Part One

My name is Thomas Randolph. On my fiftieth birthday, which fell on May 16, 1967, my beloved wife, Irene, gave me a set of expensive leather-bound journals as a gift. I had just started to do a bit of creative writing as a pastime, so they were an ideal present for me. One of them had the word “anecdotes and memoirs” embossed in gold lettering on its cover. I took that to mean I was to use its pages to record for posterity some memorable incidents in my life. The first one that came to my mind occurred in the summer of 1935 when I was an 18-year-old lad in Macon, Georgia. This is what I wrote.

I came from a well-to-do family. My father was a successful lawyer who specialized in civil cases. He also was a shrewd investor in real estate and various entrepreneurial activities. There was never a money shortage in my family. Dad always gave me a generous allowance that increased every year as a reward for being a good student in high school, a good son to him, and generally a good citizen. I didn’t really need a summer job in 1935 because of the cash that Dad happily gave me on a weekly basis, but he insisted that I find work that dealt with the public once school was dismissed for the summer. He figured it would be a good learning experience, and it would hone my “people skills” by doing it. I agreed.

Our city had opened a new public swimming pool the previous year, which was well used, especially during the brutally hot summer months. Air conditioning hadn’t arrived, so the public generally endured the heat as best they could. A public swimming pool was obviously going to be a popular recreation venue. One thing the pool didn’t have in its first year of operation was a concession booth where people could by cool drinks and treats. That oversight was corrected the following summer—and I became one of the city employees who staffed it when I applied for the job. I just had to prove I was adept at handling money by passing an easy arithmetic test. The city staffer who hired me said, “I predict you’ll do well at this job, Thomas. You’re a handsome young fellow, too. I think you’ll have plenty of female customers.”

Part Two

The concession booth proved to be popular with all demographic groups, but there certainly were plenty of females parading around in their tight-fitting swimsuits, which was a nice fringe benefit for me. I can recall that I sold frozen bars of chocolate from an early type of refrigeration unit that also held ice cream bars. The Depression-era portions were huge. Depending on their size, they cost either a nickel or a dime for a tasty treat that was triple the size of the ones you see today. (Money definitely went a lot further in those days.) On one particularly hot day, I saw a little brown-haired girl, perhaps eight years old, lingering around my booth but not getting in line to buy anything. When the last paying customer had been served, I asked her if she wanted something from the booth.

“I’d love a chocolate-covered ice cream bar, but I have no money for it,” she sadly told me with a frown.

Feeling sorry for her, I took a nickel from my own pocket, showed it to her, and dropped it into the till. “I’ll personally treat you to an ice cream, honey,” I told her. “I can’t stop myself because you are such a sweet little cutie.”

The girl was delighted by my simple act of kindness and my compliment, so she kissed me on the cheek. I was enchanted by her act of affection, so I stepped away from the booth, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her cheek, too. Then I gave her a second ice cream bar, which I also gladly paid for.

“Mister, I’ll gladly trade a kiss for ice cream any day of the week,” she told me before she merrily scampered off. That may have been the first time anyone had called me mister in my young life. Apparently, she told two of her friends about our barter because not long afterwards, a couple of other girls about the same age approached me. They also offered to kiss me in exchange for concession booth treats. I laughed and accepted their proposals. They must have told more girls about my “special deal”. By the time the day ended, I had spent 85 cents of my own money at my concession booth and gotten a total of 17 kisses.

I didn’t make a whole lot of money that hot summer, but I did receive quite a bit of affection from young females. One girl, a pretty, fair-haired 14-year-old named Francene, was especially enthusiastic with her kissing. I often gave her an abundance of treats for her long and superb busses.

Mr. O’Connor, the man who had hired me, eventually found out, somewhat inaccurately, about what was happening. Apparently, a boy complained that he had to pay regular money for snacks but his sister didn’t. When he dropped by the concession stand one afternoon to find out if what the boy had said was actually true, I explained that I wasn’t giving away anything. “If a girl offers to kiss me,” I informed him, “I personally pay for her treat. Check the daily sales figures and inventory totals, sir. Everything always balances. I’m not giving away anything. I’m actually increasing sales here.” As long as I wasn’t cheating the city of Macon out of any profits, he was okay with my unusual method of drawing female customers who had no money to spend. Not only wasn’t I reprimanded, I was congratulated by Mr. O’Connor for being “resourceful and creative” in my dealings with the public.

About a week later, shortly after 9 a.m., I had just arrived to begin my shift at the booth which began at 10 o’clock—the same time the public pool opened. It was a Monday. The pool and the booth were both closed on Sundays. I was required to prepare for business at 9:30 a.m., which included checking supplies and ensuring the booth’s refrigeration system was still working after a day of inactivity. A female who looked to be about 18 approached me. I didn’t recognize her as a regular customer. She looked somewhat hesitant. I smiled and said, “You are a bit early. I’m sorry, miss, but the concession booth doesn’t open until the swimming pool does. That will be at precisely 10 a.m.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she said. “I came here early to speak to you.”

“Oh, go ahead, please,” I said. “You’ll have to excuse me for checking on things in here while you talk.”

“My name is Maureen Ellsworth,” she began. “I’m the oldest of six kids. We’d all love to come here for a refreshing swim in this awful heat, but times are tough. There’s no extra money at my house for any luxuries. The Depression has hit my parents badly. They’re barely scraping by each week.”

“I sell treats, not admission to the pool,” I explained to her. I also told her my name as I continued to get things ready for a typical busy day.

“I know that, too,” Maureen said. “But I have heard that you make deals with the girls to occasionally trade them treats for kisses.”

“It’s more than occasionally, ” I corrected her. “It’s constantly.”

Maureen managed a faint smile at my witty remark. Then she continued, “I figured if a kiss from a girl can earn a treat from you, a fuck ought to be worth a heck of a lot more. Here is what I am proposing: If I let you fuck me this morning, you’ll arrange for me and my five siblings to have daily admission to the pool for a week—Monday through Saturday—plus daily snacks from your concession booth for all six of us. What do you say, Thomas? Do we have a deal?”

I immediately stopped what I was doing to prepare for the 10 o’clock opening. I took a good look at the girl who was making this remarkable offer to me. I noticed her light-orange cotton dress was worn and had a slight tear in one of the shoulders. She was quite pretty and she possessed a better-than-average figure for her 5’3” height. I didn’t ponder the offer for long before accepting it. I thought it was a great bargain. I would have paid for a month’s worth of swims and treats for her whole family in exchange for copulating just once with her.

“You have yourself a deal!” I told her. I pointed to a largely overlooked structure between the pool and my booth. “That’s a supply shed where they keep pool supplies and non-perishable foods for my refreshment stand. It’s not the most romantic venue in the world to have a fuck, and it’s kind of cramped, but I’m not particularly fussy about such things. Are you okay with going there to screw, Maureen?”

She said she was. I looked at my watch and figured I had just 25 minutes to get laid, so I quickly took Maureen by the hand and led her to our unorthodox rendezvous place. I unlocked the shed. It had a small window, so there was just enough sunlight getting in to illuminated the small structure. We both hurriedly disrobed. I sat on a stack of sacks containing pool chlorine while Maureen sat on my lap. I got the impression that this was not the first time she had exchanged sex for some sort of favor. I didn’t feel sorry for her; with Maureen’s naked body pressed against mine, I was too horny for that.

I buried my face into Maureen’s fine set of breasts as she stimulated my dick with both hands. I had a full erection within seconds.

“This is excellent!” I commented.

“I’m glad,” Maureen succinctly replied.

I could have sucked on Maureen’s succulent tits all morning, if time had allowed for it. I then began to finger her pussy. She gently cooed her approval. She uttered a slight gasp when I stuck a finger inside her hairy vagina and began sliding it in and out of her rapidly.

“Time for the real thing,” I informed her. Maureen knew exactly what I meant. I repositioned her so she could impale herself on my rigid penis. Her pussy was surprisingly close-fitting based on my earlier assumptions, which pleased me. There are few pleasures in life that can compare to fucking a tight vagina, so I was enjoying the sensation tremendously as Maureen rode me skillfully. I now suspected she was a pro at performing sexual services.

When my hands weren’t firmly planted on Maureen’s boobs, they were on her waist as I guided her up and down my erect rod. Without my pulling out of her even for a moment, I lifted her and changed positions with her so I could give her a strong missionary-style fucking while she was lying on the lumpy chlorine sacks. I gave her close to a dozen thrusts before I felt a familiar stirring in my groin. “I’ll pull out now, Maureen” I reassured her. Birth control pills were still decades away.

“Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate that gesture,” she said.

Seconds later I exploded with a huge cum shot that sprayed warm jism all over her sexy body. It was the greatest orgasm I had experienced in my life to that point. Luckily the shed had paper towels in it. We spent the next five minutes cleaning my ejaculated goo off Maureen and the bags of chlorine. We then kissed sweetly for a minute or two. It probably meant nothing to her, but I quite enjoyed it.

We got dressed and I gave her the 90 cents she’d need for six admissions to the pool. “I’ll cover your treats when you are finished your swim, ” I told her. “See me at the concession booth. All of you come there at once so I can familiarize myself with you.”

I paused for a moment before saying, “I have an idea, Maureen. I want to make this an ongoing arrangement for us. You show up every Monday around 9 a.m. We’ll have a lovely fuck together in the shed, and, just like this week, you and your brothers and sisters will swim for free all week and get free treats as well—all at my expense. Agreed?”

She kissed me without saying a word. I took that as the equivalent to a definite yes.

That’s how things proceeded. From Tuesday through Saturday, Maureen would stop by my booth. I’d hand her 90 cents, and she and her younger siblings would be admitted to the pool. It was undoubtedly the highlight of the day for each one of them.

I couldn’t help but notice that Edna, the third-oldest child in Maureen’s family, was very attractive, even more so than her sister whom I had now screwed three times. She had lovely long brown tresses that highlighted her good looks. I think her swimsuit was a bit tight on her, which I found appealing, of course. (I assumed it had probably once belonged to Maureen, with Edna receiving it as a hand-me-down garment.) I liked to scrutinize Edna’s burgeoning charms. Maureen caught me ogling her one morning and quietly said to me. “I know who you are looking at and I know what’s going through your head, Thomas. You can forget all about it. I’m the only female in the family who will exchange sex for anything. Edna is off limits to you and every other male.”

“Fair enough, Maureen,” was all I said.

Part Three

Maureen and her siblings were usually finished their swims and had acquired their treats from me before noon. Then they would exit the park. One day I was surprised to see Edna with two friends heading to the pool at about 2:30 in the afternoon. It was a return visit for Edna because I knew I had given her an ice cream bar more than two hours earlier. She waved at me with a smile as she passed by. About two minutes later she was alone and frowning, having been denied admission to the pool.

I waved her over to me as I had no concession customers at the moment. She sadly said she thought that the admission she had paid for the pool in the morning with her siblings would last all day. “I thought I could come and go as I pleased,” she said. “I guess that’s not how it works.”

“I’m actually not sure about that, myself,” I told her. (I later found out that there was no such thing as all-day admission at the pool unless you bought a yearly membership. Edna obviously did not have one.) I was going to give her 15 cents from my pocket as a goodwill gesture to repay her admission so she could swim with her two buddies, but Edna had another, more sinful idea.

“I know Maureen fucks you once a week to pay for our swims and treats, Thomas,” she admitted. “If I give you a fuck right now, would you cover my admission this afternoon so I can have fun with my friends?”

I couldn’t say yes fast enough—but I still had to work for another half hour. Luckily, Jason, who worked the shift after me had just arrived early. I sweet-talked him into replacing me a bit earlier than usual. I told him I had “an emergency” to tend to. When he asked me what it was, I promptly pointed to Edna, who couldn’t hear what I was saying, and said, “If I can get you to take my place right now, I have the chance to fuck that sexy girl’s brains out. If I have to work my full shift until 3 p.m., I can’t. I’d call that an emergency, wouldn’t you?”

Jason, being a sympathetic male, fully agreed with my priorities and took over for me at the concession booth immediately. I escorted Edna to the supply shed for some dual recreation.

“I’ll be honest with you, Thomas,” Edna told me. “I’ve never had sex before. You’ll have to guide me through this. I hope that’s okay. Is it?”

“Yeah, I think I can tolerate fucking a gorgeous virgin!” I replied. I’m not sure if Edna picked up on the sarcasm in my statement. “Just get undressed and we can begin.”

Edna looked as terrific naked as I imagine she would. I had been fantasizing about screwing her since she had been declared forbidden fruit by Maureen. She had a cute set of pokey tits, quite unlike the shape of her sister’s, that drew my attention. Her pussy had just a hint of hair on it, which was a real turn-on to me.

I gave my sex partner simple instructions: “Your task, Edna, is to lie on those bags of chlorine, get as comfortable as you can, relax, and let me ravish you. Basically, you have to do nothing but spread your legs and let me penetrate you.”

“Sounds like easy work to me,” she responded.

“I’ll do all the work,” I promised. “It’s a tough task, but someone has to do it.” That time I saw a smile briefly cross Edna’s pretty face.

I realized that I was under no time constraint—apart from Edna wanting to join her friends in the pool—so I could do a longer, more thorough fuck with her than I’d done at any time with Maureen in our three romps so far. I caressed and sucked on her tits. Then I moved to her inviting pussy where I licked it up, down and sideways for several minutes. Edna obviously liked that by the gentle sighs I was hearing from her and the obvious glow in her face. “This is better than swimming!” she announced.

I was, of course, as hard as a boulder by this point. I stood and rubbed my dick across Edna’s torso, stopping at her breasts. I made a point of rubbing it against both her hard nipples. “Just having a bit of male fun with a female, ” I explained to Edna.

I then crawled atop her and slowly pushed my dick inside Edna’s vagina. I thought Maureen had a tight pussy—until I sampled her sister’s most private part. The sensation was out of this world. “Best pussy I’ve ever entered, Edna,” I told her. “I won’t last long in here.” Indeed, after about half a dozen slow thrusts, I couldn’t hold out any longer. A cum explosion filled her crevice. I felt Edna achieve an orgasm too, which made our fucking even more magnificent. Still hard, I gave Edna five more stiff thrusts of my manhood accompanied by lustful groans before pulling out.

“Thank you, Thomas. That was wonderful. I’d almost rather stay here with you for another great fuck, but my friends Sarah and Irene are waiting at the pool for me. I told them you would take care of my admission one way or another—and I was right.” I quickly handed Edna three nickels. She got back into her tight swimsuit and I went home.

My summer job ended about two months later. I figure it had been a money-losing proposition for me with all the cash I had expended on kisses with various girls and the pricy screwing deal I had made with Maureen Ellsworth. Mr. O’Connor was very pleased with me as the concession booth’s cash intake had exceeded even the most optimistic estimates for summer profits. He invited me back to do the same job in the summer of 1936.

I had to grow up in a hurry before 1936 arrived. Edna became pregnant from our fabulous romp in the supply shed. When she was three months pregnant, she couldn’t hide the fact any longer. My father was initially appalled at what I had done, but he quickly grew to love Edna as I did. She really was a sweet, beautiful, clever and loving girl. Edna’s parents seemed to be happy that she had been impregnated by the son of one of the richest men in Macon. She was one less person in the Ellsworth household to feed and clothe.

Our wedding was a low-key affair because of the circumstances, but I insisted on a light-hearted touch at the reception. We had a huge table full of frozen desserts—all the varieties of ice cream and chocolate bars that I had sold from the concession booth that summer. When I had a chance to speak to Maureen, I gave her something to consider, “As you fully know, Maureen, I love Edna dearly. However, if I had come inside your vagina any of the dozen times we had sex this summer, you’d likely be at my side today as my bride. Judging by what happened with just one terrific romp with Edna, I suspect you Ellsworth girls are a fertile bunch.”

Edna gave birth to a daughter six months later. We named her Summer in honor of the season when she was conceived. Sadly, Edna didn’t have a long life. She died of ovarian cancer in May of 1964. I remarried quickly. Irene, the woman who gave me the journal I am writing in, became my second wife in October of 1965. She was one of Edna’s two buddies from that memorable day at the pool when Edna wrongly thought she didn’t have to pay for an afternoon swim.