Doodling

We went a little over; I couldn't very well charge her for an hour unless I actually tutored her for an hour. When I declared an end to the tutoring, Sandra gave me a very passionate kiss, then left my bedroom.

"Bye, Mrs. Lott," Sandra said as she left the trailer.

"Smells like a French whore house in here," my mother said at the door of my bedroom.

"Really? Hmm. I've never been in a French whore house so I wouldn't know. I'll just take your word for it," I said, starting on my own homework.

Percy seemed to be grasping the material and we corrected his mistakes on the last test. He also asked if I ever did tee shirts in any other color than white. I explained that it would have to be a very light color; the ink would have a hard time showing up on a dark material.

"Oh, you know, maybe like a powder blue, or even a pastel green?" Percy asked.

"And you wonder why people think you're gay?" I thought to myself. "Guys don't know 'powder blue' and 'pastel green,' they know light blue, light green."

Addison was in no mood to study when she arrived. She was mad at her boyfriend Scottie. She'd seen him in the hall, being overly attentive to a scrawny little brunette, a lowly freshman of all things.

"So, you want to fuck?" Addison demanded, pulling her Pegasus Tees By Bert tee shirt up and off.

Her breasts were beautiful; absolutely gorgeous. Because they were so small, Addison did not bother with a bra. Her breasts were the size and shape of a large lemon half and each was capped with a dark pink areole roughly the size of a Carter quarter and her nipples were hard little bullets pointing at me. Her belly button was a little tunnel in her tanned hard belly.

"Huh?" she snapped, beautiful blue eyes sparking angrily. "Sandra says you're pretty good. So, want to fuck?"

"Addison, no," I said as she unzipped her low-rider blue jeans, showing me her blonde bush. "I mean, yes, but no."

"Huh?" Addison asked, blue jeans already down to her knees.

"Addison, no," I said, even as my dick tried to jump out of my jeans. "That girl? That's Scott's sister."

"That's what? Bull shit," Addison said, but did pause.

"That's his baby sister. Abbie? That's his sister," I said.

"Bull shit," Addison snarled. "Her last name's Connor."

"It's the obverse of you and Nolan," I said, looking longingly at Addison's pretty little pussy. "Same momma, different daddies."

"Huh? What's obverse mean?" Addison asked, a lot of the anger gone.

"Opposite. You and Nolan have the same daddy, but different mommas. And Scott and Abbie have the same momma, just different daddies. That's why their last names are different," I explained.

"Oh my God," Addison gasped.

Then she squealed, remembering that she was naked. She turned and I stared longingly at her beautiful compact ass as she dressed.

Then she pulled out her cell phone and spent the next thirty minutes texting back and forth with Scott. Finally, I put an end to it and demanded that we look at her test paper.

"Thanks, Bert," Addison said quietly as she packed her books into her clear plastic bag. "Know how many guys would have just fucked me and not said nothing?"

"Wish I was one of them guys," I confessed.

She gave me a beautiful smile and kissed me on my cheek. She greeted my mother as she left my bedroom. My mother made a point of sniffing the air as I got busy on my own homework.

The next day, Scott Joliet gave me a bro-hug and thanks. A few of his football playing mouth breathers gave me approving nods and one even held his hand up for a high five.

And a few girls gave me smiled and nods. I also garnered some more tee shirt orders and I discussed the possibility of doing them in different colors.

"Ooh! Got any pink?" more than one girl asked.

I bought up a few packs of pink tee shirts, a few packs of powder blue, a few yellow and some light green. My favorite arts and crafts store also got more of my money; their selection of ink pens was unparalleled. I even did a pink tee shirt for myself. I wasn't concerned about anyone making fun of me for wearing pink.

"Hey, pink's the color of breast cancer," I explained to my new best friend, Scott Joliet. "And October's breast cancer awareness month too."

That declaration tripled my order for pink tee shirts among the males, from one to three. But more girls were smiling at me.

Sandra was very close to her period at our next tutoring session. Her PMS was making her irritable. She decided she could give me a blow job to make up for the loss of using her pussy. And what a blow job it was. She used hands, tongue, lips. I didn't know any better, so I kissed her after she'd swallowed my joy juice. That seemed to shock her and she kissed me almost frantically.

"Bye, Mrs. Lott," Sandra called out as she left.

Again, my mother sniffed the air and actually seemed kind of disappointed that there was no aroma of hot, sweaty eighteen year old hormone driven sex in my bedroom. I smirked at her.

"Sorry Mother. I'll try to do better next time," I said and got busy on my homework.

Percy was catching up in Biology. He now knew what was important, what to focus on and how they related to one another.

"Percy, honestly? You don't need my help," I said. "You just needed someone to put this into perspective for you."

"Can I blow you?" he suddenly said.

Percy was a cute boy. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a shy smile with pouting lips. He was short and scrawny; I had to buy his tee shirts in a 'Small.'

I knew he was eighteen, same age as me because in the seventh grade, Mrs. Lehrwill had announced our birthdays whenever it was our birthday, and Percy and I had the same birthdate.

Even though I was shocked at his request, my cock got hard. I just stared at him as he sat, blushing.

Sandra gave a very good blow job. Percy gave an unbelievable blow job. Sandra gave a blow job. Percy gave a BLOW JVO.

And when he sat back up, I saw that the front of his jeans was dark. At first I wondered if he'd pissed himself. Then I realized he'd actually ejaculated from sucking cock.

Addison asked me if I could tutor her in Algebra. With that, I had to go all the way back to the beginning. We're talking 'one plus one is two' beginning, never mind one x plus one y.

"Dude! You do math too?" Percy asked me the next day.

I was surprised, until I remembered, Percy was on the cheerleading team. He wasn't exactly a cheerleader, but he was their equipment manager, the assistant to Coach Landry. So, of course, he and Addison were buddies. She must have told him I was now helping her in Algebra.

At our next tutoring session, Sandra was fully feeling the effects of that special time of the month. She didn't feel like fucking. She didn't feel like sucking dick. She didn't even feel like studying.

I used the same tactic I'd used when she'd requested that first tee shirt. I very firmly stated that we were here to study and we will study.

"Don't think I want be your girlfriend no more," she grumbled as she got out her notebook.

"Sandra, let me make this perfectly clear," I sighed. "You are not my girlfriend."

I guess Sandra had honestly thought that one fuck and one blow job made her my girlfriend. She burst into tears, then screamed her absolute and complete and total hatred of me, then ran out of the trailer.

I'm glad that my mother was next door, and Miss Annie's trailer, drinking coffee and bitching about anything and everything in their lives. I just was not in any mood to hear a lecture from my mother on how to treat a woman.

"Yeah, Mother," I played out the argument in my head. "You're right. I should have slapped the stupid bitch, then told her she wasn't my girlfriend."

After I finished my homework, I packed up Sandra's books and drove them to her house. Looking at her house, with the horribly cracked driveway and sagging porch steps and gutters in bad need of painting and torn screen door, I couldn't help but wonder what right Sandra King ever had in looking down her nose at my trailer.

Mrs. King answered the door. Well, I assume it was Mrs. King; I didn't ask and she didn't offer.

She and Sandra had the same build and I knew without a doubt that Sandra would look like this woman in ten, fifteen years. Her boobs would rest on her beer belly, her hair would hang in frizzy strands, and her face would have deep set wrinkles.

The woman's voice was a hoarse cigarette and beer bark as she thanked me for bringing Sandra's books. Then she asked if she was going get her twelve bucks back since we didn't finish the tutoring.

I explained that I had scheduled Sandra for that time slot. I further explained that I could have tutored other students at that time. Had I been the one to cut our session short, then she could certainly expect recompense for whatever shortfall of time.

"But ya'll didn't do nothing," Mrs. King argued.

Again, I explained, Sandra had been the one to cut our session short. If Mrs. King expected to be reimbursed her expenditure, she should take it up with Sandra, the party at fault. Using polysyllabic words seemed to stump the woman and I took my leave.

At school the next day, Sandra King studiously ignored me. She made sure to have a cheerleader buddy of hers alert me to the fact that she was ignoring me.

Cooler weather was setting in. I honestly expected the drop in temperatures to signal a drop in Tees By Bert. But my tee shirts began to be paired with flannel shirts. And when I wore a long sleeved tee shirt, announcing that long sleeved tee shirts would be thirty five dollars, my sales shot up again. The first day, I received twenty nine orders, fourteen of those for long sleeved tees.

Percy spent ten minutes reviewing Biology, forty minutes going over Algebra, and three minutes sucking my dick. It took a few minutes for me to recover, aided by Percy bathing my balls with his mouth. Then it took another five minutes for him to work another load of joy juice out of me. Again, when we finished, the front of his jeans was dark with his own spunk.

It was almost one o'clock in the morning when I finally finished my tee shirt orders. Francine and Francesca Thompson, two identical twins had demanded that I create matching pink unicorns for them. The fact that each Tees By Bert tee shirt was a unique, one of a kind creation held no sway with them. They wanted identical tee shirts, identical unicorns.

When I finished, I stood back and looked at the finished product. Maybe a digital camera hooked up to a super computer would be able to tell the difference between the shirts, but I damned sure couldn't. I just hoped that Francine and Francesca wouldn't be able to tell either.

The twins couldn't tell and they were pleased. I smiled as they ran off; they were very cute. They weren't beautiful like Addison; they were cute with their shoulder length brown hair, narrow faces, dimpled smiles and slender bodies. They had almost no boobs at all, very little swell to their hips, but both did have nicely compact asses and wore snug blue jeans to show off their sweet butts.

At lunch time, I went to where the cheerleaders were sitting and asked Sandra if she would be able to study that afternoon. She glared at me and I sighed.

"Listen, Sandra. Even if I'm not your boyfriend, I do care about you. I do want you to get good grades, better grades than the ones you've been getting," I declared.

That declaration, as false as it was, earned me a nod. She looked down at her barb laden lunch and mumbled a thank you.

"Oh, and tell your mom there's no charge for this one," I said.

"Not my mom; she's my aunt," Sandra said.

"Oh," was all I said.

"Mom died five years ago," Sandra continued. "Why I'm living with Aunt Connie and Uncle Tim."

"Oh," I said again.

And, looking at the crappy condition of their home, the nearly thoughtless preparation of your lunch, I'm supposed to believe your aunt and your uncle put out the money to have your ass on the pill? I'm supposed to believe they even notice you're alive, other than when there is some expense connected to you? No ma'am, Miss King. There will be a condom on my dick if and when we ever fuck again.

We studied for the entire hour. We did not take a fuck break, or a suck break. We studied. And at the end of the hour, Sandra gave me a soft kiss, then left. True to form, my mother gave the air a sniff.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said.

"That girl cares 'bout you," my mother said. "Need be careful. Don't be going around breaking her heart, hear?"

"Already did," I said. "Let her know it is strictly business. Cash for services rendered. Whether we're speaking of her services or mine; cash up front."

"Oh," my mother said; she sounded genuinely disappointed.

Jonah Lawrence ordered another guitar, on a long sleeved tee shirt. He showed me a Polaroid someone had taken of him playing his guitar and wanted to know if I could do one like that. The picture was so dark, all I could make out was his blurry face.

"Dude, it's a fucking flying V; you can't see that?" he said.

So, I looked up a Flying V. I clarified that Jonah's flying v was an ebony Epiphone.

So, on a Friday night, while most of my peers were either at a football game, watching our pathetic excuse of a football team getting the shit kicked out of them by a bunch of unruly kindergarteners or at the mall, or getting drunk, high, and pregnant, I was laboring on tee shirts. I did Jonah's tee shirt first. Then, after I finished the eight other orders, I got Jonah's tee shirt out again. It just looked Spartan.

So, on the right sleeve, I did a smaller Flying V, near the shoulder. On the left sleeve, I did a second small Flying V near the cuff. On the rear, I did a Flying V that was half the size of the Flying V on the front of the tee shirt, still a little larger than the Flying Vs I'd put on the sleeves.

Walking around in Wal-Mart, replenishing my supplies, I discovered fabric paints. Someone had put a box of fabric paint on a shelf, far away from the fabrics department. An employee pointed out the general area of the store where I could find more fabric paint and I went exploring.

It was Saturday and Wal-Mart on a Saturday is a zoo. People make fun of trailer parks and the people that choose to live in them. Those people need to go to Wal-Mart on any given Saturday. By comparison, trailer park inhabitants look like the upper echelon of society.

Armed with several different paints, I returned to the tee shirts. I grabbed several solid black and some blood red tee shirts, already trying to envision what artistic creations I could make.

The first one I made was a silver sparkle puffy paint Pegasus on a black tee shirt. I thought it looked awesome, but wanted another set of eyes. Percy answered his cell on the second ring and readily agreed to come over to critique my endeavor.

Percy went crazy over it and begged me to make one for him. I smiled and asked him how much he was willing to pay for it. After all, the shirt he held in his hands was a size small.

With a blow job, it's easy to close my eyes and imagine its Addison wrapping her pretty lips around my cock. Kneeling behind Percy on my bed, placing the head of my cock to his hole, it was very easy to imagine that I was about to do it doggy style with Addison.

Percy's squeals and grunts and groans as I worked my hard-on into him sounded what I imagined Addison would sound like as I fucked her. She would grunt and groan and say 'oh God, oh yeah, ooh.'

His hole was tight and hot. His hole squeezed me, fighting against me as I jammed myself into him. I was glad I'd already blown one load down his throat; if I hadn't, I'd already be done.

Of course, afterward, Percy had to ruin it by trying to kiss me. I slapped him, threw the tee shirt at him and told him to skip on home.

A black Pegasus with silver wings on a blood red tee shirt was even more striking than the first creation. I then did a silver Fender Stratocaster on a black tee shirt.

Short sleeve tees would be twenty five, long sleeved tees would be forty. Just as I knew it would, the silver Fender Stratocaster got quite a few orders. On Tuesday, the Pegasus with silver wings got several more orders.

That afternoon, Sandra came over and we studied. And I could see some improvement. She wasn't just scribbling down an answer; she was thinking about the question, then thinking about the answer.

Percy was not in school on Monday or Tuesday. On Wednesday, Ms. Edwards quietly told me that I would no longer be tutoring Percy. I shrugged; just grateful I'd have that extra hour to concentrate on making the three puffy unicorns that had been requested, as well as the butterfly Scott had ordered for Addison. She already had one butterfly done with my Spirograph; this one would be done with puffy fabric paint.

I wondered if Scott could tell that I had a major crush on his girlfriend. I wondered if Addison could tell I had a crush on her as we worked on her Algebra homework. If she could, she didn't say anything.

We sat at my desk and worked on that day's homework and caught Addison up with what the class was covering. She smiled her heart-stopping smile at me when the alarm sounded and thanked me.

"You know, Sandra really likes you," she commented as she gathered up her books.

"Sandra is a beautiful young woman," I said magnanimously. "I hope she finds someone that can see just how beautiful she truly is, but that someone won't be me."

"What? Why not?" Addison asked, shocked at my answer.

The next morning was cold. The weather was cold; Sandra was hot and bothered. Addison must have told her what I said and Sandra seemed driven to make me see just how perfect she and I would be together. I could, and should be the one to see just how beautiful she, Sandra King was.

Thank God for Thanksgiving week. And curse God for Thanksgiving week. An entire week free from school, free from Sandra King's blatant and laughable attempts to ensnare me. And an entire week without seeing Addison Comeaux roaming the halls of our school.

And an entire week of putting up with my mother. Thankfully, the grocery store had everyone working overtime to handle the shopping crush. But when she wasn't at work, she was right there, in my face, blathering on and on about whatever nonsense she found of interest.

And somehow, my mother found a boyfriend. A carbon copy of Bert, Jr. A bloated drunk with mean eyes and tobacco stained teeth and foul mouth.

"Mother, please tell me you haven't told Alton you have money," I hissed urgently.

The guilty look on her face told me that she had indeed told Alton Savoie that she had close to two hundred thousand in the bank. But she assured me, she had not given him any money.

As politely as I could, I pumped Alton Savoie for information. Where he worked, where he lived, how long he'd been with his current employer. He demanded to know if I was writing a fucking book.

"Why? Mr. Savoie, would a book about you be interesting?" I asked, acting intrigued.

He was a mean drunk, and a stupid drunk. That simple question opened the floodgates and Alton Savoie told me about his days in high school, his importance as a defensive end for that high school's football team. He also told me about his time in the Army before an obviously racist nigger sergeant bounced him out of the Army. He and my mother sat at the kitchen table, making tequila sunrises out of Faygo orange soda and cheap tequila and Alton Savoie told me all about himself.

Well, nearly all about Alton Savoie. He failed to mention that he was married to a Cheryl Savoie and living with Cheryl only three blocks from Adrien's Supermarket.

Cheryl was a bloated looking woman that could have been a poster child of why teenagers and young adults should not drink to excess. Or do drugs. Or get tattoos. Or marry one's cousin. Or procreate at all. Her facebook page photograph could also be used to inspire children everywhere to visit their dentist regularly.