"He's eighteen, Babs," Betty Sue said with considerable pride. "And he's so big. Why already he's almost as tall as his father, and so handsome."

"Got a big dick, huh?" Barbara Jean asked, the weed clouding her senses and sharpening the feeling seeping throughout her cuntal walls. The flow of her juices seemed to gather just inside the fine smooth lips of her cuntal opening, waiting to lubricate them.

"Damn it, Babs," Betty Sue said. "You do say the crudest things!"

"Bet he does, anyway," she said, "even if you pretend not to know it. Tell me about him."

"He's already six feet tall. His hair's a little lighter than Johan's, almost platinum, and his eyes are a deeper blue. He weighs… oh, it must be almost a hundred-and-seventy now. Makes him look so long and lean, stretched out on his tall frame."

"Don't worry, he'll fill out as soon as he starts fucking and eating regularly," Barbara said.

Betty Sue tried to ignore her sister's obscene sense of humor. Betty Sue was positive that no one really thought, much less talked, the way Barbara Jean did.

"He's got a girlfriend already," Betty said. "At least I think he has. Her name's. Denise St. James and she lives two streets over."

"Now, Babs," Betty Sue began, but they were both interrupted.

Erik Swensen, rushed into the room. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a very tight pair of cut-offs, the frayed edges of the legs unraveling all around. The sunlight seemed to be gathered in his hair, giving it sparkling highlights and his bright blue eyes shimmered with youth and boundless energy.

"Jesus Christ!" Barbara Jean said, butting out her Thai roach and taking a quick sip of her beer, her eyes riveted to the massive bulge of the teen's crotch. The cut-offs were many times washed and faded thin, the fabric clearly outlining a most generous cockshaft and balls.