Sorting Comics

Copyright: Felix Phile - January 2001

I've hit kind of a dry patch in my story writing, so I decided to relate a completely true event from my past. This happened long enough ago that I'm kind of hazy on some details. I won't try to make up things like dialogue as it would be pure guess-work, so please just enjoy this brief tale for what it is. Nothing has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

As always, I would be grateful if you send me your opinion of this story, good or bad. I will keep your name and address completely private, you will not be spammed, enrolled in a cult, sent pizza, invited to join in a 100% guaranteed investment opportunity of a lifetime, or otherwise harassed. You will be subjected to a personal reply from me unless you request otherwise. If you are still concerned, created an E-mail account at Hotmail for one-time use and send it from there.

If this story interests you in my writing, then please check out my website, generously provided by the nifty people at ASSTR.

'Felix'
felixphile@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~FelixPhile

~

It was summer vacation and I was eighteen. I was living in a fairly large house with just my mother -- my parents had seperated a number of years earlier and by this time all my sibs had moved out to university or were sharing a house with friends. This meant that I had the place pretty much to myself and it was a popular place for my friends to spend time. The house would be sold not long after these events occurred, when I too moved out.

On this particular day my mother was soon going out somewhere and was going to be gone for the day. For some reason - boredom most likely - I decided to sort my comic book collection. I wasn't a collector, I just had a lot of comics that I'd acquired over the years. I'd been buying them since I was ten or twelve and had several hundred of them stored in a wooden chest, my old toybox to be specific.

So there I was - surrounded by piles of comics lying all over the floor - as I pulled them out of the chest and sorted  them. I heard someone calling my name and looked up to see my friend Leslie coming up the stairs. My mother had let her in and told her I was upstairs.

Leslie had been a friend of mine for a few years, probably three or four. She was about a year younger than me and went to a different school, but we hung around in the same crowd. She'd been going out with another friend of mine but when they split up they both remained my friends.

Leslie and I had become close enough that she had started confiding some of her personal life to me. One time I was walking her home after a party we'd both been to when she was told me about some trouble with boys. She was explaining some point and decided to use me as a hypothetical boyfriend, but she qualified it by saying, "Of course, you could never be my boyfriend."

I asked her why, purely hypothetically of course, and she explained that we were "friends". I had no particular intentions towards her, but I hated the way I got categorized as "nice/friend" instead of "cute/eligible". Being a guy, I didn't make these distinctions, I just worried about "does she or doesn't she?" I knew Leslie did, because she told me some story about being at a party and running into the guy who taken her virginity.

Leslie was pretty, but not eye-catching. She was five-foot-six with straight, blond hair that didn't reach her shoulders. She had a slim figure with small breasts and long legs. At the time she wore large glasses that covered a lot of her face. That day she was wearing cut-off shorts and a blouse. I remember this because it became significant later.

She asked what I was doing and I explained that I'd decided to sort my comics. She sat down and started to help. I remember that I had to explain some of the subtleties to her, how Superman might be in both Action and Superman comics, but they had to go in different piles. 

We worked on sorting for a while, until everything was in the right pile and ordered by date. Then we stacked the groups neatly back into the chest. I don't remember what became of those stacks, probably thrown away when I moved out. I sometimes wonder what they would have been worth to collectors today. Some of those comics had cover prices of ten or twelve cents, imagine the increase!

I don't remember the exact sequence of events that happened immediately after putting the comics away, but somehow we got into a tickle fight. This was kind of fun in itself, but it got more interesting when Leslie ended up pinned face-down over my lap as I sat on the bed. I was tickling her waist as she didn't fight too hard to get away. Then I started tickling the backs of her thighs.

I worked my way up her legs towards the edge of her cut-off shorts, wondering at what point she'd decide to stop things. To my surprise, instead of suddenly twisting out of my grip, she just got quieter. We went from fairly vigourous struggles to near stillness as my tickles turned to light stroking with my fingertips. Leslie's legs were parted and the crotch of her shorts was narrow enough that I could see some of her panty-crotch.

Still expecting her to stop me at any time, I worked my fingertips onto the soft inner-thigh immediately beside her crotch. The only reaction from Leslie was complete motionlessness apart from her breathing. I progressed to brushing my fingers up and down the strip of her panties that was exposed by her shorts, still in the guise of tickling.

This went on for a bit, but I was unsure of how to proceed; especially as Leslie had once told me that I was in the "friend" category. Eventually I stopped and flopped back onto the bed, expecting it to end there. I hadn't reckoned with the amount of stimulation that Leslie had received; she crawled over me so that she was kneeling over me and bent her head down for a kiss.

That kiss soon involved wrestling tongues and the swapping of spit. I'm not sure who opened Leslie's blouse but it came off as well as her totally unneccesary bra. I said earlier that she had small tits, but that's never been a problem for me. I can still see them in my mind just as they were when she leaned over me - perfect cones tipped with tiny pink nipples. I sucked on one then the other as I rubbed her ass and crotch through her shorts; Leslie in turn rubbing me through my shorts.

Again I'm a little hazy on the details, but pretty soon our clothes were off. I think I had Leslie kneel over my face while I licked her pussy. However we did it, I remember the close-up view of her light brown pubic triangle as I ate her.

I can also recall the magnificent blowjob she gave me - she's the only one who ever took my balls right into her mouth. It's not likely I'll ever forget that. She had a wonderful talent for her tender years, I'd loved to find out how time has matured it. If this wasn't likely to be a one-time thing, I might have let her finish, but as it was, I wanted to get into her lovely pussy.

Eventually I moved her away from my cock and we fucked. I know that's not much of a description, but I don't recall the details. I'm sure it was great, she was certainly an active participant. My earlier girlfriend and I had been having sex, but she tended to let me do all the work. She loved getting head but wouldn't give it, Leslie was certainly a change of pace.

We finished up, all sweaty from the heat and the activity. I offered her a shower but she said she had to leave. Leslie told me that it was just a one time thing and we were just going to be friends again, but "special friends".

It turned out that she was wrong about that too. That fall, I went away for a while to do some travelling, but when I came back for Christmas we got together again. We managed to fuck three times that week, one time leaving a wet spot the size of a dinner plate on my dad's spare bed. Everytime I thought we were done and try to pull out she'd give my cock a squeeze with her pussy and I'd have to slide right back in.

I left again right after Christmas and didn't see her for several months. We wrote regularly, but by the time I got back she had a boyfriend and I was off to university. I saw her one more time a couple of years later when we both happened to be on the same bus - she was looking pretty good and I was covered in potato chip crumbs from the snack I was eating - ain't that always the way. She'd started wearing contacts and had her hair done up nicely. We made small talk until her stop.

I still have one of her school photos that she gave me that summer tucked away in a drawer. But it's just with a bunch of other photos from back then, and I haven't looked at them in years.