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Ducky Park
Lemonade
"To run the lemonade stand all I have to do is squeeze the lemons, throw in the sugar and shake it up, right?" You ask.
"That's about it," You're uncle answers. "There’s water too. The recipe is printed out inside the lemonade stand for you. Is that what you want to do?"
You nod, deciding that the task seems simple enough. Plus you pretty much have all the lemonade you can drink. You find yourself licking your lips in anticipation.
“Don’t do that,” Uncle Jim tells you. “Keep your tongue in your mouth. Especially when you’re working.”
“Okay,” you say.
He tells you there’s an empty stand near the water rides that you should go to. He says that someone will drop by with the supplies you need, then he walks away and leaves you standing there.
With nothing to do but find the stand you head off in the direction of the water rides. You smile at the families, wave to the children, and tip your duck-hat to the ladies.
Eventually you reach your lemonade stand. Moments later, someone brings you a crate of lemons, bags of sugar, and stacks of cups on a cart. You pull the cart into the stand with you and the guy leaves you there to set everything up.
You stack the cups in a corner and run the water from the sink to fill a few of the cups. You squeeze the lemons into cups and throw the lemon-half into the cup along with it. You dump the appropriate amount of sugar in and shake them up.
It doesn't take long for the customers to come over and start purchasing this favorite refreshment of park goers. They sell for five bucks apiece, eight if they want the souvenir cup. They sell like lemonade on a hot day... Which is exactly what they are.
After the initial rush, things slow down a bit and you stand in your little booth staring at the passer-byes as they move along, enjoying the park.
A group of people come out of the white water ride and a woman walks over to your lemonade stand. She is wearing a white T-shirt that is so drenched from the ride that you can see right through the fabric. The sight of her dark nipples arouses you and you find yourself unable to stop yourself from gawking at her.
"Can I get a lemon shake?" She asks.
You don't answer at first so she repeats herself.
"Can I get a lemon shake, please?"
"You have nice boobs," You say at last.
She smiles a little and looks down at them. "Ha, thanks. I knew I shouldn't have worn white, but what am I going to do? It’s too late now." She laughs a little.
“Yeah,” You agree.
"Uh, can I get that drink now?"
"Can I touch them?" You ask.
She stops smiling and actually looks a little freaked out. "What?!"
"Your boobs," You say. "Can I touch them?"
"No," She says coldly. "Just make me a lemon shake, would you?" She crosses her arms over her breasts so that your view of her hard dark nipples is blocked.
You hand her one of the pre-made lemon shakes and she takes it from you.
"You're an asshole," She says plainly, snatching the cup from your hand and walking away furiously. You realize too late that she forgot to pay. But at least you got to see her boobs, right?
Several more minutes go by and you serve a few more customers. The day is progressing rather slowly and you find yourself thinking back to that one perfect customer and her two perfect breasts. You wish she would come back. You feel something stir within you as you think back on the interaction.
Suddenly your dream of her return becomes a reality. You see her walking your way with your Uncle Jim behind her.
"This is him," She says.
"Ricky?" He asks.
"Yeah?" You reply.
"Did you sexually harass this young lady?" He inquires.
"I don't even know what that means," You tell him honestly. You caught the words sex and ass, but aren't sure about the rest.
"He asked if he could touch my boobs," She says.
You smile sheepishly. “Yeah,” you say.
"Come here, Ricky," Uncle Jim tells you. You walk out from the lemonade stand and remember only afterwards that your penis is still stiff from thinking about her breasts. You glance at her chest but are disappointed to see that the fabric has dried enough that her nipples are not clearly noticeable.
"What was he doing, playing with it?!?" She asks, pointing at your dick.
"Uh," you stammer, trying to hide the erection..
"That's it," Uncle Jim says, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. “Ricky, you leave me no choice." He leads you through the park, pulling you by the collar, until you reach the gate. "You're fired," He tells you. "Go home."
You hang your head in shame and start the long walk home. A few hours later you walk through your door to find your father waiting for you, belt in hand.
"You got fired?" Your father says.
You nod.
"For trying to touch a girl's boobs?"
Again, you nod.
Your father shakes his head in disgust before cracking you with the belt over and over again, welts rising quickly on your skin.
You cry yourself to sleep that night. All you wanted was to touch the boobs. You were staring right at them, what was the harm in that? Also it's not like you just reached out and grabbed them, you asked. Now your back hurts and your father is angry.
There is only one thing to blame. Ducky Park.
"To run the lemonade stand all I have to do is squeeze the lemons, throw in the sugar and shake it up, right?" You ask.
"That's about it," You're uncle answers. "There’s water too. The recipe is printed out inside the lemonade stand for you. Is that what you want to do?"
You nod, deciding that the task seems simple enough. Plus you pretty much have all the lemonade you can drink. You find yourself licking your lips in anticipation.
“Don’t do that,” Uncle Jim tells you. “Keep your tongue in your mouth. Especially when you’re working.”
“Okay,” you say.
He tells you there’s an empty stand near the water rides that you should go to. He says that someone will drop by with the supplies you need, then he walks away and leaves you standing there.
With nothing to do but find the stand you head off in the direction of the water rides. You smile at the families, wave to the children, and tip your duck-hat to the ladies.
Eventually you reach your lemonade stand. Moments later, someone brings you a crate of lemons, bags of sugar, and stacks of cups on a cart. You pull the cart into the stand with you and the guy leaves you there to set everything up.
You stack the cups in a corner and run the water from the sink to fill a few of the cups. You squeeze the lemons into cups and throw the lemon-half into the cup along with it. You dump the appropriate amount of sugar in and shake them up.
It doesn't take long for the customers to come over and start purchasing this favorite refreshment of park goers. They sell for five bucks apiece, eight if they want the souvenir cup. They sell like lemonade on a hot day... Which is exactly what they are.
After the initial rush, things slow down a bit and you stand in your little booth staring at the passer-byes as they move along, enjoying the park.
A group of people come out of the white water ride and a woman walks over to your lemonade stand. She is wearing a white T-shirt that is so drenched from the ride that you can see right through the fabric. The sight of her dark nipples arouses you and you find yourself unable to stop yourself from gawking at her.
"Can I get a lemon shake?" She asks.
You don't answer at first so she repeats herself.
"Can I get a lemon shake, please?"
"You have nice boobs," You say at last.
She smiles a little and looks down at them. "Ha, thanks. I knew I shouldn't have worn white, but what am I going to do? It’s too late now." She laughs a little.
“Yeah,” You agree.
"Uh, can I get that drink now?"
"Can I touch them?" You ask.
She stops smiling and actually looks a little freaked out. "What?!"
"Your boobs," You say. "Can I touch them?"
"No," She says coldly. "Just make me a lemon shake, would you?" She crosses her arms over her breasts so that your view of her hard dark nipples is blocked.
You hand her one of the pre-made lemon shakes and she takes it from you.
"You're an asshole," She says plainly, snatching the cup from your hand and walking away furiously. You realize too late that she forgot to pay. But at least you got to see her boobs, right?
Several more minutes go by and you serve a few more customers. The day is progressing rather slowly and you find yourself thinking back to that one perfect customer and her two perfect breasts. You wish she would come back. You feel something stir within you as you think back on the interaction.
Suddenly your dream of her return becomes a reality. You see her walking your way with your Uncle Jim behind her.
"This is him," She says.
"Ricky?" He asks.
"Yeah?" You reply.
"Did you sexually harass this young lady?" He inquires.
"I don't even know what that means," You tell him honestly. You caught the words sex and ass, but aren't sure about the rest.
"He asked if he could touch my boobs," She says.
You smile sheepishly. “Yeah,” you say.
"Come here, Ricky," Uncle Jim tells you. You walk out from the lemonade stand and remember only afterwards that your penis is still stiff from thinking about her breasts. You glance at her chest but are disappointed to see that the fabric has dried enough that her nipples are not clearly noticeable.
"What was he doing, playing with it?!?" She asks, pointing at your dick.
"Uh," you stammer, trying to hide the erection..
"That's it," Uncle Jim says, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. “Ricky, you leave me no choice." He leads you through the park, pulling you by the collar, until you reach the gate. "You're fired," He tells you. "Go home."
You hang your head in shame and start the long walk home. A few hours later you walk through your door to find your father waiting for you, belt in hand.
"You got fired?" Your father says.
You nod.
"For trying to touch a girl's boobs?"
Again, you nod.
Your father shakes his head in disgust before cracking you with the belt over and over again, welts rising quickly on your skin.
You cry yourself to sleep that night. All you wanted was to touch the boobs. You were staring right at them, what was the harm in that? Also it's not like you just reached out and grabbed them, you asked. Now your back hurts and your father is angry.
There is only one thing to blame. Ducky Park.
