the floor and between her legs to a shower of giggling kisses. I grabbed my cock, rubbed it up her slit twice, and slide it home. We both lay there a minute as I sunk deeper and deeper into her snatch, her body swallowing me hungrily. Our mouths were touching and we breathed hard, but all concentrations were on the feeling below. My mind slammed into action and I began pounding her quickly slickening vagina. Each time I slammed against her, I hated her and loved her at the same time. Hated her for having put us, ME at such risk. Loved her because I wanted to fuck her now and always. Hated her for being the sheriff's daughter. Loved her for being so fucking hot. Her cunt milked me and I pounded harder. The thought that her dad could walk out the door at any minute was a death-defying thrill. I saw him walking up to the car and gazing down through the fogging windows, wondering whose white ass was jack hammering the hole between his daughter's legs. Shirsten would no doubt, look up and wave. I felt like more like I'd kidnaped the king's daughter Robin Hood style, vowing to return her deflowered and gapped.

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