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Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2005 11:09:45 +0000

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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#15.txt) ---




Ch. 15 Codes: Mf, teen, oral, rom









CHAPTER FIFTEEN



Marianne's eighteenth birthday was on Wednesday.  Since I was still an

unknown quantity to her family (with the exception of Hayley), I was left out

of the primary celebration of her majority.  Marianne explained to me how she

had had Giselle call her house pretending to be an official from the "raffle"

and delivering the news of the new car.  The Bug itself arrived Thursday

afternoon to much shrieking and screaming.  I watched the scene down the

street from a second floor window of my house but stayed out of it.



On Friday night, Marianne told her parents that she was going out (in her new

car) to celebrate her birthday with her friends, although she was really

going out with me.  She arrived at seven-forty-five dressed in a pale blue

slip dress.  From the fit of the thing, it didn't look like she was wearing a

bra, but her big tits seemed under control nonetheless, so I decided that she

had stick-ons or some strapless contraption under it.  Ivory nylons and pumps

completed the look.



She gave me as big a kiss as she could with ruining her makeup.



"Hi, babe."



"Kitten.  How's the car?"



She smiled.



"It is *so* cool.  You can't imagine how phat it is.  I get dizzy just

driving it around.  And it has the most totally awesome stereo."



"You ready to go?"



"I'm driving, right?"



I laughed.



"Of course."



She bounced back out to the driveway and got into the Bug.  I climbed into

the passenger seat and took in the interior.  It really was very nice,

typical Teutonic styling--neat, clean, modernist lines without a lot of

useless gadgetry.



Marianne turned on the ignition, and some deafening techno-punk music came

blasting out of eight speakers at once.  My hands shot over my ears

involuntarily, and Marianne reached for the volume, turning it down about

thirty decibels.



I rubbed my ears and stretched my jaw.



"Ouch."



"Sorry.  But this really is a great stereo."



The lead singer was screeching something like "everything he lacks he makes

up in denial."



"What is this?"



"The Offspring."



"Never heard of them.  Who are they?"



"A punk band.  This is my totally fave song."



"I was into punk rock in college.  I guess things have changed."



"That was what, 1970-something?"



"I graduated in 1980.  Punk back then was the Sex Pistols and the Dead

Kennedys."



"Some people still listen to the DKs.  They've got this song that's like 'I'm

too drunk--"



"'To Fuck,' right.  We used to play that thing just endlessly."



"It's a cool song."



I reflected for a moment that I was dating someone who hadn't even been born

when I got out of college.  Her parents hadn't even been married when I lost

my virginity to Mary Jo Beadman in 1975.  I wondered what had ever happened

to her.



Marianne reached the entrance to our neighborhood.



"So where are we going?"



"Down the hill toward the beach.  We have reservations at Bernardo's."



Her face lit up.



"Phat.  I've never been there.  Is it good?"



"Some of the best Italian food you'll find south of San Francisco."



I knew, of course, that Marianne was quite fond of that sort of cuisine.  She

got us to Bernardo's just before eight, and the valet took her Bug.  She gave

it a last lingering glance before taking my arm and following me inside.



The maitre d' welcomed us as we entered the foyer.



"Mr. Chandler, so nice to see you again.  And this lovely young lady must be

the guest of honor tonight."



He summoned a waiter.



"Everything is as you requested.  Please enjoy your evening."



I tipped him twenty bucks as we entered the restaurant, and the bill

disappeared into his coat pocket as if nothing had occurred.  The waiter led

us to a table in the corner, overlooking the beach.  He helped Marianne into

her seat and then me into mine.  He handed us the menus and then withdrew.



Marianne looked around the restaurant, still a little in awe.



"You've been here before?"



"I come here fairly often on business.  So they know who I am."



"It must be nice to have people kiss your butt all the time."



I laughed.



"It's only because I'm a regular here.	There are plenty of places in town

where we could be treated like peons if you'd like that better."



I felt her toe stroking my leg.



"No.  This is great."



The waiter returned with a bottle of Roederer, which he opened and served

without a glance at Marianne.  He ran through the evening's specials and then

left again to let us decide.



Marianne regarded her champagne for a moment and then took a sip.



"Wow.  This is really . . ."



She struggled for the right description.



"Dry," I offered.



"Yeah."



"That's how it's supposed to be.  The champagne you may have had before was

probably a lot sweeter."



"Sweeter, and kind of nasty.  But this is good."



"I hope so.  It doesn't get much more expensive than this."  I lifted my

glass and tapped it to hers.  "Happy Birthday."



She took another sip and giggled.



"It's going to my head."



"Enjoy it.  It's your birthday."



Her toe continued to stroke my leg.



"I have some surprises for you, too.  But you'll just have to wait."



Marianne settled on the Veal Marsala, and I got the Lobster and Crab Ravioli.

 The food was excellent, as always, and we spent two hours eating and

flirting with each other.  Bernardo's had a strolling violinist on Friday and

Saturday nights, and when they brought out our desserts, he came over and

played with the waiters when they sang "Happy Birthday."



Marianne was a bit tipsy from the champagne by the time we were done, so she

gave me the keys to her Bug as we left.



"Do you have anything else planned?"



"Just home," I said.



"I don't want to go home yet.  Can we go somewhere else, just to sit and talk

some more?"



"In the car or out?"



"I don't care."



The valet brought up the Bug, and as I listened to the Offspring chanting

about some girl with "issues," I drove us down the beach to a public park on

the cliff above the surf.  "I wish you wouldn't call me daddy when we're

gettin' it on," they sang, and I gave sincere thanks that I didn't seem to

have that problem.



The temperature was still in the seventies, but I gave Marianne my coat

anyway.  We walked out to a bench overlooking the ocean.  Marianne took my

hand and leaned against my shoulder.



"We're legal," she said after we had been sitting together for a few minutes.



"Yep."



"I've been thinking."



"About what?"



"I need to tell my parents about you.  Some time.  I don't think there's

anything to be ashamed of now."



"What do you think they'll do?"



"My dad will go postal.  My mom, I don't know.	She's always kind of leaned

on me to 'date responsibly,' whatever that means.  She never liked Randy.  I

don't know what she'd make of you.  She's the same age you are."



"What can they do, at this point?"



"Throw me out of the house.  I don't know if it would come to that, though."



A chill ran down my spine as I thought of such a confrontation.



"I don't want you to have to make that choice."



"I already have.  If they want me to go, I will."



I kicked myself internally as I realized that Marianne had thought this

through further than I had.  But (not that it was a very difficult decision),

I knew I would take her in if I had to, since I would be the reason her

parents threw her out.	Yes, I had been thinking marriage, kids, old age

together, but I was thinking of that for the future, once Marianne had left

for college or at least graduated.  Not while she was still in high school.



She snuggled against me.



"Take me home."



On the drive back, I took the opportunity to stroke Marianne's leg.  She

purred as I did, sliding down the seat a little.  I felt up under her dress,

and she opened herself further.  Thereupon, I discovered--oh ho!, I thought

to myself--that she was not wearing nylons, as I had assumed.  The sheer

fabric gave way to a border of lace, and then her bare thigh.



She grinned.



"Surprise number one."



I probed a bit further, and discovered that the stockings (hold-ups,

apparently) were her sole lower undergarments.	My fingers soon reached a

prickly nest of trimmed pubic hair and the hot flesh of her sex.



"Number two?" I asked.



"Mmm-hmm.  But there's another."



I explored for a few moments, not finding anything different.  Marianne just

looked at me slyly.



"You won't find it that way."



I played with her for a moment, getting her to lubricate enough to slip my

middle finger into her an inch or two.



She gasped softly, gritting her teeth.



"That's nice.  Don't stop doing that.  But you're still looking in the wrong

place.	You're close, though."



"Now I'm really intrigued."



She took my wrist in her hand, holding me in place.



"You'll have to wait.  Keep doing that."



I worked my finger into her as I drove home, removing it only when I had to

shift gears.  Marianne stretched herself back into the seat as I played with

her, getting wetter and hotter.  She liked me to keep a finger inside her and

rub my palm against her clit, so that was what I did for a few minutes.  Her

eyes were closed and her breath came hot and heavy in the close confines of

her car.  Her hand remained tight on my wrist, squeezing it rhythmically.  I

sped my movements when she began to whimper and twist slowly in her seat. 

Finally her hand clamped tightly on my arm, and she shuddered in orgasm.



I kept my finger inside her after she came, slowly probing into her tight

wetness.  She purred but remained still until we reached my house.



She hopped out of the car, backing up towards the door with her hands clasped

behind her back.



"Are you dying of anticipation now?"



"Close."



She opened the door and continued up the stairs.



"I really hope you like this."



"Let's see it, whatever it is."



When she reached the bedroom, she stopped me.



"Wait.	Don't look.  Let me get these off.  They're about the least sexy

things in the world."



She made me turn away, but I saw her reach into her dress and remove the

stick-ons she had apparently been wearing on her breasts.  She tossed them

behind her, and her big tits now bounced unrestrained under the fabric.  She

smiled at me.



"Okay.  You can see it now."



I slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders, and it slid down her

body to the floor.  As it slipped off, her left hand came up and covered

something at her hip, which momentarily distracted me from her delicious

form, naked except for the ivory stockings.



She paused for a moment in apprehension, then moved the hand away, revealing

her last surprise.



Just below her bikini line, on the left side, was a fresh tattoo of a little

ginger kitten.	It could only have been a day or two old--probably done on

her birthday, I thought, since that was the soonest she could have done it on

her own--and the word "Meow" rose from its grinning face.



"Do you like it?"



I dropped down to examine it.  I was touched, more than I would have thought

before I saw it.



"It's about the sweetest, sexiest thing I've ever seen."



She beamed at me, eyes growing moist.



"Because I'm your kitten."



I rose from my squat and took her in my arms.



"Yes, you are."



She pressed herself against me, and I kissed her for a few moments.



"Has anyone else seen it?"



"Ashley and Giselle went with me on Wednesday when I had it done.  I showed

it to Hayley last night.  That's it."



"What did she think of it?"



"What do you think?  She wants to get one herself now."



"Which I guess she can't t do."



"No.  And I'd kill her if she did.  You belong to me, even if I'm letting her

borrow you sometimes."



I picked her up and carried her to the bed.  I laid her on the mattress and

stripped rapidly out of my clothes.  Marianne lay on her back watching me and

smiling.  I crawled up between her stockinged thighs to look at the kitten

again.	The artist had somehow gotten a mischievous expression on its face,

even though it was scarcely an inch high.  Like the Cat who ate the Canary, I

thought--not to mention eating a few other things.



I bent to her pretty blonde twat and began licking her gently.	She was still

wet from my attentions in the car, and I soon had her moaning and writhing on

the bed.  She put her thighs on my shoulders and humped herself at my mouth. 

I kept looking at the kitten, thinking how damned sexy that thing was, a

notice posted just above her sex that it--and the rest of her--belonged to

me.  A kitten and her pussy.  Meow, meow, meow.



I ate her like my life depended on it.



She came in a rush, shrieking and almost throwing herself from the bed.  I

gave her no mercy, holding her tight cheerleading butt to my mouth.  Her

hands clawed at my head, seeking some respite, but they were soon gripping my

hair and holding me in place.  Her second orgasm heaved from her body like an

epileptic seizure, and her feet drummed on my back so hard they sent

momentary spasms of pain down my spine.



She came a third time after I had been eating her furiously for almost five

minutes.  Now she finally forced me from between her thighs, gasping for

breath, still twitching and shuddering.  Her hands remained tight claws on my

shoulders, holding me off.  Slowly, she relaxed and melted back into the bed.

 I crawled up beside her and took her in my arms.



"I love you, kitten."



She could manage only a weak moan, but she moved softy against me.  I let her

rest for a few minutes before rolling her on her back again.  When I crawled

between her thighs, she laughed quietly.



"You're not letting me do anything for you."



"It's your birthday.  Be happy."



I slid forward into her effortlessly, as wet and ready as she was.  She lay

on her back and let me make love to her, moving smoothly with my thrusts.  I

worked myself against her in the ways I knew she liked, keeping my cock

deeply inside her.  She gasped as I bottomed out, hugging me tightly.



"I love you.  I love you."



I bent myself down and took a nipple in my mouth, sucking it hard as I

continued to fuck her.	When I had one nipple stiff and wet, I moved to the

other.	Marianne held me tightly, moaning and whimpering at what I was doing

to her.  Her legs were wrapped closely around mine, and the smooth fabric of

her stockings slid against me as we thrust at each other.  Her hands moved

rapidly over my back and buttocks, squeezing and pinching as if they had

minds of their own.  I looked down at her, watching the flush of impending

orgasm spreading over her chest.  Her eyes had lost their focus in her fog of

arousal, and they rolled dizzily around.  A low shudder began in her abdomen,

spreading upward, across her chest, and her back slowly arched and her teeth

clenched, eyes tightly shut and head rolled back into the pillow as a long

feline whine escaped her throat.  Then her hips began hammering up at mine,

and I watched as this seizure, something too profound and fundamental to be

called an orgasm, coursed through her body.  It peaked, she let out an

agonized cry through her teeth, and then fainted dead away.



That had never happened to me before, and for a moment I was a little

worried.  Then her eyes slowly as she panted for breath.



"Whoa.  Wow.  Shit."



She hugged me, and I kissed the sweat from her brow.



"What did you just do?"



"I'm not sure.  But I gather you liked it."



She whimpered, kissing my neck.



"Just come.  Come in me.  I can't take any more of this."



I moved in her slowly, and about ten seconds of deliberate thrusts were

enough to get me off.  Marianne held me close, doing her best to help.



I stayed inside her until I was completely limp and slipped out on my own. 

Marianne refused to release me, holding tight on my neck as I rolled off.  I

drifted off to sleep beside her, knowing it wasn't the wisest thing to do,

but no longer much caring.



* * *










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