The family pet

CHAPTER SIX

Several blocks away, however, on Central Street, Karen Rogers was totally unaware of the obscene events taking place in her own house. She was trudging home dejectedly deep in her own thoughts, totally awkward and at sea. What was her mother going to say when she showed up so early from school? And how could she explain it?

You see, Mom, I got kicked out of school because Mrs. Brewster caught me masturbating in the girls' toilet.

No, she couldn't possibly say anything like that. But what would she say in excuse when her strait-laced mother was called to school and this embarrassing intelligence was offered to her? The young blonde teenager felt locked in a box from which there was no escape, and which seemed to be getting smaller by the second. She could think of no answers – there were only questions, building up without pause in overwhelming progression. Her life had suddenly become very complex indeed.

If only Mrs. Brewster hadn't caught her in the girls' room with two fingers slicing obscenely in and out of her hotly sucking little cunt. If only Johnny Magnus hadn't kissed her before class.

She could blame it on Johnny to some extent, she realized, and that even made her feel a little better. Because if he hadn't grabbed her in back of the coal chute that morning, and pressed her mouth open wide in a long, lingering kiss, with his tongue thrust between her teeth and lapping hungrily at her own tongue, her belly wouldn't have exploded like that. Oh God, the way he kissed her, rubbing his hand on her sensitively budding young breasts and grinding his loins hard up against her swollen pussy mound. Oh God, if that hadn't happened, then she wouldn't have had to go to the washroom and finger-fuck herself!

Of course, part of it had begun that morning. The little situation between her father and herself, when he had pressed his thigh tight into her loins, had turned her right on! And she hadn't been able to get her mind off the big stiff member she had felt bulging against her leg as they clinched. She just bet that he blew mother's head off with that, and she had been jealous at the thought as well as excited by the feel.

So that really Johnny Magnus' obscene French kiss had just been the finishing blow. She had almost strangled on his tongue, but she had left him huffily with her loins simply awash with excitement and her cuntal lips itching desperately. Consequently for almost all morning she was excusing herself to go to the toilet, and claiming that she didn't feel too well, in order to justify this.

Then the minute she had closed the door to her little cubicle, she sat down on the toilet seat, spread her legs wide and wormed her fingers down into the snug elastic strip of her panties to get at her wildly seeping pussy lips. After rubbing her middle finger in and out of her desire-engorged cunt, making a sluicing sucking noise that seemed to fill the bathroom. She then inserted a second finger and spent several more lewd minutes driving them both in and out between her trembling legs, thinking of everything sexy that she could – her father, Johnny, and even that German shepherd her mother had set out a plate of food for that morning. After calming herself down, she returned to class.

But Mrs. Brewster must have become somewhat suspicious at all her hasty exits that morning, because the last time Karen left the room, apparently she was followed. And just as the unsuspecting young girl settled down into a perfectly dreamy rhythm of slicing three fingers up and down and in and out of her burning vagina and was almost on the verge of a beautiful fulfilling orgasm, the door to the cubicle had been jerked open, and there was Mrs. Brewster, a look of pure rage on her ordinarily placid features.

"So! Young lady!" the mortified matron had exclaimed. "This is how you look after yourself, you filthy minded creature! I might have suspected as much. And here I was coming to ask if you felt sick enough to go to the school nurse! Of all the…"

"Mrs. Brewster, I can explain…"

"No explanations are necessary! You will bend over at once and present your bare bottom to my belt, young lady! And be quick!"

"But Mrs. Brewster…" Smack! Her teacher had given her such a slap in the face that the pretty platinum-haired teenager had hustled to comply with her imperious directive, quickly slipping her white nylon panties down around her knees and spreading her legs so that she was bent over slightly with her hands planted flat against the wall over the toilet.

"Mrs. Brewster…" she had tried to protest again, but to no avail.

The enraged teacher's voice was harsh and firm and dominating! "You have misbehaved by masturbating here with your fingers deep in your cunt, Karen… and there is absolutely no excuse for you. A nice lady keeps her fingers where they should be, and to teach you that, I'm going to beat the devil out of you!"

As she spoke, Mrs. Brewster undid the thin black patent belt of her dress and buckled it up into a wicked-looking loop. Then she began slapping lightly at her bare pink bottom with the shiny side of the black leather belt.

But it hadn't hurt as much as Karen had expected and indeed after awhile it seemed merely a feather stroke – but a feather which was suffusing a deep warmth of enervating desire throughout her sensitive young loins with each small slap.

At first she couldn't actually believe it was happening, but it was true. For as Mrs. Brewster "spanked" her, her cuntal region began to feel more aroused rather than less, until finally she was squirming with desire and fairly gurgling with happiness, her moist cuntal furrow becoming all drippy and trickling thick white moisture down her shivering long pale legs.

"You will be good, you little wanton heathen! You will be good! Say it!"

"Oh yes, I'll be good, Mrs. Brewster! Please let me up! I won't do it again!"

"You'd better not, or I'll whip that smooth little bottom of yours, do you understand?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Brewster! I understand! Only let me go! Please!"

And with that, the "punishment" suddenly ceased. Her teacher walked up behind her, threading her fingers into her thirteen year old charge's silky bright hair and fingering it as if it were money. Then Karen felt the older woman's hand smooth down over her harshly stinging buttocks, almost obscenely patting and manipulating her smooth young flesh.

"Is that better, dear?" the teacher asked cooingly into Karen's small, shell-like ear, her breath making the girl shiver.

"Yes – yes, Mrs. Brewster, I'll be all right now." And then she had struggled to her feet and managed to get her thin white panties on as Mrs. Brewster's hands continued to wander all over her quivering young hyper-sexed body.

"You know, you'll have to bring your mother to school, dear."

"Yes, I know."

Why had Mrs. Brewster kept touching her so knowledgeably and so boldly all over, Karen wondered. But she supposed that was just her way of comforting. Finally the mortified teenager broke from the little cubicle and ran sobbing from the girls' room, pausing only at her locker to pick up her coat and purse. Then she'd left the school building as fast as her legs would carry her, with Mrs. Brewster's voice still ringing in her ears, "Wait, Karen!"

She had been too ashamed to look back, and now here she was, walking down Central Street on her sorrowful way home.

She paused briefly to feed the pigeons in Wilmette Park, but she really couldn't think of much to do to further delay her arrival home. Maybe she should go home and take a nap, anyway. She would masturbate in her own bed much better, anyway.

"Hello little girl."

Karen looked around. There was a little old man seated at the bench next to hers in the park. Not only was he old, but he was very dirty looking. A classic dirty old man, in fact. With short grizzled white whiskers, rather beady blue eyes staring at her, and just a trace of spittle on his ancient lips. He was rather bent over, too, as if he needed a good month in traction to straighten him out. In fact, bent over like this he looked even shorter than she was.

"Hello," she said mildly, wondering why he had spoken to her. Surely he couldn't smell her perfume from all the way over there. Maybe he was just lonely. It couldn't hurt to talk to him.

When she said hello in response to his greeting he immediately shifted from his bench to hers. Now he crossed his legs and looked around, just a foot or so separating them on the park bench. Why did he keep looking at her like that?

"Like some nice candy, little girl?" he asked, rattling a little white bag at her.

"Sure," she said, letting him pour a handful of the white-wrappered candies into her hand, and thinking at the same time of the many warnings her mother had given her about talking to strangers. Surely, though, this guy was just being nice. She sat back against the back of the bench with the breeze blowing her fine platinum hair around her shoulders and her mini-skirt up over her well-formed thighs until the upside-down peak of her panties were showing where it covered her still throbbing pussy mound. Hurriedly Karen pushed her skirt down again, and then began unwrapping one of the pieces of candy from its wax wrapper. It turned out to be a sticky chewy sort of stuff, and she wasn't too fond of it, but on the other hand she wanted to be sociable.

"Y're out of school early, aincha?" the man said after a bit, edging closer to her on the warm wooden bench in the bright spring sunshine.

"Uh, yeah… uh, teacher's meeting," she stammered. God, she certainly couldn't tell him the real reason, could she!

Then suddenly the man slid the rest of the way across the park bench toward her and arched her shoulder with his bony arm.

"You're a nice little girl," he said, and Karen gave a muffled little cry and struggled to get away. But the man held her fast and spoke harshly in her ear. "Hold still, little girl. I just want to show you something I think you're going to like."

The old man cackled and Karen struggled even harder, but in vain. Suddenly he zipped down his pants and reached inside, pulling out the lengthy wizened shaft of his semi-rigid penis, and then reaching below it to drag out his almost shriveled testicles as well.

"See that!" he whispered, completely exposed now. "How do you like that!" And he grabbed her flailing hand and pressed it tight around the blood-swollen rod of his cock.

At first Karen was mystified. She had never heard of men who exposed themselves to young girls before. And my God, his penis felt thick and hot and hard, pulsing under her reluctant hand like a caged animal. But then after a few moments, the young teenager began to realize the potential danger of the situation she was in, and with a sudden wild scream and a violent lurch, she broke out of the man's temporarily relaxed grip. With her purse never removed from her shoulder, and her blonde hair flying, the frightened girl went running from the park without even a backward glance.

After that Karen must have walked for miles. The day had become quite balmy, and she went up Green Bay Road for a little bit trying to calm her nerves and get her breath back, then along the cobbles on Cockspur Street, and then later along Dobcroft Road in the direction of the lake.

Walking didn't seem to diminish her sadly banked sexual smoldering, however, and eventually she couldn't think of anything except how hot and obscenely thick that man's penis had been. Oh God, how good it would feel thrusting up between her legs! All she could think about was getting back to her house in a hurry and then finger-fucking herself like crazy! Oh but cripes, her mom would kill her for leaving school early, sure as anything. What on earth could she do?

She closed her eyes and tried to control the churning turmoil in her loins, but it was no use. Merely pressing her thighs closely together was no help. She needed some distraction.

Maybe she should go by to visit her Aunt Betty, her father's older sister, who lived not far from their house. Despite the fact that she was older than Karen's mother by a good margin, it was often Aunt Betty to whom Karen turned to confide in when things were not going well. And Aunt Betty was "hip" and wore bell-bottom trousers. She was very youthful for her age, and was the sort of modern person a young girl could talk to without feeling put off by her age.

Not that she wasn't attractive. Aunt Betty had long, light brown hair which she kept streaked sexily down the center, and it was often rumored that she took lovers during her frequent trips to Miami, ostensibly business trips required by her job, but really probably just to get away from her fat unkempt business-man-husband.

Aunt Betty was understanding. She was modern. Karen always felt instinctively as if she could confide in her. No matter how old her Aunt Betty got, she always understood young people. Which was something she couldn't say for her own mother, who often seemed to have stuffy, old-fashioned ideas.

So Karen got up from her bench laboriously and set off to see her swinging aunt. Aunt Betty would show how to advise her about this terrible, all-consuming sexual problem.