I went inside and closed the door. After emptying my bladder into her toilet I buttoned up my pants prior to flushing. When my pants were secure I pushed the handle and used the noise of the toilet to cover the sound of me opening up her medicine cabinet. I took a look inside, quickly flitting my eyes over the shelves full of aspirin, old antibiotics, and various over the counter remedies. I spotted what I was looking for on the bottom shelf. A square plastic case with little white pills and occasional rows of pink ones imbedded in it. Each of the pills was in a spot marked with the day of the week. The pink ones were sugar pills, put in there only so the woman would be able to keep in the habit of taking one a day during her period. I picked up the case, seeing both that she was current and that she was not due for her period for more than a week. I smiled. I would have had to come up with another plan if she had not been on some sort of birth control. And being able to predict her period was a bonus I hadn’t counted on.
When I emerged from the bathroom she was putting her clothes in the dresser.
“Anita?” I asked her as I folded up the ladder.
“Yes,” she asked, turning towards me.
“You have Tracy coming over to baby-sit on Saturday, don’t you?”
She creased her brow a little. “Yes,” she agreed. “Your mother said she would.”
“Well,” I said, carefully, “the fact is that Tracy had plans for that night and my mom kinda ruined them by volunteering her to baby-sit.”
Anita’s face immediately turned to distress. “Oh my goodness,” she said. “I had no idea Tracy had plans. If I’d of known that I never would have asked your mother.” She shook her head. “Your mother told me that she’d be happy to baby-sit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “Mom’s like that sometimes.”
“Well I’ll just cancel my plans,” she announced. “I don’t want to make Tracy miss her party. Especially after all she’s done for me in the past. And you kids never accept any money for what you do.”
“Well, you don’t have to cancel your plans,” I told her. “I talked to Tracy about it and I don’t have anything to do on Saturday. I thought maybe I could take her place. That way both of you could go to your parties.”
“You?” she said doubtfully.
“Why not?” I said. “I like your kids a lot, and they like me. I can take care of them all right. We’ll have fun.”
It took a few more minutes but finally I convinced her. Shortly after that I went home. But I wouldn’t be home for long.
When I walked in the door Mom and Dad were both home. Mom was cooking up something in the kitchen. It smelled like steak. Dad was watching the news on television. I gave him a quick hello and headed directly for mom. She would be the authority on the subject I was about to discuss.
It took ten minutes and a phone call to Anita but I secured her permission to baby-sit Anita’s kids in Tracy’s place. She was doubtful about the plan and I knew she would probably call every ten minutes while I was over there, but I was able to wear her down.
With a smile on my face, I headed upstairs. I paused at Tracy’s room and gave a knock on the door. From behind it came the sound of yet another teenybopper band. The music turned down and the door creaked open. She looked at me.
“Looks like you’re gonna be partying on Saturday,” I told her.
“You convinced them?” she asked in disbelief.
“Putty in my hands,” I assured her.
“Oh thank you!” she squealed, pulling me to her and giving me a big hug. She drew back and looked at me. “You know, Billy,” she said, “sometimes you’re not such a little asshole after all.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Trace,” I told her, walking away.
I entered my room as happy as I’d been in a while.
________________________________________
After dinner I went upstairs and took a shower, cleansing my body and making sure to brush my teeth and use plenty of mouthwash. I put on the tightest pair of pants I could find, a pair that hugged my lower body like a second skin. I put on a clean sweater and combed my hair. I checked my watch. 6:40. Almost an hour and a half to go. I pulled out my books and began studying.
At 8:30 I had completed all of my homework and stowed it neatly away in my backpack. I went to Tracy’s room and knocked on the door. She opened it.
“Can I use your phone a minute, Trace?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, waving me inside.
She had been doing her homework I saw. Her Biology book and a spread of papers were scattered on her desk. She was dressed in her jeans and sweatshirt still. Her teenybopper album was still playing on the stereo.
Earlier I’d looked in my mom’s phone book and found Mike’s phone number, which, of course, I did not remember. I picked up her phone and dialed it.
His mom answered and I asked for him. A moment later he came to the phone.
“Hey, dude,” I said, “I’m telling my parents I’m coming over to your house tonight for a while. So don’t call me.”
“You got it, dude,” he assured me. “What’s up?”
“Oh, I’m just going out for a while.”
“Doing anything cool?” he asked, fishing for an invitation.
“Naw,” I assured him. “Just gonna fuck off a little.”
“Whatever,” he said, disappointed, sulking a little, but at least I was safe from being busted via a telephone call from him. “See ya tomorrow.”
When I hung up Tracy looked at me questioningly. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Out,” I told her.
“Just out?”
“Just out,” I said, my tone telling her she should mind her own business. I headed downstairs.
“Mom, I’m going over to Mike’s for a little bit,” I said as I passed through the living room.
“All right, dear,” she said absently, her attention riveted to the television. “Be back by ten.”
“I will.”
Three minutes later I was in front of Anita’s house. I could see that the light was on in the living room and the faint blue glow of a television screen shining through. I found myself nervous as I contemplated what I was about to do. Was this really wise? If I had misread her I could get into a lot of trouble. I might even end up talking to a shrink or something. But my little head told me I was doing the right thing. Even at 32 I still listened to him probably more than I should. I walked up her driveway. After another brief, fearful pause at the front door, I knocked.
The sound of her voice came drifting through the door. “Who is it?““It’s Billy,” I said, speaking only as loud as I thought I needed to in order to be heard.
“Billy?” she said, confused. A moment later the door crept open about six inches, revealing her. She was wearing a robe I saw, pulled tight around her body. Her face was void of makeup and a towel was over her head, allowing a few damp strands to peek out.
“Hi,” I said, embarrassed, not even faking it. “I was wondering if I could uh… well, talk to you about something for a minute?”
“What is it?” she asked, immediately concerned.
“It’s kind of personal,” I told her. “Could I uh… come in?”
“Uh…” She hesitated for a second, leading me to believe I’d made a terrible mistake. Then she said, “sure, come on in.”
She opened the door, allowing me entry. I stepped into her living room and she shut the door behind me. Her living room was now absolutely spotless. The television was on showing a news program. A half-full wineglass sat on the coffee table near the couch. A glance into the kitchen revealed a half-empty bottle of white wine. My hopes perked up. She’d been drinking.
“Sit down,” she said, looking at me. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Oh, no thank you,” I told her, heading for the couch and planting myself near where she would sit.
She came over and sat down next to me, her robe riding up a little in the process and allowing me a brief glance of her milky white thighs before she pulled the hem back down. She picked up her wineglass and had a sip before using the remote control to turn down the volume on the television.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I asked her nervously.
“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just watching the news before Dallas comes on. What’s wrong?”
“Well,” I started, “it’s kind of embarrassing you know, but…”
“Billy, what is it?”
“Well,” I continued, “you’ve been a good friend to me and I feel like I can, you know, trust you.”
“Of course you can trust me,” she said.
“But you’re also friends with my mother,” I said. “I really wouldn’t want to have her find out about what I have to ask.”
“If you don’t want me to tell her, I won’t tell her,” Anita assured me. “Think of me as a doctor.”
I paused for a moment, as if I was thinking it over. Finally I said, “Okay, well, you’re younger than my mother and you’re a girl and all, so I thought maybe you’d understand.”
“Understand what?” she asked.
“I’ve got a girlfriend!” I blurted.
She smiled. “Well good for you,” she said happily. “What’s her name?”
“Debbie,” I said, pulling out the first name to come to mind. “We’ve been going out for a while and…”
“And what?” she asked.
“And well,” I took a long pause, considering my words. “And it’s getting to the point where she wants to, you know, do things with me.”
She raised her eyebrows, blushing a little. “Do things?”
“You know,” I said. “Like uh… sex.”
“Sex?” she said, blushing harder now.
Ok going out now… update later if i come back early
Quote:
Originally Posted by
whiskynaam
Ok going out now… update later if i come back early
haha better update more in one shot man! i think u like the pts more rather than none
thanks for the gd story..im hooked~!
Quote:
Originally Posted by
blade
haha better update more in one shot man! i think u like the pts more rather than none
thanks for the gd story..im hooked~!
hehe.. of course got pts gd la.. but most impt is u guys like the story… that one better than anything else
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Billy,” she said sternly, “don’t you think you’re a little young to be thinking about sex?”
I looked at her confused. “Anita,” I said honestly, “sex is pretty much all I think about. How old were you when you first, you know, did it?”
She licked her lips a little. “Okay,” she said, smiling a bit. “I see your point. So you’re saying she wants to have sex with you?”
“Yes.”
“And do you want to have sex with her?”
“More than anything,” I answered. “But you see, I uh, well, I’ve never had, uh, sex before.”
“And has she?” Anita asked.
“I think so,” I said. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how to do it.”
“Well I’m sure if she loves you…” Anita started.
“Love?” I interrupted. “Love doesn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t love her, she’s just my girlfriend. She expects me to do it with her and I’ve told her I’ve done it before.”
“You lied to her?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you have any idea what would happen if people found out I was a virgin? I’m in high school. You have to be a stud or people think you’re a fag!”
She took a moment to digest this, perhaps thinking back to her own high school days. When it was processed she nodded a little, licking her lips again. “I suppose you’re right,” she told me. “So what is it you want from me?”
“Can you tell me how to do it?” I asked, looking hopefully at her. “Please?”
“Tell you how to do it,” she said to herself, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “So I’ll know how to make it seem like I’ve done it before. Like, you know, how do I treat her boobs and all? And how do I, you know, put it in? How are you supposed to move once you’re in? They don’t teach you this stuff anywhere! Debbie’s a blabbermouth. If I don’t do it right, the whole school will think I’m a virgin by the next day. You gotta help me!” I pleaded, seemingly near tears.
“Billy,” she said. “I appreciate your fears but you can’t just tell someone how to do it. The only way to learn is, well, to do it a few times. It comes naturally, you’ll see.”
“But I told her I’ve done it before!” I said. “She’ll know! Can’t you at least tell me a little bit about how to do it? What about foreplay?”
“Foreplay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I heard you’re supposed to do foreplay. I don’t even know what that is!”
She looked at me in shock for a moment and then burst out laughing. I flushed as if deeply embarrassed.
“Forget it,” I said angrily, standing up. “I’ll just go home.”
“No, no,” she said, stifling her outburst. “I’m not laughing at you, just at what you said. I’m sorry.”
Slowly, I put myself back down in the chair, noting the gleam forming in her eye. For the first time I felt I was making some headway. I noticed she’d let the hem of her robe creep up a bit, showing me her flesh up to mid-thigh. She’d also let the top open a bit, revealing a bit of cleavage and confirming my suspicion that she had no bra on under the robe. Perhaps I hadn’t made a mistake in coming here.
“Listen,” she said, “there’s a lot involved in making love. It takes a lifetime to learn it all. But you just want to seem like you’ve done it before, right?”
“Yes!” I agreed.
“Okay,” she said, downing the rest of her wine and setting the glass down. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thank you!” I blurted.
She took a deep breath. “Tell me,” she said, “how far have you gone before?”
“Well,” I said, “we’ve kissed a lot and she’s let me feel her boobs through her shirt a few times.”
“Okay.” Anita nodded.
“And one time she let me put my hand under her shirt. But she wouldn’t let me put it under her bra.”
“And that’s as far as you’ve gone?”
“Yes.”
“But she’s hinted that she’d like for you to do more soon?”
“Uh huh,” I said. “That’s why I came to you.”
“Okay,” Anita said. “If I tell you this, it has to remain here, do you understand? You’re mother, your friends, nobody can ever find out about what I’ve told you. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I said, sensing the kill coming. “I promise.”
“Okay.” She smiled, leaning back into the couch a little. “I’ll teach you the basics on how to have sex with a girl.”
“I knew you’d help me, Anita,” I said with a grin, feeling an erection starting already as I saw the shine in her eyes increase. Her nipples were hard. I could see them poking through the fabric in her robe. And she kept shifting her legs back and forth while she sat there. She was showing unmistakable signs of arousal. Signs a fifteen-year old wouldn’t be able to pick up upon, but signs that were very familiar to a 32 year old.
“I’m glad to help,” she told me. “Now the most important thing in the early stages is to be gentle. Girls don’t like it when you maul them. If she lets you feel her breasts, don’t squeeze them hard, caress them.”
“Caress them?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “You need to touch them gently, as if they were a delicate egg or something. Remember that. Don’t break the egg. Just glide your hands over them and don’t attack the nipples. Just run your fingers over them for a few minutes. Touch them lightly. That really gets girls hot.”
“Wow,” I said. “Like this?” I held up my hands and roughly moved my thumb and index finger back and forth.
“No no,” she said, shaking her head. “You have to…” She paused, thinking. “Well,” she said softly. “I suppose it would be easier to show you instead of telling you.”
“Show me?” I asked, feigning confusion but feeling my cock leap to full life. I’d done it! She was going to show me.
“Yes,” she said. “Again, you can never tell anyone, but in the interest of education, I suppose I could volunteer as a test subject.”
“What do you mean?” I asked naively.
Slowly she put her hands to her robe and opened it at the chest, revealing her silky skin and freeing her braless tits. They were glorious, sagging only a little, the size of softballs. The large nipples were standing out proudly, just begging to be touched and sucked. “Here,” she told me. “Give me your hands.”
Slowly I reached out and put my hands in hers. She took them and placed them upon her tits, allowing me to feel the soft, springy flesh, the hard points of the nipples pressing into my palms.
“Now caress them,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “Pretend I’m Debbie.”
“Okay,” I said, faking a stutter. I began to squeeze and caress them, running my fingertips over the soft flesh, twirling around her nipples, which were easily the diameter of dimes. I hefted their weight in my hands, testing them, before going back to caressing. Her eyes softened as I did this, her breathing quickening.
“Very good,” she said, pushing her chest forward into my hands. “You’re a quick learner.”
“Cool,” I muttered, continuing my actions. I looked below her tits as I did this, seeing her stomach. The skin was tanned and looked soft although there were a few creases and stretch marks. Her belly button was large and had a faint fuzz of black hair leading downward from it. I could almost make out her crotch but her robe was still closed over that portion of her body.
“Wouldn’t she want me to, you know, suck on them?” I asked Anita. “Girls like that, don’t they?”
“They love it,” Anita breathed, twisting her shoulders into me now. “But it’s another thing that you have to do carefully,” she explained. “You have to treat a nipple like a baby does. Pretend you’re sucking on a bottle when you suck a tit. Don’t go after it like a shop-vac.”
“Can I try it?” I asked her. “Just to make sure I’m doing it right?”
“I suppose,” she allowed, reaching up and putting her hand to the back of my head.
She pulled my face to her left breast and my lips contacted the soft skin just above the nipple. I kissed and sucked for a second and then moved down, taking her large nipple in my mouth. As I began to gently suck she moaned, her fingers twining through my hair. I put my hands on her stomach, sliding them around to her back and pulling her tighter to me. I lapped and slurped at her nipple, tasting every square millimeter of it before switching to the right one. I took that nipple in my mouth and gave it a similar treatment.
I raised my head from her chest. “Is this what foreplay is?” I asked her.
“Yesss,” she hissed. “But if you really want to master foreplay, there’s one thing you want to know how to do.”
“What’s that?” I asked, licking her nipple once more.
“How to eat a woman, er, a girl.”
“You mean…”
“You need to know how to eat pussy,” she told me.
“Can you teach me?” I asked, looking up at her flushed face.
“Yes.” She nodded, putting her hands to the top of my head and pushing me downward.
Her robe parted and her chunky legs spread before me, revealing her crotch. It was covered with a mat of thick, curly, black hair. Her pink lips, swollen with her excitement, protruded from the center of her bush. Her clit was peeking from its hood near the top. Her thick, clean smell rose up before me, driving my desire, making me long to bury my face between those soft legs. I gave up all pretenses and dove in to her, attacking her slit with my tongue.
“Ohhhh!” she squealed in surprise as I drove my tongue into her body, plunging it in and out, lapping up her juices. She tasted so good. There is nothing like eating a pussy that is attached to a woman who has just emerged from bathing. Nothing!
I licked up and down, in and out, while her hands pulled me closer and her bare legs wrapped around my back. I felt her legs as I ate her, admiring the silky softness of them. When she started to buck back at me I went for her clit, licking it and then finally sucking it into my mouth. Her moans were so loud I feared the neighbors would hear. Not that I stopped because of this.
She came after only a few minutes, a loud screaming orgasm that splashed my face with her fragrant juices and made her rip several strands of my hair from my scalp. When she finally calmed down I looked up at her, my face wet, hairs sticking from between my teeth. Her expression was of total disbelief.
“Was that how you do it?” I asked her, sliding my finger through her slippery slit.
She nodded, speechless.
“Can you tell me how to fuck now?” I asked, taking off my sweater and throwing it to the floor.
A minute later I was completely naked and climbing between her thick thighs. I ran my fifteen-year old cock up and down her slimy slit for a moment and then she grabbed my ass with her hands and pulled. I slid inside of her easily, feeling her grip at me, feeling my pubis mash against hers. Though she was looser than Debbie, she was certainly more experienced. Her hips rose up to meet me and she clenched her vaginal muscles expertly. She had been married after all, and knew how to fuck. She did it well I quickly discovered as I began pounding in and out.
Her soft stomach pressed against mine as my pelvis moved to her rhythm. Her soft thighs slid against mine, quickly building up a sheen of sweat upon which to glide. I leaned down, feeling those tits push against my chest. My mouth found hers and our tongues began a desperate duel as we pleasured each other with our nether regions.
“Oh fuck me!” she cried, squeezing my ass cheeks. “It’s been so long. Fuck me!”
“Yeah,” I said, slamming harder, feeling her rise up to meet each thrust.
She broke our kiss and stared directly into my eyes, taking in my features. Her hands left my ass and began gliding over my legs, my back, my arms, playing with my armpits. Her expression was of exalted disbelief, leading me to believe I was fulfilling a fantasy of hers. She’d wanted to fuck a fifteen-year old and now she was getting her fantasy.
“Harder!” she commanded. “Fuck me harder!”
I pounded her mercilessly and soon her hips and her fingernails on my back told me she was coming again. She screamed out her pleasure as it hit her.
“Now come in me!” she commanded breathlessly. “Oh come in me! Let me feel your fresh come squirting in my body! Oh God, please? Come in me!”
“You want it?” I asked her, holding back for the moment.
“Yesss!” she answered, pounding her hips and grasping my cock with greater force. “Let me feel it. Let me feel your come!”
“You like fifteen year old boys?” I asked her, slamming and slamming. “You like to feel their come shooting in you?”
“Ohhhhh!” she moaned, sticking her finger in my ass and moving it in and out.
“Do you?” I asked. “Tell me. Tell me what you like and I’ll come.”
“Oh God,” she moaned, adding another finger to my ass, nearly causing me pain, but causing me great pleasure at the same time. “I love it. I’ve always wanted a teenager! I’ve always wanted to fuck you! Now please, come in meeeeeeee!”
“Here it comes, baby,” I told her, increasing my thrusts. I felt the surge running up my spine. It was going to happen now, it was inevitable. My hips became a blur and waves of pure pleasure ran through my body as spurt after spurt shot from my cock into her grasping pussy.
“Yesssss!” she screamed, feeling me shooting. Even after my thrusts slowed to a stop, hers continued. Finally we both were motionless.
We kissed each other for a few moments, swirling our tongues together in the afterglow of great sex and then she looked up at me, her eyes showing shame and confusion.
“You were great,” I told her, giving her left tit a friendly squeeze. “Absolutely great.”
“What have I done?” she asked, more to herself than me. “Oh my God!”
I leaned down and kissed her again, licking at her lips a little. “You’ve done nothing, Anita,” I said. “Nothing at all but give your friend Billy a little friendly advice for his girlfriend.”
She shook her head violently. “No,” she told me, pushing me off of her. I slid off with a wet slurp. Her legs were still wide and a big glob of my sperm drooled out of her slit. She closed them quickly. “God, what have I done?”
I rolled over and sat up. “Had a good time?” I asked, stretching a little.
“I can’t believe this!” she said, near tears. “You’re Margaret’s son! And I’ve, I’ve, taken advantage of you!”
“You did no such thing, Anita!” I told her.
“I did!” she insisted, tears running down her face now.
“No,” I told her. “You didn’t. I took advantage of you.”
She shook her head, pulling her robe around her. “That’s nice of you to say, Billy, but you’re a fifteen year old kid and I’m an adult. You came to me for help and I… I took advantage of that because it’s been so long since I’ve had sex. I let my horniness get the better of me and I’ve done something awful. I…”
“Anita,” I said, still sitting there naked, her juices and my sperm drying on my dick. “There is no Debbie.”
“What?” she asked.
“There is no Debbie,” I repeated. “I made that up as an excuse to come over here. I’ve also had sex before, several times. Couldn’t you tell while I was making love to you?”
She looked confused. “I did think you were doing it rather well for a teenager,” she admitted. “But why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted you,” I told her. “Do you know that I lie in bed at night thinking about your body while I masturbate?”
“You do?”
“Yes,” I said. “Constantly. I’ve wanted you for such a long time now. And I’ve thought that maybe you were attracted to me a little, that maybe if I, you know, set it up right, you would maybe do things with me. I came over here hoping that what we did would happen. I tried to engineer it. It’s me you should be mad at. I lied to you. I was conniving. And I’m sorry you’re upset by what we did. You were more than I ever hoped for.”
“I was?” she asked, her eyes shining.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Can you ever forgive me for tricking you like that?”
“Of course, Billy,” she said. “But I still shouldn’t have done that. Do you understand how serious this is? I can be arrested for what we did.”
“I’ll never tell anyone,” I told her. “I swear.”
She smiled a little, wiping her face. “Fifteen year olds swear lots of things,” she told me. “And they very rarely understand the consequences of breaking those swears.”
“Anita,” I said, “I’m not an ordinary fifteen year old. I do think about consequences. I think about them obsessively. Would you like to hear an example of how I think about them?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“While I was over here earlier I was already planning this episode. But I was worried about the possibility of getting you pregnant. I did not want to do that. So I looked in your medicine cabinet to make sure you were on birth control of some type. I was looking for a diaphragm case or birth control pills. Only when I found your pills and assured myself that you were current on them did I decide to come over here tonight.”
“You did that?” she asked, staring at me, giving me The Look.
“You are currently eight days from your period,” I told her.
“My God,” she said, looking at me with confused respect.
“Does that sound like a typical teenager to you? I like to think things through before I do them, eliminate all of the possible dangers I can. So what would I have to gain by telling anyone this? A few minutes of celebrity if I told the story, which my friends wouldn’t believe anyway, they would only pretend to. That certainly does not balance out the loss of you as a friend.” I leered at her. “A very special friend.”
“Wow,” she whispered, staring at me. “I don’t know what to say. This is the most confusing moment of my life.”
“I’m sure it is,” I told her. “But did you enjoy what we did?”
“Well…” she started.
“Did you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Immensely.” She blushed again. “I’ve laid awake at night masturbating while thinking about you. But I never thought for a minute that we’d actually, you know.” She shook her head. “You are a sneaky little bastard, you know that? You played right into one of my fantasies, almost word for word.”
“I’m pretty perceptive they say.”
“I’ll say.”
“So why don’t we mark it down as a pleasant experience for all concerned?” I asked her. “I enjoyed making love to you, you enjoyed making love to me. Both of us had fantasies fulfilled. I will never tell anyone about it. Nobody even knows where I am tonight. What we did will remain secret forever. I promise.”
“Okay.” She nodded, smiling again now. “But we shouldn’t do this anymore,” she said sternly. “It’s still wrong.”
“If you wish,” I agreed sadly.
“I think that would be for the best.”
“All right.” I paused. “But is it still okay for me to baby-sit on Saturday? I’d hate to disappoint Tracy.”
“Oh sure,” she said. “Perfectly all right.”
“Good.” I stood up. “Is it okay if I use your shower before I go home?”
“My shower?”
“Yes,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to go home smelling like sex. That leads to unwanted questions from parents.”
She looked at me for a moment, shaking her head in amusement. “Very good thinking, Billy,” she told me. “You know where it’s at.”
“Thanks,” I replied, picking up my clothes.
I made it about ten steps towards her bedroom before her voice called me. I turned to look at her. She was standing up, her robe was flapping loosely, allowing me to see her breasts and her bush again. I felt my penis give a little twitch.
“Maybe I should go with you,” she offered, smiling sexily. “Just to make sure you get nice and clean.”
My dick took a bigger lurch. “By all means.”
The next day at school, nothing terribly eventful happened. I turned in all of my completed homework to some very surprised teachers and, having done that, they began to truly notice me for the first time. They began to call on me in class, seemingly pleased when I supplied them with correct answers to their inquiries. In the classes where I’d already made my new self known, things mellowed out. Mrs. Crookshank asked me occasional questions on various anatomical topics but there was no longer a sense of challenge in them. She stayed confined to the current subject at hand and called on me no more than she did the other favorites in her class. The disinterested students like my former self, she continued to ignore. My history teacher on the other hand, seemed almost afraid of me. She didn’t call on me a single time but eyed me nervously whenever she was discussing a controversial topic about the Civil War that was being scaled down into black and white, good and evil for the ’tender young minds’ she was instructing. I know she was expecting me to pop up with another mini-lecture to counter hers. But I kept my peace, remaining in my seat quietly, mostly lost in my own thoughts, knowing that there was nothing that she was going to teach me about history.
That night was Friday night; the night that Mike’s parents allowed him to use the car. He told them we were just going to drive around downtown; cruising he called it. It was, I remembered, the same thing he told them every weekend and every weekend they bought it. What we actually did was drive to a secluded park near the falls where a kegger was being held. For two bucks a head you could drink all the beer you wanted.
The night was brisk, as it always is in eastern Washington in late February, but the good weather was holding. The stars were out and a full moon hung in the sky, providing scant illumination to the darkened family picnic area. The atmosphere was festive as we arrived, paid our money, and filled our first plastic cups with ice-cold beer from the tap. Kids ranging in age from fourteen to eighteen were everywhere, lounging near cars, sitting on the picnic tables in groups of three, four, eight. Music blared from at least ten different car stereos and at least five different boom boxes, most of it conflicting with each other.
I took a moment to stare at the falls, watching the white, foamy churning of God knew how many millions of gallons of water rushing over the cliff. I could hear the roar of them even over the car stereos. It wasn’t very far from this spot where Tracy had an appointment with destiny. An appointment I sincerely believed I’d cancelled. I took a drink of beer in her honor and then joined the party.
I drank beer after beer, getting pleasantly buzzed. I took a few hits off of joints or pipes that were passed my way, increasing the buzz to blissful intoxication. I listened to the conversations around me, which, admittedly, were not terribly stimulating. The talk was of rock bands, cars, drug experiences, fights, who was a bitch, who wasn’t. It was peppered with unnecessary profanity, particularly the word ‘fuck’, which was the favored modifier among this age group.
It was less than an hour before a girl named Stephanie found me. She was skinny and bleached blonde, but attractive. She was also a junior and nearly two years older than I was. She chatted with me for few minutes and then brought up the subject that had led her to me.
“I heard you and Debbie got a thing goin’?” she asked, taking a drag off her cigarette. “Is that true?”
“No,” I answered. “She’s just a friend of mine.”
“A friend?” She giggled. “I heard you were more than friends. I heard she threw herself at you over at Raisin’s house the other day.”
“Who’d you hear that from?” I asked, sipping from my latest beer.
“Lonnie,” she said. “He said you were pretty smooth about it too.”
I smiled at her, staring into her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “Debbie and I flirted a little but nothing more than that. You know how rumors are around here.”
“Yeah,” she said, tossing down her smoke and crushing it under the toe of her tennis shoe. “I do. Some people just can’t keep their mouths shut about things.”
“Yep,” I agreed. “But some people can.”
Less than an hour later we were ’taking a little walk’ into the wooded area around the park. We sat against a tree, watching the falls, the sound of the party distant in our ears. We started kissing, which led to my hands beneath her jacket and sweater, which led to me taking off her pants and eating her pussy on the cold, damp ground. I pulled two orgasms from her and then extricated a condom from my pocket. A minute later my pants were off, my dick was capped, and I was thrusting within yet another tight, teenaged pussy. Afterward we returned to the party, walking together as friends out for a nature walk, the discarded condom marking the spot of our indiscretion.
“Where have you been?” Mike, who was quite fucked up, asked me when I rejoined him.
“Oh,” I said casually, “I was bullshittin’ with some of the guys over there.”
“Oh.” He nodded, and then went back to his graphic description of the time he’d bagged a girl and her sister at a similar kegger party. The rest of the guys listened respectfully to his tale. They then tried to top it.
I took a moment to be nervous about driving home with Mike as we twisted and turned along the levy road at high speed. I had no seat belt on - it simply wasn’t done back then - and I was thrown from side to side as he drunkenly hit 20mph curves at around forty-five or so. But I took comfort in the fact that I’d done this dozens of times in my previous life without a second thought and nothing had happened then. I already knew that I was scheduled to live to at least thirty-two. In a way I was kind of immortal, wasn’t I? Well maybe not immortal, but at least invulnerable.
I was cheered by this thought as we went on our way at 11:30 that night (we were both required to be home by midnight). That made being tossed from side to side by centrifugal force kind of fun. Even when the back end of the car slid a little on a sharp curve, bringing us dangerously close to the edge, I didn’t get an adrenaline rush. I simply cheered Mike’s skill with the car and asked him if he had any more weed on him.
________________________________________
Saturday was a good day. I woke up only slightly hung over from the beer, knowing if I’d drank as much as I had the previous night as an adult I would have been nearly incapacitated the next day. God, youth was great.
It was shortly after the breakfast dishes were washed and put away (my parents had no dishwasher, an appliance they would not acquire until shortly before I moved out) when the telephone rang. Tracy answered it.
“It’s for you, Bill,” she told me, being very polite for Tracy. A cynical part of me informed me it was simply because I was doing a favor for her tonight and she wanted to stay on my good side. But a more hopeful part wondered if she was simply calming her attitude towards me a little.
“Hello?” I said, expecting it to be Mike.
It wasn’t. It was Debbie. “Hi, Bill,” she said. “How you doin’?”
“How’d you get my number?” I asked her, knowing I hadn’t given it to her.
“Oh, I’ve got my sources,” she said mysteriously. She then got right to the point. “My parents and my sister are going out of town for the day.” A brief pause. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to, you know, come over?”
“To your house?” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” she said. “If you’re not doing anything else that is.”
“Nothing planned,” I told her, a smile forming on my face. “What time should I be there?”
I used my charms on Mom to score a few bucks off of her, though I had to endure one of her lectures as the price. Soon I was heading out the door. I stopped at a convenience store and bought another package of condoms. Twenty minutes after that I was in Debbie’s house.
We didn’t bother much with preliminaries. Less than ten minutes after my arrival we were in her bedroom stripping off our clothes. She begged me to eat her again like I had at Raisin’s house and I teased her a little, saying I didn’t want to break the law or anything. Finally I buried my face between those thighs and went to town. I then fucked her, after donning a condom of course. I then taught her the finer points of giving a blowjob, stopping her before I actually came in her mouth because I wanted to fuck her again. I showed her the female superior position and she caught on quickly, finding that if she rubbed herself in a certain way, she could bring herself off.
“See,” I told her, after I’d finally blown my second load into the condom, “you can do that with any guy and you don’t have to rely on his skill in order to get yourself off. As long as you can keep him from coming for the length of time it takes you to rub yourself to orgasm on his cock, you can be satisfied.”
Her naked, sweaty body was collapsed across mine, her ample tits pushing into my chest. My hand was idly stroking her firm ass. “But how,” she asked, “do I keep them from coming? I haven’t done it with many people besides you, but every time I have, the guy comes in less than a minute or so.”
“Suck him off first,” I advised her, knowing I was making some future lover very happy. “Use those tricks I taught you when you were sucking me. Take the load and then demand he eat your pussy. Tell him he gets nothing else if he doesn’t return the favor.”
“Wow,” she whispered, her tongue licking at the sweat on my neck.
“While he eats you,” I continued, feeling myself stirring again already. God the wonders of youth! “He’ll get hard again, but it will take him longer to come since he’ll have just done it. You should be able to keep him active long enough to give yourself a good come.” I patted her ass, rolling her over and beginning to kiss her again. “Because that’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, thrusting her tongue at me.
I went home mid-afternoon and fell fast asleep. My balls were aching in a very pleasant way, the way that tells you they were happily overused. I’d taken a shower before leaving Debbie’s house so I had little to do before my babysitting assignment that night. When I awoke I only had to put on fresh clothes, comb my hair and, of course, brush my teeth, expunging my mouth of the smell of teenaged pussy.
As I headed out the door Tracy was getting ready for her party. She was dressed in her tightest pair of jeans and a form-fitting sweater. She smiled as I went by.
“Heading to Anita’s?” she asked.
“Yep.” I nodded. “Have a good time tonight.”
“I will,” she said. “And thanks again.”
“Anytime, Trace,” I replied, heading downstairs. “Anytime at all.”
________________________________________
Anita was dressed in a red dress that showed off her natural attributes-her tits-nicely. Her chunky legs were covered with dark pantyhose. She saw me looking as I entered her house and blushed a little.
“You look very nice,” I told her lecherously. “Are you sure you want to go to this party tonight?”
She giggled like a teenager. “My presence is quite expected,” she told me. “Besides, the kids are awake anyway.”
I nodded. “Of course,” I said, and turned to the kids, who were playing on the floor with a collection of toy cars. They saw me and squealed, heading for me.
“But sometimes,” Anita said thoughtfully, “a girl gets a little ill and has to come home early; say around nine o’clock.”
“Really?” I asked, smiling, wondering if my dick could perform after my earlier session with Debbie.
“Really,” she said and then turned to the kids. “Gimmee kisses,” she told them. “Mommy’s going bye-bye.”
She returned at ten after nine, just after the kids had been put to bed. After brief inquiries about their health and well-being, she walked over to me and took my hand. She traced her manicured nails over the back of it and then guided it under her dress, sliding it along over her nyloned thighs to the junction of her legs. I could feel dampness and musty heat emanating from her crotch.
“Do you feel how wet I am?” she asked, grinding her thighs together, pulling on my wrist to put pressure on her sensitive regions.
“Yeah,” I said, my mouth drying a little.
“That’s from thinking about you and all the things I’m going to do to you tonight,” she told me.
“Cool,” I gasped.
“Why don’t you take these pantyhose off me?” she asked, kicking off her shoes. “I could use a little air.”
I kneeled before her and pulled off her pantyhose, as requested, and, while she stood there before me, she threw the hem of her dress over my head. Her bare legs and crotch were directly before my face, the silky material of her dress billowing over my back. The smell under there was rich with musk; her pussy lips were oozing moisture. She widened her stance a little, spreading her legs and bringing her pussy near my mouth. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled it forward, into her wetness.
I ate her to orgasm as she stood there, though her knees became quite wobbly as she came and she had to hold onto my shoulders for support. She then pushed me to my back on the floor and pulled my shoes from my feet and my pants and underwear from my body. She spread her dress around my hips and lowered herself onto my straining, very erect cock. Slowly she sank down upon me, engulfing me in her wet snatch and then pumping her hips up and down.
I must say that she gave me one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, before or after recycling. I wondered why her husband had divorced her. He couldn’t have found someone better in bed. Better looking maybe, but not better in the sack.
I staggered home about ten-thirty that night and fell immediately into bed. My crotch was throbbing with the beat of my heart and my dick had a raw, used feeling to it. I had a smile on my face as I fell into sleep, thanking God for Mr. Li and for the fact that I hadn’t been in a jovial mood that night and wished I was an Oscar Meyer wiener or something. Never in my life had I had so much sex in so short a period of time. And with three different girls too! My last thought was what tomorrow would bring.
It didn’t bring much. My body was aching and sore. Since it was Sunday, the Lord’s Day after all, I spent the entire 24-hour period without leaving the house. It was a day of rest. There was school tomorrow.
________________________________________
The poor weather returned for Monday’s walk to school. The temperature was in the thirties, the sky was cloudy and spat intermittent flurries of snow down upon Mike and I as we walked to school. Mike was telling me what a great kegger it had been on Friday and that I should have gone to the one on Saturday night as well.
“I’m tellin’ you man, there was bitches everywhere,” he proclaimed.
“Yeah?” I replied, brushing a snowflake out of my eye and pulling my hood tighter against the cutting wind.
“Fuck yeah,” he said. “I met this bitch from Spokane High and we got all fucked up together. After a while we went off to the trees and she gave me a fuckin’ blow job.”
“A blow job huh?” I asked, as if interested, wondering if Mike had ever really been laid at all.
“Yeah,” he leered. “She could suck-start a Harley, I’m tellin’ you. You shoulda come. I bet you coulda got laid too.”
“I’m waiting for Miss Right,” I told him.
He looked at me strangely for a moment and then, finally figuring it was a joke, started laughing.
I didn’t laugh back and we walked on in silence. Mike bothered me. I knew the path that he was on but every attempt I made to even talk about steering him off it had failed. I wanted to help him, to keep him from ending up a 33 year old loser living with his parents and never having held a job for more than a year in his life. Didn’t he want to marry, have children, raise a family? Didn’t he want what everyone else in the world did? Surely the life he would end up with was not what he desired, was it? But I had no idea how to even begin to steer him. His façade was of the tough, independent person, streetwise, never needing advice or help from anyone. How could you reach such a person? Especially when they’d spent their entire life as the superior member of the friendship. I was clueless and hoping that some answer would come to me. But the answer, for the moment, eluded me.
“Well look who’s back,” Mike said as we approached the school….
ok bros… gotta go zzzz… update later…
Bro, more more more……..
This is a very nice story.. please don’t stop!
Actually, the sex part is not really interesting, but it is on how he get his dick into other gals pussy..
I looked where he was indicating and saw Richie Fairview standing with his cronies in their accustomed spot near the bike racks. The same spot where I’d engineered his downfall and his trip to the hospital. Even from this distance I could see he had a bandage on his nose. Though he had a heavy coat on I was reasonably sure his chest was taped up beneath it. I’d felt a definite crunch when I’d kicked him the other day.
“Well well,” I smiled, already turning that way.
“You gonna fuck him up again?” Mike asked, a little fear in his voice, but not as much as before.
“Only if he wants to go the hard way,” I said, heading directly for him.
You have to understand that Richie was more than just Richie to me. He was the epitome of bullies, the sum of all large, stupid aggressors who had picked on me since grammar school. He encompassed bullies who would pick on me after Richie would eventually graduate or drop out or whatever. As a shy, easily malleable kid I’d been easy fodder for them throughout my school years. And they had left an impression that was deeper than I’d realized until I’d seen Richie on my first day back. Richie represented all bullies who had ever said an unkind word or had laid an unjust hand upon me. By besting him at his own game, I was besting demons that had helped shape my previous life. I intended to make him suffer, to bring him down as far as I could, to expose the lie that all bullies represented; that they were gods, unchallengeable.
His friends tittered nervously as I approached, whispering some things to him, him nervously whispering some things back. The very fact that he was standing at the head of them despite his earlier defeat told me a lot. He’d undoubtedly told them he was going to repay me for the sneak attack on him the first time. They were anxiously awaiting his revenge. I was pretty sure there would be no revenge. The Richies of the world don’t generally think things through very carefully.
“Hey, dickwad!” I yelled directly at him when I was close enough. “How was the hospital?”
“Fuck you, motherfucker!” he yelled, taking a few steps closer; again telling me volumes about his intentions. Had he been meaning to fight me, he would have waded right in. But he didn’t. He took a few steps towards me, obviously hoping I’d cower and back down. When I didn’t (and why he thought I would, after our last encounter is a mystery to me), he slowed down, his mind re-evaluating what his strategy was. In that moment I knew I’d won the confrontation.
“That’s some pretty insulting shit you’re talking,” I told him conversationally, walking closer. “I suppose you think your friends here are impressed by it.” I shook my head sadly. “They’re not. Talk is cheap, faggot, action is where it’s at. If you wanna impress your friends and restore your reputation as a badass you’re simply gonna have to kick my ass. Isn’t that what you told them you were gonna do?”
“I am gonna kick your fuckin’ ass!” he roared, taking a tentative step forward.
I laughed. “Are you now? Well go ahead and do it.” I made a ‘come-on’ gesture with my fingers. “Kick my ass. Let’s see you do it.”
He stood still, his face fuming, infuriated with shame and anger. He wanted to, that was obvious, but he also remembered what had happened last time.
“I’m waiting,” I said impatiently. “When are you gonna kick my ass? It’s sitting here right in front of you. Start kicking.”
He remained motionless, his body trembling with rage, rage I was oh so pleased to see. This was even more satisfying than besting him in the first place. “Yeah,” he finally said. “So you can rat me out and have me arrested or something.”
“Oh please,” I scoffed. “Having someone rat you out never bothered you before. Why don’t you just admit it? You’re scared of me. You wouldn’t take a swing at me if I dropped my hands and closed my eyes, would you? It hurts to get the shit kicked out of you, doesn’t it? It’s an experience you don’t care to repeat, is it? You know that if you take a swing at me, or make any move at all towards me, you’re gonna be riding in an ambulance again, don’t you?”
“Fuck you!” he yelled, near tears now, on the brink of collapse.
I shook my head again. His friends were staring at him, nervous fear in their faces.
I spat, the wad landing on his shoe. “You fuckin’ disgust me,” I told him. “If you want to fight you come and find me and we’ll have ourselves a fight. But keep in mind, that if you start any of your ‘fuck you’ and ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ bullshit with me again, I’m not gonna be so generous. Like I said, talk is cheap. If you want some action, look me up. If you don’t want some action, keep your fuckin’ mouth closed when you see me.”
I turned my back to him and walked into the school, Mike in tow. I knew I had nothing to fear by turning my back to him. I knew it.
________________________________________
Lunchtime. In my previous life I’d always eaten pretty much alone since Mike had a different lunch schedule than I. But now I found myself the center of some attention. People kept coming up to me, just wanting to talk about this and that. I was becoming popular I realized, not sure I liked it. And again, I was 32 years old, not fifteen. The conversation I was offered was not terribly stimulating.
After only five minutes the combination of the cold and the endless litany of pussy stories, car stories, or drug stories drove me inside to the cafeteria. The cafeteria was the domain of the preppie students, those college bound overachievers. The air was warm and scented with the aroma of spaghetti. It was filled with the babble of conversations and the clanking of plastic trays on simulated wood grain tables.
I stood near the doorway surveying the scene, seeing the gathering of cliques at various tables, trying to find a place to sit down. Many of the students in there were those who were in my classes. They’d always ignored me since I wasn’t quite one of them and I had no desire to strike up friendships with them now. With burrito and soda in hand I scanned around the room and finally locked onto a solitary figure sitting by herself near the back of the room.
It was Nina Blackmore, the future emergency room doctor. Like always, she was by herself, eating out of her tray and reading a book. Nina, in addition to being a high school classmate, had been a junior high and grammar school classmate as well. She’d appeared at our school when I was in the third grade, a new student from somewhere or other. That, in combination with a lisp she’d had at the time had doomed her to the role of unpopularity. She’d been the butt of jokes since forever, although they’d been particularly bad in grammar school. Third, fourth, and fifth graders can be unusually cruel to kids who were somewhat different.
I myself was as guilty of this as everyone else. I’d done my time chanting teasing rhymes at her back then, deriding her, calling her ugly, making fun of her lisp in as cruel ways as fourth grade minds could conceive. Though she’d gone to speech therapy until well into junior high and lisped no more, the damage was done to her. She was an outsider, belonging to no clique, doomed to be by herself until probably college where she would show up the vast majority of her classmates by working her way into a 130 thousand dollar a year job.
But even then the mark of her school years would be forever upon her. I would know her as a paramedic, would frequently transport patients to the emergency room where she was employed. She would have a reputation as a cold hearted, vindictive bitch among the paramedics and nurses she dealt with. She was the kind of doctor who would question a paramedic or RN’s every decision, no matter what the outcome of the patient. And she’d always reserved her most scathing comments for me. I’d always known this was because I’d gone to school with her and had once, in grammar school, been one of her tormentors.
A typical example of her wrath is something that occurred nearly a year before my recycling, on a frigid January day. I’d been dispatched to a call for a child with seizures in a middle-class section of the city. Child seizure calls are generally nothing that gets paramedics terribly excited. Usually the child either has a history of seizures or is having them because of a high fever. Seizures are not usually life threatening.
However, when I walked into the house that day with my partner and the crew from a Spokane Fire Department engine company, I took one look at the kid in question and knew I was dealing with something more than a seizure call. The kid, who looked to be about ten years old, was lying on the carpet near the sofa. His skin was blue, as blue as a police uniform, and he was not breathing. His eyes were vacant, staring into space, bugging out. He was lying still.
There was a brief second of pause while we all clicked into this-is-really-an-emergency mode. And then every eye in the room turned to me-the paramedic, the person in charge of this mess-waiting for me to tell them what to do.
“Start bagging him,” I barked to one of the firefighters and she rushed into action, opening their bag and pulled out the equipment.
I kneeled down next to the kid and felt for a carotid pulse. It was there, but it was weak and very slow. What the hell was going on? I’d wondered, trying to think. Ten year olds did not just suddenly collapse and die from a seizure. There was something I was missing.