Archive-name: SpecMome/livinia4.txt
Archive-author: Friar Dave
Archive-title: Livinia - Part 4


     She'd told the truth: I couldn't imagine. I saw her with boys her 
age -- at the time, about twelve. I saw her with men. I saw her with 
women. I saw her with girls. I saw her with boys and girls. And men and 
women. And men and girls. And men and boys. And women and girls. And 
lots of girls. And lots of boys. And lots of women. And lots of men.
     The footage was grainy and the transfer to videocassette hadn't 
helped. No matter. The camera-person had been good and  possessed
stamina. I watched her fuck and suck and sometimes fuckandsuck and saw 
her lick and be licked and take it in front and behind and in the mouth 
and all combinations of all three. I saw her play with herself, with 
others, with many others, saw them play with her. I watched her use a 
dildo, two dildos, a dildo and a person of one sex or another and toward 
the end I watched her do everything at once and then some, things that 
turned my stomach, things that belong in the bathroom and not in the 
face and on the body of a drugged child.
     And she seemed to enjoy it all and at the end was asking for more.
     At some point, part of me got numb and I began to analyze. Even 
then, the abnormal size of her clitoris had gotten a lot of attention. 
Even then, she'd been sexy. Seeing her cumming gave me a hard-on and she 
came a lot. The hard-on was cured during the part where she was impaled 
-- for want of a better word -- on two rather large cocks at once. 
Because when they were done, there was some blood on each of the dicks, 
which meant she'd been hurt and that meant she'd been pained and that 
pissed me off. They'd known she was being hurt and continued using her. 
Abusing her.
     And she'd begged for more. Pleaded. Wept. For more.
     Even in the grainy footage, it was obvious she was stoned out of 
her skull. As lovely and sweet as her twelve-year-old body had been, 
there was always the knowledge that this was a person and had not chosen 
any of this.
     Some of the other girls and one of the other women were lovely, 
too. One of the girls, in particular -- heavily Chinese by her looks -- 
was unbelievably sexy, though she couldn't have been more than thirteen 
or fourteen. She seemed to really enjoy licking cunts and clits and 
seemed to get off -- eventually -- on having a cock rammed into her cunt 
or on sucking a cock till the cum overflowed her sweet lips.
     And I had to wonder what her story was, too, even as my hard cock 
poked up between the folds of my robe.
     At the end of the tape, I turned off the TV and switched off the 
VCR and sat there in the dark, smoking a cigarette and drinking cold 
Irish coffee (which, when hot, is terrific and when cold is awful).
     Just as I stubbed out the butt, the doorbell rang. I roused myself 
and went to the kitchen to buzz her into the building. I took the keys 
from the door and went into the hallway, still clad in my robe, and 
looked down through the space between the flights of stairs. She stepped 
into the light of the first floor lamp, three storeys below. She looked 
up at me, holding a shopping bag in each hand. The flowers of a stalk of 
celery stuck out of the top of one bag.
     "Do you want me to come up?" 
     Her voice seemed to echo from near and far, as if at the edge of a 
sheer drop.
     I held the keys out and dropped them three storeys. They fell at 
her feet. 
     "Those are my keys."
     She stared a moment longer and then tears welled up and one fell 
down her perfect, lovely cheek and then she nodded and picked up the 
keys and I waited just inside the door to my home. She didn't need the 
brass keys to enter. She already had the keys because my door was open.
     She stood there holding the two shopping bags. "You watched?"
     "Every second."
     "And you want me?"
     "Just as much."
     She stepped into my foyer and put the bags down. She closed the 
door and turned to me. "You were shocked?"
     "No."
     "You could imagine -- "
     "I could imagine, but some of it I do not like to imagine."
     "And some you do?"
     I thought about it, then nodded. "Yes, some of it turned me on. Not 
all, but some."
     She considered this for a long time.
     "Listen, what are we supposed to do with all this stuff?" I asked.
     She almost giggled. "You are going to cook."
     "Me?"
     "I can not; I am a lousy cook."
     "I know," I said gravely and then she laughed and then we were 
hugging each other.
     Finally she said the food had to be stored or it would go bad. I 
grabbed the two bags and carted them into the kitchen. She was behind 
me. My alleged cat, hearing someone at the door, mugged our ankles in 
the dining room and we had to stop and pay toll (in belly and jowl rubs) 
before we continued.
     As I put the food away, she said sometimes it was difficult to be 
away from her kid for so long. Even when Sabrina went to stay over at a 
friend's house, she missed her desperately. 
     I nodded. "Your kid is terrific."
     "And she is growing into a woman."
     "A beautiful woman. As beautiful as her mother."
     She handed me a yellow pepper for safekeeping in the crisper. "And 
sexy?"
     I stored the peppers, closed the refrigerator and faced her. "Yes, 
she is getting to be sexy, and acting sexual, too."
     She held my gaze for a long moment. "It worries me she may be too 
much like her mother."
     "She could do worse."
     "No -- she is too young!"
     "To do the same things at the same age, yes, she's too you. But I 
think you're terrific." I pulled her toward me, but she pulled away.
     "You would like to puck her?"
     "In a year or so, if she keeps developing the way she is, my cock 
and balls will want her -- but my head and heart run me, not my dick. 
She's a kid, a young child becoming a woman and too damn young, no 
matter how much she turns me on. And she will and does turn me on! I 
won't pretend she doesn't!"
     Livinia stood like a statue.
     "She is a woman and lovely and sweet and I like her and I am a man 
and I am going to react to her, and that's the way it is! But that does 
not mean I have to do whatever my gonads tell me -- and I like to 
believe I am more than a cock and balls...or is that all you think I 
am?"
     Her eyes were very wet.
     "Well? Is it? Am I just a dick to you?"
     She was silent.
     "Am I, dammit?"
     She shook her head, slowly, then firmly.
     "Can you trust me in this?" I forced calmness into my voice.
     "I don't know..."
     "Livinia, I want you to be my lover and my friend. But I want no 
part of that if you re going to be uneasy about this."
     She looked at me for a long time. Then she nodded. "I -- I will 
trust you."
     I pulled her into my arms and this time she came willingly and 
pressed her face against my shoulder and shook as she wept.
     After a little while, I said, "Livinia, I'm hungry. Can we please 
eat some dinner?"
     I felt her nod. We disengaged and she excused herself to the 
bathroom and then scurried to the bedroom. By the time she came out, I 
had put the water up to boil some rice and was cleaning and chopping 
some veggies and had the microwave nuking some frozen chicken cutlets to 
sliceable tenderness.
     "What do you want me to do?"
     She was in my blue robe again. Her eyes were puffy and red. The 
rain had ended sometime earlier, but the humidity had made a mess of her 
hair. She was a mess. She was gorgeous, standing there in my kitchen and 
I thought of what I'd seen on the tape and what we'd done together and 
what she'd told me and the day's enjoyment...
     ...and her sister...
     ...and many, many other things and I was very glad she was there.
     "Mmmm, I'd like you to wash and clean the celery and tell me where 
you've been for two hours."
     "I was shopping."
     "I know that. But in two hours, you had time to harvest and grade 
the produce. Shopping took about a half hour."
     "I will tell you...Daveed, we are making a lot of pood to eat." 
     "I've seen you eat."
     She laughed. 
     I stepped over to her and put my finger against her lower lip and 
pushed it into her teeth. "'Food'," I said.
     "Vood."
     I shook my head.
     "Food." I took my finger away and she duplicated it. Watching her 
lips on her finger gave me another hard-on. She smiled and sidled up 
close to me. I didn't scream. Her hand went into the folds of my robe 
and gripped my cock. 
     "Are you ravishing me?"
     She smiled and pulled lightly on my cock. "Mmmmm -- I like this 
penees."
     "It likes you."
     "Perhaps I should practice my speech with it."
     "Not until after we eat some dinner."
     "Oh, you are able to wait?"
     "I am VERY hungry."
     She released my cock, pushed my robe back into place and resumed 
washing celery. "You would not be willing to wait if my sister was doing 
that with your pe -- with your cock."
     "Right now I would."
     She turned and faced me, hipshot, and  look of skepticism and 
challenge in her face. "Oh? You would not like to puck my sister?"
     That snapped it. "Dammit, woman, you ask me if I want to puck your 
little girl and if I want to puck -- to fuck -- your little sister, now 
what the hell is it with you? It's you I want and that's why you're 
here!"
     "So, you say my little girl turns you on but my little sister does 
not?"
     I took out the brandy and a glass, dumped a slug into the glass and 
downed it. Then I did it again, all the time thinking that this was a 
really terrific thing to do on an essentially empty stomach -- five 
belts of brandy and deal with a stressful situation. For an encore, I 
could try hitting myself in the head with a ballpeen hammer.
     "Okay," I said and put down the glass. "Okay. Now listen up. Your 
sister is beautiful. She has an amazing body. She is a wet dream come 
true. If I found her naked in my bed, I would not, repeat, not kick her 
out. But I asked you to come up here, twice, and it's you I want in my 
bed. If you can't handle that and this is going to keep coming up, I 
think we better call it a night, okay?"
     "But suppose -- "
     My patience ended right then and there. I stalked out of the 
kitchen, got her tape from the VCR, her coat from the bedroom closet and 
slung her clothing over my arm.
     "What are you doing?"
     "No, it's what you're doing: Getting dressed and getting out. I 
told you twice and that's it. Leave."
     She took her stuff and laid it on the bed. "I -- I am sorry. I was 
testing you to -- "
     "Testing me!!???!" I reminded myself that she might have reason not 
to trust a man easily.
     She nodded and looked down. "I had to be sure about you before I 
told you the rest."
     "The rest? What rest?"
     While Alicia was away at school, she had learned about some things 
from the upper-class girls who comprised most of the students. She had 
learned, notably, that it could be as much fun to play doctor with a 
girl as it was with a boy. And she'd taken to it. On one of her visits 
home -- two years after Sabrina was born -- she'd asked her older, more 
worldly wise sister about doing it with men. Alicia already knew about 
the birds and bees, but she had some misconceptions. Livinia cleared 
them up as best she could. She asked Alicia a few questions and was a 
bit shocked at what she learned. At fourteen, and  already  fully
developed and then some, Alicia had never been with a man. She'd quickly 
been subsumed into a little clique of lesbians and they'd told her 
horror stories of what men and boys would do and what it was like...
     "She started to doubt and she asked me," Livinia explained. And 
then she genuinely shocked me. She had played doctor with her sister 
when she was twelve.
     "She liked the way I made her feel and she did it to me."
     Essentially, they had masturbated each other, but when Alicia came 
home, she was fully experienced with women. Livinia slowly drew her out 
and Alicia confessed that she had always like  enjoying  slippery
pleasures with her older sister. And she remember clearly that Livinia's 
clitoris was so large and lickable...
     Before the evening ended, they were sucking and licking  and
fingering each other.
     "I shock you?"
     I nodded. "Yeah, a little. Two girls doing it -- well, that's not 
so odd. It's almost innocent when it happens naturally and it's kind of 
exploring and curious. But this other time, you both knew what you were 
doing."
     And how. After that, every chance they got on Alicia's holidays, 
they slipped into each other's arms (and pussies and mouths, etc.) 
     She stopped and looked at me.
     I suddenly understood. Well, five shots of brandy on an empty 
stomach dulls the wits, so give me a break.
     "You still do it."
     She nodded.
     "You did it while she was visiting."
     She nodded.
     I saw the light. "And the reason it took two hours to buy thirty 
minutes' worth of groceries was -- "
     She nodded. "Are you angry?"
     I shook my head. "Jealous."
     "Of her or of me?"
     "Both. Is Alicia jealous?"
     "Both."
     That took a few seconds to sink in. I was kind of thrown. I mean, 
look, I'm not some stud women fall all over. Good-looking, maybe even 
handsome, but Kevin Costner doesn't lay awake at night worrying about 
competition from me. In fact, a recent survey showed that nine out of 
ten women would have no trouble at all restraining themselves from 
ripping off their clothes and approaching me on their knees, and the 
tenth woman surveyed was selling it for drugs.
     "What are you thinking?"
     I swept the pornographic images from my head and shrugged. "You are 
going to have to work things out with Alicia. If I have to choose, I 
choose you."
     She smiled shyly and nodded at the floor, then held her hand out to 
me. "Thank you."
     I guess I kind of blushed. She was thanking me for finding her more 
desirable than a beautiful young woman who'd always preferred women to 
men. This was like being thanked for preferring a 'Vette with a tank of 
gas to a Jag XKE with an empty tank. Either one is gorgeous, but you 
know the 'Vette will start when you turn the key.
     I took her hand and led her back to the kitchen.  I  resumed
preparing food. After a few moments, she asked to use my phone. I 
assented, of course. She went into my home office and made her call. The 
conversation was in Tagolog.
     "I wanted to check and see if my kid was okay."
     "And?"
     "She is."
     "Good. Say, have you ever been to a baseball game?"
     She confessed ignorance about the Arcana Majora of baseball and we 
talked about the kinds of games that were popular in the Philippines and 
she kept glancing at the clock.
     At ten minutes to ten, we were talking about the price of housing 
going up despite a so-called depressed market -- and she changed the 
subject. "Daveed, a little while before, when we talked in the bedroom, 
you said something. Do you remember?"
     "Most of it." I explained about the brandies.
     She laughed.
     "What in particular, lovely Livinia?" I was about to start heating 
the peanut oil in the wok.
     "Please do not be mad at me, but I -- " The bell rang.
     "Who the hell -- "
     She went to the button and pressed it, then went to the door and 
called down in Tagalog. I remembered the phone call she'd made and 
freaked out. I put down the peanut oil and hurried to the entrance door 
of my apartment. "I'm not dressed for your kid to see me --  "  I
protested.
     "Not my kid," she said. "My kid is staying with Evelyn."
     "Who -- "
     "My sister. Do you mind? I had to be sure about you before I told 
you the last thing."
     What could I do but stare and nod, my mouth hanging open, as I 
considered what she'd said. Her sister? The last thing? 
     What "last thing"?

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