Pansi Thursday and Thursdays past
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BecChapter 13 : Thursday Before School free porn video
Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.
“The thing that Bec has, is it the same?” She took a big breath.
“Does Bec have Lambrecht’s Syndrome?”
Everything inside of me froze.
I looked at Dad.
He looked at me.
And then, slowly, he shook his head.
He shook his head!
He shook his head?
Dad spoke to Liz, he ignored me. I sat there beside Liz like a ... I don’t know ... like a forgotten vase of flowers.
“The thing Bec’s mother has is a condition that only shows up occasionally. It’s nothing significant really; just a temporary aberration,” said Dad.
A temporary aberration?
“Bec, on the other hand, is completely stark raving bonkers,” said Dad calmly. “She’s as mad as a hatter. She’s a total loony.”
Liz nodded. “That’s what I thought!” She stood up, pulling me with her by my hand. “I’ll put her back in her room.”
I followed Liz like a well trained puppy or something. What choice did I have?
Dad stayed sitting in his chair. Angie stood beside him, holding onto his knee, and waved goodbye to Liz – she completely ignored me.
In my room, all the furniture was gone. It was an empty room with four walls; walls that were totally covered with paintings.
Dan was putting the last screw into bars that blocked my window. He patted them and looked at me with a smile. “These should keep you safely inside!” And then he left.
Mum was finishing the last painting. It was me, of course! She’d painted me naked, of course! In the painting, a collar ran around my neck and was fastened to a chain attached to a ring on the wall. I hunched there, filthy and unkempt. My hair all dirty and bedraggled, my eyes vacant and staring.
Every time I moved the chain clanked. The skin on my neck itched where the collar wrapped around it and I scratched at it with my rough and filthy nails.
The door opened and Mrs Billings entered, followed by a stream of students from my class. They all looked bored as she began pointing dismissively at all the paintings; pointing out flaws and criticizing the style. She mentioned that at least they were able to compare the model to the final result and gestured at me. I stood there naked, chained to the wall as all these people from school stared at me with curiosity and contempt.
I felt humiliated, ashamed. I tried to hide, but the clanking chain stopped me. I had no choice but to stand there pitifully and let them stare.
At this point, a little bit of my brain pointed out that I was probably dreaming.
I wasn’t convinced.
Hannah Fargo pointed at me and started laughing. “Hey look everyone! Look at the crazy girl – it’s no boobs Freeman!” Then she stopped and looked more closely, staring right at my chest. “No wait! I stand corrected! It’s one boob Freeman! Look everyone – she’s only got one boob. The weirdo loony girl with the stupid accent only has one boob.”
Now everyone was pointing and laughing. Jeering at me! I stood there pathetically trying to cover my chest with my arms.
I felt this shove from the side and I opened my eyes to see the floor looming up at me out of the dark.
I hit the floor with a thump – and probably a grunt.
I groaned and sat up. Moonlight spilled through my curtains sending a dim, soft light through the room. I could see enough to make out Liz spreadeagled over the entire bed. She was fast asleep and obviously occupying the place where I’d been sleeping.
Liz had pushed me out of bed!
Again!
My heart was racing; thudding in my chest like some huge drum. Memories from my dream of jeering and laughter still rang in my ears. I was wide awake. I glanced at my bedside clock – it was 3:10am. I had a memory of taking a pill to help me sleep. Well I guess I’d slept, but not for very long.
I perched myself on the edge of the bed and looked down at my sleeping friend in the dim light. I guess all I had to do was shift her sideways again and I could slide back into bed. The problem was I didn’t feel like sleeping at all. I remembered Liz wrapping her arm around me and promising to hold me all night – I stifled a laugh – gee thanks, Liz, some friend you are. Promise to hold me safe and protect me and then you push me out of my own bed!
I carefully pushed hair back off her face and pulled the blankets up to cover her shoulders. She looked so sweet lying there. She looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb her. I grabbed my white bath robe and put it on over my pyjamas. Then I went wandering through the house.
The house was still, silent, deserted. I felt like a ghost drifting through the living room. That line from that Christmas poem popped into my head, you know the one: “all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
In the kitchen I poured myself a glass of water and leant against the sink while I sipped at it. My mind went back to last evening. Everything seemed so fractured, so unreal. Most of it felt like a dream, but I was pretty sure I’d been awake – well sort of awake anyway. I still had no idea what had been going on. Maybe some of it was my brain experimenting with what might have happened, rather than what really did happen. The only problem was I had no idea what had been real and what was my brain playing tricks.
My brain extended a finger and prodded me. I seemed to be a bit fragile but otherwise okay – normal even – if you can call being wide awake and sitting in the kitchen at 3:20am in the morning normal. I was pretty sure my experiences last evening weren’t normal. The weird reality-bending seemed to have stopped, but the experience had left me feeling fragile. And the big problem hadn’t gone away, the problem I didn’t want to think about, the big life-long problem that now hung over my head. Part of me wanted my mummy to hold me and kiss it better and tell me everything would be okay. I knew that would never happen. I knew this was something that couldn’t be kissed away. It was the child in me that wanted my mummy and I wasn’t a child any more.
I left the empty glass by the sink and drifted through the house. The door to The Parents’ room was ajar. Silently I slipped inside and stood in the dark near the base of their bed. Mum and Dad were fast asleep, both snoring quietly in unison. They were each sleeping on their own side of the bed with a big gap between them. I’d slept with both Tara and Liz over the last three nights and each time we’d slept huddled together – though admittedly Liz had ended up pushing me out of bed – twice. Did Mum and Dad sleep hugging and holding each other when they were first married but now they slept in the same bed but apart? Was this what happened to married people? I’d only slept with girls. Was it different when you slept with a guy in your bed?
The child in me wanted to crawl up onto the bed between my parents and sleep cradled in the safety of their arms, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I crept out of the room and carefully and quietly pulled the door closed behind me. The ghost that was me drifted restlessly around the house. Was this what it really means to grow up? I’d thought growing up was about getting bigger and sex stuff. I was learning that growing up meant that you found out there was stuff in the world your parents couldn’t chase away with a hug and a kiss.
Growing up sucks!
Dan’s door was closed. I pressed my body against the door, yearning to feel his strength. How many times had Dan propped me up, encouraged me, supported me, or just held me? Maybe that was what I needed now. But the door was closed and it was the middle of the night. I gripped the door handle and turned it slowly, inch by inch. I heard the faintest of click sounds and the door swung open.
On silent feet I crept into the room and perched on Dan’s computer chair. It swivelled so I could turn and stare at Dan’s sleeping form. In the dim, moonlit room I could make out Dan lying on his stomach, his arms outstretched. The blankets were slid down to his waist, revealing his naked back. Dan usually slept in boxers. I knew that, but I wondered if he was cold lying like that without even blankets covering him. I could hear his heavy breathing, not quite snoring but close, and I could see his back raising and falling in time with the breathing. Laid out like he was, Dan’s big shoulder and arm and back muscles looked like solid granite in the dim moonlight. That was appropriate – Dan was like my rock that I could cling to whenever my life felt out of control. Like now for instance.
But Dan’s face was turned away from me and he was fast asleep – oblivious of my need. I would have to save myself. I sat twisting the chair slightly back and forth – little movements while my eyes watched Dan sleep. I sat and watched and took what comfort I could from watching him. The sister in me wanted to pull the blankets up so he’d be warm. The little girl in me wanted to wake him and crawl into his arms so he could hold me. The artist in me wanted to draw the clean lines of his sculpted back. The woman in me wanted to run my fingers over those strong muscles. To touch, to hold, to kiss ... I squashed that thought, he was my brother and that was just ... wrong.
I turned away, angry with myself. How terrible am I that I couldn’t watch my brother sleeping and stay ... I don’t know ... innocent. What was wrong with me? I mean apart from that ... apart from that big thing that hung over me like a storm cloud, what else was wrong with me? Surely there was something wrong with me (something else I mean) if I had thoughts like that about my brother?
Dan’s computer sat on the desk in front of me. I was expecting it to be completely dark but the power light was glowing orange; it was asleep and not off. I gripped the mouse and moved it. After a moment’s delay, the power light turned green and the screen slowly came to life, revealing Dan’s cluttered computer desktop, glowing in the darkness of the room. I shook my head in disbelief. Still no password? Dan, what will we do with you?
Out of sheer curiosity I opened up the web browser and clicked on the last page in his history list. As I suspected it would, the screen filled with the image of a naked woman with big round breasts. Her eyes were closed and her legs were wide open and draped over the edge of a bed covered with pale blue sheets. She had no pubic hair so you could see all the bits of her ... pussy. I guessed she must be a swimmer or something like that so she had to shave all her pubic hair off. One hand was on her stomach, the other on her breast; both hands seemed to be rubbing some sort of cream into her skin which glistened in the lights of the camera.
I clicked back to the previous picture. Now her eyes were half open and she stared from under her eyelids into the camera. The cream was now visible, sitting in pearly strings across her breasts and stomach. I wondered what that was all about. Do boys find it sexy to watch a girl put skin cream on? I glanced over at Dan, sleeping in the dull glow of the computer screen. I kind of got that he liked to look at pictures of naked girls with big boobs, but this was strange. Did he find it sexy to look at this picture? Would I find it sexy to watch someone putting skin cream on? I shook my head. Dan was a boy and sometimes boys were such a mystery.
I clicked back to the previous picture and as soon as it loaded, pulled my head back slightly in surprise. The edge of the picture was filled with some man’s hip. I knew it was a man because jutting out and filling up half the screen was his gigantic penis. It was fully erect and looked ... I don’t know ... angry maybe? The end was a very dark purple color and big veins stood out all the way down its length. Out of the end was spurting ... oh!
The other half of the picture was a close up of one of her breasts with some of that stuff already on it. I felt so stupid. Now I knew what it was – not skin cream at all. I knew about how guys squirted stuff when they had an orgasm and how that stuff had their sperms in it. I just hadn’t recognized it when I saw it sitting there on her skin. I felt so stupid. I’d thought it was skin cream. Add that to the list of stupid things Bec does or says or thinks! That list was already way too long by the way.
I was still confused though. I stared at the picture as if it would somehow answer my questions. Why was he squirting it onto her breasts? And why was she rubbing it in and looking happy about that? That seemed a bit gross to me. Though the last thing I thought would be gross, Mum had said ‘Don’t knock it til you try it!’ – I don’t think she’d meant for me to hear that though.
I glanced over at Dan’s sleeping form. Did Dan ever do that with one of his girlfriends? I pretty well assumed he did sex stuff with them but did he do this? Did Dan ever squirt his sperms onto some girl’s breasts? Did she rub it in like skin cream? Did she find it sexy? Did he? And anyhow, why wasn’t the penis inside the girl’s vagina when he squirted? Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Everything I knew about sex stuff, which wasn’t all that much I guessed, said that the people in the picture were doing it all wrong! He was supposed to squirt inside of her. I looked back at the picture. The penis looked so big! Maybe it didn’t fit!
I was pretty sure it wouldn’t fit into me! How could something that big fit inside? Maybe it didn’t. And maybe when it didn’t fit, the man was disappointed so he let his sperms fall on her skin instead.
Something about this wasn’t right and the picture wasn’t answering my questions. Men and women made babies all the time and to do that the man had to squirt off inside the woman. I knew that. It didn’t make sense that a man’s penis wouldn’t fit! Tara said the first time she did it had hurt. Maybe now I knew why. Maybe the first time the man had to make the hole bigger so it would fit in. Or was there something I was missing? I hated being so ignorant. More and more, growing up seemed to involve finding out how ignorant you really are.
Tammi
- 24.08.2020
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