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Nor-Easter Candy

2299 Words | 0 |1.80

My name isn’t Candace, and her name isn’t Elanor. It was a good idea to use code names, when we tell our stories.

Also, I can lie and say I’m going over to Elanore’s house, instead of of to look for boys on my own. I picked Candy because I have a sweet tooth. I know it’ll give me cavities, but it never made me fat, because I could always run around to burn off all that extra energy.

On school days, my mom found out that I wasn’t eating lunch, and started making me sandwiches. So, I didn’t spend all my lunch money on candy after school, but she always gave me a treat.

Then, Easter rolled around, and I got lots of sugar in all the eggs I found. Out at the park, there was this 1 egg that no one could find. So after I finished all I had, I went out to look for it again.

Elie lived across the street from the park too, but a different street, around the corner. I forgot to stop, and look both ways at the end of the driveway, but no one was coming to slam on their brakes, and honk.

So I stopped on the curb, and looked around the edge of the grass. Like putting a puzzle together, first you start at the edges, and work your way in to the center. That way, you can make sure you don’t miss anywhere.

There were lots of places to hide stuff, because it’s really just an empty lot. The neighborhood ladies decided to make a community garden. Like quilting in winter, but all the flowers, bushes, and trees they planted should raise property values for the whole neighborhood, and really makes a nice view from the front yard.

Some of them were big enough to hide your whole body if we’re playing hide, and seek. The older kids sometimes went out with flashlights after dark, but my mom, and dad wouldn’t let me go out, and play with them that late.

This boy came out of the trees, and looked around, but when he saw me, he ran off. It’s a Copse, you say it like “Cops,” but it’s spelled copsE with a silent E. Then, Elie came out of the copse, and wiped her mouth. Looked down, and wiped a spot on her dress, but she wasn’t dressed up for church. She never dressed up on Sundays, because she didn’t go to church, it turns out.

We stuck around for a pot-luck dinner, but my mom wouldn’t let me load up on nothing but dessert. She knows that I get hypoglycemic if I don’t get enough sugar, but she insisted. So, I got some sweet potatoes, with toasted marshmallows on top to go with my honey glazed ham. And greenbean casserole, mom made me eat all that, but my hands weren’t shaking yet.

“Hey, Candy.”

“Hey Ellie? I know what you’re doing back there.”

“What?” She looked back at the trees.

“You got a kissing booth back there, I saw it.” That was new, but for some reason. Nobody wanted to drink my lemonade this year, bad enough to buy any of it. I tried adding more sugar, but it all sank down to the bottom, no matter how many times I tried to stir it up. So, I’ll have to wait for it to get hotter, before I can make any money off that.

“Oh, yeah.” She shook her head, “No, I didn’t build that, the boys did.”

“Oh, well how much do they pay, 25 cents for a kiss? I’m not making any money on lemonade yet, so I think maybe a kissing booth before it gets too hot?”

“Huh!” She laughed, “You know what? That’s a pretty good idea. Why should I give it away for free, when I could make money at it, too?”

“Well,” I shrugged, “Maybe we could do it together, but since it was my idea, I want to make most of the money.”

“How about 50/50? I know all the boys, so you’re not going to compete with me. If you do change your lemonade stand to a kissing booth.”

“Okay,” that was the plan, and she fell for it! “Shake?” You see, that’s called haggling. When my mom goes out to the flea market, and she doesn’t like the price. She doesn’t tell the lady the price she wants. You start way lower, then let her argue until you meet somewhere in the middle, and that’s how you get a good price. The sellers are the same way, they jack all the prices up. So when a good savvy shopper like my mom shows up, she can talk them down to a fair price, and they’re both happy. Nobody in their right mind would pay the price on the tag, unless they’re made of money.

I just didn’t tell Ellie that, but 50/50 is fine with me. I just told her that I wanted most of the money so she could talk me down, and we both win. As long as I get my candy, I’m happy.


“Elie” (Gg Pedo/Bi)

Holy shit! I knew she was a little sugar junky, but I had no idea how far she would go to get her fix.

All right, before anybody thinks about calling the cops: She’s 12, and in 7th grade with me. She’s just skinny, because she’s got one of those metabolisms. So, she can eat whatever she wants, and never gain a pound.

So that means she looks a little younger, while I look a lot older, but I don’t want anybody to think that I’m a child molestor. I’m not, if you want to judge me, then at least get it right: I’m a slut, and a whore, but it didn’t take me that long to figure out what I like best.

I like kissing, necking, and getting felt up as much as the next girl. That’s just foreplay, fucking, and sucking is fine as long as they can get rubbers, but we are talking about under-age sex here. So, unless their dads have rubbers they can sneak out of their bedrooms, without getting caught.

I know that if I get pregnant, it’ll be all over. So, as horny as I get, and as much as the boys want to have unprotected sex, I have to make sure. Each, and every time, even though I know that having a kid would go right to my bust.

I’d seen plenty of women, before and after. My mom breast fed, and she has friends. Aunts, and cousins too. We’re not like some prissy Christian family, where we think that’s something to hide. We’re not like a bunch of hippy dippy nudists either, but there’s plenty of in between.

Let’s face it, we’re mammals, and that’s what nipples are for. One of the dumbest things I can think of right off the top of my head is making a mother get up from the table, and feed the baby in the bathroom because a child might see a nipple.

“This is a family restaurant!” I swear to God a manager came out, and told my aunt she had to leave once, because she dared to feed her baby at the table. So she left, and never came back, but that’s just 2 more chairs for brunch I guess. It’s just stupid like calling a girl a Slut, because she likes sex.

Yeah, it’s sex? Who doesn’t like sex? Well, I refuse to be ashamed of myself, just because I’m a little precocious. Okay? Fuck you, or go fuck yourself, because you’re afraid of a woman showing a little nipple. It’s a wonder Christians can get ever married in the first place with so many stupid rules.

However, I can’t help thinking that she’s got all the right parts. No dick, but who needs one if you’ve got fingers, and a tongue? I’d never been with another girl before, but if I had my choice. Say I’m buying, and I can make him do whatever I want? Dicks are all right, but they’re nothing compared to what all you can do with your fingers, and your tongue.

The best part is, she’s just going to spend it on candy, and soda anyway. I still had 3 eggs worth of jelly beans, and mini-chocolate rabbits, so I could pay her with that until we started making money…


Candy (Gf Molest. Yeah, she said she’s not a child molester, but that’s just the kind of excuses that child molesters make. “Hey little girl, you want some candy? You better eat it back here in the bushes so your mother doesn’t catch you spoiling your dinner…” She said they were the same age, too. She lied.)

She said that all the good boys, with money are older. So they kissed before, and we had to practice. She had jellybeans, though. “What’s your favorite?” She poured them out in her hand, and I picked out a pink one. Sucked on it to make the candy shell start to dissolve.

“Mine too,” She picked out another one, and licked it, to rub on her lips, and kiss me. I licked our lips together, and she said “Good. They might want to stick their tongue in your mouth.”

“Frengh giss.” I rolled the jelly bean around to my cheek, and she held up the other one. Poked it in my mouth, and kissed me again. If she still tasted sweet, then a jellybean in each cheek just made it sweeter, but then she stuck her tongue out to the side, and scooped one up. Back inside my teeth, she licked back around to the other side, and licked that one up.

Then, we started playing a little mini game. Where we passed them back and forth with our tongues until they got soft. I swallowed them, so she stopped.

“Good, that’s very good.” She held her hand up again, and picked out another one. “I like the green ones the best.” She likes green, or at least she wears those colors a lot. Maybe it’s to blend in with the grass, and the trees a little better, but these aren’t big enough for a tree-house. I guess, none of the branches are really strong, so they just put boards up on the ground, and nailed one on top for a roof.

A moving quilt from a Uhaul on the floor, folded up so it was nice and comfy to sit down. “Now, they might want to touch you, like this.” She rubbed my skirt over my knees but cross legged in the corner, it rode up.

“How much is that?” I don’t know where the handful of jellybeans went.

“Hm,” she thought, “You’re the businesswoman, the entrepreneur, and it was your smart idea in the first place. So, if it’s a quarter to kiss.”

“Fifty cents for French,” but after 2 jellybeans, I still had the taste in my mouth, plenty of sugar in my system, and it all rushed to my head. So I could think. “A dollar to touch my legs, through my skirt.”

She was feeling my knees now. Bare, but on the one hand. There was still sticky residue from holding the jellybeans, and polkadots of dye in her palm.

“Huh, you know they don’t want to just touch your legs.”

“Elie? If you want to touch me, deeper. You can.” I nodded.

I know where this is going. Come on, she’s not a stranger, and she doesn’t have a car to get into, but my mom knows full well how much I like candy. How I’d go to the ends of the Earth to get it, but I know what she’s doing.

And it’s working. For the first time in my life, I felt something inside other than a full bladder. I don’t have to pee, so it’s something else.

“This is just foreplay.” He hands slipped further up my thighs, and she rubbed the insides with her thumbs. The tickle spots, but she didn’t tickle. She rubbed them so slowly, and gently that it didn’t tickle at all, but that just made me tingle between them.

“Huh, you want me to touch you too?” She smiled, and nodded, so I felt how soft, warm, and damp she was between her legs.

“Huh!” Her eyes went wide, then they drooped. She leaned in, with her mouth wide open, and her pink tongue for me to kiss. “Oh!”

So, I licked her tongue, and felt even deeper. Her hands stopped moving under my skirt, she even stopped rubbing with her thumb, and her tongue just lay there. Asleep in her mouth, but she must’ve shaved, in there. I could feel stubble on her legs, and in between them. I don’t know how she could stand it, maybe because she doesn’t wear underwear, it doesn’t feel as gritty, and itchy as I might think.

“Huh,” she finally stopped kissing, and leaned back. Pulled her dress out, and picked through the jelly beans folded up in there. “You want to try kissing me?” She licked one, and put it down her skirt, “Down here?”

I licked my lips, and unfolded my legs, to get them wet. She got out a cigarette, and gave me a drag when we’re done.

“You want to try it?” I probably shouldn’t have, but she said “I won’t tell.” Well, it’s not like I was going to run off, and tell everyone she’s a big gay pussy licker, either.

I got dizzy, from the smoke, but I liked it. I should have known that it’s a drug, and I could get addicted from just one puff. After all, that’s just the kind of girl I am, but nobody told me you could get addicted to sex, too.

At least I didn’t have to find that out all bi myself…

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