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Dr. Hooters #11: Marsha's Quince
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
DR. HOOTERS - Part XI
Marsha's Quince (pr. keen-say)
[by Servax]
Sherrie Rodriguez turned to her friend Marsha Sanchez. "I
**know** its your quince, Marsha, but if your gonna have it at my
house, you're gonna have to invite her."
Marsha was far from uninterested in what Sherrie had to say.
Having her quince at the Rodriguez' house would insure its being
the social event of the end of the school year. Also, Sherry was
her oldest and dearest friend. She looked at Sherry imploringly.
"But I don't know her. Would she come?"
"My brother wants her to come. He says he's seen her at school,
and he's just dying to know her." Sherrie began polishing her
nails absent-mindedly with an emory board. "And if Marty doesn't
come, I can't guarantee that Manny will show up. You know how
these boys stick together."
"If he met her at school, how come I don't know her?", asked Mar-
sha.
"I didn't say he met her at school, querida", replied Sherrie, "I
said he **saw** her at school. She goes to the school behind
the High School."
"The **GRADE** school behind McArthur?", screamed Marsha,
"Just how old is this little slut? I'm not doing any baby-
sitting at my quince. Is she twelve?"
"Actually, she has an older sister who goes to the same school",
replied Sherrie. "I think the sister's twelve. I think Amanda's
eleven. Doesn't matter, though. Marty pointed her out to me.
She looks an easy fifteen. I'd be surprised if she's not already
passing."
Marsha was glum. "Eleven years old. All the equipment, all the
horsepower, no brakes." She thought for a while. "OK, I'll in-
vite her, for you and for Marty."
"Invite the sister, too", ordered Sherrie.
Marsha's mouth opened wide, but Sherrie prevented the outburst.
"I've **seen** these two, you haven't. What did you look like at
eleven?"
"Braces on my teeth, band-aid on my knee. All wrists, elbows,
knees and ankles. Not a pretty sight."
"Right", observed Sherrie, "and you turn fifteen on the ninth.
You didn't turn out bad at all, querida, and if you don't believe
me, you can ask any one of my brothers. But these girls, they
both look better than we do right now. They're thoroughbreds,
and they're gonna be like skyrockets, sabe? If we let them hitch
a ride with us now, maybe they'll let us hitch a ride with them
later on."
Marsha slipped her hand into Sherrie's. "You're right, you
know".
"I always am, querida".
***********************
The invitations arrived at Blair's and Amanda's apartment in
cream colored linen envelopes the richeness of which astounded
everyone. Mary was a little apprehensive about letting her girls
go to a social function at which there would be both boys and
girls, but Blair and Amanda pestered her continually, until fi-
nally she gave in.
"The Rodriguezes are a well-off family. You're gonna need some
fancy clothes" Mary said as she marked the ninth of June in red
on the calendar.
Of course, Blair and Amanda could think of little except the par-
ty, and what they were going to wear. For swimming, the suits
they already had were servicible. With swimwear, what's under-
neath is much more important, after all.
But they needed formal outfits for the presentation,and jeans and
tops for the dance afterwards. Mary gave it a good deal of
thought. These were girls whose families indulged their every
whim. It was necessary that her girls be well-dressed, but not
to compete with their hosts needlessly. It took a while, but
they finally found the perfect outfits; for Amanda, a formal
gown in cream with a peach colored floral design, a white V-neck
snd white gloves. For Blair, she chose a light green dress with
yellow highlights, and yellow gloves.
For the dance afterwards, she decided to let them splurge on
Guess jeans with matching tops. The girls wanted to show off
some titty, which was not surprising, given their ages and the
relative abundance of that commodity with them, and its relative
scarcity elsewhere in their age group. They chose buff-coloured
t-shirts that scooped down daringly in front, held together by a
leather thong tied shoe-lace style across their chests.
The Rodriguez' house was an imposing manse in the northern end of
the county, surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Mary dropped
Blair and Amanda off at the gate, waited as they rung the bell,
and were ushered inside. Then she drove off.
Sherrie Rodriguez, the third daughter of the wealthy Rodriguez
family, met them at the gate, and offered them her cheek to kiss,
in the Latin style. "Mandy! Blair! I'm so glad you could
make it!", she bubbled, "Come on up to the house. Let me
show you off! You two look good enough to eat. Who did your
hair? You **must** tell me."
Blair and Amanda were astonished by the attention they were re-
ceiving from such a rich and important person, and Amanda art-
lessly blurted out, "Our Mom did our hair, actually."
Sherrie laughed. "Oh, how delightful! She did a wonderful job
with you two."
Actually, Mary had spent a good deal of time on the girls' hair
and makeup, an investment which had paid rich dividends. Both
Blair and Amanda looked years older than their age, and glowed
with youth, good health, and excitement. If any other had been
there to observe, he would have thought Sherrie, who was fifteen,
the youngest of the trio. Her legs had less shape, and her bust
was smaller.
Sherrie ushered them into the house, where they found the party
already in full swing. Blair and Amanda felt themselves swept
into a world of teenage privilege and glamour beyond their imagi-
nations, and listened breathlessly as the other girls talked
about yacht parties on Biscayne Bay, summers in Spain, modelling
assignments on South Beach, boyfriends with horses and college
guys with Mercedes convertibles. The astounding thing was that
all these fine girls were treating them almost as equals. Blair
and Amanda added little to these conversations, which actually
raised their stock in the sight of their new friends, who appre-
ciated little more than the adoring silence of girls more beauti-
ful than they.
The climax came with the presentation of Marsha Sanchez, on the
arm of Sherrie's father, and the young men in in their tuxedos,
then Marsha danced with her cousin Domingo. After that, all the
young men began to choose partners for the presentation waltz.
Blair and Amanda were so excited, they didn't notice their
breasts tingling. They were tingling all over.
Sherrie came up with two extremely handsome young men, one on
each arm. "Blair, Amanda, I want you to meet my brother, Marty,
and his friend Eric Preston." SHe opened her arm to indicate her
two charges. "This is Blair Reilly and her sister, Amanda Quin-
tero. I'll leave you all to get acquainted." then she wafted off
to another corner of the room.
Blair surveyed Eric. He was a blonde haired, green eyed boy of
medium height, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had
wavy hair and a kind smile, and Blair decided she liked him. He
invited her to dance, and she accepted.
Marty, on the other hand, was a very tall Cuban boy with jet
black hair and eyes dancing with fire, grabbed Amanda's hand and
pulled her out to the floor. "Amanda", he whispered, "I've been
waiting weeks to meet you. I'm so glad..."
Amanda was puzzled. "But where have you seen me?", she asked.
"At school", he replied, "and you were at the fence."
Amanda blushed red. "Then you know... , I..., you...", she sput-
tered. It came back to her now, the tall, handsome Cuban boy, on
the track team, who always seemed to be smiling at her. Her
breasts felt like they were on fire. She snuggled in closer to
Marty, and when her chest met his, it was like an electric shock
went through her. She sighed.
"I know you're only twelve years old, Amanda", Marty whispered in
her ear, "but I'll never tell anyone. I want you to be my date
tonight. After the presentation, they'll let us change, and
the rock band will be playing out by the pool,and we can really
have some fun."
Amanda looked up into his shining eyes, like the eyes of the
pirate on the cover of her book. He doesn't know, she thought,
leaning her head against Marty's chest. She scratched the side
of her left breast. Her breasts were burning badly now, and even
the chafing of her bra, and her gown were almost insupportable.
The waltz stopped, then Marsha's father, with Sherrie's by his
side, announced that the young people could change, and that
their party would continue out by the pool.
Eric and Marty made Blair and Amanda promise them to meet them by
the pool, then they disappeared with the other boys to change out
of their formal wear. Blair and Amanda exited the ballroom with
the other girls, passing up the stairs into a hall full of bed-
rooms where they changed into their less formal clothes.
*****************
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