Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2023 13:25:49 +0000 From: jacklynch945 Subject: The Prince The Pauper And the Chief Chapter 23 Can you imagine life without Nifty? Please show your support with contributions to keep the Archive online. You can find out how at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html This story includes episodes involving underage minors having sex with adults. I expressly condemn this kind of activity. I have made every attempt to present these acts in a thoughtful, sensitive manner. You may not agree. If so, I encourage to avoid reading it. This story mentions real people, real places, and real events, but the characters and the story are entirely fictional. It contains descriptions of sexual interactions between minors and adult men. Your feedback, whether in the form of comments or constructive criticism, will always be welcome. Please email me: jacklynch945@proton.me. The Prince. The Pauper. And the Chief. By Jack Lynch Chapter 23. Jules. Julia Bradford. Seventeen years old. And she was good at it. As a child, she'd been pudgy and blissfully happy. When she turned thirteen, her mother started to pay more attention. "Let's cut out the Cheetos and ice cream and, maybe, lose some weight," she told Jules. She sorely missed the Cheetos but, nevertheless, complied with her mother's wishes. The pounds fell off, a delightful set of boobs appeared, her waist narrowed, and her hips widened. A very productive trip to the cosmetics counter at Bloomingdale's resulted in a cache of product and a new way to set her narrow blues off and accentuate her thin lips. And then there were the boys. All the chatter and gossip between her girl friends was utterly boring. They speculated without pause about what it would be like to get kissed by this boy or that boy. With new found confidence in her looks, Jules went right to the source. At first, she was attracted to her own kind. Protestant, upper class, boys. After all, the Bradford's were descendants of the Pilgrims who came over on the Mayflower. Jimmy Potter was the first, a tall sandy haired boy. He had a funny way of kissing, though. His lips sort of curled in when he pressed them against hers. And, he wouldn't even French kiss. When she finally let him push her hand down his pants, his dick felt kind of rubbery. Worse, when he showed it to her, it was ugly and uncircumcised. Jules decided it was time to see the world. The world of boys, that is. Next up, Patrick O'Neill. Funny, gregarious, and a great kisser. She let herself get felt up in exchange for some pretty hot making out. "Is that boy Catholic?" His mother asked with one raised eyebrow. "I dunno, Mom. O'Neill? What do ya think?" Jules responded sarcastically, her voice in a high pitched register. "Hmmmm," she murmured, a frown on her face. From that point on, Jules felt unleashed, bringing home a cavalcade of boys of all stripes and colors, just to see how much of a frenzy she could send her mother into. "You're going out with a Polish boy??" Her mother asked in an alarmed voice. There was even some mild experimentation with other girls. Allison Farmer crawled into bed with her when she was fifteen. Their last year at church camp. A bit surprised at first, then Jules realizing Allison had been flirting with her for years. That girl could kiss, better than any boy she'd been with. Jules didn't even mind getting felt up below the waist, her pussy opening up in response to Allison's soft touches. Afterwards, she tried to let her down easy. Her mother was apoplectic when she saw them holding hands. She met Isaac at a pre-college program they both attended at Williams. They hit it off right away, first as friends, then more seriously. They called each other boy friend-girl friend. The truth of it all was that it was pretty casual. Nevertheless, their relationship sent Jules's mother into a complete spaz attack. "I should have put my foot down right away," she said sternly. "Didn't I tell you? No Jewish boys!" But, her mother finally had to bite her tongue. Harding and Ronni Prince were really quite nice and they were so well connected! Sure, she had to hold her nose just thinking about how liberal they were, belonging to the Democratic Party and all. But, they knew all these celebrities! Jules got quite the giggle watching her mother at the party, sucking up to Walter Cronkite and his wife, Mary. Even though that beach encounter was random and anonymous, she managed to hook up with Quash a few days later. Jules was picking up an order at the Scottish Bakehouse for her mother. Quash was picking up an order, too. Two boxes of desserts for a clambake later that night. Oh God! This is really happening! After luring him back to the graveyard, Jules threw her arms around Quash's neck, pulling his lips to hers. A freakishly hot minute of tongues thrashing around each other's mouths before Quash pushed her back. One look and he knew what he had to do. Whipping her shorts to the ground, he got on his knees, intending to eat her pussy out. "No-o-o-o!" She gasped, pushing him away. But, not away, away. Instead, she turned around, bent over, and leaned into the hull of a nearby boat. Her pussy was so wet and loose, she thought her insides might fall out and slip down her leg. Quash whipped his own clothes off. A moment like this called for being completely naked. Just as he was starting to move towards her, Jules reached down and grabbed a condom out of the pocket of her shorts. Be prepared. Was that the Boy Scouts marching song? Or the Girl Scouts? No matter. Jules turned to watch him put it on. He roughly pushed her head back down again and, after briefly hesitating, entered her. Pressure and a soft thunk. A moment of pain. Well, there goes the `ol virginity, she thought. His hips against her butt, his magnificent cock creating a magical combination of pain and pleasure. Quash held her hips to steady her when he came, spasms engulfing his cock. Stepping back, he gazed down at his loaded rubber. Just then, he detected some movement in his peripheral vision. Glancing to the side, he saw three faces watching them. "Oh, shit!" Jules stood back up, looking, too. Laughing, she tugged her shorts and panties back on. "C'mon. Let's go!" Now, here they were at the same party, Jules as a guest, Quash as one of Smith's hired hands. They engaged in conversation for a couple of minutes, the first time they had actually talked about anything other than body parts. Quash had just chuckled at a funny, but sarcastic comment when Smith walked by and gave him a hard look. "Well, I guess I better get back to work." "Come see me. We're over in Squibnocket." Jules was talking about the exclusive area south of Lucy Vincent Beach. She leaned into him, grabbing his shoulders, whispering her address in his ear. Glancing to the side, she caught her mother watching. She looked pale, like she was about to have a coronary. Quash busied himself for a few minutes shuttling dirty dishes from the deck into the kitchen, all the while keeping an eye out for that kid. He spied him a short time later, standing in the open door to the guest bathroom. Kip was looking in the mirror, combing his hair again for the umpteenth time. He couldn't decide if he liked it this way or if the whole neat hair thing was just too annoying. Suddenly, he was standing behind him. His wrists were up against the door frame which effectively blocked Kip into the bathroom. A serious, thoughtful look on his face. "Hi." "Oh, hello," Kip responded. Long awkward silence. They just stared at each other through the reflection in the mirror. Quash cleared his throat. "Ah, you, ah..." His voice trailed off. "You, ah, remind me of someone," he said softly. Kip just looked at him. Uh-oh, he thought. "Someone who is the spittin' image of...you." Kip frowned. Busted, again? "`Cept he goes to school in Atlanta." "There's another one?!?" Kip blurted out, his breath quickening, alarmed, as he twisted around to face Quash. Quash laughed softly. "Well, he's older than you. Nineteen, maybe. But, he could have been you at your age." He paused. "How old are you, anyway?" "Twelve." Kip started to relax a bit. His eyes roved over the guy's face. It was so nice looking. His lips looked like, Kip couldn't quite put it together. His mouth looked really nice, for some reason. Without thinking, Quash dropped his arms, and lifted his hands to the boy's face, cupping his cheeks. His instinct was to lean in and kiss him. He looked so damn sexy, his narrow lips tantalizingly apart. For his part, Kip just stood there patiently, waiting to see what would happen. Quash quickly shook himself back to reality. He dropped his hands and arms and stood back and to the side. "Can I get you anything?"