Chapter 1


The spring sunshine was bright and the flirtatious west wind brought a
whiff of salt air to her nostrils as Jill Conklin stepped out the door
of the garrish pink stucco house on Bay Street and headed down the hill
towards Aquatic Park, a battered wooden paint box and large sketch pad
under one arm, a webbed folding chair and wooden stool under the other
one. She felt an exuberance bubbling through her young body and a
curious sense of anticipation, as though something were about to
happen. She had felt it since she first awoke in the musty, rose
wallpapered room she rented in the eccentric widow's home. Josephine
was a "character," a non-stop talker who was into metaphysical digests
and painting rocks for her baroque garden, but the rent was dirt cheap
-- fifty bucks a month -- and Jill had kitchen privileges. Fortunately,
Josephine retired to her own bedroom at 7:00 each night with a vintage
Zenith black and white television set, so the young girl was spared
hours of occult monologues -- no one ever conversed with Josephine; one
listened and nodded one's head.

Still, it was somewhat depressing being in the house, whose furnishings
were redolent with time. The grand piano was sadly out of tune; the
brocade divan was never sat upon. Josephine lived in the kitchen, where
the gas stove provided the only heat in the house. For one so old, she
apparently had good circulation. Jill nearly froze to death, and had to
wear warm socks and flannel nightgowns to bed. At times, her fingers
got so cold she could barely sketch, until she found a cheap old
electric heater for $4.00 at a garage sale and ecstatically lugged it
home. Josephine seemed almost hurt!

Now, as she walked purposefully past Ghirardelli Square, she felt
relieved to be away from her often lonely and tomblike digs. The sun
caressed her young scrubbed face, her glossy long brunette waves and
the alluring curves of her nubile eighteen year old body. She couldn't
fail to notice the admiring looks she drew from both men and women, as
she strode proudly down the hill, her pert, braless breasts jostling
provocatively under a saffron yellow tank top, and the ripe mounds of
her buttocks swaying deliciously in the skin-tight, paint-spattered
jeans.

There were street musicians, magicians, tourists, peddlers of every
sort and couples walking hand in hand. They all paid tribute to her
with their eyes, and some spoke to her with comments and suggestions --
both clean and dirty. She had grown accustomed to this sort of
attention, and fielded both looks and remarks with aplomb. It was great
for the ego and yet, she knew how lonely she really was being a young
girl away from home, away from Chris and very much alone in San
Francisco. The couples who sat sprawled on the sloping green of the
park gave her a pang of remorse, as she remembered Chris ... and those
wickedly exquisite nights in her bedroom in Kansas City ...

* * *

Jill's heart fluttered with anticipation as she lay in bed watching the
shadows cast by the moonlight on the leaves of the big old oak tree
outside her window. He would be appearing soon, climbing over the fence
and up the tree like a cat, the muscles in his lean hard frame rippling
as he shimmied up the branches. Chris played soccer, he was on the
varsity team at college, and he was also a champion diver -- and his
body mirrored his athletic prowess. He was also a champion muff diver,
as Jill had discovered several months ago when she had let him eat her
pussy for the first time. Now she looked forward again to what had
become almost a nightly ritual with them.

Chris was her first real boyfriend, and certainly the one guy she had
let get into her panties -- though she wouldn't "go all the way" -- no,
she just couldn't do that, not yet. She felt guilty, actually, letting
him satisfy her without giving him what he wanted -- though she finally
had played with his penis, and even sucked on it a little bit. But she
never made him cum. Well, he knew the rules, after all, and he really
loved to eat her ... it wasn't her fault if he was willing to put up
with the one-sided arrangement. Besides, Chris was in love with her,
she knew that, and he figured they would get it on sooner or later ...

Jill sucked in her breath as she heard a slight rustle outside. She lay
perfectly still. Moments later, a large shadow appeared before the
window, and then two hands raised the sash almost noiselessly.

Chris climbed into the room and tiptoed over to the bed, as quiet as an
Indian. He was barefoot, as usual -- he hated wearing shoes, and his
broad muscular chest was bare above dirty Levi's.

"Hello, Beautiful," he said, sitting down quickly on the bed and
planting his full, sensuous mouth on hers. He kissed her deeply,
thrusting his hot tongue into her willing mouth and laving her oral
cavity for all he was worth. Jill put her bare arms around his neck and
drew him close to her. Her pussy was already tingling with anticipation
and her young nipples began to harden under her sheer cotton nightie as
they were crushed under the hardness of his bare chest muscles.

Jill's long wavy hair was spread against the soft white pillow as her
brawny boyfriend began to move one of his large strong hands up her
side and between their bodies, seeking one of her ripe nipples. He
continued to French her mouth as he raised up slightly on the other
elbow so that his hand could have greater access to her upthrust mound,
and he kneaded the pliant flesh between his fingers and churned it
round and round, causing the teenage brunette to become even more