*********************************************************
************************ WARNING ************************
*********************************************************
* The following text contains written descriptions of   *
* sexual acts between adults, children and adults with  *
* children.  If it is illegal for you to read acts of   *
* this nature, or if you are under age, please stop     *
* reading right now.                                    *
*                                                       *
* This story is a work of fiction.  Any similarities to *
* actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.*
*                                                       *
* (c) 2003-2005, Kenn Ghannon.  All rights reserved.    *
* Any republication or retransmission of this document, *
* severally or collectively, without the author's       *
* express written permission is prohibited.             *
*********************************************************

I spend time writing these stories to entertain.  If you like what I write, if you don't like what I write, or if you have some constructive criticisms please feel free to send these comments to kenn_ghannon@nospam.hotmail.com (removing the 'nospam' phrase as necessary).  Thank you



Tricks, Part 1/2 (mf teen first rom)

9th grade.  There are no other two words that will evoke such promise before you get there and such terror after.  I guess some people really do manage to turn it all around once they get into high school.  As soon as I walked through the doors on my first day, I knew I wasn't going to be one of them.

I had been - and, if I'm honest, still was - a nerd.  A perpetual wall flower with the social skills of a hermit crab.  It had started in second grade.  I was always small, smaller than any of the other kids, and always chubby.  I wasn't fat or obese - Tommy Solomon was really fat, so I had some basis for comparison - but I had more than my share of pounds on my short frame.

Kids can be mean and 2nd graders probably meaner than most.  Tommy and I were the outcasts of our grade.  No one would play with us, we were picked dead last for any games, and we were taunted and teased mercilessly.  We were even beaten up on more than one occasion by Paul Mathews - the largest kid in our class -- and his crowd.

Tommy got it worse than me but that was because he kept coming back for more.  He tried really hard to fit in but no one is going to give a big fat kid anything but grief.  I have to hand it to Tommy, though.  He kept right on trying through 5th grade when his parents moved to a different state.  I'm not sure if that was courage or stupidity but it was impressive.

I retreated into my shell.  I ran home every day to avoid Paul Mathews, stopped talking in class to anyone but the teacher and took my recesses in the library where I'd read anything I could.  I used these as substitutes for human contact - if I'm not around people, there's no chance of getting picked on or teased.  So, I built up walls to insulate myself from anyone and anything - and those walls were made of 6 inches of solid steel by the time I reached high school.

I guess it didn't help that I was pretty smart.  When you're in the library almost every day for lunch and have an ounce of determination and even a bit of brains you tended to learn a lot of different stuff.  By 4th grade I was wrecking every test curve there was and the labeling was complete.  I was now a chubby pariah brain - a typical nerd.

Still, the summer after 8th grade I held out some hope that high school would be different.  I'd had a really big growth spurt that summer and went from 5'2" to 6' in a single summer.  My cousin Mac - David McKenzie, probably my 2nd closest friend and confidant throughout my life as well as being something of my protector - was a big time football jock and he helped me start lifting weights in our garage.

I wasn't really dedicated to it, so I ended up with more of a lean - the growth spurt had taken care of my chubbiness -- toned look than the muscles Mac had, but I was happy with it.  For the first time I was actually feeling hopeful that high school would be different than the past 7 odd years had been.

If I thought about it at all, though, I probably would have seen the warning signs.  My brain hadn't gone on vacation, so I was still smart and still had my nose in a book most of the time.  Plus I had a body that I still hadn't "grown into" mentally, both in terms of size and muscles.  So, instead of a chubby pariah nerd I was now a gangly, awkward pariah nerd.

Nothing demonstrated it to me more than walking through those doors that first day.  Paul Mathews and his gang - David Mitchell, Tony Feliz and Mark Carmen - were standing just inside the doors.  They immediately latched onto me, Paul going so far as to put his arms around my shoulders.  It looked like he had had a bit of a growth spurt too.  He was now 6' 6" and wide as a door.

"Hey, Brain," my loathed nickname, a play on my first name of Brian, "We was just saying how worried we were that we wouldn't have anyone to 'have fun' with this year when you walked through the door.  Sign of God, man."

God may have been giving him a sign, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't God's foot that tripped me face first to the floor.  "Ooops!" Paul and his cronies just laughed and walked away.

Luckily, Western High was pretty big, so I didn't see that group much during the day.  Well, that's not exactly true.  I saw them...and when I did, I rushed in the opposite direction.

My day would have been completely destroyed if it hadn't been for my 2nd hour algebra and 5th hour world history classes.

SHE was in those classes.  I had never even seen her before but that didn't surprise me.  A lot of different middle schools poured into Western.

Samantha Kothari.  She was beautiful.  She stood maybe 5'3"/5'4" and had the most stunning black hair I'd ever seen cut to her shoulders in bangs.  Bright hazel eyes, a thin nose, full red lips and the cutest dimples in the world.  She was kind of on the thin side but she certainly had all the right curves in all the right places.  She wore a skirt and I could see that even her legs were perfect.

My throat went dry, my tongue swelled up, and my hands became cold and clammy.  My breath was short...when I remembered to breathe.  I think I forgot how at some point during the few seconds it took her to walk into the room and sit down in the back.  I was instantly "in love".

And did nothing about it except moon over her in a calf-eyed, puppy dog way for several weeks.

Over those weeks I noticed things, though.  She didn't talk much, but when she did it was in a low, throaty voice.  She never walked in with anyone and had her eyes constantly on the ground.  She usually clutched her books to her chest as she walked.  For some insane reason it looked almost like she were afraid of everyone.  I got the strange idea that she was huddling rather than just being shy.

I also noticed she wasn't doing too well in either of the classes we shared.  My algebra teacher, Mr. Mendez, had the talk with her first in middle October.  I wasn't trying to snoop but I heard every word.  She wasn't failing, but she was awful close.  Mr. M was trying hard to talk her into moving over into the pre-Algebra course but she was insistent on staying.  Very insistent.

I overheard Mrs. Weathers later that month having very nearly the same conversation with her with very nearly the same result.  Of course, in this case, there wasn't a more remedial history class she could take.

At home that night, I was daydreaming about walking up to Samantha and offering to tutor her...but I knew I'd never do it.  I was terrified of even talking to her.  Heck, I was terrified of talking to most people - male or female but especially female.

As it turned out, though, I didn't have to.

It happened the second week of November.  I was walking out of algebra, ever alert for the 'Paul Posse' when I felt the faintest of taps on my shoulder.  When I turned around, she was standing right behind me.

"Um."  She was looking at the ground, her eyes coming up to my face every so often.  Her books, as usual, were clutched firmly to her chest.  "You're Brian Katye, right?"

It was several tongue-twisting moments before I could stammer out my "Yes."  Even as I said it, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"Well...uh...you're really good at, you know, math and history, right?"  She still never looked directly at me but I eventually managed to mumble out another yes. "I...um...kinda need help in those classes.  I was...er...wondering if, you know, you might be able to help me out.  I mean, it's okay if you don't wanna, I just kind of needed some help..."

I think I said "Yes" before she actually finished with her question.

"Okay," and she smiled.  I swear it was like the sun shining through the clouds on a rainy day.  "We could, um, meet after school maybe?"

I walked the mile and a half to school every day, so that wouldn't be a problem.  "Okay.  I'm kind of a long walk away, do you want to...you know...meet at your house."

She was truly startled by that and her face grew almost ashen.  "NO!" she blurted, a look of fear washing across her face.  She gathered herself pretty quickly after that.  "I mean...no...I was thinking...you know...maybe the library."

"Okay.  I'll see you after 6th period, alright?"

"Okay," and she walked away, her eyes still on the ground.

I was a mess.  On one hand, my dream girl had finally spoken to me.  On the other, I couldn't shake the feeling that Samantha wasn't comfortable talking to me.  Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to truly think about things until my fourth period - lunch.  Now, I'm pretty smart but when it comes to reading girls I am the dumbest kid in the world.  Even I, though, could tell that something was wrong.  The fear on her face when I offered to tutor her at her house, the constant way she avoided everyone.  It wasn't natural.  She was one of the beautiful people in all but name.  She was gorgeous; there was absolutely no reason that she shouldn't have tons of friends all over the school.  I couldn't figure it out by myself.  I needed to talk to Evie.

Eve Glenn is my confidant and my best friend in the whole world.  We'd known each other almost since the day we were born.  She lived next door and our parents were the absolute best of friends so we naturally spent a lot of time together.

Even though she had gone to a private school until now, Evie knew everything there was to know about me; I confided to her about everything.  As a universal rule, I stuttered, stammered and blushed whenever I talked to a girl, but having known her so long I was comfortable enough that it never caused me any problems.  For instance, sometimes late at night, when our parents were sitting around playing cards or just hanging out, we'd lay out in my backyard and just look at the stars, talking about anything that came to mind.  We were that comfortable around one another.  Actually, to say she was my best friend is like saying the Pope was a little-bit Catholic.  She was more my sister than a friend.

Interestingly, my first kiss had come the previous summer and it had been with Evie.  We were just walking down the street, talking about nothing in particular when she turned to me and said, "Brian, will you kiss me?"

"What?" was my oh-so-clever response.

"I've been thinking about it.  I want to know what it's like before we hit high school and I'm afraid if I ask another boy, he'd expect something more.  Kissing you, though, is safe because you're like my big brother."  Evie had been born almost exactly two months after me, so our age difference wasn't much but she always played the big brother card when she was really trying to get me to do something.

A knot formed in my throat and my heart pounded in my chest.  Hey, Evie was like my little sister but she was really hot.  She had soft, red hair that hung to the middle of her back in curling waves.  Her flawless skin was pale but with all the requisite freckles and she had begun developing in regions of her body that definitely would be of interest to most boys - and I, a typical teenager with typical hormones, was not immune.  She might have had a pound or two around her tummy, but other than that she was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen.  Of course, I'd never in a million years thought of her in THAT way...but her question certainly forced those thoughts into my mind in a big hurry.

What could I say, though?  There was no way that I could turn her down without admitting to her that I was thinking THOSE thoughts...so, before I knew it, I had agreed to it.

Evie just smiled up at me - she was 5'8", just a bit shorter than me at the time - snaked her arms around my neck, pulled my head down as her body molded to mine and pressed our lips together.

Fireworks.  It was my first kiss and it was everything I could have ever asked it to be.   As good as it was, though, it got even better when her tongue parted my lips.  I have no concept of how long it lasted but I never wanted it to end.  The worst part, though, was that I had ALL of the expected reactions including a definite stirring in my groin.  Somewhere through the haze, I was worried she might have noticed it too.

"Thanks, Bri," she whispered when it was over.  "That was really great."

I could only look at her, grinning foolishly, not trusting myself to speak.  Her arms lingered momentarily around my neck and her eyes almost looked a question at me before the moment passed and she pulled away.  The added time it took her to disengage was probably a good thing since I'm pretty sure she was the only thing holding me up.

As we continued walking down the street, definite thoughts of an encore performance started pounding through my head.  Then I shook those thoughts out of my head.  This was Evie, my best friend.  She had trusted me NOT to want anything more because of our friendship.  There was no way I was going to go all puppy-dog over her and destroy that trust.

The walk home, though, was pretty quiet.

Evie ate lunch with me during 4th period every day, usually bringing several of her girlfriends along to engage in girl talk.  Today, though, I just asked her if we could get an out-of-the-way table and talk alone for a bit.  She looked at me a little funny for a second but agreed.  After telling her girlfriends, we found a little corner table and sat down.

"What's up, Bri?" she asked immediately.

"Well, there's this girl," I started.  I wasn't sure, but it seemed like she stiffened a little.  It was probably my imagination, though, because in the next minute she was just smiling at me.

"When ISN'T it about a girl?" she teased.  Neither Evie nor I had any experience with the opposite sex and we both knew it.  We had teased each other, however, about all of the people we wouldn't mind getting some experience with.

I just laughed at her.  "Okay, so my hormones ARE peeking their little heads out just a bit.  This has nothing to do with them."  She just cocked an eyebrow at me and waited, the silly grin never leaving her face.  "Okay, well not MUCH to do with them," I sighed.

She just giggled at me and I rolled my eyes back at her.

"It isn't really like that, though.  I'm worried about someone," I started.  Quickly, I told her everything about what had happened in the hall.  After, I told her what I had been observing about Samantha; the clutched books, eyes on the ground, avoidance to everyone.  Evie just sat there, looking at me intently.

She gave a soft sigh.  "You really like this girl, don't you?"

"Yea...I've kind of got a crush on her..."

"Well, for now you need to respect her boundaries, you know?  I mean, tutor her in the library and stuff, and just try to be her friend.  Maybe she'll open up to you.  And if that doesn't work, we'll figure something else out."

Evie, as usual, made a lot of sense.  So, that settled, we finished eating and started laughing with each other about school, the day, other kids...anything.  Evie was probably the only one who laughed with me instead of at me.  We could go for hours, just cracking each other up.  I was truly at my most comfortable - and, therefore, at my best - when I was around her.

I tutored Samantha every afternoon for a month...and she never opened up to me.  I didn't press her about her home life, but I did check her out.  I told myself I was just looking for bruises or any other sign that she might be having trouble at home but I won't lie and say that looking at her closely didn't have other fringe benefits.  I didn't find any signs of physical abuse, though.  I couldn't figure out what she was hiding.

It wasn't that she was dumb, either.  She was actually rather smart...she just seemed to have trouble concentrating on things.  I remember the first time, not too long after I started tutoring her, she seemed to just start staring at the wall while I was explaining an algebraic expression.  I didn't notice at first, but when I finished and looked at her expectantly for the answer, she didn't move - just kept staring at the wall.  I had to call her a few times before she looked at me.  When she did, I had to explain the whole thing all over to her.  She *DID* manage to get the answer right, though.

However, it kept happening with greater and greater frequency the longer I tutored her.  I started getting really, really upset about it.  Hey...if she wasn't going to make an effort I certainly didn't want to be there.  Well, I wanted to be there, but...

Two weeks before Christmas and right before mid-terms, my anger finally won out.  She started the 'space' routine while I was coaching her through a fairly important math problem.  When I realized it, I got pretty angry and decided I'd had enough.  I just closed my books and put all my stuff away.  She didn't even realize what I was doing until I stood up to leave.

"What's the matter, Brian?" she asked, a tremor of fear running through her voice.

"Look," I started, trying hard to reign in my anger.  "If you aren't even going to try, what am I doing here??"

"Wh..what??  I'm trying!  Honest!"

"Yea.  Most of the time," I spat out derisively.  "But every now and then you just stare off into space!  Look...I need to know...are you on drugs or something?"

"NO!"  She was angry and maybe deservedly so.  I was somewhat astonished, though.   I'd never seen her show much emotion at all beyond an occasional smile or giggle.  With some effort, she calmed herself.  A few seconds later and she just looked at me sheepishly.

"I guess I can see where you might get that," she whispered, her face a mask of contemplation.  "But I'm not...you have to believe me."

"What, then?" I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the courage to ask her the question that had nagged at me so long.  "Is there something wrong at home?  Are you being abused?"

"Wh...what??"  I saw the fear in her eyes and I knew that I had hit on something.  "No...I've...I just....I've got to go."  She gathered her stuff quickly, tears in her eyes and just ran out the door.  I tried calling to her, but she made no sign she even heard me.

She avoided looking at me in algebra the next day and I was worried.  Something was going on with her at home...but what?  And who should I tell?  And what if I were wrong??

I didn't pay much attention in class that day, my mind a whirling dervish of points and counter-points.  Should I tell a counselor at school what I suspected??  Go to the police???  Or should I try to confront her one more time??

As I was leaving class, she tapped me on the shoulder again.

"Brian, I'm sorry about yesterday," she began.  Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper and her eyes never left the ground.  "Will you meet me in the library after 6th?  Please??"

"Samantha, look.  I'm worried about you.  If you're in trouble, you need to go to a counselor or the principle or something..."

"Really?" Her eyes finally came up to my face and the hint of a smile played around the edges of her lips.  "You're worried?"  I could see some kind of struggle going on inside of her.  Finally, she seemed to come to a decision.  "Instead of at the library, could you meet me at the front doors?"

"Sure...but why?"

"I'll explain it then."  She smiled at me a full, beautiful smile that lit up the hallway.  Then she turned and walked away.

I waited for her at the front doors after 6th period.  I was a little worried the Paul Posse would see me but I guess I was lucky.  Or maybe they'd just skipped 6th period.

Samantha smiled at me gratefully when she saw came out.  "Will you...um...walk with me?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sure...where are we going?"

"That depends, kind of," she said hesitantly.  She looked lost in thought as we walked, as if she were trying to work something out in her head.  I didn't want to disturb her, so I just walked next to her in silence.  Finally, she turned to me again.  "Look, you have to promise me something.  You have to promise me that you'll never tell anyone...not ANYONE...anything about what you see today.  Promise?"

"Samantha, you're putting me in a tough position," I replied, trying to work my answer out in my head.  "I can't...no, I WON'T...promise if I see you getting abused.  I can't."

"I know.  I told you...I'm not being abused.  Now will you promise?"

"Sure."  It would have been easy to give my word and then not keep it...but I wasn't built that way.  My word was almost sacred to me and if I gave it, I would keep it.

"Cool.  Okay...one other thing you have to do.  Call me Sam...please.  Everyone calls me Sam."

"No problem," I said with a little grin.  She returned it easily.

We walked up Mabor Street to Grand and then Grand to Masters.  It was a long walk, but my parents knew I was tutoring someone after school.  Plus, I had my cell phone if need be.  When we turned onto Vernoy, though, I began to get a bit worried.

Vernoy was the "dangerous" part of town.  The houses along this area were nothing more than shacks and burned out apartments.  I wouldn't say that every newscast reported stories of shootings and muggings in this area - just most of them.

She stopped rather suddenly.  She looked at me hesitantly, her eyes searching my face and her voice was nothing more than a whisper.  "This is it."

It wasn't much of a house.  Two stories, but very small.  There was a run down chain link fence surrounding the house and dilapidated wooden steps rising up to the door.  The outside looked like it had been painted white once...but that had to have been 50 or more years ago.  The paint, which looked almost gray now, was peeling badly.  The windows had years of grime over them.  As I looked at it, I could barely believe anyone lived there.

Then it hit me.  This must be why she didn't want anyone to meet at her house.  This must be why she avoided people...she didn't want them to know where she lived.  As it turns out, I was both right and wrong.

"Well," I smiled at her putting my best face forward.  I wanted to put her at ease and hopefully break her out of her self-conscious shell.  "Are we going in or are we going to study out here?"

She smiled a small, forced smile at me.  "Just remember your promise."

We walked in the door and the inside was in sharp contrast to the outside in that it was clean.  It was still run down, nothing could change that, but it was orderly.  The dirt from the outside had been banished from in here.  There was a rickety staircase in front of us and the glow of kitchen beyond it.  The living room with its dingy coating of light gray paint and lattice work of cracks and holes in the plaster was off to the left.  Everywhere I turned was mis-matched and apparently second-hand furniture.

"Sammie?" the voice was slurred and pitiful.  I turned towards the voice and almost gasped.

She was in the living room but she almost seemed to blend in.  I hadn't noticed her.  She probably was pretty once but years - if not decades - of decay had erased most of that.  Her eyes were glassy and sunken and her hair was matted and gray.  Her skin had that sallow tone that is often seen after years of drugs or liquor took their effect.  She came to rest with her hand on the door jamb next to us and it was everything I could do not to recoil in horror.

"Momma, this is a friend from school.  He's going to help me with my homework."  Sam spoke quickly.  She pulled at me, dragging me towards the steps.

"Nice...uh...nice to meet you, Mrs. Kothari."  But Sam's mom just looked right past me.

At the top of the stairs were four doors around a small hall, two doors on the right, one at the end of the hall and one on the left.  Sam opened the first door on the right and called in.

"Marky, Mathew.  I'm home.  I'll fix you dinner in a little bit, okay?"

Two boys appeared at the door.  They were young, maybe 10 and 8.  They had the same black hair as Sam but there was very little other differences.  The older one was clearly mulatto, his dark locks were in tight curls close to his scalp.  The other looked almost Asian, with almond eyes.  His hair was short and straight.

"Sammie, watch out for Mom.  She's...uh...who's that?" The older boy spoke quickly, his voice deep and husky.

"A friend from school.  He's going to help me with some homework," Sam replied.  "Go back in your rooms and stay there until dinner, okay?  Stay away from...you know..."

"But you never bring friends home," the younger boy blurted.  His voice was higher than his brothers, but very clear.

"I did today.  Now get!"  The two boys disappeared and the door closed.

She opened the other door on the left and called in.  "Betsy, Mary.  I'm home.  I'll fix dinner a little later.  Just stay in your rooms for now, okay?"

I heard muffled acceptances beyond the door and Sam closed it quietly.  She opened the door on the left and pulled me inside.

The room was small, but clean.  The walls had large cracks in the plaster and some pieces were missing completely.  It had been painted a light blue at one time, but the blue had long since faded into an almost dingy gray.  Some curtains hung on a window on the far wall, but you could barely see anything out that window.

Likewise, the furniture was poor but well kept.  There was no proper bed, just two mattresses laying on the floor in the corner.  It was made with two pillows and some threadbare blankets covering it.  She had a folding chair sitting at a table made of what looked like a door on some milk crates.  There were knick knacks and other things in the milk crates and a small lamp sitting on the make-shift table.

"So now you know," Sam said quietly.  I turned and looked at her and could not believe the terror that was etched on her face.  She suddenly looked old, far older than the 14 or 15 years she had lived.  She waited on me to say something, but I didn't know what to say.

"Your father?" I questioned quietly, trying to think of something to calm her.

"Gone.  Ran off.  I've never known him, though I've known the father of some of the other kids."

"And your mom is..." I started, but she interrupted me.

"Drunk or high most of the day," she said matter of factly.  The look of terror still did not leave her face.  "Out at night...sometimes all night, sometimes only a while.  Partying or...hooking...mostly."

I was quiet then.  I didn't know what to say and worried that anything I did say would be the wrong thing.  My parents had money; my dad owned his own construction business and my mom was a public accountant for a law firm.  I'd heard of people living like this, but I'd never actually seen it.  It had always been an "other people" thing as in it only happened to other people, not people I knew.

Her face fell.  "I'll walk you out," she said in a quiet voice.  "I'm sorry..."

Damn.  In being silent for so long she took it as some kind of rejection.  I may have lived in the well-off section of town, but I wasn't a snob...much.  And I certainly would never reject someone just because of what they had...or didn't have, in this case.

"Aren't we going to study?" I asked quickly as she opened the door.

"Well...I...uh...didn't think...you know...that you'd want to be here after..."

"Sam," I started, unsure of what I was going to say but knowing I needed to say something.  "This house isn't who you are.  It's where you live.  I don't care where you live.  I would like to know who you are, though."  I was being sincere.  Sam and I weren't friends - she had never let me close enough to be friends - but I could never treat anyone badly just because their parents didn't have much money.

Her face lit up in a smile.  "Really?"

"Really."

"Um," she started, a happy little twinkle evident in her voice.  "I only have the one chair, but we could...well...sit on the bed."  She looked up at me, her face still facing the floor.  I'm not sure she realized how attractively coy that look was or how it affected me.  All I knew was that I needed to sit down quickly or else she was going to see the tent in my pants.

"Sure."  I took off my coat and seated myself on the bed.  Pulling my bookbag open, I reached in for my algebra book.  "We should start on page 58 and do those problems.  Then we can do some History, okay."

"Okay," she grabbed her book from her book bag and sat timidly just as far away from me as she could.  She started flipping through the pages, when she turned to me.  "Brian?"

"Yea?" I replied, already beginning to work on the problem in my head.

"Thanks."  Her voice was a soft whisper.

"For what?"

"For not...running away or something...for tutoring me and stuff."  Her voice was still in a whisper but I could tell that this was very important for her.

I just smiled at her.  "Nothing to thank me for, Sam."

As time passed, she began to open up to me.  In class, in the halls, she was still the terror-filled girl she had always been but when we were working in the library, at her house, or during one of the few times she came to my house - she couldn't come to my house very often because she had to be home for her brothers and sisters - she was open and at ease.  It was a good change.

Her life at home, though, didn't get any better.  In some ways, it got worse.  

Sam always rushed me up to her room before her mother could say more than a few words.  For a long time, her mother refrained from climbing the stairs.  I guess, because it never happened, I just assumed that for some reason her mother couldn't follow us.  It wasn't long before I was proved very wrong.

It was a Monday night in late January and Sam and I were sitting on her bed studying.  She had only recently gotten comfortable enough around me to sit next to me.  She sat close, our arms often touching, and she seemed so happy.  

I found, at moments like these, that she was both funny and endearing.  She had a dry wit that often had me on the verge of tears from laughing.  She seemed so alive, so full of life, I wondered how bad her life must have been to force her to become the scared lamb that I had first met.

Without warning, her bedroom door slammed open and her mother stood there in a blind fury.  "WHAT'S GOIN' ON UP HERE?!?"

Sam nearly dove off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud.  I was just too startled to even move.

"You given it up for free, you slut?" her mother screamed at her.  She walked towards Sam's cowering form threateningly.  "You can help pay the fucking bills, bitch!"

I didn't know what to do but I couldn't let anything happen to Sam.  She was, I was startled to realize, my friend.  I had to do something to help.

I stood up and moved to get between her and her mother.  "Just calm down, Mrs. Kothari.  We're just stud..."

"Get the fuck out of my way, you little pissante!"  she screamed at me, but I wasn't moving.  She swung at me but the drugs and alcohol had rotted away whatever muscles she had once possessed.  I easily blocked her punches and slaps.

When she realized I wasn't going to let her get to Sam, she backed up.  Her breath was coming in wheezes and gulps as she eyed me with barely contained fury.  Slowly, her rage was replaced with a vicious, calculating look.

"So.  How much you got?" she sneered at me.

"What?"  I wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Money.  How much you got?"  I just stared at her, unable to believe she was asking me this.  Behind me, I heard Sam's startled gasp.  "Well, if you're going to make time with my little girl, you got to pay for the privilege, big shot.  Now, time is money...so how much you got?"

I was in a bad dream and had no idea how to get myself out.  I reached for my wallet in a daze, not quite able to believe what was happening here.  I pulled it out of my back pocket, but a hand grabbed my wrist before I could bring it in front of me.

"No...god no..." Sam whispered at me, tears dripping with every word.  I turned to her and my heart broke.  She was sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.  "Just go, Brian.  Please...don't do this.  Just go."

"I can't leave you," I whispered, tears began to fill my eyes as well.  It was true; I was worried what would happen if I were to leave.

"Shut the fuck up and give me that wallet!"  Her mother grabbed at my arm, but I just pulled away from her.  She didn't expect it and fell onto Sam's bed.

"YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD!" she screamed at me in a high wailing voice, struggling to get up.

"Just go, Brian.  Please!  I can handle this.  Just go!"  Sam picked up my bag and pushed me out the bedroom door, closing it behind me.

I stood outside the door for a minute, listening to the screaming and wondering if I shouldn't get in there to help Sam.  In the end, though, this was her mother and she'd been protecting herself all her life.  As I turned to walk down the stairs and leave, I watched as both of the doors across the hall quickly closed themselves.

I waited for Sam at the front doors the following morning, but she didn't show.  The Paul Posse did, though, but even their taunts and pushing didn't bother me so much.  I was too worried.

I half expected her to come walking through the door at the beginning of algebra, but she didn't.  I don't think I heard a single word Mr. M said during that class.  All I could think of was Sam.  Whether she was okay or not, whether I should tell a counselor or the police.  I couldn't think of what to say or do...and I was terribly worried.

I almost decided to skip my 3rd hour chemistry class and walk to her house but I didn't.  I kept thinking about how stupid I'd feel if she just were sick or something.  I admit it, I was a mess.  I wasn't thinking straight and I knew it.

I felt like the whole day was crushing me under it.  I didn't realize how much worse things could get.

At fourth hour, I caught Evie as she walked through the door of the lunchroom.  "Hey.  You think we could get a table alone today?"

For the first time that I can remember, Evie didn't look particularly happy to see me.  She looked at me for a moment, then sighed.  "Yea.  I think we'd better."

I caught the sign right away.  It was not good news.  The only thing I could think of was that she had heard about something happening to Sam.

As we walked through the lunch line together, I was desperate to ask what she knew but there were too many people around.  Actually, I was surprised Evie knew anything at all.  She had gone out with her folks the night before, so I hadn't had a chance to even talk to her about what had happened with Sam's mother.

Maybe if I had been less worried about Sam, I would have realized that Evie wasn't saying anything either.

We sat at down in one corner of the long lunch room.  For a few moments, neither of us said a word though we weren't eating either.  It was just an uncomfortable silence that wouldn't go away.

Finally, the uncomfortable silence grew to be too much for me.  "So?  What's up?"

Evie looked at her tray for a few moments.  I think I knew then that what was coming was going to be real bad.  Evie and I had never had problems talking to one another.

"I'm...uh...dating," Evie started, but she wouldn't look at me.

This wasn't what I was expecting and I was stunned for a moment.  Then I realized that I had been so caught up in my life I hadn't even thought that Evie might want to talk to me about hers.

"That's great, Eve!" I said with a forced smile, but I wasn't sure I really meant it.  For some reason, something inside of me wasn't too happy about the news so I wasn't as enthusiastic as I should have been.  Still, I tried to look encouraging.

"Thanks," she grinned at me but the grin never touched her eyes.

"Is it someone I know?"

"Um...yea," she started, but she stopped for a few minutes.  "You...uh...know Paul Mathews, right?"

Time stopped.  I flat-out KNEW that at any moment she was going to jump up and laugh at me.  She was going to quit looking so serious, she was going to tell me it was all a big joke.  But she didn't and it wasn't.

"You...and Paul Mathews?"  I looked at her like she was some alien thing I had never seen before.  Maybe she was talking about a different Paul Mathews.  "You mean THE Paul Mathews?"

"Look, he asked me out last Friday.  I was going to tell him no...I actually did tell him no at first...but he was so funny.  I was laughing and the next thing I know, I said yes."

"Friday?  FRIDAY??  And you're just telling me this today?  What about all those times we talked over the weekend?"

"I didn't know how to tell you over the weekend.  I tried a couple of times, but I didn't know what to say - and you were so caught up in Samantha Kothari.  Believe me, I wanted to tell you!"

"You couldn't tell me?  What's so hard about it??  'Gee, Brian.  I wanted to tell you that I'm dating the guy who has single-handedly made your life miserable for the last 7 years.  Sorry!'"

"Stop it!" Evie snapped at me, tears in her eyes.  "He's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!  NOT THAT BAD?!?" My voice was rising and people around us were starting to look.  I didn't care.  Of all the people in my life, Evie was the one person I would never have expected to betray me.  "Are you the same person who sat on my porch with me as I nursed the black eye he gave me in 3rd grade?  Are you the same person who consoled me all of 5th grade because he started a rumor that I was gay?  I STILL haven't lived that down!"

"That was years ago, Brian..." she started, but I was on a roll and wouldn't let her finish.

"YEARS AGO?  He fucking tripped me on the first day of school THIS YEAR!"

"I'm sure that was an accident!"

"Oh yea...and this morning he *accidentally* pushed me into the side of the school.  You can't do this to me!  You can't go out with HIM Evie!"

She looked as if I'd slapped her as she drew herself up to her full height.  "You don't get to make those decisions for me, Brian!  At least he has the balls to ask a girl out!"

I stood, my fury towering within me.  "Fine," I hissed through clenched teeth.  "I can't be friends with anyone who'd date him so if you're dating him, we can't be friends any more!  Which is it going to be??"

Her eyes opened wide and for a moment she couldn't speak.  "You've changed, Bri," she said with a deathly calm and quiet.  "If you were really my friend, you wouldn't even ask me to choose like that."  She gathered her tray and walked away.  I just sat down and stared at my food angrily, my hunger completely forgotten.

As I made my way out of the lunch room, though, the other problem I had came back to mind.  I still didn't know what to do about Sam and without Evie as a sounding board, I'd have to get through this one on my own.  I guess I would just have to pray she was okay.  If she didn't show up tomorrow, I'd go talk to one of the counselors.

I walked home by myself, Evie behind me most of the way.  Usually, we'd have walked together and then sat talking on one of our porches.  Not any more, though.  Those days were over.  She'd made her bed and now she could lie in it.

My parents could tell I was in a mood as soon as I walked through the door so they just let me be.  My parents were actually very cool.  They expected me to do my chores and my homework but as long as they knew where I was and what I was doing, they pretty much let me live my life.  They weren't aloof, though.  They made sure I knew that if I needed I could talk to them.  If I stewed too long about something, they'd eventually have a talk with me anyway to help clear things up.

So, it was with some surprise that my mom interrupted my homework about 7pm.

"Hey, Bri.  You have a visitor."

When I looked up, Sam was walking in the room looking more than a little scared.

"SAM!"  I was out of my chair in moments, but I stopped short of hugging her in relief when I remembered my mom was in the room.

"Hi, Bri," she just whispered.  There was a misery in her voice that caused me to begin worrying all over again.  "Can we talk??"

"Bri, your dad and I are going next door for some cards," my mom said with a smile.  "Why don't you join us after you get done tutoring?"

I turned to my mom.  "I...uh...don't think that's a good idea, mom.  I've got a lot of homework to do."

"Are you sure?" Mom looked pretty surprised.  I couldn't blame her; I don't think I've ever turned down going over to visit Evie before.  Of course, with Evie and me arguing I really couldn't go over but I didn't want my mom to know that.

"Yea.  I'll be fine."

"Okay.  Be careful, Okay?  And don't keep Sam out too late."

"'k"  I turned to Sam as my mom closed the door.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, looking her over to make sure there were no bruises.

"Yea.  No.  I don't know."  She crossed the room and sat on my bed.  Then she broke down in tears.

I didn't know what to do so I sat next to her and put my arms around her.  She turned into me, burying her face in my chest, and just kept crying.

I tried to comfort her, stroking her hair and holding her against me.  I'd dreamed of holding her in my arms, of course, but this wasn't quite what I'd hoped for.

"She...kept me home from school today," Sam whispered through the sobs.  She didn't mention her name, but I knew she was talking about her mother.  "She grilled me about us...about you and I.  Kept asking if we'd had sex or not.  I kept telling her no, but she kept asking over and over, like she didn't believe me.  I've never seen her like that before."

"Then, she left for a while.  I was going to come right over here because I knew that you'd be worried but I didn't know how long she'd be gone.  So I stayed.  It was a good thing, because she wasn't long."

For a few minutes, Sam couldn't talk.  She just sat there, clutching me, crying.

"She wasn't alone.  She came home with this man...I'd never seen him before.  She said...she said...." Sam couldn't go on.  She was crying hard into my chest now.

"It's okay, Sam," I whispered to her.  "We'll figure something out."

"No," she spoke between sobs.  "You don't understand.  She...my mom...that bitch...she...so...sold...sold...she sold him my virginity!"

I was stunned.  Her words weren't registering in my brain any longer.  How could any parent be so cruel?

"She told me," she began, her words starting and stopping uncontrollably.  "She said...if I was going to act like a slut...I had to start paying my own way...the man had given her two hundred dollars to...to....to take...to sleep with me..."

A sick thought crossed my mind.  "You...uh...you didn't..." but I couldn't finish.  It really didn't matter and I really didn't want to know.  She answered anyway.

"God no," she pulled herself away from my chest and looked into my eyes.  I couldn't believe how red and puffy her eyes were.  "I pushed him and ran out the door.  I ran as fast as I could.  I didn't really know where I was going...until I got to your door..."

I hugged her to me, trying to figure out what I was going to say or do.  "We'll figure something out."

I just sat and held her for a while.  Irrationally, the only thing I could think of was that Evie would know what to do.  But Evie was gone; out of my life by her own choice.  So I was stuck trying to decide about the best course of action and scared into immobility with the fear I'd make the wrong decision.

Eventually, Sam's crying slowed and stopped.  Once again she pulled back and looked up at me, a crazy mixture of fear and determination on her face.

"Brian," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.  "I...uh...I want...I mean, why don't we...you and I...well...will you sleep, you know, with me?"

"What?" I was stunned.  We'd never kissed, never even held hands - hell, we barely even touched each other before and now she was asking me to have sex with her?

"I've, you know, seen how you look at me," she started.  "I know...I've always known, that you wanted more than just friendship.  I wanted more, too.  Why do you think I asked you to tutor me instead of requesting a regular tutor?"  Our school had a tutoring program set up where qualified juniors and seniors were given credit for tutoring struggling freshmen and sophomores.  In the back of my mind, I'd always wondered why she'd picked me and not the tutoring program.  Since I wanted to be with her, I'd never really examined the thought too closely.

"This isn't right, Sam," I began, still holding her.  "I don't want you to do something you'll regret just because..."

"I won't regret it," she interrupted me.  "How could I regret it??  I've wanted you almost from the time you started tutoring me.  I just...I couldn't, you know.  I didn't want to become like my mom..."

"But what's changed?  I don't want you to do something because you're afraid that your mom..."

"I'm not," she interrupted.  "When I ran today I finally realized that I was nothing like her...because I was able to run away and she wouldn't have been.  I don't know what to do, Brian, but I know this.  I want YOU to be my first.  No one else and certainly not some horrible...stranger.  I've thought of nothing else for the past couple of months.  There have been so many times when we were studying at my house or over here when I just wanted to tackle you to the bed and rip off your clothes.  I would be so sick because I was afraid I was becoming my mother, unable to control my desires.  But I have controlled them.  I don't want to anymore."

She took my head in her hands and pulled me closer.  "I want this.  I need this.  Please don't turn me away."

In the next moment our lips met and I lost my ability to argue.  Instead, I pulled her closer, holding her as near to me as I could get her.  I slowly kissed all around her face, trying to kiss the tears away.  Then I returned my lips to hers.

She pushed against me and I let her, our bodies falling to lie on the bed.  Our mouths opened and our tongues dueled against each other.

I ran my hand over her back, lightly touching her and she shivered in my grasp.  My hand stroked lower, over her lower back and finally over her butt and she moaned into my mouth.  Slowly, I drew my hand back up her side, wondering at the feel of her, the weight of her lying on top of me.  After all this time imagining being with her, though, it just wasn't enough.

I broke the kiss and bent my head to her neck, my lips grazing at her flesh.  I had never actually been with a girl before but, in typical nerd fashion, I had read about it in anatomy books and porn magazines.  I knew basically what parts were where and what do with them but there's a big difference between reading and practical application.  So, I did what I read and used her own reactions to guide me to what was right.

As I nuzzled her neck, she shivered again.  Every time my hand traced down her back to her ass and back up her sides, she moaned in pleasure.  Finally, though, I knew that I had to move farther.

I rolled us over until I was on top.  I pulled back from her neck, softly grinding my hard cock into her in the process, and looked at her face for a moment.  Her eyes were closed but there was the hint of a smile teasing the edges of her mouth.  Time to take the next step.

I rolled onto my side and her eyes fluttered open in a question.  I answered by lightly running my hand down to her hip and then up her front, crossing over her breast.  I didn't linger but I had an effect.

"Oh, God..." she moaned, her eyes closing again.  I just smiled to myself.  I ran my hands back down and then up, crossing her breast again and received a warm moan for my trouble.

She sat up, her hands going to the hem of her t-shirt.  With a slow, seductive twist she pulled it over her head with a smile.  She turned to look at me coyly, reached back and undid her bra.  "No stopping now, I guess," she whispered.  She stopped for a moment, gathering her courage.  Then she removed the bra.

Her breasts were beautiful, flushed and taut.  Larger than a grapefruit with small, pert nipples, I felt my mouth water.  Slowly, her eyes holding my own, she lay back down.

To my credit, I didn't go straight for her breast.  As I was doing earlier, I ran my hand down the side of her to her hip and then ran it back up the front, my hand crossing over her hard, elongated nipple.

"Yes!" she moaned, but I didn't linger.  I ran my hand down between her two breasts, straight down to her belly button, and then very slowly back up to her other breast, again crossing over her nipple.  "Uh!" she gasped.

I continued like that, alternating between her two supple mounds, and each time I was rewarded with a moaning gasp.  After I was sure she was aware of and comfortable with my rhythm, I took it a step further.  On my upward stroke of her far breast I bent my head down and took her nipple gently between my lips.

"AIEEE!" she cried, her arm going to the back of my head and pressing my lips into her breast.  "Yes.  God.  Like that!"

I suckled on her nipple, stopping my other hand at her other breast and slowly traced my middle finger around that nipple.  The taste of her skin was salty and warm.  The smell of her filled me and I was in heaven.  There was more, though.

I heard a zipper and looked down.  Her jeans were unbuttoned and she was slowly unzipping herself.  I watched, fascinated, as she finished but my mouth never left her breast.  As the zipper reached its final destination, I flicked my tongue over her nipple.  "AAAaaaa" she cried.

Her hand left my head and went to the waistband of her jeans.  As she slowly wriggled to pull them down, I moved my hand slowly over her stomach.  As her jeans succumbed to their slow journey over her hips, my hand reached her navel.  As she scissored her legs to push her jeans past her knees, my fingertips reached the soft curls of her pubic hair.  As her jeans fell off her feet, my fingers lightly traced down her nether lips.

"Fuck yea!" she whispered.  "God, more..."

I was in no hurry, though.  I wanted to relish my first time.  I wanted to remember it and not rush through.  Though my cock ached in my jeans, I remembered all of the stories and articles I had ever read.  The likelihood of my lasting more than seconds when the time came was miniscule...and I really wanted her to go off at least one time before then.

Her pussy was very wet as I kept rubbing up and down her lips.  I made sure to continue licking softly across the hardness of her nipple as I slowly entered her with my digit.

"AAAAAAA!" she screamed as my thumb came in contact with the hard nub of her clit.  I continued slowly moving my finger in and out of her.  Every now and then I'd lightly flip my thumb against her clit.  I made sure not to get into a rhythm, to keep her constantly guessing about what I was doing and that worked to a point but it didn't send her over the edge.

I slowly sped up, trying to bring her off but she just wouldn't go over.  I felt her hand on the back of my head, holding me against her breast.  Her breathing was coming in gasps, ragged and uneven.  I concentrated my thumb more on her clit and her moans told me I was going in the right direction but it still wasn't enough.

I'd read of a way that was supposed to be easier to bring a girl off but I was more than a bit scared.  Still, I wasn't sure of what else to do.  So, I swallowed my fear and moved myself down Sam's torso.  

I licked lightly down her stomach.  Slowly, I lowered myself down her body.  My tongue led the way, slowly traveling down over her hips.  Her legs were bent over the edge of my bed so as I moved even lower, I had to get down on the floor next to the bed.

"Brian?  What are you..."  But I answered her as I pushed her legs slightly further apart.  I took a moment to savor my first close-up look between a girl's legs.

I was mesmerized.  The sight of it, the gentle smell of her arousal held me spell bound.  She had a soft, sparse growth of dark curls surrounding her sex, but I could see the engorged lips of her treasure peeking out.  I hesitated only a moment before her soft scent lured me to her.

The first touch of my tongue to her nether lips was electric for both of us.  "OHMYGOD!  Yes!  OHGODOHGODOHGOD!!"  she moaned, and her hips came up off the bed.

I didn't expect that move, so I was doubly surprised when my tongue entered her.  The taste, though, was heavenly.  It was a soft sweet cream that gathered on my tongue like drops of dew.  A sudden compulsion came over me and I devoured her.

My tongue flicked up and down her lips, trying desperately to capture her every drop.  I alternated these up and down licks with a quick thrust into her.  I was grateful when her hips started rocking back and forth in time to my tongue's ministrations.

I received my biggest reward, however, when I flicked my tongue further up and came in contact with her clit.

"OHMYFUCKINGGOD!  OHMYFUCKINGGODOHMYFUCKINGGOD" she screamed, her hands moving to the back of my head and pulled me into her pussy.  I caught on and wrapped my lips around her clit.  I barely had time to flick my tongue against it when she finished her journey.

Her hips bucked up at my face and she shuddered against me.  Her hands were claws trying to pull me further and further into the junction of her legs.  The best part, though, was the steady flow of juice coming out of her pussy.  The second best was her moaning screams.

"GODGODGODGODGOD!!  SoGood! It's so fucking good!  Your tongue!  Your fucking tongue.  EAT IT!  EAT IT!  GOD Please don't stop eating my pussy!"

She shaked and shimmied.  She flopped and thrust.  Through it all, though, I made sure my lips never left her lower ones.  After all of that, I was not going to allow a drop of her tangy juice to escape me.

Finally, though, she began to come down.  So I started licking her again slowly.  I reached up and pushed a finger into her as my tongue licked up and down her lips.

"What, Brian...no...come up here babeeeeeeEEEE!"  Her words said one thing, but her hands pulling me down into her wonderful pussy told me something else.  As I felt the unmistakable signs of her arousal increasing again, I moved my lips to the engorged nub of her clit.  I took it between my lips lightly, and then used my tongue to flick at it.  With each flick, I pushed my finger into her and then back out.  I started slowly, and then gradually increased my tempo until she was cumming once again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA"

As she was coming back down, I quickly undressed and moved myself over her.  I knew that the first time was going to be painful and I wanted to begin before she came back fully from her last orgasm.

I moved above her, using one hand to rub the head of my cock in her juices.  When the crown was sufficiently lubricated I slowly pushed at the juncture of her legs.

For several minutes I pushed into her, but it wouldn't fit; I was too large to fit inside of her.  I kept up the pressure as I watched her return.  I still hadn't entered her when her breathing had become more regular and her eyelids started fluttering.

I was just about to stop, to give up, when she gave way and the head of my member entered her.

Her eyelids opened in surprise and I could see some fear in her look.

"We can stop," I heard myself saying, though I was silently screaming to go on.  "We don't have to do this..."

"Yes.  Yes you do," she whispered with a smile.  "Because if you don't put that big thing all the way up inside of me I don't think I'll ever forgive you."

"It's going to hurt," I warned, but she just placed her hands on either side of my face.

"You're right, but it's going to hurt if you do it now or you do it later.  I vote for now."

Her argument made sense to me, so slowly pushed myself forward.  I hadn't gone more than an inch when I encountered the barrier of her hymen.  I looked a question into her eyes and they told me to continue.

I went as slowly as I could, pressing hard.  I wanted to minimize the pain; I knew I couldn't completely eliminate it.  Still, I was unprepared for her cry of pain when her hymen broke.

I stopped, waiting.  Her face was clenched and a lone tear rolled down her cheek.

"Are you okay?"  I asked softly.  She just looked at me and gave me a courageous little smile.

"Yes.  Just...go slow, okay?"

I pushed slowly, inch by inch of my cock entering her.  She was so tight the pleasure was almost painful.  I wasn't extremely large, but I was a bit larger than average.  About 8 1/2" (what guy HASN'T measured his organ), but I was pretty thick.  I had no live basis of comparison, only what I'd read, but I knew that I wasn't small.

Finally, my pubic bone came to rest against hers and I was all the way in.

"God, Brian.  You're...you're all the way inside of me.  I feel so full.  Give me a second...I need to get used to this..."

"No pain?" I asked, a little part of me worried.

"No.  It's...god....it's glorious...  You can start now, just go slow, okay?"

So I did.  I pulled myself out of her still marveling at how tight and wet she felt.  When only the head was in, I pushed myself back in.  When I bottomed out, I started sliding back out.  I was getting close, though.  I knew I wouldn't last long.  I needed something to distract me.

"This is...kinda like...shampooing, isn't it?" I grunted, my face turned up into a grin.

"What...oh god....do you mean?"

"Well, like the instructions on the shampoo bottle.  Insert, extract, repeat."  I chuckled.

Her laugh, though, filled her entire body doing incredible things with her cunt muscles.  Instead of distracting me, the ripples of her laughter put me over the edge.

"Oh god!" My mouth joined with hers and I moaned into her mouth.  "Cummmming" I called, muffled.

I collapsed on top of her and she just cooed in my ear.  I don't know how long I lie like that, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.  Then, realizing I was probably crushing her, I rolled back onto my side, my semi-hard cock pulling out of her with a squish.

We lay like that for a few minutes, gathering our breath.  I wrapped her in my embrace and pulled her to me.  She sighed contentedly and cuddled into me.  Everything felt so right, so perfect.  I couldn't have better scripted my first time if I'd tried.


