"You just changed the name."

"And besides. Darleene isn't exactly going with me steady or anything. I know what she does. And I get around plenty too."

"There are five girls in the band, Rudolph. How many more Boppettes you got left to hit on now? Or are Darleene and I the first?"

Rudolph looked at Babette as if she had just slapped his face.

"I'll be taking off now, Babette."

"Look, Rude Warrior baby. No hard feelings- okay? I was joking around. I won't tell Darleene about any of this stuff. I kind of liked talking to you. Just don't go telling Darleene that."

Rudolph was outside, kicking over his motorcycle. As he scattered gravel in the driveway, Babette thought about how light and airy, free hand giggly she had felt for a few minutes outside in the pool.

Babette stripped out of her swimsuit and turned on the shower. She remembered how good it had felt when she had split herself open.

Touched herself down there.

All over.

Stroking her hair.

Splitting her slit.

When she had stabbed her clit.

Frigged her fanny.

And then later.

When Rudolph's cock had touched her there. On the outside skin of her swimsuit.

Prick, stiff and limber.

Just separated from her bare juicebulb by nothing more than the stretch material of the bathing suit.

Babette sighed as the hot water needled into her flesh. She sensed it slosh down her back and into the cleft between her fannycheeks.

Yes.

Fantasy was great that way.

She could do what she wanted.

With whomever she wanted.

And it didn't have to be sanctioned. Why, if she had a hankering to go after Rudolph's hog-so long as it was only in her mind-who gave a shit?

"Are you following me?" she said again, this time in her mind."

"I was just talking to you," Rudolph said again, in Babette's head.

Hand hefting her quim, Babette pursued her fantasy fuck.