One of them took her everywhere. She wasn't allowed to go from the estate with Christine, even – Chester's wife, who did the cooking and cleaning and who had become her surrogate mother over the years.
Always one of the men. Sometimes Whit, but only in the daytime with him, and only after very close questioning by their grandfather, which always made Whit rant around like a brat and back-talk the old man in a way she wouldn't dare do.
The hassle they had to go through to get permission to go to a movie or somewhere just wasn't worth it any more, and she hadn't been out with Whit for a long time.
She'd thought of rebelling and carrying on the way Whit did. But that wasn't her. And she felt it wouldn't do any good anyway – because she was a girl. She knew in her heart that was part of the reason Whit had some freedom and she had none, that it wasn't all just because of the difference in their ages.
She was a girl, all right. The throbbing in her firm breasts and the tingling of her leaking pussy told her that.
The way Burke Hammond looked at her in school told her that, too.
Monica closed her eyes and drew forth an image of him. He had sandy hair, a good build, a tanned, outdoorsy way about him that was clean and good. When he smiled at her and talked to hem she felt as if she would melt all over, and she'd have to change her panties when she got home because of the slippery wetness that leaked from her thrilled pussy.
She moaned softly again and cupped her twat tightly with her hand, feeling it throb and tinge unbearably. Then she heard a soft whistle come over the stucco wall, and her heard pounded like a jackhammer.
She whistled back, softly and furtively, and she nearly leaped onto the arbor, curling her toes around the cypress, strips, climbing it swiftly. Her round buttocks flattened and slid against the wall as she went up and turned and bellied cautiously over the top of the wall, and her full tits nearly spilled from the halter.
She looked down and saw him standing there behind a thick clump of big-leaved seagrapes. He smiled in his handsome way and lifted his arms, urging her over the wall.
Monica scanned the vacant lot first. Louis sometimes cleaned up the vegetative litter, and it would never do to have him see her escaping the estate this way.
There was a waving stand of sea oats at the high tide mark, solitary palms curving gracefully against the Gulf and sky. There were dense clumps of seagrapes, palmettos, sturdy hibiscus shrubs, and feathery Australian pines. There were No Trespassing signs on the fences facing the street to discourage bathers, but they were not totally effective. Her grandfather owned this lot and the one on the other side of the mansion. He'd bought them long ago to keep anyone from building next to him.
Satisfied that the lot was empty, she glanced toward the street. From her high vantage point, she could see Burke's four-wheel pickup nosed into the bushes down the street.
She looked down at him again and smiled back happily. She didn't know why she felt so excited and tingly. Was it Burke Hammond who made her heart flutter and her pussy twitch damply, or was it the forbidden act of sneaking out – to see a boy?
She didn't care any more. She gave a final push and swung a trim leg up and over, feeling her pussy spread wide. With her front to the wall, she began lowering herself. She felt his hands on her thighs, strong and firm, as he helped her down.
Her breasts scraped along the wall, and the nipples burned inside the thin cups. His hands shifted to her asscheeks, and she gasped with the sensation as her weight bore against his open, cupping palms.
A thumb went between her thighs as she wriggled down the wall. It slipped into her deep, soft asscrack and then lodged right under her crotch.
"Ohhhhh, Burke…" she gasped.
"I've got you, Monica – come on, let go, I've got you," he puffed, planting his feet firmly, resting the side of his face against her firm buttock.
Monica glanced down her front. She saw his thumb sticking out from between her thighs like a short prick. She felt the way it pushed the material of her bikini right into the sweet, slippery gap between her pussy lips.
The sensation was unbelievable. She felt her whole belly surge with warmth and squirming. She felt as if she could just squeeze her thighs together tightly around his thumb and wriggle her ass in his hands until something wonderful happened.
She slid down the wall. Her halter caught on a small protrusion of stucco, and she felt it lifting away from the bottoms of her tits.
When the sand gave way under Burke's foot, she came down quickly. His hands slid up over her hips, pulling her bottoms terribly tight around her asscheeks and pussy lips. The halter lifted off her tits and made them spill free, and then his hands were cupping them tightly as they staggered together to keep from falling over.