Date: Wed, 09 Apr 2025 12:48:05 +0000 From: afunstoryteller Subject: CHAPTER THREE - PETER SHOWS UP ** Please DONATE whatever you can to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ ** I would love to see any feedback, comments, and questions y'all have at afunstoryteller@proton.me CHAPTER THREE - PETER SHOWS UP THE SUN WAS BEATIN' DOWN HARD, makin' the treehouse feel like an oven, but we weren't budgin'. Not with what was goin' on down by that pool. Me, Mickey, and Alex were crammed up against the wooden slats, peekin' through the window, tryin' to make sense of what we were seein'. Ms. Mercil was still loungin' like she owned the damn sun itself, Sarah was stretched out workin' on her tan, but now there was Peter--yeah, that Peter--standin' there lookin' all kinds of outta place in his big ol' superhero tee, yellow shorts, and sandals. He had that wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights kinda look, like he'd just walked into a dream he weren't sure he was supposed to be in. And the way Ms. Mercil was smilin' at him, talkin' all sweet, like she'd known him forever? Well, let's just say, things were startin' to get real interesting. The heat was unbearable, and it was makin' everything worse--especially our feet. I peeled my shirt off and kicked my boots off, barely able to breathe from the heat as I tossed `em aside. My socks were soaked through, and the smell hit me right away, like a mix of stale sweat, old leather, and something sour--like a forgotten tunna sandwich left in the back of a car all summer. I felt the sweat run down my back as I tossed them away and let my feet breathe for the first time all morning. Alex, already lookin' miserable, finally pulled off his boots, and when he kicked off his socks, I swear I thought I might gag. His feet smelled like rotten eggs, real strong and putrid. I could smell `em even before he'd pulled `em off. "Damn, Alex, how long you been wearin' them shoes?" Mickey laughed, tryin' to fan his face with one of his socks. Mickey wasn't much better. His feet--hell, they were practically a weapon of mass destruction. He was still grinnin', like it was some kinda badge of honor, but when he took off his shoes, it was like the whole treehouse smelled like milky-rotten cheese. I could almost see the green stink waves rising off of `em. "Y'all think that's bad, wait till you get a whiff of mine," he said, stretchin' his legs out. I had to laugh, even as I fanned my nose. "Ain't no amount of water gonna save us from this smell. I swear, it's like my feet been stewin' in a bag of chips." "Shut up, all of you," Alex grumbled, grabbin' his own bottle of water and splashin' it on his face like it was some kinda holy water. "I'm about ready to dive in that pool just to wash this stink off me." "Yeah, good luck with that," I said, grinnin' and reachin' for my own bottle. Alex grumbled something, but we didn't pay much attention. We were all too busy tryin' to ignore the smell of our own feet and the hot, sticky air inside the treehouse. Thank God for the water bottles Mickey brought along. We kept sippin' and splashin' ourselves, but damn, it was like tryin' to cool off in an oven. And just when I thought I couldn't take another second of the heat, we turned our attention back to the pool. Peter was still standin' there, and Ms. Mercil kept lookin' at him like he was the only person in the world. We were hot, sweaty, stinky, and damn curious. Peter, poor kid, was sweatin' buckets in that big ol' superhero tee and them yellow shorts. You could see the sweat soaking through his shirt, drippin' down his sides, and even the bottoms of his sandals were stickin' to his feet with each step he took. He was tryin' to shift his weight every few seconds, like he didn't know what to do with himself, and it was clear that his feet were slick and squishy inside those sandals, making everything just a lil' more awkward. His face was all red, sweat runnin' down his forehead and neck, and I couldn't blame him--he was roastin' out there like a hot dog on a grill. Ms. Mercil, on the other hand, wasn't sweatin' a bit, sittin' pretty by the pool with that carefree smile on her face. She looked at Peter like she'd been expectin' this moment all along. "Sarah!" Ms. Mercil called out, her voice bright as ever, "Sweetie, could you run in and grab Peter a bathin' suit? And some sunscreen while you're at it? He can't be out here without it." Now, we all turned our heads and stared at Sarah like we hadn't seen her before. Sarah headed inside, her steps slow, but there was a kind of confidence in the way she moved that made it impossible not to watch. I reckon she knew it too, `cause she always did this little prance whenever she knew people were watchin' her. Our eyes followed her every step, gaze locked on her like we're all freakin' mesmerized, her walk a little slower, a little more purposeful. Her bikini bottoms hugged her white bum cheeks, a bit red now from sitting on 'em for some time. The sun had been out for hours, and she wasn't just tan; she was practically glowing with sweat, like a golden shrimp, her skin a mix of pink-shiny and slick from the heat. Every time she took a step, dust and dirt from the ground stuck to her feet, and by the time she reached the door, her soles were lookin' darker and dirtier than before. I don't think she even noticed; she was too busy enjoying the show she was puttin' on, prancin' in front of Peter like she knew he'd be lookin'. Every step she took leavin' a trail of tiny glistening droplets down her back. Peter also seemed to freeze for a second, watchin' Sarah walk back inside, his gaze a little awkward, like he wasn't sure how to feel about what was happenin'. But, hell, we didn't know what to think either, expect we were horny and hard as fuck, sweating inside that darn treehouse. Sarah came back out a minute later, grinnin' like she'd just won the lottery. She had a SpongeBob bathing suit in her hands, the kind you'd expect a little kid to wear, all bright yellow with cartoon bubbles. It looked a little big for Peter tho. She was also holdin' a big bottle of sunscreen, the kind that probably smelled like a tropical fruits, though it was still too early to tell if that was gonna help with the fact that Peter looked like he was about to melt into a puddle right there on the spot. Her face was all excited, like she was doin' him a big favor, and she held the swimsuit out in front of her like it was some kinda golden ticket. "Here you go, Peter!" she said, all perky. "You gotta get in the pool! Can't just stand out here lookin' like a sweaty-creampie all day." Peter took it from her, lookin' all confused but also relieved. He had sweat drippin' down his face, and I could see the way his sandals stuck to the bottom of his feet. Ms. Mercil was still watchin' him with that funny weird smile. She clearly noticed Peter hesitatin', not sure if he wanted to get changed in front of everyone. He was standin' there, his face all red, sweatin' like he was in a furnace, but still unsure of what to do. She smiled at him, her tone soft and gentle, like she was talkin' to someone she'd known for years. "Go on, Peter... Get yourself changed," Ms. Mercil said, her voice calm but encouraging. "Sarah can help you if you need her to." Sarah, who'd been watchin' all this with a little grin, gave a small nod and took a step closer, ready to lend a hand. Alex, squintin' through window, whispered, "Man, I dunno, I think Peter's just gonna stand there and turn into a puddle of sweat. Look at him, he's turnin' into a tomato." I chuckled. "Poor kid! He's slower than a half-brained piglet!!!" I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. Peter looked over at Sarah, his eyes wide and full of uncertainty, like he was tryin' to figure out if it was okay for him to trust her. His fingers twitched, like he didn't know where to put them. Mickey, sittin' next to me, smirked. "Y'all getting the vibe? I bet Ms. Mercil wants to see him fuckin' naked!!!" We all gigglend, a nervous kinda giggle. Slowly, Peter seemed to relax, and the stiffness in his shoulders loosened just a bit. He nodded, and Sarah gave him a little space to move, offering to help if he needed it. I looked over at Mickey, who had his hand on his chin, like he was studying a rare species. "Man, look at Sarah. Is she actually rubbing her pussy?" I wasn't actually payin' much attention to Sarah that moment, but yeah, we all could see Sarah putting her hands between her legs and rubbing a bit everytime Peter looked away. Ms. Mercil leaned in close to Peter, her hand gently on his arm, whisperin' something soft that I couldn't quite catch. I don't know what she said, but from the way Peter's shoulders relaxed, and how his face went from all tense to somethin' more at ease, I figured whatever she said must've worked. She didn't need to shout it from the rooftops or anything--just a few words, and Peter seemed to believe it was all gonna be alright. The way he stopped fidgetin' and looked at the suit Sarah was holdin' out for him, you could tell he wasn't feelin' like a deer caught in the headlights anymore. He looked... well, less like he was gonna explode from stress and more like he was just another kid who needed a little reassurance. And just like that, it was like the whole weird, awkward situation disappeared. Peter's shoulders dropped, and he looked at the suit Sarah was holding out for him, now a little less shy, a little less self-conscious. I watched as Peter stood there for a second, kinda lookin' back at Ms. Mercil and Sarah, like he was still workin' up the nerve. Then, somethin' changed in his eyes. Maybe it was that whisper, or maybe it was just the way Sarah kept standin' there all calm, holdin' that SpongeBob suit like it was the most normal thing in the world. Peter gave a little nod, like he was finally convinced, and then, slow as molasses, he started takin' off his shorts. I could see him lookin' around all nervous-like, but then he just--well, he just did it. He wasn't fussin' about it no more. He took the big tee off. Sarah grabbed it from him. Then, closing his eyes a bit, he pulled down his yellow shorts. Surprisingly, he wasn't wearing any undies. His micro-dick, we could barely see it, but dangled between his legs like a little thumb. He paused for a bit, hiding his little winner with both his hands, but then slid the blue SpongeBob boxer shorts on, and for the first time since he'd showed up, he looked kinda proud of himself. He giggled a bit, his face hot-red. Ms. Mercil clapped her hands, hyping him up! Sarah giggled and sat back down, her hand rubbing between her legs every few seconds. She was so fuckin' into it!!!! "There she goes..." Mickey said, through his teeth. "She's so fucking lit I bet her pussy is drippin' wet!!!" Me and Alex just looked at each other, chuckling. Yep. That was when I freakin' knew we'd be watching a fuckin' SHOW--I mean, fucking really? I couldn't help but grin. How the hell were we so damn lucky?! Mickey, with that devilish smile of his, lit up a cigarette and gave me the most ridiculous thumbs-up I'd ever seen. He grabbed his dad's camera again and started recording the whole damn thing. We were now three sweaty horny teens hidden in a treehouse filming a fuckin' dirty movie!!!! CONTINUE ON CHAPTER FOUR... I would love to see any feedback, comments, and questions y'all have at afunstoryteller@proton.me