Grizzly and Panda

I shrugged, whispering, "I wanted to keep the first part of their quote, make it mostly look the same to people, so that helped narrow down the total letters. Then, I just picked words I thought were funny and got rid of more letters that way."

"Huh. Pretty smart."

I shrugged again.

"What did you think you heard in there?" she asked, gesturing to the concrete pipe.

"Can't be sure."

"Were you--I mean--did you--?" she couldn't finish.

"What?"

"Nothing. Should we go?"

"Yeah."

At the fence, I went first. Hope asked me to save her pants as she went through. I let the bottom of the fence down slightly--just enough to feel her ass slide over my knuckles. The rest of the trip home was easy.

Afterward, we sat on the old couch in the basement, laughing and chatting. About fifteen minutes into our conversation, Hope asked, "Did you feel my butt?"

"Hard not to in such a tight space, and it wasn't the only thing I could feel."

"Deliberately touch my butt, I mean."

I said, "I didn't avoid it--or anything else. You ask a lot of questions about your booty."

My words diverted her. Hope grinned with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to--. I just--." A moment elapsed, and then she argued, "Well, you're the one who thought of arse-envying and--and anal misfits."

I cackled in laughter, and she joined me. When we calmed, Hope stared at me for a moment and asked, "Is it really a nice one? Mine?"

I gave her a brief smile, remembering. Then, swallowing back the shame I felt, I simply said, "If it were my girlfriend's, I'd play with it a lot. Spank it."

Hope's eyes gawked. She gasped and covered her mouth. A moment later, she removed her hand enough to furtively ask if I had spanked any of my ex-girlfriends.

"Sure."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Hard?"

I shrugged.

"What do they say?"

"Different things."

"Do they--like it?"

I nodded.

"How hard?"

"I don't hurt them, Hope."

She fell silent.

I rose and stripped off my shirt, being careful to avoid smearing face paint on it. Hope watched silently. I sat down and unlaced and took off my boots and socks. Then, I rose again. Hope blinked, seeing me unhook my belt and unbutton my camouflage pants.

"What are you--?"

"I've got my boxer briefs on," I assured her as I let the pants fall and kicked them off. Then, I plopped on the couch with a sigh. "Hey, I need to shower, so--."

"Oh!' she interrupted. "I meant to ask you before. Can I shower down here?"

I raised an eyebrow.

She explained. "I don't want Mom to hear me take such a late shower upstairs again."

"Go ahead."

A few minutes later, I heard the kind of splashing that could only be a person inside the shower, so I went in.

"Hey, what are you--?"

"Chill, girl. I'm washing this shit off my face." Then, I bent over the sink and went to work. When I finished a few minutes later, I stepped over to the toilet and pissed.

Hope heard it. "Are you--?" She peeled the curtain back and looked. "Oh, my gosh!" She swept the curtain closed.

"Easy. This is my bathroom, and I need to piss. I'm not going upstairs to do it."

"It's not yours," she argued from behind the curtain. "It is the downstairs guest bathroom."

"Right. And I'm the downstairs resident." I flushed it and went to wash my hands.

"Oh, my gosh."

"Hope, don't be such a dang--don't be an arse-envied anal misfit."

I heard a wet snort and a burst of laughter.

"Or," I added as I walked out the door, "I will spank the fuck out of you." I shut the door before she could respond.

When she finally did come out, wrapped in two towels and carrying her clothes, I met her in the den. "Before you go," I said, "one quick thing."

She listened.

"There are no secrets in high school, so--."

"I won't tell a soul." She crossed her heart over the towel.

"Good. I won't either."

"But I can't wait to hear people talking about it at school on Monday," Hope said with an excited grin.

"Cool. Good night, Panda."

She didn't go.

"What?" I asked.

She seemed to debate something. Then, finally and very timidly, she asked, "How hard?"

I stared at her for a beat and said, "For one like yours? Hard enough to make her eyes water. Then, I'd maybe stroke it, kiss it a little, and make her feel better."

She blinked at me as if what I had said was totally unexpected and, somehow, exactly what she wanted to hear. Her face flushed pink, and she swallowed and said, "Okay." Half shocked and half overjoyed, she walked past me without another word and headed upstairs.

***

We didn't hear first about our change to the sign from friends; we heard about it from our parents. They rolled inside after grocery shopping together late on Saturday morning, stumbling into one another like drunks and laughing hysterically.

Hope and I exchanged a glance and asked what was so funny, and then they told us about the sign, barely able to finish the explanation between the two of them. Hope and I handled it well, shaking our heads and laughing with them. I helped bring in the grocery bags while our parents leaned against one another, screaming and bursting and hooting, "Anal misfit!" and "Arse-envied!"

Hope and I exchanged a secret grin. I didn't know about her but seeing our parents so doubled over with joy was the icing on the cake. That right there was a successful op.

"Maybe," Hope said to them, "you had to be there." And then she winked at me.

Later that day, a package arrived at our door with the new marquee letters inside.

***

On the way to school on Monday morning, the sign had already been changed back.

"Damn it," I snapped.

"Oh, no!"

"Ninety percent of the people we want to see it are going to miss it now," I griped.

"I know!"

We glanced at each other. An idea burst upon me. "I could change the screws."

"What?"

"They make all kinds of screws these days. Not just flat and Phillips but weird ones, too. I could swap out the screws with something different, so they can't change it right away."

"Tonight?"

I nodded.

"With school tomorrow?"

I nodded again. 'I'll go to the hardware store after class and find the craziest one they have. You in?"

"I don't know--."

"What? You got tests on a Tuesday?"

"No. I just don't want to be tired at school."

"We'll go earlier--midnight. Come on."

She didn't say anything.

"Alright, fine," I grumbled. "I'll go myself."

"No!" Hope cried. "Please? Wait until Friday for me?"

I hesitated.

"You can spank me," she blurted.

My eyes darted to her.

"For--for being such a school nerd," she explained. "But don't go without me. Please?"

I sighed and watched the road ahead for the high school exit. "Okay, Friday night. And then we can make it say whatever the fuck we want with our new letters."

***

I went to the hardware superstore on Monday night, but not to buy anything--to get a sense of what size screw to buy. I had held the ones from the bracket, so I had a rough idea. After twenty minutes in there, I narrowed it down to three potential sizes and went home.

I found an online security hardware store and rush-ordered four different sets of four tamper-proof security screws at each of the three different sizes along with the four accompanying bits that fit Dad's impact driver.

Why four screws and not two? Simple. There were aluminum brackets on both sides of the sign, and if I only changed one side, the jackasses at Cozy Storage could simply unscrew the other side and remove the letters.

Why four sets? That was an inspiration. I decided that once I figured out which of the three sizes of screw fit, then rather than use the same screw for all four slots, I could use four different ones at each of the four holes. Pain in the ass to remove the brackets that way.

And it was cheaper to buy everything in sets of four. They arrived on Thursday. Hope scrutinized them. "How would they get these off?"

"They're custom, Hope. It is a custom design and a custom bit."

"But how--theoretically."

I sat back and scratched my five-o'clock shadow. "If it were me with Dad's tools, I would use his oscillating multi-tool with a metal cutting blade, try to get under the heads, and cut them off. Then, I'd just use a punch and a hammer to knock the threaded part out, make space for the new screw."

"Easy?"

"Not really. I guess it depends on how clever and well-equipped their sign guy is."

***

On the Friday morning drive to school, the sign read, "Good things happen to those who pray."

"Say, Hope? What if we wait until Saturday this time--or even Sunday."

She turned to me. "Why?"

"Just in case they're watching. I mean, they must have seen what we did sometime on Saturday. I assume they're open Saturdays. Anyways, they probably know we did it on Friday night. Maybe they're on the lookout this Friday."

I felt her eyes on me. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe. And they're probably not open on Sunday--."

"Or," I interrupted, "they're always open with a key card, but there's no employee present on Sundays."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Yeah, so if we go on Saturday or Sunday, they may not find out until Monday."

"That's my thinking." I eased my car onto the high school exit.

"Okay," she said, "but not Sunday--school the next morning. Let's go Saturday night."

"Saturday's cool."

"So, what should we change it to?" Hope asked with renewed enthusiasm.

"I got the last one."

"Really? You'll let me pick?"

Waiting at the stoplight, I turned and nodded.

She grinned.

"And," I added, "you've got a hundred letters to choose from to make it your own."

Hope's smile vanished. "I was thinking about that. When Cozy Storage finally does swap them back, we lose the letters, so maybe I should try not to use too many of ours."

"Good plan."

I took us through the intersection, and Hope clapped her hands beside me. "Ooh, I'm so excited!"

***

Hope didn't have her quote on Friday night or Saturday morning. "Give me more time! I can do this!" she pleaded.

Fine with me.

She arrived at my room early on Saturday night, and she handed me a folded sheet of paper. I opened and read it. Then I guffawed.

"It'll only cost us five letters, and you'll be faster up there than last time," she offered.

"Love it," I said.

"Do you?"

I nodded.

"Yay!" she cried and threw her arms around me. Then, she gasped and drew back excitedly. "Face paint?"

"Okay."

She grinned. I handed her back the note, laughing and shaking my head. She laughed, too.

When I finished with the paint, Hope looked into the mirror and smiled. Then pouted. Her eyes found mine in the mirror, and she asked, "Are you really going to spank me?"

I shrugged. "Let's get our stuff together. Panda and Grizzly have a mission."

"Okay."

I handled the tools, and Hope got the new letters. Then, we rolled.

We were extremely careful on the street crossing, and we spent a lot longer in the bushes near the main gate trying to find any new surveillance. Nothing had changed, apparently.

"Do you think they notified the police?" Hope asked.

"I wonder." Scanning the front entrance, I eventually said, "Let's go down to that spot near the culvert and look over the lot, see if anyone's on foot patrol."

Five minutes later, seeing nothing and no one in the lot, Hope and I shrugged at one another.

"Maybe," she offered, "since it was the first time, they're not so alarmed. They think it was a one-time, harmless prank."

"Maybe. Let's go in."

I glanced at the sign.

GOOD THINGS

HAPPEN TO THOSE

WHO PRAY

We scooted down to the ravine, and I let Hope lead the way. Inside the tunnel, Hope stopped and turned to me, asking, "Are you worried about getting jinxed because the sign is about prayer?"

"No."

"Really?"

I thought about it, replying, "It doesn't say who we should pray to. Could be anybody or anything. Maybe they mean Zeus or Mother Earth or some shit. Could mean praying to devils. No jinxes. It needs to be changed."

"Okay."

"Go, Panda."

"Yes, sir, Grizzly-sir."

Like last time, I shoved Hope through the storm drain by the pussy. Unlike before, she expected it and even welcomed the technique, spreading her legs for me.

The change to the sign went off without difficulty. I learned something the first time around. The catwalk extended about a foot past the sign on both sides. Since the letters slid easily, I didn't have to spend all my time in front of the glowing light, exposing myself to the expressway.

In fact, the only times I had to block the sign with my body were when, after feeding the new letters into the rows, I had to group them into words and push the words into a central position. I also had to cross to the other side this time to swap out the screws on the other bracket. I low-crawled back and forth across the aluminum grate to keep a low profile. No cars honked at me this time.

The plan took some time because I had to swap out bits on the tool, but it worked to perfection. I used four different tamper-proof screws to replace each of the four Phillips ones. Then, looking over my work one last time, I headed down the ladder.

Hope didn't meet me there. She had stepped out into the lot and was giggling and staring up at the sign. I walked over and joined her.

GOOD THINGS

HAPPEN TO THOSE

WHO PAY WHORES

"Awesome, Panda. Just brilliant," I laughed.

She turned to me with a thrilling smile and more giggles. "This is the coolest thing I've ever done," she declared.

"Come on," I said. "'Beware growing too impressed with your own wisdom.'"

Hope turned to me, momentarily confused before remembering the sign from weeks ago. "Oh, yeah!"

We jogged to the storm drain. As I knelt, I felt my body grow alert. My heart quickened; my breath grew more rapid and shallow. The excitement from the climb and the deed, like the times before, sped from me, leaving me in a mildly euphoric state.

But this time was different--stronger. I felt the change in my guts. It occurred to me, then, that the sensation was like the first time I ever saw two sexy women kissing. At the time, I didn't know that was something that I liked, and once I discovered that I did, my body kicked into a sexual gear I didn't even know was available to me.

Squatting beside Hope and preparing to enter the storm drain, my body trembled with sexual anticipation. I wasn't hard, but I knew that the minute something happened, I would grow a hard-on at breakneck speed, and the fucker would be as ready as it's ever been.

And I wanted something to happen down there. Shame be damned.

Hope and I looked at one another. Her eyes seemed fearful and eager at the same time. I wondered if she sensed what was happening to me, if my body was pouring out some strange, hardcore lust energy that she could perceive.

"I'll go," I whispered, and my voice sounded choked off.

I went in head-first, and when I planted my hands against the wall of the culvert, I felt Hope's hands on my legs. My breath caught at her touch. My heart fired like a machine gun.

Hope pushed on the backs of my thighs like she was pretending to help urge my body through the opening but really just feeling me. Then, for a fraction of a second, those little hands drew back before I felt them on my ass as the rest of my body snaked through.

Inside the culvert, I righted myself and spun to her. She came through feet first on her back. I took her legs, sweeping my hands over them and gripping her thighs. I pulled, my eyes riveted to her crotch. She squirmed side-to-side, and I helped her, taking each of her legs in turn by thrusting one hand into her crotch and clutching her thigh with the other. Four times, one of my hands was there, against her pussy before her ass slid through.

The lower hem of her turtleneck, again, got caught as she slid through to her breasts. I saw her vulnerable little navel and the sleek plain of her tummy. I held her by the waist. She was light and warm. The cups of her bra appeared. They, too, were caught. Bare, bulging breast flesh began to appear.

I tugged on her, but half-heartedly. I stared in amazement as more of her chest was revealed. Her nipple--any moment now--but the cup of the bra snapped back. Hope slid through, and I caught her weight.

I was on my back, and she straddled me, hunched over and tugging down her shirt with laughter. I laughed, too, and in the pretense of shifting my weight to a more comfortable position, I thrust my hips into her.

In the faint moonlight, Hope's smile faded. She turned to me. She felt it.

My cock was a steel bollard that her body weight had pinned between my belly and her crotch. Through our pants, I could feel her pussy on its sturdy length.

I didn't say anything. I flexed the muscle, causing it to throb against her. Hope gasped and flinched, but I held her steady.

I did it again.

She snatched a breath, and her big eyes found mine. Stay right fucking there, my eyes signaled. Hers remained wide with surprise.

Again, I flexed my cock.

Again.

Hope closed her eyes as if to pour all of her concentration on what she felt between her legs.

Again.

Hope moaned.

Again.

Her mouth fell open, and her ass--almost imperceptibly--gyrated against me.

I let go of her waist and clutched her ass, squeezing the fucker with near savagery. And I flexed my cock again.

"Oh," she huffed.

Clutching her by the ass, I helped her through another gyration.

"Oh, my gosh!" she moaned.

Hope slowly took control, grinding her pussy on my cock--tentatively at first, but with mounting self-indulgence. When she cried out for the first time, I squeezed her ass with one hand and spanked it sharply with the other.

Hope gasped. Her eyes blinked open, and she leered at me open-mouthed.

I did it again.

She moaned, nodding.

I flexed my cock under her, and suddenly, her hands flew to my chest, gripping me ferociously. The message in her grasp was clear--please don't stop. The rhythm she had established was gone. Her eyes pinched closed as if in anguish. Hope rocked her pussy over my cock in jerking, unpredictable convulsions. Mouth agape, she let out short bursting cries as her core bucked and hitched against me. Then, she let out her breath in a long, guttural moan. Her chest collapsed on mine. She wheezed into my ear, repeating, "Oh, my gosh--oh, my gosh."

I caressed her back and ass gently, not saying a word. I don't know how long it took for Hope to recover, but when she did, she rose from me, shaking her head and opening her mouth to speak.

I didn't let her. I didn't want her gratitude or her apology, and I would not listen to her shame. "Okay, Panda," I said, "Ready to keep going?"

She stammered a bit before replying, "Yeah. Okay."

"Me first."

She hummed an acknowledgment, and I slid out from under her.

Again, crawling through a concrete culvert with an erection was a ridiculous dilemma. My ass almost touched the top as I scooted along. Fuck, I was hard. Another minute of Hope's slow, sensual grinding would have sent me over, but it didn't happen. The flesh memory of her orgasm kept my cock maddeningly rigid.

I could have, I told myself as I inched toward the exit, done more--asked for more, gotten more. I didn't want to--not then. I wanted Hope to feel like I cared about her, but that I didn't exactly need her. Another hot burst of guilt coursed through me.

As I moved along, I wondered about her sexual experience at eighteen.

We never talked about such things together. What I knew, I gathered from brief overheard snippets. "Yeah, we're going together, Mom, but he's just a friend." That was a common one. Maybe two or three boyfriends or dates. Nothing that ever lasted long.

In truth, I had more information from my friends than from being a co-resident of our home with her. My friends occasionally remarked about her within earshot. Of course, they thought her gorgeous and sexy, but they also seemed to view her as a prude.