The Treehouse – Chapter 9
The bell rang. I grabbed my trapper-keeper and hurried toward the door. The day had dragged on and on. I guess that’s to be expected on the first day back. I hurried to my locker, where I dropped off the notebook and textbook. There was no homework yet, so I left my backpack in the locker, slammed the door, and spun the lock. I was in a hurry to get to the bus parking lot.
“Well, if it’s not Ms. Ironing board herself,” a voice from a few lockers over grabbed my attention. I wanted to tell Cheryl to fuck off. But there were open classroom doors nearby and teachers didn’t put up with that kind of language.
I frowned, “You still here? I’d have figured you’d be dead from all the STDs you caught from the boy’s football team.”
She slammed her locker, “Same buttoned-down shirt, same blue jeans, same flat chest. And without Wendy’s face to suck this year, it’s going to be a long, lonely year for you.”
As I strode past her, I barely resisted the urge to push her into the lockers. I contented myself with another comeback, “Whatever. Why don’t you get off your feet and get back to work?”
I was halfway down the hall, when she shouted, “At least my mom’s not the town drunk.”
I stumbled and turned. How in the hell could Cheryl know? “What’d you say?”
She swung her backpack over one shoulder and walked past me, her wide hips swinging seductively for the boys in the hallway to see, “My cousin owns Rebel Liquor. Sees your lush of a mom coming in every few days buying booze. He said to thank her for keeping him in business.”
Mom was my responsibility and my shame. I hated Cheryl more than ever as I ran past her. My eye stung as I blinked away tears when I reached the parking lot. School buses lined the sidewalk in front of the junior high. I scanned the area and found my bus. As I jogged over, my eyes fell on Bryan. His face lit up when he saw me. He had changed little over the past three months. His hair was slightly longer, just past his shoulders. His green eyes sparkled like morning dew, “Hey, Erin. How was the first day back?”
I slid my hand into his, “Come on, Bry. Let’s find a seat. I’ll tell you about it on the bus.”
As I climbed onto the bus, Cheryl got into her mom’s Monte Carlo. When Bryan pulled me into an empty seat, he said, “What’s wrong?”
I hated how Cheryl had gotten under my skin. The bitch had no right. I squeezed the boy’s hand, “Cheryl just being Cheryl.”
He accepted the comment. Over the summer, we talked about everything. So, he knew how the popular girl and I traded insults. I changed the subject, “How was the first day of the seventh grade?”
Bryan shrugged, “I’ve had worse. When Danny called me names, I just thought about you.”
I hated how Bryan was teased. I had tried to talk him into cutting his hair, even though I liked its silky length. My hands ran through it over the weekend when we last spent the night in the treehouse together. I knew how the boys in Zavalla could be, and I wanted him to fit in and not get teased.
I shook my head, “Danny’s a douche. And unlike him, you have a girlfriend.”
I loved how Bryan’s heart-shaped face lit up. He was the best thing to happen to me since my dad died; over the summer, our worlds revolved around each other. We didn’t say much after that. The bus was pretty crowded, and we just kept to ourselves until the bus rolled to a stop at the end of the dusty road leading to our houses.
When the bus pulled away, kicking up a cloud of dust and diesel fumes, I slid my hand back into Bryan’s. “You want to come over? We can fix supper and hang out at the treehouse after.”
He squeezed my hand, “That’d be cool. I should let my granny know, so she’s not expecting me until later.”
“What about your mom?”
Bryan scoffed, “She’s picking up more shifts at the diner and hanging out with Jimmy Todd. Even if she was home, she wouldn’t pay me any mind. Yours?”
My skin grew warm, and it wasn’t from the hot September afternoon. I could have slapped Cheryl into the next county when she brought my mom into our spat. If anything, Mom had become even less able over the summer, lost in the misery and her booze. “We should check on her before supper.”
When we reached the rundown trailer, I followed Bryan inside. A window unit blew icy air across the living room, where his granny sat in her old recliner watching TV. I’d been there before. Dressed in a boy’s shirt and blue jeans and with my hair cut short, his granny thought I was just some boy Bryan had befriended. He went over to her, “Hey Granny, I’m going over to Eri-, Eric’s for a while. I’ll be home later.”
His granny reluctantly tore her rheumy eyes away from the television box and looked at the two of us. She drawled, “Don’t stay out too late.”
It never failed to amaze me how similarly Bryan and I were raised despite him living in a shitty trailer and me living in a nice three-bedroom ranch style home. We had spent the summer raising ourselves. And judging by what I saw at that moment, we were going to keep on raising ourselves. Not that I minded. I preferred the apathy on his granny’s face to involvement. Our relationship depended on our families’ self-absorption and indifference.
We walked the rest of the way to my house, bypassing the trail through the woods and the tree house. The road was more direct; faster. As we walked hand-in-hand down the drive, the sad state of the yard made me feel embarrassed. Not because it was worse than the weed-choked yard in front of Bryan’s trailer, but because of how far things had fallen since my dad’s death. He always took care of the front yard, cutting it every week or two. Now, the grass struggled against knee-high weeds. Even the house had an air of neglect. The paint on the shutters on either side of the front windows was flaking. The wooden trim desperately needed a fresh coat of paint.
I muttered, “She gets that life insurance money every month and social security for me. She could pay to have someone come and mow this place, slap some paint on the house, too. Instead, it’s Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo.”
Bryan’s fingers gripped mine, “It’s okay, Erin. It’s not your fault. And about five minutes ago, we both saw worse, right?”
A thin, painful smile worked its way across my face. I missed my dad so much at that moment. But seeing into Bryan’s aqua green eyes, I was thankful for him. I took his other hand in mine and stood beside my house and leaned in and kissed him. Sweat bathed our upper lips; our kiss was salty. But nothing made me feel better than this newly minted twelve-year-old. He was the one person who understood me.
When the kiss ended, he smiled up at me, “Well, maybe we can do something about it this weekend.”
He’s the one who pulled me the rest of the way around the house to the back door. It amazed me how a boy a year and a half younger than me could so effortlessly get me when nobody else did, and I let myself be pulled along.
We shivered when that first blast of arctic air hit us in the face. I wasn’t sure how Mom kept it so cold. I didn’t see her paying the bills, but figured somehow or another, through her drunken haze, she managed. After all, she also got to the grocery and liquor stores, too. Fuck Cheryl for reminding me that others saw the same thing.
Mom was in her place on the couch. The TV was on some soap opera. A TV dinner was on the coffee table, along with a couple of empty beer bottles. She opened her bleary eyes and looked up, “Hey, Erin. How was day? You kids go canoeing?”
After the entire summer, at least she remembered Bryan. I shook my head, “First day of school.”
She blinked her eyes in confusion, “Is it already that time? I-, I should take you shopping for school clothes.”
I shrugged, “Don’t you remember? You took me shopping a couple of weeks ago.”
It was a lie, but her memory was so bad, there was no point telling her how I lifted some money from her purse a couple of weeks before and went shopping for clothes with Bryan.
“I should have gotten you some better clothes. You look like a boy in that shirt, those pants.” There was more blinking as she marshaled her thoughts, “Did we pick you out a training bra? You’re thirteen…”
Her eyes glazed over and her brow furrowed, “And a half. You really want to start taking care of your appearance. Otherwise, boys won’t want anything to do with you.”
I lied again, “Yeah, we did.”
Bryan leaned against the frame of the doorway between the living and dining rooms. He snickered at the exchange. I shot him a dirty look.
Mom sank back against the sofa, “I’m going to watch the rest of this show. Be an angel and fetch me another Lone Star from the fridge.”
I turned and pushed Bryan toward the kitchen. His snicker turned into a giggle. “You in a bra?”
Had it been anyone other than Bryan, the comment would have hurt. But over the past ninety days, he’d seen my chest so many times, it didn’t matter that he laughed. I knew his heart. I opened the fridge, flipped him the bird along with a smile before grabbing a couple of beers.
After dropping the beers off with Mom, we headed back to my bedroom. Once the door was closed, I pulled Bryan to me and we kissed. For kids our age, three months can make an enormous difference in development and growth. Some boys in my class had grown half a foot over the summer. Some girls had gone up a cup size. I grabbed the hem of Bryan’s shirt and lifted it over his head. He may have added an inch to his height over the summer. It was difficult to tell, because I had also grown a bit taller.
I sat on my bed and drew him to me, working his zipper down with my practiced fingers, until his white briefs came into view.
He stammered, “Y-your mom!”
“She’ll drink those beers and then pass out, Bry. I want- I need this.”
The familiar bulge in his underwear sent a surge of desire through me, and I pushed his blue jeans down before grabbing his underwear and pushing everything down below his knees. His three inches pointed toward the ceiling, quivering in the cool air. His scent intoxicated me, and I was entranced by the smooth nail of flesh bobbing before my eyes.
I grabbed his butt-cheeks and pulled him toward me as I opened my mouth. I let his forward motion do the work and when I closed my mouth, my lips sealed around the silky-smooth base of his dick. Some part of me basked in the pleasure of the boy’s largely unchanged body. In the back of my mind, I knew neither of our bodies would remain unchanged and prepubescent for long. Sure, I was still closer to thirteen than fourteen. But with each passing month, the odds of those changes only increased. Still, I wasn’t sure how I would respond to those changes when they finally arrived.
I pushed those thoughts aside as Bryan’s hips rocked back, sliding his three inches until only his glans remained trapped between my lips. He hissed in pleasure as my hands on his butt pulled him back to my face. I loved his taste; the hint of boyish odor mixed with the salt from his sweat drove my desire. Over the summer, I learned to use my tongue, my mouth’s natural suction, and the stimulation of moving him in and out to bring him to orgasm.
His pubic bone pushed against my nose while my tongue licked the underside of his boner, when he grabbed my short hair and pulled me even closer. His dick grew harder and then his body shook, radiating from his pulsating erection. I kept sucking and licking with each blank eruption until he sagged against me, drawing in ragged breathes after his dry cum.
While I trusted Mom to finish her beers before passing out, I didn’t want to delay in my bedroom too long. “Undress me, Bry. Show me you remember what I taught you about my body.”
Bryan’s eyes lit up and, still naked, he worked the buttons on my shirt loose and then pushed it off my shoulders. He stopped undressing me long enough to cup my buds in his hands, “Your nipples are bigger, Erin.”
There was a faint hint of swelling under my nipples; a promise of more growth to come. Maybe not buying a training bra when we went to the store was a mistake. But if it was, it was one for the future. I leaned my head back as Bryan worked my jeans down my legs. His eyes gleamed as he stared at the indention created by my slit in my panties. I loved the goofy smile on his lips, “Come on, Bry, take ‘em off.”
The boy made quick work of my panties. I sat on the edge of my bed and lay my head back. He spread my legs, giving him total access to parts with which he’d already grown familiar. When I felt his hot breath on my bald slit, I bit back a moan. He hadn’t even touched me and already I was wet and wanted him to pleasure me like I did him.
His tongue touched me, sliding between my outer lips, sending a shiver through me. It wasn’t the first time he’d eating me, but feeling his tongue on my outer pussy nearly gave me a little orgasm. He flicked the tip of his tongue across the nub of my clit. I moaned, “Fuck, again, Bry, again.”
His small tongue lapped and licked my nub, drawing out of me the tension of the day; making me forget about Cheryl. He was like a wave lapping against the shore, crashing against an invisible barrier. Each flick of his tongue sent a surge of energy through me, threatening to overwhelm the barrier. Then, with another flick of his tongue, Bryan did it. I shuddered, clamping his head between my legs. I moaned loud enough that I prayed Mom was too drunk to recognize an orgasm.
My juices seeped from my pussy; Bryan stopped working my clit as he moved deeper within my gash, lapping up my strong flavor. After another shuddering orgasm, I’d taken all the pleasure my body could stand, and I released his head and let him fall away.
When I sat up, I grinned. From the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin, his face was slick with my juices. His grin matched mine. “Fuck, Bry, that was incredible.”
He licked his lips, “I like your taste, Erin. It’s kinda weird, but still good.”
I’ve tasted myself a few times and for me, it was definitely an acquired taste. “Really?”
He flushed, “It’s kinda strong, like Tang. But what makes it better is because it’s you.”
After smacking his lips a few more times, he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom, leaving me to wipe myself clean and get dressed. When he came back out dressed in his school clothes, we hugged and kissed. There was a hint of musk in the air and it sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine, knowing what caused it. “Come on, Bry. Let’s go fix supper.”
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