The Naked Defender

"What's that?" she wanted to know.

"My wee-wee," I said.

"How come I haven't got one?"

"I dunno. Maybe you're not old enough -- it just hasn't grown yet." She was about six months younger than I, and nodded trustingly. It was the last time she would take my word for anything.

A delightful childhood sex romp by R. P. Veraa, The Naked Defender introduces us to the precocious Aelaida, the cousin every boy wishes he had. With the other unforgettable members of the strangest kids' club in American literature, she lives the wonderful summer of 1946, exploring herself and the world from Lomg Island to New Jersey, taking on the Mafia, and winning.

After lunch Adelaida helped my mother with the dishes and I went to my room and worked on my stamps for a while. When I went outside later, I found her in the back yard playing with a huge wooden spoon. "Hey," I said, "That's my ma's big spoon."

"Mine now," said Adelaida. "She gave it to me."

"How come?"

"She said she never uses it any more and it just takes up space -- won't even fit in a drawer. She was gonna throw it out."

"Whadda you gonna do with it?"

"All kindsa stuff. Look. It's a hobby horse." She stuck it between her legs. "Giddyap," she said, and galloped away.

I followed her. There were woods across the road from my house and a little way down the road there was a path winding down a steep embankment to a little stream. The path continued across the brook with a row of flat stones and continued into the woods to the next road. But Adelaida followed the stream bed upstream back in the direction of my house. She scooped up water with her spoon and took a drink. Then she offered me some. The water was cold and good. Eventually, we left the stream and found a place we'd discovered months before: a little open area surrounded by tall soft ferns. . . .

Then I heard it too. A girl's voice saying "let me go," and then, "oh, please." Adelaida took off in the direction of the voice with nothing but her spoon, and I followed, pulling on my shoes and straightening my glasses. We made a way through the underbrush and I cringed from the slapping burning branches, but Adelaida, stark naked, paid no attention to them. We came to a place where the undergrowth thinned out; soon the woods would give way to back yards of the houses down the road from mine. I had to stop to tie a shoelace, and when I looked up, Adelaida had stopped. Ahead of us were two kids. A girl was tied to a large tree with a piece of clothesline and I recognized her as Diana Lumbeck, a girl in my class. Around her, doing a war dance was a big kid I didn't know. He looked to be in sixth or seventh grade. "Please let me go," said Diana. "I don't wanna play any more."

"Me catchum paleface squaw fair and square," said the big kid.

"I said I don't wanna play any more. I wanna go home."

"Lissen," he said, "you said you'd play, and you're gonna play," he resumed his dance. "Me gotta do something to paleface squaw. Gotta scalp um or something. What me gonna do to squaw?"

"Oh please," she whined.

"Me know," he said, "me gonna de-pants um."

Diana was wearing red shorts, and he undid the waist and pulled them down around her ankles. Then he tugged down her underpants. She was crying by now as he knelt before and pushed her legs apart to look at her cunt. I bit my lip, frightened of the big kid, wanting to help Diana, but afraid to move, wanting in spite of myself to flee.

Then Adelaida's voice rang in the forest, "Hey, shithead."

The big kid jumped up and looked around. Adelaida, naked, with her spoon ran out to him. "Hey, you big motherfuckin' bully. You wanna look at a little cunt, look at mine." She strutted toward him and stood with her legs apart, bending backwards to give him a view. He approached her as though mesmerized, staring at her. Then, when he was close, I heard a sound like a hammer hitting a board.

"Ow," he said. She had hit him hard on the head with her spoon. she hit him again and danced aside as he lunged at her. He turned after her and she hit him again. Then she leaped straight up in the air and kicked him in the stomach with her bare foot. He doubled over and she hit him with the spoon. Then she kicked him in the face with the side of her foot. That straightened him up. His face was all bloody and she kicked his groin. "Ooof," he grunted, and the spoon went on his head. He fell down then, and she kept kicking his body and hitting him with the spoon. I made my way to them. When I arrived, Adelaida was standing over his lifeless body. His eyes were swollen shut and his head and shirt were covered with blood.

"Did ya kill him?" I gasped.

"Nah. He's okay. I'm gonna pee on him."