Fate is a blind
and fickle force that, often as not, rips through our lives like a
tornado rips through a Kansas town. It leaves immense change in its
path, yet, only feet or yards away from its primary focus, nothing is
touched and life goes on as before.
While none of
the kids involved in this story were superstisious, George Kennedy, and
his little sister Amy were in the path of fate on Friday night, the
thirteenth of July. The same twist of fate would also directly affect
Samantha Rollins, and her little brother Phillip.
And, though no
one knew it on that fateful night, other people's lives would also be
changed, some more, some less by what Fate dealt the kids that Friday,
the Thirteenth.
It all started
when George, who had been dating Samantha for about six months, began
negotiating with her just when it was that he was going to be able to
slide his aching, ready-to-blow penis into what he believed would be
her warm, wet, receptive pussy. He was convinced that, if they truly
loved each other (and they said it all the time, so it must be true,
right?) then it was time to move up from the hot and heavy petting they
indulged in quite frequently.
True, he spurted quite regularly as her hand stroked him, but he wanted to squirt in her pussy, instead of in her hand.
Sam, for her
part, wasn't so sure about that. She wasn't on the pill, and she had
actually read the literature they passed out in sex-ed that explained
very carefully how NONE of the common methods of birth control were a
hundred percent effective.
Now, she loved
babies. She loved to hold them, and play with them, and even loved to
change their diapers. She loved to play peek-a-boo, and count their
fingers and toes. She loved to talk to them and sing to them and pat
their little backs to get them to burp.
But she didn't
want to have one swelling her belly. Not yet anyway. Still, feeling
George's fingers slipping in and out of her wet pussy just about drove
her crazy, especially since he hadn't quite figured out how to bring
her off and she was too embarrassed about it to tell him what he was
doing wrong.
Phyllis, Sam's
mother, who had gotten pregnant with Sam when she was only seventeen
herself, recognized the signs of imminent sexual activity between the
horny couple but, being Catholic, she couldn't, or wouldn't, provide
any birth control. The answer then, was to ensure that nothing COULD
happen on their dates. She decided to have a conference with Margaret,
George's mother, who also noticed the crusty evidence of looming
problems when she washed her son's underwear. Fate began to
build up a head of steam when the two women decided that not only
should George and Sam be limited to double dating if they were going to
be away from adult 'supervision', but the other couple should be
comprised of their siblings.
After all, what could they do while their younger brother and sister were there to see?
Phillip and Amy
both thought the idea was the stupidest thing they'd ever heard of.
Both were fifteen and neither was interested in being told not only
where they would go on a Friday night, but even who they would go there
with.
They were
vaguely acquainted with each other from school, but were in different
social groups, and this only served to make them even less interested
in taking part in what they both saw, for all intents and purposes, as
a blind date.
George and Sam
didn't like it either, but they didn't want to have to stay home, where
they couldn't do ANYTHING without an adult peeking in on them every
five minutes.
So it was that
the four of them ended up on their way to the drive-in out by the
county land fill, in the four year old station wagon that George's dad
had kept around for the kids to learn to drive.
He'd assumed that such an uncool car would make them want not to drive it very much.
Fate lifted its grizzled head and sniffed. The odor of teenage hormones was on the air, and fate grinned. It loved that smell.
When they got to
the drive-in George went to the back row and pulled in backwards, with
the rear of the car facing the big screen. Philip and Amy, who had been
sitting as far apart as possible in the back seat, looked at each other
and then at the driver, not understanding what was happening. They
learned as soon as George turned around and brusquely said "Get out for
a minute."
Ralph Kennedy,
owner of the station wagon holding his son and daughter, and their
respective dates, had completely forgotten that the back seat of the
wagon could be folded down and that, with a few blankets, the uncool
car could be made into an Oh-so-cool bed.
When George
finished making the back of the wagon into a big bed, all four teens
could see that if they all lay down side by side they could watch the
movie out of the open back of the car.
Or... whatever.
It was also
plain that it would be crowded with all four of them in there.
Depending on how you felt it could also be called "cozy".
Amy said defiantly "I'm not lying down in there!"
Phillip was stung. Even though Amy wasn't his dream girl, she didn't have to make it sound like he had a disease or something.
"Me either!" he said forcefully.
Sam smiled.
"Well, then, that leaves more room for us." She turned and kissed her
boyfriend, a long, hot kiss. Then she looked at her brother. "Be back
when the movie's over, and don't let anything happen to her." she
ordered.
Now it was Amy who was incensed. "I don't need him! I can take care of myself quite nicely." She stuck her nose in the air.
George stared at his sister. "Don't screw this up for us, Amy. You do and I'll make your life miserable."
Amy stomped her foot, turned and stalked off into the darkness.
Phillip, an odd look on his face stared after her, then jerked and hurried to catch up.
Before they were
out of sight, George and Samantha dove into the back of the wagon.
Before Phillip caught up with Amy George had his hand in Sam's shirt,
her bra pushed up, and was fondling her sensitive naked breasts as he
kissed her again. He rolled toward her, pushing his stiff penis against
her leg through the cloth of his jeans.
Sam moaned. What he was doing felt so good. She knew she should slow him down but... she didn't want to.
Phillip caught
up with Amy just as she stepped onto the sandy gravel of what was
laughingly called the playground. There were some big steel pipe A
frames, with boards suspended on chains hanging from them. There were
four teeter-totters, one of which had the seat broken off on one end.
Then there was the obligatory merry-go-round, a flat steel platform,
made of thick sheet metal with a diamond pattern stamped in it for
grip, with U shaped pipes welded on in various places so you had
something to hold on to when it spun. There were two picnic tables.
They were full of youngish adults drinking beer and yelling out a
running commentary on the movie, which was about sentient trees that
tore the heads off of teenagers unwary enough to enter the forest, and
then stuffed those heads into knot holes, where they were 'assimilated'.
Amy sighed.
There were THREE movies tonight. It was "Friday Fright Night" and,
besides the carnivorous trees, there would be invisible invaders from
the Moon later on, followed by Son of Grandfather of Werewolf or
something like that.
She wanted to scream. She had a brand new Nancy Drew book and she had planned on reading it tonight.
Not that she'd
admit she still read Nancy Drew. But the stories were so much fun to
read, and then daydream about being there... doing the things Nancy and
her friends did... going the places she went.
Now she had to
be here with that boy... the one who hung around with all those kids
who did all the acting in the school plays, and sang in all the
concerts. How did you talk to a boy who wore makeup sometimes? He had
to be strange.
On impulse she
turned, looking for him. She jumped as she realized he was only a foot
or so away from her... just standing there... looking at her. He'd
followed her all the way to the front of the drive-in and hadn't said a
single word. Yes, he had to be strange.
Phillip watched
Amy as she stomped through the huge parking lot that was the drive-in
theater. She weaved between cars, never looking left or right, never
peeking in the cars to see what people were doing, or what they looked
like. Had he not been following her he would have done that. People
were interesting, and he'd heard stories about some of the things
people did while they were at the drive-in.
He found himself
watching Amy's hips. They went sort of up and down, one up and the
other down, and then vice versa. Her shorts were white, so he could see
them well, and they were tight, full to bursting with her buttocks. He
hadn't thought she'd wear shorts. She hung with the popular girls at
school, who wore angora sweaters, and poodle skirts and saddle oxfords
on their feet. Her shorts were sexy, and he hadn't thought she'd wear
something like that in public. Idly he wondered what she'd look like in
one of those new swimsuits some girls were wearing... the ones that
looked like a bra and panties to him. She would be the kind of girl who
went to sock hops, and danced all the new dances... things called 'The
Hoochy Coo' and 'The Jerk'... things he had no idea how to do. He could
dance, but only in a classical sense, waltzes and the kind of dance
that one did in musicals. The last school play had been "The King And
I" and he had danced with one of the girls in that play, pressed
against her, whirling and whirling. He wondered how Amy would feel
pressed against him like that.
Quite suddenly she whirled and looked startled as she stared at him in the dim light reflected by the big screen.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, stepping back a step.
He looked around. She was talking to him. It was the first thing she'd said to him the whole night.
"Well, I'm
standing around on the playground of the Big Chief drive-in theater,
while my sister and your brother are probably necking in the back of
that car."
It was such an obvious thing to say that she was disarmed a little. She leaned forward, trying to see where his eyes were.
"You were standing awfully close to me," she said, with a little less heat.
"Oh" he said,
putting his hands in his pockets. "I guess I was just standing. I
didn't know you had rules about how close somebody can stand."
He was already
sorry the conversation had started. But he was stuck with her. A
picture popped into his mind of the two of them, years later, grown as
old as his parents, still squabbling, still tagging along with their
older siblings. It seemed funny to him for some reason and he laughed
out loud.
Amy had turned away from him, but now she whirled back around.
"What?" she said
in a voice he couldn't quite classify. It didn't sound angry, or
embarrassed. But it wasn't just a simple question either. She almost
sounded worried. "What are you laughing at?" she said when he didn't
answer her first question. Now she sounded impatient.
"Nothing" he said. That usually worked with his parents.
It didn't with
her. "That's not true!" she barked. "You were laughing. You were
laughing at ME weren't you!" It wasn't a question. She was getting up a
head of steam now, and he could tell she was going to go on for a while
if she had her way. She wanted to be pissed off, and she was going to
use any excuse to fuel that desire.
"STOP!" he
barked back. He said it loudly enough that it shocked her into silence.
She was breathing fast, and her white blouse rose and fell in the
twilight of the screen reflection. He liked looking at her chest...
rising and falling. "Look, I know you don't want to be here with me. I
don't want to be here with you either. But we ARE here, and we have to
STAY here, so the least we can do is try not to be pissed off at each
other all night, OK?"
Amy's eyes had gotten more easy to see in the dark as she showed more and more white.
"You don't want to be here with me?" she said. �
It was in a
voice that every male recognizes by the time he's ten years old. It's
that voice that means you have offended the girl, and she can't believe
it, and she's trying to get you to admit it, so she can scream at you.
He tried to cut
that off. "Come on Amy, are you telling me you really looked forward to
being on this "date" with me tonight? Am I your 'type' Amy?" He was
trying to turn it back on her.
"Of course not," she sniffed. "but that doesn't explain why you wouldn't want to go out with me."
Phillip sighed. Maybe he should think about trying to be homosexual. Girls were just too much trouble.
"That statement
is a perfect example of why I might want to take out a different type
of girl. It's fine for you to think I'm a dork or something, and below
your standards, but if somebody thinks that way about YOU it suddenly
isn't OK anymore. Don't you see the irony in that?"
Amy was puzzled.
Who was this strange boy? He didn't treat her like she was a girl. All
the boys treated her like she was a girl. They looked at her breasts,
and tried to look up her skirt, and swaggered around trying to smoke
cigarettes and impress... her.
Except this one didn't.
She had known he
would be different, but this was SO different she didn't know how to
act. She'd tried getting him to apologize, and 'owe' her, but that
hadn't worked. Then he turned around and said something that made all
too much sense and pricked her conscience.
"I didn't say you were a dork," she said defensively.
"You didn't have to. We all know what you popular kids think of us."
"That's not fair!" she stomped her foot again. "What's wrong with wanting to be popular, and have fun?"
"Nothing," he said. "But do you have to hurt people's feelings to have fun?"
Amy was feeling
less and less comfortable. He was supposed to be apologizing to HER,
not the other way around. She took a breath to tell him that when, from
a car about ten feet away they heard: "OHHHH JOHNNY, THAT FEELS SOOO
GOOOOD!"
Both of their
heads swiveled to see a pair of white almost glowing buttocks, in the
back seat, rising and falling as some boy obviously had sex with the
girl who was 'soooo' happy.
"That's disgusting" snorted Amy.
"It's what your brother and my sister are probably doing back there." he hooked his thumb toward the rear of the drive-in.
"Why do boys want to do that so much?" she asked. Her voice indicated she really didn't understand why.
Phillip shrugged. "I guess it feels good or something."
She turned on him again. "So you've never done it?"
"Nope" he said
and saw her mouth fall open. "Have you?" He assumed he'd misread her
confusion, and that she was trying to needle him.
"Of course not!" she yipped. "I'm a good girl."
"So why did you look so shocked when I said no?" he asked.
"I've never
heard a single boy ever admit that he's a virgin," she said. She
thought about that. She was suddenly interested in Phillip for some
reason. He was so different than the boys she hung around with.
"Well, I don't
know a single guy whose telling the truth when he claims he HAS had
sex" he said back. "With the possible exception of your brother." he
added, thinking about what was probably going on in the back of the
station wagon.
"You want to swing on the swings?" she asked suddenly.
It threw him off. "Sure" he answered.
They went over
to the big steel A frame that had swings made of what looked like
ancient slabs of wood hooked to thick chains. They sat side by side and
began kicking their feet, swinging ever higher.
And as they swung they talked.
Fate grinned,
his yellow teeth glinting in the darkness of another dimension. He
rubbed his wrinkled hands together, almost humming to himself.
In the back of
the station wagon Sam was panting with passion. George's hand was in
her pants, and his finger was in her pussy, sawing in and out,
titillating her teen clit. She was torn between knowing she should make
him stop, and knowing she was so close to an orgasm that she could
almost taste it.
Lust won out.
She spread her legs and arched her hips up off the blanket, trying to give him just a little more room to work.
Partially from
boredom but partially because there was the spark of interest between
them, Phillip and Amy talked about everything... and nothing. In the
way of youth who could switch from one subject to another for no
apparent reason, their conversation got easier and less forced as the
movies played out. Sometimes they commented on some part of the movie
that was supposed to be scary, but was actually funny because of the
poor makeup, or some monster that looked like the toy it was, in a
miniature set. They talked about vacations they'd been on, places
they'd been and books they'd read.
They sat on the
swings the whole time, sometimes moving, sometimes not, sometimes
winding them up and then letting go to whirl in the dark like they had
done as children.
She was intrigued with this strange boy she'd thought she knew all about, but who was different, even interesting.
Phillip, for his
part, kept seeing that part of her that was selfish, used to her own
way, and dismissive of other people's needs. But under that was a girl
who had the same fears and hopes that he did.
"Why are you in all those musicals?" she asked at one point.
"They're fun." he answered.
"How can they be
fun? Don't you have to memorize all those lines, and learn all those
songs? And what about the kids who can't sing, but sing anyway? I think
it would be a drag."
"Well, it's not.
It's kind of like getting to live out a fantasy sometimes. Like if
you're a guy like me, you don't date, or even know any girls... well at
least not pretty ones like you... but in a play or a musical you get to
dance with them, and hold them and even kiss them sometimes. And you
get to say things to them that you'd never say otherwise." He felt odd
admitting that his own life was so bland that pretending to be someone
else was exciting.
"Like what?" she asked.
Phillip thought back to some lines from a play he'd been in. He used Amy's name instead of the character it was.
"Amy, my love,
my heart is bursting. For you are forbidden to me by the station into
which I was born, yet I love you more than life itself. I cannot sleep.
I cannot eat. I cannot think about the shoes I'm supposed to be making.
I grow ever closer to madness, thinking only of your sweet kiss, and
the thought of your heaving bosom. Amy... Oh Amy... I shall surely die
without your love."
He had delivered
the line in character, and he had practiced the line literally hundreds
of times, getting the inflection just right. It wasn't hard to put a
lot of emotion into it. In the play, the girl he had been speaking to
was a fantasy of his as well... in the dark, at night, when he was in
his bed.
Amy felt
something move in her stomach. No one had ever talked to her like
that... said things that romantic. She realized she was holding her
breath, and let it out in a whoosh.
"Wow" she said.
Phillip, having
no idea how she had been affected, said "Yeah. I mean when in the world
would a guy ever get to say something like that to a girl and then get
kissed afterward? It's just fun."
Amy was still staring at him. "Yeah, I guess so," she said softly.
Back in the
station wagon, George had pushed his jeans down below his balls, so Sam
could get to his rampant prick. She was stroking it with jerky
movements as he fingered her. He kept trying to push her pants down
with his wrist, but she consistently pulled them back up, all the while
keeping her legs spread for him so he could play with her wet twat.
"Ohhh baby I want you so much" he groaned. "Can't we do it just a little bit?"
Sam, knowing
that if she let him get her pants off, she would spread her legs even
wider, and that he'd get between them, and that he'd put that big hard
penis of his inside her, tossed her head from side to side.
"Nooooo Georgie, honey, I want to, but you KNOW we can't do that. I don't want to get pregnant honey."
"But this is driving me CRAZY!" he whined.
Sam, still
unable to get that orgasm under her belt, so to speak, knew that this
was a critical time. "How bout if I... kissed it or something."
He had tried to
get her to give him a blow job before, and she had recoiled. But that
had been months ago. He jumped at the chance now.
"Oh YEAH, that would be sooo good."
They
disentangled themselves as he lay back and she got to her hands and
knees. She moved her face downward to the phallus she had such a tight
hold on. Her mind was awhirl. Could she really do this? Take him in her
mouth?
The last movie
was coming to its inevitable bloody end. Phillip and Amy knew it, even
though they had been paying more attention to each other than to the
movie.
"We'd better head back" said Phillip.
"Yeah, I guess so" responded Amy.
This time they
walked side by side, not close, exactly, but not keeping their distance
either. Their feet crunched on gravel as they maintained an easy
silence. The animosity of their forced situation had faded, and they
had each discovered something in the other they hadn't expected to.
Both were... intrigued.
Amy spoke about what they'd have to face sooner or later. "I guess we'll probably have to do this again, huh?"
Phillip, earlier
in the evening, would have taken that as a slam, but not now. "Yeah,
they're going to want to go out more... probably every week."
Amy looked
across at her 'date' "Well, I suppose it wasn't all THAT bad." She
grinned in the dark. "Hey, you want to sneak up on them and scare them?"
"Oh yeah" chuckled Phillip.
The two made
their plans. They decided to split up and get around to the front of
the car, so they could sneak along opposite sides of the car. Then
they'd both pop into view around the open back and yell "SURPRISE".
In truth, they
both assumed that whatever 'activities' had gone on in the car during
their absence would be over by now, and that their siblings would
either be watching the movie, or asleep. It took them about five
minutes to get to the front of the car and begin their quiet trip along
the sides.
They were both unaccountably excited for some reason.
Samantha had
learned something very valuable this night. She had learned what only
three or four percent of all women who engage in oral sex discover, and
that was that the inside of her throat, way in the back, was an
erogenous zone.
She didn't know
it was rare, nor would she have cared. All she knew was that when she
finally got up the courage to slide her mouth down over her boyfriend's
stiff rod, and he bucked up in reflex, and the tip of his cock slammed
into the back of her throat, she felt a thrill that was just as good as
the thrills she felt when he rubbed her clitty. She pressed her two
hands down, one on his pubic mound, and the other on one thigh and held
him down with her weight. Then she began to masturbate that spot in her
throat with his leaking prick.
She could
control this pleasure, and didn't have to depend on him to touch her in
the right place, with the right pressure. It created a LOT of saliva,
some of which drooled down onto his balls, but every so often she
pulled off, instinctively sucking the knob as she did, and swallowed
the collection of saliva and the precum that was steadily leaking from
his cock.
It was both
delicious and immensely satisfying to her. He squirmed and moaned and
whined and, all the while she was able to bring him to the edge and
then let him back down. He stayed hard for half an hour while she
lovingly sucked and used him to tickle the back of her throat. The film
"Deep Throat" hadn't come out yet, but Samantha figured out how to do
that anyway, and soon her lips were mashed into the sloppy nest that
was his pubic hair.
At last she felt
that orgasm coming, and this time she knew she would be able to get
there. She shoved her mouth almost all the way down and made tiny up
and down movements as she massaged that wonderful spot in the back of
her throat. Her orgasm rushed down on her and she welcomed it with
open... throat.
George was
almost comatose with pleasure. He'd had a thirty minute blow job
already and, though he'd been close several times, the fact that he
hadn't gotten to cum yet didn't bother him. He'd been hard for three or
four hours now, and he knew that, when he finally cut loose, he'd shoot
a record amount. And there was every indication that Sam might leave
his prick in her mouth when it went off.
Sam started
making funny noises and changed her tempo so that she was making short
little jerks. That tickled his knob and his orgasm rushed down on him.
He welcomed it with open... piss slit.
George should have warned Sam. Almost anybody would agree with that. But he didn't.
His cock swelled
and he released a shot of sperm-rich semen that would have shot four
feet in the air if his prick had been in the air, instead of firmly
embedded in Sam's throat.
At that precise
instant, two heads appeared at the back of the Station Wagon and each
one screamed 'SURPRISE!" at the top of their lungs. Sam felt her
throat become completely filled with fluid. She had been breathing in
through her nose when it happened, and she choked. If George hadn't
grabbed her head and pushed it down even further, she could probably
had pulled off and just hacked a couple of times.
In fact, the two
younger kids screaming "SURPRISE!" made him let go of her head, which
is probably what kept her from choking to death on his prodigious
spend, which he had added to by virtue of having shot two or three more
times already.
Sam was able to
raise her head off the thing that was choking her and filling her
throat with thick hot spunk. Her first breath dragged some of that
spunk down the wrong hole and when she coughed, it went the route of
least resistance, which, in this case, was through her nose.
Amy and Phillip
froze, staring wide eyed at the scene before them. George was lying on
his back, legs spread slightly, his pants down around his thighs.
Samantha's mouth was covering George's penis in what was undeniably a
blow job. Sam's head jerked up off his still squirting prick and she
looked, also wide eyed, at the source of the screams. Her mouth was
open and running dribbles of white sperm as she tried to breathe. Twin
streams of the same thick white fluid ran out her nose, adding to the
mess that was now dripping on George's jeans.
George's prick
spat two more globs of his sperm against the side of Sam's face,
getting in her hair and her ear and then spat two last shots right in
her face when she turned it back to see what had just happened to her
ear. She coughed mightily, hacking and spewing most of his load right
back onto his groin.
All in all, it
was a decidedly unhappy ending to what had been shaping up to be an
incident they would both fondly remember for the rest of their lives.
Of course the
fact was that they WOULD remember it for the rest of their lives. Maybe
not fondly, or not at first anyway. Maybe time would turn it into one
of those funny stories people like to tell at parties when they've had
WAY too much to drink.
"FUCK!" yelled George.
"HACK, COUGH COUGH, HACK, CHOKE, SPEW" went Samantha.
Amy and her date
just stared at the completion of the first sex act they had each seen.
They would remember this night for the rest of THEIR lives too. And
THEY would tell the story MUCH more often, and with much LESS to drink,
than the actual participants.
