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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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The Making Of A Cocksman
by Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

***

Bobby earned a reputation for going only as far as a 
curious girl wanted to go, and it served him well. Then 
his sister and her friends entered the full blush of 
puberty and got... curious. To Bobby's constant 
surprise, it turned out that being a cocksman was a lot 
harder than he thought it would be. (mf-teens, youths, 
voy, inc, 1st, cheat, group, rom, preg)

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A reader, wrote to me about a story and 
said the following:

"Good fortune that befell me at age 16. If those gals 
had known what kind of novice I really was, I might not 
have been laid for another 2 years. My sister thought I 
was a real stud and had really been wanting me to do 
her, and I was right on the verge anyway. The girls 
liked me but my sister was a leader and really sold 
them on me. I became a coxman in the next 2 years."


That simple paragraph, true or not, led to the 
following story. 

Bob

***


Have you ever thought about the word "Slut"? It's an 
interesting word, usually meaning a girl or woman who 
has sex with multiple men on a more or less casual 
basis. Right? But what do they call a guy who has sex 
as often as he can with multiple girls or women?

You don't call him a slut. Not even sluts call him a 
slut. It's an interesting philosophical question to 
some. Humor me for a few paragraphs to explore that 
philosophical question, and then I'll get to the part 
of the story you're actually looking for. 

The fancy name is Gigolo, but that infers that he fucks 
for money... that he's a male prostitute, and while you 
could make an argument that all prostitutes are sluts, 
you can't go the other way.

I even did some very unscientific research about what 
guys like that are called, but all I came up with was 
"cocksman" (alternatively spelled coxman) and "sex 
machine". In other words, I didn't find much. 

Anyway, whatever you call guys who do that, I'm one of 
them. 

Now I know there are some of you out there who are 
saying "Shame, shame!" But you have to understand 
something. And here it is: 

There has probably never been a time when a girl was 
sitting around playing with her dollies and thought to 
herself, "I'm going to grow up and be a slut!"

And, I doubt seriously if most boys are climbing a tree 
one day and think, "I'm going to fuck as many girls as 
I possibly can when my peter will actually squirt 
stuff." 

You might notice that I used the word "never" with the 
girls and "doubt seriously" with the boys. Isn't it 
interesting that one is more definitive than the other? 
Both are conditional statements, but lets face it, it's 
more likely that a guy will try to spread his seed far 
and wide, than it is for a girl to accept seed from a 
variety of sources. It's worth thinking about that if a 
girl does it though, she's called a slut, and that's 
not a complimentary title. But if I guy does it, he's 
called a sex machine, or maybe a cocksman, both of 
which suggest he might be proud of himself. And, it 
follows that most men would LIKE to be cocksmen, but 
not all that many are.

So, understanding that - and I admit it's open for 
argument - the question that bubbles to the top of the 
mind is: What is it that tips the balance for a guy to 
make him a cocksman?

I can think of arguments based on Biology, and 
arguments based on Culture and arguments based on 
Evolution. But before we get too deep and you all quit 
reading, let me just tell you the story of how I became 
a sex machine. Then you can decide which argument might 
explain me.

Let me throw a wrench in the works from the very start 
by saying it was an accident.

I was a normal, ordinary, every day sixteen year old 
boy, growing up in a smallish town in middle America. 
It wasn't the Bible Belt, but it wasn't far from that 
either. It was in the middle sixties, but I wasn't 
tuned in to the "Love Generation" or any of that Hippie 
stuff, and neither were any of the girls I'm going to 
tell you about.

I had a mom and a dad, and a sister named Claire. I 
also had a mutt named Buddy, who I probably loved more 
than the others simply because Buddy always loved me, 
no matter what kind of trouble I got into. I couldn't 
afford a car, but had access to my Dad's 1966 Chevy 
Malibu for dates and to cruise the highway between 
Junctionville, where we lived and Derby, eleven miles 
down the road. Most all of us kids participated in that 
little rite, on a more or less regular basis, going 
from the A&W Root beer place in "Junktown", to the 
Dairy Queen in Derby. And back, of course. Gas was 
twenty cents a gallon in those days and you could 
cruise the strip all night for a buck.

I took a lot of girls on that trip and, though I had an 
interest in necking, I never pushed it. The girls 
appreciated that too, which was the whole point. I got 
a reputation for being "safe", which encouraged most 
girls to accept an invitation to drag the strip.

It also encouraged them to experiment a little, since 
they all knew I'd stop whenever they said stop. That 
led to a lot of hot kisses and quite a bit of stroking 
breasts and a ton of heavy breathing.

Now girls talk about boys whenever they get together, 
so my name got mentioned a lot, even when Claire was in 
the group. Not every guy got the stamp of excellence 
during these talks. From what I understand, the talk 
would usually start out something like 

"I had to fight Jimmy Johnson off with a stick last 
night. That boy has more than two hands, I'll tell you 
that!" 

And from there they'd all complain about whatever boy 
had tried to do this, or begged them to do that and so 
on. Then, comparisons would begin, about which boy was 
more dangerous than the rest. This had nothing to do 
with how cute the boy was. That was a separate issue. 
They might all agree that Joe Bob was the cutest boy in 
town, and all swear they'd never ever let him get them 
alone, all in the same sentence. And, inevitably, so I 
was later told, my name would come up and there would 
be sighs all around. It wasn't because I was cute, or a 
football star. It was because I had tweaked nipples so 
nice and then quit when told to. 

And, of course, girls lie just like boys, particularly 
about how far they've been. You can tell when a girl 
lies, because they say they did something, but not who 
with. If it's the truth they give credit where credit 
is due, or blame, as the case may be.

So, whenever my name came up around Claire, all she 
ever heard about me was good things, and about how nice 
things felt when I did them, and how it wasn't scary at 
all. And Claire decided, somehow, that I was some kind 
of legend, who knew everything there was to know about 
sex.

But the fact was that I was a virgin. I knew quite a 
bit about tweaking nipples and was a pretty good 
kisser, but that was about it. I'd never had the 
courage to put my hand below the belt, and no girl had 
ever spread her legs and yelled, "Rub my pussy Bobby! 
I'm on fire!"

Claire had what she called her posse, which was a group 
of five girls who hung around together almost all the 
time. She was the Sheriff and when they were together 
it showed. She bossed those girls something terrible 
and they fell in line like ducks after their momma. 
They were all fourteen and just entering what's 
sometimes called the blush of womanhood. 

I'd known them all since we were little, and to them I 
was just like a piece of furniture. True, I had sharp 
corners, so to speak, that they bumped into once in a 
while, and I was dented and scratched a little as a 
result, but I wouldn't have been surprised at all if 
one of them came into the living room and sat down on 
me not knowing I was even there.

That all changed when Clair and the posse turned 
fifteen. All of a sudden Claire was allowed to date.

Well, that put a shock into the posse. None of them had 
been allowed to go on real dates until they were 
fifteen. And even then there was a lot of scrutiny by 
parents concerning who they went out with. Claire had 
bribed me a time or two to take the whole bunch out to 
drag the strip with me. 

Have you ever been in a 1966 Malibu with six chattering 
teenaged girls? It was kind of fun in some ways. first 
of all it was crowded. They crammed four in the back, 
and two more up front with me on the bench seat, which 
meant one of them had to either almost sit on top of 
the other, or straddle the Hurst floor shifter. They 
talked like I wasn't there and it was hilarious to hear 
them tell about sneaking out and first kisses and all 
that stuff. Some of them had older sisters who had been 
out with me too, and they'd heard all about what fun 
girls had with me on dates. They didn't know the 
details - they just knew that the girls all liked going 
out with Bobby.

But of course, other than dragging the strip as a 
group, they didn't want to go out with ME. I was 
Claire's brother, and I farted when they were around, 
and drank a whole bottle of Coke just so I could try 
and perform the alphabet in one long burp and all that 
normal kind of thing boys did at age eleven and twelve. 
Of course by the time I took them down the strip, I was 
almost seventeen and they were fifteen, which made me 
an old man to them. They went to the Junior High 
School, and I was Junior IN High School.

I also had nicknames for them all that they pretty much 
didn't appreciate.

Claire was "Claire Bear", because sometimes she was a 
bear to be around. Of them all she was probably the 
second best looking, with shoulder length brown hair 
and dark eyes, and a really beautiful smile. She smiled 
a lot too. Life was fun for Claire. Her breasts didn't 
look that big usually, but when she wore a tight shirt, 
or something that showed a little cleavage, she got the 
attention of the boys. Her breasts had changed shape 
too. 

The last time I saw her without a top on they were like 
cones, with round points. Her nipples were flat and 
small, and she could have gone braless and nobody would 
be able to tell. Now they had gotten a lot rounder or 
more full or something. I could tell by the shape 
through her clothes, unless it was the bra that was 
making her look bigger. 

Suzy Rumbell was "Loosey Suzy" because she always wore 
big oversized shirts. That was because she never wore a 
bra. She didn't have much up top and didn't need a bra, 
except she had nipples that poked out of everything she 
wore.

Then there was Monique Haskins. I called her Unique 
Monique because she was the only girl I knew who looked 
like she did. She had ass length dark hair that was 
almost blue it was so black, with dark skin, like she 
tanned all the time. Her lips were almost fat they were 
so full, but they didn't look fat. She was the first of 
the posse to develop breasts and they just kept 
growing. Now they were big and looked soft.

The best looking one of the bunch was Margaret 
Williams. she had short straight blond hair that framed 
her face, which had high cheekbones and big green eyes. 
Her nose was what they call a button nose and she had a 
smile even more beautiful than Claire's. She was slim 
everywhere except her chest. She looked like she might 
fall over if she wasn't careful, because her center of 
balance was so high. That was offset by a butt that she 
kept confined in tight jeans. It was round and stuck 
out in the back like her tits stuck out in the front. 
Every guy in school dreamed of sucking on her titties 
and feeling that ass. I called her Large Marge. 

Donna Miles was the one I understood least. I called 
her Miss September, because she reminded me of the 
Playboy Bunny from that month when I was fifteen, whose 
name was also Donna. She was really tall with long dark 
red hair that she almost always kept draped across her 
chest. She played with it all the time. I later found 
out she thought her breasts were ugly and covered them 
up with her hair. She had the potential to put the rest 
of them to shame, with a perfectly proportioned body 
that was an hour glass shape. 

Last was the one I liked the best, at least up until 
the time when this story took place. She was Roberta 
Simms and I called her Knobby Robby. She was a tomboy, 
and liked the same things I liked when we were growing 
up. She could run as fast as me, and climb as good as 
me and all that stuff. She was all knees and elbows and 
gawky, flat-chested well into her fourteenth year and 
even now only had small conical breasts, like Claire's 
had been before they filled out. She was just behind 
the others in physical development. But she treated me 
better than the others, which means she didn't make as 
much fun of me. And, in the end, she would be true to 
that emotional style.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The accident happened while I was dragging the strip 
with a car full of giggling, screaming... embarrassing 
girls. 

See, somebody had to sit beside me, and as I mentioned 
earlier, if she didn't want to sit on top of whoever 
was in the suicide seat, she had to straddle the 
shifter. Now that shifter only had a three and a half 
inch throw, so it didn't move all that much, but for a 
girl, barely fifteen, to sit there with her legs 
spread, one of them touching mine, and have my hand 
moving around between her legs... well, it caused a 
sensation. When we were getting in the car I explained 
it to them, and there were squeals and chirps and 
sounds you wouldn't even think a human being could make 
as they argued about which one would be the "shifter 
slut". 

This was a new term to me. I'd never heard of a 
"shifter slut" before, but it made interesting images 
flash through my mind. That was the days when 
miniskirts were coming on board, much to the delight of 
us guys, and the thought of a girl in a miniskirt 
straddling that shifter made my dick stiff. Of course 
all these girls were wearing shorts, mostly cut-offs, 
but it was a nice little fantasy.

In the end Claire volunteered to be the shifter slut, 
since I was her brother and nobody would even think of 
accusing me of copping a feel of my own sister.

Right?

So, when they wanted me to do what mister nice 
policeman commonly called "an exhibition of speed" as 
we were dragging the strip, and my testosterone levels, 
already elevated by being around all that woman flesh, 
surged even higher, I decided to give them what they 
wanted.

I have to say here that Dad let me drive the Chevy 
because I took good care of it. It had a 357 in it, 
with posi-traction. My Dad had wanted one when he was a 
kid, but couldn't afford it, and when he found this one 
he lovingly rebuilt it just like his dream car back 
then. The station wagon was our "family car", which 
meant it was Mom's car, and it wasn't cool anyway. And 
Dad, bless his heart, understood what a young man felt 
when he drove that car. 

So, on pain of torture and death and being grounded for 
life if I so much as scratched it, he let me drive it. 
I knew I was lucky and didn't abuse things. Usually I 
didn't ever rod it. I'd get on it pretty good from time 
to time, to press some pretty little thing back into 
her seat and get her heart going, but that was about 
all. 

In other words, I wasn't used to power shifting.

So, when I crammed it from first to second, and my hand 
slipped off the T handle... it slapped Claire right on 
her money maker.

The engine screamed, now in neutral, and that got all 
my attention. Which meant my hand STAYED on the crotch 
of Claire's tight shorts, separated from her pussy by 
maybe two hundredths of an inch of terrycloth and 
polyester.

While I jerked my foot off the accelerator, Claire's 
surprised legs slammed closed, trapping my hand. By 
then, of course, my brain had registered where my hand 
was, and I was trying to pull it out. but Claire was a 
healthy young girl who played sports and had firm, well 
developed thigh muscles. So what happened was that I 
tugged, and went slack to tug again until, about the 
third time my hand basically stroked her pussy, her 
legs sprang back open and she yipped.

My hand came free, went back to the shifter, I put it 
in second and my exhibition of speed was put on 
indefinite hold.

It was an inglorious end to an attempt to impress a 
bunch of fifteen year old girls.

Well, truth be told, it DID impress two fifteen year 
old girls. It impressed Claire. But I didn't know it 
then. Then it was just an accident that I didn't want 
to talk about. It so happened that Unique Monique was 
sitting in the suicide seat, and saw the whole sordid 
affair. It impressed her too. She started laughing and 
laughed so hard that she couldn't tell the girls in the 
back what had happened. Claire started slapping at her, 
yelling for her to "Shut UP!" And, when Monique finally 
caught her breath Claire threatened her with terrible 
things if she opened her mouth.

Of course that got the four in the back all riled up 
and yelling and screaming about "What happened... what 
HAPPENED?" 

Claire was yelling "NEVER MIND." to them and "DON'T YOU 
SAY A WORD!" to Monique, and I knew things were going 
to get crazy in a minute.

So I accelerated to a hundred miles an hour and drove 
it that fast for a whole mile down route 64.

That did it. There was still screaming, but it was now 
about something completely different than the fact that 
I had just felt up my own sister's pussy. And, by the 
time I slowed down, which was only 36 seconds after I 
hit the 100 mark on the speedometer, there was a hush 
in the car as adrenaline flooded those young bodies and 
they concentrated on just breathing.

"Wow" said Claire. She was talking about a lot more 
than the speed, though I didn't know it then.

"Yeah, she's got some guts." I said in typical manly 
tones, trying to make them forget I'd muffed the 
shift... in more ways than one, now that I think about 
it.

Then I spent some time checking gauges and listening 
for bad sounds. I'd seen the tac climb into the red 
there for just a second while I was groping Claire 
Bear. But everything seemed to be OK, so I loafed along 
the rest of the way. 

No more exhibitions of speed that night. No sir.

We got back to Junk Town and they all piled out and 
Claire leaned over and kissed me on the cheek of all 
things! "Thanks" she said, and scrambled out after 
Monique. None of the rest of them thanked me. I was 
just furniture to them.

Now I just described that incident to the best of my 
memory, and in my memory I clearly remember Claire 
threatening Monique with dire consequences if she told 
the four in the back seat where my hand had been, 
albeit accidentally and only for five or six seconds.

So what does Claire do when they get back? She takes 
them all up to her room and then DESCRIBES IT in 
Technicolor, with details and sound effects, while 
Monique adds in even MORE details in her witness 
testimony. Only Claire embellished it "a little" and 
Monique went along with it!

Of course I wasn't there, but I heard about it later, 
from all six of them at one time or another, and the 
way SHE told it was nothing like it actually happened. 

According to Claire I grabbed her pussy and squeezed 
it, pressing my finger between her plump pussy lips, 
like I was trying to rip a hole in her terrycloth 
shorts. Then I rubbed hard, and my fingers scrabbled at 
her waistband, trying to slip inside, so I could get 
INSIDE her panties and touch her naked pussy! According 
to her, if it hadn't been for her panties she'd have 
lost her cherry in an instant to my probing hand. Then 
she WRESTLED my hand out from between her legs, making 
me understand that I was totally wrong to be doing this 
to her and exacting somehow, without words, a promise 
that I'd do her chores for a month in penance for my 
transgression.

That was when Large Marge reputedly said "Why'd you 
make him stop? I bet it felt good."

There were EEwwww's and shrieks and bedlam as Claire 
got all red in the face (they all agreed that she 
blushed furiously) and shouted that I was her BROTHER. 

Like they didn't know that or something.

Large Marge just said "I think you should have let him 
do it longer." and I guess the world, as we know it, 
came to an end or something. It was noisy, I'll tell 
you that.

Like I said, I wasn't there, though I could hear some 
of it in an undecipherable way. I was sitting 
downstairs watching (lusting after) Susan Dey playing 
Laurie on the Partridge Family. Marge apparently broke 
up the meeting of the posse, because they straggled 
out, under the impression that I had intentionally 
groped my sister, giving me decidedly odd looks. Marge 
must have meant what she said because she actually said 
"Good night Bobby." to me. Monique just laughed and 
they left together.

Claire didn't come down for another fifteen minutes, 
and when she did she was flushed and breathing hard. I 
didn't know enough about women to know what that meant 
back then. I found out what she'd been doing later. But 
I'll tell you that later, because what I DID notice was 
that she was awfully friendly to me, considering the 
social gaff that had occurred only some forty-five 
minutes earlier.

"What'cha watchin'?" she asked, though anybody could 
see what I was watching. Then she said "Oooo David 
Cassidy... he's so dreamy." and she plopped down BESIDE 
me on the couch to watch.

The first thing I noticed was her use of the word 
"dreamy", which had gone out of use when I was... like 
eleven or something. Then I noticed she was sitting 
beside me. Right beside me. On the couch. Where she had 
all the room in the world to get away from her cootie-
ridden brother.

This was something new. It's not like we fought all the 
time, but we rarely had anything in common when it came 
to routine run-of-the-mill daily activity type stuff. 
Like watching TV. If I liked it, she probably didn't, 
and if she was watching it I knew I'd rather read or 
something. 

What? You ask what she watched that I didn't find 
interesting? Well, I'd love to be able to tell you, 
cause then I wouldn't feel like the jerk I'm going to 
appear to be. I have no idea what she watched. I just 
assumed if she was interested in it, I wouldn't be. It 
was just the way we were.

Then I saw Claire's eyes dart toward my lap. Like I 
said, I'd been watching Susan Dey, with those slitty 
little eyes and that perfect face, and those tits that 
they always made her hide, but which couldn't be hidden 
from a boy's fantasy. She was a living Playboy model 
who just hadn't gotten old enough for Mister Hefner to 
hire yet, and you could peek into her life and see the 
routine run-of-the-mill daily activity type stuff she 
did every day. Whenever I watched that show I was in a 
constant state of rigidity.

So when Claire glanced at my lap, there was a rather 
obvious lump in it, right under my zipper.

So guys? What the hell do you do when you've got a 
boner, and your sister looks right at it? I didn't know 
what to do. So I blurted out "It's because of Laurie... 
not you."

Now doesn't that sound completely reasonable? I mean I 
was telling the truth, and since I had lately done 
something that the average girl might accidentally 
think I had done on purpose, I thought that would clear 
things up.

Turns out Claire was an average girl. A guy had grabbed 
her pussy and then rubbed his hand up and down while 
pressing it against said pussy. The fact that it was 
her own brother didn't seem to matter. Again, later, 
she explained to me that, with all the stories she'd 
heard about my talent with making girls feel so 
fabulous, she thought I was trying to demonstrate it to 
her and she was... get this... flattered!

And then she came in and sat down beside me and I 
demonstrated how cute I thought she was some more by 
developing a nice manly erection. That's right, while I 
was apologizing, in my uncouth male way, for having a 
boner that Susan Dey brought into the world, Claire 
assumed that my stiff dick was more demonstration of 
just how cute I thought she was! 

OK, Guys, here's some wisdom for you. I learned this 
the hard way - no pun intended. When you get a hard-on 
around a girl, and she notices it, she thinks she 
caused it. It doesn't matter what you're watching on 
TV. It doesn't matter that the hottest girl in school 
just bent over ten feet away to retie her saddle 
oxfords and you got a shot of panty. She's with you... 
you have a boner... she caused it. Period. It's female 
logic or something.

So, when you quite truthfully say, "Hey, that hot chick 
on TV got me hard as a rock.", she hears "Hey, you turn 
me on something fierce, but I can't admit it cause 
you're my sister, so I'm going to pretend it was that 
so-so looking girl on the boob tube."

"It's OK," said my sister. Imagine that. It was OK with 
my sister that I got a hard-on for Susan Dey.

OK, so now let's recap, to make sure you're getting 
this. My hand slipped off the T handle of my dad's 
shifter, and my hand accidentally slapped my sister's 
love nest. Accident. No question about it. Then I 
rubbed my sister's pussy. Her legs slammed closed and I 
couldn't get my hand out. Another accident. She didn't 
mean to do it, so it was an accident. Then she 
misinterpreted what had happened, thinking that, 
because I was a cocksman, I MEANT to rub her pussy 
because that's what I did with all the other girls. 
Purely an accidental misunderstanding of the situation.

So that's three accidents. And that doesn't count the 
accident of her walking in on me while I happened to be 
watching Susan Dey and had a boner, or her accidental 
assumption that SHE caused the boner and that I was too 
embarrassed to admit it. So now we have three-to-five 
accidents that have created a situation where I am 
thinking one thing and my sister is thinking entirely 
another.

So, when she got up an went to her room, I didn't think 
anything about it. I finished watching Susan Dey and 
then went to my own room. I had just gotten my hands on 
Heinlein's new book called "Stranger In A Strange Land" 
and I was hooked on it after only two chapters. It was 
close to bedtime, and I liked to fall asleep reading. I 
had better dreams when I did that.

So, when Claire stepped into my room and stood there 
silently, I didn't even notice her for a few minutes. I 
was lying on my back reading, in just my Fruit Of The 
Looms, which is what I slept in, when she cleared her 
throat. I glanced over and saw Claire, (one) wasn't 
supposed to come in my room without permission and 
(two) was dressed how SHE sleeps, which was in a T 
shirt and panties.

Claire stood there, in that T shirt and those powder 
blue panties, for all the world like she was completely 
dressed.

"Bobby?" she said. Her voice didn't sound nearly as 
confident as she looked.

"Interesting outfit," I commented.

"Don't make fun of me," she said automatically.

"Who says I'm making fun of you. It IS an interesting 
outfit. I'm a guy and you're a girl, and the guy part 
of me thinks that's a really interesting outfit."

"Even though you've seen me in it, or something like it 
a thousand times?" she asked.

"Claire Bear... what do you want?" I asked. Heinlein 
was calling me.

"Does it look sexy?" she asked.

"Claire, I'm your brother," I said unnecessarily. 
"Brothers don't usually think of their sisters as being 
sexy... or even not sexy."

"But if you weren't my brother, would you think I 
looked sexy?" Girls have a way of ignoring huge 
obstacles, and Claire was no different. She assumed 
that I could just forget she was my sister. I tried 
squinting my eyes so she blurred a little bit. Now she 
was more or less a feminine shape, but I lost so much 
definition that she just looked like she had on flesh 
colored pants or something.

Not being completely stupid, I opted to do the smart 
thing in this situation. "Yes, you're definitely sexy." 
I let my eyes go back to normal and, to my immense 
surprise, as she came into focus I really saw the 
things I'd been trying to imagine. Her legs were long 
and, of course, bare, and she had just enough spread in 
her hips to give her shape there before her lines swept 
back in to her slim, flat stomach. Then the T shirt 
bulged where her breasts were. I noticed nipples and 
was shocked.

"Are you BRALESS?!" I whispered as loud as I could... 
you know... to show I was shocked.

She blushed. "Yeah, does it look sexy?"

What was all this, "Do I look sexy" stuff, anyway? 
She's always primped and played with makeup and all 
that stuff, but it was more for other girls to see than 
boys. She hadn't been allowed to date, after all. I 
suppose she could have been showing herself off for 
boys at school, but it couldn't lead to anything. So 
why did she care? 

While I'd been thinking all this my eyes had gone on up 
to her hair, which was in a pony tail. I was rocked to 
my core as I realized she looked... fuckable! She DID! 
It was incredible. My baby sister looked enough like a 
woman that I contemplated her with some guy hunched 
over her, between her legs, pounding away as she made 
those sounds you heard on the occasional X-rated video 
tape that somebody snuck from home. I felt a tightness 
in my gut and realized two things that astounded me 
even more.

First, I didn't like the idea of that amorphous guy 
between her legs. Not at all. No matter how satisfied 
she sounded in my imagination.

And second... I had a boner.

And third, I was astounded to find out she'd been 
right! I COULD look at her as a female-other-than-my-
sister. That was what caused the boner.

Now I was in a quandary. My sister looked sexy. No 
doubt about that. My burgeoning prick was announcing it 
in a way that couldn't be missed. Even Claire wouldn't 
think I got a boner reading science fiction. It was 
obvious she WANTED me to think she looked sexy... but I 
wasn't at all sure how she'd react if I said she did 
and had a boner to prove I was telling the truth.

"You have a boner!" she gasped.

It wasn't the kind of gasp that told me what she 
thought about the fact that I had a boner. It could 
have been a gasp of disgust. I decided to try to take 
the safe road.

"Yeah. So what. Guys get them. Happens all the time." I 
wanted so bad to reach down and straighten out my cock, 
which was trying to poke up toward my face, but was 
caught in my shorts. All it could do was make this big 
lump.

"So does that mean I look sexy?" she asked. She took a 
step further into the room as she asked that damned 
question again.

I thought I might as well get it over with. "Yes, it 
means you look sexy. There! Are you satisfied? Though 
why in the world you'd want your brother to think you 
were sexy is beyond me." I tried to put it back on her.

She came two steps closer. I could see her better, and 
her nipples were prominent, like some of the girls had 
when they were all excited and I was playing with them. 
It made my dick even harder.

"When we were on the strip? And your hand went... 
there?" she stopped. I didn't know what to say. 

"Yeah?" That was pretty noncommittal, I thought.

"Was that on purpose?" she asked. I say she asked, but 
that doesn't convey the tone that was in her voice. It 
was crystal clear to me that the answer to this 
question was VERY important to her. My problem was that 
I didn't know if it was important GOOD... or important 
BAD. I thought furiously. The way she was dressed, 
combined with the way she wanted me to think she was 
sexy tipped the balance.

"No" I said. "It wasn't on purpose... and I'm sorry if 
it ticked you off... but it was kind of funny too. I 
guess what I'm saying is I hope you aren't mad about 
it."

"Nobody's ever touched me there before." she said, like 
that explained everything. It was quiet for a long 
minute and then she went on. "It made me feel all 
mooshy inside."

I knew what she meant. "Mooshy" was something I tried 
very hard to make girls feel as I played with them. I 
had succeeded on a number of occasions, but it hadn't 
gotten me laid yet. Still, for that brief contact to 
have brought out that response in her made my hormones 
rush. She had to be very highly sexed if those few rubs 
had turned her on. Still, she was pretty young, and 
probably just confused about things. Believe it or not, 
my moral compass kicked in.

"I wouldn't feel bad about that if I were you," I said 
sagely. "That's a pretty normal thing for a girl to 
feel when something like that happens. Don't worry 
about it. It'll go away."

"When the girls left I had to rub myself," she said 
plain as the nipples poking out of her T shirt.

Now THAT was interesting. I masturbated, of course. But 
my little sister? Who'd have thought it? I was 
astonished again. 

"I feel like rubbing myself again right now," she said. 
"And it's all your fault!" 

"How is it MY fault?!" I asked, incredulous. 

"Cause your hand felt good," she said. 

"But I'm your brother!" I stated the obvious with 
blinding clarity. 

"I know, and that's what makes me feel so weird about 
this. I liked it when my own brother touched my pussy. 
That makes me a pervert or something doesn't it?" She 
sounded like she wanted to be comforted. Then she 
dropped the bomb. "Did you like it? Touching me, I 
mean?" 

Now how does a guy answer a question like that? I mean 
she wasn't screaming at me or anything, so saying 
"Sure, I loved to feel your soft teen pussy under my 
hand. I wanted to squeeze it and slide a finger up in 
you." might not garner a scream for the Police. But I 
wasn't sure about that either. So I took the easy road, 
the road that worked with lots of girls. 

"Claire, you're a beautiful sexy girl. ANY guy would 
love to touch your pussy." I started out to deliver 
that line with all my acting skills, and then, to my 
surprise, found it didn't take any acting at all. She 
WAS a babe, and her pussy HAD felt soft and nice. 

Claire sat there for a long time, like she was 
thinking. She looked at me out of the corner of her 
eye, through a wisp of hair that was hanging down 
beside her face. 

"I know what you do with those girls," she said.

She had changed the subject and I didn't know how to 
respond. So I didn't.

"I mean I know some of it," she corrected herself. "I 
hear them talking sometimes. They don't talk about what 
you do when I'm there. But sometimes they don't know 
I'm listening."

OK, so she had real information. I still didn't say 
anything.

"They say they rub themselves after you've played with 
them." Claire looked straight at me now. "Like I did."

It was time to say something. "Claire, you're not those 
girls. They're older." It was the best I could come up 
with there in the Twilight Zone. I wasn't too clear 
headed.

"But I FELT like they say they feel when you touch 
them," she insisted.

"But you're my sister." I reminded her.

She got that look in her eye that I recognized as the 
danger look. She had that look when she was about to 
rat me out to Mom or Dad about something I'd done that 
she knew I'd get in trouble for. It was that "I'm going 
to make you pay" look.

"Which is why I can't understand why you look so hot to 
me right now." I added.

The fact that Claire was only fifteen saved my bacon. 
She bought that line like a little pig opening up the 
door when the wolf knocks. Not that I was the wolf or 
anything. I just wanted her to calm down and think 
straight. Which is why I was completely unprepared for 
what she said next.

"If I rubbed myself, would you rub yourself too? So I 
could see you?" She asked that like she was asking a 
doctor just exactly how long she had to live. She was 
afraid of the answer, but really wanted to know.

Do you remember those years when if a boy touched a 
girl she screamed about cooties? They grow out of that, 
but there is a time when they are both attracted to and 
repelled by boys all at the same time. That love/hate 
relationship intensifies as puberty gets a really good 
Rotweiller grip on a girl's body, and she wants things 
to happen with a boy, but not too personally.

That's where I had made my reputation. 

I was the guy who would do things for and with them 
that were scary, but safe at the same time, and then 
stop when it got too scary. A lot of girls wanted to 
engage in masturbation while I did the same thing... 
two or three feet away. Four or five girls had made 
that kind of deal with me in the past. Girls really 
liked to do that for some reason. It's like they could 
be all naughty and get off, but be safe about it 
because they were touching themselves, and I would be 
touching myself, so there would be no cootie transfer 
possible, so to speak. And it was fun for me too, cause 
I knew where their hand was, and what it was doing... 
and touching. Usually, after a girl did that with me, 
we didn't go out any more. They'd see me in the hall or 
somewhere and blush and get all shy and embarrassed. 
But that was OK, cause there was always another girl.

So when my little sister suggested that we masturbate 
together, I figured she would get her curiosity 
satisfied, and then get embarrassed and that would be 
it. I wouldn't blackmail her or anything, but she 
wouldn't know that, so it might even make it easier to 
get along with her in the future.

Right?

I said, "OK."


CHAPTER TWO
-----------

So there we were. My sister and I had just agreed to 
masturbate in front of each other. Now that's weird, 
any way that you look at it. It was weird because she 
was my sister. But it was also weird because, as she 
pushed down her shorts and pulled her shirt over her 
head, I was with a naked teenaged girl for the first 
time ever. I had done a lot of fooling around with 
girls - don't get me wrong - but none of them had ever 
been naked. And I had never been naked in front of a 
girl either. PARTS of me had been naked, but never the 
whole shebang. 

So it was surreal as I got naked with my sister. Of 
course my peter didn't think so. As soon as I saw her 
luscious soft titties and that fluff of pussy hair I 
had the hardest boner of my life. It just screamed to 
be stroked and I found my hand wrapped around it before 
I realized I had even done that. 

Claire was looking at me. "Wait for me," she panted. 
"Don't start without me." She went over to my bed and 
got up on it. She leaned back against the headboard and 
then leaned forward and grabbed my pillow to put behind 
her. I was standing there, my hand wrapped firmly 
around my prick, squeezing it hard, because that 
suddenly felt really good. 

Claire looked at me and there was a sort of pleading in 
her eyes. She didn't have to tell me how vulnerable she 
felt, because it took her a few seconds to get up the 
courage to bare herself to her first boy... her 
brother. And, when Claire drew her knees up and let 
them fall apart, exposing her whole pussy to me, I 
thought I'd shoot right then and there. I squeezed 
harder. It had never felt this good before. 

I saw the fear and nervousness fade in her eyes as I 
didn't laugh or say something to put her down or 
whatever she expected her big brother to do that he 
didn't.

"It's pretty," she said, as she slid her hand over her 
abdomen, toward that beautiful pussy. She was staring 
at what was in my hand.

Even though I didn't want to think about my penis as 
being "pretty", I wasn't about to get into an argument 
about semantics. 

"It's big too," she breathed. 

Now she was talking. 

She curled up all but three fingers and then covered 
her pussy with them. I think I moaned. I hated to see 
that beautiful pussy covered up. Then she started doing 
little circles with those three fingers and her head 
went back, like she was staring up at the ceiling. 

"Ohhh Bobby this feels so good," she moaned. Her head 
tilted back down and she looked at me. If you're ever 
in the jungle, and you suddenly come face to face with 
a hungry tiger or something, you will see the look I 
saw in her eyes. I knew if I jerked more than twice I'd 
blow spooge all over the place. 

Then she let her middle finger bend and it disappeared 
inside her. 

That was it for me. I felt semen trying like crazy to 
get out of my cock, but I didn't want it to be over so 
fast. I squeezed hard and felt like my head was going 
to explode. Drips of white oozed out of my piss hole 
and started stringing out, like somebody was trying to 
lower sheets to the ground to climb down during an 
escape. 

"Ooooo," sighed Claire, her eyes riveted to that long 
string of cum. 

Now I had this problem of not wanting it to end so 
soon, but wanting to spurt so bad I couldn't stand it. 
I shouldn't have done it, but something just made me. I 
took two steps toward her and jacked on my cock four or 
five times fast. Cum rocketed out of my prick and arced 
through the air to land on her arm and stomach. 

I felt the second shot coming and leaned my hips 
forward about the same time she realized what had 
happened. I thought she'd scream at me, but her eyes 
went wide and her hand blurred as she rubbed her clitty 
hard and fast. There came a sound from her throat I 
didn't think a human being could actually make and I 
realized she was cumming with me. My second shot 
splatted right on her left breast, making a line across 
the nipple. 

I was so excited that I couldn't even aim the last two 
or three shots and they landed mostly on the bedspread 
beside her, or dripped to the floor. I got so light-
headed that I had to let go of my cock and lean forward 
to support myself on the bed. That put my head only two 
feet from her pussy as she continued rubbing it 
frantically. She let her knees fall to the sides as her 
butt jerked upwards and her finger flashed in and out 
of her pussy.

I could smell her. 

She smelled fantastic. 

Just then she dragged her finger out of her and, just 
before those perfect pink lips closed up again, I could 
see into her pussy tunnel. It was wet in there. Clear 
liquid was seeping out between her lips. 

"I can feel you breathing on me" she panted. "That was 
so hot!" 

I just leaned and panted on her pussy. Finally I could 
get enough air to talk. "You should shave your pussy 
hair." I gasped. "That would look sooo good." 

I have to mention here that Claire was the kind of girl 
who gets energized by an orgasm. When she has one she's 
all perky and happy and full of energy. She sat up and 
suddenly her bare titty was inches from my face. There 
was a drip of my cum hanging from the nipple. 

"You really think so?" she asked excitedly. 

"Oh yeah" I groaned. "But then I'd want to touch it, so 
maybe you better not." 

"Ick!" she said suddenly. "You got your stuff all over 
me." She touched one finger to the drip on her nipple. 
"It was warm at first, but now it's getting cold. Let 
me up. I need to go clean up." 

I staggered back, my dick still dripping spunk and she 
bounced up off the bed like it was the first day after 
school was out for the summer. She grabbed her shirt 
and panties and, after peeking out of the door to make 
sure the coast was clear, darted into the bathroom 
across the hall. 

I got stuck cleaning up the mess. In the end I just 
wadded up the bed spread and used it to wipe everything 
else up. Then I put my shorts back on and took it to 
the laundry room and got the washer going. I didn't 
even care if my mom appeared and wanted to know what 
the heck I was doing washing clothes after bedtime. But 
she didn't, and I just went back and fell into bed. I 
had a hard time getting to sleep because I kept 
replaying the whole thing in my mind. I couldn't 
believe we'd done it.

Or that I'd loved doing it so much.

Claire had this amazing ability to take things in 
stride. Something pretty momentous had happened, as far 
as I was concerned. But at breakfast the next morning 
she acted just like usual. No blushes. No furtive 
looks. No apparent guilty conscience. She was just 
Claire. In fact, all day long she was just... Claire.

Which is why, that night, after Mom and Dad had gone to 
bed, I was actually surprised when she slipped through 
the partially opened door of my room again. And again 
she was only wearing panties and a T shirt. 

She had that look in her eye again. The one that made 
the hairs stand up all over me. And she had a magazine 
in her hand. It was one of those magazines for women. I 
don't even remember what it was called. Today it would 
be like Seventeen or something. 

"Look at this." she whispered. She held the magazine 
out and the great big headline to the story read, "IS 
SEX GOOD FOR YOUR SKIN?" 

"So?" I responded. What was I supposed to do, read it? 
I was too busy staring at the two little points on the 
front of her T shirt that told me she wasn't wearing 
anything under it again. Suddenly I smelled that odor 
again. Her odor. She was excited! I mean... that way... 
you know... like last night. 

"It says that semen has all these things in it that are 
good for your skin. They actually say you should RUB IT 
IN!" Her whisper was really loud and I shushed her, 
looking anxiously at the door. 

She looked too. "They won't hear anything. A bomb 
wouldn't wake them up. I dropped a pan in the kitchen 
one night and it was loud enough to wake the dead and 
they slept right through it." 

"Yeah, but do you have ANY idea what they'd do to us if 
they caught us?" I asked. 

Claire stood up and looked around. Her pony tail 
swished in the air. "What? We're not doing anything. 
We're just talking." 

"What do you want Claire?" I asked. It was a legitimate 
question. 

"I want to do it again." 

"What we did last night?" I thought her curiosity had 
been satisfied and I'd never see hide nor hair of her 
naked body again. 

Boy was I wrong. You remember that 'Claire takes things 
in stride' thing I told you? 

"Yeah," she said, breathing deeply. 

It was strange, looking at my sister and thinking "Man, 
I'd like to see her naked again." But hey, I'm a guy, 
right? 

"OK," I said. 

She almost yipped as she jumped up and down. That did 
the most amazing things to her unfettered breasts and 
they wobbled beautifully inside her T shirt. That shirt 
was the first thing to go and those wonderful soft 
looking pink tipped breasts came into view again. I got 
hard almost instantly and my briefs jutted out 
obscenely. 

Then she took her panties off and the breath caught in 
my chest. 

She had shaved. 

And, like I had told her... it made me want to touch 
it. I had the insane urge to lick my sister's pussy. It 
made my hands twitch. 

Claire stood there, looking beautiful, biting her lower 
lip as she waited for me to say something. 

"Fuck... it's beautiful," I blurted. 

You have to cut me a little slack here. I had touched 
several pussies, but most of that was groping in a back 
seat somewhere, and only once had I gotten my hand 
inside a girl's panties. She creamed almost immediately 
and then got scared and made me take my hand out of her 
pants. So, while I had this reputation for being all 
knowing and all that crap, I was looking at something 
I'd only seen once before, and even then it had been 
mostly covered by her fingers. 

Even though she was standing with her legs together, I 
could see the protrusion of her pussy lips in a little 
hollow kind of place right up high between her thighs. 
And they did look like lips! They were pressed 
together, like my mother's lips are - the ones on her 
face - when she's pissed off about something. But they 
were also fatter and so pale as to be almost white. 
They just BEGGED to be kissed and licked. 

Claire was excited, but not at the same level I was. 
"Really? You think so? It was really weird shaving. I 
was afraid I was going to cut myself and I was so 
nervous it took half an hour." 

"Lie down." I suggested "I want to see better." 

My poor trusting sister lay down on the bed as I got 
off of it to make room for her, and she splayed her 
legs wide, with no hesitation this time, no shame 
whatsoever. She was looking at the lump in my shorts. 
She drew her knees up so her feet were flat on the bed. 

Then she made the fateful statement: "Aren't you going 
to get undressed too?" 

OK, I know it's actually a fateful question, rather 
than a fateful statement, but the point is it's 
actually her fault that, when I climbed onto the bed, 
my rock hard and leaking prick was naked and ready to 
do what it was intended to do. I wasn't planning on 
doing anything other than rubbing the skin off of it, 
but I steadfastly maintain that I'd have left my briefs 
on to look at her pussy if she hadn't suggested I take 
them off. 

But I did take them off. 

So, when I got up there and crawled between her legs, 
my prick was stiff as a board and pointing right at 
her, like one of those hunting dogs that points at the 
bird hidden in the grass. I leaned in and saw those 
soft kissable lips up close and... well... I kissed 
them. 

What I actually did was smash my face into her mons and 
bite them with my lips. My tongue came out and 
slithered right between those tightly closed lips and I 
sucked, all at the same time. 

Claire froze. I mean she went rigid like she was 
actually a department store mannequin or something. 

Then she unfroze and her thighs slammed together on my 
ears as her hands grabbed two handfuls of my hair. And 
her knees went back apart like they were operated by 
springs or something. I felt the bed depress as she dug 
her heels in and she PUSHED her pussy up into my face 
at the same time she jerked my hair hard enough to make 
me grunt with pain. 

I will never forget the sound that came out of her 
throat. I've heard it lots of times since then, and it 
sounds remarkably similar regardless of what woman 
makes it. It was a whoosh of air that something was 
trying to cut off, and that 'something' made a groaning 
whining sound that made my dick jump and dribble. 

All this was happening at the same time my mind was 
going about a thousand miles an hour. I had lots of 
thoughts, among them "Oh shit, what have I done now?" 
and "She's going to scream and Mom and Dad are going to 
bust through the door and kill me!" and "MAN SHE TASTES 
GOOD!" and I was noticing the texture and smoothness of 
her mound and those lips, which all of a sudden weren't 
so tight and weren't so closed up. And finally, I was 
suddenly afraid that I'd scared her so much that she'd 
peed her pants. 

Well, not her pants, but you know what I mean. That was 
because there was this rush of wet against my face. As 
it turned out, she was so primed, thinking about 
rubbing off in front of me, that the sensations I 
caused in her caused her orgasm to burst on her 
unawares. For both of us. 

Well, after she entered that orgasm and pulled my hair 
out, she let go. I pulled my face back and saw a pussy 
that had undergone some changes. It wasn't flesh 
colored any more. It was red, and her pussy lips were 
open now, showing me that dark hole that went up inside 
her. And it glistened with all that moisture. I looked 
up and saw her looking back at me with eyes so wide 
that I could see white all around the dark centers. She 
was gasping for air, her breasts moving up and down two 
or three inches. 

"Do that AGAIN!" she panted. 

Like I said, Claire took things in stride. 

I stared at her pussy and saw that mythical thing I'd 
heard so much about, and managed to actually touch, 
that one time when I got my hand in that girl's pants. 
It was her clit. I was amazed. I didn't know what to 
compare it to back then. Since then, though, I think 
the closest thing that comes to mind is that arcade 
game where there are a bunch of holes and you have a 
hammer or club and a mole head pops up out of one of 
the holes and you have to try to hit it before it pops 
back down. Well, her clit looked like a little tiny 
mole head just starting to poke out of a really tight 
hole. 

I knew that was a prime place to touch a girl and I'd 
always wanted to play with a clit. So I leaned down and 
clamped my lips around it and sucked.

I lost some more hair.

She was slippery. I knew now that she hadn't peed, and 
that whatever that slippery tangy tasting stuff was, it 
was a good thing that meant she was having a good time. 
She started moaning and saying my name over and over. 
She was getting louder but I didn't care because I was 
having the time of my short life.

We both got way too excited. I know that now. But then, 
in the heat of the situation, you just don't think. She 
squirted my face again and told me she loved me and to 
never stop and somehow I sort of ended up on top of her 
and somehow my prick sort of went in her a little. 

OK, that's not true. When I was wiggling around on top 
of her it was because she pulled me up for a kiss. She 
took my wet slippery face in stride too and it was 
during that kiss that it felt good to rub my prick 
against her, so I did that, and it was while I was 
doing that that I felt heat all around the tip of my 
cock. And that just felt so good I pushed. I didn't 
MEAN to. But when I pushed, what with all that slippery 
stuff coating her pussy mouth, my cock just slid right 
in and when I pushed there was this resistance, but 
then it disappeared and I slid in farther.

That was when she hissed and went "OooOOOWWWWW 
BOBBEEEEEE!!!"

We both knew I had just popped her cherry. We weren't 
so stupid as to wonder what was going on. I was half 
buried in her and it hadn't felt very good on her part. 
I wasn't complaining. For me it had felt fabulous. But 
still, just the knowledge that you have just popped 
your sister's cherry has a pretty big impact on you. I 
know it had a big impact on me. I stopped.

Claire was still making these little "I'm not very 
happy any more" sounds and was king of wiggling her 
butt around, maybe like she was trying to get 
comfortable or something. Or trying to get away from 
me. And what she was actually doing was kind of sliding 
back and forth on my prick a little bit. I suddenly 
realized her hands were on my sides.

Then some more of that impact on me happened. My prick 
notified my brain that only half of it was nice and 
warm and buried in yummy hot flesh. And my brain called 
to my back muscles and yelled "Give 'em a little help!" 
So my back muscles bunched up and I jammed another two 
inches of hard cock into my sister's pussy.

Now, a piece of my brain knew that was the wrong thing 
to do. But it was a little like that thing where you're 
supposed to pat your head with one hand and rub your 
stomach with the other hand all at the same time. The 
brain knows what it's supposed to do, but usually 
something else happens instead. And my brain was 
telling me to push hard, but reminding me I had no 
business porking the shit out of my sister all at the 
same time. And the fact that Claire made it sound like 
a cat convention, what with all her hissing and 
spitting and yowling, made it pretty clear that her 
brain was in agreement that it was time to vacate her 
pussy.

I got most of the way out. Then that other part of my 
brain missed all that nice warm pussy flesh and told me 
to get back in there. So I did that, and was 
immediately rewarded with that wonderful feeling that 
nothing else even comes close to.

Long story short, there was this little war going on in 
my head, and the result was the... ebb and flow, if you 
will... of my little trooper. He advanced and retreated 
until he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to 
go forward or pull back. 

It was about then that I realized the cat convention 
had disbanded, and Claire had joined the group of women 
who made those noises in motel rooms. And she was good 
at it too! She sounded like she really meant it.

I know this sounds a little disjointed in the telling. 
But I was prick deep in losing my virginity, while 
taking my sister's virginity, and my mind wasn't quite 
at a hundred percent. My memory wasn't quite at a 
hundred percent after it was over either.

Anyway, the next thing I remember was when her 
fingernails were digging for oil in my back and she was 
whining and moaning and she hit the note that was 
hooked to the sonic switch in my balls, because my 
prick, which had been so trustworthy up to then, 
started spurting spunk while it was still buried in her 
belly.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that was a 
run-on sentence, and that no self respecting author 
would use one in a decent story. 

Well, I had just fucked my own sister, popping her only 
cherry. Moreover I had just spurted her full of 
incestuous brother spunk and there was no way in the 
world she was on any birth control. So that means I 
can't lay any claim at all to being self respecting. 
And since this story starts out with incest, I can't 
claim it's decent either. So all I can tell you is that 
the whole incident was like a long run-on sentence that 
kept going and going and dragging me along with it 
until it abruptly ended. Leaving me breathless, I might 
add. Just like a run-on sentence.

Claire was lying under me gasping for air. I pushed up 
off of her, hating to feel her body separating from me, 
and looked down at her. It was another one of those 
moments of truth. I had just popped my sister's cherry, 
without her asking for it. It had hurt. I had filled 
her up with baby makers. So I really couldn't expect 
her to be happy about it. And this was her first real 
chance to tell me what a selfish, perverted, unkind 
jerk I really was.

She had this stupid grin on her face. "Do that AGAIN!" 
she panted. 

Did I mention before that Claire always took things in 
stride?

***

Well, now you know what happened with Claire... how a 
pure accident led to something that was not quite 
accidental, but not intentional either. I still 
couldn't believe I had packed my sister's pussy plumb 
full of my seed. And on top of that she actually said 
"Thank you." when we were done. I'd had a pretty good 
time too, and I told her so. I also told her I was 
interested in doing it again. She gave me a brilliant 
smile and said "We'll see. I need to see if I get my 
next period first." 

Well, that was sobering. I hadn't really thought a 
whole lot about that possibility. But then what teens 
do when they're ass deep in hormones and fucking like 
crazy? But she seemed to be taking the possibility I'd 
knocked her up in stride, just like she took everything 
in stride, so I decided not to worry about it. 

The next Friday night was a sleepover night for the 
posse. They had those every month, sometimes even more 
frequently, and in the past I had tried to make myself 
scarce when they were all over there doing the pajama 
thing. It wasn't that I didn't like looking at them in 
their nightgowns. I liked that a LOT! But they 
invariably picked on me and teased me and generally 
made themselves a pain in the ass. 

But there had been times when I was there at the same 
time, and I almost always heard something interesting 
in their chatter. Especially if I actually tried to 
listen. I had no idea if Claire would cop to what we'd 
done, but I knew if she did it would be... interesting. 
I also knew that I'd probably be dead within a week if 
she did spill the beans.

So this time I planned on staying home. In fact I went 
farther than that. Claire's room shared a wall with 
mine, and her closet was beside my closet. I knew she 
never closed her closet doors. They were those folding 
type doors with louvers in them, and she just left them 
folded to the side. So I figured that if I made a few 
well placed holes in the closet wall, I might be able 
to hear what they were saying if they were in her room. 
Of course they gathered and lounged all over the house, 
but I figured if they talked about sex it would be in 
the privacy of her room. 

I was right. 

I knew she was going to tell them at supper. She was 
all excited.... more excited than she should have been 
for a routine visit of the posse. After supper I got 
her in the hallway and told her "Don't do anything 
stupid tonight." 

"Why Bobby! Whatever are you talking about?" she 
grinned. She actually grinned at me! 

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You tell them 
what we did and it will be all over the neighborhood by 
morning, and parents will be talking to Mom and Dad 
before breakfast." 

She stuck her cute little nose up in the air. "Don't 
you worry about it. I know what I'm doing." 

I leaned over her. I had her by at least two inches. It 
wasn't like she couldn't go anywhere, but she'd have 
had to duck to one side. "You just keep your mouth 
closed." I warned her. 

My mother scared both of us to death. "Bobby!" she said 
sternly. "Quit harassing your sister." She had come 
into the hallway and we had been so centered on each 
other that we hadn't noticed. I wondered how much she'd 
heard. 

Claire wasn't worried though. "Thank you Mommy" she 
said in that syrupy sweet voice she used to get what 
she wanted. "He was being mean to me." 

"Why can't you two love each other?" said my Mom in an 
exasperated voice. 

If only she knew. 

But it didn't sound like she did, so I relaxed and 
backed off. But my ear was plastered to the three 
little holes I had drilled in the wall when I knew the 
girls were in Claire's room. 

And I was right about Claire telling them too. Except I 
was wrong about how she did it. She waited until the 
last one was there, and they all trooped into her room 
and slammed the door. I had to stand up in the closet. 
I had decided the best place to drill the holes was 
right behind all her clothes, where she wouldn't be 
likely to see any light shining through them or 
anything. 

"Close the door!" I heard Claire say. I could hear the 
excitement in her voice. "I have something special to 
tell you."

I was sweating buckets and not because it was hot in my 
closet. 


CHAPTER THREE		
-------------

"You won't BELIEVE what happened to me!" she started 
out. Then there were the obligatory guesses. I couldn't 
sort out the voices, but they ranged from "Your Mom 
caved and let you get that bikini you wanted!" to "You 
flunked that math test, didn't you." Not one of them 
guessed that she'd lost her virginity. 

After she let them guess the wrong things for a minute 
or so, she whispered, in a loud whisper. "I got my 
cherry popped!" 

Dead silence. At least for ten seconds. 

Then it was bedlam, with all of them screaming like 
only fifteen year old girls can scream. 

Then there were the rapid fire questions. "Who was it?" 
"What was it like" "Are you lying to us?" "Did it 
hurt?" "WHO WAS IT?" 

That last question got asked a lot. Finally it quieted 
down. I could just see Claire standing there grinning, 
holding court, waiting for the masses to quiet so she 
could tell them all the lurid details. This was it. My 
life would be over. I'd be sent to reform school. 

Claire's voice piped up again. "I can't tell you who 
did it." 

There was a chorus of complaints. 

My sister went on. "Really, I can't. I swore to keep it 
secret. The guy could get in a lot of trouble because 
of my age." That made sense to them, but the other 
questions were re-asked. Claire began what sounded like 
a prepared speech. "It was wonderful. Really. It felt 
sooo good I wanted it to last forever. And he was so 
gentle with me, and he really cared about how I felt. 
If I wasn't so scared about getting pregnant I'd let 
him do it again." 

Monique spoke up. "You mean he didn't even use a 
rubber?" She sounded incredulous. 

Claire defended herself. "It all happened kind of fast. 
I mean we weren't planning on doing it, and then it 
kind of happened and besides that he felt so warm 
inside me I don't think I'd like it if he used a rubber 
anyway." 

Suzie was next. "Did he... you know... squirt in you?" 

Claire sighed. "Oh yes and that was almost the best 
part. His... thing... jumped each time it squirted and 
I could feel it and it was hot and wet feeling and it 
was just yummy." 

Marge chimed in, "I can't believe this. You've only 
been allowed to date for a month. Come on Claire, who 
WAS it?" 

"Even if I did tell you... and I promised not to... you 
wouldn't believe me anyway. He's... older." She 
couldn't resist giving them clues. I had relaxed a 
little when she refused to tell them, but they were 
sharp girls, and if she gave them too many clues they 
were smart enough to do a little investigating and find 
out who she'd been seen out with. 

"How come you didn't tell us you were going on a date?" 
That was Marge again. She sounded suspicious to me. 

"Yeah, if you weren't planning on doing it why wouldn't 
you tell us you were going out?" Knobby Robby finally 
made her debut as an inquisitor. 

Claire was caught off guard. "Well... um... it wasn't a 
date exactly. I mean we didn't plan on anything to 
happen." 

Marge bored in. "So you met this guy, and didn't plan 
on anything, and skipped the first kiss, and the 
petting and went straight to getting it on?! What's 
going on Claire? Come on, give!" 

The pressure was growing. I could feel the tension 
through the little holes in the wall. I was sweating 
again. 

Claire tried to buck up. "It doesn't MATTER who it 
was!" she yelled - entirely too loud in my opinion. 
"All that matters is that it happened, and I'm glad it 
happened, and you all just HAVE to try it!" 

More bedlam as five girls squealed and screamed and 
yelled about how they were going to do this, or not 
going to do that, and who would they do it with anyway 
and on and on. 

When it finally quieted down Claire said "I might know 
somebody you could do it with." Her attitude was like 
she hadn't listened to any of their objections. If the 
Sheriff said they were going to get their cherries 
popped, then that was what they were going to do. 

Donna spoke up for the first time. "Who is it?" 

Claire was still trying to control things, though. "I'm 
not going to tell you until you all agree to do it." 

I had been about to leave my closet, because I was 
getting tired. I had been all tensed up, listening to 
what I was sure was going to be my downfall. But her 
offer to find them a hard prick had me glued to the 
wall. I mean it didn't take a rocket scientist to 
figure out who she was talking about. Not to me anyway. 
As far as I knew, she only had access to one rigid 
prick, and it was... mine. 

I was suddenly and urgently interested in what would 
come next. 

I'm here to tell you Claire had an iron grip on her 
posse. It only took her forty-five minutes to get them 
all to agree to lose their virginity to a man of HER 
choice. I also learned that they had some kind of 
solemn oath that they took when something really 
important was in the offing. They all repeated a bunch 
of words that I couldn't understand because they 
weren't quite saying them all at the same time, and 
then Donna demanded again "OK, now who is it?" 

There was a period of silence that about killed me and 
then Claire said "Bobby." 

I expected pandemonium again, but it was strangely 
quiet. 

Marge suddenly blurted, "I KNEW IT!" 

Claire said "I didn't say I did it with Bobby. I said 
YOU GUYS are going to do it with Bobby." 

Suzie said, "Oh Claire... I don't know about this." 

"You swore!" accused Claire. 

"Yeah, but that was before I knew it would be your 
brother." 

Marge broke in. "I kind of like the idea. I've thought 
he was cute for a long time." 

THEN the pandemonium set in again. I heard, variously, 
"How do you know he'll do it?" and "OH, he'll do it OK" 
and "Bobby? I can't imagine doing it with Bobby!" and 
"OK Margie, since you think he's so cute you have to be 
first." and "Bobby? I can't do it with Bobby!" and "I 
guess doing it with Bobby wouldn't be so bad." and a 
whole bunch more. 

The only one I never heard say a single word was Knobby 
Robby. 

By then I was all cramped up. When they started talking 
about planning dates based on their cycles, and whether 
to use rubbers or not and all that stuff I limped out 
of my closet and lay down on the bed. 

I hadn't even felt it happen, but I was hard as a rock. 

Now I have to tell you that, despite what I'd heard 
through that wall, I didn't actually think anything was 
going to happen with the posse. I mean that was all 
just talk, right? But a guy can dream, and I'd seen 
enough of the posse in bathing suits and pajamas to be 
able to bring up some images that made my stiff dick 
really happy. 

I also knew that, with the posse there, Claire wouldn't 
be coming into my room for anything involving my dick, 
so I started stroking it slowly, thinking of Donna and 
that picture in the Playboy of the other Donna. 

So imagine my surprise when my door opened and Claire 
walked in like she owned the place. 

Her eyes got big as she saw what I was doing. I had 
just pushed my shorts down enough to get to Mr. Happy 
and was just lying there on my back, my hand wrapped 
firmly around him. My first thought that member(s) of 
the posse might be right behind her. I stuffed my dork 
back in my shorts and half sat up. 

"Shit Claire!" I gasped. "You scared the crap out of 
me!" I was caught between sitting up and lying down and 
rocked on the bed until I got my legs involved and sat 
all the way up. 

"What are you doing?" she gasped back. I think it was 
one of those rhetorical questions. She knew exactly 
what I was doing. She'd seen me do it before, after 
all. 

"You need to learn to knock," I grumbled. 

"You're supposed to save that for me," she said. 

Now where did that come from? The last I heard was we 
'might' do it again some time... if she felt like it, 
and wasn't pregnant. 

I remembered that I wasn't supposed to know anything 
about the conversation she'd just had with the posse. 
"What do you want. You can't want to do that with all 
the girls here," I said. 

That reminded her of why she'd come barging into my 
room in the first place. "Um... I wanted to ask you 
something." she said. She looked uncertain about how to 
go on. 

"OK..." I prompted. 

"Well, you know what we did, right?" She looked like 
she actually wanted me to tell her I remembered. She 
was just full of stupid questions that night. But she 
went on. "Um... what if somebody else wanted to do 
that, but not with their boyfriend? Like, maybe for 
practice or something. I mean would you help them learn 
how to do it?" 

There was another stupid question. What guy would say 
"No, I don't think I'm interested in getting in a 
girl's panties if she doesn't want to hang on me like a 
third arm, and talk about marriage some day and tell 
the world I'm hers." 

But I didn't want to sound needy, so I said "I guess it 
would depend on who the girl was." Then I added. "Why 
would a girl want to do that anyway?" 

Now I didn't think that was a stupid question, but 
Claire acted like it was. "Why did I want to know what 
it was like? It sure wasn't because you're such a stud 
or anything. I just wanted to know what if felt like." 

Oh, so now she was just experimenting, and all that 
stuff about how hot it would be to see me jack off was 
forgotten. As I recalled things, I'd almost raped her, 
except that it turned out she wasn't in the mood to 
resist. And now, somehow, she had decided that she LET 
me fuck her because she was curious. Who understands 
the way girls think? 

So I tried to act 'normal'. "OK, OK, so who is it?" 

"You'll do it then?" she asked. Claire was really into 
getting commitment before she gave out all the 
information. She'd probably grow up to sell insurance 
or something. 

"I might... depending on who it is." I insisted. 

She looked exasperated. The Sheriff wasn't used to 
people questioning her authority. 

"What if it was one of the girls in the posse?" she 
asked. 

I tried to look surprised. "Well, most of them are kind 
of cute I guess it would depend on which one." I had to 
act normal, right? 

Claire didn't know what to do now. She looked at me 
with a frown. Then she looked behind her, at the closed 
door. "What if it was Marge?" she asked finally. 

I made my eyebrows go up. I was so proud of myself. 
"Marge wants me to screw her?" I asked. 

Claire's frown deepened. "You make it sound so dirty!" 
she said. I didn't find out until later that "screwing" 
was something dirty people did. Nice people 'made love' 
as far as Claire was concerned. They might 'fuck', but 
you could only call it that while you were actually 
doing it. 

Like I said, who understands the way girls think? 

I decided that Claire was too much in charge here. So I 
went on defense. "Did you tell them what we did?" I 
whispered fiercely. Or at least what I thought would 
sound fierce. 

Her reaction was fabulous. "No! Of course not! Why 
would I do that?" she asked, trying to look just as 
injured as I was trying to sound fierce. 

"Why all this sudden interest in... me? By Marge, I 
mean." I asked. 

"Well, maybe it came up in conversation that I wasn't a 
virgin any more," she said, looking off to one side of 
me. She couldn't quite meet my gaze. "But I didn't tell 
them how it happened or anything like that. I just said 
I liked it, and Marge said she might want to find out 
what it was like too." 

She was good. I had to give her that. If I hadn't 
listened at the wall I might have bought it. But I knew 
that Claire didn't want to be the only one who knew 
what it was like to have a stiff cock in her pussy, and 
that if the whole posse did it too then she wouldn't 
have to feel like she was a pervert or something. At 
least that's what I thought. 

"So I was good?" I asked. 

Claire looked confused for a few seconds until she 
realized she had complimented me on my lovemaking 
skills, such as they were. I could just hear the gears 
turning in her pretty little head. If she said what she 
wanted to say, it would probably be something like "IT 
was good. All you were was a stiff prick. Doing it with 
a dildo would be just as good except your prick is 
warm." That's what a normal sister might say to her 
brother. 

Come to think of it, if a brother and sister have had 
sex, can they be called normal at all from then on? 
Would they argue about sex the same way they argue 
about chores? 

Sorry, I digress. 

She didn't say that. Instead she turned on the charm. 
"Well of course you were good. I mean you were my 
first, and I don't have anybody to compare you to, but 
I had a really good time Bobby. And I think Marge would 
have a good time too if you were maybe a little more 
gentle or something. Come on, wouldn't you like to see 
Margie naked?" 

Another stupid question. But guys are stupid too 
sometimes, and that question reoriented my thinking. Of 
COURSE I 'd like to see Large Marge naked. Those huge 
tits must be mouth watering. I'd dreamed of seeing 
those tits for a long time. 

I remembered to use restraint. "Well, I guess that 
would be cool." I decided to turn on some charm too. 
"You were really beautiful." 

She actually blushed! Score one for the males of the 
species. 

"So you'll do it?" she was eager now. 

"When?" I asked. I had to get ready for this. If I 
didn't want to squirt instantly - and I knew I would - 
I'd have to beat off before we did any fooling around. 

"Now." she said. "Tonight." 

Shit! That took me by surprise. My cock had softened 
while we talked. But it spoke up now. It said "Yes! OK! 
Bring it on!" What came out of my mouth was an 
astonished "OK." 

She said "Cool", and turned around to leave. 

I panicked. My mind was screaming "NO! Wait, I need to 
get ready for this! What about Mom and Dad? What about 
birth control? Do I need to take a shower? What about 
cologne? Should I shave?" That last part was pretty 
silly. I shaved once every month or so just so I could 
say I did, but leaving the blade out of the razor 
wouldn't have made any difference to the final result. 

But she was gone and the door was closed and I was left 
there with the shakes, wondering if I'd just made a 
horrible mistake. 

I'm not sure Marge was as eager to lose her virginity 
as Claire let on, because it was a long time before 
there was a timid knock at my door. Long enough that I 
had time to calm down and think about things. I mean 
how different was this from what I did with the older 
girls? I'd just play with Marge and if she had a good 
time and wanted more I'd do more. And if she froze up 
then that was OK too. She really was beautiful, so it 
was a win/win situation regardless of how far things 
went. Even if all we did was kiss and grope a little it 
would be OK. I'd beaten off after dates plenty of 
times. 

I arranged myself artfully on the bed, lying on my 
side, holding my head up with one hand, the other hand 
draped across my stomach. I saw an issue of "True 
Detective" at my Aunt's house, and it had a picture of 
a guy lying like that with a babe looking at him like 
she wanted to jump his bones. I was going for suave and 
debonair. 

Marge stuck her head in the door. Just her head. "Can I 
talk to you?" she asked. 

"Sure." I said suavely. 

She came in and stopped. She had on pajamas with 
pictures of Barbie on them. Barbie was another fantasy 
of mine, so that was just fine. "You're half naked!" 
she squeaked. 

She didn't sound like a girl who was full of lust and 
who couldn't wait to have me climb between what I was 
sure were her soft, flawless thighs. 

"Well, uh... I sleep this way." I managed. Suave and 
debonair flew right out the window. I made a hasty grab 
at the tail end of debonair. "You've seen me like this 
at the pool lots of times." 

"Oh. Yeah." she relaxed a little. She didn't move 
though. I thought I had managed to coax debonair back 
into the room, so I patted the bed beside my stomach. 
"Have a seat. What do you want to talk about?" 

This is a game that adults play all the time. Both the 
man and the woman know what they want. They want good, 
sweaty, hot sex, with a juicy orgasm at the end. But 
for some reason they aren't honest about it in the 
beginning. They have to play the game of trying to 
convince each other that sex is the last thing on their 
mind, and that nice, unsexy conversation is what this 
is really all about. I think kids learn that from 
adults without actually thinking about it. Like through 
osmosis or something. 

What I really wanted to say was "Get naked baby, and 
let's do the bump ugly!" But what I said was "Have a 
seat. What do you want to talk about?" 

Marge had learned the game too, whether she knew it or 
not. She came a few steps closer and asked, "Do you 
like me?" 

This, from a girl who had tormented me on every 
occasion she could for the last three or four years. 

My response made about as much sense. "Sure, you're OK 
for a girl." 

I said we learned the game by osmosis. But we weren't 
any good at the game. Being good at the game takes 
practice, and neither Large Marge nor I had much of 
that. 

She was incensed. "Bobby! That's a horrible thing to 
say to a girl!" 

I realized my mistake, and that debonair had fled the 
premises once again. It's probably good that it did, 
because my next response was based on common sense. 

"Look Marge, you're a beautiful girl, and I like you a 
lot. I'm glad about it every time you come over. I 
didn't pay that much attention to you when we were 
younger, but you've really grown up and I really like 
being around you." 

Who needs suave or debonair when actual compliments are 
better anyway? And I found suddenly that they were true 
too. I DID like being around her. She was smart and she 
really was gorgeous, with that short blond hair that 
framed her pixie face and those lovely blue eyes that 
I'd never actually noticed before. And her breasts 
were... well they were impressive. Even covered up they 
were impressive. I remembered why she'd come there and 
my cock began to do things in my shorts. 

She chose that moment to sit tentatively on the edge of 
the bed. She had to crane her neck to look at me, but 
at least she couldn't see the evidence of the arousal 
she caused. I didn't think she was quite ready for that 
yet. 

"I don't know about this." she said, to no one in 
particular. 

"Look Marge," I said. "You don't have to do everything 
Claire tells you to do." Oops, a little slip there. I 
was afraid she'd catch it and want to know how I knew 
Claire was telling her to do this. But she didn't. She 
had too many other things on her mind. I had learned 
that telling a girl she didn't have to do anything gave 
her the confidence to try something she knew she 
probably shouldn't try, but wanted to anyway. I didn't 
know if that would work with Marge, but I suddenly 
hoped so. Up close I could see that Barbie's face had a 
nipple under it, and that nipple was sticking out, 
making Barbie’s face stick out too. That pretty well 
finished the job of making Mr. Happy all ready to... be 
happy. 

"Really?" she replied. This poor girl was brainwashed. 
Claire's approval was pretty important to her. 

"Really." I said. I'd love to fool around a little. 
You're gorgeous and I like you, but you don't have to 
do anything at all if you don't want to." 

"But what will I tell them when I go back?" she whined. 

"You don't have to tell them anything." I said. "Or you 
can tell them we did whatever you want to tell them we 
did." 

I'm a guy. Things are simple like that. We lie. I 
figured girls did too, you know? 

"That won't work" she said miserably. "They'll know. 
Why did I ever say I wanted to do this with you?" 

"You said that?" I asked. "Really? I thought Claire 
just bullied you into it." Another slip of the tongue. 
But again she missed it. 

She looked at me out of the side of her eye, through 
long, beautiful lashes. "Well, you are cute." she said. 
Some mystical sense told me she thought I was going to 
make fun of her. Well, maybe it wasn't all that 
mystical. After all, every time I'd had anything to do 
with her in the past I'd made fun of her. She did it to 
me too. That was who we were. Back then. 

But this was now, and so I reached out and touched her 
cheek with one finger. "Thanks." I said. 

She relaxed and I knew I'd scored another point. "So 
what do we do now?" she asked. 

I decided to see just how cute I really was. "Well, why 
don't you lie down here beside me and kiss me. Then you 
could talk about the kiss and maybe they'd forget about 
everything else." 

"Fat chance!" she said, but she turned to climb over 
me. If I'd have been further back she could have just 
laid down, but Suave was off taking a leak or something 
and wasn't in the room. 

So, naturally, I rolled to my back. 

And naturally my rock hard boner made a tent in my 
shorts that a blind person couldn't miss. 

"Ooooo," she said in a voice that was all breathy. She 
had one hand on my hip, getting ready to climb over me, 
but she stopped and stared. I realized that Barbie's 
PJs could have used another button, but I was suddenly 
very glad they didn't because I got a shot of what made 
Marge... Large Marge. Mr. Happy gave a little jump for 
joy and it looked like I had a squirrel in my pants. 

"OOOooooo," she sighed again. She looked up at me and 
debonair made one more appearance as I suavely said 
"You're a stone fox, Margie... what did you expect?" 

Well, apparently when a girl sees that a guy she 
doesn't actually hate has a boner for her, it pushes 
one of those hormone buttons that girls have scattered 
around their bodies. Suddenly she was a lot less 
anxious and a lot more interested in that kiss I had 
suggested. 

She climbed on over and flopped down beside me. I 
rolled toward her and slid my arm under hers, letting 
it lie across her waist. Her eyes were big, and she was 
staring at me with a look that would make any guy feel 
like he was king of the world. Her lips were slightly 
open because she was breathing long slow breaths that 
wouldn't fit through her nostrils. Her lips looked pink 
and plump and warm and soft and I kissed them. 

They WERE warm and soft. 

I had a lot of experience with this part. I was a good 
kisser and I knew it. I knew how to French kiss, and I 
knew how to do little nibble kisses, and how to kiss 
the corner of a girl's mouth and her neck and all that 
stuff. And it was a lot of fun too. I knew right away 
that Marge, the best looking girl in the whole posse, 
hadn't had too much experience with kissing. 

It wasn't that she wasn't any good. She took to it like 
a duck takes to water. But she enjoyed it SO much that 
I knew it was new to her. So we necked for like what 
seemed forever and I had a good time. She did too. She 
snuggled up against me and the fact that my nasty old 
boner was poking right into her PJ clad muffy didn't 
seem to bother her one little bit. I wasn't doing 
anything with my hands, and maybe that made her feel 
more secure. 

At some point we took a break to breathe. Both of us 
needed it. She was panting like she'd run up three 
flights of stairs. I was in a little better shape, 
having learned how to snatch the odd breath as the 
position of my lips changed. I already had ample 
evidence that I was cute enough to swap serious spit 
with. I decided to try for more. 

"You could tell the girls about those kisses... and how 
I kissed your breasts... if you want." 

I don't know if debonair was back in the room or not, 
but after her eyes said “Wow, I’m startled!“, they 
got... I don't know... deep maybe? It's hard to 
describe, but they looked big enough and blue enough to 
swim in somehow. 

"OK." she said. 

But she didn't do anything. 

So it was up to me to suavely and debonairly get those 
luscious orbs naked. I only had one hand, because the 
other was kind of under me. I tried, but it didn't 
work. So she rolled to her back and that let me get up 
a little and bring both hands to bear. She had that 
look in her eye again, that deep look, so I felt like 
everything was going well. 

Something told me not to hurry, and I unbuttoned each 
button and then went to the next one without spreading 
the material apart. Then they were all done. I reached 
out and very slowly pulled the edges apart so that the 
valley between her breasts was bare. Then something 
told me to kiss that valley. I think debonair had 
finally decided he wasn't ashamed of me any more. After 
I kissed that I kissed her lips again, and then leaned 
back up to uncover nirvana. 

Oh man they were beautiful. They were round and full 
and had the most luscious pink tips. Her areolas were 
tiny, and her nipples weren't large either, more like 
large peas. But they were hard as a rock. 

Debonair cringed as I said "OK, I'm going to kiss them 
now." 

Marge said "OK". Had I known enough, I'd have thanked 
my lucky stars that she didn't roll off that bed and 
walk out at what had to look like an almost academic 
approach to kissing her breasts. 

And then I didn't kiss them. Not really. I went 
straight for her left nipple and sucked that baby into 
my mouth. 

It was like I'd stuck her with a pin or something. She 
gave a strangled "MPFFT" sort of sound and her chest 
strained up off the bed. Just so's I could say I'd 
gotten them both I switched nipples and sucked that one 
too. That got me an "Ohhhhhhhh," which sounded lots 
better. 

Now all you guys out there, and you girls too who play 
softball, know that you don't just stop at second base. 
The whole point of the game is to get to home plate. So 
after kissing and nipple sucking, it's just normal to 
want to steal to pussy... so to speak. But I was 
chicken. Things were going so well, and I was having a 
hell of a good time, and I didn't want any umpires 
yelling that I was out, or that the game was called on 
account of fear or whatever. 

So I ended up going back to her lips and then used my 
hands on her breasts and nipples, pinching them and 
moving those big jugs around on her chest. And I must 
have pushed another of those hormone buttons somewhere, 
because her kisses got hotter and hotter and all of a 
sudden her hand was on mine and it was PUSHING my hand 
toward where I wanted to go in the worst way. 

Believe it or not, I was going too slow! 

Marge told me later that after I sucked her nipples she 
decided right then and there that her virginity was 
toast. She was ready. But I didn't know it. 

I found out when my hand slid under the elastic band of 
her pajama bottoms and through the fluffiest and 
softest pussy hair I had ever felt and into a mess of 
wet that ANY guy would know meant this girl was turned 
ON! 

I speeded things up then. I was getting pretty heated 
up myself. Wet pussy will do that to a guy. I slid a 
finger into Margie's virgin pussy and probed deep. She 
made that strangled sound again, this time in my mouth 
because I was kissing her as I did it. I sawed my 
finger in and out, trying to find and rub her clitty, 
which I knew had to be there. I must have gotten it a 
few times because she pushed at my chest. 

I thought I had gone too far, but Marge shimmied out of 
her PJs and was suddenly achingly naked. 

"I want to try it." she panted. 

"Are you sure?" I asked. This was serious stuff now. 

"Yes... please." she said. "I want to be able to tell 
them about all of it." 

My shorts joined Barbie, where they had a ringside seat 
on Marge's defloration, which actually went very well, 
in my opinion. I got up over her and almost shot off 
just looking at her lying there, all blond and big-
titted and her legs were open for me and I already knew 
how wet and slick she was. And when I nudged the tip of 
my prick between those two plump pink pussy lips of 
hers and she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed 
up with her heels, I knew she really did want to try 
it. 

Marge was a natural. She was as hot as asphalt on a 
July day and she'd rubbed herself almost raw lots of 
times, though of course I didn't know that then. She'd 
destroyed her hymen long ago and my adolescent prick 
fit her like a glove. If anything she was bigger than 
me. I slid into her like ice cream slides down your 
throat. And Marge loved to fuck from the git-go. As 
soon as I was all the way in her she bucked and 
thrashed and moaned and cried and told me she loved me 
and all kinds of stuff. 

I later found out that she was responsible for three of 
the other girls deciding to let me pop their cherries. 

Get this. They were all out in the hall listening. 
They'd actually come to see what was taking so long and 
had been about to knock on the door when she let out a 
moan they heard clear out in the hallway. I guess girls 
can tell when a moan is a good moan instead of a bad 
one, because they all froze and listened to Marge have 
her very first orgasm caused one hundred percent by my 
rock hard prick. 

And my good looks, of course.

It wouldn't be her last. Not by a long shot. But more 
on that later. Right now my balls are all full and want 
to cum, just like they did that night. 

I did to Marge what you could only call pounding. I 
slammed into her again and again, withdrawing only 
enough to slam forward one more time. And she loved 
that rough treatment. After Margie crashed through an 
orgasm or three I finally decided I'd done my duty. I 
should have pulled out of her, but I didn't want to. 
Instead, I slammed in one last time and held it deep 
while Mr. Happy upchucked sperm right into her teenage 
womb. 

Cumming in Claire had been amazing. This was too, but 
it was different. It was Large Marge, and while my 
prick was spitting and seeding her but good, I was 
lying on those fabulous soft spongy tits. I wanted to 
cum like a fire hose and somebody lost the wrench to 
turn it off. 

Of course it didn't work that way. I collapsed on top 
of Marge and she grabbed my face and was babbling her 
thank-you's and kissing me and I'm absolutely sure that 
if I'd have asked her to marry me at that second she'd 
have screamed "YES!" at the top of her lungs. 

Thankfully, I didn't. But the girls in the hall heard 
all her thank you's and that sealed the deal. We lay 
there for a few minutes longer and suddenly she got all 
perky. 

"I have to go!" she said, looking at her wrist, which 
was bare. "I have to get back to Claire's room. What if 
your parents catch us?" 

Now was a fine time to ask that question. 

But I rolled off of her and had just the teeniest 
glimpse of red looking pussy lips covered with thick 
white spunk before she closed her legs, sat up and 
covered herself with Barbie again. I may have moaned 
again as the top covered up Nirvana and, after one 
quick kiss on the lips and a last "Thank you Bobby... I 
mean it." she was gone. 

Mr. Happy was ecstatic. But I was too tired to even go 
listen to what she said through the wall. Even if Marge 
was the only one who ever let me touch her, it had been 
worth it. And, based on her attitude when she left, I 
had a pretty good idea that I'd get to see... and 
suck... those wonderful tits again too.

I thought about that as I drifted off to sleep.


CHAPTER FOUR
------------

The next morning was a day to sleep in, it being 
Saturday, but of course that didn't happen with Claire 
and the posse in the house. They were particularly 
charged up that morning because two of their number 
were no longer virgins and one of those had forfeited 
that virginity within range of the hearing of the rest, 
only the night before. I didn't know they had actually 
been in the hallway, listening to Large Marge moan her 
way through a couple of orgasms

But, I was sure they all knew what had happened. 

Some of you might be thinking that I'd have wanted to 
be up and strutting around, like a rooster in the 
barnyard, all proud of what I'd done. But you have to 
remember that, up until this time, the relationship 
between the posse and me had been adversarial in 
nature. I picked on them... and they tried to make my 
life miserable in return. 

Marge hadn't wanted to stay around and cuddle, so it 
wasn't like I had found love or anything. I still 
wasn't at all used to the idea that I had actually had 
sex with a girl. Two, if you count my sister, and that 
was pretty weird to think about too. So I tried to stay 
in bed, hoping they'd all leave and go somewhere. 

It was not to be. 

Claire barged into my room - that was getting to be an 
annoying routine, it seemed - and I could hear the 
girls out in the hallway tittering, though at least 
they didn't follow her in. 

"GET UP LAZY BONES!" Claire shouted gleefully. I told 
myself that was a good sign. She was happy, and that 
meant I had made Marge, and by extension, the rest of 
the posse, happy too. That was confirmed when Claire 
leaned over and whispered in my blanket-covered ear. 

"You did good last night." 

Her incorrect English notwithstanding, I felt a little 
better, but was still averse to facing a bunch of girls 
who knew what "good" I had done. But you can't deflect 
a fifteen year old girl by saying "I can't possibly 
face all those girls." It just isn't done. Not if 
you're a guy. I did manage to get her to leave by 
promising I'd get up and appear at breakfast. 

I tried to take as long as I could to get a shower and 
get dressed, hoping that they'd all be done eating by 
the time I got there, but they dawdled with their food. 
I was suddenly the star attraction in the Hopkins 
household. I didn't realize how much until I went into 
the kitchen. 

They were all still in their pajamas and, before I 
arrived, were all chattering like Magpies. That stopped 
as soon as I walked in the room. My mother, working at 
the stove, even turned around to see why everybody had 
suddenly gone silent. She saw me and raised an eyebrow, 
but she was used to the girls treating me like a 
pariah, and just turned back around to tend the eggs. 

"Good morning Bobby" said Marge. There was a burst of 
giggles and Mom turned BACK around. This kind of 
behavior did not fit into her expectations. 

I managed a whole one-word sentence. "Hi." 

The girls scooted around to make room for me at the 
table. There was no chair, so I'd have to stand, but 
they made room. My mother's eyebrow rose again. She 
wasn't a stupid woman by any stretch of the 
imagination, but she didn't have enough information to 
arrive at any unhappy conclusions, so eventually she 
shrugged and turned back to the eggs, which were really 
well done by then. 

The silence went on and it might have gotten really 
uncomfortable if my father hadn't walked in. He looked 
around and said "I love Saturdays! Especially when my 
house is filled with beautiful women." He loved to 
compliment the posse and they loved him for it. 

That got giggles and conversation going again and two 
of the girls shared one chair so he could sit down. I 
might be a sex machine but I didn't rate my own chair. 
Other than a lot of interesting looks from all those 
girls, including my sister, breakfast concluded without 
much further ado. 

But those interesting looks were powerful. You know how 
women complain all the time about how men look at them? 
They complain that men undress them with their eyes and 
all that stuff. Right?

Well I can tell you I know what that feels like. All of 
those girls were looking at me like I was one of those 
modern paintings you see where you can't figure out 
what it's actually a picture of. And somebody comes 
along and says "Isn't it wonderful?" And, of course, 
you don't want to sound like an idiot so you come up 
with some lame response like "Yes... so expressive." 
But you still don't understand it, and it's 
particularly upsetting when it appears someone else 
does!

Anyway, the girls were looking at me like that, and 
Large Marge was the one who had said "Isn't it 
wonderful?"

A week ago, if I'd have looked at the girls like that, 
Claire would have been complaining to our mother. Girls 
don't like to be looked at like that.

But what I can't understand is why women complain about 
that. I mean they fix themselves all up with makeup and 
slinky clothes and a nice hairdo and all that, and they 
look all luscious and edible, like they were a piece of 
pie. Come to think of it, maybe that's where the term 
"Cheesecake" came from. 

Anyway, I sort of liked it, because it was obvious none 
of them were actually repelled or anything. Knobby 
Robby looked pretty disgusted, but it didn't seem to 
have anything to do with me exactly. I mean when she 
looked at me she didn't frown, or grimace or anything. 
But, there WAS something different in her eyes when she 
looked at me. She ate like she was miffed about 
something, though. I decided not to worry about it and 
just enjoyed being the center of attention. Even though 
none of them were saying anything to me. 

I didn't have anything to do that morning, and planned 
on another session with Mr. Heinlein's book, but 
cartoons were first. I always watched the Roadrunner 
show on Saturday mornings. I kept hoping Wiley Coyote 
would catch that damn bird. I knew he never would, but 
it was fun to watch him try. Now, later in life, I 
suspect that teenage boys who didn't have access to 
ready pussy, transposed Wiley's efforts on top of their 
own efforts to catch some pussy some day. We never 
thought we actually would back then - get some pussy I 
mean - but there was always hope, and a lot of effort 
went into trying to find the "Acme" device that, when 
you pushed the right button, would catch that giggling 
girl and lay her out naked for you to ravage. 

But again, I digress. 

Anyway, that's why I was sitting on the couch in the 
living room when the posse stampeded out the front 
door. I don't know where they were going, but they were 
excited to get there. 

And Marge stopped by the couch on her way out and 
kissed me on the lips. They were all watching her do 
it, and there was a chorus of "Oooooo's and shrieks and 
giggles that left me beet red. 

It didn't affect Marge at all. She just breathed in my 
face and smiled and said "Thank you Bobby." 

How do girls know how to do that? Produce instant 
boners, I mean. I was rock hard before the front door 
slammed and they left me alone. That was it for 
cartoons. I had to retreat to my room and whack off. 
Remembering Marge's smell, and the feel of those big 
soft tits against my chest had me spurting in record 
time. 

I was four more chapters into "Stranger In A Strange 
Land" when my mother stuck her head in my door and told 
me she and Dad were going garage saleing. Two chapters 
later I heard them come back. Except it wasn't 
'them'... it was just Claire. She stuck her head in the 
door too. 

"Where's Mom and Dad?" she asked. 

"Garage sales" I muttered. 

"Goody!" she yipped. She came in the room. 

She ran across the room and catapulted herself on top 
of me. I barely got the book out of the way. I wasn't 
sure what was going on until she started kissing me. 
Her lips felt really warm for some reason. 

"I'm sooo horny." she breathed into my mouth. "Margie 
told us what happened and I've been horny ever since!" 

I don't know why I thought Claire would only do me 
once. I guess it was the taboo thing, maybe, and she 
had obviously been aware of the risks. She made it 
clear in short order, though, that she was going to do 
it twice... at least. 

Her fingers attacked my shirt like she'd practiced for 
hours, and my belt and zipper too. Then her clothes 
were flying all over the place until we were both 
naked. She straddled me and put her hands on my wrists, 
like she wanted to be in control, but all she did was 
kiss me lots of times until I was straining up against 
her. I could feel her wetness on my stomach as she 
rubbed her slick pussy against it. 

Then she lowered one of her nipples to my mouth. "Do 
what you did to Marge." she panted. I realized that, 
during our first frantic coupling, I hadn't paid any 
attention to her breasts, really. When I sucked on her 
nipple she shuddered and moaned. "Ohhh she was right... 
that feels marvelous." she complimented me. Well it 
felt pretty good to me too, so I went back and forth 
until both of her nipples were sticking out a lot, all 
sharp and pointy. 

Just as suddenly as she'd attacked me in the first 
place she was on her back, pulling me over on top of 
her and her hand found my hardness and pulled. We both 
groaned out loud as I slid into that heat. She was so 
tight - lot's tighter than Marge, who suddenly had 
another reason to have her nickname. Once I got my 
prick good and slick in Claire's weepy pussy, I began 
fucking her fast and hard. 

She let me do that for a while, but then pushed at my 
chest and said "Slow down a little." We both found that 
a little slower tempo caused me to press in harder and 
rub against her more, and that was better. She gave me 
a running commentary on how close her orgasm was, right 
up until she squealed and said "YES!" 

They say that having a mutual orgasm when making love 
is actually quite difficult... that people reach their 
pinnacle at different times naturally, depending on 
what they're thinking about, and the physical 
stimulation that's going on and all that. Some people 
even say what you had for your last meal before you 
make love affects when you get your cookies. I don't 
know about all that. When Claire yelled "YES!" and I 
knew that it was my very own hard cock that had 
produced that "YES!" I spewed like a water balloon that 
has landed on a cactus. My cum splattered all over the 
inside of my sister's pussy and I loved every spurt. 
Knowing that there was nothing preventing a pregnancy 
didn't bother me even a little bit. Not then. I'd feel 
bad about it later, but it was exciting then. You know 
what I mean? 

Like I said earlier, sex energized Claire... made her 
hyper usually. But, once in a while, Claire liked to 
kiss and cuddle after sex. That day was a kiss and 
cuddle day. And to the surprise of two teenagers, we 
found that a teenage cock can get hard again really 
fast. I really soaked her that day. 

It was after our second go-round that she asked me the 
question. 

"So who do you want to do next?" 

"What?" I had enough brains present to act confused. 

"The posse! Who do you want to make love to next?" 

"I'm making love to the whole posse?" I asked, trying 
to put incredulity into my voice. 

"Of course. They're all curious. We can trust you not 
to tell everybody about it. You're elected. Especially 
after the way Marge talked about what you did last 
night." 

"She told you what we did?" I was still trying to play 
the role of un-clued-in brother. 

"She SHOWED us what you did." she said. 

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked. I 
really didn't know what she was talking about. 

"She took off her bottoms when she got back. She SHOWED 
us all your stuff leaking out of her." 

"You guys LOOKED AT HER PUSSY?" I gasped. 

"Of course." she said, like everybody knew teenaged 
girls who'd just had sex showed their sperm-filled 
pussies to all their friends. "How else would we have 
known you actually did it?" 

"I didn't know proof was required." I said dully. Man, 
I was sure glad I wasn't a girl. To have to prove you 
did something like that to all your friends? That would 
be just too weird. 

"Of course proof is required!" said Claire, like I was 
stupid. "The rest of the girls wouldn't agree to do it 
with you unless they all know that everybody ELSE did 
it with you too." She acted like that actually made 
sense or something. 

Then I got this mental image of Marge, sitting on the 
edge of the bed, her PJ bottoms on the floor, her legs 
spread, with those rosy pussy lips gaping open and all 
spermy, while a bunch of girls peered between her legs 
to see the... proof. 

And then Claire and I found out that some teenaged boys 
can go THREE times within a very short time if they're 
properly motivated. 

After that one we were both lying there sweaty and out 
of breath. I looked at the ceiling and said "Suzy." 

I know there are some women reading this who cringed 
just then. I mean you're lying with your lover, who you 
just pumped full of spunk, and you say another woman's 
name. You're thinking that's crude and a bad idea, 
right? But with the posse it was all for one and one 
for all, like the musketeers, and it didn't make Claire 
jealous at all. She did ask why, though. 

"I know my nickname for her hurts her feelings." I 
answered. "Loosey Suzy" was a reference to the shirts 
she wore, but "Loose" in that day and age had another 
context that women didn't appreciate being applied to 
them. And even though I didn't mean it that way, other 
people hearing me call her that wouldn't know that. 
She'd yelled at me a lot of times about that and I knew 
it bothered her. 

And, naturally, since it bothered her, I'd called her 
that every chance I'd gotten. 

But this new kind of relationship with the posse 
couldn't be built on that kind of thing. So I somehow 
felt like I 'owed' it to Suzy to show her that I 
thought she was cute as could be. With typical teenage 
denseness it didn't even occur to me that, after I 
'showed' her how I felt about her, she'd be a lot 
closer to being a "loose woman" than when I'd started. 
It was a philosophical conundrum that I didn't even 
recognize was out there, but which should have been 
obvious. You'll understand that in a minute. 

Claire agreed that I was a turd for calling Suzy what I 
called her, but she didn't get in my face about it. How 
could she, lying there naked next to me with my cum 
soaking into her womb? Anyhow then Claire came up with 
this really stupid plan for me to sneak over to 
Monique's house that night, where the posse was 
convening for their second sleepover of the week. I 
told her I thought that was stupid, because Monique's 
parents wouldn't think it was funny at all if they 
caught me sneaking into their house. She said it didn't 
matter because they were going to the Opera and 
wouldn't be there anyway, but that nobody else needed 
to see me going in. 

Which is why I found myself, on a Saturday night, 
standing outside Monique's bedroom window at eight in 
the evening when my parents thought I was out dragging 
the strip with my buddies. I'd parked the car behind 
their house in the alley where I hoped nobody would see 
it and wonder why my father's car was parked in the 
alley behind the Haskins house. 

The posse was assembled. It was autumn, but the weather 
was nice so it wasn't all that cool, even though it was 
getting pretty dark. I tapped on the window. 

There were noises inside like they thought a burglar 
had just arrived and was going to kill them all. Claire 
came to the window. 

"Good, you're here." she said, like she thought I 
wouldn't come or something. 

Monique appeared beside her. "It's my house!" she 
stated, like she was pissed off at me. I later found 
out that she was upset because Suzy was going to get 
her turn at Monique's house. Monique thought it should 
be HER turn, since it was HER house. Of course I didn't 
know that then, so I didn't know how to respond. 

"Yes, it is." I said. 

She turned to my sister and said "See? Even HE knows 
it!" 

I also didn't know that Claire had approached things 
like it was all HER idea that Suzy was next. She didn't 
give me any credit... or blame, come to think of it... 
for choosing Suzy over anybody else. She had just 
announced that Suzy would lose her virginity that 
night. It had caused a sensation because all the girls 
thought, for some reason, that virginities would only 
be lost at Claire's house. So the remaining virgins had 
been all relaxed and under the assumption that their 
hymens were secure until the next sleepover at 
Claire's. Then, when Claire made her announcement all 
unexpected like, and Monique found out it wasn't going 
to be her, she got jealous! Who understands how girls 
think? 

Anyway, I didn't know all that then, so I was just 
standing in the Haskins' back yard wondering if the 
neighbors had seen me yet and called the Police about 
the peeping Tom at 3314 Maple Street, saying things 
like "and could you hurry please, there are a bunch of 
poor defenseless girls there!" 

But no S.W.A.T. team showed up and Monique told me to 
go to the back door, where I was ushered in like an 
escaped convict they were trying to hide. I got 
"shhh'ed too, even though the only people in the house 
were the girls. Then I was suddenly standing in 
Monique's bedroom, in the midst of six girls and being 
'examined' again. Well, five girls, anyway. Roberta 
wasn't looking at me. She was looking everywhere else 
instead. 

Suzy whined. "Are you SURE it has to be me next?" 

Talk about hitting a guy where it hurts. Suzy was 
obviously not all that thrilled about getting more 
acquainted with me than she already was. I was stung. 

"It doesn't have to be anybody's turn." I groused. "I'm 
doing you all a favor, after all." 

Bad move. 

Now I was standing in the middle of six HOSTILE girls. 
Robby WAS looking at me now, and I knew that look from 
pains I still remembered from the past. 

"I didn't mean it like that." I mumbled. 

Claire took charge. "Casey Kasem's Top 40 is on. Let's 
go listen to it." she said, with authority. She had to 
add "Not you." to Suzy as Suzy tried to follow them out 
the door. 

Monique tried again. "Do they have to do it in MY bed?" 

Claire pushed her toward the door. "We'll change the 
sheets when they're done." 

And, just like that, I was alone with Loosey Suzy in 
Monique's extremely pink bedroom. 

Suzy was a fairly normal looking girl. She had brown 
hair, and brown eyes. Her hair hung straight on the 
sides of her face and almost touched her shoulders. I'd 
seen her wear it in a pony tail, but usually it was 
just hanging there, like it was tonight. She had on 
jeans, which, for the first time, I noticed were 
hugging nice round hips. She also had on her obligatory 
loose sweat shirt, which made her look flat-chested. 
She didn't have a lot on top. She looked like a 
thousand other girls until she smiled. She had a wide 
mouth and her teeth were blindingly white, and her 
smile made you want to smile with her. She was just 
standing there, staring at me. 

"I'm not going to do this." she said quite firmly. The 
gauntlet had been thrown down. 

"OK" I said, like I didn't care. At that point I 
actually didn't really care that much. This was weird 
for me too. "So what do you want to do instead?" 

I don't think she was prepared for me to be so 
agreeable. She shifted from one foot to the other. "Why 
don't you just leave?" she asked. 

"I could do that." I said. "But you'll get ragged on by 
the girls." 

"I don't care what they think." she said. She didn't 
sound very convincing. 

"OK" I said amiably. "No biggie." I turned and started 
for the door. 

"Wait!" she said. I turned around. "Was that really... 
your stuff? On Marge? Last night?" 

Now that seemed like a strange thing to ask. 

"Yes." I said. What else could I say? 

"Oh." she said. I didn't know what that meant either. 
Then she asked "Would you really just leave if I told 
you to?" 

"Yeah." I answered. What did she think I'd do? "If 
that's what you wanted." I added. 

"I thought you didn't care what I thought about 
anything." she said. I got it then. She was trying to 
start a fight. She didn't want to lose her virginity. 
Not with me anyway. 

I decided that, if nothing else, I'd do what I 
originally intended to do, and that was be nice to her. 
You know, to make up for all those times I'd teased 
her. 

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, 
calling you Loosey Suzy. It's just a nickname, OK? It 
doesn't mean anything. It doesn't have anything to do 
with your boobs, and it doesn't mean I think you're... 
easy or something." 

If I expected gratitude on her part I was in error. 
"What's wrong with my boobs?" she said, her voice 
rising a little. 

"Nothing's wrong with your boobs." I said. "I've never 
even seen them. Why would I think there's something 
wrong with them?" 

"They're so small." she said. "I know you think they're 
small." Her jaw was sticking out. She was still trying 
to start a fight. 

"Even if I thought they were small, that's not bad. 
They're all different sizes, right? Some are small, 
some are big. What's the difference? And who cares what 
I think anyway?" I didn't want a fight. 

"Boys don't like girls with small boobs." she insisted. 

"You don't know much about boys." I said. "I like all 
different kinds of boobs." 

"Marge said you liked her boobs." said Suzy. "She said 
you slobbered all over them." 

Somehow I didn't think "slobbered" was the word Marge 
had used. She had been way too happy when my mouth was 
on them. 

"Hers were fine." I said. "But I bet yours are fine 
too." It wasn't quite suave, or debonair, or even 
clever, but I was fighting for my life here. 

"You're just saying that because you want to get in my 
pants." she said. "If I let you, then I really WILL be 
loose! And for what? You don't REALLY like me." 

What was all this "Do you like me" stuff? It occurred 
to me that being 'liked' was somehow an important part 
of all this sex stuff for girls. 

The fact was that what she'd said wasn't true. I DID 
like Suzy. I mean she was really good at Math and she 
always had the coolest science projects. I'd just never 
spent much time getting to know her, you know? So how 
do you convince someone you like them when the only 
thing they know is that you tease them all the time? 

I walked over to her and took her face in my hands and 
I kissed her. I made it a tender kiss. I didn't push 
real hard or try to stick my tongue in her mouth or 
anything like that. I just kissed her and tried to 
enjoy it. It wasn't hard. She had nice lips, even if 
all she did was stand there while I did it. 

"If I didn't like you, could I kiss you like that?" I 
asked, when it was over. Her hands were hanging at her 
sides and she hadn't moved at all while I kissed her. 
Her cheeks were pink, though, and her eyes were wide. 

"Nobody's ever kissed me before." she said. 

"Was it all that bad?" I asked. 

She thought about it. "No." then "Why do you tease me 
so much?" 

"I don't know. I tease all the girls, I guess." I said. 
She was still standing close to me. "I probably 
shouldn't tease so much... huh?" I asked. 

"No, you shouldn't." she agreed. "Kiss me again." 

I wasn't ready for that. I mean she really surprised 
me. But I was willing, and this time I put my arms 
around her. I pressed a little harder too, moving my 
lips around on hers and suddenly I felt her hands on my 
waist. They weren't doing anything... they were just 
resting there, but at least they weren't hanging by her 
sides. I was paying so much attention to her lips that 
I didn't pay any attention to the feel of her body 
against mine. That changed when I broke that kiss. I 
held on to her and then I felt her hard body pressing 
into me. She wasn't skinny, exactly, she was just 
mostly muscle. She felt good against me. She licked her 
lips. 

"There are other ways to kiss too." I said. 

"I know that." she said. She didn't pull away. 

"So... do you maybe want to try that?" I asked. 

"Do you really stop whenever a girl says to stop?" she 
asked. 

"Absolutely." I said, my voice firm. 

"Well, maybe some kissing wouldn't be so bad." she 
said. 

Man, oh man, did she embrace 'some kissing'. Once she 
opened her lips and I touched just her teeth with my 
tongue, her hands moved from my hips to my back and 
then I found out those slim muscles of hers had some 
strength in them. She LIKED to kiss. So I gave her 
everything I had in the kiss department. 

Within two minutes, I bet, I had gone through all the 
mouth kisses I knew. During stops to breathe I nibbled 
her ear and she craned her neck, so I kissed that too. 
My hands slid around on her back and I realized she 
wasn't wearing a bra under that sweatshirt. I felt my 
dick start to harden up. She might not have been kissed 
before, but she was a quick learner, I'll tell you 
that. 

"Stop!" she said. 

I pulled back, still holding her, and looked at her. 
She was testing me. I kept looking at her. 

"Is that how you kissed Marge last night?" she asked. 
She was breathing deep. 

"I guess so." I said. "It's different with every girl." 

"Oh." she seemed surprised. "What else did you do with 
Marge? Other than... you know." she amended her 
question. "I don't want to do that." she reiterated. 

I began to understand that Suzy wanted to do... 
something... but didn't want to volunteer to do... 
anything. She wanted to be convinced, or something like 
that, to do these new things. I've met women since then 
who were like that. They felt better about themselves 
morally if they didn't volunteer, but were... convinced 
instead. 

I didn't quite grasp that concept back then, with Suzy, 
but some instinct told me to keep going until she said 
"stop" again. Maybe it was her insistence that she 
didn't want to do "that", which by default... left 
everything else open. And I knew that she'd seen the 
evidence of what Marge and I did, and that Marge had at 
least told them that I sucked her nipples. 

"I touched her in some places." I said. That seemed 
pretty innocuous and not too threatening. 

"Like where?" asked Suzy. 

I slid my hands down below the hem of her sweatshirt 
and then up, onto her naked back. "I did this." I said, 
sliding my hands around on her smooth, tight skin. Then 
I kissed her again, while I rubbed her back some more. 
My fingers went down and slipped under the waistband of 
her jeans, touching her panties. She stiffened, and I 
pulled them right back out and caressed her back some 
more. When I broke that kiss I said. "And I touched her 
breasts too." 

There it was. It was an unspoken request to touch 
Suzy's breasts, which she thought were too small, and 
which she was ashamed of and hid under those thick 
loose shirts. 

"I'm scared." she said. 

I kissed her a couple of short soft kisses. "I won't 
hurt you Suzy." I said. 

"I know THAT." she said. "I'm scared you'll think my 
boobs are ugly. 

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" I 
suggested. 

"If you laugh at me I'll hate you forever." she said. 
She meant it too, even if she was still holding on to 
me. 

"I can't imagine laughing at your breasts." I said 
softly. 

She did push me away then. She turned her back to me 
and in a convulsive, quick movement pulled her shirt up 
and over her head. It left her hair all mussed, and 
that looked really good against her bare back. She 
crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the 
floor. She didn't want to turn around. 

I went up to her and pushed the hair off her neck and 
kissed it with some more little soft kisses. She rolled 
her head sideways to give me more room and I slid my 
hands around her waist to her stomach. Her elbows came 
back and I realized her hands were covering her breasts 
now. I slid my hands slowly up until they bumped into 
hers. I applied just enough pressure to let her know 
that I wanted her to move her hands. 

"Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned. She still sounded scared. 

"I know they're beautiful." I whispered into her neck. 

She let me push her hands off her breasts and I covered 
her slim mams with my own hands as I kept kissing her 
neck. I felt her nipples instantly. They were huge. 
Those nipples were perched on mere swells of breast 
flesh. I was quite sure that some twelve year olds had 
more there than she did, but her nipples were truly 
impressive. They were thick and already stuck out as 
far as Claire's had after I'd sucked on them for 
fifteen minutes. I rubbed my hands across those nipples 
gently and she leaned back into me. 

She still didn't want to turn around. I got this idea 
and got to my knees, so my face was level with the 
small of her back. I kissed her there too, and then, 
grasping her hips, began to turn her around. Her 
stomach came into view and I kissed all around her 
belly button, but didn't look up at her breasts. Her 
hands were covering them again. I stuck my tongue in 
her navel and then started kissing my way up until I 
was kissing the flat skin between her hands. 

"Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned again. Now she sounded only 
uncertain, but not afraid. 

I kissed over to her left hand and made it clear I 
wanted her to move it. Ever so slowly she dragged it 
away from my lips and I kissed each centimeter of skin 
she uncovered. Then that nipple was suddenly free and 
her hand dropped. I kissed all around it first, and 
then closed my lips over it. It was as big as her 
little finger, and I was able to get it all the way 
inside my teeth as I sucked. 

"Ohhh Bobby!" she sighed a third time. This time there 
wasn't any fear in her voice at all. 

I felt her other hand fall on my shoulder and 
immediately kissed my way across to the other nipple. 
There wasn't anything to squeeze or hold with my hands, 
so I put them on her rock hard butt cheeks and just 
worked those nipples for a while. She moaned and her 
hands went behind my head and pulled and I knew she was 
having a good time. She might not have much there, but 
what she had was very sensitive. 

Eventually I worked my way back up to her mouth, 
unbuttoning my shirt at the same time so that when I 
kissed her lips I could press my chest against those 
nipples. She swayed, rubbing them against me and her 
hands went all fluttery on my back. 

We broke to breathe again and I asked "You want me to 
stop now?" 

Her eyes got a glint in them that suggested I should 
shut up, and that when she was ready to tell me to stop 
I wouldn't have any trouble whatsoever in comprehending 
that. All that with just a look! I went back to my 
plan.

"I did some other things with Marge." I said. "Other 
than... you know." That wasn't technically true, at 
least not what I had in mind to do to Suzy. What I had 
in mind I had done to Claire, not Marge, but I wasn't 
going to tell Suzy that. 

"What things?" she asked, her voice kind of dreamy. 

"I kissed her... other places." I said. 

Suzy wasn't stupid. I'd already kissed her everywhere 
on her body that wasn't covered up by her jeans. 

"Ohhh I don't know..." she said. The uncertainty was 
back in her voice. 

"I think you'd like it." I suggested. "I'll stay 
dressed if that would make you feel better." 

That appealed to her. Me dressed wasn't so scary. 

"Maybe just a little." she said. 

I took her to the bed and laid her down on it. Her 
hands came back to her breasts and I took them away. 
"They're beautiful Suzy." I said. She blushed but I got 
my first of those brilliant smiles of hers. 

"Really?" she asked. She wanted to hear that again. 

"They made me hard as a rock." I said. 

Her eyes darted to the front of my pants, where there 
was a lump plainly visible. I think it was the fact 
that it was still securely a prisoner in my pants that 
made her able to look at it and not get nervous. 

My hands went to the front of her jeans. I went very 
slowly, undoing the button and then unzipping them. 
That put a little pressure on her mons and she wiggled. 
Her eyes were really big again and she was breathing 
hard again. But when I pulled at the waistband she 
lifted her hips off the bed. Her jeans were so tight 
that I couldn't get a grip on them, other than the 
waistband, and they wouldn't go down past her hips that 
way. She finally helped. When her panties slid down 
with the jeans, though, she scrabbled for them, pulling 
them back up. With my face right over those panties I 
was able to smell her, and she was turned on. 

I started with the little kisses again, on her abdomen 
and stomach, and slid my hands along her legs, which 
were tightly closed. I let my lips stray onto her 
panties and her hands fluttered again, like she 
couldn't decide what to do with them. When I pressed my 
lips as far down between her thighs as I could get them 
with her legs closed, she moaned again. I crawled up on 
the bed and put my knees outside her calves as I 
continued kissing the front of her panties. I licked 
them too, until they were wet with both her juices and 
my own saliva. 

I kissed my way back up her body, stopping at those 
nipples again and lay down beside her to kiss her lips 
some more. She rolled over to face me and, while we 
traded tongues I played with her butt cheeks. When I 
slid my hand inside her panties she just wiggled more 
and kissed harder. So, afraid any minute she'd yell 
"STOP!" I began to work my hand around in front. 

She kept her legs tightly closed, but she didn't say 
anything close to "stop" and I was able to pet her a 
little bit, getting one finger between the upper end of 
her pussy lips, where it was hot and slick with her 
juices. I couldn't tell you how long it took, but at 
some point her legs began to relax and she rolled onto 
her back. Then, with her tongue stuck firmly into my 
mouth, she spread her legs. 

I was able to get my middle finger into her pussy and I 
started finger-fucking her with slow strokes. Knowing 
where I'd seen Marge's clitty, I explored and found 
Suzy's. She jerked when I put my slippery fingertip on 
it and started playing with it. What was more 
interesting was that she stopped kissing me and lay 
there, her mouth open, taking in panting breaths, her 
eyes tightly closed, as I masturbated her, slipping 
another finger in with my first one. 

She was tight and she winced, but she didn't open her 
eyes and she didn't yell "STOP!" I took that wince to 
mean she still had her cherry, and took the other 
finger out, playing with her clitty until she writhed 
on the bed. She had liked having her nipples sucked so 
much that I thought that might help, so I leaned over 
and took the one nearest to me into my mouth. 

That did it. She tensed up and her legs closed on my 
hand again and she went "EEEEEEEEEE!" in this whine 
that made my dick leak in my pants. All I could do now 
was wiggle my finger, because my hand was trapped, so I 
did that until she said "OK, stop." 

It wasn't like a real demand. It was more like she was 
done and needed to take a break. I pulled my hand out 
and she winced again, but then she opened her eyes and 
rolled her head toward me as I lay my sticky hand on 
her stomach. She looked like she needed a kiss, so I 
did that and she kissed me back, but it wasn't a hot 
kiss or anything. It was just a nice warm one - kind of 
quick, but she was breathing really hard. 

"You OK?" I asked when that was done. 

She nodded. "I've done that... but... it never... felt 
that good." She was panting. 

I'd gotten a lot farther with Suzy than I thought I 
would. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." I said, kissing her 
shoulder. 

"It wasn't... so bad." she was getting her breath back 
now. 

"I think I stretched your cherry a little bit." I said. 

"Was that what you wanted to do?" she asked. "Is that 
what you did to Marge?" 

I remembered I'd wanted to lick her pussy, but had 
gotten sort of carried away by getting her off. "Well, 
no, but you looked like you were having fun, so I 
didn't do the other." 

"What was the other?" she asked. 

I didn't want to scare her. She had come a long way. "I 
wanted to kiss you... without your panties on." 

Her eyes looked like she had smoke in them or 
something, kind of half closed. "You'd do that?" 

"Sure" I said. "It's fun." I took my hand from her 
stomach and sucked in on the finger I'd brought her off 
with. "You taste good." 

Her eyes got big, but then closed down again almost 
immediately. 

"That might be OK." she said, her voice soft. 

I didn't give her time to change her mind. I got up and 
grabbed the waistband of her panties and she lifted her 
hips as I slid them down. She had fluffy wispy hair. 

She covered her eyes with her hands. "This is so 
embarrassing." she moaned. 

"Don't be silly. You're a beautiful, sexy girl." I 
said. "I love looking at you. I'm hard as a rock right 
now." 

That got her hands off her eyes. They were big again. 
She had lifted her head and I kept my eyes on hers as I 
put gentle pressure on her knees, spreading them. Then 
I kept eye contact as I lowered my face, getting closer 
and closer. She watched me until I stuck out my tongue 
and found the split I had recently vacated with my 
finger. Then her eyes closed again and her head flopped 
back down on the bed. 

Suzy had a hot pussy, but she didn't want it to be hot. 
She loved having me play with her, but didn't want to 
be the one to initiate things. I still think to this 
day it's because I called her Loosey Suzy. She didn't 
want me to think she was a slut. But it was obvious 
that she wanted to feel that tingle again, so I licked 
and sucked, but I wasn't doing it right or something 
because even though she made perfectly wonderful 
sounds, she didn't tense up and squeal like she had 
before. Finally my tongue actually got tired and 
started aching. I lifted my face and her head came back 
up. 

"My tongue hurts." I said. What else could I say. "I 
mean it's been tense for a while." 

Her eyes were smoky again. "Didn't you show Marge 
your... thing?" she asked. 

"Well, yes..." I started to remind her she didn't want 
to see it, but then stopped. Maybe she did. "You want 
to see what you do to me?" 

She nodded fractionally. I got off the bed. My shirt 
was still on, though unbuttoned, and I dropped it to 
the floor. Then I pushed my pants and underwear down 
together, kicking off my shoes. I still had on socks, 
but didn't want to take them off, even though I thought 
I'd look pretty stupid dressed only in socks. I just 
stood up. Mr. Happy was pointing right at her and he 
really was stiff as a board. 

I moved closer. She was staring at it like it was made 
of gold or diamonds or something. "Marge touched it." I 
suggested. I was catching on that if Marge had done 
something, then it was OK for her to do it to. Except 
for actually fucking, of course. 

Her hand came out and she grasped the shaft between her 
thumb and two fingers. 

"It's warm" she said. 

"Marge said it felt hot inside her." I said. I'd said 
it before I thought and wished I hadn't as soon as it 
was out of my mouth. 

Suzy looked up at me. "I want to, but I'm scared." 

Wow. Suzy actually admitted she wanted to do something. 
Maybe things were looking up. I happened on a line that 
has served me well for many years. "You want to maybe 
try just a little bit? I can stop if it hurts or 
anything." 

She swallowed. "I really liked it when you... what you 
did before." 

That wasn't too helpful. "You mean with my finger or my 
tongue?" I asked for clarification. 

"Yes." She wasn't in a clarifying mood, apparently. So 
I pressed my case. 

"I really think you'd like this too." I suggested. 
"Marge seemed to." 

"Marge LOVED it." said Suzy. "She wouldn't stop talking 
about it." Suzy seemed to be thinking, so I just stood 
there. She took her hand away and, for some reason, 
looked at her fingers, like she expected to see them 
stained dark or something. She looked back at me. 
"Maybe just a little bit. But you have to stop if I say 
so, OK?" 

"Deal." I said. But I didn't move. I didn't have any 
rubbers yet. But I didn't want to bring that up. Suzy's 
pussy looked like it would feel really good wrapped 
around my dick. 

Finally I crawled back up on the bed. Suzy spread her 
legs without any help from me and I crawled between 
them. She put her hand on my chest as my dick got 
within a couple of inches from her pussy lips. The fear 
was back in her eyes.

"Why don't you hold it?" I suggested. "Rub yourself 
with it a little." 

She liked that idea, and this time, when she grasped my 
dick, it was more firmly. I eased it forward and let 
her swab it around between those slick lips. She bit 
her lower lip and closed her eyes again. I let my back 
sag and it poked into her a little, but only a little. 
It was lodged in the opening enough that she had to 
pull hard to rub it up over her clitty. 

I pulled back a little so it would be easier for her, 
and then sagged back. I sort of poked her pussy opening 
with it, not pushing hard or anything, and pulling back 
so I could poke it again. I did that a few more times, 
but I wasn't really getting anywhere. My back was 
beginning to ache from the strain of holding myself up. 
To distract myself I dropped my head and sucked one of 
her nipples again. 

Suzy's nipples were tied directly to her cum button I 
think. If I'd have pinched them while I was licking her 
pussy I think she'd have cum. The effect sucking on 
them had was to make her pussy jump up off the bed. 

My cock tried to stop her, but what happened was it 
popped her cherry. I felt maybe two inches of my cock 
slide into her. She was hot in there. 

"OOOWWwww!!" she squealed. I felt her hands lock onto 
my shoulders. I lifted my head and her eyes were wide 
open. I froze. She knew I hadn't done anything on 
purpose, which was good. Then she said "That hurts 
Bobby." 

"You want me to take it out?" I asked. My heart wasn't 
in it. 

"I don't know." she answered. 

That was kind of strange. If something hurts you stop 
doing it... right? 

"It feels really weird." she said. "It hurts, but not 
in a bad way." 

I didn't understand that either. "Maybe I'd better take 
it out." I said. I started to withdraw and her hands 
clenched my shoulders. Hard!. 

"No don't move!" she said. "It hurts." 

My back was killing me now. "I have to move Suzy, my 
back is killing me." I explained. I felt my back weaken 
and I sagged a little and went back in about as far as 
I'd pulled out. 

"Wait!" she said. "It's not so bad now." 

Neither of us were thinking about the fact Mr. Happy's 
head was bigger than his body, or shaft. It was the 
head that had stretched her torn hymen and caused most 
of the pain. But once the head was past her cherry, 
there was less pressure. 

I couldn't stay completely still. I sagged a little 
more, driving another inch into her. Her pupils 
dilated. 

"I can't help it," I moaned. "My back is killing me." 

"Just lie down on me," she said. From her vantage 
point, it probably looked like I was doing a pushup. So 
letting down onto her wouldn't really move anything 
right? 

Wrong. I let myself fall down on her and, in the 
process, filled her pussy with most of my cock. 

She let out a strangled "whoof" as my weight settled on 
her and I realized that a lot more of my cock suddenly 
felt nice and warm and snug. 

My face was right above hers. I tried to look sorry. 
"I'm really sorry Suzy." I said. "I didn't think it 
would go in more." I started to push myself off of her 
and her hands wrapped around my back. 

"DON'T MOVE!" she ordered. 

I felt the strangest sensation along my cock. It was 
like it was being squeezed.

"Did you do something?" I asked. 

She nodded. "It feels better now. But it's so strange. 
I have muscles I didn't know I had until there was 
something to push them against." 

"What should I do?" I asked. I really didn't know what 
I SHOULD do. 

"Kiss me," she said. 

OK, that was easy. I kissed her and she slipped her 
tongue in my mouth and the kiss got better and better 
and all of a sudden I was sort of rocking on top of 
her. I realized her hands were on my back, making me 
move. I didn't move very much, but it was enough that I 
could feel my penis moving in her pussy ever so little.
 
The kiss broke. She looked at me and said "Can you put 
any more in?" 

I got my toes dug in and pushed with them. My prick 
slid the rest of the way in her and I felt the tip bump 
into something rubbery. Suzy's mouth opened and she 
gulped in air and suddenly her hips pushed at me. 

"Ohhhhhhhh," she moaned. 

"Better?" I asked. 

She nodded furiously and her hands pulled again and 
before I knew it I was fucking Suzy Rumbell Like we'd 
been doing it for years. 

With Large Marge it had been a tumultuous fast paced 
and violent thing. But with Suzy it was much more 
sedate. It's not like we didn't do anything, but what 
we did was what I'd call caressing. My prick caressed 
her pussy inside her, and our bodies caressed each 
other's on the outside. That made it easy to kiss, and 
we kissed almost the whole time I was moving inside 
her. 

I also learned that if I went in until the tip of my 
cock touched that spongy thing up inside her, and then 
I rubbed my hips back and forth, she'd have that orgasm 
I couldn't give her with just my mouth. And even her 
orgasms were more gentle in a way. She tensed up, like 
she had when I fingerfucked her, and she made that 
little "EEEEEEE" sound each time, but she didn't flop 
all over the place like Marge had.

After the second time she tensed up and whined through 
a nice cum, she admitted that she was one of the girls 
who had listened at the door as Marge got her cherry 
picked. "And I heard her voice and it sounded like she 
was in pain, but now I understand.”

Suzy never got tired of having orgasms either. But, 
freshly deflowered as she was, she got sore. I didn't 
know it until she broke a kiss and said "Margie showed 
us... what you did inside her. I want that too."

That was the first time she'd actually asked for 
something, and what she asked for was my seed. I'd just 
been having fun stroking her and watching her face work 
up to that tensed up "EEEEEEE" I was beginning to love 
so much. But when she actually asked me to cum in her 
it was like she had flipped a switch. All it took was 
four or five more strokes and I pushed in, banged 
against that rubbery place and felt streams of soothing 
cum flush through my cock and into her.

Her response was "MMmmm I can feel it. It IS hot." 
That's when she told me she was getting sore, and asked 
me to stop. I wasn't all that tired, really, because 
I'd been lying on top of her the whole time. But I 
rolled off of her to let her breathe easier. She looked 
up at the ceiling and said "I guess you think I'm a 
slut now."

I didn't quite roll back on top of her, but I rolled 
onto her mostly and put my face right in hers. "Never!" 
I said.

"But I let you do all kinds of nasty things to me." she 
said.

"You're Suzy Rumbell. You're beautiful and sexy and 
I'll take your boobs over Dolly Parton's any day of the 
week. And if you want me to stop calling you Loosey 
Suzy I will."

"I don't know." she said. "If you don't call me that 
you'll call me something else and that might be even 
worse.

Which is how Suzy got her new nickname. I called her 
"H.M." after that. Only she and I knew that stood for 
Hot Mamma. I told her she was hot, and that I wished I 
was her baby so I could suck those fabulous nipples 
whenever I got hungry.

She cried, and then she kissed me some more. When she 
left the room to go find the rest of the posse her 
smile was so wide I thought her face just had to hurt.


CHAPTER FIVE
------------

After Suzy my relationship with the posse changed. I 
had now been intimate with, from their perspective, two 
of them. Those two had a much different relationship 
with me than they had in the past. Suzy and I had our 
little secret in her new name and she reveled in it. 
Sometimes she'd come crashing into the house with all 
the rest of them and then stop in front of me, whether 
I was standing or sitting, watching TV or making a 
peanut butter sandwich and she'd say "What's my name?" 

When she asked, I played hard to get. Usually I'd say 
something like "What are you talking about? You know 
your name." of "Gee, I can't remember. Doesn't it have 
something to do with being skinny?" Her attitude toward 
that was to patiently ask the same question again until 
I at least used "H.M." in a sentence. I'd finally say 
something like "I give up H.M. What IS your name 
anyway?" 

And she invariably grinned that big beautiful smile. If 
there was no one else around I might even get a kiss. 
With Marge it was more subtle. If she passed me in the 
hall she "bumped" into me, almost always with her 
chest. She'd goose me too, front or rear; it didn't 
make any difference to her. But she was careful about 
it. 

Claire had made some rule that nobody could do it with 
me again until everybody had done it once. I heard 
about that rule from one of the girls later, but I 
didn't know it then. But I did now something was up 
because both girls who'd let me into them showed plenty 
of evidence that they wanted to do it again... except 
they wouldn't. 

I'll give you an example. Marge was in the house one 
night. She and Claire were doing homework together. 
Marge was good at Spanish, and Claire didn't even know 
how to say "No" in Spanish, if you get my drift. Marge 
went to the bathroom, and on her way back darted into 
my room, where I was lying on the bed doing Geometry. 
She grabbed my cock through my jeans and said "I miss 
that little sucker." Then she skipped away from me as I 
reached for her. 

"Hey, I'm here for you." I said. That was one of the 
new and popular phrases in the psycho babble wars about 
who was OK and who wasn't OK and why it mattered that 
everybody had to BE OK. 

She lit up. "You want to do it again?" she asked. 

"Oh yeah." I said, suavely, of course. "Every time you 
touch me I get all hard and ready to play." 

That's what girls want to hear... right? 

"Ohhhh, poor baby" she said in baby talk. "I feel so 
sorry for you. Enjoy your math." Then she just walked 
out. No kiss, no cuddle, no stinky finger... no 
nothing! 

And another afternoon, when they had all come to our 
house after school and were getting ready to go out 
somewhere I snuck up behind Suzy when she was alone and 
reached around her to put my hands over her breasts. 
She still wore oversized shirts, and she still went 
braless. I pinched those lovely big nipples of hers and 
she slapped my hands away. She turned around and said 
"What's my name Bobby?" in this soft voice that made my 
dick spring to attention. 

I didn't mess with her that time. I said "It's H.M., 
which stands for Hot Mamma and I'm hungry right now." 

She said "I love it when you do that." and then 
followed that up with "Gotta go. Go make yourself a 
snack or something." And she turned around and flounced 
off. 

I mean I was getting SERIOUS mixed signals, and I 
didn't have the faintest idea what they meant. 

It was another three weeks before the posse came back 
to our house for another sleepover. I knew our parents 
were going to be at a movie that night, and I had 
strong suspicions that Claire would tell me I was going 
to get to pick another cherry. 

But she didn't. At supper I casually mentioned "So I 
suppose I won't be able to get any peace and quiet 
tonight because your posse is going to tear up the 
house again." 

My mother said "Bobby, don't tease your sister. She's 
lucky to have all those friends. Besides, aren't you 
going out with your friends?" 

That was a problem. I liked my friends just fine, and 
spending time with them too. But if you weighed getting 
a piece of ass against hanging out with Phil and 
Dennis... guess what won? 

But there were certain parental expectations about 
their children's behavior, and the last thing I wanted 
to do was arouse any suspicions. "Well, sure, but I may 
actually want to sleep too." 

Mom just turned to Claire and said "Try to keep things 
to a dull roar tonight honey, OK?" 

Claire, not to be outdone, responded "He couldn't 
possibly hear us over that dinosaur snore of his 
anyway." She smiled sweetly at me. 

After supper I tried again when Claire and I were 
alone. "Don't you... uh... need me tonight?" I asked. 

She faced me and got right up next to me until her 
breasts touched my chest. "I'll tell you when I need 
you. Go play with your friends." 

I wanted to say "I'd rather play with YOUR friends." 
but I knew that would give her too much power over me. 
I might have been horny, but I wasn't stupid. Instead, 
I said "OK" and tweaked one of her nipples. She jumped 
back yelling at me, but I was ahead on points so I 
didn't care.

In fact I had a good time with Phil and Dennis, who 
were glad to have me back. Since I'd been spending time 
with the girls, that took away from time with the guys. 
Of course I didn't tell them that. First off they'd 
have never believed me, and second they'd try to horn 
in and get some of the action themselves. I just told 
them I'd gotten in trouble for doing something to 
Claire and had gotten grounded.

In fact, I had actually given up on the idea that I'd 
get to play with another girl that night. When I got 
back home Mom and Dad were getting ready to go to bed. 
I got the impression from their comments that it had 
apparently been a romantic comedy of some sort that 
adults were attracted to, and Mom was all giddy, 
kissing my father a lot. When she said good night and 
dragged him off I had a pretty good idea what THEY were 
doing in their bedroom. And even though it was weird to 
think about my parents making the two-backed beast, I 
was a little grumpy that they were probably having fun 
while I lay in my own bed horny. 

But the girls stayed in Claire's room. I even listened 
in at the holes in the wall, but didn't hear anything 
suggesting they were even thinking about me, much less 
drawing straws or anything like that to see who got to 
expand her sexual horizons. I did hear squeals and 
something about a killer cute outfit and makeup, but 
then they always talked about cute outfits and makeup. 

So I just happened to be lying on my bed, naked, stiff 
cock in hand, getting ready to solve the problem, when 
Unique Monique slipped into my room.

I suddenly had a pretty good idea what that cute outfit 
was they had been talking about. I didn't know where 
Monique got it. Back in those days there weren't stores 
that sold slinky lingere to teenaged girls. All us guys 
knew it existed, because we saw it in Playboy, but you 
never saw it in a store some place waiting to be sold.

But she HAD found it somewhere, and I was extremely 
appreciative that she had. It was cream colored, like 
coffee with a lot of cream in it, and it set off her 
dark skin and darker hair beautifully. She had makeup 
on too, and somehow it made her cheekbones stand out. 
The outfit consisted of a pair of panties and bra that 
looked like it had been knitted by some lonely old 
Grandmother somewhere. It was purely for looks. The 
yarn or whatever it was made of formed a net, with 
holes big enough to stick your finger through. The 
whole effect was like a bikini, but it didn't hide 
anything at all. The contrast was really amazing. She 
was in the dark part of the room - I only had my 
reading light on - but the material was light colored 
and everything else about her was dark.
 
She stepped closer and I saw that her nipples were 
poking out through two of the holes in that net. They 
were dark too. I had seen pictures of dark nipples 
before, but all the real ones I'd seen were pink or 
brown. Monique's were almost black. I found out about 
ten minutes later that she had some dark lipstick on 
them, but they were still the darkest nipples I'd ever 
seen.
 
My eyes strayed down her flat belly to the bottoms of 
the outfit. Monique's pussy hair was dark too. It was 
thick, and it was poking out between those strands of 
cream colored yarn. All in all she looked... fabulous. 
I had a sudden thought that she looked more like a 
Playboy Bunny than Miss September did. 

She hadn't said a word yet, but really, she didn't have 
to. Just appearing in my room dressed like that was a 
silent shout that I was going to get incredibly lucky. 
Her gaze went from my face to the cock in my hand and 
back again. 

Monique wasn't as easy to read as some of the other 
girls. Her face didn't show as much about what she was 
thinking. But those nipples were hard, and she stepped 
closer and closer toward me. 

What could I say to her to communicate how beautiful 
and sexy I thought she was? She deserved poetry, which 
I hated with the same passion that all teenaged boys 
hated it. But I knew that women who looked like this 
deserved poetry.

 "You look like a poem." I blurted.
 
"You look like a naughty boy." she said right back, 
looking back at my hand, which was now just holding my 
rock hard prick. I had been moving it up and down, but 
when she came into the room I froze. Now, for some 
unaccountable reason, I jerked my hand away from my 
bone. It wobbled a little bit and then settled into 
it's anti-aircraft position. When I was about thirteen 
I used to lie there just looking at my stiff prick, 
pointing up like the guns I saw in old war movies. I 
was impressed back then.
 
Now, as I looked at it, it just looked like a penis. I 
hoped she was impressed.

 "Only naughty boys masturbate." said Monique. She had 
an alto voice that, even in normal conversation, caught 
the ear. It was mellow and smooth. She could scream and 
squeal with the best of them, but she seemed more 
cultured than the others, like her parents were better 
educated or whatever. She was a good student and got 
all A's.
 
I was so struck by her appearance that I didn't think 
about what I was saying. My mind just supplied words 
and I said them.

"All boys masturbate." I said. 

"Really?" she commented. "That's not good." 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Cause... if it gets all soft it won't be any good to 
me." 

Man, she was good. She was a virgin, or claimed to be, 
but her actions were those of a woman with LOTS of 
experience. 

"It's beautiful" she said, stepping right next to the 
bed.

 Well, it had been called "pretty" and now "beautiful". 
I would have hoped for "Studly" or maybe "Bullish", or 
even "Wow, it's BIG". But, coming from her lips, 
"beautiful" was just fine. 

"Thank you." I said inanely. 

"Can I touch it?" she asked. 

"Oh please" I begged. 

She reached out and grasped it, bending over a little 
bit. I noticed that her breasts didn't move an inch, or 
hang down more or anything like that. They had to be 
rock hard. They weren't as big as Large Marge's, but 
they were bigger than I had thought they'd be. Her 
hair, on the other hand, flowed all over the place. It 
was heavy black hair, straight as an arrow and it shone 
in the light from my reading lamp. 

Then my eyes went to her hand as it closed around my 
cock. For some reason she stood it up straight. Her 
grip was light... tentative. It was the first sign that 
she wasn't completely sure of herself. Very slowly she 
skinned the foreskin down over the head, her eyes glued 
to the exposed tip. 

"I missed my turn." she said, as if someone else was in 
the room and she was informing them of critical 
information. 

"I'm sorry." I babbled. 

"No you're not" she said, again conversationally. "You 
fucked Suzy in my bed and you loved it." 

Hearing her use the word "fuck" was so bizarre that I 
was actually shocked. 

"She loved it too." added Monique. "I've been jealous 
ever since."
 
Her hand skinned back up my cock and then down again. 

"I'm sorry" I tried again. 

She looked at my eyes and hers were dark, like the rest 
of her. There was emotion there, but I couldn't 
identify what kind of emotion it was. She was acting so 
calm... measured almost... like she was acting out a 
scene she had practiced for a long time. 

"Do you like my PJs?" she asked. 

Never in a thousand years would I have called what she 
was wearing "PJs". It was another odd little thing that 
suggested she wasn't quite as sure of herself as she 
appeared to be. Then again, what the hell DID you call 
something like that? 

"Uh huh." I said, arching my hips up off the bed as her 
hand caressed me again. 

"I made it." she said. "I crocheted it myself... just 
for this. I had to make a hat too, so my Mom wouldn't 
know what the yarn was really for." She licked her 
lips. "I didn't wear the hat, though." 

Now I KNEW she was nervous. For some reason I felt a 
lot better all of a sudden. There for a minute I had 
been feeling like a mouse, sitting out in the open, 
with a big eagle staring at me or something. 

"You should have." I said. "It would have gone really 
good with your hair."
 
OK, I was still nervous too. But hey, no compliment is 
wasted... right? 

"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time." 
said Monique.
 
I couldn't think of a single thing that I didn't want 
her to do to me right then.
 "Go for it." I said. 

She licked her lips again and, before I could react, 
bent further, skinned my foreskin back, and sucked the 
head of my cock into her mouth. 

I don't know what the actual medical name is for what 
happened to me, but I'm sure it was some kind of 
seizure. I've heard people try to describe what an 
epileptic seizure looks like, and I'm pretty sure I did 
a fair imitation of that. I know I made tortured sounds 
and flopped around enough that she had to suddenly grip 
my cock so hard it was almost painful. But there wasn't 
anything about those few seconds I'd catalogue as 
painful, really. The dictionary is chock full of 
superlatives that could be applied to it... pick any 
one of them, or a dozen and you get the idea. What I am 
most glad of now is that I had no idea she would do 
that. If I'd have known I'd have blown in her mouth 
immediately. 

And that would have made my cock soft. 

And Unique Monique would have been unhappy. 

I didn't want Monique to ever be unhappy about 
anything... ever again. 

Her mouth did a little suck... tongue twirl... slide 
around a little bit kind of thing and then she pulled 
her mouth off and looked at the tip, like she expected 
something to happen. 

"I knew I'd like that." she said. She looked up at my 
face again. "I want to do more of that... later. OK?" 

I was gasping and trying to remember who I was and what 
all those shiny lights I had seen with my eyes closed 
were, and what planet I was from... that kind of 
thing... but I nodded frantically. 

"You're so funny." said Monique, smiling. "You make me 
feel good." 

At that particular point in time I wanted to be 
hilarious, and make Monique feel all those superlatives 
in the dictionary I just mentioned. Once again, if this 
particular member of the posse had asked me to marry 
her right then and there, I'd have babbled "YES! OH 
THANK YOU." I was her slave, and all she'd done was 
suck the tip of my cock a little. 

And make an outfit to lose her virginity in. 

"But I want to do something else first." she said, 
letting go of my prick. Mr. Happy never felt so alone 
and sad in his whole life as he did right then.

 "OK." said my befuddled brain to my mouth, which 
repeated it out loud. Then, because neither suave nor 
debonair were within light years of my room, I said "I 
don't have a rubber though." 

After I had time to think about that statement, I 
realized that Monique was the first girl to appear to 
me primarily as a loving human being who deserved only 
the best in life. What happened to her mattered to me 
on a level I hadn't experienced before in my life. I 
mean I loved Claire, and wanted her to be happy in 
life, and if something bad happened to her I'd do 
anything to help her. And both Marge and Suzy were 
special to me too in a way that only real friendship 
has ever been special to me since then. 

But with Monique I didn't ever want to hurt her in any 
way of any sort. Her nickname might have suggested 
that, if I'd have thought about it. Of them all, her 
nickname was the only one that wasn't a way of poking 
fun at her. I hadn't realized it before, and really I 
didn't, even at that moment, but since then I've 
thought about it a lot. I really LIKED Monique, and 
she's still one of my best friends today. 

Anyway, the thought of me... causing her the grief that 
an unwed mother suffered in those days... it just 
wasn't something I wanted to think about. 

"It's OK" she said in that soft deep voice. "It's safe 
for me right now. That's why we waited this long." 

'We' That word caused me to imagine five other girls, 
huddling on the other side of the wall, trying to 
listen to what was going on. And they had helped get 
her ready. That's what their talk about the 'cute 
outfit' and makeup was about. Suddenly it was like they 
were all right there in the room, in the shadows, with 
score pads, waiting to write down their scores on 
cards, like they do in those ice skating competitions 
my folks like to watch so much. 

Now that I'm older, I know that what I had was what's 
called a 'performance complex'. It causes older men's 
cocks to fall limp, which just adds to the problem. But 
that outfit, and those perky nipples and her obvious 
pleasure at being with me overrode that back then.

That, and of course, the fact that Unique Monique had 
just assured me I could spurt in her pussy. 

And I suddenly wanted... BAD... to spurt in her pussy. 

Please have a little more patience with me here folks. 
I know this is supposed to be a fast paced rollicking 
story about fucking and spurting and the joy of sex, 
but I also have to explain some things like this, 
because it made a real difference in my later life. 

Monique made me... care... about women. At least about 
the women I liked.

Finally my mind started functioning. "Your PJ's are 
gorgeous," I said, moving over to give her room to 
climb up on the bed. "You're gorgeous." 

Her smile was genuine, but didn't match the words that 
came out of her mouth. "I'm really nervous about this." 

I patted the bed beside me. "I wouldn't hurt you for a 
chance to meet Elvis." I said. 

She lay down on the bed, leaving several inches of 
space between us. "What do we do now?" she asked. 

Suddenly all her cool demeanor evaporated. If she had 
practiced what she'd just done, that's all she'd 
practiced. 

"I'd love to kiss you." I said. "And a whole lot more. 
But if you feel nervous just tell me, OK?" 

She nodded and leaned forward a little bit as I leaned 
in to press my lips to hers. She had big soft lips that 
smooshed and moved when I kissed her, and her tongue 
tip was right there at my lips as I opened them. She 
had obviously kissed somebody before, because she was a 
good kisser. I felt her hand on my hip as she leaned 
further toward me and I put my hand on the net of yarn 
that covered her hip. That kiss was a long one, but it 
wasn't urgent or anything. It was just nice and warm 
and long. 

When our lips came apart I said, "You're a good 
kisser." 

She smiled again. "I practiced with my Teddy Bear."
 
"You're kidding," I said. 

"No, really. I spent hours kissing him. I've wanted to 
do this for a long time, Bobby." 

Dumb me. I thought she just meant 'kissing a boy'. I'd 
find out later she meant she wanted to kiss me. Hence 
my flippant remark: "Well, you get your wish. Kiss me 
all you want." 

She did too. And when my hand strayed up to those lace 
covered breasts she just kissed me harder. Her nipples 
stuck through the mesh, and they were so long and hard 
that I couldn't wait to taste them. I kissed my way 
down to them and sucked one in. 

Monique made happy sounds. 

Her nipples were thick, besides being long. I've never 
seen nipples like that on a woman younger than probably 
thirty, but I had a blast sucking them. I wanted to get 
more in my mouth, and pushed her bra up and off of one 
breast. She liked that too, and in short order she 
ordered me to stop so she could take it off. It had to 
go over her head like a T shirt, because the way it was 
knitted or crocheted or whatever it was made it all one 
piece. 

Then I suckled both nipples like a dying man. They were 
just fabulous. I didn't even care that they tasted like 
the lipstick she'd darkened them with. 

At one point she moaned, "Oh Bobby I'm so close to 
feeling good." I figured that meant she had experienced 
an orgasm before, most probably with her fingers or 
something like that, and she called that 'feeling 
good.' And I wanted Monique to feel good. So I didn't 
exactly warn her that I was going to slide my hand into 
those net panties of hers and push my fingers through 
all that thick kinky hair down there, until I found her 
thoroughly wet and slippery gash, or that I was going 
to hook a finger up inside her and pull, so as to mash 
her clitty. I sucked firmly on her left nipple as I did 
that. 

She let out a little "Eeeep", but then went off like a 
roman candle almost immediately. It came out as a kind 
of "OOoooooo... Awwwwww... OHhhhhh... Unnnnng" and her 
hands crushed my head to her breast. 

I jerked my finger around in her a little bit and she 
shook like a dog trying to get dry after a swim. Then 
she rolled away from me and lay limp, pulling that 
nipple out of my mouth with a 'pop'. 

I was up on my left elbow and looked down at her half 
opened eyes. "How was that?" I asked. 

"Fuck me," she said. Her voice was so clear and mellow 
and completely understandable, but the words just 
didn't fit and I stared at her for a few seconds. She 
started wiggling out of her bottoms, though, and that 
convinced me. 
Monique had no fear. She might have been nervous, but 
she had no fear. That sounds strange, but it was like 
that. 

When she dropped her panties on the floor beside the 
bed she spread her legs and reached for me. I crawled 
up over her and didn't even get to see those pussy 
lips, hidden by all that lush growth of hair. I looked 
down and my cock was nesting there in that hair. 
Monique's hand slipped between us and she grasped my 
prick lightly, aiming it where she wanted it. 

She was hot as fire. I almost pushed hard, but then 
remembered I didn't want to hurt her. So I pushed 
gently, expecting to feel resistance. I just nudged the 
head of my cock into her opening. 

"I put a banana up in me..." she said, her voice 
breathy with excitement. "It hurt, but I wanted to be 
ready." Monique had done a LOT of planning, getting 
ready for this. 

I looked back up at her eyes and she was biting her 
lower lip. She let it go and said "Fuck me Bobby." 

I slid forward into hot, tight, buttery pussy. 

And promptly blew Unique Monique full of hot, buttery, 
very dangerous teenaged sperm. 

Talk about your premature ejaculation. That was my 
night for all the sexual dysfunctions known to man. 
Well, except that I didn't have any problem getting a 
hard-on before we started. And, to my amazement, I was 
so keyed up, I STAYED hard, even as I felt the sweet 
jolts of semen rushing through my prick and into 
Monique. 
Her eyes squinted with the strain of accepting my 
prick, and then immediately widened as she felt the 
heat of my ejaculate spurting into her. 

"It feels so hot... and wet..." she said, her voice 
sounding amazed too. 
"That's because I just came." I gasped. 

"Already?" There were definite tones of unhappiness in 
Monique's voice and they struck me to the core. My 
luscious, precious, special Monique wasn't happy.
 
"Don't worry" I said with confidence I hoped was well 
founded. "I'm think I can keep going." 

And I did, too. I think part of that was because she 
was now so slippery in her, and that my prick was 
desensitized because I'd just cum, that there was very 
little stimulation. For my prick, I mean. My MIND was 
still going a mile a minute, thinking that I NEEDED to 
make Monique happy. 

It doesn't sound very romantic, but what I did to 
Monique then was basically poke and prod her. I tried 
to go as deep as I could to hit that special spongy 
place I'd found in other girls, that they seemed to 
love me poking so much. And I made sure to grind 
against her clitty as much as I could. And, of course, 
at the same time, I sucked those luscious nipples as 
often as I could get my lips locked around one. 

And Monique got happy. In fact, I'd have to say, with 
no little pride, she got ecstatic. She wiggled and 
squirmed and thrust and made all kinds of very nice 
noises that told me she was happy and then some. She 
had tense, but quiet orgasms, during which she almost 
always tried to keep her lips closed, making a "MMMMMM" 
sound before her face split into a wide grimace that 
looked like pain. But her voice told me she wasn't in 
any pain at all. 

And if her voice wasn't enough, her hands, sliding 
along my back... gripping my buttocks and pulling when 
she did that little grimace, and her hips pushing up 
hard, told me that Monique was glad she was there under 
me, with her pussy full of my spunk, as I poked and 
prodded her through three more orgasms. 

I couldn't manage to cum again. I wanted to. I wanted 
to BAD. But it just wasn't going to happen. But you 
know? That didn't really bother me. Monique was so 
happy about all this that just watching her was as much 
fun as cumming was. 

After her third orgasm I stopped for a while. I was 
pretty tired by then. I kissed her, slipping my tongue 
into her mouth and she kissed me back. 

"Was that what you had in mind?" I asked, not sure I 
really should have opened myself up to criticism. 

"I love you Bobby," she said simply. 

"No you don't." I said, kissing her again with a quick 
peck. "It's just the hormones talking." 

"Do you have to stop now?" she asked, ignoring my 
comment. 

"I'm pretty well used up." I admitted. 

"Thank you." she said. She was so polite and happy 
sounding. It just made my heart soar. "Suzy said you'd 
be gentle and nice." she added. 

As I recalled it I'd stuffed Suzy too full of cock, too 
fast, and it hadn't been very gentle at all. And then 
after she got used to it I wasn't very gentle either. 
And with Marge? I'd pounded the crap out of her. 

But Unique Monique was happy with me, and all the world 
was right. 

"No problem." I tossed off. 

"You don't have to get up off of me." said happy 
Monique. "I like the way you feel lying on me." 

Monique wasn't in a hurry to get back to the girls and 
regale them with her description of Bobby in action. 
Monique wanted to be with me... wanted to keep feeling 
my skin rubbing against her skin... wanted more kisses. 

Well, what Monique wanted was a few more orgasms. And 
somewhere - I don't have any idea where, mind you - she 
learned that teenage boys can recuperate quickly. 
Monique strung it out until Mr. Happy woke up and said 
"Huh? Is she still here? OH BOY!" 

Monique got herself two more orgasms. 

AND another pussyful of spunk. 

The next morning at breakfast was a little easier than 
the last time. This time there were four girls sitting 
around the table who had felt my cock spurting up 
inside them, including Claire, who was still a secret 
as far as I knew. Only Miss September and Knobby Robby 
looked at me like I was some kind of interesting 
exhibit in a zoo. Well, Donna did anyway. 

Roberta still wouldn't look at me directly, but I felt 
her eyes on me when I wasn't looking her way. Usually 
Robby would talk to me, even when the others stuck up 
their noses at "that boy". But since I had been 
destroying virginities right and left, she hadn't said 
so much as a word to me. I kind of missed that. 

So I tried to strike up a conversation with her. 

"Hey Robby, you want to shoot some hoops or something 
later?" I offered. 

There were titters around the table. Too late I 
realized what all of them thought I meant by "or 
something". Robby's response was totally unpredicted. 

"Not with YOU!" she blurted. Then she turned as bright 
a shade of crimson as I'd ever seen a girl's face get. 

That led to enough laughter that my mother turned 
around from the counter. "What's going on?" she asked, 
staring at us all. 

Everybody got quiet. It was the worst thing they could 
have done. My mother was a sharp cookie. 

Thankfully she assumed what she'd always assumed. 
"Bobby, have you been picking on Roberta again? I TOLD 
you not to do that young man. And I TOLD you what I'd 
do if you continued." She was getting worked up into a 
rant and there wasn't anything I could do about it. 

Of all the people to save me I didn't think it would be 
Robby. But she did. 

"It's OK Mrs. Watkins said Robby. He knows I twisted my 
ankle the other day and he knows that's the only way he 
could beat me at basketball. He was just offering to 
play me when I'm not at my best." 

I didn't know if she'd actually twisted her ankle or 
not, but she hadn't been hobbling around. If she was 
lying she was good at it. There was no way she missed 
the double entendre that the other girls were giggling 
about. 

My mother took a breath. She liked to rant once in a 
while. But Robby had taken the wind out of her sails, 
making it sound like I was only trying to beat her at 
HORSE or something. Mom turned back around, muttering 
to herself about lame-brained boys trying to take 
advantage of poor injured girls. Robby only made it 
worse by sticking out her tongue at me. 

More titters from the posse, who had thoroughly enjoyed 
how things turned out. Robby had made me sound like a 
cretin and they hadn't gotten caught. All in all, the 
way they looked at it, it was girls one and boys zero. 

And here I thought they had started to like me or 
something. 

The posse hung around our house all that Saturday, but 
they avoided me like I was the plague or something. 
This is why guys go insane and shoot up post offices. 
Here I thought I was the new fair-haired boy, with 
pussy at my beck and call... maybe... and then they act 
like I'm some sort of unacceptable lout who doesn't 
deserve the courtesy of a simple acknowledgement. 

So I went off and played basketball with Phil and Dave. 

When I got back Claire was alone in the house. Mom and 
Dad had gone to their bowling league. 

"C'mere," said Claire authoritatively. "I want to show 
you something." 

I followed her, off balance at being treated like a 
human being. 

When we got to her room she turned around and her 
blouse was unbuttoned. What she wanted to show me was 
her tits. 

Then, to my astonishment she attacked me, throwing her 
arms around me and kissing me hard on the lips. When I 
grabbed her waist to keep my balance, my hands slid 
inside her shirt and landed on warm skin. 

I was kind of caught off guard, you know? I knew what 
she wanted... but I didn't understand what was going 
on. Being smart enough not to stop and say, "I don't 
understand, Claire." I just went with the moment, which 
evolved into both of us tearing off clothing like it 
was five hundred degrees and naked was the only way 
we'd survive. 

Then she plastered her naked body against my naked body 
and pulled me to the bed somehow, managing to keep her 
lip lock on me even as we fell onto the bed. That 
didn't work out very well, though, because half of us 
WASN'T on the bed, and that half, being our legs and 
buttocks, pulled us to the floor in a tangle. 

Claire actually LAUGHED! 

Then she scrambled up and pulled me up and this time we 
managed to get onto the bed in the standard missionary 
position, whereupon she fisted my iron hard cock - when 
did THAT get so hard? - and notched it into her pussy. 
I quit trying to think and just shoved. 

I just love the sound of a woman who's just been 
penetrated by my cock and likes it. There just isn't 
any sound in the world that's so sweet to my ears. 

And then it was off to the races. Claire was a violent, 
passionate lover - still is for that matter - and 
making love to her was a violent passionate affair. 

Thankfully she was able to get off even more quickly 
than I suddenly wanted to, and when I felt my jets of 
warm semen flushing into her pussy she was already 
stroking my back and panting that I was the best and 
that she loved me and that if I never stopped doing 
that to her it would be OK with her. 

I didn't have the air to speak until I'd rolled off of 
her and was lying beside her on the bed. She had two 
fingers on her pussy, rubbing little circles gently, 
almost casually, and was just staring up at the 
ceiling. 

"What was that all about?" I finally asked. "I thought 
you were pissed off at me." 

She turned her head and her eyes were nice... soft. 
"Whatever gave you THAT idea?" she asked. "I just got 
so horny thinking about what you did with the girls 
that I just needed to feel you in me." 

I thought about all that "We'll see what happens in the 
future." crap she'd laid on me after our first time. 
Obviously she thought I was her little fuck toy or 
something. 

Then again... life could be worse. 

"So Monique had a good time?" I hazarded. 

"Oh Monique had better than just a good time. Monique 
says that someday she's going to have your baby." My 
sister said that like it was the most normal thing in 
the world to tell a naked man lying beside her while 
she rubbed her clit. 

"So what was up with Robby?" I asked. So far my 
questions weren't getting me yelled at, and I had a 
serious lack of knowledge about what was going on. 

"She's scared. She doesn't want to do it with you." 
said Claire, as if she was talking about Robby not 
particularly liking Brussel-sprouts, and not wanting it 
to be served to her for dinner. 

"Claire?" I said. 

"What?" she said back. 

"I don't want to hurt any of the girls." What I 
actually meant was a lot more complicated than that, 
but that was how it came out. 

"You're sweet." she said. "But don't worry about it. 
She'll come around." 

"I thought we weren't going to do this any more." I 
said suddenly. "You and me, I mean." 

She looked at me again. "That's wrong." she said. 
"We're going to do this a lot." 

Now I felt safe saying what I'd had the urge to say a 
while back. "I don't understand... " Then I added. "I 
don't want to get any of the girls in trouble." I meant 
pregnant. 

"We're working on that." said my sister. Back then, 
getting on the pill wasn't easy unless your parents 
knew about it. And back then a fifteen or sixteen year 
old girl didn't just go to her parents and say "I think 
it's about time I went on the pill, don't you agree?" 
And you could get condoms for a quarter in machines in 
the bathroom of gas stations, but they sold things like 
"Instant Pussy" in those machines too. 

"Instant Pussy was this capsule that, when you dropped 
it into water, melted and inside was a little piece of 
foam that was shaped like a cat sitting down. Ha Ha. 
All us guys fell for that one, and it was an unspoken 
pact never to tell the uninitiated what it actually 
was. But my point is, would you trust the condoms sold 
by the same company that sells "Instant Pussy"?

"For now" said Claire, "We just have to plan things 
according to our visits."

Girls used to talk about their periods being "visits". 
My sister had "visits" from Fred. That was her code 
word for her being on the rag. I don't think they do 
that nowadays, but they did back then. 

"What about Donna?" I asked. 

Claire looked funny at me. "You just squirted and you 
want to know about Donna?" she retorted. 

"I just don't want to do the wrong thing." I said. The 
number of times my sister and I had a serious 
conversation was not big. I guess we were growing up or 
something. We were sure doing grown up things that we'd 
never done before. She took that in stride too. 

"Don't worry about it" she said. "You're even better at 
this than I thought you'd be, even with what all the 
other girls say about you." Leave it to Claire to pay 
me a compliment and slap me in the face at the same 
time. "I think you'll know when the time is right when 
it comes to Donna and Roberta." 

Then, to my astonishment, she rolled over on top of me. 
"But let's talk later. How soon can you get hard again? 
I want to do it again." 

We found out that I could do it again really fast when 
I was motivated. She experimented with being on top and 
rode me fast and hard while I played with those breasts 
she'd wanted me to see. At least this time I warned her 
I was about to unload a heap of baby makers in her 
pussy before I did it. 

"It's OK." she panted. "I'm pretty safe right now." 

Not "I'm safe." 

Not "You won't make a baby in your little sister 
Bobby." 

Not "You'd better NOT make a baby in your little sister 
Bobby!" 

I came like a geyser, looking right at her flat empty 
belly as I filled it with hot teen spunk, thinking 
about what it would look like if it swelled up with my 
baby inside of it. Now that I think about it, that 
might be what made me so eager to make a baby in a 
woman later in life. 

Claire kissed me a lot as we both calmed down post-
orgasmic. When she was happy with me she was a very 
loving sister. Those kisses made me want to go again, 
but Mr. Happy just wouldn't cooperate. She was done 
anyway. Two was enough for Claire, and she got all 
perky. There's nothing more erotic than a perky naked 
teenaged girl in my book. 

But I was done too. 


CHAPTER SIX
-----------

It was almost two months before I got any more sex. 
School had let out and it was June. The weather was 
great. The world should have been sweet. I wouldn't 
have thought a guy could get so worked up from a lack 
of nookie. I went out on a few dates, and found that it 
was much harder to stop when the girls wanted me to. On 
the other hand, I had learned a lot with the posse. I 
was getting better at getting them off, though, and 
there was always Mother Palm and her five daughters 
afterward, in my room, easing the strain. 

I began to think that Donna and Robby weren't going to 
accede to the sheriff's plan, but actually I didn't 
mind. I was ten times more lucky than most guys my age 
by then. Well, OK, four times more lucky, not counting 
the encore Claire and I had engaged in that Saturday 
afternoon. 

I found out later that Claire had decided she needed to 
be a little more careful about things. She had waited 
until she knew Donna got her 'visit' and then counted 
down from that to decide when Donna should surrender 
her virginity to the posse's sex toy. 

She also wanted to make sure she had her own period 
after our dangerous afternoon delight. But she did and 
one day, in the middle of the day, Miss September rang 
the bell when I happened to be in the kitchen making a 
sandwich. My Mom was doing laundry and Claire was in 
her room. When I opened the door Donna stared at me and 
stepped back a step, blushing. If she'd have told me 
what she was there for in plain English she couldn't 
have been any clearer. 

Donna had come to deliver up her virginity to me.

I tried to put her at ease. "Donna! I'm so glad to see 
you. You're looking particularly beautiful today." 

Now, anybody who knew me would have done a double take 
to find out who the Watkins family had invited over, 
and who had taken it upon themselves to answer the 
door. They'd have seen me standing there, but never in 
a million years would they have believed it was 
actually me. Not after hearing me say something like 
that. They'd have thought I had a twin brother nobody 
had ever heard about... a polite twin brother, who had 
suddenly appeared.

Donna didn't believe it either. "I'm so STUPID!" she 
said to herself. "I can't do this." She turned around 
to leave and I called to her. 

"DONNA!" 

I could see her body jerk in sympathy with her wince. 
She stopped and turned partly around, looking at me 
over her shoulder. Man she was good looking! 

I tried again. "Look, Donna, you don't have to do 
anything. OK? Just because the rest... well it doesn't 
matter what they did, OK? You don't have to do 
anything. Nothing has to change." 

I was really trying to put her at ease, but it didn't 
work. "I knew that's what you'd say. Suzy said you'd 
say that. But everything already HAS changed Bobby. 
It's just not the same any more." 

Well, she was right about that of course. I went 
outside and sat down on the top step. "You're right I 
guess." I started out. "I mean there have been changes. 
Big ones too, as far as I'm concerned. But that doesn't 
have to change things between you and me." 

Now that was a patently stupid speech. Donna and I 
didn't really have a relationship to change. We'd known 
each other for years but, other than lusting after her 
for the last two or three of them, the only 
communication between us had been in the form of barbs 
or jokes or whatever. None-the-less, I patted the porch 
beside me, inviting her to sit down. She did, leaving a 
good foot and a half between us. She was looking down 
and her long red hair shielded her face from me. 

"Why did you guys even agree to do... this... in the 
first place. I mean that's really screwy." I said. "Not 
that I'm complaining or anything, but to be honest I 
was really amazed that you all would make that kind of 
pact." 

She looked at me through her hair. "You really don't 
understand, do you." It wasn't a question. 

"I guess I don't." I said. 

"And you just thought Claire came up with this wild 
plan and we went along with it." she said. 

"I guess so." I had a premonition that I was about to 
hear something I might not like. 

"So you think we're all brainless imbeciles who Claire 
can push around and make do whatever she says." 

That sounded ominous. 

"Well, no," I lied. "I mean I know you're all best 
friends and all that, and they're forever telling us 
that peer pressure can be good or bad. I just 
thought..." I trailed off as I realized that what I 
thought would just confirm her suggestion. "I don't 
know what to think." I added, trying to salvage the 
situation. 

She looked at me for a minute. "Do you really call me 
Miss September because you think I look like that 
Playboy Bunny?" 

"Yes." I answered immediately. The truth was easy to 
come up with. "But I didn't mean to hurt your 
feelings." She didn't say anything. "If I did." I kept 
trying to salvage as much as I could. 

"Does that mean you think I'm sexy?" she asked. 

"Yes," I said. Keep it simple. That's my motto. Unless 
I'm engaged in serious bullshitting. 

"Then why didn't you ever ask me out on a date?" she 
asked. 

Now that was an interesting question. It was 
interesting because it had a multitude of answers. Some 
of those answers I thought would be obvious to her. I 
tried one of them first. 

"Well, you're two years younger than me," I started 
out. 

"So is Mandy Peters, and you took her out," she came 
back immediately. 

That was true. I had asked Mandy out. She was a 
Freshman cheerleader and I had the hots for her. She 
drew the line at kissing, though. She had an older 
sister who had gotten pregnant right out of High School 
and the father had taken off and joined the Army. She 
didn't want to have anything to do with anything that 
could remotely make babies. As it turned out she was 
the one who broke up with me, because she fell in love 
with a football player. Five months later she was 
walking around with a swollen belly. Life just isn't 
fair that way.

"OK, then, you're one of Claire Bear's friends." I 
said. 

"So is Tiffany Baldridge, and you took her out," shot 
back Donna. 

That, too, was true, though Tiffany was a year older 
than them and wasn't in the posse. She and Claire had 
dance classes together and she'd come over a few times, 
but when the dance classes were done they didn't hang 
around each other much. She had actually asked me to a 
dance at school - the annual Sadie Hawkins dance - and 
we'd had a lot of fun. She liked to have her breasts 
fondled, and she had really nice breasts, which I liked 
fondling, so it had worked out pretty well. But she 
wanted to do more, and, because she wanted to do more, 
she broke up with me because she actually DIDN'T want 
to do more. That was what she told me when she said we 
couldn't go out any more. 

Who understands teenaged girls? 

"But she's not in the posse," I argued. 

"So being in the posse means you won't ask any of us 
out?" she asked in that tone that meant it wasn't a 
real question. 

"I guess. It would just seem... odd," I said. 

"But having sex with us isn't... odd." Her voice was 
level, but I could hear heat in it. 

I was trying to make her feel better, but it was making 
me feel worse somehow. And I definitely smelled danger 
in this conversation. 

I fell back on another answer I'd thought of. It was 
one that I was afraid would get me in trouble, but it 
was all I had left. 

"I've always thought you were cute, and if I'd have 
taken you out I'd have tried to get in your panties, 
and if that didn't work out then you'd have been mad 
and still coming over to see Claire and it would have 
been all awkward. Or it might even have broken up your 
friendship with Claire." I let that drop into the semi-
silence of a spring afternoon. I could hear a lawn 
mower off in the distance somewhere. 

Donna brushed the hair behind her shoulder and I could 
suddenly see her whole face. "Is that true?" she asked. 
"Is that the real reason you never asked me out?" 

We had been talking about why I hadn't asked her out 
for ten minutes, and I just that second realized that 
she'd WANTED me to ask her out... and I never had. Us 
guys can be dense like that sometimes. 

"Uh... yeah, I guess it is," I said. I wouldn't have 
believed me if I'd been hiding in the bushes listening 
to this conversation. 

But she did. 

"And the others? Is that why you never asked any of us 
out?" 

I was in trouble. If I answered yes then that meant I'd 
lusted after all of them at one time or another. That 
was actually true, except for maybe Robby. But you 
didn't admit that to a girl who you'd just admitted to 
lusting after. Right? 

On the other hand, if I answered no then that meant I 
didn't think her friends were all cute and that there 
were some of them I DIDN'T lust after, which meant I 
was a pig because they were all her friends. Right? 

Now you know why teenaged boys don't want to enter into 
serious conversation with girls. It's too much like 
taking a stroll in a mine field. 

I came up with something brilliant. "I think I never 
seriously considered asking any of you out because it 
might cause problems. I didn't want Claire to be mad at 
me, and I didn't want any of you to be mad at me, so it 
was easier just to keep things... you know... on a 
simpler level." 

She looked at me with those green eyes of hers and said 
"If you're lying I'll cut your balls off. You want to 
go swimming?" 

Girls can do that. They can deliver the most dire 
threat and then say something completely innocuous in 
the same tone of voice so that you almost think there 
was no threat there at all. You think you must have 
misunderstood them. But somehow I knew that Miss 
September owned a knife, or knew where to get her hands 
on one. I envisioned a filleting knife, one of those 
long thin ones that are extremely sharp. At the same 
time, she wasn't trying to leave any more. That would 
have gotten me in trouble with Claire, no doubt, so 
things were better. Right? 

"Sure," I said. "Let me go get Claire." 

"No," she said firmly. "Just you and me. Down at the 
creek." 

Damn. I'd stepped on another mine. It was one of those 
that doesn't go off until you let the pressure off, and 
I was standing right on top of it. 

"OK, but if I get in trouble you have to back me up," I 
said. 

"Deal." she said. She stood up, and for the first time, 
I saw she had a rolled up towel in her hand. Inside it 
was, no doubt, her bathing suit. She'd brought it with 
her. 

"You already have your suit." I was a master of 
pointing out the obvious. 

"It was Claire's idea. She planned on having you take 
us - her and me - down to the creek. I got the idea you 
and I were supposed to fool around when we get there. 
She's impatient with me because I don't want to do 
this. But having Claire there would creep me out. I'll 
go with just you, except I'm not so sure about the 
fooling around part, OK?" 

"OK" I said, not at all sure that this was a good idea. 

"Just get your suit and a towel and some suntan 
lotion." she said. "And DON'T tell Claire what you're 
doing." 

Who would say "no" to Miss September? 

Fifteen minutes later I was strolling along beside Miss 
September, three blocks from home... and Claire... 
heading for the creek. 

"Creek" is probably the wrong word for where we were 
headed. Everybody called it that, but it was lots 
bigger than a creek. It wasn't quite a river though, 
and if it had a real name I don't know what it was. 
Everybody called it Turkey Creek, because there were 
wild turkeys in the woods around it. There were two 
bends in Turkey Creek where it went by our town. 

One was an accepted swimming hole, with a rope swing, 
and a little broken down dock you could jump off of. 
The water there was probably eight or nine feet deep 
and that's where most of the kids went to play and swim 
if they didn't go to the city pool. It cost fifty cents 
to go to the city pool, which sometimes made the 
difference. 

The other bend was flanked on one side by dense woods, 
and the other by old Mr. Jenkins' hay field. It had all 
manner of signs warning trespassers to stay away, but 
Mr. Jenkins was probably eighty and never came down 
there unless he was on a tractor. You could hear that a 
mile away. 

The water there was only about four feet deep and the 
bottom had that kind of mud that squishes between your 
toes and you have to actually scrub at it to get your 
feet clean when you've been wading in it. It was good 
for lying on the grass to dry off and do some 
sunbathing, but most people didn't actually swim there. 

That's where Donna wanted to go. 

It was probably only seventy degrees, and the water was 
really cold still, so while we went in and waded around 
for a little while, we didn't spend long in there. Then 
we lay out on the towels. Donna had on a two piece 
swimming suit that was greenish blue and had pictures 
of fish on it. It was styled about like a pair of bra 
and panties, but the fish spoiled the illusion. She lay 
down on her stomach and propped herself up on her 
elbows. 

We had been talking about nothing in general. You know, 
how nice the weather was, and how gooey the mud was 
between our toes, and whether there were fish in the 
creek, and whether they would bite if there were. Just 
stuff. When I lay down beside her though, that changed.

"You know I went and found that magazine." she said. 
"The one you said had the woman in it you named me 
after."

It was hard enough for a boy to get his hands on a 
Playboy in those days. I couldn't imagine how a girl 
did. "How in the world did you get one?" I asked. Not 
"What did you think of her?" or "You're just as pretty 
as she is." It was a practical question, and guys are 
practical, even when we shouldn't be.

"Well... actually... I told my mother about it and she 
brought the magazine home for me to look at." she said.

Now Donna could have told me that little green men from 
Mars had just landed behind me and were about to zap me 
with a Buck Rogers ray gun and I would NOT have been 
more astonished. Her MOTHER bought a Playboy? To show 
her fourteen year old DAUGHTER?! 

"Wow!" was all I could manage. Then I blurted "You told 
your MOTHER?!"

Donna laughed. "Of course I did. I didn't know whether 
to be mad or flattered. My Mom's grown up so I knew 
she'd know what to tell me. She laughed about it first. 
She likes you. She said it had to be a compliment, but 
she'd never seen a Playboy either, so she went to the 
Rexall and bought one. She said Mr. Johnson about had a 
cow when she asked for it. She said it was worth the 
dollar twenty-five just to see the look on his face 
when he handed it to her."

I had a vivid vision of Donna's mother, who was a 
beautiful woman in her own right, standing in the drug 
store holding out her hand for a girly magazine that 
Mr. Johnson kept behind the counter so that us boys 
wouldn't be corrupted by looking through it. Of course 
HE had undoubtedly looked through it, quite thoroughly, 
and was now having to hand it to a woman. I laughed at 
what must have been going through Mr. Johnson's mind. 

"Wow," I said again. "That's amazing."

"Why is it so amazing?" asked Donna. "If men can look 
at naked women, why can't anybody else?"

"I don't know," I said. "It must seems weird, I guess." 
It was a philosophy I could get used to though. I 
thought about sitting around with a bunch of girls and 
looking at pictures of naked women. That might actually 
be interesting. It was one of those completely new 
ideas - something you never had a glimmer of a thought 
about before - that hit you right in the middle of the 
forehead and knocked you off course.

"So what did you do then?" I asked.

"We opened it up and looked for the woman named Donna. 
She was in the middle and her picture opened out and 
was real long."

I knew that. I'd looked at the same picture. I was 
entranced now with this story.

"So what did you think?" I asked.

"I thought you were an idiot." she said calmly. "I 
didn't look anything like that woman. She was all 
beautiful and sexy and... well she was beautiful."

"You're wrong." I said firmly. "You look so much like 
her that she could be one of your relatives."

"I thought she looked like my mother, not me." 

I disagreed. Mrs. Miles had blond hair with reddish 
highlights, not dark red like Donna. Of course her 
breasts were larger and her hips too, and she had that 
hour glass figure that the woman in Playboy had, but I 
had superimposed Donna's picture over the Bunny's 
picture for so long I couldn't see anyone else.

"What did your mother say?" I asked.

"She told me it was too bad we were so young." she 
said.

"What?" I asked.

"She said 'Donna, honey, it's too bad you two are so 
young. He's going to make a good catch for some girl 
some day.'" Donna sighed. "And then she said you'd paid 
me a very nice compliment. She also said she might have 
a talk with your mother about older boys making 
compliments like that to younger girls."

My mother had never said anything about it. I wondered 
if Mrs. Miles had actually talked to her. I was 
distracted by a thought that landed in my brain.

"So, if she said it was a compliment... and it was, by 
the way... why did you always get mad when I called you 
that?"

"I was supposed to get mad." she said simply. "Boy's 
are supposed to be polite and use your real name, not 
some made up name that when they use they think about 
sex."

"Your mother told you that?" I asked.

"No, I just knew it." she said. 

In case you didn't know it, girls are full of knowledge 
that they're born with and then discover floating 
around inside their brains from time to time as they 
grow up. Some people call it "women's intuition" but I 
like my explanation better.

"So you didn't like it." I said.

"No, I loved it. It made me feel pretty and special." 
she said.

I was thoroughly confused now. "I don't understand. You 
loved it, but you got mad when I used it and thought 
about you as sexy, right?"

"No, I got mad at you for not ACTING like I was sexy. 
You said it and it was like you were teasing me, saying 
I wasn't REALLY sexy and pretty, but my mother said I 
was. But you never asked me out so I thought maybe she 
was wrong." It sounded like Donna was as confused as I 
was. Now that I'm older I know we were both confused, 
and both normal.

"Well I DO think you're beautiful, and I bet you look 
just like that other Donna naked." I have no idea what 
made me get that forward with her, but I did.

"No, I'm not. There's something wrong with my breasts." 
she said.

Naturally I looked at what was hanging off her chest as 
she said that. Her suit didn't show much more than a 
little cleavage.

"Really?" I asked. She brought it up, right?

"If you won't laugh I'll tell you," she said.

"Of course I won't laugh," I said.

"I have inverted nipples," she said.

She may as well have been speaking Latin. It must have 
showed on my face, because she explained it to me.

"Miss September's breasts had nipples, right?" she 
asked.

I nodded.

"And they stuck out, right?"

I nodded again.

"Well mine don't. They go in, like my belly button."

I tried to look at her belly button and she actually 
rolled onto her side so I could see it. It was a normal 
inny looking belly button. Then I realized what that 
must make her breasts look like.

"Wow!" I said.

"Yeah, the doctor said not to worry about it and that 
they'll be normal when I grow up. I asked him how that 
would happen and he said that when I got married 
everything would be fixed, but he wouldn't explain it. 
He said I might have to wait until I had a baby and 
then they'd get normal for sure. But what man is going 
to want to have a baby with me when my breasts look 
deformed?"

Once in a while, a teenaged boy can think clearly. It's 
rare, or so they tell me, and they say that actual, 
reliable rational thought isn't possible until you are 
in your early twenties, but you can have glimpses of 
what that's like in your teens.

This was such a time. 

I suddenly realized exactly why Donna didn't want me to 
take her virginity. She didn't want me to see her 
deformed breasts. The other girls had, no doubt, talked 
about how nice it was to have your nipples sucked, but 
Donna knew, or thought she knew, that I'd be disgusted 
by her inverted nipples.

"Donna?" I said.

She looked at me.

"Would you let me kiss you?" I felt bad for her. She 
wanted boys to ask her out, but was terrified that they 
would, and would then want to grope her, like all boys 
tried to do with all girls. And if they did, then 
they'd find out her secret and be all horrified and 
tell all the other boys she was deformed and an alien 
or something.

"Why?" she asked.

"I want to kiss you." I said. That was true. This girl 
had shared something with me that went beyond our 
current relationship. I wanted to give her something 
back.

"Why?" she asked again.

"All you have to say is 'No' and I won't bother you 
about it any more." I said, instead of trying to answer 
her question.

"I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you." she said 
infuriatingly. "I just want to know why you want to."

I got frustrated and told her something no guy should 
ever tell a girl - the truth. "I want to kiss you 
because I think you'll like it, and then we'll kiss 
more, and I hope you'll get turned on and let me take 
your bathing suit off and we can fool around." I 
realized with horror what I'd just said. "OK?" I tried 
to make it sound like I had been joking.

"You want to see my inverted nipples, don't you?" she 
suggested. "You won't like them. You'll think they're 
gross and you'll be disgusted. Then I'll be mad at you. 
That's why I said I don't want to do all this virginity 
stuff."

"I want to make you feel good." I countered. "I don't 
care if your nipples are inverted or not. I can make 
you feel good other ways."

She thought about it for a long time. Then she looked 
at me. "You have to promise not to screw me." she said.

"I wouldn't do that unless you told me to anyway." I 
said in my own defense.

"That's not exactly the way Marge and Suzy told it." 
said Miss September.

That was interesting. Monique claimed they both said I 
was gentle and sweet. But when they did that Donna 
apparently heard in that same language that I almost 
raped them.

"Well, I didn't force them or anything." I said. I did 
NOT want it getting around that I forced girls to do 
ANYTHING.

"Promise me. Everybody swears you keep your promises." 
she said.

"OK, I promise. Your virginity is safe with me." I 
said. "For today." I added, grinning.

She didn't grin though, or even smile. She sat up and, 
to my amazement, took off her bottoms.

"I didn't even kiss you yet." I objected. A guy has 
some pride, you know, and getting a girl to do things 
after you kiss her means you overcame her natural 
defenses with your suaveness and debonairness, you 
know?

"Shall I put them back on?" she asked. It sounded like 
she was completely serious. I hadn't seen anything yet, 
because in the process of taking her bottoms off she'd 
drawn her knees up to her chest.

"No! That's OK." I said. If she'd have been a few years 
older she'd have fallen over laughing. But she was 
scared and nervous.

"Maybe I should just let you screw me." she said. "Only 
you can't see my breasts. Would you do that?" she 
asked.

I knew the answer to this question. She was trying to 
trip me up. It had been tried by experts. 

"No." I said. "I promised not to." Hah! Take that! Try 
to mess with me and you'll lose for sure.

"But I'm ashamed of them. I'd really rather let you 
screw me than let you see my deformed breasts." 

I began to think she actually meant it. I had a dribble 
of gallant in me, along with all that suaveness and 
debonairness I depended on so much. "Look, Donna, I 
like you and you really do remind me of Miss September, 
and I told you I don't care about your nipples. I just 
want to kiss you and fool around a little and make you 
feel good. Is that so much to ask?"

I learned this from girls. You tell someone you want to 
do something that will be fun for YOU, and then make it 
sound like you're doing it for THEM, and that if they 
don't let you do it they're being selfish. It reduces 
guys to puddles of fear and shame. To my amazement it 
worked on a girl too!

She reached behind her and closed HER eyes and the top 
of her suit went slack. She carefully removed it and 
lay it on the towel beside her.

They did look strange. Weird was not too strong a word. 
Her breasts were nice and round and white looking, but 
where there should have been nipples... there were 
sunken in dips. Those dips were the color of nipples, 
but they went in, instead of out. Imagine a girl made 
of modeling clay. Then you poke her nipple and make a 
hole in the tip of her breast. That's what it looked 
like. It looked like somebody had poked her and driven 
her nipples into her breasts.

I let some more gallant rise to the surface. "Would you 
be mad if I wanted to be naked too, and hug you while I 
kiss you?" I asked.

Her eyes popped open and she looked startled. I'm sure 
she was absolutely convinced that I'd gag, throw up, or 
scream and run or something like that. Instead I kept 
acting like a horny boy.

Which I was. No sex for over two months, remember?

"Remember... you promised." she reminded me.

I shucked my suit and she craned her head to look. I 
got up on my knees and let her see my mostly hard cock. 
Then I stood up and moved my towel next to hers so I 
could lie down beside her. She stared at my cock the 
whole time.

"I can't believe you put that in my friends." she said.

"Well, believe it." I said, some macho making itself 
known.

I used the same little nibbling kisses on Donna that 
I'd used on Suzy. I just overpowered her defenses with 
those little soft kisses. Pretty soon she was kissing 
me back. She felt good against me. Even though it was 
warm, just the feel of skin against skin is nice and my 
cock was pressed up against her hip. 

I trailed some kisses down her neck to her throat and 
got a little noise from inside her. That was a good 
sign.

We just made out for probably fifteen minutes. It was 
nice, but it made me hard as a rock. She could feel it 
too, pressing against her hip. I pulled back a little 
to see if she would go for more.

"You know, with some of the others, I kissed them other 
places."

"Oh I know all about that." she said. "They talked 
about how fantastic it was and all that."

"So...?" I left the question unsaid.

"I don't know." she said. Her voice sounded like she 
was telling the truth. She really didn't know whether 
to let me or not. I started kissing her neck again and 
her head lolled. When I got to her collar bones and 
kissed along them, she let me roll her onto her back. 
One hand went to cover her pubes.

I kissed down the swell of her breast, getting closer 
and closer to that strange... wrong... nipple. I had 
stuck my tongue inside several of the girls' belly 
buttons, and they seemed to like that, so when I got to 
that inverted nipple I did the same thing. I stuck my 
tongue down in that dip and pressed.

Donna jerked and her head came up off the ground, her 
eyes wide. 

"That feels nice!" she said, surprise evident in her 
voice.

I had sucked nipples before, but never a whole breast 
tip. I tried that and got enough flesh in my mouth that 
I was able to play with it a little bit. I started with 
my mouth wide, sucking in the whole tip of the breast 
and then let it slowly slide out of my mouth as I 
pulled off of it. I was just playing with her breasts. 
I knew that it felt good for a breast to be played 
with, and since I couldn't suck the nipples I sucked 
what I could get to.

I was therefore, immensely surprised when, about the 
third time I did it, there was a nipple in my mouth 
when I got to the very tip. Instead of a dip, or a 
hole, there was suddenly a nipple. I was so surprised 
that I opened my mouth and looked. I was just in time 
to see that nipple suck back inside her breast.

Donna knew something had happened too. She had laid her 
head back, enjoying my play, but now she raised her 
head again. "What happened?" she asked, anxious.

"What did that feel like?" I asked. "Right there at the 
end."

"I got all tingly and I felt things... somewhere else." 
she said.

"Where did you feel it?" I asked.

"I can't tell you. It's... private." she said.

"Donna, we're naked, in the middle of a hay field and 
I'm putting my mouth all over you. I'm really hoping to 
put my mouth ALL over you before we're done. What could 
possibly be so private you couldn't tell me about it?"

She blushed. "I felt it in my... pussy."

"Let me try it again and see if we can repeat what 
happened." I said.

She lay her head back down.

I repeated the exercise but my mouth slipped off 
because her breast was slippery. I tried again, sucking 
harder, and was rewarded by her nipple popping back 
out. This time I kept it out by keeping up the suction. 

Miss September writhed under me.

"Ohhhh Bobby, what's happening? That feels so strange."

I had to let go of the nipple to tell her. Her head was 
up again when I did and she saw it as it slowly sucked 
back into her breast flesh.

"I think I un-inverted your nipple." I said.

"Do the other one." she demanded.

I did, but that one took longer to get it to come out. 
In the end, though, it did.

She was ecstatic, and excited, and at least three other 
active verbs of an emotional nature, and wanted me to 
keep going.

I did, but after a while it began to hurt her, so I 
quit. But she was radiant, smiling and of the opinion 
that I had done something of major significance. When 
she kissed me this time she meant it, and those kisses 
got hot and wet.

At one point she said "Didn't you say you were going to 
kiss me in other places?"

I took the hint and moved down to her red bush. Donna's 
pussy lips were a little like her inverted nipples. 
They were tight and thin and pressed together hard. I 
had to push hard with my tongue to get them to open up.

But when they did, and her legs relaxed with them, 
Donna was VERY appreciative. I had to pull her pussy 
lips apart with my fingers to find her clit, and even 
it was sunken into it's sheath. Everything about Donna 
was work, but in every case, her response to the work 
it took to get there was immensely satisfying.

There was one thing about Donna that wasn't tight and 
tense and underdeveloped. That was her voice when she 
came. It built, kind of like when you hear a cop coming 
from blocks away, with his siren on, and he gets closer 
and closer until he's right there and the siren is 
beating against your ears. She was like that. 

I heard her moaning, and the moan got louder in time 
with the thrusts she made against my face with her 
pussy until she was wailing loud enough I knew somebody 
would hear and come to investigate who was being 
murdered in old Mr. Jenkins' hay field. Then her moans 
faded away, just like that siren fades as it passes you 
and the cop speeds on down the road, away from you.

Then it was slobbery kisses and Donna didn't put her 
hip in the way of my cock any more. She let it poke 
wherever it wanted to poke, which, sometimes, was right 
into the place where her legs came together.

We lay there for a while, just being close to each 
other, with a little kiss now and then. Ten minutes 
later she asked me if I'd do it again. She was so 
appreciative that I didn't mind that my balls were 
beginning to hurt a little, so we played what I later 
called "cops and robbers" again. She really did sound 
like a police siren, and the second time she came I was 
entirely glad that we hadn't done this in my bedroom, 
in the middle of the night. My parents would have 
stampeded into my room armed with ball bats and golf 
clubs.

She was even MORE appreciative after that second 
orgasm, and told me she'd changed her mind and that if 
I wanted her virginity it was mine.

It almost killed me to decline. I'd made a promise, and 
I kept my promises.

"No, really, I mean it Bobby." she said, her hand 
finding my rock hard cock.

"I know you do Donna, but you're the one who made me 
promise."

"I KNOW I made you promise, but I take it back. I am 
making you un-promise."

"You can't make me un-promise" I said reasonably. "A 
promise is a promise."

"But I'm HORNY!" she squealed.

So I went back down on her and gave her a third orgasm. 
During that one I started jacking off. If I didn't cum 
soon I'd explode. She felt what I was doing and asked 
me "Are you masturbating?"

"Mpfht" I said into her pussy. It had relaxed a little 
and now her pussy lips were darker. When she came she 
just got kind of greasy/slippery. She tasted tangy, but 
didn't seem to get sopping wet like some of the others.

"Wait and I'll do it for you." she groaned. Then she 
went back to warming up her siren.

The cops chased the robbers by us one last time and I 
raised up to look at Miss September, splayed out naked 
below me. She was gorgeous, inverted nipples and all, 
and I started spanking my monkey furiously.

She started to sit up. "I told you... let me."

I held up my other hand. "This time <pant pant> just 
let me <pant pant> next time <pant pant> you can do 
it."

I should have asked her if it would be ok if I blew my 
cork all over her, but I was too excited. She was lying 
there, legs still spread, like she was waiting for me 
to fuck her, and she was willing to let me fuck her, 
and as that scenario ran through my head my balls 
coughed and a long line of hot spunk shot out of the 
tip of my cock and landed from pussy to throat.

She gasped and her eyes got as big as silver dollars, 
and I laid two more ropes of silvery spend beside that 
first one.

Miss September squealed "OH BOBBY!!" and, instead of 
getting mad about it, rubbed that spunk all over her 
skin, across her inverted nipples, and up onto her 
neck, and all around her belly and even between her 
legs, though I doubt seriously those tight pussy lips 
let anything in.

It took us ten minutes to calm down and then we went 
swimming again to clean up. By then we'd been gone a 
long time and what with Claire probably wondering where 
the hell Donna was, I figured we'd better get back.

It was on the walk back that Donna told me she'd been 
in love with me since she was eleven, and that I'd 
broken her heart at least three dozen times, and that 
every girl in the posse felt exactly the same way. 
Except Claire, of course.

Little did Donna know.

She also told me that her virginity was mine, whether I 
took it later today or ten years from today. Then, very 
seriously, she said that she couldn't be my girlfriend, 
because that really would cause problems in the posse, 
and that she hoped I understood.

For once, as I strolled in that minefield, I managed to 
step miss every single mine.

Until we got back home, that is. Claire was sitting on 
the porch, and she was pissed. 


CHAPTER SEVEN
-------------

I probably should have felt bad. It was clear that 
Claire, when Donna hadn't come over like she had 
promised, had been worried about where her friend was. 
The funny thing was that she reacted to seeing us like 
a parent does whose kids have been missing.

"Where the HELL have you two been?" she yelled. "I was 
about to call the POLICE because I thought you must be 
DEAD!"

Then she saw our swimming suits, which we were still 
wearing, and our clothes bundled up in our towels.

"You went swimming without me." she said, making it 
sound like we'd killed puppies for fun. She stood up 
suddenly, facing Donna. "Did you...?"


Donna looked the Sheriff right in the eye and said "I 
did not. And it's none of your business if I DID!"

Claire started to argue and they went inside. I could 
hear their yells as they argued about whose business it 
was, and what had we been doing if we didn't do that 
and on and on. 

I stayed outside, where it was safe. It turned out to 
be a nice sunset, and the stars were beautiful too. I 
could still hear them yelling at each other as I 
spotted Orion.

Donna was different than the other girls in that she 
didn't accede to Clair's rule that we could only have 
one... liaison... until all of the girls had done the 
deed with me. She rationalized that, since I hadn't 
taken her virginity, then she should be allowed to do 
things with me whenever we felt like it until such time 
as I HAD taken her virginity. She looked at it as sort 
of a loophole, I guess. 

As for me, I was pretty sure, based on how tight her 
opening had been when I probed it with my tongue, that 
when she actually DID lose her virginity, it would be a 
painful affair. And, while I wanted to fuck Miss 
September in the worst way, I wasn't too sure I wanted 
her to associate me with that pain for the rest of her 
life. 

On the other hand, I loved making her nipples pop out 
and, over the next month, we managed to create 
situations when there was both time and opportunity for 
me to suck on her breasts for fifteen or twenty 
minutes. At those times either her hand, or mine, would 
snake into her pants and rub her off to an orgasm. We 
both made sure there was something around to muffle her 
cries of pleasure. We used, at one time or another, a 
bed pillow, couch pillow, my shirt (which didn't work 
very well), a towel from the bathroom and, of all 
things, one of her mother's dresses. That last one was 
in her house, while her parents were gone and she was 
doing the laundry because that was one of her chores 
that day.

She also decided to learn how to suck my cock, to 
reward me for the fact that each time I suckled at her 
sensitive inverted nipples, they stayed out a few 
seconds longer before slowly being sucked back into her 
tit flesh. 

It happened one day when she came over to see Claire 
about something, and Claire wasn't home yet from a 
dentist appointment. So we used the opportunity to 
play. At one point she was on her knees, down by my 
hip, playing with my hard prick. She stared at it as 
she slid her hand up and down and then her hand stopped 
in the down position. She just held that position and I 
lifted my head to look at her. She looked up at me and 
had what I could only call a wary look in her eye. 

"Monique talked to me the other day." she said.

"OK." I said.

"She wanted to know why it was taking so long for us 
to... you know."

"Don't worry about it. We'll get there when the time is 
right." I said. Donna had suggested to me several times 
that I needed to take what was 'mine'. But I didn't 
want to rock the boat. Things had improved between me 
and Robby a little bit. She wasn't so snippy all the 
time. I had gotten the idea that she didn't like me 
sticking my prick in her friends. 

She wouldn't talk about it, but she had begun to talk 
to me again every so often. And even though I wanted to 
fuck Donna, I was having enough fun with her that I 
didn't NEED to fuck her. Does that make sense? And I 
still didn't know that the other girls wanted to do it 
with me again, but couldn't because I hadn't finished 
my assigned task. There were still two cherries on the 
tree.

"Just tell them I won't do it to you." I said.

"I can't tell them that. They'd want to know why and 
you won't tell me and I don't know." she complained. "I 
know you say not to worry about it, but I can't help 
it. I WANT you to, and I know you know that, and 
believe me I can tell you'd LIKE to" she took time to 
squeeze my obviously very erect penis, "but still... 
you won't."

She had reminded me several times that she had released 
me from my promise not to fuck her. I hadn't told her 
why I thought she'd hate me if I did fuck her, because 
I knew what her reaction would be. She'd say she'd 
never hate me, and that it would be fine and all that, 
and then it would hurt bad and she'd bleed or something 
and hate me anyway.

I spoke with my most mysterious sounding voice, which I 
practiced in the mirror to get just right: "You let me 
worry about when the time is right."

"SEE?" she said dismally. Then "Hey I forgot. Remember 
I said Monique talked to me?"

"Yeah?" I said.

"Well she told me what she did... to you... you know... 
with her mouth?"

Wow. I didn't think Monique would tell anybody about 
that. Oral sex was something you heard about, but only 
bad kids did that kind of thing.

"So I thought maybe I could do that to you... to sort 
of pay you back for making me feel so good." she said.

I kind of liked that idea. I thought of myself as a bad 
boy. 

"OK" I said.

"Monique made me swear not to tell the others, though, 
and you can't either." she said solemnly.

"OK" I said again. Shooting my spunk on Donna's belly 
and between her legs even was a real gas, but the 
thought of feeling her mouth on me had me REALLY going.

Donna wasn't taking any chances. She was like that. She 
made me make all kinds of promises to her, and then, 
just as often, took it all back. This time, once I 
crossed my heart and agreed to let a thousand needles 
poke my eye if I broke the promise, she went about 
achieving perfection in the mysterious thing called a 
blow job... with gusto. I personally think she had as 
much fun sucking on my stiff dork as I did sucking on 
those amazing nipples of hers. The first dozen or so 
times, she had to masturbate me to get me off, but 
after a few weeks of practice, she learned some nuances 
that led to me filling her mouth one day.

There were three reasons I didn't warn her she was 
about to taste my nectar. First, she had endured having 
my cum splatter all over her at one time or another. We 
frequented the creek where she had her first orgasm 
with my tongue stuck in her and when she got Old 
Faithful to erupt and it went all over the place, we 
simply went into the creek and washed off. So I knew 
that just having my cum touch her didn't bother her. 

The second reason I didn't warn her was that one time 
when she didn't know I was looking at her, I saw her 
dip one finger in the spunk I had spurted on her and 
taste it. I remember holding my breath to see what she 
would do then. She looked over at me and I managed to 
make it look like I was looking in another direction 
and... she did it again. So I knew she didn't find the 
taste horrible. And lastly, I was so enthralled with 
the feelings she was producing with her mouth, tongue 
and teeth that I just lay there in a trance and let it 
happen. 

When it did, and my cock painted the inside of her 
mouth and throat, she gave a strangled little yelp and 
lifted her mouth off my still spurting prick. There 
were strings of cum hanging from her lips, like she was 
some deranged jungle girl with rabies or something, and 
her eyes were real big and I couldn't help but laugh. 

While I laughed, Donna was in the process of... 
processing. She processed the texture, and the taste, 
and what it was, and the fact that I was laughing at 
her, and she flopped down on top of me and rubbed her 
spermy lips all over my face, trying to kiss me while I 
tried not to let her kiss me. She finally quit and 
pushed up off of me, licking and smacking her lips. I 
heard her swallow once too. 

"THERE!" she yelled at me. "How does THAT taste you 
stupid boy?" 

I laughed again, only a little uncomfortable that my 
sperm was smeared all over my face and lips, but she 
was so beautiful naked and wild-eyed that I just loved 
being around her. 

"Actually, you don't taste so awful." she commented, 
wiping her mouth with her fingers. She looked at them 
for a minute and then sucked them into her mouth. Then 
she looked down at Mr. Happy, who was taking a nap in a 
puddle of spunk, and she went down there and licked all 
around him before sucking him back into her mouth to 
clean him off. 

It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that 
resulted in her drinking my cum on a more or less 
regular basis. 

The rest of the girls groused about how much time Donna 
and I spent together. They thought she was taking 
entirely too long to get her cherry picked. Claire 
talked to me about it more than once, and I told her 
there were "issues" that we were working on. I finally 
suggested that maybe I should just rape Donna, if that 
would make Claire and the girls happy. Claire shut up 
about it after that. 

The only girl who never said anything to me about 
hurrying up and getting the job done was Robby. It 
didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't 
much interested in what I had hanging between my legs, 
Donna's claim that they all had been in love with me 
for years notwithstanding. 

Well, now that I think about it, I'd have to say Robby 
didn't say anything up to a point. I had routinely been 
astonished by these girls, and one or two of their 
mothers too, so I should have been braced for the 
unknown when Miss September skipped up to me one day 
and said "Wanna go swimming?" 

Don't misunderstand me. Donna had done that a lot. She 
liked that swimming spot and so far at least, we had 
kept it more or less a secret what went on there. Or so 
I thought. I should have known better. They were one 
for all and all for one, after all. So her invitation 
didn't surprise me and, in my own defense, it shouldn't 
have. It was what she said next that blew me away. 

"Can Roberta come? She wants to see what we do." 

Claire hadn't warned me about this at all. Apparently 
the Sheriff wasn't in as much control of her posse as 
she thought. I had been "punished" (no sex with Claire 
for as long as she could take it) for going swimming 
with Donna... without Claire... who had wanted to watch 
as I seduced her friend. I think Claire looked at it 
like we just needed a little friendly help to get the 
deed done. But, Donna had said she would have been 
creeped out if Claire watched. Yet, now, for some 
reason that was probably completely unfathomable to a 
boy, she didn't mind if Robby watched us get it on. 

The first thing I thought of was her secret. "But... 
she'll see your nipples." I said. 

She looked at me like I was from the county nut farm. 
"Silly, she already knows about THAT. She wants to see 
something ELSE." 

"Claire doesn't know about this, does she." I stated. 
It wasn't a question, but I wanted confirmation. 

"Claire doesn't have to know everything." said Donna, 
unconcerned. Yes, there was definitely rebellion 
brewing in the ranks. I started to complain that the 
last time we'd done something contrary to what Claire 
wanted, I'd been punished. But to do that I'd have to 
admit what the punishment was, and they didn't know 
about me and Claire. So I kept quiet. 

Guys do that a lot. When there is danger that the truth 
might bring unhappiness, we keep our mouths shut. Say 
for instance you run over something with your father's 
prize car and it pokes a hole in the tire. It's not a 
really BAD hole, but the air leaks out slowly. 

So, instead of fessing up that you took the car behind 
the abandoned gas station to make out, where there are 
all these boards with nails in them lying around on the 
ground, you just keep filling the tire up with air, 
hoping, somehow that it will magically fix itself. 
Then, while the family is on the way to Uncle John and 
Aunt Melba's house, the tire fails and you're stuck out 
in the middle of nowhere in a hundred and ten degree 
temperatures with cranky parents who know they didn't 
run over anything to make the tire go flat. 

That's probably not the best example of what happens 
when we guys SHOULD fess up and take the heat, but opt 
to cut and run instead. But it's the best one I could 
think up on the spot, so there you go. 

My emotions at that moment were a little roiled. Robby 
had been acting very, very cool toward me for the last 
few months. If all this cherry popping had a down side, 
it was that it seemed to drive my one real female 
friend away from me. And now this. I didn't know how to 
react to it. But what was I supposed to say to Donna? 
Or to Robby for that matter? 

"Are you sure she wants to come with us?" I finally 
asked. "I didn't think she wanted anything to do with 
me any more." 

Donna had this way of looking at you like you were a 
bug under a microscope. It was very unnerving. She 
looked at me like that now. 

"How do you THINK she should feel? You haven’t paid any 
attention to her for months." Donna could talk like she 
could look. 

"Well..." I drew it out. "It always seems like she was 
mad at me or something." 

"Boys are so stupid sometimes." said Donna to her 
invisible friend. Then she took that tone that women 
use when they talk to little boys, explaining things to 
them. "You remember how it hurt my feelings that you 
never asked me out?" 

"Yeah." I said. 

"Well Roberta has NEVER been asked out... by ANYBODY." 

Of course she was never asked out. She was Knobby 
Robby. She played football with us guys and beat us at 
races, and went fishing with us once in a while. She 
just wasn't the sort of girl that guys asked out. I had 
another flash of intelligence at that moment and 
thought it would be a VERY bad idea to say what I had 
just thought. 

"Maybe that's because she's so young." I offered. 

"She's the same age as the rest of us you ninny!" Donna 
said. "I thought we already HAD this conversation. No, 
the reason nobody - she looked pointedly at me - asks 
her out is because she just doesn't have big breasts or 
wear makeup or try to make herself look sexy for stupid 
boys!" 

Donna was very logical, something I liked sometimes... 
and hated at other times... at least in her. 

"OK! Fine!" I said. I was getting just a tad bit surly 
about all this stuff I was supposed to figure out 
without any real clues. 

So I went and got my suit and promptly got caught by 
Claire, who saw me with the towel roll and wanted to 
know who I was going swimming with. 

By this time I was tired of trying to play politics. 
"Donna and Roberta" I said, uncharacteristically using 
their real names. 

My sister's mouth tightened into a firm line. "I'm 
going too." she said. 

I looked to make sure no adults were around and then 
said "OK, but we're all going to get naked and frolic 
in the grass like little elves." 

She shot me a look filled with broken bits of glass and 
old rusty razor blades, but she actually RAN to her 
room to get her stuff so I couldn't leave her behind. 

When I came out of the house and Donna was standing 
there waiting, Claire was right behind me. She looked 
down her nose at Donna. "Nice of you to invite ME." she 
huffed. 

Donna got her own back up. "Well, if you weren't always 
trying to boss me around I might invite you more 
often." 

So I walked between them on the way over to Robby's 
house. 

When we got there Roberta's mother was out in the 
garden. We had come through the alley and, as we 
entered the back gate we chorused "Hi Mrs. Simms." she 
stood up and put one hand in her back, like it ached 
and shaded her eyes with her other hand. She was a 
larger version of her daughter, thin and spare, with a 
flat chest and chestnut hair. She was the best cook in 
town and raised a lot of food in their garden that she 
canned in the fall. 

"Hi kids." she said. "Swimming, eh? Roberta's in the 
house. You all be careful now." 

We three chorused "We will. Thank you." We had manners 
that we used sparingly, mostly around each other's 
parents. 

Roberta was in the dining room, putting a picture 
puzzle together, of all things. I always thought of her 
as an active person, never standing still for long. I 
knew she was a big fan of Nancy Drew, so she sat and 
read, but that's the only relaxed picture I could ever 
conjure up of her in my mind. She looked up at the 
three of us and then fixed her eyes on Donna. 

Donna threw up her hands. "She invited herself!" 

That got Claire going again. "I thought we were 
FRIENDS!" she squealed. Her eyes started to fill up 
with tears. 

Donna looked shocked, somehow. "Well we ARE friends 
Claire Bear, but what are we supposed to be able to do 
if you're there? He's your BROTHER, for pity's sake." 

I learned two more things in that simple interchange. I 
learned that Claire could make major social mistakes. 
She had forgotten that the girls would naturally assume 
she had an aversion to seeing her brother not only 
naked, but engaging in sex play with her friends. 

And, I learned that they called each other by the 
nicknames I had given them... that they purported to 
hate. At least one of them did, and the ease with which 
she'd used that name suggested it wasn't uncommon. 

I spoke up. "She's seen me naked all her life." I said. 
I turned to Claire and addressed her as if I were 
giving her information she couldn't possibly know 
already. "We sometimes skinny dip down at the creek." 

Claire turned beet red as she realized what had 
happened. Belatedly she tried to ride my coat tails. 
"That's right. I've seen him without clothes lots of 
times." 

That took care of the skinny dipping issue, but not 
what else was supposed to go on. 

Donna's pragmatic nature just flowed out of her. "Well, 
wouldn't it seem pretty... icky to you to see him... 
you know... do things to us?" 

That was when I learned that Robby expected me to "do" 
something with her while we were swimming. This 
standing there, forgotten, was paying off handsomely. 

"I never said he could do anything to me!" yipped 
Roberta. 

So much for getting decent information by 
eavesdropping. 

Claire was fast on her feet, I'll give her that. "Well, 
I saw what he did to Marge. You know, when she showed 
us? And that wasn't so horrible." she said. "And I've 
heard all about it from each one too. Besides, it was 
my idea in the first place." 

Donna still looked somewhat shocked. "OK, but you have 
to promise not to butt in. Bobby and I already know 
what we like, and I don't want anyone to mess that up." 

My, my. Donna was getting downright assertive. 

Knobby Robby said "Yeah, me too." which didn't make any 
sense at all. Hadn't she just said she didn't want me 
doing anything to her anyway? I stared at her and she 
noticed. "What are YOU looking at?" she stuck out her 
chin. 

I called on suave and debonair. "I'm looking at a 
beautiful young woman, in the blush of health and 
vitality." I'd heard that on a commercial somewhere and 
had been waiting for a chance to use that line. 

Robby scowled. "You are just so full of it. I don't 
think I'll let you touch me after all." 

For some reason I'll never understand, I wanted to kiss 
Knobby Robby right then. I wanted to kiss her on the 
lips and just melt her into a puddle. I stepped toward 
her. There must have been something in my eyes, because 
Robby's eyes got real big and she put her hands up in 
front of her and stepped back. 

"Don't you touch me you... you... you TURD!" 

That was the Robby I knew and loved. I not only touched 
her, I tackled her, knocking her backwards onto a big 
overstuffed chair that was nearby. My fingers went to 
her sides and I tickled her as she squirmed and 
squealed and then, to my immense satisfaction, laughed. 
Her knee started kicking at me, trying to find my 
balls. That wasn't unusual. Whenever Robby wrestled, 
she used every dirty trick in the book. 

So I used one tool I grabbed her flat little breasts 
and gave them a squeeze. 

You'd have thought I used a cattle prod on her. She 
went rigid and her face strained into a mask of half 
confusion, half surprise and half over-joyedness, if 
there is such a word. While she was frozen I kissed her 
on the lips. It wasn't a good kiss. It wasn't even a 
reciprocal kiss. But I got my lips on at least one of 
hers, enough that she knew it was supposed to BE a 
kiss. 

Then I stood up and stepped back. "How's THAT for being 
full of it?" 

I was all proud of myself in a caveman kind of way. 
Until Donna whacked me in the back of the head with her 
sneaker, which she'd taken off when I first attacked 
Robby. She hit me hard too. 

"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" she yelled at me. Claire was 
moving toward me too, and I was too busy ducking 
another swing of Donna's to be able to tell whether or 
not she actually posed a threat. I rolled down to the 
floor, trying to get away and ran into Robby's foot. I 
realized she was standing over me, one foot on either 
side of me. She had stood up when I went to the floor 
and stepped over me. 

"STOP!" she yelled. 

Everybody stopped. It was awfully quiet. 

"He wasn't hurting me." said Robby. Wonder of 
wonders... she was actually coming to my rescue! 

"Well it looked like it to me." said Donna. 

"Bobby! You're such an ass hole!" That was Claire. She 
almost never used language that bad. 

"I SAID he wasn't hurting me." said Roberta Simms, who 
had suddenly gotten pretty assertive herself somehow. 
"This is between me and Bobby. You two butt OUT!" she 
commanded. 

And damned if they didn't simmer down. Roberta stepped 
over me and turned around and stepped over me again, so 
she could bend over and look at me. She was still 
straddling me, or I should say straddling me again. She 
had on shorts, and, if you were Roberta, that meant 
they were loose. I happened to glance up the leg of her 
shorts. 

"What are YOU looking at?" she growled. She could 
deliver that line perfectly. 

"You." I said. 

Then she sat down on my stomach. She sat down hard 
enough to make me go "Oooff". 

She leaned down until her face was right in front of 
mine, her hands on my shoulders. "I might let you touch 
me after all." she said softly. 

How about that? Knobby Robby reacted well to the 
caveman treatment! I never would have believed it. Then 
she stood up and stepped back over me, leaving me lying 
on the floor. 

"So, are we going swimming or not?" she asked Donna and 
Claire. Both of them were staring at her like she had 
two heads or something. 

Donna jerked her head. "Yes." she said. 

Robby looked at Claire. "How about you? You up for 
seeing your brother do terrible things to innocent 
girls?" 

Claire took a breath. "I might watch just a little of 
it. When I'm not swimming." She tried to sound bored, 
but her cheeks were pink and everybody knew it. 

Twenty minutes later I was at old Mr. Hawkins' hay 
field again, this time with THREE girls. I knew what to 
expect from one of them. As far as the other two, I had 
no idea. 

It was surprisingly routine in an astonishing way. When 
we got there we all rolled out our towels, Donna 
putting hers right beside mine. Then she started 
stripping down to change into her swimming suit like 
she was in a cabana somewhere and everybody else 
couldn't see her get naked. I guess she had decided 
that, if the other two weren't making any objections, 
she was just going to act like they weren't there. 

Robby and Claire stood there uncertainly and something 
perverse made me act like Donna. I pulled off my shirt 
and then undid my shorts and let them drop. I kicked 
off my Keds, which I had worn without socks, and, after 
dropping my shirt on the towel, bent over to push my 
underwear down. 

I was about half hard, from seeing Miss September's 
skin beginning to appear, and it was kind of exciting, 
for some odd reason, to be getting naked in front of 
Robby too. I discounted Claire, because there was no 
way she was going to do anything with me with the other 
two girls there. 

Robby was staring, her eyes riveted to my cock, but I 
couldn't tell whether she was repelled or attracted to 
what she saw. Her mouth was open, but it could have 
been either shock or interest that caused that. 

Donna put her suit on, so I did too, even though I'd 
have rather that we skinny dipped. But it was possible 
for other people to show up at the hay field, though no 
one ever had since Donna and I had been going there. 
Then Donna grabbed my hand and pulled me to the water. 

It was high summer now, and hot, and the water felt 
good. I didn't even mind the mud between my toes. Donna 
tried to climb up on me and dunk me and she was 
giggling and laughing, but I wrestled her into a kiss 
instead of playing around. It was a nice kiss and soon 
she was pressing her body up against mine and rubbing 
her pussy up against the lump in my swimming suit. She 
had just started doing that lately, and I loved it 
because that suggested that she wasn't afraid of me any 
more. 

Her statement that her virginity was mine whenever I 
wanted it rang hollow after I made her compare the 
thickness of my finger, which HAD been in her pussy, to 
my cock, which had not. I could tell in little flinches 
and a certain stiffness in her body whenever my groin 
touched hers. But that had faded and now she liked 
being in full contact with me. Maybe she had been 
working on stretching herself like we'd talked about.

This is hard to explain, but, once I'd decided NOT to 
pick Donna's cherry, it made our sexual play MORE fun 
and LESS nervous, at least from my point of view. It 
was kind of like we weren't playing baseball any more, 
so I didn't have to make it to home plate. 

Instead, we were just hitting pop flies to each other, 
or playing catch and we could just enjoy what was 
happening without there being any winners or losers. 
Donna, of course, didn't know I'd decided it would be 
too traumatic for her if I stuffed my rock hard cock up 
in her tight little pussy and spurted her full of baby 
makers. So her attitude about it was different. She 
occasionally asked me why I hadn't "made her a woman" 
yet.

She did it now. 

"Bobby," she said between kisses. "When are you going 
to let me feel what it's like to have a penis inside 
me? 

"Are you in a hurry or something?" I asked. 

"No, but I just know it will feel really nice." 

Girls loved to lie to themselves about sex. They always 
believed that bells would ring and the sun would shine 
and they'd float off to some wonderful place the first 
time they let a man into them.

What I remembered about each of the girls whose 
virginity I'd destroyed was that "OWWWW" that 
inevitably came tearing our of their mouths. True, they 
got over it, but Donna was so much tighter than any of 
the others that I was really worried about that. 

"Be patient." I said. "It's going to hurt the first 
time. Trust me on that. Didn't the other girls tell you 
about the pain?" 

"Well, it was mentioned, but not like it was any big 
deal." she said, kissing me again. 

That's another thing that happens to women. They 
somehow forget about the pain. When I grew up I learned 
that there are chemicals released in the brain that 
actually make women forget the actual pain of 
childbirth after it's all over. That's why women have 
children again. If they could remember what I've 
witnessed on several occasions, they wouldn't let a man 
near them again for all the tea in China. 

I kissed her back. "Donna, the last thing I want you to 
remember about me is that you hated the first time you 
had real sex." 

"You're sweet." she said. "I want you to lick my pussy 
now." 

"Now?" I asked. "In front of Robby and Claire?" 

"Roberta asked to watch." she said. "Claire invited 
herself, so she'll just have to deal with it." 

Robby chose that moment to wade up next to us. I hadn't 
watched as she put on her swimming suit, but only 
because I had been kissing Donna and that took all my 
attention. 

"What are you guys doing?" asked Robby. 

"I'm getting ready to get my pussy licked." said Donna 
in the same tone of voice she might have used to say 
"I'm getting ready to buy that cute little frock over 
there." 

I turned to Robby. "Are you sure you want to watch 
this?" 

She stuck out her jaw again and clouded up. I 
remembered what Donna had said about nobody EVER asking 
Robby out on a date. I cut her off before she could say 
something that would spoil the mood. "OK, OK, but if 
you watch I'm going to want to do it to you too." 

Her reaction... and Donna's was satisfying. Robby 
blushed and her mouth opened again, but I could see in 
her eyes that she wasn't horrified or offended or 
anything like that. She was actually pleased. Donna 
slapped me without any real malice and said "You are so 
crude Bobby Watkins." 

I said "What? She's getting ready to watch two people 
get naked and have some fun and I'm the one who's 
suddenly crude?" 

Claire waded up about then. "Who's being crude? As if I 
didn't know?" 

I turned to her and said "I'm getting ready to lick 
Donna's pussy. I told Robby I might want to lick hers 
too. How about you? I'm having a three-for-the-price-
of-one sale today." 

That ruined the sexual mood, because I was suddenly 
being splashed by three girls who shrieked about what a 
pervert I was, and how terrible I was and all that. I 
ducked under the water and started groping for swim 
suit bottoms, trying to pull them down. I got my hands 
on a lot of flesh, and almost got a knee in my face. I 
never got any bottoms pulled down much, but it caused a 
stampede and I was able to surface and breathe again. I 
started chasing girls around in the water, grabbing for 
breasts and growling and stuff. I even chased Claire, 
who tried even harder than the others to get away from 
me. 

Robby tried to stay and fight at one point but I put my 
arms around her and squeezed hers against her body. She 
couldn't do anything except look at me wide eyed as I 
squeezed her buttocks and pulled her lower body against 
mine.
 
"You're playing with the big boys now." I said to her 
face, only a couple of inches from mine. "I'm going to 
kiss you again." I warned her. 

And damned if she didn't let me! 

I gave her a thirty second smooch and, though she kept 
her lips tightly closed, she pushed her face back at 
me. I loosened my grip during that kiss, but all she 
did was bring her hands to my waist and hold on. 

When it was over she had a look in her eye I hadn't 
seen in there before. "That wasn't so bad I suppose." 
she said. Then her hand slipped down between my legs 
and she grabbed a handful of my manhood and she 
squeezed. "But don't try to take my suit off again." 
She squeezed a little harder and then put her leg 
behind mine and pushed with both her hands on my chest, 
knocking me backward in the water. she was laughing as 
I let myself go under. 

I stood back up and started wading toward shore. Donna 
and Claire had their heads together, like they were 
planning something, or had been watching me kiss Robby 
and were talking about it. I went up on the grass and 
then over to my towel, where I lay down in the hot sun. 

"I'm all lonely over here!" I yelled out to nobody in 
particular. 

Donna and Claire came out of the water together. Robby 
lingered, playing with the water, making a fist and 
closing it to make the water squirt upward into the 
air. I think she was a little nervous. 

Claire laid down on her towel on her back, sun tanning, 
and Donna laid down on top of me for some long, hot 
kisses. I rubbed her still-wet back and slid my hands 
into her bottoms, playing with her butt cheeks. We just 
let things progress more or less naturally. I undid her 
top at one point and started getting her nipples to pop 
out. 

I saw Robby sit down on her towel out of the corner of 
my eye, but didn't look at her. Donna started making 
appreciative sounds. She had learned that, once her 
nipples stuck out, she could squeeze just below one 
when I switched to another and it would stay out. This 
time when I switched and she did that, I grasped the 
first nipple between my thumb and fingers and pulled on 
it gently.
 
"Oooo not so hard." she murmured. "It's sensitive." 

So I switched to just holding it firmly enough to keep 
it out. But then I wanted to feel her pussy, so 
eventually I let go of the nipple and slid my hand down 
to her bottoms again. I heard a gasp from Robby as I 
slid my hand into the front of Donna's suit and her 
legs popped wide open, giving me room to play. She was 
wet, and it was slippery wet, not water wet. 

I wormed my middle finger into her. That was something 
I'd been doing a lot, sort of half-heartedly trying to 
stretch her out a little. She was still tight, but my 
finger went into her pretty easily now, and she loved 
it when I hooked that finger and pulled up, mashing her 
clitty. Her hips came up off the ground and she moaned 
into my mouth. 

I added another finger to stretch her some more and 
started sawing those fingers in and out of her rapidly, 
trying to bring her off and she got more violent in her 
gyrations. Then her head went up, stretching her neck, 
and mouth pulled into a grimace and I knew it was about 
to happen. Sure enough she started making coyote sounds 
that got louder and louder until she was wailing. 

I felt hands beating on my naked back. Robby screamed 
"STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING HER!" 

I started to pull my hand out of Donna's swim suit and 
one of her hands slapped on top to hold me there. Her 
legs came together too. 

"NO!" she gasped. Her head turned toward Robby and she 
said "He's not hurting me Robby. It feels WONDERFUL!" 

"Oh" said Robby, settling back onto her towel.
 
For some reason we all looked over at Claire, who was 
up on her side, supporting herself with one elbow, 
watching. As soon as she saw us looking at her though, 
she rolled back onto her back. Like she could make it 
look like she hadn't been watching. "I knew that." she 
said to the sky. 

"Oh really?" asked Robby. "It sounded like he was 
killing her to me. So how did YOU know it was OK?" 

Claire waved one hand. "I've made those sounds myself, 
lots of times." 

"OH REALLY?" said Robby, her voice getting louder. 
"Well maybe you can explain that to me. You said you 
got your cherry popped. OK, so WHEN WERE ALL THESE 
OTHER TIMES YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?!" she shouted. 

Oh boy. Claire had really stepped in it this time. She 
was going to have to learn to think before she rattled 
off such interesting information. 

She waved her hand again in the air, somewhat vaguely. 
"Oh... you know... when I masturbate." 

I could tell she was rattled. She had just admitted to 
masturbating casually, something girls just didn't do 
back then. I guess it was all she could come up with on 
the spur of the moment. 

"Don't STOP." said Donna suddenly, dragging out the 
last word in a complaining tone of voice. I realized my 
hand was lying between her legs limply. 

"How 'bout I use something else?" I asked, licking her 
lips. 

"Ohhhh yessss, I'm ready." she whined. I rolled away 
from her and she started shimmying out of her bottoms. 

I spared a glance at Robby and her mouth was open 
again. She was leaning forward and she looked pinker 
than the sun should have been able to account for. I 
grinned at her and crawled between Donna's legs. She 
drew her knees up toward her chest, lifting her feet 
off the ground and let them fall apart, baring her 
pussy completely. I leaned in and gave her pussy a long 
lick from bottom to top.

"Ohhhh yes Bobby, I just LOVE that." she cooed. 

I didn't have to press my face so hard into her sex to 
get her lips pried open now, and then I lapped and 
tickled her clit with my tongue. I slid two fingers 
into her pussy and started moving them in and out of 
her and she started to wind up. She'd have made a 
pretty good air raid siren and, once again, I was glad 
we were out where nobody could hear us, or at least if 
they did they'd just assume it was some kids playing 
some game. 

Donna slammed her heels into the ground and shoved her 
pussy up into my face as she came. She pushed so hard 
that only her heels and the back of her neck were 
touching the towel. I cupped her buttocks and just 
mooshed my face all around in her pussy. I was having a 
great time and so was she.
 
When Donna finally went limp I rose to my knees, 
sitting back on my calves. I looked over at Robby who 
was breathing almost as hard as Donna was. She was 
stock still, like she had been frozen, but as I looked 
at her I saw her blink. I looked past her at Claire, 
she was on her side again, her hand inside her own 
swimsuit bottoms. 

Donna rolled her head and saw the same thing. "CLAIRE!" 
she gasped. 

Claire was past caring. She must have been close, 
because she huffed "I don't care." and rolled onto her 
back, spreading her legs. Her hand went into overdrive 
and her hips bucked as she came. I saw Robby turn and 
look at Claire, and then she turned back to look at me. 

"You want to go back in?" I asked her. We both knew I 
meant the water. She nodded uncertainly and I stood up. 
The front of my suit was tented out where my erection 
pushed the wet fabric away from my body, but I didn't 
do anything about it. It was right in front of Robby's 
face as I held out my hand to pull her up. 

Like she was in a trance Robby took my hand and I 
pulled. She unfolded and stood up, swaying a little. I 
kept her hand in mine and pulled her toward the water. 
She didn't pull away from me at all and I led her out 
until the water was at her chest. 

"You OK?" I asked. 

Her head turned and she looked at me. She still didn't 
say anything. Her breathing had slowed a little. I 
splashed water up onto my face, rubbing Donna's 
slippery juice off. 

Robby finally said something. "Would you do that to 
me?" she asked.

"Now?" I asked back. 

"No, I mean would you actually DO that... with me... if 
I wanted you to?" She clarified her question. 

"Absolutely." I said. "But only if you wanted me to." I 
was still holding her hand. "DO you want me to?" I 
asked. 

"I don't know." she said softly. "I don't know..." she 
repeated. "That was very strange, Bobby." She looked up 
on the grass where Donna was lying spread eagled, still 
naked, just soaking up the sun. Claire still had her 
hand in her bottoms, but it wasn't moving very much. 

I just looked at Robby for a while, waiting for her to 
say something else. Finally I asked: "If I asked you to 
kiss me... you know a real kiss... would you do it?" 

Her head went up a little as she looked in my eyes. 
"Yes." 

"Would you kiss me please?" I asked. 

Time slowed as Knobby Robby's angular face came toward 
mine, her eyes drifting closed, and her lips pursing to 
meet mine.

She didn't put her arms around me. In fact, it seemed 
like she didn't know what to do with her hands. But she 
lifted her face to mine and I touched my lips to hers. 
Without our arms around each other, and in the water, 
it was hard to press with any force, so I opted for 
loose lips that I knew would feel spongy to hers. She 
was tight lipped at first, but as the kiss went on her 
lips finally relaxed a little.

I pulled back. 

She looked at me again. "That was nice Bobby." she 
said. 

"You feel like making out a little?" I asked. 

"I don't know how." she said. 

"I'll teach you if you want." I responded. 

"OK." she said simply.
 
I had to pull her out of the water just like I had led 
her into it. She wasn't the wired up and active Knobby 
Robby I knew so well. I knew she must be either 
thinking furiously, or that her senses were overwhelmed 
with her feelings. For that reason I thought it would 
be a good idea to just go slow and make sure Robby had 
a nice time. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 
-------------

It occurred to me when we got to the towels that I had 
a little problem. I knew instinctively that Robby would 
be uncomfortable getting naked with me. I suddenly 
thought that maybe if we were naked in the water, it 
might be easier for her, and right about then Donna got 
up from her towel, heading for the creek. She acted 
like we weren't there. 

I turned and faced Robby. "You want to skinny dip?" I 
asked her. 

"I thought you were going to teach me to make out." she 
said, a little complaint in her voice. 

"We can do that while we are skinny dipping." I 
explained. 

"Oh... OK." she said. 

She stood there, not moving. 

"We have to take our suits off to skinny dip" I said. 
Like I told you before, I was a master of pointing out 
the obvious. 

I bent over and took my trunks off, exposing my penis 
to Robby for the second time in her life. I stood back 
up and she was still standing there, frozen. 

"You want me to help you?" I asked... helpfully. 

Robby licked her lips. Now she stared right at me. Her 
mouth opened and closed. 
It was time for my routine "I won't hurt you" speech, 
which had put so many girls at ease before this. I was 
pretty accomplished at it by now. 

"Look Robby," I said. "You don't have to worry about 
anything. I'm not going to hurt you." I got ready to 
tell her all about how she would be in control, and 
that I'd only do what she wanted me to do and all that 
stuff. But I never got the chance. 

"Of COURSE you're not going to hurt me!" she broke in. 
"If you do I'll break your arm." she said heatedly. The 
steel was back in her eye. This was the Robby I knew. 

And, just like that, she whipped off her suit, as if we 
skinny dipped every day and I'd seen her naked a 
thousand times. 

She looked at me and said "So?" I think she was waiting 
for me to laugh at her. And then that perfect line: 
"What are YOU looking at?" 

Robby was different from the other girls for more 
reasons than that she was athletic and a tomboy. She 
wasn't beautiful in the usual sense. Her face was 
angular and long. It had the same thin appearance that 
the rest of her body had, with little flesh to cover 
her knobby knees and elbows. But as I looked at her 
body I could see where her feminine side was trying to 
grow in. 

Her hips had some swell to them that I'd never noticed 
before and her breasts looked smaller than they 
actually were because she was broad shouldered and wide 
in the chest too. As she stood there, letting me look 
and waiting for me to call her flat-chested or be as 
cruel as other boys were to her, I realized that, in a 
few years, she was going to be highly sought after by 
the opposite sex. 

I thought she was cute. But what do you say to your pal 
of many years when you see her sexually for the first 
time? I mean this was a buddy who you climbed trees 
with, and ran races against, and stared at the clouds, 
picking out elephants and volcanoes and Superman in 
their shapes. 

What came out of my mouth was: "If I didn't already 
have a boner you'd give me one Robby." 

I know, I know, it wasn't poetic or romantic or any of 
that stuff. But Robby and I had never used romantic 
speech around each other. And the look on her face as 
it bloomed into a tentative smile made my heart soar. 
Of all the girls, even including Claire, Robby was the 
one I wanted to please the most. I didn't stop to try 
to figure out why. Maybe she just deserved it more or 
something. And I knew it had been the hardest thing 
she'd ever done to get naked in front of me. 

"You're so full of shit." she said. Then she put her 
hands on her hips and suddenly she WAS sexy! 

"No I'm not. You have a lot of sexy attributes" I said. 

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she said. 

I saw Claire lean towards us, like she was interested 
in what I was going to say. Donna was still in the 
creek, wading around. 

"Well, OK," I started. "Your nipples look soft and big, 
like they'd fit in my mouth just perfect." 

What I was talking about was that she had cone shaped 
breasts with puffy nipples. Actually her areolas and 
nipples kind of meshed together, like the nipple hadn't 
fully formed yet or something. It gave the effect that 
her areolas WERE her nipples, and they were bigger 
around than a quarter. 

"And, your hair is so light that I can see your pussy 
lips. That's sexy." I claimed. "And the way you're 
standing right now, with your hands on your hips and 
one leg kind of out to the side. It cocks your hips a 
little bit and makes them look round, like they'd make 
a good place to put my hands when I kiss you." I was on 
a roll now. 

She was still standing there listening, and the fact 
she hadn't thrown anything at me suggested she wasn't 
at all unhappy so far. 

"And your stomach is so flat." I finished. 

"What does a flat stomach have to do with looking 
sexy?" she asked. 

"It makes me want to see what it would look like if you 
were pregnant." I said. 
I said that without even thinking about it. In fact I 
was astonished that I'd said that at all. I'd never 
even thought about why I thought flat stomachs were 
sexy. I had one other thing to say, and, since I had 
blurted out so much, I let that go too. 

"And you're... Robby. I like Robby, and that makes her 
sexy." I could feel my hard-on getting soft. I wasn't 
feeling so sexy myself. 

"It makes me feel funny inside when you say that." she 
said. 

I felt stupid standing there, talking to a naked girl. 
I sat down on my towel and motioned for her to take 
Donna's, which was now empty. She sat too. 

"I know some ways to make you feel even funnier." I 
offered. 

"I masturbate." she said. 

I think I blinked from the surprise. I didn't know why 
she said that. It was a strange thing to just pop up in 
conversation. But then again, I'd just told her how 
wonderful I thought her nipples and pussy lips were, so 
maybe it wasn't such a stretch after all. 

"Me too." I said. I didn't know what else to say. It 
was really different talking to Robby about sex. We'd 
talked about all kinds of other things, some quite 
serious, but never sex. 

"I mean I don't have my maidenhead." she added. I 
thought it was kind of cool that she used such a formal 
name for her virginity. Robby wasn't usually very 
formal.
 
I suddenly realized that Robby was telling me she was a 
sexual being. It was a leap so far from what I was used 
to that I almost didn't recognize the importance of 
what she'd just said. When I did I lay down on my side. 
I think my devious mind was trying to get her prone, 
and me prone, so we could be prone and naked at the 
same time. Baby steps. You know? 

"I can't believe I didn't figure that out." I said. 
"How long have you been doing it?" 

"Since I was ten." she said simply. 

"Wow." I said. I was impressed. I thought I knew her so 
well, and it turned out I didn't. So I confided 
something secret about me. "I didn't start doing it 
until I was almost thirteen." 

"Boys are slow." she said, like it was a simple fact 
that everyone knows, but which needs to be pointed out 
occasionally. 

I decided not to argue with her about it. She hadn't 
taken the hint and gone prone either. I tried plan B. 

"So do you want to go swimming?" I reminded her of why 
she'd taken her suit off.
 
"No." she said. 

"But I thought..." I started to point out that skinny 
dipping was what she'd agreed to do, but she cut me 
off. 

"Now that I'm naked it's not so bad. I think I just 
needed an excuse to get naked." she said. 

"So... what do you want to do?" I asked. I was still 
lying on the towel, on my side, my head propped up. 

"I think I want to kiss you." she said. 

"You THINK?" I asked. 

"This is all very strange Bobby. I've never talked to a 
boy who wanted to make me pregnant." 

"Hold on now Robby. I never said I WANTED to make you 
pregnant. I said I wondered what you'd LOOK LIKE 
pregnant." I realized that sounded kind of cold. I 
tried to warm it up a little. "I mean I think you'd 
look really sexy pregnant." 

"Do you want to kiss me or not?" she asked. Her voice 
sounded so much like the Robby I knew, and who asked me 
questions that ended in 'or not?' fairly often, that 
the whole scene just seemed ludicrous somehow. 

But I DID want to kiss her, so I didn't laugh. 

"Yes... I do." I said. 

Robby got up on all fours and crawled over beside me. 
She moved her head over mine as I rolled to my back. 
Then she let herself down until her lips touched mine.
 
Our kiss in the water had been mostly me, kissing her. 
Now I just lay there and let her kiss me. It was plain 
from the beginning that she wasn't experienced, but WAS 
motivated. She'd seen people French kissing, or heard 
about it. You didn't see that in movies back then. She 
started tentatively, but then opened her mouth just 
enough to flick her tongue out against my teeth. I let 
my tongue touch hers, tip to tip. She pressed harder 
against me immediately and her mouth opened up wider 
and in no time flat Knobby Robby seemed intent on 
shoving her tongue clear down my throat.
 
What Roberta lacked in experience she more than made up 
for in enthusiasm. Once we had crossed the kissing 
barrier she slowly edged over me until her chest was on 
my chest, her cone shaped amazingly soft breasts 
pressing hotly against me. I'd been lying in the sun, 
but her breasts felt hotter than even that. And she 
rubbed them across my chest, one hand moving across my 
body so she could support herself as she did that. It 
was tender and soft and my cock was suddenly iron hard 
again.
 
I finally moved my hands to her face and used them to 
teach her how to accept those little nipping kisses I 
had learned to love so much. Then I let her press her 
lips back to mine hard and I felt her right leg cross 
over my body. So slowly it seemed to take forever, she 
let herself down to lie on top of me, her pussy pressed 
against my cock, which was now sandwiched between us. 

At first she didn't move her lower body. She just lay 
there, kissing me over and over. But as she tried to 
rub her little titties against me, she inevitably moved 
her pussy on my cock. She pushed up and looked down 
between us. I raised my head to see too, and saw that 
her pussy lips were straddling my cock, which put her 
clit right on my bone. 

She gave a little choking whine and let her body slide 
her pussy along my cock. Her sudden indrawn breath 
electrified me. 

Donna suddenly laid down on the towel beside me. She 
lay on her side, facing us. Robby looked over at her 
and Donna was smiling. 

"I told you it was nice." she said. 

"Shut up." said Robby. 

"You should let him suck your pussy." recommended 
Donna. 

"Shut up." said Robby, letting her clit glide back down 
my cock. 

"And your nipples too." added Donna. "You should let 
him suck them." 

"Donna would you please shut up?" whined Robby. 

Roberta watched as her pussy rubbed along my cock for a 
few seconds more and then she lifted her head, wanting 
another kiss. I felt brave enough... and secure enough 
too, I suppose, to put my hands on her skinny naked 
buns and help her rub my cock. The "Mmmmm" I got pretty 
well told me I was still secure. 

Robby started to breathe harder and move more jerkily 
and she put her mouth an inch from mine. 

"Bobby?" she said, her voice high. "I think I'm going 
to have an orgasm." 

Again, her insistence to use more formal language 
struck me. She seemed at once so proper and yet the 
situation was SO bizarre, based on our previous 
relationship.

"I'm glad Robby." I said back to her. I didn't know 
what else to say to the girl getting herself off on my 
prick. 

Robby stared into my eyes with an intense look that was 
almost scary. Then her eyes closed halfway, like THEY 
wanted to be closed, but SHE wanted them open so she 
could see mine. 

"Ohhhhhhhhh!" she said, her voice low now. "Ohhhhhh 
Bobby!" It was such a sexy sound that I couldn't 
believe it was coming out of Knobby Robby's mouth. 

Watching her have that orgasm was one of the most fun 
and satisfying things that had ever happened to me to 
that point. As I think back on it now it's still one of 
my favorite memories. It was like she was a little girl 
one second and grew up the next second. She took in 
deep lungfuls of air, but it was actually a pretty 
quiet event, all things considered. Maybe she was 
concentrating a hundred percent on what she was 
feeling, I don't know, but she wasn't loud or violent 
like some of the others. 

Finally she stopped moving and leaned down for another 
kiss. It was... hungry. I don't know how else to 
describe it. And, while she was kissing me, her hand 
snaked down between us and fisted my cock. She raised 
her hips up off of me and I felt her move until the tip 
of my cock got hot and felt pressure. I knew it was in 
her pussy mouth, but I didn't think she'd push it in. 

I was wrong. Knobby Robby, my buddy... my pal... my 
suddenly grown up young woman, gave a grunt as, without 
any warning at all, she impaled her skinny body on my 
prick. 

She gave a groan as it slid in her and I was astonished 
at how easily that happened. As small as she was, she 
took my cock like it belonged there. Oh, she was tight. 
No doubt about that. But, maybe because of her 
athleticism, or because she had masturbated for years, 
she swallowed me up with only that groan. Not only 
that, she sat UP when she got it in as far as it would 
go. 

Since my whole cock felt all warm and happy, I knew 
that meant I was all the way in her. 

Donna said, "ROBBY! WHAT ARE YOU..." 

Robby turned her head and said "Donna I TOLD you to 
SHUT UP!" Then, as if we'd been doing this for years, 
she started rising and falling on my bone. 

Gone in a flash was her smooth, almost patient and 
sweet sliding. Her hands came to my chest and she used 
them to lean forward on while her thighs flexed, 
lifting her up. Then she slammed down hard though to 
elicit a grunt from me. She did that again and again 
until she had set up a rhythm that had her falling 
every time the second hand on the watch in my shoe 
ticked to another dot on the dial. Her head hung, like 
she was watching her pussy sliding up and then falling 
heavily down on my cock and I felt the tip of my cock 
push hard into something inside her. 

Thank my lucky starts she only lasted about two minutes 
before she started saying "Fuck" every time she fell 
down, impaling herself again. After her correctness, 
hearing Roberta say that word was like Rod Serling had 
sucked us into the Twilight Zone. She added an "Oh" in 
front of the fuck as she sped up and suddenly she was 
MORE violent than any of the others, pounding me like I 
had pounded Large Marge.

All I could do was hang on for the wildest ride of my 
life as she obviously neared another orgasm. 

Then it was there, and she slammed down and stayed 
down, rotating her pussy, and my cock, in circles as 
she leaned forward. 

Just like that I shot Knobby Robby full of steaming hot 
spunk. She was pressed against me so hard there was no 
way any of that spunk would ever get out of her. I 
thrust my hips up and groaned as my cock rat-a-tat-
tatted her full of my creamy spend. 

Robby leaned down again, like she wanted another kiss. 
Instead she said "I love you Bobby." 

THEN she kissed me. 

"Ohhhh" moaned Donna beside us. I rolled my head over 
and she was masturbating furiously. Claire was right 
behind her, her whole swim suit off now, and her hand 
between her legs as she stood/squatted, the three 
fingers covering her clit and pussy lips moving back 
and forth so fast they were a blur. 

"That was sooooo cool." moaned my sister, who was 
supposed to be grossed out by seeing her brother fuck 
one of her best friends. 

It was obvious to all present that she wasn't grossed 
out at all. 

I turned my face back up to Robby, who was still 
staring at me like she was afraid I was going to melt 
in the hot sun. I thought she was going to kiss me 
again, and again I was wrong. 

"You're the one who did it to Claire... aren't you." 
she whispered. 

I couldn't lie to the woman who'd just given me the 
best fuck of my short life. I blinked twice and nodded 
once. 

"I knew it." said Robby, and kissed me again. My cock 
was still half hard, and she was sitting on it so it 
couldn't go anywhere. She rocked gently, just rubbing 
and kissing until finally she lay down on my chest. 

If she never got off I'd be a happy man. 

She was lying on top of me, relaxed, drooping down all 
over me. She wasn't heavy at all, and her state of 
relaxation was, strangely, one of the most erotic 
things that had ever happened to me up to that point. 
Her face was in my neck and I could feel the heat of 
her breath on my skin. I rolled my head to look at 
Donna, who was staring at us, her mouth open and her 
eyes wild. 

"You guys did it!" she said in a hushed voice. 

Robby didn't respond at all. I smiled and nodded. 
"Yeah." 

Just about then my shrinking cock oozed out of Robby's 
pussy. There was a spreading pool of heat on my groin 
as my semen drained out of her. Robby made an unhappy 
sound. 

She raised her head. "It got all soft." she complained. 

"It does that when it's been very, very happy." I 
complimented her. 

"I want to do that every day." she said, kissing my 
nose. 

"If you do you'll get all knocked up." I said back to 
her. 

"I don't care." said my buddy. 

"Robby," I said. "You can't get knocked up. You're only 
fifteen. That would be a terrible mistake." 

"What if I already am?" she said, with an obvious lack 
of concern. 

"Then you have to marry me and we'll have to drop out 
of school, and I'll have to go to work at some shitty 
place, making a shitty wage, and we'll be poor and 
starve and stuff." I said. I mean it was true, wasn't 
it? Isn't that what happened to kids who 'started a 
family' too soon? 

"You'd marry me if I was pregnant?" There was a 
dampness to Robby's eyes that signaled a heap of 
emotion behind them. 

"I guess I could live that way." I said. I didn't add 
"if I have to." Things were going too nicely to screw 
them up right this instant. "But you wouldn't like it. 
It would be too hard." 

"Yeah" she sighed. "But it's nice to know. I think I've 
been in love with you since third grade." 

Wow! Talk about your bombshells. Little Knobby Robby? 
In love with ME?! For fricking YEARS?! It had to be the 
hormones racing through her bloodstream.
 
"Me too." sighed Donna. Robby and I looked over at her. 
We'd been so immersed in ourselves that we'd sort of 
forgotten she was there. 

"With ME?" I managed to make it into a gasp. It was 
nice to hear, but she was full of hormones too, and 
would eventually need a chance to recant her confession 
of love. Nobody our age really knew anything about 
love. We were like puppies, not yet grown, and stupid 
about the ways of the world. Wasn't that why they 
called it "Puppy Love"? 

Claire was still on her hands and knees behind Donna, 
still looking over Donna at the two of us. We couldn't 
see her pussy, but her breasts hung down beautifully. 

"They've ALL been in love with you since third grade 
you idiot. Why do you think they hung around our house 
so much?" 

"They're the posse." I said dumbly. "They're YOUR 
posse." 

"Yeah, that's how it ended up, but they started hanging 
around because of you. Boys are so stupid." she 
grumped. 

"They can't ALL be in love with me." I said. That was 
true, wasn't it? Wasn't there some kind of girl rule 
that said only one or two girls could be in love with a 
guy at the same time? And then they had to fight about 
it to see who got him. I was sure there was a rule. 

"Why not?" asked Donna. "You don't seriously think we'd 
let you get in our panties if we didn't like you... do 
you?" 

There was that "like" word again. It obviously meant 
something different to a girl than it did to guys. I 
liked all my friends. I'd never consider letting them 
suck my dick, though. I didn't like them THAT much. 
Maybe that was it. For a guy, liking comes in degrees. 
For a girl, "like" meant something serious and there 
were other words for relationships that WEREN'T 
serious." 

I tried a hunch. "What about Joey Trammel?" I asked 
Donna. "I thought you liked him." 

She got a shocked look on her face. "He's OK, I guess, 
but I don't LIKE him!"
 
Yup, there were definite differences in language going 
on here. Who understands the way girls think? 

"Oh" I said, like I understood it. 

Then I had a rush of nervousness. What had I gotten 
myself into here? Did I have five girls all thinking 
that, because I had slid my prick into them... OK, four 
girls then... that they all wanted to marry me? 

"Um..." I ventured. "So... what now?" 

"What do you mean?" asked Donna. 

"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked. It sounded 
like a simple question, but it was actually very 
complicated. 

For Claire it WAS simple. She sat down on the grass and 
pronounced her Sheriff's verdict. "Well, as soon as you 
and Donna do it, those who want to keep doing it can 
keep doing it, and those who don't want to don't have 
to any more." 

That didn't help. "Look," I said. "Don't get me wrong. 
I'm having the time of my life, but I don't want to get 
anybody pregnant, and I don't think anybody's ready to 
talk about getting married." 

"Who said anything about getting married?" asked 
Claire. 

I was astounded. "Robby did!" I said. "Just a minute 
ago. Wasn't that what we were all talking about?" 

"Oh that." said Claire dismissively. "We all have 
dreams, but we're not stupid. Who'd actually want to 
marry a dork like you anyway?" 

"I would." said Robby. She kissed my chin this time. 

Boy, was I confused. 

Claire waved her hand. "I know what you mean Roberta, 
but you don't really mean that." 

Robby sighed. "I know." she said. 

Now I was REALLY confused. 

Donna sat up. Her breasts and stomach were getting a 
little pink in the sun. "I don't know about marriage, 
but I really want to try... it... now." 

Claire got all excited. She knew that Donna and I 
hadn't gone "all the way" yet. She leaned forward. "He 
can get hard again really fast." Then she looked 
shocked.
 
This was a mistake that the other two girls didn't 
miss. 

Donna said "How do you know that?", suspicion heavy in 
her voice. 

Robby pushed herself up with her arms. "I know how she 
knows that. It was Bobby who popped her cherry!" 

Donna didn't get it... yet. "What? No way! How do you 
know that?" 

Robby said "Think about it Donna. How many times have 
we tried to figure out who it could have been and 
couldn't come up with a single name? Where has she gone 
that we didn't either know about, or found out about 
later?" 

I was bracing myself for her to say I had admitted it, 
but, bless her heart, she didn't. Instead she looked at 
me and said "Admit it Bobby, it was you, wasn't it!" It 
wasn't a question. 

I looked at Miss September, and past her to my sister, 
who was decidedly uncomfortable and obviously trying to 
figure out how to get out of this pickle. I didn't say 
anything. 

Donna looked thoughtful. "Marge has always been 
suspicious about that, but she just thought Claire was 
lying about losing her virginity." She looked over at 
Claire. "Claire?" 

Claire looked at the clouds, and then at the creek, and 
then found something very interesting about the grass 
she was sitting on. She was busted. 

Donna got it. "You let your BROTHER pop your cherry?" 
she gasped. 

"It wasn't like that." mumbled Claire finally. 

Donna looked back at me. "You FORCED your sister to 
have sex?!" she accused. 

"NO!" I said. This wasn't turning out well at all. "It 
was more of an accident." 

Robby started rubbing her spermy pussy lips around on 
my groin. She wasn't put off by the incest angle at 
all. That's probably because she thought of herself as 
almost my sister. But it was distracting. 

"How do you "accidentally" have sex with your sister?" 
asked Donna. She was beginning to look mad. 

Claire finally found some of that courage that made her 
the Sheriff in the first place. "Remember when he 
accidentally touched my... pussy? In the car?" she 
asked. 
Donna nodded. 

"Well, I got... excited. And I had to... well... rub 
myself. And it felt good and I loved him too, like you 
guys, and I sort of wanted to rub off again... with 
him." 

Donna's mouth opened and then closed. 

Claire went on. "And so I asked him to masturbate with 
me, and I wanted to feel his hand again, and we kissed 
and he was sort of lying on top of me and .. it just 
happened." 

Donna's mouth was open again. "And you couldn't make 
him stop?" 

Claire got even redder. "I didn't WANT him to stop." 
Her head lifted. "And then, it was so nice I knew you 
guys would love it too, so that's why I told you I had 
lost my cherry... so I could get you guys to find out 
how fun it is." 

Donna said, her voice amazed, "You're one twisted girl, 
Claire." 

"I know." said Claire miserably. 

"And he didn't force you?" asked Donna. 

"No" said Claire. "He even tried to stop, but I 
wouldn't let him." 

"And you only did it that once?" asked Donna. 

Claire looked at the clouds and the creek and the grass 
again. 
"CLAIRE!" gasped Donna. 

"It feels so good." whined Claire. 

"She's right." added Robby, still rubbing herself 
against my soft dick. 

Donna looked back at Robby. "And you don't have any 
problem with all this?" 

Robby smiled. "Nope. I loved it. I want to do it every 
single day." She made it obvious by rubbing herself on 
me with more... vigor. 

"I don't know..." mused Miss September. 

Robby had another round in her magazine. "Tell me you 
never thought about doing anything with Jeff." Jeff was 
Donna's older brother. He was nineteen and in the 
Marines. 

Donna's mouth opened and closed again, and she got a 
very thoughtful look in her eye. she looked back at 
Robby. "Well, maybe I THOUGHT about a few things... 
once in a while... but I didn't DO anything about it." 

"OK then." said Robby. "The only difference is that 
Jeff never happened to touch your pussy and get you all 
excited at a time when you COULD do anything about it." 
Donna blushed. "Well, yeah... but..." 

I finally decided it was time to say something. "Donna, 
you don't have to do anything anyway. If it bothers you 
that's OK. You have a right to be disgusted with me if 
you want to." 

She looked at me. "But I'm NOT disgusted with you. I 
just think it's strange, that's all. And now, after 
seeing you and Robby doing it, I WANT to do it, but you 
won't do it with me." She got all teary eyed "You'll do 
it with your SISTER, but NOT WITH ME!" 

And then she bawled. 

Robby was off me in a flash and she and Claire both 
were hugging Donna. Have you ever seen three naked 
fifteen year old girls hugging each other and crying 
and one of them has your sperm running out of her 
freshly deflowered pussy while another one WANTS to 
have your sperm running out of her freshly deflowered 
pussy? 

OK, probably not, but try to IMAGINE that. 

I got hard again. I didn't WANT to get hard again, but 
I did. I knew this was NOT the right time to get hard 
again... but I did. 

When it quieted down a little Claire looked over at me, 
a frown on her face. "Is THAT why it's been taking so 
long? You won't DO IT with Donna?!" 

Her eyes went to my stiff-again prick and I wanted to 
cover it up. "It's not like that." I said, using her 
own words. "She's too tight. I'll hurt her. I might 
even TEAR her!" I threw that last one in, knowing that 
would shut them up. 

"Of COURSE it will hurt, you Dodo!" barked Claire. "It 
ALWAYS hurts the first time. Why do you think we wanted 
to do it with YOU?!" 

You know how, when you're watching a movie at the 
theater and the film slips on the sprocket and jerks 
around a little before either popping off the gears or 
going back to normal? That's what happened in my mind. 
I mean... they wanted to do it with me the first time 
because it HURT the first time? What the hell did THAT 
mean?
 
"What the hell does THAT mean?" I blurted out. My brain 
was still shimmying around in my skull. 

"It MEANS, you moron, that if it's going to HURT, you 
want to do it with somebody you really LIKE and that 
makes it all WORTH THE PAIN!" Claire ended up 
screaming. 

"Oh." I said. That wasn't something guys thought about 
all that much I guess. 

Now you'd have thought that the mood would have been 
all ruined, and that all three of them would be mad at 
me and disgusted and get dressed and walk off. But 
these were TEENAGED girls, you see, so logic doesn't 
enter into it. 

Claire stood up, naked. And angry. And really beautiful 
too. 

"NOW, YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND POP DONNA'S CHERRY 
THIS INSTANT!" she screamed at me. She actually stomped 
one naked foot. It made her breasts jiggle nicely. 

Then my brain rattled again as Robby KISSED Donna on 
the LIPS and said "It's going to be OK Donna. You're 
going to love this." And she lay Donna down on her 
towel and got her all arranged, like a sacrifice on a 
Mayan altar and stood up, my sperm running down the 
inside of her thigh and stood beside Claire. 

Rod Serling and his Outer Limits was back. This just 
couldn't be real. 

Donna, dear sweet Donna, turned her head and looked at 
me with tears in her eyes and said "Please Bobby?" 

Now maybe this sounds all exciting to you, but guys, 
let me tell you, this is no situation to find yourself 
in. Talk about your conflicting emotions. Here was a 
girl I'd wanted to fuck for a long time, asking me to 
do it. 

But I KNEW it would hurt her and hurt her a lot. She 
was just too tight. I looked down at my prick, hoping 
it was soft as butter on a July day, but Mr. Happy had 
a mind of his own and it sure wasn't in tune with my 
own mind. He was standing out proud and strong, despite 
having squirted only ten minutes earlier. I could hear 
him in my mind: "Heh, heh, I'm ready brother, where is 
she? Let me at her! I wanna PLAY!" 

So, I crawled over to Donna and she smiled as she saw 
me coming and held out her arms to me and everything. I 
kissed her first, and told her we needed to make out a 
little first. She nodded and her kisses were... 
intense. Always before kissing had just been fun, but 
now they were a prelude to something new and different 
and scary for both of us. I went down to her inverted 
nipples and sucked them out as she wiggled under me. 
Then I started kissing my way down to her pussy. I knew 
it needed to be nice and slippery if I wasn't going to 
just kill the poor girl. 

"Get on with it!" growled Claire. 

I lifted my head. "You just shut your mouth Claire." I 
said. I used my big brother voice on her. This was all 
HER fault and I was going to have to live with the 
consequences of it. 

I licked and sucked and prodded Miss September with two 
fingers until she was nice and slippery and then 
crawled back up to her face. 

"You're sure about this?" I whispered. 

She nodded again and reached down between us. She had 
rubbed herself with my cock head before, so she knew 
where to put it and this time, when it dipped in 
between hot pussy lips I pushed enough to lodge it 
tight. 

Donna winced. I wasn't even past her hymen and she 
winced. She must have seen the look in my eyes. 

"It doesn't really hurt" she said. "I'm just nervous." 

So I pushed. 

Nothing happened. I felt Mr. Happy bend slightly. Donna 
winced again and spread her legs farther apart. 

"Do it Bobby." she urged me. 

So I pushed... harder. And suddenly I was partway 
inside her. It was like somebody took a pair of water 
pump pliers and clamped them on my cock. Only they were 
made of something hot and spongy, and not metal. 

This tortured sound came out of Donna's throat and I 
stopped. Her eyes were tightly closed, but when I 
didn't do anything else she opened them. Tears 
threatened to overflow any minute and then did as she 
raised her head to look down at the place that hurt so 
much. Her hands came up to my waist and her nails dug 
into my skin. 

"DO IT!" she screamed, and pulled. About the same time 
Claire slapped my ass with the flat of her hand just as 
hard as she could. 

Mr. Happy gave a strangled, choked off gurgle as he was 
forced deep inside Miss September and his little head 
kissed Donna's cervical mouth. 

My ear was deafened by Donna's agonized scream as her 
tissues were cruelly spread apart. She later told me 
that almost all the pain was right at her opening, 
where her pussy lips were so tightly stretched, and 
that the only reason she didn't try to push me off of 
her was the... other feeling... deeper inside of her... 
where Mr. Happy was gasping for breath and turning 
blue. She said she was able to concentrate on that 
feeling and push aside the pain of her bleeding hymen 
and stretched pussy lips. Women are amazing creatures, 
I'll tell you that. 

Anyway, once I was in her she was perfectly happy to 
have me stay stock still while her abused pussy 
realized that the invader wasn't going away real soon, 
and that it needed to stretch and accommodate that 
bastard prick. 

I was holding myself up with stiff arms. I adjusted 
them and Donna yelled "DON'T MOVE!" So I lay there, 
skewering the poor girl and... didn't move. 

At some point her hands loosed their grip on my sides. 
I expected blood to dribble down my sides, but I didn't 
feel anything. My ass cheek hurt like fire. Mr. Happy 
wasn't talking any more and I couldn't even tell if he 
was still actually stiff or not. I could feel pain 
where my foreskin had been stretched beyond normal as 
my cock penetrated her. 

All in all, it hurt us both, and I didn't think either 
one of us was going to have a good memory of this. 

I pulled out a little, just to ease the fire in my 
foreskin, expecting Donna to scream "DON'T MOVE" again. 

But instead she lifted her head again to look at where 
we were joined. 

"It's in me." she whined. 

What could I say. 

"Oh Bobby, it's really IN me!" Her voice was stronger. 

Pulling back had made the pain where the shaft started 
go away, and Mr. Happy had apparently been able to drag 
in a breath or something, because he suddenly sent a 
signal to my brain that there was something deeper 
inside Donna that he kind of wanted to go see. 

I pushed before I could stop myself, and the tip of my 
cock dug into what I know now was the mouth of her 
womb. 

"Oooooo!" she whined. 

"Sorry" I choked out. "I couldn't help it." 

"It's not so bad now" she said, sounding amazed. "Do 
that again." 

I couldn't push any harder. I was all the way in her. 
So I pulled back maybe an inch or so and then pushed 
again.' 

"AHHHHHHHH!" came a sound from Miss September's voice. 

"Go easy there." warned Claire from right beside us. 

"Shut up Claire." said Donna. I think she learned that 
from Robby.

At Donna's urging I began to move a little more each 
time until I was dragging my prick almost all the way 
out of her and then sliding it back into a furnace of 
wet pussy. 

I learned later in life that some women have orgasms 
that are due primarily to vaginal friction, meaning the 
feel of a penis sliding along her vaginal walls. Other 
women have clitoral orgasms, and if their clit isn't 
stimulated they can't cum. They still like the feeling, 
but just can't cum. If you know a woman who likes it 
doggy style, but can't cum that way, she's probably a 
clitty woman and not whatever you call the other kind. 

Donna had had lots and lots of orgasm while I licked, 
sucked or rubbed her clit. But it turned out that what 
she REALLY liked was a nice stiff penis sliding in and 
out of her pussy. 

OK, one more thing before we get back to the good 
stuff. Have any of you seen that movie called 
"Porky's", where the female gym teacher has the 
nickname "Lassie"? 

Well, it hadn't been made yet, but I bet the author, or 
producer or whoever was responsible for that movie was 
hiding in the bushes when Donna got her cherry popped 
and got her first hard prick inside her. 

Donna started pulling at the towel, and then tearing up 
handfuls of grass and her air raid siren got good and 
warmed up as her hips started thrusting up off the 
ground and she SCREAMED like she was being just KILLED 
as she had an orgasm. Her head was flailing back and 
forth and I expected to feel Robby's hands beating on 
me again, trying to get me off. 

But it was pretty obvious that Donna was working up to 
it. Also, Robby had felt what was happening to Donna, 
and I think they could hear the joy in Donna's voice 
that sounded like screams of torture to me, because all 
Robby and Claire did was masturbate like CRAZY while 
Donna came all over my cock. 

Donna shouted my name and called for her mamma, and 
said some very bad words and bucked like a bronco at a 
rodeo while I used all my weight to stay on... and in 
her.

She was gasping for air and that was noisy too, and I 
stopped to give her a chance to breathe and because 
what she'd just done made me feel so manly I was about 
to spurt.

"Don't <gasp> stop <gasp>" she... gasped.

"If I don't stop I'll cum." I gasped back. When had I 
lost my breath like that?

"YES!" she shrieked. "DO THAT!"

Well, as they say, the customer is always right. So I 
started in again and it felt so good that about half a 
minute later I groaned and said "Here it comes Donna!" 

Which was about then Claire shouted at us.

"WAIT... DONNA... WHEN WAS YOUR LAST VISIT?"

And Miss September, whose pussy had at last become 
accustomed to my prick enough to be able to flutter all 
around it yelled "SHUT THE FUCK UP CLAIRE!"

I groaned and felt soothing semen rush through my 
prick. Donna's eyes got wide and she said "I FEEL it!"

It felt so good I got weak and sort of collapsed on top 
of Donna. And it did something to her too because I 
felt fire in my shoulder as she BIT me! She said she 
was sorry later, that she didn't even know why she did 
that. I had a perfect impression of her front teeth on 
the front of my shoulder for two weeks and had to be 
really careful when I took showers so that my folks 
didn't see it.

Anyway, Robby wanted to go again, but I was so 
exhausted that I just rolled off of Donna and then 
rolled onto my front so nobody could get to my poor 
penis. Robby sat on my butt and taunted me, saying I 
was a wimp, and maybe even queer or something, but it 
didn't work. I wanted to go to sleep but damned if all 
three of the girls weren't all perky and excited. They 
were chattering like they had each eaten a pound of 
sugar or something.

When they found out I really wasn't going to do 
anything else they insisted it was time to go anyway. 
We had a minor panic attack when Donna said she was too 
sore to walk. She was hobbling around bow legged and it 
would have been funny except that there HAD been blood 
when I finally got off of her. She didn't keep 
bleeding, but there was no way she was going to be able 
to walk into her house like that and not be asked all 
kinds of very dangerous questions.

Nobody knew what to do. How did you do first aid for a 
sore pussy? I joked about being willing to give her 
"mouth to mouth" and Robby started rolling up her towel 
to snap me with it. Donna kept tiptoeing along, going 
"OW" and "SHIT" and other sounds that made it clear she 
was in some real pain.

We were half way home and it hadn't gotten any better 
and we were getting worried. How the heck were we going 
to be able to explain this? Then Robby started 
squealing and said "I have an idea. Claire! Come with 
me."

Robby took off running, turning around to make sure 
Claire was following her. Claire wasn't, because Claire 
didn't like to run, but Robby got her going and they 
disappeared from view.

"I'm really sorry Donna" I said when we were alone. "I 
knew I shouldn't do it."

Miss September stopped and looked at me. "I wouldn't 
change things for anything." she said. 

"Really?" I was pretty amazed.

"Really!" she said firmly. "I may never let you touch 
me again, but I wouldn't change things for anything."

I must have looked pretty depressed, because she 
laughed and said she was just kidding. Then she winced 
as she took a step.

We took it slow and about fifteen minutes later saw 
movement in the woods. It was Claire and Robby coming 
back. I grinned when I saw they were bringing two bikes 
apiece. Claire had gone and gotten hers and mine, while 
Robby got her own and one from somewhere else. Only one 
of them was a true "girls" bike, with no ball buster 
bar from the seat to the handlebars.

When we got to Donna's house Claire was riding the 
girls bike and Donna was pushing mine. It had the best 
bar for the story we were going to tell. Robby, seeing 
Donna limping along, thought about the last time she 
had felt like that, which was when her feet slid off 
her pedals during an encounter with a pot hole and she 
had slammed down on the ball buster bar. Of course, she 
didn't have any balls to bust, but ask any girl what 
it's like and they'll tell you stories to make your 
blood curdle.

Claire threw her bike on the ground and ran up on the 
porch and into the house. She came back out with 
Donna's mom, who had a look of real concern on her 
face. Claire had told her "what happened" while we were 
riding bikes. Donna insisted she was OK, and didn't 
need to go to the hospital or anything, and that she 
just needed to sit down somewhere for a while. Mrs. 
Miles thanked us for helping Donna get home and took 
her daughter into the house.

The rest of us looked at each other and breathed a sigh 
of relief. Robby took off toward her house and Claire 
and I headed home. It was almost supper time.

The phone rang about seven that night and my mom 
answered it.

"Bobby?" I heard her say. She yelled for me and said 
the phone was for me.

It was Mrs. Miles. "Bobby? Could you come over here? I 
need to talk to you about something." she said. 

This just couldn't be a good thing. "Sure" I said 
brightly. I told my parents where I was going and 
walked over to their house. On the way I tried to think 
of all the little chores I'd done for Mrs. Miles over 
the years. She was the only divorced woman I knew, and, 
not having a man around the house, she sometimes needed 
a little help with a few things. She was pretty 
independent, though, and I couldn't think of anything 
she'd need me for this late in the evening. 

When I got there and knocked, Mrs. Miles came to the 
door. She smiled, which made me feel better, and led me 
into the living room where Donna was sitting on the 
couch. She looked as unhappy as I've ever seen a girl 
look. That made me a little unhappy too. 

I had a bad feeling about this.


CHAPTER NINE 
------------

"Sit down, Bobby." Said Mrs. Miles. "You can sit by 
Donna if you like... since you two are such good... 
friends." 

Oh shit. 

It turned out that our carefully planned grand 
scheme... or should I say Robby's wild and unplanned 
grand scheme... had a couple of flaws in it. 

First off it never occurred to us that Donna's mother 
would want to... inspect... her daughter's bike riding 
injury. 

Secondly, we hadn't gone back in the water after our 
afternoon activities. 

A third problem couldn't really be called our fault, 
since we didn't really have any reason to even think 
about the fact that Mrs. Miles was completely cognizant 
of what sperm looked... and smelled... and yes... 
tasted like, to say nothing of her ability to look at a 
recently fucked pussy and recognize the kind of trauma 
recently fucking DOES to a pussy. 

We could have blamed it all on Donna. Getting caught, I 
mean. We could have said that, when her mother told her 
to take off her swim suit so she could see the damage, 
Donna should have begged to take a shower first or 
something like that. But Donna wasn't thinking any 
clearer than any of the rest of us, so that wouldn't 
have been fair. 

And, of course, Mrs. Miles knew all about Donna's 
nickname... and who had given it to her... and the fact 
that the same boy had been out with her daughter that 
afternoon. 

It also turned out that Donna wasn't very resistant to 
interrogation. She and her mother really DID share just 
about everything. About the only saving grace was that 
Donna had made it quite clear to her mother that it had 
taken her literally months to GET me to pop her cherry, 
and that I had done so only when begged. 

Of course, when Mrs. Miles sat in a chair across from 
us and just looked at the two of us, frowning 
slightly... I did not know all of this extremely 
crucial information. 

"Bobby?" she said. "I want to ask you some questions. I 
want you to tell me the truth." 

She waited for me to respond to her statement. 

I swallowed. I wanted to look at Donna, but I knew that 
was a bad idea. "Yes ma'am." I said. 

Mrs. Miles asked "How did Donna get her... injury this 
afternoon?" 

"Mom, I told you..." came a pleading voice from beside 
me. 

"Be quiet Donna." said her mother. 

My first instinct was to stick to the plan. But the 
look on Donna's face when I got there suggested the 
plan was in sad shape. Then I felt the urge to just say 
that I wasn't looking when it happened, and didn't know 
exactly how "it" had happened. I mean that was true, 
wasn't it? I wasn't actually looking at my prick when 
Claire slapped my ass and I slayed Donna's hymen. 

But my father had always taught me that the measure of 
a man is what he says, when what he says, could be 
hurtful to him. What me meant by that was that 
sometimes, telling the truth can get you in trouble, 
and that a real man disregards that little problem. My 
dad was big on truthfulness. 

Then again, I couldn't just say "Well, Mrs. Miles, I 
climbed up on top of your sweet little daughter here 
and just fucked her bowlegged, that's what happened." 

I took a breath .. and the middle road. "Um... I might 
have had something to do with that." I said. 

That was fairly noncommittal. It was obvious she was 
suspicious, but how much did she actually know? 

"You... might have?" asked Mrs. Miles. "Tell me Bobby, 
how many other boys were there when this happened?" 

Oh boy. "None, ma'am." I answered truthfully. 

"So it was just you and the girls?" 

"Yes ma'am." 

"And you were out riding bikes?" she asked. 

Well, we rode them at the end, right? OK, except for 
Donna, and anybody would understand why she didn't want 
to actually sit on a bike seat just then. But Mrs. 
Miles did say "You", which could be construed to mean 
just "me" and even three out of four was a clear 
majority of people who rode bikes. That wasn't too far 
from the truth... technically. 

"Yes ma'am." I said, technically truthfully. 

"Aren't Donna and Roberta a little young for you?" she 
asked. 

I sort of missed how she slipped Roberta's name in 
there. All I heard was the young part. I was thinking a 
mile a minute, trying to come up with something to say. 

"I guess so" I said first. "Except that I like being 
around them." 

"I just bet you do." said Mrs. Miles. "Couldn't you 
have at least used a rubber?" 

"I didn't have one, ma'am." I said on impulse. Donna 
elbowed me hard. My heart sank. 

I hate it when parents do that kind of thing to you. 
They get you talking and answering questions and then 
they slip that one question in that tars and feathers 
you because you answer it automatically, because you're 
used to answering questions. 

Mrs. Miles stood up. "Donna, you sit right there. Bobby 
and I are going to have a little private discussion. 
Don't you move an inch until we get back. Is that 
clear?" 

She didn't wait for an answer because she knew her 
daughter well enough to know no answer was needed. 
Instead she crooked her finger at me. It would have 
looked sexy, except that I figured she knew where that 
filleting knife was too, and that I was about to find 
out what it felt like to have my balls cut off... 
privately. 

She led me to her own bedroom. That didn't seem odd to 
me. I mean what more private place in a house is there 
than the parent's bedroom? Then she closed the door. 
That didn't seem odd to me either. She wanted privacy, 
right? I mean who wants witnesses when you're going to 
cut somebody’s balls off?

She walked to the middle of the room and paced around a 
little before turning and facing me. I have to say here 
that Mrs. Miles was a nice looking woman. She was 
probably in her mid thirties or so and had her hair 
styled like Farrah Fawcett. Donna's comment that her 
mother looked more like Miss September than Donna did 
flitted through my mind, but I clamped down on that. 
This was the wrong time to be thinking things like 
that. 

"You were very stupid today." she said, folding her 
arms under her breasts. That just put those breasts on 
display, sitting there on her arms. They deserved to be 
on display. They looked pretty spectacular to me. I 
shook my head. I was having a hard time concentrating. 

"Yes ma'am," I said. 

"Would you PLEASE stop calling me MA'AM?" she said 
darkly. "You're making me feel like I'm an old woman. 
My name is Shirley. And since you're man enough to have 
sex with my daughter, I suppose you're man enough to 
call me Shirley." 

"Yes ma'am... I mean... Shirley." I was NOT going to be 
able to call this woman by her first name. It just blew 
my mind to even think about doing that. Then the 
enormity of what was going on hit me and I realized 
that all men called their Mother-in-law by her first 
name. Was that what this "private chat" was all about? 
I had fucked her daughter and now she was going to 
demand that I make an honest woman out of her?" 

"You could easily have gotten her pregnant, Bobby." 
said Shirley. 

"I know," I said miserably. "I didn't mean to do it 
actually." 

"Yes" said Shirley. "Donna told me that. She said she 
had to beg you. Is that really true?"
 
"I didn't want to hurt her." I said, by way of a very 
weak explanation. "I knew it would hurt her." 

"And how would you have known that... Bobby?" asked a 
very shrewd Mrs. Miles. 

"Well... I kind of learned that because of... um... 
some other times?" I finished it as a question. 

"What others, Bobby?" came the inevitable question. 

"I can't really say Ma'... um Shirley. I mean it 
wouldn't be right to say their names." 

"Well, at least he has SOME discretion." said Shirley 
to her imaginary friend. All women have one of those. 
They talk to them pretty regular too. 

She looked me dead in the eye. "Do you love Donna 
Bobby?" 

"Um... that's not an easy question to answer." I said. 
She hadn't brought out that filleting knife and I was 
beginning to get interested in the fact that this was a 
conversation, and not a screaming match. "I mean I'd 
never hurt her on purpose, nor would I allow any harm 
to come to her. I like her for sure. She's bright and 
friendly and smart and I like being around her." I 
looked back at Shirley. "I guess I'd have to say I'm 
not to sure what love feels like." 

Shirley was looking at me with her head cocked to one 
side a little. It made me want to cock my head too, so 
her eyes would look right. I didn't though. 

"Do you have a rubber with you right now?" asked this 
strange woman. 

"No ma'am." I grimaced as she frowned. "No." 

"I thought all boys carried rubbers with them these 
days." she said. 

"I guess some might." I admitted. Then I told her what 
I thought about getting rubbers out of machines that 
sold "instant pussy". She actually laughed. 

"How many of the other girls have you... um... done the 
same thing with that you did with Donna?" she asked. "I 
mean Claire's friends." she added. 

This was getting dangerous again. "Look, Shirley, I 
don't really want to talk about that. I know what I did 
with Donna was wrong, and I'm sorry about that. If you 
want me to marry her then I will. I don't know how 
we'll get along, but I'll do the right thing." 

Saying that made me so weak in the knees that I had to 
lean against the wall. 

She got a look on her face that was clearly startled. 
Then she put her hand over her mouth, but not before I 
saw a smile there. She turned around, facing away from 
me and stayed that way for a few seconds. When she 
turned back around the frown was on her face again. 

"You're very lucky that Donna's last period was only a 
few days ago. She's not pregnant, Bobby. And she 
doesn't want to marry you. I don't want her to marry 
you either, for that matter. That would be a disaster 
of the first magnitude. At least right now." 

Talk about hitting a guy when he's down. I was... 
unacceptable... as a potential mate for Miss September! 

But I wasn't stupid. 

"Thank you," I said. 

"However..." said Shirley, "there are going to have to 
be some changes. I will NOT have you impregnate my 
daughter in the future, either accidentally OR on 
purpose. Is that clear?" 

"Yes ma'am" I held up my hands as her frown deepened. 
"I'm sorry. I was taught to say that. I'll try harder. 
And you're no old lady by any stretch of the 
imagination, so don't think that's what I think." 

Shirley toyed with the top button on her blouse. "Donna 
told me what you did for her," she said. 

"What was that?" I asked. 

"About her nipples," said Donna's mother with a 
straight face. 

"Oh" I blushed. 

"That was a very nice thing to do for a girl like her 
Bobby." 

"Well, it bothered her a lot and she thought she was 
ugly and all that, but she wasn't, so I just tried to 
help her understand that she was really beautiful." I 
was talking too much, but I couldn't help it. The 
relief of knowing I got to keep my balls made me giddy. 
That and knowing that I didn't have to go home and tell 
my parents I was engaged.

"And you got to do some fun things at the same time." 
said Shirley. 

I blushed more. "Well... yes." 

She laughed again. "I thought so. Well, at least you're 
honest. Tell me this. What was all that stuff about 
telling Donna she looked like that woman in Playboy? 
Were you just trying to get in her pants?"
 
"Oh HELL no!" I gasped. "She was only what? Twelve? 
Thirteen maybe? I just thought she was cute and then I 
saw that picture and I could see the resemblance. I 
thought about it at night when I..." My mouth snapped 
shut as I realized what I had been about to say. And 
when I tried it on her she got so upset I just knew it 
was a winner of a nickname. I guess I was kind of mean 
to them back then."


Shirley Miles had a knowing look on her face. "Well, 
all in all you have done some very nice things for my 
daughter. You did some dangerous and stupid things too, 
but I don't think you were being selfish about it." 
There was a slight pause. "And all kids get curious, 
now don't they?" 

I didn't answer. She stepped toward me. 

"Still," she said. "I'm going to have to do something 
to ensure you do not do something stupid with my 
daughter again." 

The obvious fix zapped straight into my mind. All she 
had to do was call the cops and tell them what I'd 
done. I couldn't very well do anything stupid with her 
daughter if I was locked up in reform school somewhere, 
now could I? 

"Take off your pants Bobby." said Shirley calmly. 

"Beg your pardon?" I asked. 

That film sprocket was acting up again. 

"I want to see what all the fuss is about." she said. 
"You showed it to my daughter... and probably some of 
her friends, from the way you're acting. I think I have 
a right to see what caused my baby to bleed. Just call 
me... curious... if it makes you feel better." 

When I didn't do anything her hands reached out and 
unbuckled my belt. 

"Come on Bobby, I won't hurt you." said Shirley Miles 
in a soft, convincing voice. 

Where had I heard that line before? 

Mrs. Miles - I just had a hard time thinking of her as 
Shirley, you know? - got the belt undone without 
looking at it. She looked right into my eyes the whole 
time. And somehow she got the button on my shorts 
undone, and then her hand brushed against Mr. Happy as 
my zipper came down. 

Mr. Happy, perhaps able somehow to feel the genetic 
similarities between Miss September's hand and her 
mother's, lifted his cute little head and said "Again? 
So soon? Oh GOODY!" Even If I knew who was pulling that 
zipper down, he didn't. 

Or maybe he just didn't care. 

So, when Mrs. Miles' eyes finally unlocked from mine 
and slid down my chest as she knelt in front of me, and 
my shorts dropped to the floor like they had lead 
weights in them, Mr. Happy was wrestling with my 
underwear like a man on Safari, trying to push tall 
grass aside so he could see his prey. 

Except the "prey" found him first. 

I was staring at a mirror that was attached to a long 
dresser kind of thing against the wall, and what I saw 
was a seventeen year old boy, not too bad looking, 
sunburned around the face, wearing a shirt and, where 
his dick should have been, was this big fluffy blond 
Farrah Fawcett hairdo that made it look like the boy 
had pubic hair you'd expect to see on Big Foot. I had 
to grin.

What Shirley Miles saw as she 'parted the grass' by 
pulling my underwear down to my knees, was the bobbing 
tool that had, indeed, made her daughter bleed. And, it 
was in the same condition it had been in when said 
bleeding took place. 

Mr. Happy, possibly blinking in the sudden light, moved 
his head around here and there, going "OK, where is 
she? I'm ready! I won't fail you Bobby. Just bring her 
on." 

"My, my, my." said Mrs. Miles. 

Mr. Happy gave a little "eeep" as the light was 
suddenly cut off again and it got very... very dark. 
That was because Shirley Miles had his head lodged 
firmly in her mouth. 

I believe I said something very close to "Eeep" as 
well.

It's a good thing I was leaning against that wall, 
because otherwise my dick might have gotten all scraped 
up against her teeth as it was jerked between them 
while I fell in a heap. But I managed to just sag a 
little, and she was able to compensate for that. 

I found out in short order that Donna wasn't 
necessarily a quick learner. I think there was a 
genetic component in her ability to learn how to suck 
me like a pro. Shirley Miles had a very talented mouth.

What's that you ask?

What was I thinking about while all this was going on? 

Well, a few years back there had been this movie that 
caused a sensation. It was called "The Graduate" and, 
though kids our age weren't allowed in the theater to 
see it, rumor about that movie got thoroughly 
distributed around the teen set. For most of us boys my 
age, that whole get seduced by an older woman thing was 
just a far out fantasy. I mean Dustin Hoffman was a 
college student, right? So while it might happen to 
college students, there was no way it was going to 
happen to somebody not even out of High School. Anybody 
knew that. 

That's what I was thinking. I was thinking that this 
couldn't possibly be happening to me.
 
Mr. Happy gave another strangled little "eeep" as it 
got all bright again when Mrs. Miles pulled her sucking 
lips off of him. He just stuttered inanely this time, 
but I knew what he meant. He meant to say "It's too 
bright! Get that mouth back over my head! Please?" 

Those eyes rose to pin me even harder to the wall 
again. I realized that Mrs. Miles looked awfully good 
for an older woman. I mean she HAD to be at least 
thirty-five. But she licked her lips like she was only 
twenty. 

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had a man 
Bobby?" she asked me, her lips only an inch from mine. 

"No ma'am," I said. 

"Women like me can get an awful reputation if they... 
fraternize... with men." she said. Her lips pursed and 
she gave me two little soft lipped kisses, just like 
those nipping kisses I loved to give the girls. 

"Ummmm," I answered. Even I had no idea what I meant. 

"So I haven't had a man for a very long time Bobby. And 
I've needed a man for a long time too," she said in a 
slightly whiney voice that made my dick leak. "But you 
wouldn't tell anybody if I... fraternized... with 
you... would you Bobby?" 

"No ma'am," I said firmly. 

"And then I could put Donna on the pill, and there 
wouldn't be any more of those dangerous little swimming 
sessions for me to worry about... would there Bobby?" 

I wasn't stupid. This was the chance of a lifetime. "NO 
MA'AM!" I barked. Any Drill Sergeant would have beamed 
at my response. 

She kissed me one more fluttery kiss and said, "Good." 

Then she stood back and unveiled... Miss Playboy Of The 
Year. 

Shirley Miles was in GOOD shape. She had heavy, but 
firm breasts that had suckled only one baby, and she 
was either vain enough, or just had a healthy enough 
lifestyle to have kept her waist narrow and her thighs 
free of that layer of fat that most women have and all 
women just hate. Her nipples were a coral color I had 
never seen before, and they were, by no means, 
inverted. If anything you could have put a light shirt 
on a hanger and hung it from those jutting delicious 
nubs. Her pubic hair matched exactly the color of 
Farrah Fawcett's hair on her head. 

Donna was actually right. She DID look more like Miss 
September than Donna did. 
True, she had a little extra flesh on her stomach that 
made it slightly rounded, rather than flat as a board, 
like Donna's and Robby's, and there was also enough 
flesh on her hips that I couldn't see any bony 
protrusions, like on some of the girls. 

But that just made it better. 

She was a real woman, in every sense. My prick leaked a 
string of pre-cum that hung down and swung around as 
Mr. Happy danced in time with my heartbeat. 

"My, my," she said in that mellow voice of hers as her 
eyes followed the jerking pattern that drip of pre-cum 
made in the air. "We're a little eager, now aren't we?" 

"Ummmmm," was all I could produce. I suddenly realized 
that the only person in the room who was wearing 
anything at all was me, and that it shouldn't be that 
way. I tore my T shirt off, over my head. 

"Steady, tiger," she purred. "We only have time to do 
this once... right now anyway. Let's just try to pace 
ourselves a little, OK?" 

She held out her hand to me and I saw mine lift. I saw 
her pull my hand to the bed, where she sat, swiveled 
and lay back, wide open. I saw my hand go down beside 
her on the bed and suddenly she was under me. My view 
went to her eyes and stayed there as I felt her hand 
grip my manhood and pull. 

Then there was just sweet bliss as Mr. Happy drowned in 
soft, warm pussy. 

I think two things saved me from being a typical 
teenage boy in that situation. First, it was so unreal 
that my mind just couldn't really believe that my prick 
was buried in a real woman, especially since it was 
Donna's mother. 

And, I had been called on to go... and go... and go, so 
to speak, on more than one occasion... and had learned, 
somewhere along the way, to do so. 

Mrs. Miles made completely different sounds than any of 
the girls. Her sounds were a mixture of moans and 
"Mmmmm's and soft "Awwww's that almost sounded like 
words in a foreign language or something. They were 
patently appreciative sounds. At some point I 
remembered that I was part of what was going on and 
used a couple of the moves I had learned with the 
girls. I also managed to get my lips around those hot 
pink nipples. They went much farther into my mouth than 
any of the girls' nipples had, and were a delight to 
suckle. 

"I see why Donna let you do this to her." moaned 
Donna's mother. "You're GOOD at this."

Donna's mother also had a way of writhing under me, an 
undulating kind of wave-like motion that aided me in 
digging deep into her. Five minutes later Mrs. Miles 
tensed up. 

I had a sudden horrid thought that the lonely wolf 
reaction to an orgasm in a Miles woman might also be 
hereditary. If that was true, Donna would be charging 
through that door in about ten seconds, and she'd have 
that filleting knife in her hand. 

I kissed Mrs. Miles on the lips as I dug my cock deep 
into her and then said "Please don't scream." as 
urgently as I could. 

Her eyes, which had been closed, popped open and her 
mouth made an "O" shape that looked like it was perfect 
to reproduce the sounds of an air raid siren. 

But she didn't. Instead she moaned "She's a screamer, 
is she?" 

And then her pussy went just wild. It rippled and 
clamped down and did all kinds of amazing things that 
felt like a Swedish massage to Mr. Happy and she gave a 
long, slow groan that was just delightful to my ears. 

She shook like a dog and her hips thrust up hard. Her 
mouth, in a wide grimace gasped out "Maybe I should get 
on the pill too." 

Ohhh boy. Talk about fireworks in the sky and stars 
shooting every which way and all the blood in your body 
rushing in a second and a half to your balls so they 
have enough oxygen to empty themselves in one massive 
clenching rush. It felt like one of my legs had sucked 
up inside me and was trying to get out of my body 
through my prick and into her pussy. 

It was my turn to groan, except that I don't think I 
had enough control over my vocal chords to actually 
make the sound. I got light headed and fell on top of 
Shirley Miles' soft, supporting body as my cock spat 
its load deep into her welcoming pussy. 

I came back to reality feeling her hands stroking my 
back in big circles. Her pussy was still doing that 
massage, even though I was beyond hope of anything that 
involved energy. If there was a sperm cell left in me, 
it had been abandoned by the muscles that would propel 
it into her sucking slit.

She didn't have to worry about her daughter... or 
anybody else. I felt like I'd never be able to get it 
up again. 

I felt my body rocking on hers and realized it was my 
lungs, trying to drag in enough air to keep me alive. I 
was surprised they still worked. 

"Thank you Bobby." she said into my ear. "I really 
needed that."

"You're more than welcome, Shirley" I was able to say. 
After THAT I could call her Shirley.

We lay there for another five or so minutes and then 
she pushed me off. 

"Donna will be wondering what happened to us." she 
said, lying there, not attempting to move. "Be a good 
boy and get dressed and go tell her we're done. Tell 
her I was tired and went to bed, OK?"
 
"Sure." I said, dragging myself to an upright position. 
She looked beautiful splayed out on the bed. "And thank 
YOU." I added. 

Her head rolled so she could look at me. "Not a word 
Bobby." she said unnecessarily. 

"Don't worry." I said. 

"We won't be able to do this very often." she said 
softly. 

"That's OK" I said. "I'm glad you had a good time." 

Yeah, I know, it was stupid. But I was only seventeen. 
She just smiled. And then she said something I thought 
was a really high compliment. 

"I DID have a good time Bobby. The best time I've had 
in a lot of years."

When I got out to the living room Donna was fidgeting 
on the couch, right where we'd left her. I must have 
looked as worn out as I felt. She jumped to her feet. 
She winced as she did it. 

"WHAT HAPPENED?" asked Donna in an anxious loud 
whisper. "You were gone so LONG!" 

"We had a serious talk." I said. 

How do you tell a girl who just gave you her virginity 
a few hours ago that you just fucked her mother? 

You don't. That's how. 

"What's she going to do?" asked Donna. 

"I think she has decided that we were just satisfying 
our curiosity." I said. "I think she's going to put you 
on the pill. 

Donna's eyes widened so much I thought her eyeballs 
might actually pop out of her head. 

I delivered the rest of the message I was charged with. 
"She said she was tired, and was going to bed. She'll 
talk to you tomorrow." 

Donna's mouth opened and closed several times. "That's 
IT?!" she gasped. 

My knees were still a little wobbly. I sat down. "I 
think so." I said. 

"She's not going to tell all the other parents?" asked 
Donna. 

"I don't know. She didn't say anything about that." I 
answered truthfully. I couldn't think of any way she 
could do that without opening a HUGE can of worms that 
the whole town would know about in hours, but... who 
knew what adults would do at any given minute? 

It was then that Donna described how, when her mother 
wanted to see her injury, to determine whether or not a 
visit to the doctor was needed, that the evidence of 
our activities had been displayed. Donna said as soon 
as she spread her legs and saw the spermy mess in her 
pubic hair she knew the jig was up. She said she 
couldn’t believe it when her mother wiped one finger 
through that mess and tasted it. Shirley knew it had to 
be mine from the beginning. There was just too much 
history. She interrogated her daughter while Donna 
soaked in the tub and Donna spilled just about every 
bean she could find. Except she didn't admit that I'd 
done all the other girls too. 

"What do we do now?" asked Donna, looking lost. 

"I don't actually know, Donna." I said again, 
truthfully. 

Donna moved and winced again. 

"How are you doing?" I asked. 

She turned to look at me with a question in her eyes. 

"I mean about... your... um accident?" It was stupid 
not to be able to just talk to her, but for some reason 
I couldn't. 

"Oh... that." she said dismissively. "It's not so bad. 
I'm just sore, that's all." Then she looked at me. "I'm 
not sorry we did it Bobby." 

"Thanks." I said. I really did feel better. 

"I just wish I knew what my mother was going to do." 
she said, frowning. 

"Me too." I said... truthfully. 

I said goodbye and told Donna to just try to get some 
sleep. She said that hot bath her mother had put her in 
had helped, so she thought she might do that again and 
then go to bed. Then she kissed me lightly on the lips 
and repeated. "I'm not sorry Bobby." 

So I wandered off back home. It was dark by the time I 
got there, and my mother was still up.
 
"What was that all about?" she asked. 

"She needed some help with some heavy stuff." It was 
hard to lie to my mother, but I managed.

"So... everything's OK?" My mother sounded unsure of 
herself. 

"Yeah, it's fine. We got it all taken care of." I said. 

I went to my room and started getting undressed. I was 
dead tired, both from the physical toll that had been 
extracted from me that day and because of the emotional 
drain on my system. 

Claire came through the door as I was taking my 
underwear off. 

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Her loud whisper was a duplicate of 
Donna's. 

"Don't you EVER knock?" I asked, turning around. The 
fact I was naked didn't even enter into my mind. And 
for once she didn't look at my prick.

"Come on Bobby... what happened?" 

"We got caught. That's what happened." I said grimly. 
This was all Claire's fault anyway... wasn't it? 

So I told Claire what Donna had told me, about HOW we 
got caught. Of course Claire's main worry was whether 
or not ALL of us had gotten caught, or just me and 
Donna. 

I didn't mention the... counseling session... Shirley 
had engaged in with me. It wasn't anybody's business 
but mine and Shirley's.

"What's she going to do?" asked Claire. 

"All I know is she said she was going to put Donna on 
the pill." I said. "Now get out of here. Mom is already 
suspicious. I don't want to go through the same thing 
with her that I went through over there." 

My mind sprocket slipped a few times as images of my 
mother taking her clothes off in front of me flitted 
around in my brain. I shook them off. I had enough 
trouble without something like that. 

Claire left and I rolled into bed. I was asleep in 
seconds. 

Things were tense for a few weeks as everybody waited 
for the other shoe to drop. The posse got together and 
Donna described everything that had happened at the 
creek, and afterwards... in Technicolor, with sound 
effects, I imagine. 

I don't know how Shirley managed it. Not a single 
mother or father approached me and demanded to know 
what I'd been doing with their daughters, but somehow, 
it just came to pass that the whole posse got put on 
birth control by Doctor Phillips, the town physician. 

That's not to say I didn't get a few speculative looks 
from the various adults in my life. Shirley wouldn't 
tell me how she did it either. She just said that 
things had been taken care of... girls being girls, and 
boys being boys. She told me that as she writhed and 
moaned under me another time, not too awfully long 
after the first time, while the posse was over at 
Monique's house at one of their sleepovers. 

I worked up the courage to ask her if she too, had gone 
on the pill. 

"Not yet." she moaned. "I'm still thinking about it. Oh 
yessss, deep like that... that's what I like." 

She told me years later that I was much more vigorous 
when she reminded me that she was unprotected. 

Who understands teenaged women who are in their 
thirties? 

Anyway, the next year was one of those years that it 
was fortunate I was in the prime of my life. With seven 
women making withdrawals from their privately managed 
sperm bank, there were times when the bank came 
perilously close to failing. And I had no FDIC to fall 
back on. 

That's kind of an interesting acronym, relative to that 
situation. Almost ironic, isn't it? 

On the other hand, I became capable of playing those 
women like the fine instruments they were and I could 
make them sing... literally. I know my mother had 
suspicions. I spent way too much time around the posse, 
and they didn't, for some reason, date much. Monique 
let one other guy get into her panties, but that turned 
out to be a one time fling, during which she found out 
that experience counted for a lot in the lovemaking 
game. 

The point is that, while I make it sound like it was a 
trial for me, it wasn't really. That was a fantastic 
year for me. My grades were good and, if my reputation 
suffered because I wasn't going out quite as often, 
with quite as many girls, my self confidence 
flourished. 

There's nothing like having a bunch of women whispering 
in your ear about what a great lover you are to make a 
guy puff up like a rooster. 

So... am I a slut? Most guys would call me a sex 
machine or a cocksman. Maybe a stud, or bull. I don't 
know what most women would call me. I'm kind of partial 
to "studmuffin", but I don't think the guy gets to 
pick. But it doesn't matter what most women would call 
me anyway.

In reality there are only seven, whose opinion really 
matters to me. 

And they're all happy. 

Hey, I gotta run. Shirley called me. She has som... um 
heavy things to move around, and there's nobody there 
to help her right now. So it would be the right thing 
to do to go help her with her problem... right? 

I'll see if I can get back with you in a little while 
and tell you what happened after that. Stay tuned, 
cause I think you'll be entertained.


EPILOGUE: 

Life is strange. You can plan your life out, but don't 
assume your plans will come to fruition. By the time I 
graduated I was exceedingly well fucked, though not in 
the way people usually mean when they say "I'm fucked!" 
That was something I hadn't actually planned on as a 
young man. Most men dream of a career and hope to get 
laid by the time they graduate. With me it was kind of 
reversed. I dreamed of getting laid, and those dreams 
came true much earlier than they do for most men. But I 
never gave much thought to what I'd do with my life 
after High School. Maybe it was because I was living 
that sexual dream. I don't know. 

But the fact was, that when I walked across that stage 
and the Principal handed me my diploma, I had no idea 
what the heck to do next. I'd never wanted to be a 
fireman, or policeman, doctor or lawyer, and I had no 
concept of what most businessmen did. I just never 
thought about it much. I had worked part time for a 
hamburger joint called Sandy's, which was bought out 
and is now known as Hardees, but that wasn't a career 
and I knew it even back then. 

I remember it to this day. I was driving along in town 
one day and I saw one of those big billboards that said 
"Uncle Sam Wants YOU!" with a picture of the kindly 
looking old guy with white hair and a beard, and his 
finger pointing at me. So I went to the recruiting 
office to find out if that was true. 

Turned out it WAS true. So I joined the Navy. 

I spent six glorious years touring the world, almost 
all of it at sea because I loved that. And I found out 
that women all over the world appreciated the same 
exact things I had learned that the posse members 
appreciated. If you treated a woman with a little 
respect, you got all the pussy you could ever dream 
about.
 
Oh sure, there were all the women who were hunting an 
American husband so they could get to the States and 
live the life of Riley, but they were pretty obvious, 
and I learned to avoid them, for the most part. I think 
the ones I liked the best were the ones who were 
curious about what an American male was like, socially 
and sexually. They were... curious... like the girls in 
the posse had been curious. 

Of course all those women hadn't known me for years, or 
been infatuated with me for years, and they didn't, for 
the most part, want to tie themselves to me for the 
rest of their life, or leave the culture in which they 
were most comfortable. But they all loved to feel good, 
at one level or another, and I found out that a warm 
pussy feels the same the world around. 

Well, I found out what it feels like through a condom. 
Those movies they show you every time you leave port 
are pretty damn scary, to say nothing of the stories 
the old timers loved to tell. Did you know they used to 
treat one kind of syphilis by laying out your infected 
prick on a table and smacking it with a big rubber 
hammer? When they did that it squirted, and it wasn't 
semen that came out. You could also hear the patient's 
screams clear through steel walls. 

I only had to hear that scream once and I made sure 
never to expose myself to any potentially infected 
pussies. And it didn't matter if the girl was a virgin 
or not either. In Singapore girls serve in the sex 
trade for years before they actually take a prick 
inside them. So virgins aren't necessarily safe either. 
Anyway, it still felt good, and it was still possible 
to make the girls feel good without giving or getting 
any unwanted little gifts. 

They say that all good things come to an end. A month 
before I was due to re-up, I got thrown into a bulkhead 
while we were riding out a hurricane. I ended up with a 
compound fracture of the bones in my lower right arm, 
an 'iffy back injury' and a cracked skull that led to a 
couple of months in the hospital and a medical 
discharge. 

Just as unplanned as when I joined, I was right back on 
the street, with no prospects. Oh, I had some training, 
but it was the kind of training that doesn't exactly 
mesh with civilian occupations very well. The one 
bright spot was that I had some money saved up, so I 
didn't have to be in a hurry to figure out what I 
wanted to do. 

My parents still lived in the same house, and my stuff 
was still boxed up in my room, so I went back to 
Junctionville to see what life had to offer me there.
 
Of course one of the first things I did was check up on 
the members of the posse. I had gotten a few letters 
from them in that first year I had been gone, and 
Christmas cards every year from most of them. Claire 
wrote to me pretty regularly and kept me abreast of 
what was going on in her life. She mentioned the rest 
of the girls occasionally, but not in any great detail. 
I figured that after they graduated they probably 
drifted away from each other for the most part. That's 
what usually happens, right? 

My mom was, like most moms, overjoyed to see me, even 
though I hadn't called ahead to actually tell her I was 
coming home. She knew it would happen, but not when. 
I'd asked her not to tell anybody about that because I 
wasn't sure how things would shake down. And mom, like 
most moms, was eager to gossip about the girls. She 
didn't show any surprise whatsoever when I asked about 
the posse.

Large Marge married Homer Gilson, of all people, right 
out of High School. She got pregnant almost immediately 
and, my Mom told me, had the cutest little toddler. But 
it turned out Homer had a drinking problem and a couple 
of years was all Marge would stand for. She divorced 
him and hadn't remarried. She worked for one of the 
lawyers in town as a paralegal. 

Loosey Suzy, A.K.A Hot Mamma, went to college and was 
working on her Doctorate in applied physics. She was 
married too, but didn't have any children yet. It 
turned out she was some sort of genius, and was about 
to graduate two years ahead of everybody else in her 
age group. 

All Mom knew about Monique was that she was married and 
had two kids. She and her husband still lived in 
Junktown but Mom didn't know much else. 

Donna got married but was childless thus far. She 
actually worked for my Dad in his Insurance business. 
Mom hinted that my dad was interested in me going to 
work for him. He was getting close to that age when men 
want to retire but are expected to work another ten 
years. Mom suggested that if he had a partner he could 
really trust, he could take more time off work and 
spend it with her. She wanted to see the world outside 
of Junctionville, but not alone. 

Knobby Robby went to college and graduated with an 
education major. Mom said she was the girls' gym 
teacher at the High School, and was coaching a winning 
volleyball team that everybody was right proud of. She 
kept in touch with Mom and asked about me all the time. 
I found that surprising, since she had only written to 
me once after I left for the Navy. She hadn't been 
happy that I enlisted. 

There were a lot of body bags coming back from Viet Nam 
back then and it hadn't looked like it was going to end 
real soon. Of them all she was the only one who 
screamed "I hate you Bobby Watkins!" when I got orders 
to go to basic. It was pretty obvious she didn't want 
me cluttering up her mail box with a bunch of letters, 
so I hadn't.

Claire, of course, I knew more about. Like I said, she 
had written me pretty regularly, so I knew she still 
hadn't found the "right guy". She got a job working for 
a travel agency and was one of the reasons my Mom 
wanted to travel so much. I had fed Claire tips about 
where to send tourists in various places around the 
world. 

You know... which hotels were the best for the 
uninitiated, and what sights to recommend seeing, 
customs and culture stuff... all that that you never 
really get without actually being there. I also gave 
her tips on what Americans did that pissed off nearly 
everybody in other cultures, so she could warn them not 
to do that kind of shit. She had her own apartment now, 
over on the other side of town somewhere. 

I called Claire first. My mother hadn't told her I was 
coming home, as I had asked. She wanted to surprise her 
too. 

"Hey" I said into the phone. 

"Bobby?... BOBBY?!" squealed Claire. I hadn't been all 
that good about calling in the last five or so years. 

"Hi Claire Bear." I said. "I missed you." 

"BOBBY?" she squealed again. "Where ARE you?" 

"Well, at the moment I'm in our parent's house. I have 
my old bedroom back and everything." 

"YOU'RE HOME?!" she squealed. Claire was a good 
squealer. She squealed in bed a lot too, or used to.

"Yeah, I kind of got hurt and they kicked me out. You 
wouldn't know anybody who has a job they need to fill 
do you?" I tried to act like my being home was no big 
deal. I mean everybody had moved on, right? 

"2201 Maple" said my sister tersely. "Be there in ten 
minutes. You are in BIG trouble Mister!" She might have 
moved on, but she was still the Sheriff, or thought she 
was. 

So I borrowed Mom's car and drove over to 2201 Maple, 
which turned out to be my sister's apartment. Half of a 
duplex, actually. I thought it was a little odd that 
she was in her apartment this time of day, especially 
since Mom had said the number she gave me was to where 
Claire worked. 

I knocked on the door and my baby sister opened it... 
stark naked. One slim arm snaked out through the open 
door, grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and dragged me 
into the room. 

I swear to this day that it only took Claire sixty 
seconds to get me naked and drag me into her bedroom 
and push me down on the bed. Somehow, during that 
minute, Mr. Happy, who was, in fact, glad to see Claire 
again too, stood up to get his own hug and kiss of 
welcome back home. Claire let herself down on him, 
engulfing him in one long drop. She gave out that 
wonderful soft sigh of happiness that I'd heard so many 
years before as she settled her clit down onto my pubic 
bone and ground her hips in a little circle. 

For a guy who was in so much trouble I was feeling 
pretty good about things. 

Then she started rocking back and forth, milking my 
already leaking cock, and cussed me like SHE was the 
sailor. She cussed me for not calling, and for writing 
such short letters back to her. She cussed me for 
ruining her sex life by making her perpetually horny. 
She cussed me because she compared every man she went 
out with to me. Somehow it was all MY fault that they 
didn't measure up, and all MY fault that she'd never 
get married, and all MY fault that Mom was hassling her 
about "Where are my grandchildren? I'm getting ancient 
here!". 

Of course, intermixed with all that cussing were little 
statements like "Oooo you feel so good in me Bobby." 
and "Nobody makes me feel like you do Bobby." and 
"Mmmmmm I missed this so much." Things like that. 

In other words, it was STILL impossible to understand 
the opposite sex. 

And then, when she'd worked me up to a fever pitch, she 
leaned down and whispered the bombshell. "I never let 
another man cum in me without a rubber Bobby. You wanna 
squirt up in my pussy?" 

She smothered my groan of assent with her lips and I 
fountained her full of twenty-four year old sperm... 
sperm that was in the prime of its life... sperm 
produced by healthy balls that were mad as hell that 
they had been denied the chance at fertilizing an egg 
for the last six years. Well, the analogy breaks down 
somewhere in there, but you get my drift. 

And, as she felt it flushing into her she got even 
redder in the face and growled "You WOULD come home 
right when I'm ovulating you bastard. You WOULD come 
home and fuck your baby in my belly the very first time 
you put your prick in me in the last six years." She 
sounded mad, but then she moaned "Oh Bobby, make a baby 
in me... pleeease? I've been waiting soooo loooong." 

I may have mentioned this before, but I have to ask the 
question anyway... who understands teenaged girls... 
even when they aren't teenagers any more? 

But I'll tell you this. She drained every single 
healthy, eager sperm cell out of my balls that 
afternoon. She didn't go back to work and she didn't 
let me out of her apartment until Mr. Happy wouldn't 
budge whether she talked nasty, or used her mouth on 
him, or anything. She made it quite plain that it 
wasn't going to be any six years before she got him in 
her again, too. 

Between times we lay there cuddling and caught up. It 
wasn't all heated accusations and cussing. She talked 
about the men she'd met and tried to fall in love with, 
wanting to be "normal" like other women. But she pined 
for her first lover, who just happened to be her 
brother. 

She did get my brat in her belly too. And, oddly 
enough, while she was pregnant, she met Mister Right, 
who didn't care that she'd spread her legs once (thirty 
times!) too often than was good for her. He married her 
and they had four more of their own kids. 

Well... they had four more kids anyway. Claire has 
never stopped pulling me through that door with a naked 
arm once in a while. And I'm a pretty normal looking 
guy, as is Jim, her husband, so who knows who her 
pretty normal looking kids have as a biological father. 
He has siblings too, so Claire's closeness to me isn't 
surprising to him. I don't think he really knows just 
how close we really are, but they're happy, so maybe 
it's better that way. 

This is going to seem a little disjointed, because I'll 
be bouncing back and forth in time, but it's easier to 
tell you what happened with each member of the posse in 
one sitting, so to speak. So be patient, kind reader, 
and understand that.

One evening (before she met mister right) Claire called 
me and said she wanted to have dinner with me at 
Delvechio's, which was a little Italian restaurant that 
had opened up in the new strip mall that had been built 
while I was in the Navy. She told me to meet her there 
at a particular time. That seemed odd to me because 
usually Claire and I just ate at her house when she was 
feeling frisky. But I liked Italian food, and figured I 
should have some kind of relationship with my sister 
that DIDN'T involve sex, so I went. 

When I got there an employee who introduced himself to 
me as 'Bruno' (roll the 'r') smiled with perfect teeth 
and said in some sort of accent that wasn't anything 
close to Italian "Ahhhh you must be Mister Watkins. 
Come with me please." How he recognized me I don't 
know, but he led me to a table that contained my 
sister... and Large Marge. 

Having a baby hadn't done anything bad to Marge at all. 
She was a little thicker in the waist, and didn't look 
quite so top-heavy, but I wouldn't find that out until 
she stood up. Right now those bounteous breasts of hers 
just bulged nicely, hanging over the table as she 
grinned and leaned forward. 

"Hi Bobby." she said. 

It was like I had entered a time machine. Her voice 
sounded exactly like it had when she had said "Hi 
Bobby" the morning after I took her virginity in my 
bedroom.
 
"Hi" I said back. Marge still left me a little tongue 
tied. She was so beautiful, and a few added years only 
made her more beautiful. 

Claire was grinning. "I told her you were back in town 
and she wanted to see you." 
Marge looked up at me with smoldering eyes. "Claire 
told me what you two have been doing. Old ways die 
hard, eh Bobby?" 

I sat down. Bruno had arranged the chair so I'd be 
sitting across from them. "I'm sorry about your 
divorce." I said. I didn't know what else to say. 

"It's OK" she said. "He was a jerk." She smiled. 
"Besides, now I can spend some time with you again." 

Mr. Happy lurched in my pants. Marge always had that 
effect on me.
 
Dinner that night was tense. While we chatted about the 
Navy and what Marge had been doing, and her little girl 
and all sorts of things, what was on everyone's mind 
during dinner was what would happen after dinner. 
Claire didn't give any indications about what the plans 
were though. Isn't it interesting that I expected 
Claire to call the shots? I guess it was a holdover 
from her days as the Sheriff or something. 

Marge grabbed the bill from Bruno when he brought it to 
the table. 

"This one's on me." she said. 

"How will I ever pay you back?" I asked, calling on 
some dim memory of what suave was like. 

"Oh you'll pay." said Marge. And she and Claire both 
laughed out loud.
 
They had ambushed me, and had planned it that way. I 
had a girl on each arm as we left and, to my 
everlasting amazement I learned that some of the 
members of the posse were switch hitters. I had no idea 
they had ever done anything together though, now that I 
think about it, I should have had some suspicions. 
Donna had called me silly one time for thinking that 
the girls didn't know about her inverted nipples, and 
Robby had been embarrassed about being naked in front 
of ME, but not the other two girls, that first time she 
got naked at the creek. Not to mention that kiss she 
gave Donna before I pillaged Miss September's 
maidenhead. And I knew that they had all worked on 
Monique when she "prepared" to lose her virginity in 
that crocheted outfit that I heard the girls calling 
"so cute". And, oh yeah, Marge didn't mind showing them 
her cum-filled pussy either. 

So I shouldn't have been all that surprised when they 
took me back to Claire's apartment, got naked and 
almost fucked my brains out. And when I wasn't able to 
perform between bouts, they pleasured each other in 
ways that spurred my desire to... perform. 

There was a time when I was lying on Marge's bounteous 
boobs, luxuriating in the feel of her hot pussy milking 
my cock for its nectar, when she kissed me and sighed. 
"It would be nice if you could marry me Bobby." Her 
pussy muscles milked me some more and I got close to 
blowing. "But you can't. It just wouldn't be right." 

I didn't know what that meant then and, to be honest, I 
wasn't listening too closely because there was an 
orgasm screaming through my balls right about then. All 
I heard was that she couldn't marry me. 

"If you ever change your mind... let me know." I 
gasped, filling her up with gooey spunk. 

She smiled and kissed me again. "You're so sweet. 
You've always been so sweet."

That from a girl who used to call me the most horrid 
pestilence to ever be loosed on the world. 

I still see Marge too, occasionally. She's dating a 
couple of guys but she says neither of them are 
serious. She's never mentioned marriage again. I found 
out later why. 

The next member of the posse I ran into was Unique 
Monique. As I said, she was married and had two kids, 
the latest of which was only eleven months old when I 
ran into her at the grocery store. I was perusing the 
ever-growing number of different kinds of breakfast 
cereal when she turned the corner, pushing her cart 
towards me. We saw each other at the same time. I had 
been back a week but hadn't contacted her. I thought it 
might be a little awkward, her being married and all. 

Gentlemen, one thing you really need to remember is 
that a woman NEVER forgets her first man. That first 
full sexual experience, whether it goes really well, or 
disastrously, is imprinted on her brain until the day 
she dies. In the vast majority of situations, that's 
all it is... a memory... but once in a while, it's 
unfinished business too. After all the posse got 
deflowered, Monique came back for seconds and thirds 
and so forth up until the day I left for the Navy. She 
loved the way I made her feel, and I loved making her 
feel that way. 

When she saw me, and it connected who I was, the look 
on her face was classic. 

Monique was a lady. She didn't squeal or shout or 
anything. She pushed her cart up to me and said "I 
didn't know you were back in town." Her posture, and 
her voice and everything else about her, that a 
bystander might have observed, was completely normal... 
just a woman bumping into a man she was acquainted 
with. 

But I could see what was in her eyes, and it looked 
just exactly like I remembered her eyes looking those 
times she showed up at our house and said "Hi Bobby." 
in that special voice she had that said, between those 
two simple words: "Bobby, I need a nice hard prick in 
me and sooner would be MUCH better than making me 
wait."

 We finished walking the aisles together and I admired 
her baby, which was a beautiful little boy she had 
named Theodore. Her other child, a two year old, was at 
her neighbor's house. The neighbor was another girl 
we'd gone to High School with, named Linda, who had 
gotten married right out of High School and started 
having babies of her own. She opened her house as a Day 
Care Center and took care of Monique's daughter, 
Nicole, during those few times Monique needed to be 
gone from the house. Monique, it turned out, was a 
stay-at-home mom, whose husband worked over in Derby at 
a natural gas pumping station there. 

Somehow I ended up following Monique home and carrying 
her groceries in for her while she took care of little 
Theodore, who was wet and hungry. I put her groceries 
in the kitchen and the cold stuff in the refrigerator 
and when I called out that I was done Monique yelled 
that she was almost done and for me not to go anywhere. 

Then she walked into the living room, her upper torso 
just as naked as the day she was born, with cute little 
Teddy firmly attached to a fat dark brown nipple. He 
was a noisy eater, I'll tell you that. Monique acted 
like I'd watched her nurse her son every day since he 
was born and continued to chat with me about this and 
that until she had burped him and his head got all 
noddy. 

"C'mon" she said, and I followed her to the kids room, 
where there were all the things little girls love and a 
crib for Teddy with toy elves and such suspended over 
it and other things like that. She put him down and 
then turned around to face me, her big, milk-filled 
breasts sticking out at me like the front bumper of a 
'56 Buick. 

"I've never cheated on Roger.": she said casually as 
she bent over, sliding her slacks down and stepping out 
of them. 

"As you shouldn't have." I said. I wanted her to have 
the opportunity to be able to say the same thing in 
about ten minutes. 

"This is different." she said. 

"Oh?" I asked. 

"Yes." she said simply. 

Monique liked to be on top too, and her breasts leaked 
all over me, dripping hot, white milk on my chest until 
she suggested it would be a lot less messy if I licked 
her nipples. I sucked instead and got mouthfuls of that 
warm, sweet offering as she rode my cock in that same 
languid way we had made love all those years ago. 

"This feels so good," she said, as if we were having a 
conversation about sitting in the sun. 

"What about Roger?" I asked. I liked what we were 
doing, and had done it to a lot of lonely navy wives in 
one port city or another, but I wasn't out to wreck any 
homes. 

She rocked on me and shivered as I sucked her milk. "I 
love him and I'll never leave him, but he wants me to 
make love to other men." 

"You're kidding." I said, astonished, letting that fat 
lovely nipple pop out of my mouth. 

"He's a little wimpy," she said, almost apologetically. 
"He says he likes to feel like his wife is attractive 
to other men, and that the idea of seeing me being made 
love to by another man makes him horny. He's been 
trying to get me to do this for a long time. I wouldn't 
do it before, but now that you're home I think I can 
make him happy from now on." 

"Oh," I said. I would never have pegged Monique to be 
attracted to that kind of man. 

"Besides," she said, rocking harder and panting. "Roger 
already gave me two beautiful babies." 

She came on my cock and moaned. "And I never got to 
have yours." 

Presto. For the second time in a week a woman was 
asking me to knock her up. I was beginning to be very 
glad we'd sailed into that hurricane. 

It turned out that Monique had met Roger at a seminar 
she attended while she was in college. He was from back 
East somewhere and was... different... from anyone 
she’d ever met before. She invited me to dinner a 
couple of days after I carried her groceries in for her 
and introduced me to Roger as the man that would make 
his dreams come true. I had no idea how he'd react, but 
Monique didn't seem to be worried at all. It was as 
different a situation as I've ever been in. 

That night I made love to a woman for the first time in 
my life while her husband sat in a chair and watched. 
It was surreal and I didn't think at first that I'd be 
able to actually make Roger's dream come true. I was 
also a little distracted by having to make constant 
checks on him to make sure he hadn't gone to get a 
baseball bat while I lay between his wife's legs and 
she urged me to give them their third child. But when 
he hauled out his dick and began whaling on it like 
there was no tomorrow I realized he really WAS 
different in some way that I still don't understand. 

So I forgot about him and set about making one of 
Monique's dreams come true.

 I noticed something about Monique while I spurted her 
full of my semen in front of her husband. Her orgasms 
were different. When we had made love in the past she 
had tight almost controlled orgasms, where she tensed 
up and made little mewling sounds of appreciation and 
joy. But when Roger was watching she got loud and wild 
in her gyrations, thrusting up at me harder. 

At first I thought she was acting, but as time passed I 
realized she was actually letting herself go. She was 
doing that for Roger - experiencing something with us 
both that she couldn't experience with only one of us 
present. When she went wild under me, he went wild in 
that chair. In a weird twisted way she loved him and 
understood him and wanted him to be happy. 

She thought - and she was right as far as I can tell - 
that Roger NEEDED that kind of stimulation to get off 
in a way that was most pleasurable for him. I talked 
about all this with a shrink friend of mine one time 
and he hypothesized that Roger had a letch for his 
mother (Don't all shrinks think that way?) and that 
watching Monique and me was feeding his fantasy of 
watching his mother and father make love. 

That was a strange relationship. It still is. Monique 
told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed 
to fuck her without a rubber until she was good and 
pregnant and that if he didn't like it he needed to 
remember that it was all his idea in the first place. I 
don't think she ever told him what she told the girls - 
that some day she'd have my baby.

I gained ten pounds going to dinner at Monique's house 
over the next month and Roger shook my hand every time 
I showed up. In the end Roger was very happy, and so 
was Monique. She had a little girl and they named her 
Bobbie Jean. Roger's mother was named Jean. 

It was a strange relationship. For that matter it still 
is, though I only get invited to dinner every other 
month or so these days and Monique has gone back on the 
pill. She's still the most unique woman I know. Her 
husband too, for that matter. Except he's a man. You 
know what I mean. 

I went to work for my father and found out that I have 
a knack for helping people understand how insurance and 
annuities and all those kinds of things can help a 
family plan for the future so that retirement isn't a 
financial drag. I made a bit of money along the way, 
though for me, as long as I had enough to get by on I 
was pretty much happy. I thought about other people's 
futures a lot more than my own. Go figure. 

Working with Miss September was interesting. Donna was 
happily married, and didn't say anything about yearning 
to have my baby or anything like that. She was very 
warm toward me and just as beautiful as ever. She'd 
filled out a little and was more lush looking. Her 
attitude in the office was very professional and I 
really enjoyed being around her all day.

For the first couple of months I was getting all the 
sex any man could want from Claire, Marge and Monique, 
so it was easy to just appreciate Donna for who she was 
without getting a boner every time I looked at her. 
Even though I got a boner just about every day at one 
time or another... from looking at her.

One day Donna came into my office and leaned against 
the wall with her arms folded. 

"So... how long are you going to delay seeing Robby?" 
she asked. 

I knew Donna and Robby were still friends. Donna had 
mentioned Roberta several times, in passing 
conversation, and had told me a few things about 
Robby's volleyball team and all that. I couldn't 
remember if I'd actually asked for any of that 
information or not, and I couldn't understand or 
explain why I hadn't gone to see Knobby Robby. That 
made me uncomfortable. 

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked. 

"Well, you've seen everyone except Roberta and Suzy," 
She put some uncomfortable emphasis on the word "seen". 
She went on "and Suzy is too busy to be bothered with 
you right now. So why haven't you gone to see Robby?" 

Obviously the posse kept in better touch with each 
other than I thought they had.

"Well," I said. And then I ran out of words. I didn't 
actually know why I had stayed away from Robby. "I 
don't know." I finally finished. 

"She knows you're back." said Donna. 

"She does, does she." I stated. I was very 
uncomfortable for some reason. 

"Yes... she does," said Donna unhelpfully. 

I looked at Donna, who was sweet and loving and in all 
ways a person I would categorize as a friend. "I don't 
know how to act around Robby." I said.

Donna looked at me like I was some kind of bug or 
something. "You've been friends with Robby since you 
were a little boy! What do you mean you don't know how 
to act around her?" 

I got exasperated. "I don't know!" I got grumpy too. 
"She never wrote to me but once, so I thought she 
didn't want to have anything to do with me any more."
 
"And how many times did you write to her?" asked Miss 
September.
 
"How many times did I write to you?" I asked, thinking 
I'd score one. I couldn't remember, but I knew I'd 
answered one or two of her letters. 

"Five," she said firmly. 

Had it really been that many? 

"And you wrote to Suzy two times, and to Marge three 
times, and to Monique once. We didn't keep track of 
Claire's letters. You treated her properly."
 
"Oh," was all I could manage. 

"You hurt Roberta's feelings Bobby." said Donna in a 
voice that suggested I might be responsible for taking 
food from starving children all over the world. 

"I seem to be pretty good at that," I agreed miserably. 
"I don't understand it Donna. I always liked Robby." 

"So how long are you going to punish her?" asked the 
woman who I wished would go away and leave me alone 
now. 

"I'm not punishing her. She hasn't done anything 
wrong," I said. 

"That's nice to hear. Maybe Roberta would like to hear 
that too." she suggested.
 
"She has to hate me by now," I said. 

"She has a right to," said Donna, getting more and more 
unhelpful all the time.
 
"Why are you tormenting me?" I complained. 

"Because you NEED to be tormented. Bobby... go see 
her... please? She deserves that Bobby." Donna had 
changed her voice in the middle of that sentence, from 
accusatory to pleading. 

"Why do YOU care so much about this?" I asked, still 
trying to dodge her suggestion. 

"Because I love Robby and I love you and I don't want 
there to be this problem," she said. 

"Why dredge up old feelings?" I asked. "I mean look at 
you. You're happy. You don't want anything to do with 
me... I mean like we used to... you know?" 

"Whatever made you think that?" asked Donna. 

"Well, you're happily married and all that, and you 
obviously disapprove of what I've been doing with the 
others," I said. 

Donna had that "you miserable bug" look back in her eye 
and she folded her arms under breasts that had grown a 
little, and which, occasionally, showed two very 
obviously NOT inverted nipples on those breasts under 
the silk blouses she liked to wear. 

"You are just as stupid as you were six years ago Bobby 
Watkins. Sometimes I don't think you deserve to be 
happy!" And with that she turned and stalked out of my 
office. I was left wondering what the hell I had said 
that got her so riled up, and what the hell I should do 
now. 

For the next week none of the women who had invited me 
into their beds seemed to have any time at all for me. 
I may have been stupid, but I got the message. I had to 
make amends with Robby or I was going to be persona non 
gratis, or whatever the hell it is they call somebody 
who's been cut off from the rest of the world.
 
By the time I showed up at the school, I had been back 
for two months. I had thought about going to see Robby 
at her house, which was a little two bedroom place on 
Washington street near the High School that, when I 
left for the Navy, had been owned by an old widow woman 
who routinely yelled at passing kids to stay out of her 
flowers. There had been no flowers in her yard and 
everybody thought she was crazy. I guess she had died, 
or moved to a nursing home or whatever, because Robby 
was living there now. 

But I couldn't work up the courage to face her in 
private. I thought seeing her at school might keep her 
from yelling at me or anything. So, at four in the 
afternoon I wandered into my old High School, and 
walked down the deserted hallway to the gym teachers' 
office suite. The men teachers had offices on one side 
of a dividing wall, and there was a small office on the 
other side of the wall reserved for the girls' gym 
teacher. On the glass were painted letters that spelled 
out "Miss Simms". Through the glass and the open 
Venetian blinds inside I could see a woman sitting at 
the desk, going through papers of some sort. 

I knocked on the door and Robby looked up. I knew it 
was Robby because of the angular features of her face. 
But that's all I recognized. Knobby Robby wasn't 
anything near knobby any more. Six years had brought 
her at last to the place where anyone looking at her 
saw a woman, and not a girl. 

She stared at me for a few seconds and then went back 
to her papers. 

All I could do was swallow and knock again. 

She looked up again. Her hair was different somehow. It 
was pulled back in a pony tail, like it always had 
been, but it was longer and darker blond. She was 
tanned, as I remembered her, but there was more flesh 
on her face. I realized with shock she was wearing 
lipstick, and her eyebrows were darker and more 
pronounced than when I last saw her. She got up, came 
to the door... 

And pulled the cord that shut the blinds. 

The door did NOT open. There was a heavy clicking noise 
from the knob, though. 

I tried the knob. It was locked. Miss Simms was, 
indeed, unhappy with me.

After all it had taken me to actually make myself go 
there... I got mad. I turned and went back down the 
hall to another room I was familiar with. The door 
there was open, as it almost always had been in my 
memory. I looked in and saw good old Mister Jackson, 
the school custodian, who had been there when my 
parents went to this school. 

"Hey Mister Jackson" I said. He looked up and gave me 
that look that all such men have cultivated that means 
"I should remember you, but there have been so many 
people who came and went through that door that I 
really won't even try." Instead, he smiled and said 
"How can I help you?" 

"We can't seem to get the door open down at Miss Simms' 
office. It's locked." I said it like I had a right to 
get into that office and was just temporarily 
obstructed. I learned how to do that while I was in the 
Navy. Act like you're doing something official and 
nobody asks any questions. 

"That's odd." said Mister Jackson. "Robby never locks 
her door." 

Mister Jackson called Miss Simms, "Robby." 

"Yes... well, it's locked now." I said, putting a 
little impatience in my voice.
 
"OK, I've got the key around here somewhere." he said. 
He got up, pulled a wad of keys off of a clip on his 
belt and went through them. "Here we go." he said, 
choosing one. 

I followed him down the hall and watched as he inserted 
the key in the lock and twisted it. He pushed the door 
open and there was Miss Simms, still sitting at her 
desk, going through those papers. She looked up. 

"Oh... sorry Robby" said Mr. Jackson, showing respect 
to a woman who was forty years younger than he was. 
"This youngster here said he needed in here."
 
Me? A youngster? I was a trained killer who shaved 
every single day! 

"It's OK Horace." said Miss Simms in a voice every 
teacher learns to use somehow. "He's a little dim 
witted and doesn't know how to properly make an 
appointment to visit a teacher. I suppose I can give 
him a few minutes."
 
I got a look from "Horace" and he turned back to Robby. 
"Well, if you're sure. You want me to call Mister 
Robinson?" he asked. 

Mister Robinson was the Vice Principal. He dealt with 
unruly students and other unwanted problems. 

Robby stood up and smiled a tight little smile. "No, 
that's OK Horace. Thank you. I'll deal with this." I 
didn't like the way she said the word "deal". 

"Horace" gave me a last look that suggested I'd better 
behave myself if I knew what was good for me. The poor 
guy was so decrepit that it probably took him ten 
minutes to work up the energy to change a roll of 
toilet paper, but his shoulders squared up and there 
was a dark look in his eyes that communicated that he 
was willing to... take measures... if he was called on 
to do so. Then, still straight, he shuffled off down 
the hall. 

I stepped into the office before Robby could get up and 
close the door again.
 
But I had nothing to say. I was paralyzed. I was a five 
year old in front of the teacher. I never felt more 
helpless in my entire life. 

"Uh... hi," I croaked. 

I stared at Miss Simms. She had breasts... and hips... 
and muscles. She was, without a doubt, beautiful in a 
"strong woman" kind of way, with that obvious, visible 
confidence that makes rapists choose another victim.
 
She put her hands on her hips. "What are YOU looking 
at?" she said. She still knew how to deliver that line 
perfectly. 

My anger had melted away, and my courage with it. I 
looked around and saw straight backed chairs lined up 
on the wall across from her desk. I sat in one of them. 
I looked at the floor in horror. 

I had just had an epiphany. 

Truth had just smote me like the sun smites your eyes 
when you walk out of a dark room into the open 
sunlight. I don't know if it was the way she looked, or 
the sound of her voice, or her stance or just what it 
was, but I had just realized why I was so completely 
useless at that moment. 

I was in love with Roberta Simms. 

Not only that... I had ALWAYS been in love with Roberta 
Simms.
 
I had heard about "love" all my life, and talked to 
countless sailors about how it felt to be in love. I 
had, a couple of times in my life - usually involving a 
naked woman - said "I love you" or words to that 
effect, even though I hadn't really meant them. I might 
have THOUGHT I meant them, but I now realized I had 
never actually understood those words in the past. And, 
I had heard those words from various women too, no 
small number of them in Claire's posse. 

And even from Roberta Simms. 

Except that back then I thought it was just newly 
fucked hormones saying it, and not Robby. I imagine 
that any time one of the posse told me she loved me, or 
that she had loved me for a long time, I just thought 
it carried the same meaning as "I just love popcorn" 
does at the movies. 

But now... I understood that what I had felt... but not 
recognized... had been real, and deep, and a part of my 
essence. This woman owned a piece of me deep inside. 

And the realization of the fact that I was in love with 
Robby, and my memories of the way I'd treated her .. 
back then... and since then... well, they just crushed 
my heart like a steamroller going over an injured puppy 
that can't crawl out of the way. 

I was horrified. If I'd have had a gun it might have 
been messy. 

I know this sounds a little over the top to you out 
there in reader-land. But the fact was that I suddenly 
knew I was in love with a woman who would never love me 
back... hated me right then, in fact... and with good 
reason, like Donna had said. 

I saw the tears hitting the tile floor before I felt 
their hot trail down my cheeks. I felt panic rushing 
through my veins like fire. I had to get out of there.
 
It was about then that I heard the door next to me 
close solidly. I also heard the lock being activated 
again, scraping closed like a massive lock on a heavy 
cell door being shut by a disheveled turnkey in an old 
dungeon. I realized my shoulders were shaking as I 
tried to sob without making any noise. 

I kept staring at the floor and heard the desk chair 
creak and move on its rollers as she sat back down. I 
had let my hair grow after finding out I would actually 
be getting out of the Service and enough of it hung 
down in the front that I could peek through it. Miss 
Simms was... again... looking through those damn 
papers. 

She was being kind, of all things... giving me a chance 
to get control of myself. It just made me feel even 
worse. She should have screamed at me. I wouldn't have 
minded a bit. I'd even have welcomed her wrath. 

But she just sat there, looking beautiful and cool and 
adult. 

I took a ragged breath. Once I did that I had the 
energy to stand up and turn toward the door. 

"I'm sorry." My voice sounded strange to me. I realized 
my mouth was dry as a bone, and wasn't working right. 

"What?" came Robby's voice. 

I swallowed. "I said I'm sorry." I repeated, louder. I 
reached for the lock lever.

"Sit down." said Miss Simms in her authoritative 
teacher's voice. "We're not done here."
 
My head swiveled, "I said I was sorry. And I meant it. 
Can I go now?"
 
"What, exactly, are you sorry for?" asked Miss Simms. 

"Don't make me do this Robby," I pleaded. "I said I was 
sorry. Let's just leave it at that, OK?" 

"Sit DOWN!" ordered Miss Simms. 

OK, I deserved this. SHE deserved this. I sat. 

"Look at me," said Miss Simms. 

I peeked through the hair in front of my eyes again. 
Miss Simms looked like that hurricane looked before we 
sailed right into its teeth. 

"You are SO gutless!" she snapped. 

"Yes," I agreed with her. 

"And THOUGHTLESS! You are SO THOUGHTLESS!" 

"Yes," I agreed again. 

"And you have the morals of a mink!" she growled. 

I didn't think that even needed any agreement. It was 
obvious. 

"And STUPID! You're unbelievably DENSE!" 

It sounded like this wasn't going to end real soon. But 
I actually felt a little better. She was right. And I 
deserved it, after all. 

I finally was able to look right at her. "Guilty as 
charged," I managed. 

"So WHY... tell me WHY... do I still love you?" Her 
voice had real question in it. 

"Beg your pardon?" I asked... stupidly, I might add. 
She hadn't stuttered, and my ears didn't flap. 

"Why do I still love you, even though you treat me 
horribly, are stupid as a block of wood and have the 
morals of an alley cat?" She said that very clearly.
 
"You love me?" I asked. Remember, I was dense. She had 
said so and she was absolutely correct. 

She shook her head sadly and looked up at the ceiling. 
"There must have been a hundred men - NICE men... 
POLITE men... HANDSOME men - who have begged me to go 
out with them, who offered me a NORMAL life, a 
RESPECTABLE life..." 

She muttered that last part and trailed off. Then she 
fastened those diamond eyes right back on me. 

"But OH NO, I have to be in love with... YOU!" She 
sounded thoroughly disgusted.
 
"You LOVE me?!" I said like some kind of puppet. 

"I've always loved you, you idiot!" she said, 
exasperation leaking into her voice.
 
"But I've always loved YOU!" I blurted. 

"Oh really?" She said that much too sweetly. 

"I mean I didn't know it then, but I realized it a few 
minutes ago and... you LOVE ME?" It was finally sinking 
in that my life might not actually be over.
 
Miss Simms came over to me and stood inches away from 
me... blocking my escape, I might add. 

"Kiss me," she said. She said it just like she'd said 
it at the Creek, so many years ago. 

"Are you sure?" I asked. I was still reeling. A little 
kernel of pure, unadulterated joy had sparked to life 
deep in my gut and threatened to explode into violent, 
raging flames that no fire department on earth could 
even hope to make a dent in. 

"Do I have to call Horace back in here?" she asked with 
that too sweet voice.

I kissed her. 

She kissed me back. And she MEANT it! 

Then she pushed me away. "Something made me wait for 
you. Donna told me to wait for you. They ALL told me to 
wait for you. I thought they were insane. I just KNEW I 
was just as much a fool as you are, that you'd never 
come back. And here you are, like a bad penny... like a 
rock in my shoe that I can't find and get rid of."
 
Then she kissed me again. 

You know that fantasy every boy has to take the 
gorgeous teacher on her own desk? 

Well, it wasn't quite like that. 

Actually, she took ME on her own desk. I really wish I 
could remember that whole... um... incident... better. 
I have a memory of big, pink-nippled breasts, that I 
know I put my mouth all over and the complete lack of 
hair where I expected there to be some, and of clasping 
tight pussy hugging my outrageously stiff prick. I 
remember a few words, chief among them "Oh Bobby I've 
waited so long for this... why did you make me wait so 
long?" 

There IS one thing I remember with crystal clarity 
about what happened in Miss Simms' office that 
afternoon. I remember her hand sweeping those damned 
papers she had been so interested in off the desk. They 
fluttered everywhere, like snow as they settled to the 
floor. I remember the immense satisfaction of feeling 
that I was more important than those papers after all. 

But the rest is a blur that was eaten almost completely 
by those raging flames of joy that consumed me that 
afternoon in Miss Simms' office at Junktown High. 
Oh, sure, I've relived that scene countless times since 
then - not in the office, of course. And each time, 
whether it's in our marriage bed, in that little house 
on Washington Street, or in the three houses we moved 
into after that as her flat, well-muscled belly grew 
with child after child, that joy consumed me over and 
over again as I shared something precious and 
irreplaceable that I'd almost missed out on. 

The whole posse was in the wedding, of course. And, of 
course, Claire was the Maid of Honor. Who else, right? 
We didn't get to take much of a honeymoon. The wedding 
took place right in the middle of volleyball season and 
I found out I wasn't the only thing important to my new 
wife. I complained about it a little bit that first 
night we stayed in a cozy bed and breakfast place up in 
the mountains. 

We only had three days planned there, with a little 
skiing, thrown in between really strenuous activities 
in bed. I had just tried to actually fertilize my 
wife's egg for probably the fourth time in the ten 
hours we'd been there and complained that I needed more 
time than just three days to ensure success. 

"Nonsense" she said happily, panting slightly as she 
sat on top of me. She said she liked that position 
most, since that was the first way she'd felt my prick 
firing off in her. "We have the rest of our lives to 
make babies." 

She ground her clit against my pubic bone, working up 
to another orgasm. She'd had ten or twelve to my four. 
It just wasn't fair. Women have such an advantage over 
men. 

"Besides, I have other interests than just you, you 
know." she said, making it clear with her motions that 
the only thing she was concentrating on at that 
particular moment was... me. "I can't spend ALL my time 
in bed with you." She rocked her way through another 
orgasm and then slowed down just a little, still 
rubbing. "We need to talk about the girls." she said. 

I wasn't sure I was ready for this conversation. During 
the two weeks it had taken to arrange a wedding, every 
time I brought up the other women in the posse and 
tried to apologize for my mink-like behavior, all she 
ever said was "I don't want to talk about it. We'll 
discuss that after we're married." 

And... after that wild time in her office, she wouldn't 
let me near her naked... until after the wedding. 
Neither would any of the other women, not that I tried 
or anything. They just made it clear that my attentions 
were no longer welcome.
 
"What's to talk about?" I asked in my most subservient 
husbandly voice. 

"You need to save a little for the others. They still 
want me to share, you know."

"Beg your pardon?" I gasped as her pussy started 
milking me again. 

"They saved you for me." she said, rocking harder. 
"They all wanted you, but they saved you for me." she 
panted. "So it's only right that I share a little... 
every once in a while... you know." 

I didn't know. I didn't even suspect. I tried to 
concentrate, but it was getting harder and harder... no 
pun intended. 

"You'd let me? With them?" I gasped. 

"We've shared you this long" she grunted, her pussy 
going into overdrive. "What could a few more years 
matter? They'll get tired of you sooner or later. 
You're VERY exasperating, you know." She had ANOTHER 
orgasm. When that one wound down she lay down on top of 
me and just squeezed the spunk right out of me. 

As I tried for the FIFTH time to make a baby in my 
wonderful, beautiful, loving Knobby Robby she whispered 
in my ear. 

"And you're WAY too much man for me to handle alone." 

So... there you have it. Fifteen years later I have 
eight children that I KNOW are mine - five with Robby, 
two with Claire and one with Monique. Shirley won't 
admit her son is mine, but his baby pictures look like 
she stole them from my mother's picture albums.

Donna had another baby nine months after the honeymoon. 
After I got back to work I found out she'd been waiting 
to see if I proposed to Roberta before she decided to 
grace me with her pussy again. She was the one who 
asked Robby to share after the honeymoon. She insists 
she made love to her husband as often as she made love 
to me after that. 

Marge is the only one who hasn't popped a baby since I 
got out of the Navy and that doesn't seem to be from 
lack of trying. Claire actually had the gall to ask me 
why I wasn't trying hard enough to get Marge pregnant!

And me? Well, I lost the ten pounds Monique's dinners 
put on me, and ten more to boot. I got a little more 
rest when everybody turned up gravid with child, though 
after the babies were born everybody seemed to want to 
be pregnant again. Knowing what women go through to 
have a child I just don't understand that. 

But, Robby told me last night that at least three of 
them have told her that they won't be needing my 
services much longer. 

I sure wish she'd tell me which three, though. 

So, what are the things I learned along the way to 
becoming a cocksman? 

Well, I learned that most women, despite all their 
primping and all that, don't REALLY think they're 
attractive, or at least they believe that some part of 
them is patently UN-attractive. Because of that they 
really love being convinced that they are, in fact, 
attractive and sexy. 

I learned that you can almost always find something 
about a woman to appreciate and compliment. They don't 
want lies. They want you to honestly like something 
about them. And it's not always something about their 
body!

I learned that if you find a way to honestly care about 
a woman, she can tell, and she'll appreciate that more 
than almost anything else you do. 

I learned that women want to be in charge sometimes, 
and that sometimes they want you to be in charge. 
Wisdom is being able to tell the difference and adapt.

I learned that women are just like men, in that they 
have fears, and hopes, and dreams. I learned that, if 
you play honestly to the hopes and dreams, and downplay 
the fears, it will, more often than not, get you laid, 
laid often, and laid well. 

I learned that if you take care of a woman's sexual 
needs first, and then worry about your own, she will do 
almost anything to help you handle those needs.

And, finally, I learned that being a cocksman isn't all 
velvety pussy walls wrapped around your spurting cock. 
It takes a lot of work and patience and even some self 
sacrifice. When it comes to being a cocksman, the old 
adage is truer than ever: What goes around... comes 
around.

And, when you've learned all that... I think that's 
what actually MAKES you a cocksman.

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 46