The Making of a Cocksman by Lubrican

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

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

Bob

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Chapter One
 
Have you ever thought about the word "Slut"? It's an interesting word, usually meaning a girl or woman who has sex with multiple men on a more or less casual basis. Right? But what do they call a guy who has sex as often as he can with multiple girls or women?
 
You don't call him a slut. Not even sluts call him a slut. It's an interesting philosophical question to some.  Humor me for a few paragraphs to explore that philosophical question, and then I'll get to the part of the story you're actually looking for.  
 
The fancy name is Gigolo, but that infers that he fucks for money ... that he's a male prostitute, and while you could make an argument that all prostitutes are sluts, you can't go the other way.
 
I even did some very unscientific research about what guys like that are called, but all I came up with was "cocksman" (alternatively spelled coxman) and "sex machine".   In other words, I didn't find much.  
 
Anyway, whatever you call guys who do that, I'm one of them. 
 
Now I know there are some of you out there who are saying "Shame, shame!" But you have to understand something. And here it is: 
 
There has probably never been a time when a girl was sitting around playing with her dollies and thought to herself "I'm going to grow up and be a slut!"
 
And, I doubt seriously if most boys are climbing a tree one day and think "I'm going to fuck as many girls as I possibly can when my peter will actually squirt stuff." 
 
You might notice that I used the terms "probably never" with the girls and "doubt seriously" with the boys. Isn't it interesting that one is more definitive than the other? Both are conditional statements, but lets face it, it's more likely that a guy will try to spread his seed far and wide, than it is for a girl to accept seed from a variety of sources.   It's worth thinking about that if a girl does it though, she's called a slut, and that's not a complimentary title.  But if I guy does it, he's called a sex machine, or maybe a cocksman, both of which suggest he might be proud of himself.  And, it follows that most men would LIKE to be cocksmen, but not all that many are.
 
So, understanding that - and I admit it's open for argument - the question that bubbles to the top of the mind is: What is it that tips the balance for a guy to make him a cocksman?
 
I can think of arguments based on Biology, and arguments based on Culture and arguments based on Evolution. But before we get too deep and you all quit reading, let me just tell you the story of how I became a sex machine. Then you can decide which argument might explain me.
 
Let me throw a wrench in the works from the very start by saying it was an accident.
 
I was a normal, ordinary, every day sixteen year old boy, growing up in a smallish town in middle America. It wasn't the Bible Belt, but it wasn't far from that either. It was in the late sixties, but I wasn't tuned in to the "Love Generation" or any of that Hippie stuff, and neither were any of the girls I'm going to tell you about.
 
I had a mom and a dad, and a sister named Claire. I also had a mutt named Buddy, who I probably loved more than the others simply because Buddy always loved me, no matter what kind of trouble I got into. I couldn't afford a car, but had access to my Dad's 1966 Chevy Malibu for dates and to cruise the highway between Junctionville, where we lived and Derby, eleven miles down the road. Most all of us kids participated in that little rite, on a more or less regular basis, going from the A&W Root beer place in "Junktown", to the Dairy Queen in Derby. And back, of course. Gas was twenty cents a gallon in those days and you could cruise the strip all night for a buck.
 
I took a lot of girls on that trip and, though I had an interest in necking, I never pushed it. The girls appreciated that too, which was the whole point. I got a reputation for being "safe", which encouraged most girls to accept an invitation to drag the strip.
 
It also encouraged them to experiment a little, since they all knew I'd stop whenever they said stop. That led to a lot of hot kisses and quite a bit of stroking breasts and a ton of heavy breathing.
 
Now girls talk about boys whenever they get together, so my name got mentioned a lot, even when Claire was in the group. Not every guy got the stamp of excellence during these talks. From what I understand, the talk would usually start out something like 
 
"I had to fight Jimmy Johnson off with a stick last night. That boy has more than two hands, I'll tell you that!" 
 
And from there they'd all complain about whatever boy had tried to do this, or begged them to do that and so on. Then, comparisons would begin, about which boy was more dangerous than the rest. This had nothing to do with how cute the boy was. That was a separate issue. They might all agree that Joe Bob was the cutest boy in town, and all swear they'd never ever let him get them alone, all in the same sentence. And, inevitably, so I was later told, my name would come up and there would be sighs all around. It wasn't because I was cute, or a football star. It was because I had tweaked nipples so nice and then quit when told to. 
 
And, of course, girls lie just like boys, particularly about how far they've been. You can tell when a girl lies, because they say they did something, but not who with. If it's the truth they give credit where credit is due, or blame, as the case may be.
 
So, whenever my name came up around Claire, all she ever heard about me was good things, and about how nice things felt when I did them, and how it wasn't scary at all. And Claire decided, somehow, that I was some kind of legend, who knew everything there was to know about sex.
 
But the fact was that I was a virgin. I knew quite a bit about tweaking nipples and was a pretty good kisser, but that was about it. I'd never had the courage to put my hand below the belt, and no girl had ever spread her legs and yelled "Rub my pussy Bobby, I'm on fire!"
 
Claire had what she called her posse, which was a group of five girls who hung around together almost all the time. She was the Sheriff and when they were together it showed. She bossed those girls something terrible and they fell in line like ducks after their momma. They were all fourteen and just entering what's sometimes called the blush of womanhood. I'd known them all since we were little, and to them I was just like a piece of furniture. True, I had sharp corners, so to speak, that they bumped into once in a while, and I was dented and scratched a little as a result, but I wouldn't have been surprised at all if one of them came into the living room and sat down on me not knowing I was even there.
 
That all changed when Clair and the posse turned fifteen. It changed because all of a sudden Claire was allowed to date.
 
Well, that put a shock into the posse. None of them had been allowed to go on real dates until they were fifteen. And even then there was a lot of scrutiny by parents concerning who they went out with.  Claire had bribed me a time or two to take the whole bunch out to drag the strip with me.  
 
Have you ever been in a 1966 Malibu with six chattering teenaged girls? It was kind of fun in some ways. first of all it was crowded. They crammed four in the back, and two more up front with me on the bench seat, which meant one of them had to either almost sit on top of the other, or straddle the Hurst floor shifter. They talked like I wasn't there and it was hilarious to hear them tell about sneaking out and first kisses and all that stuff. Some of them had older sisters who had been out with me too, and they'd heard all about what fun girls had with me on dates. They didn't know the details - they just knew that the girls all liked going out with Bobby.
 
But of course, other than dragging the strip as a group, they didn't want to go out with ME. I was Claire's brother, and I farted when they were around, and drank a whole bottle of Coke just so I could try and perform the alphabet in one long burp  and all that normal kind of thing boys did at age eleven and twelve. Of course by the time I took them down the strip, I was almost seventeen and they were fifteen, which made me an old man to them. They went to the Junior High School, and I was Junior IN High School.
 
I also had nicknames for them all that they pretty much didn't appreciate.
 
Claire was "Claire Bear", because sometimes she was a bear to be around. Of them all she was probably the second best looking, with shoulder length brown hair and dark eyes, and a really beautiful smile. She smiled a lot too. Life was fun for Claire. Her breasts didn't look that big usually, but when she wore a tight shirt, or something that showed a little cleavage, she got the attention of the boys. Her breasts had changed shape too. The last time I saw her without a top on they were like cones, with round points. Her nipples were flat and small, and she could have gone braless and nobody would be able to tell. Now they had gotten a lot rounder or more full or something. I could tell by the shape through her clothes, unless it was the bra that was making her look bigger. 
 
Suzy Rumbell was "Loosey Suzy" because she always wore big oversized shirts. That was because she never wore a bra. She didn't have much up top and didn't need a bra, except she had nipples that poked out through everything she wore.
 
Then there was Monique Haskins. I called her Unique Monique because she was the only girl I knew who looked like she did. She had ass length dark hair that was almost blue it was so black, with dark skin, like she tanned all the time. Her lips were almost fat they were so full, but they didn't look fat. She was the first of the posse to develop breasts and they just kept growing. Now they were big and looked soft.
 
The best looking one of the bunch was Margaret Williams. she had short straight blond hair that framed her face, which had high cheekbones and big green eyes. Her nose was what they call a button nose and she had a smile even more beautiful than Claire's. She was slim everywhere except her chest. She looked like she might fall over if she wasn't careful, because her center of balance was so high. That was offset by a butt that she kept confined in tight jeans. It was round and stuck out in the back like her tits stuck out in the front. Every guy in school dreamed of sucking on her titties and feeling that ass. I called her Large Marge. 
 
Donna Miles was the one I understood least. I called her Miss September, because she reminded me of the Playboy Bunny from that month when I was fifteen, whose name was also Donna. She was really tall with long dark red hair that she almost always kept draped across her chest. She played with it all the time. I later found out she thought her breasts were ugly and covered them up with her hair. She had the potential to put the rest of them to shame, with a perfectly proportioned body that was an hour glass shape. 
 
Last was the one I liked the best, at least up until the time when this story took place. She was Roberta Simms and I called her Knobby Robby. She was a tomboy, and liked the same things I liked when we were growing up. She could run as fast as me, and climb as good as me and all that stuff. She was all knees and elbows and gawky, flat -chested well into her fourteenth year and even now only had small conical breasts, like Claire's had been before they filled out. She was just behind the others in physical development. But she treated me better than the others, which means she didn't make as much fun of me. And, in the end, she would be true to that emotional style.
 
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
 
The accident happened while I was dragging the strip with a car full of giggling, screaming ... embarrassing girls. 
 
See, somebody had to sit beside me, and as I mentioned earlier, if she didn't want to sit on top of whoever was in the suicide seat, she had to straddle the shifter. Now that shifter only had a three and a half inch throw, so it didn't move all that much, but for a girl, barely fifteen, to sit there with her legs spread, one of them touching mine, and have my hand moving around between her legs ... well, it caused a sensation. When we were getting in the car I explained it to them, and there were squeals and chirps and sounds you wouldn't even think a human being could make as they argued about which one would be the "shifter slut". 
 
This was a new term to me. I'd never heard of a "shifter slut" before, but it made interesting images flash through my mind. That was the days when miniskirts were coming on board, much to the delight of us guys, and the thought of a girl in a miniskirt straddling that shifter made my dick stiff. Of course all these girls were wearing shorts, mostly cut-offs, but it was a nice little fantasy.
 
In the end Claire volunteered to be the shifter slut, since I was her brother and nobody would even think of accusing me of copping a feel of my own sister.
 
Right?
 
So, when they wanted me to do what mister nice policeman commonly called "an exhibition of speed" as we were dragging the strip, and my testosterone levels, already elevated by being around all that woman flesh, surged even higher, I decided to give them what they wanted.
 
I have to say here that Dad let me drive the Chevy because I took good care of it. It had a 357 in it, with positraction. My Dad had wanted one when he was a kid, but couldn't afford it, and when he found this one he lovingly rebuilt it just like his dream car back then. The station wagon was our "family car", which meant it was Mom's car, and it wasn't cool anyway. And Dad, bless his heart, understood what a young man felt when he drove that car. So, on pain of torture and death and being grounded for life if I so much as scratched it, he let me drive it. I knew I was lucky and didn't abuse things. Usually I didn't ever rod it. I'd get on it pretty good from time to time, to press some pretty little thing back into her seat and get her heart going, but that was about all. 
 
In other words, I wasn't used to power shifting.
 
So, when I crammed it from first to second, and my hand slipped off the T handle ... it slapped Claire right on her money maker.
 
The engine screamed, now in neutral, and that got all my attention. Which meant my hand STAYED on the crotch of Claire's tight shorts, separated from her pussy by maybe two hundredths of an inch of terrycloth and polyester.
 
While I jerked my foot off the accelerator, Claire's surprised legs slammed closed, trapping my hand. By then, of course, my brain had registered where my hand was, and I was trying to pull it out. but Claire was a healthy young girl who played sports and had firm, well developed thigh muscles. So what happened was that I tugged, and went slack to tug again until, about the third time my hand basically stroked her pussy, her legs sprang back open and she yipped.
 
My hand came free, went back to the shifter, I put it in second and my exhibition of speed was put on indefinite hold.
 
It was an inglorious end to an attempt to impress a bunch of fifteen year old girls.
 
Well, truth be told, it DID impress two fifteen year old girls. It impressed Claire. But I didn't know it then. Then it was just an accident that I didn't want to talk about. It so happened that Unique Monique was sitting in the suicide seat, and saw the whole sordid affair. It impressed her too. She started laughing and laughed so hard that she couldn't tell the girls in the back what had happened. Claire started slapping at her, yelling for her to "Shut UP!" And, when Monique finally caught her breath Claire threatened her with terrible things if she opened her mouth.
 
Of course that got the four in the back all riled up and yelling and screaming about "What happened ... what HAPPENED?" 
 
Claire was yelling "NEVER MIND." to them and "DON'T YOU SAY A WORD!" to Monique, and I knew things were going to get crazy in a minute.
 
So I accelerated to a hundred miles an hour and drove it that fast for a whole mile down route 64.
 
That did it. There was still screaming, but it was now about something completely different than the fact that I had just felt up my own sister's pussy. And, by the time I slowed down, which was only 36 seconds after I hit the 100 mark on the speedometer, there was a hush in the car as adrenaline flooded those young bodies and they concentrated on just breathing.
 
"Wow" said Claire. She was talking about a lot more than the speed, though I didn't know it then.
 
"Yeah, she's got some guts." I said in typical manly tones, trying to make them forget I'd muffed the shift ... in more ways than one, now that I think about it.
 
Then I spent some time checking gauges and listening for bad sounds. I'd seen the tac climb into the red there for just a second while I was groping Claire Bear.   But everything seemed to be OK, so I loafed along the rest of the way. 
 
No more exhibitions of speed that night. No sir.
 
We got back to Junk Town and they all piled out and Claire leaned over and kissed me on the cheek of all things! "Thanks" she said, and scrambled out after Monique. None of the rest of them thanked me. I was just furniture to them.
 
Now I just described that incident to the best of my memory, and in my memory I clearly remember Claire threatening Monique with dire consequences if she told the four in the back seat where my hand had been, albeit accidentally and only for five or six seconds.
 
So what does Claire do when they get back? She takes them all up to her room and then DESCRIBES IT in Technicolor, with details and sound effects, while Monique adds in even MORE details in her witness testimony.  Only Claire embellished it "a little" and Monique went along with it!
 
Of course I wasn't there, but I heard about it later, from all six of them at one time or another, and the way SHE told it was nothing like it actually happened. 
 
According to Claire I grabbed her pussy and squeezed it, pressing my finger between her plump pussy lips, like I was trying to rip a hole in her terrycloth shorts. Then I rubbed hard, and my fingers scrabbled at her waistband, trying to slip inside, so I could get INSIDE her panties and touch her naked pussy!   According to her, if it hadn't been for her panties she'd have lost her cherry in an instant to my probing finger. Then she WRESTLED my hand out from between her legs, making me understand that I was totally wrong to be doing this to her and exacting somehow, without words, a promise that I'd do her chores for a month in penance for my transgression.
 
That was when Large Marge reputedly said "Why'd you make him stop? I bet it felt good."
 
There were "EEwwww"s and shrieks and bedlam as Claire got all red in the face (they all agreed that she blushed furiously) and shouted that I was her BROTHER. 
 
Like they didn't know that or something.
 
Large Marge just said "I think you should have let him do it longer." and I guess the world, as we know it, came to an end or something. It was noisy, I'll tell you that.
 
Like I said, I wasn't there, though I could hear some of it in an undecipherable way. I was sitting downstairs watching (lusting after) Susan Dey playing Laurie on the Partridge Family. Marge apparently broke up the meeting of the posse, because they straggled out, under the impression that I had intentionally groped my sister, giving me decidedly odd looks.  Marge must have meant what she said because she actually said "Good night Bobby." to me. Monique just laughed and they left together.
 
Claire didn't come down for another fifteen minutes, and when she did she was flushed and breathing hard. I didn't know enough about women to know what that meant back then. I found out what she'd been doing later. But I'll tell you that later, because what I DID notice was that she was awfully friendly to me, considering the social gaff that had occurred only some forty-five minutes earlier.
 
"What'cha watchin'?" she asked, though anybody could see what I was watching. Then she said "Oooo David Cassidy ... he's so dreamy." and she plopped down BESIDE me on the couch to watch.
 
The first thing I noticed was her use of the word "dreamy", which had gone out of use when I was .. like eleven or something.  Then I noticed she was sitting beside me.  Right beside me.  On the couch.  Where she had all the room in the world to get away from her cootie-ridden brother.
 
This was something new.  It's not like we fought all the time, but we rarely had anything in common when it came to routine run-of-the-mill daily activity type stuff.  Like watching TV.  If I liked it, she probably didn't, and if she was watching it I knew I'd rather read or something.  
 
What?  You ask what she watched that I didn't find interesting?  Well, I'd love to be able to tell you, cause then I wouldn't feel like the jerk I'm going to appear to be.  I have no idea what she watched.  I just assumed if she was interested in it, I wouldn't be.  It was just the way we were.
 
Then I saw Claire's eyes dart toward my lap.  Like I said, I'd been watching Susan Dey, with those slitty little eyes and that perfect face, and those tits that they always made her hide, but which couldn't be hidden from a boy's fantasy.  She was a living Playboy model who just hadn't gotten old enough for Mister Hefner to hire yet, and you could peek into her life and see the routine run-of-the-mill daily activity type stuff she did every day.  Whenever I watched that show I was in a constant state of rigidity.
 
So when Claire glanced at my lap, there was a rather obvious lump in it, right under my zipper.
 
So guys?  What the hell do you do when you've got a boner, and your sister looks right at it?  I didn't know what to do.  So I blurted out "It's because of Laurie ... not you."
 
Now doesn't that sound completely reasonable?  I mean I was telling the truth, and since I had lately done something that the average girl might accidentally think I had done on purpose, I thought that would clear things up.
 
Turns out Claire was an average girl.  A guy had grabbed her pussy and then rubbed his hand up and down while pressing it against said pussy.  The fact that it was her own brother didn't seem to matter. Again, later, she explained to me that, with all the stories she'd heard about my talent with making girls feel so fabulous, she thought I was trying to demonstrate it to her and she was ... get this ... flattered!
 
And then she came in and sat down beside me and I demonstrated how cute I thought she was some more by developing a nice manly erection.  That's right, while I was apologizing, in my uncouth male way, for having a boner that Susan Dey brought into the world, Claire assumed that my stiff dick was more demonstration of just how cute I thought she was!  
 
OK, Guys, here's some wisdom for you.  I learned this the hard way - no pun intended.  When you get a hardon around a girl, and she notices it, she thinks she caused it.   It doesn't matter what you're watching on TV.  It doesn't matter that the hottest girl in school just bent over ten feet away to retie her saddle oxfords and you got a shot of panty.   She's with you ... you have a boner ... she caused it.  Period.  It's female logic or something.
 
So, when you quite truthfully say "Hey, that hot chick on TV got me hard as a rock.", she hears "Hey, you turn me on something fierce, but I can't admit it cause you're my sister, so I'm going to pretend it was that so-so looking girl on the boob tube."
 
"It's OK." said my sister.  Imagine that.  It was OK with my sister that I got a hardon for Susan Dey.
 
OK, so now let's recap, to make sure you're getting this.  My hand slipped off the T handle of my dad's shifter, and my hand accidentally slapped my sister's love nest.  Accident.  No question about it.  Then I rubbed my sister's pussy because her legs slammed closed and I couldn't get my hand out.  Another accident.  She didn't mean to do it, so it was an accident.  Then she misinterpreted what had happened, thinking that, because I was a cocksman, I MEANT to rub her pussy because that's what I did with all the other girls.  Purely an accidental misunderstanding of the situation.
 
So that's three accidents.  And that doesn't count the accident of her walking in on me while I happened to be watching Susan Dey and had a boner, or her accidental assumption that SHE caused the boner and that I was too embarrassed to admit it.  So now we have three-to-five accidents that have created a situation where I am thinking one thing and my sister is thinking entirely another.
 
So, when she got up an went to her room, I didn't think anything about it. I finished watching Susan Dey and then went to my own room. I had just gotten my hands on Heinlein's new book called "Stranger In A Strange Land" and I was hooked on it after only two chapters.  It was close to bedtime, and I liked to fall asleep reading.  I had better dreams when I did that.
 
So, when Claire stepped into my room and stood there silently, I didn't even notice her for a few minutes. I was lying on my back reading, in just my Fruit Of The Looms, which is what I slept in, when she cleared her throat. I glanced over and saw Claire, (one) who wasn't supposed to come in my room without permission and (two) was dressed how SHE sleeps, which was in a T shirt and panties.
 
Claire stood there, in that T shirt and those powder blue panties, for all the world like she was completely dressed.
 
"Bobby?" she said. Her voice didn't sound nearly as confident as she looked.
 
"Interesting outfit" I commented.
 
"Don't make fun of me," she said automatically.
 
"Who says I'm making fun of you. It IS an interesting outfit. I'm a guy and you're a girl, and the guy part of me thinks that's a really interesting outfit."
 
"Even though you've seen me in it, or something like it a thousand times?" she asked.
 
"Claire Bear ... what do you want?" I asked. Heinlein was calling me.
 
"Does it look sexy?" she asked.
 
"Claire, I'm your brother." I said unnecessarily. "Brothers don't usually think of their sisters as being sexy ... or even not sexy."
 
"But if you weren't my brother, would you think I looked sexy?" Girls have a way of ignoring huge obstacles, and Claire was no different. She assumed that I could just forget she was my sister. I tried squinting my eyes so she blurred a little bit. Now she was more or less a feminine shape, but I lost so much definition that she just looked like she had on flesh colored pants or something.
 
Not being completely stupid, I opted to do the smart thing in this situation. "Yes, you're definitely sexy." I let my eyes go back to normal and, to my immense surprise, as she came into focus I really saw the things I'd been trying to imagine. Her legs were long and, of course, bare, and she had just enough spread in her hips to give her shape there before her lines swept back in to her slim, flat stomach. Then the T shirt bulged where her breasts were. I noticed nipples and was shocked.
 
"Are you BRALESS?!" I whispered as loud as I could ... you know ... to show I was shocked.
 
She blushed. "Yeah, does it look sexy?"
 
What was all this "Do I look sexy" stuff, anyway? She's always primped and played with makeup and all that stuff, but it was more for other girls to see than boys. She hadn't been allowed to date, after all. I suppose she could have been showing herself off for boys at school, but it couldn't lead to anything. So why did she care? 
 
While I'd been thinking all this my eyes had gone on up to her hair, which was in a pony tail. I was rocked to my core as I realized she looked ... fuckable! She DID! It was incredible. My baby sister looked enough like a woman that I contemplated her with some guy hunched over her, between her legs, pounding away as she made those sounds you heard on the occasional X-rated video tape that somebody snuck from home. I felt a tightness in my gut and realized two things that astounded me even more.
 
First, I didn't like the idea of that amorphous guy between her legs. Not at all. No matter how satisfied she sounded in my imagination.
 
And second ... I had a boner.
 
And third, I was astounded to find out she'd been right! I COULD look at her as a female-other-than-my-sister. That was what caused the boner.
 
Now I was in a quandary. My sister looked sexy. No doubt about that. My burgeoning prick was announcing it in a way that couldn't be missed. Even Claire wouldn't think I got a boner reading science fiction. It was obvious she WANTED me to think she looked sexy ... but I wasn't at all sure how she'd react if I said she did and had a boner to prove I was telling the truth.
 
"You have a boner!" she gasped.
 
It wasn't the kind of gasp that told me what she thought about the fact that I had a boner. It could have been a gasp of disgust. I decided to try to take the safe road.
 
"Yeah. So what. Guys get them. Happens all the time." I wanted so bad to reach down and straighten out my cock, which was trying to poke up toward my face, but was caught in my shorts. All it could do was make this big lump.
 
"So does that mean I look sexy?" she asked. She took a step further into the room as she asked that damned question again.
 
I thought I might as well get it over with. "Yes, it means you look sexy. There! Are you satisfied? Though why in the world you'd want your brother to think you were sexy is beyond me." I tried to put it back on her.
 
She came two steps closer. I could see her better, and her nipples were prominent, like some of the girls had when they were all excited and I was playing with them. It made my dick even harder.
 
"When we were on the strip? And your hand went ... there?" she stopped.
 
I didn't know what to say. 
 
"Yeah?" That was pretty noncommittal, I thought.
 
"Was that on purpose?" she asked. I say she asked, but that doesn't convey the tone that was in her voice. It was crystal clear to me that the answer to this question was VERY important to her. My problem was that I didn't know if it was important GOOD ... or important BAD. I thought furiously. The way she was dressed, combined with the way she wanted me to think she was sexy tipped the balance.
 
"No" I said. "It wasn't on purpose ... and I'm sorry if it ticked you off ... but it was kind of funny too. I guess what I'm saying is I hope you aren't mad about it."
 
"Nobody's ever touched me there before," she said, like that explained everything. It was quiet for a long minute and then she went on. "It made me feel all mooshy inside."
 
I knew what she meant. "Mooshy" was something I tried very hard to make girls feel as I played with them. I had succeeded on a number of occasions, but it hadn't gotten me laid yet. Still, for that brief contact to have brought out that response in her made my hormones rush. She had to be very highly sexed if those few rubs had turned her on. Still, she was pretty young, and probably just confused about things. Believe it or not, my moral compass kicked in.
 
"I wouldn't feel bad about that if I were you." I said sagely. "That's a pretty normal thing for a girl to feel when something like that happens. Don't worry about it. It'll go away."
 
As I look back on it, that must have made her feel safer or something, because she took another step and sat down on the edge of the bed.  The edge of the bed where her brother, with a boner for her, was lying.  She didn't say anything for what seemed like a long time.  Then something came out that sounded almost forced.
 
"When the girls left I had to rub myself," she said plain as the nipples poking out of her T shirt.
 
Now THAT was interesting. I masturbated, of course. But my little sister? Who'd have thought it? I was astonished again. 
 
"I feel like rubbing myself again right now," she said. "And it's all your fault!" 
 
"How is it MY fault?!" I asked, incredulous. 
 
"Cause your hand felt good," she said. 
 
"But I'm your brother!" I stated the obvious with blinding clarity. 
 
"I know, and that's what makes me feel so weird about this. I liked it when my own brother touched my pussy. That makes me a pervert or something doesn't it?" She sounded like she wanted to be comforted. Then she dropped the bomb. "Did you like it? Touching me, I mean?" 
 
Now how does a guy answer a question like that? I mean she wasn't screaming at me or anything, so saying "Sure, I loved to feel your soft teen pussy under my hand. I wanted to squeeze it and slide a finger up in you." might not garner a scream for the Police. But I wasn't sure about that either. So I took the easy road, the road that worked with lots of girls. 
 
"Claire, you're a beautiful sexy girl. ANY guy would love to touch your pussy." I started out to deliver that line with all my acting skills, and then, to my surprise, found it didn't take any acting at all. She WAS a babe, and her pussy HAD felt soft and nice. 
 
Claire sat there for a long time, like she was thinking. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, through a wisp of hair that was hanging down beside her face. 
 
"I know what you do with those girls," she said.
 
She had changed the subject and I didn't know how to respond.  So I didn't.
 
"I mean I know some of it." she corrected herself.  "I hear them talking sometimes.  They don't talk about what you do when I'm there.  But sometimes they don't know I'm listening."
 
OK, so she had real information.  I still didn't say anything.
 
"They say they rub themselves after you've played with them."  Claire looked straight at me now.  "Like I did."
 
It was time to say something.  "Claire, you're not those girls.  They're older."  It was the best I could come up with there in the Twilight Zone.  I wasn't too clear headed.
 
"But I FELT like they say they feel when you touch them." she insisted.
 
"But you're my sister." I reminded her.
 
She got that look in her eye that I recognized as the danger look.  She had that look when she was about to rat me out to Mom or Dad about something I'd done that she knew I'd get in trouble for.  It was that "I'm going to make you pay" look.
 
"Which is why I can't understand why you look so hot to me right now." I added hurriedly.
 
The fact that Claire was only fifteen saved my bacon.  She bought that line like a little pig opening up the door when the wolf knocks.  Not that I was the wolf or anything.  I just wanted her to calm down and think straight.  Which is why I was completely unprepared for what she said next.
 
"If I rubbed myself, would you rub yourself too?  So I could see you?"  She asked that like she was asking a doctor just exactly how long she had to live.  She was afraid of the answer, but really wanted to know.
 
Do you remember those years when if a boy touched a girl she screamed about cooties?  They grow out of that, but there is a time when they are both attracted to and repelled by boys all at the same time.  That love/hate relationship intensifies as puberty gets a really good Rotweiller grip on a girl's body, and she wants things to happen with a boy, but not too personally.
 
That's where I had made my reputation.  
 
I was the guy who would do things for and with them that were scary, but safe at the same time, and then stop when it got too scary.  A lot of girls wanted to engage in masturbation while I did the same thing ... two or three feet away.  Four or five girls had made that kind of deal with me in the past.  Girls really liked to do that for some reason.  It's like they could be all naughty and get off, but be safe about it because they were touching themselves, and I would be touching myself, so there would be no cootie transfer possible, so to speak.  And it was fun for me too, cause I knew where their hand was, and what it was doing ... and touching.  Usually, after a girl did that with me, we didn't go out any more.  They'd see me in the hall or somewhere and blush and get all shy and embarrassed.  But that was OK, cause there was always another girl.
 
So when my little sister suggested that we masturbate together, I figured she would get her curiosity satisfied, and then get embarrassed and that would be it.  I wouldn't blackmail her or anything, but she wouldn't know that, so it might even make it easier to get along with her in the future.
 
Right?
 
I said "OK."


CHAPTER TWO
 
So there we were. My sister and I had just agreed to masturbate in front of each other. Now that's weird, any way that you look at it. It was weird because she was my sister. But it was also weird because, as she stood up, pushed down her shorts and pulled her shirt over her head, I was with a naked teenaged girl for the first time ever. I had done a lot of fooling around with girls - don't get me wrong - but none of them had ever been naked. And I had never been naked in front of a girl either. PARTS of me had been naked, but never the whole shebang. 
 
So it was surreal as I got up and pushed my skivvies down and suddenly I was naked with my sister. Of course my peter didn't think so. As soon as I saw her luscious soft titties and that fluff of pussy hair I had the hardest boner of my life. It just screamed to be stroked and I found my hand wrapped around it before I realized I had even done that. 
 
Claire was looking at me. "Wait for me" she panted. "Don't start without me." She went over to my bed and got up on it. She leaned back against the headboard and then leaned forward and grabbed my pillow to put behind her. I was standing there, my hand wrapped firmly around my prick, squeezing it hard, because that suddenly felt really good. 
 
Claire looked at me and there was a sort of pleading in her eyes.  She didn't have to tell me how vulnerable she felt, because it took her a few seconds to get up the courage to bare herself to her first boy ... her brother.  And, when Claire drew her knees up and let them fall apart, exposing her whole pussy to me, I thought I'd shoot right then and there. I squeezed harder. It had never felt this good before. 
 
I saw the fear and nervousness fade in her eyes as I didn't laugh or say something to put her down or whatever she expected her big brother to do that he didn't.
 
"It's pretty," she said, as she slid her hand over her abdomen, toward that beautiful pussy. She was staring at what was in my hand.
 
Even though I didn't want to think about my penis as being "pretty", I wasn't about to get into an argument about semantics. 
 
"It's big too." she breathed. 
 
Now THAT'S what I'm talking about! 
 
She curled up all but three fingers and then covered her pussy with them. I think I moaned. I hated to see that beautiful pussy covered up. Then she started doing little circles with those three fingers and her head went back, like she was staring up at the ceiling. 
 
"Ohhh Bobby this feels so good," she moaned. Her head tilted back down and she looked at me. If you're ever in the jungle, and you suddenly come face to face with a hungry tiger or something, you will see the look I saw in her eyes. I knew if I jerked more than twice I'd blow spooge all over the place. 
 
Then she let her middle finger bend and it disappeared inside her. 
 
That was it for me. I felt semen trying like crazy to get out of my cock, but I didn't want it to be over so fast. I squeezed hard and felt like my head was going to explode. Drips of white oozed out of my piss hole and started stringing out, like somebody was trying to lower sheets to the ground to climb down during an escape. 
 
"Ooooo" sighed Claire, her eyes riveted to that long string of cum. 
 
Now I had this problem of not wanting it to end so soon, but wanting to spurt so bad I couldn't stand it.  I shouldn't have done it, but something just made me. I took two steps toward her and jacked on my cock four or five times fast. Cum rocketed out of my prick and arced through the air to land on her arm and stomach. I felt the second shot coming and leaned my hips forward about the same time she realized what had happened. I thought she'd scream at me, but her eyes went wide and her hand blurred as she rubbed her clitty hard and fast. There came a sound from her throat I didn't think a human being could actually make and I realized she was cumming with me. My second shot splatted right on her left breast, making a line across the nipple. 
 
I was so excited that I couldn't even aim the last two or three shots and they landed mostly on the bedspread beside her, or dripped to the floor. I got so light-headed that I had to let go of my cock and lean forward to support myself on the bed. That put my head only a foot and a half from her pussy as she continued rubbing it frantically. She let her knees fall to the sides as her butt jerked upwards and her finger flashed in and out of her pussy.
 
I could smell her. 
 
She smelled fantastic. 
 
Just then she dragged her finger out of her and, just before those perfect pink lips closed up again, I could see into her pussy tunnel. It was wet in there. Clear liquid was seeping out between her lips. 
 
"I can feel you breathing on me" she panted. "That was so hot!" 
 
I just leaned and panted on her pussy. Finally I could get enough air to talk. "You should shave your pussy hair off." I gasped. "That would look sooo good." 
 
I have to mention here that Claire was the kind of girl who gets energized by an orgasm. When she has one she's all perky and happy and full of energy. She sat up and suddenly her bare titty was inches from my face. There was a drip of my cum hanging from the nipple. 
 
"You really think so?" she asked excitedly. 
 
"Oh yeah" I groaned. "But then I'd want to touch it, so maybe you better not." 
 
"Ick!" she said suddenly. "You got your stuff all over me." She touched one finger to the drip on her nipple. "It was warm at first, but now it's getting cold. Let me up. I need to go clean up." 
 
I staggered back, my dick still dripping spunk and she bounced up off the bed like it was the first day after school was out for the summer. She grabbed her shirt and panties and, after peeking out of the door to make sure the coast was clear, darted into the bathroom across the hall. 
 
I got stuck cleaning up the mess. In the end I just wadded up the bed spread and used it to wipe everything else up. Then I put my shorts back on and took it to the laundry room and got the washer going.  I didn't even care if my mom appeared and wanted to know what the heck I was doing washing clothes after bedtime.  But she didn't, and I just went back and fell into bed.  I had a hard time getting to sleep because I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind.  I couldn't believe we'd done it.
 
Or that I'd loved doing it so much.
 
Claire had this amazing ability to take things in stride. Something pretty momentous had happened, as far as I was concerned. But at breakfast the next morning she acted just like usual. No blushes. No furtive looks. No apparent guilty conscience. She was just Claire.   In fact, all day long she was just ... Claire.
 
Which is why, that night, after Mom and Dad had gone to bed, I was actually surprised when she slipped through the partially opened door of my room again. And again she was only wearing panties and a T shirt. 
 
She had that look in her eye again. The one that made the hairs stand up all over me. And she had a magazine in her hand. It was one of those magazines for women.  I don't even remember what it was called.  Today it would be like 'Seventeen' or something.   
 
"Look at this." she whispered. She held the magazine out and the great big headline to the story read "IS SEX GOOD FOR YOUR SKIN?" 
 
"So?" I responded. What was I supposed to do, read it? I was too busy staring at the two little points on the front of her T shirt that told me she wasn't wearing anything under it again. Suddenly I smelled that odor again. Her odor. She was excited! I mean ... that way ... you know ... like last night. 
 
"It says that semen has all these things in it that are good for your skin. They actually say you should RUB IT IN!" Her whisper was really loud and I shushed her, looking anxiously at the door. 
 
She looked too. "They won't hear anything. A bomb wouldn't wake them up. I dropped a pan in the kitchen one night and it was loud enough to wake the dead and they slept right through it." 
 
"Yeah, but do you have ANY idea what they'd do to us if they caught us?" I asked. 
 
Claire stood up and looked around. Her pony tail swished in the air.
 
"What? We're not doing anything. We're just talking." 
 
"What do you want Claire?" I asked. It was a legitimate question. 
 
"I want to do it again." 
 
"What we did last night?" I thought her curiosity had been satisfied and I'd never see hide nor hair of her naked body again. 
 
Boy was I wrong. You remember that 'Claire takes things in stride' thing I told you? 
 
"Yeah," she said, breathing deeply. 
 
It was strange, looking at my sister and thinking 'Man, I'd like to see her naked again.' But hey, I'm a guy, right? 
 
"OK" I said. 
 
She almost yipped as she jumped up and down. That did the most amazing things to her unfettered breasts and they wobbled beautifully inside her T shirt. That shirt was the first thing to go and those wonderful soft looking pink tipped breasts came into view again. I got hard almost instantly and my briefs jutted out obscenely. 
 
Then she took her panties off and the breath caught in my chest. 
 
She had shaved. 
 
And, like I had told her ... it made me want to touch it. I had the insane urge to lick my sister's pussy. It made my hands twitch. 
 
Claire stood there, looking beautiful, biting her lower lip as she waited for me to say something. 
 
"Fuck ... it's beautiful" I blurted. 
 
You have to cut me a little slack here. I had touched several pussies, but most of that was groping in a back seat somewhere, and only once had I gotten my hand inside a girl's panties. She creamed almost immediately and then got scared and made me take my hand out of her pants. So, while I had this reputation for being all knowing and all that crap, I was looking at something I'd only seen once before, and even then it had been mostly covered by her fingers. Even though she was standing with her legs together, I could see the protrusion of her pussy lips in a little hollow kind of place right up high between her thighs. And they did look like lips! They were pressed together, like my mother's lips are - the ones on her face - when she's pissed off about something. But they were also fatter and so pale as to be almost white. They just BEGGED to be kissed and licked. 
 
Claire was excited, but not at the same level I was. "Really? You think so? It was really weird shaving. I was afraid I was going to cut myself and I was so nervous it took half an hour." 
 
"Lie down." I suggested "I want to see better." 
 
My poor trusting sister lay down on the bed as I got off of it to make room for her, and she splayed her legs wide, with no hesitation this time, no shame whatsoever. She was looking at the lump in my shorts. She drew her knees up so her feet were flat on the bed. 
 
Then she made the fateful comment: "Aren't you going to get undressed too?" 
 
OK, I know it's actually a fateful question, rather than a fateful comment, but the point is it's actually her fault that, when I climbed onto the bed, my rock hard and leaking prick was naked and ready to do what it was intended to do. I wasn't planning on doing anything other than rubbing the skin off of it, but I steadfastly maintain that I'd have left my briefs on to look at her pussy if she hadn't suggested I take them off. 
 
But I did take them off.  
 
So, when I got up there and crawled between her legs, my prick was stiff as a board and pointing right at her, like one of those hunting dogs that points at the bird hidden in the grass.  I leaned in and saw those soft kissable lips up close and ... well ... I kissed them. 
 
What I actually did was smash my face into her mons and bite them with my lips. My tongue came out and slithered right between those tightly closed lips and I sucked, all at the same time. 
 
Claire froze. I mean she went rigid like she was actually a department store mannequin or something. 
 
Then she unfroze and her thighs slammed together on my ears as her hands grabbed two handfuls of my hair. And her knees went back apart like they were operated by springs or something. I felt the hands ripping my hair out by the roots begin to push me away, and then, a split part of a split second later they reversed course and pulled instead of pushing.  I felt the bed depress as she dug her heels in and she PUSHED her pussy up into my face at the same time she jerked my hair hard enough to make me grunt with pain. 
 
I will never forget the sound that came out of her throat. I've heard it lots of times since then, and it sounds remarkably similar regardless of what woman makes it. It was a whoosh of air that something was trying to cut off, and that 'something' made a groaning whining sound that made my dick jump and dribble. 
 
All this was happening at the same time my mind was going about a thousand miles an hour. I had lots of thoughts, among them "Oh shit, what have I done now?" and "She's going to scream and Mom and Dad are going to bust through the door and kill me!" and "MAN SHE TASTES GOOD!" and I was noticing the texture and smoothness of her mound and those lips, which all of a sudden weren't so tight and weren't so closed up. And finally, I was suddenly afraid that I'd scared her so much that she'd peed her pants. 
 
Well, not her pants, but you know what I mean. That was because there was this rush of wet against my face. As it turned out, she was so primed, thinking about rubbing off in front of me, that the sensations I caused in her caused her orgasm to burst on her unawares. For both of us. 
 
Well, after she entered that orgasm and pulled my hair out, she let go. I pulled my face back and saw a pussy that had undergone some changes. It wasn't flesh colored any more. It was red, and her pussy lips were open now, showing me that dark hole that went up inside her. And it glistened with all that moisture. I looked up and saw her looking back at me with eyes so wide that I could see white all around the dark centers. She was gasping for air, her breasts moving up and down two or three inches. 
 
"Do that AGAIN!" she panted. 
 
Like I said, Claire took things in stride. 
 
I stared at her pussy and saw that mythical thing I'd heard so much about, and managed to actually touch, that one time when I got my hand in that girl's pants.  It was her clit.  I was amazed.  I didn't know what to compare it to back then.  Since then, though, I think the closest thing that comes to mind is that arcade game where there are a bunch of holes and you have a hammer or club and a mole head pops up out of one of the holes and you have to try to hit it before it pops back down.  Well, her clit looked like a little tiny mole head just starting to poke out of a really tight hole.  
 
I knew that was a prime place to touch a girl and I'd always wanted to play with a clit.  So I leaned down and clamped my lips around it and sucked.
 
I lost some more hair.
 
She was slippery.  I knew now that she hadn't peed, and that whatever that slippery tangy tasting stuff was, it was a good thing that meant she was having a good time.  She started moaning and saying my name over and over.  She was getting louder but I didn't care because I was having the time of my short life.
 
We both got way too excited.  I know that now.  But then, in the heat of the situation, you just don't think.  She squirted my face again and told me she loved me and to never stop and somehow I sort of ended up on top of her and somehow my prick sort of went in her a little.  
 
OK, that's not true.  When I was wiggling around on top of her it was because she pulled me up for a kiss.  She took my wet slippery face in stride too and it was during that kiss that it felt good to rub my prick against her, so I did that, and it was while I was doing that that I felt heat all around the tip of my cock.  And that just felt so good I pushed.  I didn't MEAN to.  But when I pushed, what with all that slippery stuff coating her pussy mouth, my cock just slid right in and when I pushed there was this resistance, but then it disappeared and I slid in farther.
 
That was when she hissed and went "OooOOOWWWWW BOBBEEEEEE!!!"
 
We both knew I had just popped her cherry.  We weren't so stupid as to wonder what was going on.  I was half buried in her and it hadn't felt very good on her part.  I wasn't complaining.  For me it had felt fabulous.  But still, just the knowledge that you have just popped your sister's cherry has a pretty big impact on you.  I know it had a big impact on me.  I stopped.
 
Claire was still making these little "I'm not very happy any more" sounds and was king of wiggling her butt around, maybe like she was trying to get comfortable or something.  Or trying to get away from me.  And what she was actually doing was kind of sliding back and forth on my prick a little bit.  I suddenly realized her hands were on my sides.
 
Then some more of that impact on me happened.  My prick notified my brain that only half of it was nice and warm and buried in yummy hot flesh.  And my brain called to my back muscles and yelled "Give 'em a little help!"  So my back muscles bunched up and I jammed another two inches of hard cock into my sister's pussy.
 
Now, a piece of my brain knew that was the wrong thing to do.  But it was a little like that thing where you're supposed to pat your head with one hand and rub your stomach with the other hand all at the same time.  The brain knows what it's supposed to do, but usually something else happens instead.  And my brain was telling me to push hard, but reminding me I had no business porking the shit out of my sister all at the same time.  And the fact that Claire made it sound like a cat convention, what with all her hissing and spitting and yowling, made it pretty clear that her brain was in agreement that it was time to vacate her pussy.
 
I got most of the way out.  Then that other part of my brain missed all that nice warm pussy flesh and told me to get back in there.  So I did that, and was immediately rewarded with that wonderful feeling that nothing else even comes close to, where your prick is surrounded by hot, clasping pussy flesh.
 
Long story short, there was this little war going on in my head, and the result was the ... ebb and flow, if you will ... of my little trooper.  He advanced and retreated until he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to go forward or pull back.  
 
It was about then that I realized the cat convention had disbanded, and Claire had joined the group of women who made those noises in motel rooms, or on X-rated videos.  And she was good at it too!  She sounded like she really meant it.
 
I know this sounds a little disjointed in the telling.  But I was prick deep in losing my virginity, while taking my sister's virginity, and my mind wasn't quite at a hundred percent.  My memory wasn't quite at a hundred percent after it was over either.
 
Anyway, the next thing I remember was when her fingernails were digging for oil in my back and she was whining and moaning and she hit the note that was hooked to the sonic switch in my balls, because my prick, which had been so trustworthy up to then, started spurting spunk while it was still buried in her belly.
 
I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that was a run-on sentence, and that no self respecting author would use one in a decent story.  
 
Well, I had just fucked my own sister, popping her only cherry.  Moreover I had just spurted her full of incestuous brother spunk and there was no way in the world she was on any birth control.  So that means I can't lay any claim at all to being self respecting.  And since this story starts out with incest, I can't claim it's decent either.  So all I can tell you is that the whole incident was like a long run-on sentence that kept going and going and dragging me along with it until it abruptly ended.  Leaving me breathless, I might add.  Just like a run-on sentence.
 
Claire was lying under me gasping for air.  I pushed up off of her, hating to feel her body separating from me, and looked down at her.  It was another one of those moments of truth.  I had just popped my sister's cherry, without her asking for it.  It had hurt.  I had filled her up with baby makers.  So I really couldn't expect her to be happy about it.  And this was her first real chance to tell me what a selfish, perverted, unkind jerk I really was.
 
She had this stupid grin on her face.   "Do that AGAIN!" she panted. 
 
Did I mention before that Claire always took things in stride?

==-

Well, now you know what happened with Claire ... how a pure accident led to something that was not quite accidental, but not intentional either. I still couldn't believe I had packed my sister's pussy plumb full of my seed. And on top of that she actually said "Thank you." when we were done. I'd had a pretty good time too, and I told her so. I also told her I was interested in doing it again. She gave me a brilliant smile and said "We'll see. I need to see if I get my next period first." 
 
Well, that was sobering. I hadn't really thought a whole lot about that possibility. But then what teens do when they're ass deep in hormones and fucking like crazy? But she seemed to be taking the possibility I'd knocked her up in stride, just like she took everything in stride, so I decided not to worry about it. 
 
The next Friday night was a sleepover night for the posse. They had those every month, sometimes even more frequently, and in the past I had tried to make myself scarce when they were all over there doing the pajama thing. It wasn't that I didn't like looking at them in their nightgowns. I liked that a LOT! But they invariably picked on me and teased me and generally made themselves a pain in the ass. 
 
But there had been times when I was there at the same time they were, and I almost always heard something interesting in their chatter. Especially if I actually tried to listen. I had no idea if Claire would cop to what we'd done, but I knew if she did it would be ... interesting.  I also knew that I'd probably be dead within a week if she did spill the beans.
 
So this time I planned on staying home. In fact I went farther than that. Claire's room shared a wall with mine, and her closet was beside my closet. I knew she never closed her closet doors. They were those folding type doors with louvers in them, and she just left them folded to the side. So I figured that if I made a few well placed holes in the closet wall, I might be able to hear what they were saying if they were in her room. Of course they gathered and lounged all over the house, but I figured if they talked about sex it would be in the privacy of her room. 
 
I was right. 
 
I knew she was going to tell them at supper. She was all excited .... more excited than she should have been for a routine visit of the posse. After supper I got her in the hallway and told her "Don't do anything stupid tonight." 
 
"Why Bobby! Whatever are you talking about?" she grinned. She actually grinned at me! 
 
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You tell them what we did and it will be all over the neighborhood by morning, and parents will be talking to Mom and Dad before breakfast." 
 
She stuck her cute little nose up in the air. "Don't you worry about it. I know what I'm doing." 
 
I leaned over her. I had her by at least two inches. It wasn't like she couldn't go anywhere, but she'd have had to duck to one side. "You just keep your mouth closed." I warned her. 
 
My mother scared both of us to death. "Bobby!" she said sternly. "Quit harassing your sister." She had come into the hallway and we had been so centered on each other that we hadn't noticed. I wondered how much she'd heard. 
 
Claire wasn't worried though. "Thank you Mommy" she said in that syrupy sweet voice she used to get what she wanted. "He was being mean to me." 
 
"Why can't you two love each other?" said my Mom in an exasperated voice. 
 
If only she knew. 
 
But it didn't sound like she did, so I relaxed and backed off. But my ear was plastered to the three little holes I had drilled in the wall when I knew the girls were in Claire's room. 
 
And I was right about Claire telling them too. Except I was wrong about how she did it. She waited until the last one was there, and they all trooped into her room and slammed the door. I had to stand up in the closet. I had decided the best place to drill the holes was right behind all her clothes, where she wouldn't be likely to see any light shining through them or anything. 
 
"Close the door!" I heard Claire say.  I could hear the excitement in her voice.  "I have something special to tell you."
 
I was sweating buckets and not because it was hot in my closet. 


CHAPTER THREE		
 
"You won't BELIEVE what happened to me!" she started out. Then there were the obligatory guesses. I couldn't sort out the voices, but they ranged from "Your Mom caved and let you get that bikini you wanted!" to "You flunked that math test, didn't you." Not one of them guessed that she'd lost her virginity. 
 
After she let them guess the wrong things for a minute or so, she whispered, in a loud whisper. "I got my cherry popped!" 
 
Dead silence. At least for ten seconds. 
 
Then it was bedlam, with all of them screaming like only fifteen year old girls can scream. 
 
Then there were the rapid fire questions. "Who was it?" "What was it like" "Are you lying to us?" "Did it hurt?" "WHO WAS IT?" 
 
That last question got asked a lot. Finally it quieted down. I could just see Claire standing there grinning, holding court, waiting for the masses to quiet so she could tell them all the lurid details. This was it. My life would be over. I'd be sent to reform school. 
 
Claire's voice piped up again. "I can't tell you who did it." 
 
There was a chorus of complaints. 
 
My sister went on. "Really, I can't. I swore to keep it secret. The guy could get in a lot of trouble because of my age." That made sense to them, but the other questions were re-asked. Claire began what sounded like a prepared speech. "It was wonderful. Really. It felt sooo good I wanted it to last forever. And he was so gentle with me, and he really cared about how I felt. If I wasn't so scared about getting pregnant I'd let him do it again." 
 
Monique spoke up. "You mean he didn't even use a rubber?" She sounded incredulous. 
 
Claire defended herself. "It all happened kind of fast. I mean we weren't planning on doing it, and then it kind of happened and besides that he felt so warm inside me I don't think I'd like it if he used a rubber anyway." 
 
Suzie was next. "Did he ... you know ... squirt in you?" 
 
Claire sighed. "Oh yes and that was almost the best part. His ... thing ... jumped each time it squirted and I could feel it and it was hot and wet feeling and it was just yummy." 
 
Marge chimed in . "I can't believe this. You've only been allowed to date for a month. Come on Claire, who WAS it?" 
 
"Even if I did tell you ... and I promised not to ... you wouldn't believe me anyway. He's ... older." She couldn't resist giving them clues. I had relaxed a little when she refused to tell them, but they were sharp girls, and if she gave them too many clues they were smart enough to do a little investigating and find out who she'd been seen out with. 
 
"How come you didn't tell us you were going on a date?" That was Marge again. She sounded suspicious to me. 
 
"Yeah, if you weren't planning on doing it why wouldn't you tell us you were going out?" Knobby Robby finally made her debut as an inquisitor. 
 
Claire was caught off guard. "Well ... um ... it wasn't a date exactly. I mean we didn't plan on anything to happen." 
 
Marge bored in. "So you met this guy, and didn't plan on anything, and skipped the first kiss, and the petting and went straight to getting it on?! What's going on Claire? Come on, give!" 
 
The pressure was growing. I could feel the tension through the little holes in the wall. I was sweating again. 
 
Claire tried to buck up. "It doesn't MATTER who it was!" she yelled - entirely too loud in my opinion. "All that matters is that it happened, and I'm glad it happened, and you all just HAVE to try it!" 
 
More bedlam as five girls squealed and screamed and yelled about how they were going to do this, or not going to do that, and who would they do it with anyway and on and on. 
 
When it finally quieted down Claire said "I might know somebody you could do it with." Her attitude was like she hadn't listened to any of their objections. If the Sheriff said they were going to get their cherries popped, then that was what they were going to do. 
 
Donna spoke up for the first time. "Who is it?" 
 
Claire was still trying to control things, though. "I'm not going to tell you until you all agree to do it." 
 
I had been about to leave my closet, because I was getting tired. I had been all tensed up, listening to what I was sure was going to be my downfall. But her offer to find them a hard prick had me glued to the wall. I mean it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who she was talking about. Not to me anyway. As far as I knew, she only had access to one rigid prick, and it was ... mine. 
 
I was suddenly and urgently interested in what would come next. 
 
I'm here to tell you Claire had an iron grip on her posse. It only took her forty-five minutes to get them all to agree to lose their virginity to a man of HER choice. I also learned that they had some kind of solemn oath that they took when something really important was in the offing. They all repeated a bunch of words that I couldn't understand because they weren't quite saying them all at the same time, and then Donna demanded again "OK, now who is it?" 
 
There was a period of silence that about killed me and then Claire said "Bobby." 
 
I expected pandemonium again, but it was strangely quiet. 
 
Marge suddenly blurted "I KNEW IT!" 
 
Claire said "I didn't say I did it with Bobby. I said YOU GUYS are going to do it with Bobby." 
 
Suzie said "Oh Claire ... I don't know about this." 
 
"You swore!" accused Claire. 
 
"Yeah, but that was before I knew it would be your brother." 
 
Marge broke in. "I kind of like the idea. I've thought he was cute for a long time." 
 
THEN the pandemonium set in again. I heard, variously, "How do you know he'll do it?" and "OH, he'll do it OK" and "Bobby? I can't imagine doing it with Bobby!" and "OK Margie, since you think he's so cute you have to be first." and "Bobby? I can't do it with Bobby!" and "I guess doing it with Bobby wouldn't be so bad." and a whole bunch more. 
 
The only one I never heard say a single word was Knobby Robby. 
 
By then I was all cramped up. When they started talking about planning dates based on their cycles, and whether to use rubbers or not and all that stuff I limped out of my closet and lay down on the bed. 
 
I hadn't even felt it happen, but I was hard as a rock. 
 
Now I have to tell you that, despite what I'd heard through that wall, I didn't actually think anything was going to happen with the posse. I mean that was all just talk, right? But a guy can dream, and I'd seen enough of the posse in bathing suits and pajamas to be able to bring up some images that made my stiff dick really happy. 
 
I also knew that, with the posse there, Claire wouldn't be coming into my room for anything involving my dick, so I started stroking it slowly, thinking of Donna and that picture in the Playboy of the other Donna. 
 
So imagine my surprise when my door opened and Claire walked in like she owned the place. 
 
Her eyes got big as she saw what I was doing. I had just pushed my shorts down enough to get to Mr. Happy and was just lying there on my back, my hand wrapped firmly around him. My first thought was that member(s) of the posse might be right behind her. I stuffed my dork back in my shorts and half sat up. 
 
"Shit Claire!" I gasped. "You scared the crap out of me!" I was caught between sitting up and lying down and rocked on the bed until I got my legs involved and sat all the way up. 
 
"What are you doing?" she gasped back. 
 
I think it was one of those rhetorical questions. She knew exactly what I was doing. She'd seen me do it before, after all. 
 
"You need to learn to knock." I grumbled. 
 
"You're supposed to save that for me," she said in a loud whisper. 
 
Now where did that come from? The last I heard was we 'might' do it again some time ... if she felt like it, and wasn't pregnant. 
 
I remembered that I wasn't supposed to know anything about the conversation she'd just had with the posse. "What do you want. You can't want to do that with all the girls here." I said. 
 
That reminded her of why she'd come barging into my room in the first place. 
 
"Um ... I wanted to ask you something," she said. She looked uncertain about how to go on. 
 
"OK ..." I prompted. 
 
"Well, you know what we did, right?" She looked like she actually wanted me to tell her I remembered. She was just full of stupid questions that night. But she went on. "Um ... what if somebody else wanted to do that, but not with their boyfriend? Like, maybe for practice or something.  I mean would you help them learn how to do it?" 
 
There was another stupid question. What guy would say "No, I don't think I'm interested in getting in a girl's panties if she doesn't want to hang on me like a third arm, and talk about marriage some day and tell the world I'm hers." 
 
But I didn't want to sound needy, so I said "I guess it would depend on who the girl was." Then I added. "Why would a girl want to do that anyway?" 
 
Now I didn't think that was a stupid question, but Claire acted like it was. 
 
"Why did I want to know what it was like? It sure wasn't because you're such a stud or anything. I just wanted to know what if felt like." 
 
Oh, so now she was just experimenting, and all that stuff about how hot it would be to see me jack off was forgotten. As I recalled things, I'd almost raped her, except that it turned out that after that first little split second of shock when my mouth touched her she wasn't in the mood to resist. And now, somehow, she had decided that she LET me fuck her because she was curious.  
 
Who understands the way girls think? 
 
So I tried to act 'normal'. "OK, OK, so who is it?" 
 
"You'll do it then?" she asked. Claire was really into getting commitment before she gave out all the information. She'd probably grow up to sell insurance or something. 
 
"I might ... depending on who it is." I insisted. 
 
She looked exasperated. The Sheriff wasn't used to people questioning her authority. 
 
"What if it was one of the girls in the posse?" she asked. 
 
I tried to look surprised. "Well, most of them are kind of cute I guess it would depend on which one." I had to act normal, right? 
 
Claire didn't know what to do now. She looked at me with a frown. Then she looked behind her, at the closed door. "What if it was Marge?" she asked finally. 
 
I made my eyebrows go up. I was so proud of myself. "Marge wants me to screw her?" I asked. 
 
Claire's frown deepened. "You make it sound so dirty!" she said. I didn't find out until later that "screwing" was something dirty people did. Nice people 'made love' as far as Claire was concerned. They might 'fuck', but you could only call it that while you were actually doing it. 
 
Like I said, who understands the way girls think? 
 
I decided that Claire was too much in charge here. So I went on defense. "Did you tell them what we did?" I whispered fiercely. Or at least what I thought would sound fierce. 
 
Her reaction was fabulous. "No! Of course not! Why would I do that?" she asked, trying to look just as injured as I was trying to sound fierce. 
 
"Why all this sudden interest in ... me? By Marge, I mean." I asked. 
 
"Well, maybe it came up in conversation that I wasn't a virgin any more," she said, looking off to one side of me. She couldn't quite meet my gaze. "But I didn't tell them how it happened or anything like that. I just said I liked it, and Marge said she might want to find out what it was like too." 
 
She was good. I had to give her that. If I hadn't listened at the wall I might have bought it. But I knew that Claire didn't want to be the only one who knew what it was like to have a stiff cock in her pussy, and that if the whole posse did it too then she wouldn't have to feel like she was a pervert or something. At least that's what I thought. 
 
"So I was good?" I asked. 
 
Claire looked confused for a few seconds until she realized she had complimented me on my lovemaking skills, such as they were. I could just hear the gears turning in her pretty little head. If she said what she wanted to say, it would probably be something like "IT was good. All you were was a stiff prick. Doing it with a dildo would be just as good except your prick is warm." That's what a normal sister might say to her brother. 
 
Come to think of it, if a brother and sister have had sex, can they be called normal at all from then on? Would they argue about sex the same way they argue about chores? 
 
Sorry, I digress. 
 
She didn't say that. Instead she turned on the charm. "Well of course you were good. I mean you were my first, and I don't have anybody to compare you to, but I had a really good time Bobby. And I think Marge would have a good time too if you were maybe a little more gentle or something. Come on, wouldn't you like to see Margie naked?" 
 
Another stupid question. But guys are stupid too sometimes, and that question reoriented my thinking. Of COURSE I 'd like to see Large Marge naked. Those huge tits must be mouth watering. I'd dreamed of seeing those tits for a long time. 
 
I remembered to use restraint. "Well, I guess that would be cool." I decided to turn on some charm too. "You were really beautiful." 
 
She actually blushed! Score one for the males of the species. 
 
"So you'll do it?" she was eager now. 
 
"When?" I asked. I had to get ready for this. If I didn't want to squirt instantly - and I knew I would - I'd have to beat off before we did any fooling around. 
 
"Now," she said. "Tonight." 
 
Shit! That took me by surprise. My cock had softened while we talked. But it spoke up now. It said "Yes! OK! Bring it on!" What came out of my mouth was an astonished "OK." 
 
She said "Cool", and turned around to leave. 
 
I panicked. My mind was screaming "NO! Wait, I need to get ready for this! What about Mom and Dad? What about birth control? Do I need to take a shower? What about cologne? Should I shave?" That last part was pretty silly. I shaved once every month or so just so I could say I did, but leaving the blade out of the razor wouldn't have made any difference to the final result. 
 
But she was gone and the door was closed and I was left there with the shakes, wondering if I'd just made a horrible mistake. 
 
I'm not sure Marge was as eager to lose her virginity as Claire let on, because it was a long time before there was a timid knock at my door. Long enough that I had time to calm down and think about things. I mean how different was this from what I did with the older girls? I'd just play with Marge and if she had a good time and wanted more I'd do more. And if she froze up then that was OK too. She really was beautiful, so it was a win/win situation regardless of how far things went. Even if all we did was kiss and grope a little it would be OK. I'd beaten off after dates plenty of times. 
 
I arranged myself artfully on the bed, lying on my side, holding my head up with one hand, the other hand draped across my stomach. I saw an issue of "True Detective" at my Aunt's house, and it had a picture of a guy lying like that with a babe looking at him like she wanted to jump his bones.  I was going for suave and debonair. 
 
Marge stuck her head in the door. Just her head. "Can I talk to you?" she asked. 
 
"Sure." I said suavely. 
 
She came in and stopped. She had on pajamas with pictures of Barbie on them. Barbie was another fantasy of mine, so that was just fine. 
 
"You're half naked!" she squeaked. 
 
She didn't sound like a girl who was full of lust and who couldn't wait to have me climb between what I was sure were her soft, flawless thighs. 
 
"Well, uh ... I sleep this way." I managed. Suave and debonair flew right out the window. I made a hasty grab at the tail end of debonair. "You've seen me like this at the pool lots of times." 
 
"Oh. Yeah." she relaxed a little. She didn't move though. I thought I had managed to coax debonair back into the room, so I patted the bed beside my stomach. "Have a seat. What do you want to talk about?" 
 
This is a game that adults play all the time. Both the man and the woman know what they want. They want good, sweaty, hot sex, with a juicy orgasm at the end. But for some reason they aren't honest about it in the beginning. They have to play the game of trying to convince each other that sex is the last thing on their mind, and that nice, unsexy conversation is what this is really all about. I think kids learn that from adults without actually thinking about it. Like through osmosis or something. 
 
What I really wanted to say was "Get naked baby, and let's do the bump ugly!" But what I said was "Have a seat. What do you want to talk about?" 
 
Marge had learned the game too, whether she knew it or not. She came a few steps closer and asked, "Do you like me?" 
 
This, from a girl who had tormented me on every occasion she could for the last three or four years. 
 
My response made about as much sense. "Sure, you're OK for a girl." 
 
I said we learned the game by osmosis. But we weren't any good at the game. Being good at the game takes practice, and neither Large Marge nor I had much of that. 
 
She was incensed. "Bobby! That's a horrible thing to say to a girl!" 
 
I realized my mistake, and that debonair had fled the premises once again. It's probably good that it did, because my next response was based on common sense. 
 
"Look Marge, you're a beautiful girl, and I like you a lot. I'm glad about it every time you come over. I didn't pay that much attention to you when we were younger, but you've really grown up and I really like being around you." 
 
Who needs suave or debonair when actual compliments are better anyway? And I found suddenly that they were true too. I DID like being around her. She was smart and she really was gorgeous, with that short blond hair that framed her pixie face and those lovely blue eyes that I'd never actually noticed before. And her breasts were ... well they were impressive. Even covered up they were impressive. I remembered why she'd come there and my cock began to do things in my shorts. 
 
She chose that moment to sit tentatively on the edge of the bed. She had to crane her neck to look at me, but at least she couldn't see the evidence of the arousal she caused. I didn't think she was quite ready for that yet. 
 
"I don't know about this," she said, to no one in particular. 
 
"Look Marge," I said. "You don't have to do everything Claire tells you to do." 
 
Oops, a little slip there. I was afraid she'd catch it and want to know how I knew Claire was telling her to do this. But she didn't. She had too many other things on her mind. I had learned that telling a girl she didn't have to do anything gave her the confidence to try something she knew she probably shouldn't try, but wanted to anyway.  I didn't know if that would work with Marge, but I suddenly hoped so.  Up close I could see that Barbie's face had a nipple under it, and that nipple was sticking out, making Barbie's face stick out too. That pretty well finished the job of making Mr. Happy all ready to ... be happy. 
 
"Really?" she replied. This poor girl was brainwashed. Claire's approval was pretty important to her. 
 
"Really." I said. I'd love to fool around a little. You're gorgeous and I like you, but you don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to." 
 
"But what will I tell them when I go back?" she whined. 
 
"You don't have to tell them anything." I said. "Or you can tell them we did whatever you want to tell them we did." 
 
I'm a guy. Things are simple like that. We lie. I figured girls did too, you know? 
 
"That won't work" she said miserably. "They'll know. Why did I ever say I wanted to do this with you?" 
 
"You said that?" I asked. "Really? I thought Claire just bullied you into it." Another slip of the tongue. But again she missed it. 
 
She looked at me out of the side of her eye, through long, beautiful lashes. "Well, you are cute," she said. Some mystical sense told me she thought I was going to make fun of her. Well, maybe it wasn't all that mystical. After all, every time I'd had anything to do with her in the past I'd made fun of her. She did it to me too. That was who we were. Back then. 
 
But this was now, and so I reached out and touched her cheek with one finger. "Thanks." I said. 
 
She relaxed and I knew I'd scored another point. "So what do we do now?" she asked. 
 
I decided to see just how cute I really was. "Well, why don't you lie down here beside me and kiss me. Then you could talk about the kiss and maybe they'd forget about everything else." 
 
"Fat chance!" she said, but she turned to climb over me. If I'd have been further back she could have just laid down, but Suave was off taking a leak or something and wasn't in the room. 
 
So, naturally, I rolled to my back. 
 
And naturally my rock hard boner made a tent in my shorts that a blind person couldn't miss. 
 
"Ooooo" she said in a voice that was all breathy. She had one hand on my hip, getting ready to climb over me, but she stopped and stared. I realized that Barbie's PJs could have used another button, but I was suddenly very glad they didn't because I got a shot of what made Marge ... Large Marge. Mr. Happy gave a little jump for joy and it looked like I had a squirrel in my pants. 
 
"OOOooooo" she sighed again. 
 
She looked up at me and debonair made one more appearance as I suavely said "You're a stone fox, Margie ... what did you expect?" 
 
Well, apparently when a girl sees that a guy she doesn't actually hate has a boner for her, it pushes one of those hormone buttons that girls have scattered around their bodies. Suddenly she was a lot less anxious and a lot more interested in that kiss I had suggested. She climbed on over and flopped down beside me. I rolled toward her and slid my arm under hers, letting it lie across her waist. Her eyes were big, and she was staring at me with a look that would make any guy feel like he was king of the world. Her lips were slightly open because she was breathing long slow breaths that wouldn't fit through her nostrils. Her lips looked pink and plump and warm and soft and I kissed them. 
 
They WERE warm and soft. 
 
I had a lot of experience with this part. I was a good kisser and I knew it. I knew how to French kiss, and I knew how to do little nibble kisses, and how to kiss the corner of a girl's mouth and her neck and all that stuff. And it was a lot of fun too. I knew right away that Marge, the best looking girl in the whole posse, hadn't had too much experience with kissing. It wasn't that she wasn't any good. She took to it like a duck takes to water. But she enjoyed it SO much that I knew it was new to her. So we necked for like what seemed forever and I had a good time. She did too. She snuggled up against me and the fact that my nasty old boner was poking right into her PJ clad muffy didn't seem to bother her one little bit. I wasn't doing anything with my hands, and maybe that made her feel more secure. 
 
At some point we took a break to breathe. Both of us needed it. She was panting like she'd run up three flights of stairs. I was in a little better shape, having learned how to snatch the odd breath as the position of my lips changed. I already had ample evidence that I was cute enough to swap serious spit with. I decided to try for more. 
 
"You could tell the girls about those kisses ... and how I kissed your breasts ... if you want." 
 
I don't know if debonair was back in the room or not, but after her eyes said "Wow, I'm startled!",  they got ... I don't know ... deep maybe? It's hard to describe, but they looked big enough and blue enough to swim in somehow. 
 
"OK," she said. 
 
But she didn't do anything. 
 
So it was up to me to suavely and debonairly get those luscious orbs naked. I only had one hand, because the other was kind of under me. I tried, but it didn't work. So she rolled to her back and that let me get up a little and bring both hands to bear. She had that look in her eye again, that deep look, so I felt like everything was going well. Something told me not to hurry, and I unbuttoned each button and then went to the next one without spreading the material apart. Then they were all done. I reached out and very slowly pulled the edges apart so that the valley between her breasts was bare. Then something told me to kiss that valley. I think debonair had finally decided he wasn't ashamed of me any more. After I kissed that I kissed her lips again, and then leaned back up to uncover nirvana. 
 
Oh man they were beautiful. They were round and full and had the most luscious pink tips. Her areolas were tiny, and her nipples weren't large either, more like large peas. But they were hard as a rock. 
 
Debonair cringed as I said "OK, I'm going to kiss them now." 
 
Marge said "OK". Had I known enough, I'd have thanked my lucky stars that she didn't roll off that bed and walk out at what had to look like an almost academic approach to kissing her breasts. 
 
And then I didn't kiss them. Not really. I went straight for her left nipple and sucked that baby into my mouth. 
 
It was like I'd stuck her with a pin or something. She gave a strangled "MPFFT" sort of sound and her chest strained up off the bed. Just so's I could say I'd gotten them both I switched nipples and sucked that one too. That got me an "Ohhhhhhhh", which sounded lots better. 
 
Now all you guys out there, and you girls too who play softball, know that you don't just stop at second base. The whole point of the game is to get to home plate. So after kissing and nipple sucking, it's just normal to want to steal to pussy ... so to speak. But I was chicken. Things were going so well, and I was having a hell of a good time, and I didn't want any umpires yelling that I was out, or that the game was called on account of fear or whatever. So I ended up going back to her lips and then used my hands on her breasts and nipples, pinching them and moving those big jugs around on her chest. And I must have pushed another of those hormone buttons somewhere, because her kisses got hotter and hotter and all of a sudden her hand was on mine and it was PUSHING my hand toward where I wanted to go in the worst way. 
 
Believe it or not, I was going too slow! 
 
Marge told me later that after I sucked her nipples she decided right then and there that her virginity was toast. She was ready. But I didn't know it. 
 
I found out when my hand slid under the elastic band of her pajama bottoms and through the fluffiest and softest pussy hair I had ever felt and into a mess of wet that ANY guy would know meant this girl was turned ON! 
 
I speeded things up then. I was getting pretty heated up myself. Wet pussy will do that to a guy. I slid a finger into Margie's virgin pussy and probed deep. She made that strangled sound again, this time in my mouth because I was kissing her as I did it. I sawed my finger in and out, trying to find and rub her clitty, which I knew had to be there. I must have gotten it a few times because she pushed at my chest. 
 
I thought I had gone too far, but Marge shimmied out of her PJs and was suddenly achingly naked. 
 
"I want to try it," she panted. 
 
"Are you sure?" I asked. This was serious stuff now. 
 
"Yes ... please," she said. "I want to be able to tell them about all of it." 
 
My shorts joined Barbie, where they had a ringside seat on Marge's defloration, which actually went very well, in my opinion. I got up over her and almost shot off just looking at her lying there, all blond and big-titted and her legs were open for me and I already knew how wet and slick she was. And when I nudged the tip of my prick between those two plump pink pussy lips of hers and she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed up with her heels, I knew she really did want to try it. 
 
Marge was a natural. She was as hot as asphalt on a July day and she'd rubbed herself almost raw lots of times, though of course I didn't know that then. She'd destroyed her hymen long ago and my adolescent prick fit her like a glove. If anything she was bigger than me. I slid into her like ice cream slides down your throat. And Marge loved to fuck from the git-go. As soon as I was all the way in her she bucked and thrashed and moaned and cried and told me she loved me and all kinds of stuff. 
 
I later found out that she was responsible for three of the other girls deciding to actually let me pop their cherries. 
 
Get this.  They were all out in the hall listening. They'd actually come to see what was taking so long and had been about to knock on the door when she let out a moan they heard clear out in the hallway. I guess girls can tell when a moan is a good moan instead of a bad one, because they all froze and listened to Marge have her very first orgasm caused one hundred percent by my rock hard prick. 
 
And my good looks, of course.
 
It wouldn't be her last. Not by a long shot. But more on that later. Right now my balls are all full and want to cum, just like they did that night. 
 
I did to Marge what you could only call pounding.  I slammed into her again and again, withdrawing only enough to slam forward one more time.  And she loved that rough treatment.  After Margie crashed through an orgasm or three I finally decided I'd done my duty. I should have pulled out of her, but I didn't want to. Instead, I slammed in one last time and held it deep while Mr. Happy upchucked sperm right into her teenage womb. Cumming in Claire had been amazing. This was too, but it was different. It was Large Marge, and while my prick was spitting and seeding her but good, I was lying on those fabulous soft spongy Barbie tits. I wanted to cum like a fire hydrant that somebody lost the wrench to turn off. 
 
Of course it didn't work that way. I collapsed on top of Marge and she grabbed my face and was babbling her thank-you's and kissing me and I'm absolutely sure that if I'd have asked her to marry me at that second she'd have screamed "YES!" at the top of her lungs. 
 
Thankfully, I didn't. But the girls in the hall heard all her thank  you's and that sealed the deal. We lay there for a few minutes longer and suddenly she got all perky. 
 
"I have to go!" she said, looking at her wrist, which was bare. "I have to get back to Claire's room. What if your parents catch us?" 
 
Now was a fine time to ask that question. 
 
But I rolled off of her and had just the teeniest glimpse of red looking pussy lips covered with thick white spunk before she closed her legs, sat up and covered herself with Barbie again.   I may have moaned again as the top covered up Nirvana and, after one quick kiss on the lips and a last "Thank you Bobby ... I mean it." she was gone. 
 
Mr. Happy was ecstatic.   But I was too tired to even go listen to what she said through the wall.  Even if Marge was the only one who ever let me touch her, it had been worth it.  And, based on her attitude when she left, I had a pretty good idea that I'd get to see ... and suck ... those wonderful tits again too.
 
I thought about that as I drifted off to sleep.


CHAPTER FOUR
 
The next morning was a day to sleep in, it being Saturday, but of course that didn't happen with Claire and the posse in the house. They were particularly charged up that morning because two of their number were no longer virgins and one of those had forfeited that virginity within range of the hearing of the rest, only the night before.  I didn't know they had actually been in the hallway, listening to Large Marge moan her way through a couple of orgasms while her virgin pussy got all sloppy with my sperm.
 
But, I was sure they all knew what had happened. 
 
Some of you might be thinking that I'd have wanted to be up and strutting around, like a rooster in the barnyard, all proud of what I'd done. But you have to remember that, up until this time, the relationship between the posse and me had been adversarial in nature. I picked on them ... and they tried to make my life miserable in return.   And, Marge hadn't wanted to stay around and cuddle, so it wasn't like I had found love or anything.  Even though they, including Claire, were all quite sure I had stuffed many a pussy full of my hard prick, I still wasn't at all used to the idea that I had actually had sex with a girl.  Two, if you count my sister, and that was pretty weird to think about too.  So I tried to stay in bed, hoping they'd all leave and go somewhere. 
 
It was not to be. 
 
Claire barged into my room - that was getting to be an annoying routine, it seemed - and I could hear the girls out in the hallway tittering, though at least they didn't follow her in. 
 
"GET UP LAZY BONES!" Claire shouted gleefully. I told myself that was a good sign. She was happy, and that meant I had made Marge, and by extension, the rest of the posse, happy too. That was confirmed when Claire leaned over and whispered in my blanket-covered ear. 
 
"You did good last night." 
 
Her incorrect English notwithstanding, I felt a little better, but was still averse to facing a bunch of girls who knew what "good" I had done. But you can't deflect a fifteen year old girl by saying "I can't possibly face all those girls." It just isn't done. Not if you're a guy. I did manage to get her to leave by promising I'd get up and appear at breakfast. 
 
I tried to take as long as I could to get a shower and get dressed, hoping that they'd all be done eating by the time I got there, but they dawdled with their food, probably thinking I was trying to build up the suspense for a triumphal entry. I was suddenly the star attraction in the Hopkins household. I didn't realize how much until I went into the kitchen. 
 
They were all still in their pajamas and, before I arrived, were all chattering like Magpies. That stopped as soon as I walked in the room. My mother, working at the stove, even turned around to see why everybody had suddenly gone silent. She saw me and raised an eyebrow, but she was used to the girls treating me like a pariah, and just turned back around to tend the eggs. 
 
"Good morning Bobby" said Marge. There was a burst of giggles and Mom turned BACK around. This kind of behavior did not fit into her expectations. 
 
I managed a whole one-word sentence. "Hi." 
 
The girls scooted around to make room for me at the table. There was no chair, so I'd have to stand, but they made room. My mother's eyebrow rose again. She wasn't a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn't have enough information to arrive at any unhappy conclusions, so eventually she shrugged and turned back to the eggs, which were really well done by then. 
 
The silence went on and it might have gotten really uncomfortable if my father hadn't walked in. He looked around and said "I love Saturdays! Especially when my house is filled with beautiful women." He loved to compliment the posse and they loved him for it. 
 
That got giggles and conversation going again and two of the girls shared one chair so he could sit down. I might be a sex machine but I didn't rate my own chair. Other than a lot of interesting looks from all those girls, including my sister, breakfast concluded without much further ado. 
 
But those interesting looks were powerful. You know how women complain all the time about how men look at them? They complain that men undress them with their eyes and all that stuff.   Right?
 
Well I can tell you I know what that feels like. All of those girls were looking at me like I was one of those modern paintings you see where you can't figure out what it's actually a picture of.   And somebody comes along and says "Isn't it wonderful?"    And, of course, you don't want to sound like an idiot so you come up with some lame response like "Yes ... so expressive."   But you still don't understand it, and it's particularly upsetting when it appears someone else does!
 
Anyway, the girls were looking at me like that, and Large Marge was the one who had said "Isn't it wonderful?"
 
A week ago, if I'd have looked at the girls like that, Claire would have been complaining to our mother.  Girls don't like to be looked at like that.
 
But what I can't understand is why women complain about that. I mean they fix themselves all up with makeup and slinky clothes and a nice hairdo and all that, and they look all luscious and edible, like they were a piece of pie. Come to think of it, maybe that's where the term "Cheesecake" came from. 
 
Anyway, I sort of liked it, because it was obvious none of them were actually repelled or anything. Knobby Robby looked pretty disgusted, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with me exactly. I mean when she looked at me she didn't frown, or grimace or anything. But, there WAS something different in her eyes when she looked at me. She ate like she was miffed about something, though. I decided not to worry about it and just enjoyed being the center of attention. Even though none of them were saying anything to me. 
 
I didn't have anything to do that morning, and planned on another session with Mr. Heinlein's book, but cartoons were first. I always watched the Roadrunner show on Saturday mornings. I kept hoping Wiley Coyote would catch that damn bird. I knew he never would, but it was fun to watch him try. Now, later in life, I suspect that teenage boys who didn't have access to ready pussy, transposed Wiley's efforts on top of their own efforts to catch some pussy some day. We never thought we actually would back then - get some pussy I mean - but there was always hope, and a lot of effort went into trying to find the "Acme" device that, when you pushed the right button, would catch that giggling girl and lay her out naked for you to ravage. 
 
Sorry.  Again, I digress.  That's one of the things that happens to people when too much, that's too momentous, happens suddenly in life.  It gets you to thinking.
 
Anyway, that's why I was sitting on the couch in the living room when the posse stampeded out the front door. I don't know where they were going, but they were excited to get there. 
 
And Marge stopped by the couch on her way out and kissed me on the lips. They were all watching her do it, and there was a chorus of "Oooooo"s and shrieks and giggles that left me beet red. 
 
It didn't affect Marge at all. She just breathed in my face and smiled and said "Thank you Bobby." 
 
How do girls know how to do that? Produce instant boners, I mean. I was rock hard before the front door slammed and they left me alone. That was it for cartoons. I had to retreat to my room and whack off. Remembering Marge's smell, and the feel of those big soft tits against my chest had me spurting in record time. 
 
I was four more chapters into "Stranger In A Strange Land" when my mother stuck her head in my door and told me she and Dad were going garage saleing. Two chapters later I heard them come back. Except it wasn't 'them' ... it was just Claire. She stuck her head in the door too. 
 
"Where's Mom and Dad?" she asked. 
 
"Garage sales" I muttered. 
 
"Goody!" she yipped. She came in the room. 
 
She ran across the room and catapulted herself on top of me. I barely got the book out of the way. I wasn't sure what was going on until she started kissing me. Her lips felt really warm for some reason. 
 
"I'm sooo horny." she breathed into my mouth. "Margie told us what happened and I've been horny ever since!" 
 
I don't know why I thought Claire would only do me once. I guess it was the taboo thing, maybe, and she had obviously been aware of the risks. She made it clear in short order, though, that she was going to do it twice ... at least. Her fingers attacked my shirt like she'd practiced for hours, and my belt and zipper too. Then her clothes were flying all over the place until we were both naked. She straddled me and put her hands on my wrists, like she wanted to be in control, but all she did was kiss me lots of times until I was straining up against her. I could feel her wetness on my stomach as she rubbed her slick pussy against it. 
 
Then she lowered one of her nipples to my mouth. "Do what you did to Marge," she panted. I realized that, during our first frantic coupling, I hadn't paid any attention to her breasts, really. When I sucked on her nipple she shuddered and moaned. "Ohhh she was right ... that feels marvelous." she complimented me. Well it felt pretty good to me too, so I went back and forth until both of her nipples were sticking out a lot, all sharp and pointy. 
 
Just as suddenly as she'd attacked me in the first place she was on her back, pulling me over on top of her and her hand found my hardness and pulled. We both groaned out loud as I slid into that heat.  She was so tight - lot's tighter than Marge, who suddenly had another reason to have her nickname.   Once I got my prick good and slick  in Claire's weepy pussy, I began fucking her fast and hard. 
 
She let me do that for a while, but then pushed at my chest and said "Slow down a little." We both found that a little slower tempo caused me to press in harder and rub against her more, and that was better. She gave me a running commentary on how close her orgasm was, right up until she squealed and said "YES!" 
 
They say that having a mutual orgasm when making love is actually quite difficult ... that people reach their pinnacle at different times naturally, depending on what they're thinking about, and the physical stimulation that's going on and all that. Some people even say what you had for your last meal before you make love affects when you get your cookies. I don't know about all that. When Claire yelled "YES!" and I knew that it was my very own hard cock that had produced that " YES!" I spewed like a water balloon that has landed on a cactus. My cum splattered all over the inside of my sister's pussy and I loved every spurt. Knowing that there was nothing preventing a pregnancy didn't bother me even a little bit. Not then. I'd feel bad about it later, but it was exciting then. You know what I mean? 
 
Like I said earlier, sex energized Claire ... made her hyper usually. But, once in a while, Claire liked to kiss and cuddle after sex. That day was a kiss and cuddle day. And to the surprise of two teenagers, we found that a teenage cock can get hard again really fast. I really soaked her that day. 
 
It was after our second go-round that she asked me the question. 
 
"So who do you want to do next?" 
 
"What?" I had enough brains present to act confused. 
 
"The posse! Who do you want to make love to next?" 
 
"I'm making love to the whole posse?" I asked, trying to put incredulity into my voice. I was proud of myself for remembering to say 'make love'.
 
"Of course. They're all curious. We can trust you not to tell everybody about it. You're elected. Especially after the way Marge talked about what you did last night." 
 
"She told you what we did?" I was still trying to play the role of un-clued-in brother. 
 
"She SHOWED us what you did," she said. 
 
"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked. I really didn't know what she was talking about. 
 
"She took off her bottoms when she got back. She SHOWED us all your stuff leaking out of her." 
 
"You guys LOOKED AT HER PUSSY?" I gasped. 
 
"Of course," she said, like everybody knew teenaged girls who'd just had sex showed their sperm-filled pussies to all their friends. "How else would we have known you actually did it?" 
 
"I didn't know proof was required." I said dully. 
 
Man, I was sure glad I wasn't a girl. To have to prove you did something like that to all your friends? That would be just too weird. 
 
"Of course proof is required!" said Claire, like I was stupid. "The rest of the girls wouldn't agree to do it with you unless they all know that everybody ELSE did it with you too." She acted like that actually made sense or something. 
 
Then I got this mental image of Marge, sitting on the edge of the bed, her PJ bottoms on the floor, her legs spread, with those rosy pussy lips gaping open and all spermy, while a bunch of girls peered between her legs to see the ... proof. 
 
And then Claire and I found out that some teenaged boys can go THREE times within a very short time if they're properly motivated. 
 
After that one we were both lying there sweaty and out of breath. I looked at the ceiling and said "Suzy." 
 
I know there are some women reading this who cringed just then. I mean you're lying with your lover, who you just pumped full of spunk, and you say another woman's name. You're thinking that's crude and a bad idea, right? But with the posse it was all for one and one for all, like the musketeers, and it didn't make Claire jealous at all.  She did ask why, though. 
 
"I know my nickname for her hurts her feelings." I answered. "Loosey Suzy" was a reference to the shirts she wore, but "Loose" in that day and age had another context that women didn't appreciate being applied to them. And even though I didn't mean it that way, other people hearing me call her that wouldn't know that. She'd yelled at me a lot of times about that and I knew it bothered her. 
 
And, naturally, since it bothered her, I'd called her that every chance I'd gotten. 
 
But this new kind of relationship with the posse couldn't be built on that kind of thing. So I somehow felt like I 'owed' it to Suzy to show her that I thought she was cute as could be. With typical teenage denseness it didn't even occur to me that, after I 'showed' her how I felt about her, she'd be a lot closer to being a "loose woman" than when I'd started. It was a philosophical conundrum that I didn't even recognize was out there, but which should have been obvious. You'll understand that in a little bit. 
 
Claire agreed that I was a turd for calling Suzy what I called her, but she didn't get in my face about it. How could she, lying there naked next to me with my cum soaking into her womb? Anyhow then Claire came up with this really stupid plan for me to sneak over to Monique's house that night, where the posse was convening for their second sleepover of the week. I told her I thought that was stupid, because Monique's parents wouldn't think it was funny at all if they caught me sneaking into their house. She said it didn't matter because they were going to the Opera and wouldn't be there anyway, but that nobody else needed to see me going in. 
 
Which is why I found myself, on a Saturday night, standing outside Monique's bedroom window at eight in the evening when my parents thought I was out dragging the strip with my buddies. I'd parked the car behind their house in the alley where I hoped nobody would see it and wonder why my father's car was parked in the alley behind the Haskins house. 
 
The posse was assembled. It was autumn, but the weather was nice so it wasn't all that cool, even though it was getting pretty dark. I tapped on the window. 
 
There were noises inside like they thought a burglar had just arrived and was going to kill them all. Claire came to the window. 
 
"Good, you're here," she said, like she thought I wouldn't come or something. 
 
Monique appeared beside her. "It's my house!" she stated, like she was pissed off at me. I later found out that she was upset because Suzy was going to get her turn at Monique's house. Monique thought it should be HER turn, since it was HER house. Of course I didn't know that then, so I didn't know how to respond. 
 
"Yes, it is." I said. 
 
She turned to my sister and said "See? Even HE knows it!" 
 
I also didn't know that Claire had approached things like it was all HER idea that Suzy was next. She didn't give me any credit ... or blame, come to think of it ... for choosing Suzy over anybody else. She had just announced that Suzy would lose her virginity that night. It had caused a sensation because all the girls thought, for some reason, that virginities would only be lost at Claire's house. So the remaining virgins had been all relaxed and under the assumption that their hymens were secure until the next sleepover at Claire's. Then, when Claire made her announcement all unexpected like, and Monique found out it wasn't going to be her, she got jealous! 
 
Who understands how girls think? 
 
Anyway, I didn't know all that then, so I was just standing in the Haskins' back yard wondering if the neighbors had seen me yet and called the Police about the peeping Tom at 3314 Maple Street, saying things like "and could you hurry please, there are a bunch of poor defenseless girls there!" 
 
But no S.W.A.T. team showed up and Monique told me to go to the back door, where I was ushered in like an escaped convict they were trying to hide. I got "shhh"ed too, even though the only people in the house were the girls. Then I was suddenly standing in Monique's bedroom, in the midst of six girls and being 'examined' again. Well, five girls, anyway. Roberta wasn't looking at me. She was looking everywhere else instead. 
 
Suzy whined. "Are you SURE it has to be me next?" 
 
Talk about hitting a guy where it hurts. Suzy was obviously not all that thrilled about getting more acquainted with me than she already was. I was stung. 
 
"It doesn't have to be anybody's turn." I groused. "I'm doing you all a favor, after all." 
 
Bad move. 
 
Now I was standing in the middle of six HOSTILE girls. Robby WAS looking at me now, and I knew that look from pains I still remembered from the past. 
 
"I didn't mean it like that." I mumbled. 
 
Claire took charge. "Casey Kasem's Top 40 is on. Let's go listen to it," she said, with authority. She had to add "Not you." to Suzy as Suzy tried to follow them out the door. 
 
Monique tried again. "Do they have to do it in MY bed?" 
 
Claire pushed her toward the door. "We'll change the sheets when they're done." 
 
And, just like that, I was alone with Loosey Suzy in Monique's extremely pink bedroom. 
 
Suzy was a fairly normal looking girl. She had brown hair, and brown eyes. Her hair hung straight on the sides of her face and almost touched her shoulders. I'd seen her wear it in a pony tail, but usually it was just hanging there, like it was tonight. She had on jeans, which, for the first time, I noticed were hugging nice round hips. She also had on her obligatory loose sweat shirt, which made her look flat -chested. She didn't have a lot on top. She looked like a thousand other girls until she smiled. She had a wide mouth and her teeth were blindingly white, and her smile made you want to smile with her. She was just standing there, staring at me. 
 
"I'm not going to do this," she said quite firmly. The gauntlet had been thrown down. 
 
"OK" I said, like I didn't care. At that point I actually didn't really care that much. This was weird for me too. "So what do you want to do instead?" 
 
I don't think she was prepared for me to be so agreeable. She shifted from one foot to the other. "Why don't you just leave?" she asked. 
 
"I could do that." I said. "But you'll get ragged on by the girls." 
 
"I don't care what they think," she said. She didn't sound very convincing. 
 
"OK" I said amiably. "No biggie." I turned and started for the door. 
 
"Wait!" she said. I turned around. "Was that really ... your stuff? On Marge? Last night?" 
 
Now that seemed like a strange thing to ask. 
 
"Yes." I said. What else could I say? 
 
"Oh," she said. 
 
I didn't know what that meant either. 
 
Then she asked "Would you really just leave if I told you to?" 
 
"Yeah." I answered. What did she think I'd do? "If that's what you wanted." I added. 
 
"I thought you didn't care what I thought about anything," she said. I got it then. She was trying to start a fight. She didn't want to lose her virginity. Not with me anyway. 
 
I decided that, if nothing else, I'd do what I originally intended to do, and that was be nice to her. You know, to make up for all those times I'd teased her. 
 
"Look," I said. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, calling you Loosey Suzy. It's just a nickname, OK? It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't have anything to do with your boobs, and it doesn't mean I think you're ... easy or something." 
 
If I expected gratitude on her part I was in error. "What's wrong with my boobs?" she said, her voice rising a little. 
 
"Nothing's wrong with your boobs." I said. "I've never even seen them. Why would I think there's something wrong with them?" 
 
"They're so small," she said. "I know you think they're small." Her jaw was sticking out. She was still trying to start a fight. 
 
"Even if I thought they were small, that's not bad. They're all different sizes, right? Some are small, some are big. What's the difference? And who cares what I think anyway?" I didn't want a fight. 
 
"Boys don't like girls with small boobs." she insisted. 
 
"You don't know much about boys." I said. "I like all different kinds of boobs." 
 
"Marge said you liked her boobs." said Suzy. "She said you slobbered all over them." 
 
Somehow I didn't think "slobbered" was the word Marge had used. She had been way too happy when my mouth was on them. 
 
"Hers were fine." I said. "But I bet yours are fine too." It wasn't quite suave, or debonair, or even clever, but I was fighting for my life here. 
 
"You're just saying that because you want to get in my pants," she said. "If I let you, then I really WILL be loose!  And for what?   You don't REALLY like me." 
 
What was all this "Do you like me" stuff? It occurred to me that being 'liked' was somehow an important part of all this sex stuff for girls.   
 
The fact was that what she'd said wasn't true. I DID like Suzy. I mean she was really good at Math and she always had the coolest science projects. I'd just never spent much time getting to know her, you know? So how do you convince someone you like them when the only thing they know is that you tease them all the time? 
 
I walked over to her and took her face in my hands and I kissed her. I made it a tender kiss. I didn't push real hard or try to stick my tongue in her mouth or anything like that. I just kissed her and tried to enjoy it. It wasn't hard. She had nice lips, even if all she did was stand there while I did it. 
 
"If I didn't like you, could I kiss you like that?" I asked, when it was over. Her hands were hanging at her sides and she hadn't moved at all while I kissed her. Her cheeks were pink, though, and her eyes were wide. 
 
"Nobody's ever kissed me before," she said. 
 
"Was it all that bad?" I asked. 
 
She thought about it. "No." then "Why do you tease me so much?" 
 
"I don't know. I tease all the girls, I guess." I said. She was still standing close to me. "I probably shouldn't tease so much ... huh?" I asked. 
 
"No, you shouldn't." she agreed. "Kiss me again." 
 
I wasn't ready for that. I mean she really surprised me. But I was willing, and this time I put my arms around her. I pressed a little harder too, moving my lips around on hers and suddenly I felt her hands on my waist. They weren't doing anything ... they were just resting there, but at least they weren't hanging by her sides. I was paying so much attention to her lips that I didn't pay any attention to the feel of her body against mine. That changed when I broke that kiss. I held on to her and then I felt her hard body pressing into me. She wasn't skinny, exactly, she was just mostly muscle. She felt good against me. She licked her lips. 
 
"There are other ways to kiss too." I said. 
 
"I know that," she said. She didn't pull away. 
 
"So ... do you maybe want to try that?" I asked. 
 
"Do you really stop whenever a girl says to stop?" she asked. 
 
"Absolutely." I said, my voice firm. 
 
"Well, maybe some kissing wouldn't be so bad," she said. 
 
Man, oh man, did she embrace 'some kissing'. Once she opened her lips and I touched just her teeth with my tongue, her hands moved from my hips to my back and then I found out those slim muscles of hers had some strength in them. She LIKED to kiss. So I gave her everything I had in the kiss department. Within two minutes, I bet, I had gone through all the mouth kisses I knew. During stops to breathe I nibbled her ear and she craned her neck, so I kissed that too. My hands slid around on her back and I realized she wasn't wearing a bra under that sweatshirt. I felt my dick start to harden up. She might not have been kissed before, but she was a quick learner, I'll tell you that. 
 
"Stop!" she said. 
 
I pulled back, still holding her, and looked at her. She was testing me. I kept looking at her. 
 
"Is that how you kissed Marge last night?" she asked. She was breathing deep. 
 
"I guess so." I said. "It's different with every girl." 
 
"Oh." she seemed surprised. "What else did you do with Marge? Other than ... you know." she amended her question.  "I don't want to do that." she reiterated. 
 
I began to understand that Suzy wanted to do ... something ... but didn't want to volunteer to do ... anything. She wanted to be convinced, or something like that, to do these new things. I've met women since then who were like that. They felt better about themselves morally if they didn't volunteer, but were ... convinced instead. I didn't quite grasp that concept back then, with Suzy, but some instinct told me to keep going until she said "stop" again. Maybe it was her insistence that she didn't want to do "that", which by default ... left everything else open. And I knew that she'd seen the evidence of what Marge and I did, and that Marge had at least told them that I sucked her nipples. 
 
"I touched her in some places." I said. That seemed pretty innocuous and not too threatening. 
 
"Like where?" asked Suzy. 
 
I slid my hands down below the hem of her sweatshirt and then up, onto her naked back. "I did this." I said, sliding my hands around on her smooth, tight skin. Then I kissed her again, while I rubbed her back some more. My fingers went down and slipped under the waistband of her jeans, touching her panties. She stiffened, and I pulled them right back out and caressed her back some more. When I broke that kiss I said. "And I touched her breasts too." 
 
There it was. It was an unspoken request to touch Suzy's breasts, which she thought were too small, and which she was ashamed of and hid under those thick loose shirts. 
 
"I'm scared," she said. 
 
I kissed her a couple of short soft kisses. "I won't hurt you Suzy." I said. 
 
"I know THAT," she said. "I'm scared you'll think my boobs are ugly. 
 
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" I suggested. 
 
"If you laugh at me I'll hate you forever," she said. She meant it too, even if she was still holding on to me. 
 
"I can't imagine laughing at your breasts." I said softly. 
 
She did push me away then. She turned her back to me and in a convulsive, quick movement pulled her shirt up and over her head. It left her hair all mussed, and that looked really good against her bare back. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. She didn't want to turn around. 
 
I went up to her and pushed the hair off her neck and kissed it with some more little soft kisses. She rolled her head sideways to give me more room and I slid my hands around her waist to her stomach. Her elbows came back and I realized her hands were covering her breasts now. I slid my hands slowly up until they bumped into hers. I applied just enough pressure to let her know that I wanted her to move her hands. 
 
"Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned. She still sounded scared. 
 
"I know they're beautiful." I whispered into her neck. 
 
She let me push her hands off her breasts and I covered her slim mams with my own hands as I kept kissing her neck. I felt her nipples instantly. They were huge. Those nipples were perched on mere swells of breast flesh. I was quite sure that some twelve year olds had more there than she did, but her nipples were truly impressive. They were thick and already stuck out as far as Claire's had after I'd sucked on them for fifteen minutes. I rubbed my hands across those nipples gently and she leaned back into me. 
 
She still didn't want to turn around. I got this idea and got to my knees, so my face was level with the small of her back. I kissed her there too, and then, grasping her hips, began to turn her around. Her stomach came into view and I kissed all around her belly button, but didn't look up at her breasts. Her hands were covering them again. I stuck my tongue in her navel and then started kissing my way up until I was kissing the flat skin between her hands. 
 
"Ohhhh Bobby" she moaned again. Now she sounded only uncertain, but not afraid. 
 
I kissed over to her left hand and made it clear I wanted her to move it. Ever so slowly she dragged it away from my lips and I kissed each centimeter of skin she uncovered. Then that nipple was suddenly free and her hand dropped. I kissed all around it first, and then closed my lips over it. It was as big as her little finger, and I was able to get it all the way inside my teeth as I sucked. 
 
"Ohhh Bobby!" she sighed a third time. This time there wasn't any fear in her voice at all. 
 
I felt her other hand fall on my shoulder and immediately kissed my way across to the other nipple. There wasn't anything to squeeze or hold with my hands, so I put them on her rock hard butt cheeks and just worked those nipples for a while. She moaned and her hands went behind my head and pulled and I knew she was having a good time. She might not have much there, but what she had was very sensitive. 
 
Eventually I worked my way back up to her mouth, unbuttoning my shirt at the same time so that when I kissed her lips I could press my chest against those nipples. She swayed, rubbing them against me and her hands went all fluttery on my back. 
 
We broke to breathe again and I asked "You want me to stop now?" 
 
Her eyes got a glint in them that suggested I should shut up, and that when she was ready to tell me to stop I wouldn't have any trouble whatsoever in comprehending that.    All that with just a look! I went back to my plan.
 
"I did some other things with Marge." I said. "Other than ... you know." That wasn't technically true, at least not what I had in mind to do to Suzy. What I had in mind I had done to Claire, not Marge, but I wasn't going to tell Suzy that. 
 
"What things?" she asked, her voice kind of dreamy. 
 
"I kissed her ... other places." I said. 
 
Suzy wasn't stupid. I'd already kissed her everywhere on her body that wasn't covered up by her jeans. 
 
"Ohhh I don't know ..." she said. The uncertainty was back in her voice. 
 
"I think you'd like it." I suggested. "I'll stay dressed if that would make you feel better." 
 
That appealed to her. Me dressed wasn't so scary. 
 
"Maybe just a little," she said. 
 
I took her to the bed and laid her down on it. Her hands came back to her breasts and I took them away. "They're beautiful Suzy." I said. She blushed but I got my first of those brilliant smiles of hers. 
 
"Really?" she asked. She wanted to hear that again. 
 
"They made me hard as a rock." I said. 
 
Her eyes darted to the front of my pants, where there was a lump plainly visible. I think it was the fact that it was still securely a prisoner in my pants that made her able to look at it and not get nervous. 
 
My hands went to the front of her jeans. I went very slowly, undoing the button and then unzipping them. That put a little pressure on her mons and she wiggled. Her eyes were really big again and she was breathing hard again. But when I pulled at the waistband she lifted her hips off the bed. Her jeans were so tight that I couldn't get a grip on them, other than the waistband, and they wouldn't go down past her hips that way. She finally helped.  When her panties slid down with the jeans, though, she scrabbled for them, pulling them back up. With my face right over those panties I was able to smell her, and she was turned on. 
 
I started with the little kisses again, on her abdomen and stomach, and slid my hands along her legs, which were tightly closed. I let my lips stray onto her panties and her hands fluttered again, like she couldn't decide what to do with them. When I pressed my lips as far down between her thighs as I could get them with her legs closed, she moaned again. I crawled up on the bed and put my knees outside her calves as I continued kissing the front of her panties. I licked them too, until they were wet with both her juices and my own saliva. 
 
I kissed my way back up her body, stopping at those nipples again and lay down beside her to kiss her lips some more. She rolled over to face me and, while we traded tongues I played with her butt cheeks.   When I slid my hand inside her panties she just wiggled more and kissed harder. So, afraid any minute she'd yell "STOP!" I began to work my hand around in front. 
 
She kept her legs tightly closed, but she didn't say anything close to "stop" and I was able to pet her a little bit, getting one finger between the upper end of her pussy lips, where it was hot and slick with her juices. I couldn't tell you how long it took, but at some point her legs began to relax and she rolled onto her back. Then, with her tongue stuck firmly into my mouth, she spread her legs. 
 
I was able to get my middle finger into her pussy and I started finger-fucking her with slow strokes. Knowing where I'd seen Marge's clitty, I explored and found Suzy's. She jerked when I put my slippery fingertip on it and started playing with it. What was more interesting was that she stopped kissing me and lay there, her mouth open, taking in panting breaths, her eyes tightly closed, as I masturbated her, slipping another finger in with my first one. She was tight and she winced, but she didn't open her eyes and she didn't yell "STOP!" I took that wince to mean she still had her cherry, and took the other finger out, playing with her clitty until she writhed on the bed. She had liked having her nipples sucked so much that I thought that might help, so I leaned over and took the one nearest to me into my mouth. 
 
That did it. She tensed up and her legs closed on my hand again and she went "EEEEEEEEEE" in this whine that made my dick leak in my pants. All I could do now was wiggle my finger, because my hand was trapped, so I did that until she said "OK, stop." 
 
It wasn't like a real demand. It was more like she was done and needed to take a break. I pulled my hand out and she winced again, but then she opened her eyes and rolled her head toward me as I lay my sticky hand on her stomach. She looked like she needed a kiss, so I did that and she kissed me back, but it wasn't a hot kiss or anything. It was just a nice warm one - kind of quick, but she was breathing really hard. 
 
"You OK?" I asked when that was done. 
 
She nodded. "I've done that ... but ... it never ... felt that good." She was panting. 
 
I'd gotten a lot farther with Suzy than I thought I would. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." I said, kissing her shoulder. 
 
"It wasn't ... so bad." she was getting her breath back now. 
 
"I think I stretched your cherry a little bit." I said. 
 
"Was that what you wanted to do?" she asked. "Is that what you did to Marge?" 
 
I remembered I'd wanted to lick her pussy, but had gotten sort of distracted away by getting her off. "Well, no, but you looked like you were having fun, so I didn't do the other." 
 
"What was the other?" she asked. 
 
I didn't want to scare her. She had come a long way. "I wanted to kiss you ... without your panties on." 
 
Her eyes looked like she had smoke in them or something, kind of half closed. "You'd do that?" 
 
"Sure" I said. "It's fun." I took my hand from her stomach and sucked in on the finger I'd brought her off with. "You taste good." 
 
Her eyes got big, but then closed down again almost immediately. 
 
"That might be OK," she said, her voice soft. 
 
I didn't give her time to change her mind. I got up and grabbed the waistband of her panties and she lifted her hips as I slid them down. She had fluffy wispy hair. 
 
She covered her eyes with her hands. "This is so embarrassing," she moaned. 
 
"Don't be silly. You're a beautiful, sexy girl." I said. "I love looking at you. I'm hard as a rock right now." 
 
That got her hands off her eyes. They were big again. She had lifted her head and I kept my eyes on hers as I put gentle pressure on her knees, spreading them. Then I kept eye contact as I lowered my face, getting closer and closer. She watched me until I stuck out my tongue and found the split I had recently vacated with my finger. Then her eyes closed again and her head flopped back down on the bed. 
 
Suzy had a hot pussy, but she didn't want it to be hot. She loved having me play with her, but didn't want to be the one to initiate things. I still think to this day it's because I called her Loosey Suzy. She didn't want me to think she was a slut. But it was obvious that she wanted to feel that tingle again, so I licked and sucked, but I wasn't doing it right or something because even though she made perfectly wonderful sounds, she didn't tense up and squeal like she had before. Finally my tongue actually got tired and started aching. I lifted my face and her head came back up. 
 
"My tongue hurts." I said. What else could I say. "I mean it's been tense for a while." 
 
Her eyes were smoky again. "Didn't you show Marge your ... thing?" she asked. 
 
"Well, yes ..." I started to remind her she didn't want to see it, but then stopped. Maybe she did. "You want to see what you do to me?" 
 
She nodded fractionally. I got off the bed. My shirt was still on, though unbuttoned, and I dropped it to the floor. Then I pushed my pants and underwear down together, kicking off my shoes. I still had on socks, but didn't want to take them off, even though I thought I'd look pretty stupid dressed only in socks. I just stood up. Mr. Happy was pointing right at her and he really was stiff as a board. 
 
I moved closer. She was staring at it like it was made of gold or diamonds or something. "Marge touched it." I suggested. I was catching on that if Marge had done something, then it was OK for her to do it to. Except for actually fucking, of course. 
 
Her hand came out and she grasped the shaft between her thumb and two fingers. 
 
"It's warm" she said. 
 
"Marge said it felt hot inside her." I said. I'd said it before I thought and wished I hadn't as soon as it was out of my mouth. 
 
Suzy looked up at me. "I want to, but I'm scared." 
 
Wow. Suzy actually admitted she wanted to do something. Maybe things were looking up. I happened on a line that has served me well for many years. "You want to maybe try just a little bit? I can stop if it hurts or anything." 
 
She swallowed. "I really liked it when you ... what you did before." 
 
That wasn't too helpful. "You mean with my finger or my tongue?" I asked for clarification. 
 
"Yes." She wasn't in a clarifying mood, apparently.   So I pressed my case. 
 
"I really think you'd like this too." I suggested. "Marge seemed to." 
 
"Marge LOVED it." said Suzy. "She wouldn't stop talking about it."
 
Suzy seemed to be thinking, so I just stood there. She took her hand away and, for some reason, looked at her fingers, like she expected to see them stained dark or something. She looked back at me. "Maybe just a little bit. But you have to stop if I say so, OK?" 
 
"Deal." I said. But I didn't move. I didn't have any rubbers yet. But I didn't want to bring that up. Suzy's pussy looked like it would feel really good wrapped around my dick. 
 
Finally I crawled back up on the bed. Suzy spread her legs without any help from me and I crawled between them. She put her hand on my chest as my dick got within a couple of inches from her pussy lips. The fear was back in her eyes.
 
"Why don't you hold it?" I suggested. "Rub yourself with it a little." 
 
She liked that idea, and this time, when she grasped my dick, it was more firmly. I eased it forward and let her swab it around between those slick lips. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes again. I let my back sag and it poked into her a little, but only a little. It was lodged in the opening enough that she had to pull hard to rub it up over her clitty. I pulled back a little so it would be easier for her, and then sagged back. I sort of poked her pussy opening with it, not pushing hard or anything, and pulling back so I could poke it again. I did that a few more times, but I wasn't really getting anywhere. My back was beginning to ache from the strain of holding myself up. To distract myself I dropped my head and sucked one of her nipples again. 
 
Suzy's nipples were tied directly to her cum button I think. If I'd have pinched them while I was licking her pussy I think she'd have cum. The effect sucking on them had was to make her pussy jump up off the bed. 
 
My cock tried to stop her, but what happened was it popped her cherry. I felt maybe two inches of my cock slide into her. She was hot in there. 
 
"OOOWWwww" she squealed. I felt her hands lock onto my shoulders. I lifted my head and her eyes were wide open. I froze. She knew I hadn't done anything on purpose, which was good. Then she said "That hurts Bobby." 
 
"You want me to take it out?" I asked. My heart wasn't in it. 
 
"I don't know." she answered. 
 
That was kind of strange. If something hurts you stop doing it ... right? 
 
"It feels really weird," she said. "It hurts, but not in a bad way." 
 
I didn't understand that either.  "Maybe I'd better take it out." I said. I started to withdraw and her hands clenched my shoulders. Hard!. 
 
"No don't move!" she said. "It hurts." 
 
My back was killing me now. "I have to move Suzy, my back is killing me." I explained. I felt my back weaken and I sagged a little and went back in about as far as I'd pulled out. 
 
"Wait!" she said. "It's not so bad now." 
 
Neither of us were thinking about the fact Mr. Happy's head was bigger than his body, or shaft. It was the head that had stretched her torn hymen and caused most of the pain. But once the head was past her cherry, there was less pressure. 
 
I couldn't stay completely still. I sagged a little more, driving another inch into her. Her pupils dilated. 
 
"I can't help it." I moaned. "My back is killing me." 
 
"Just lie down on me," she said. From her vantage point, it probably looked like I was doing a pushup. So letting down onto her wouldn't really move anything right? 
 
Wrong. I let myself fall down on her and, in the process, filled her pussy with most of my cock. 
 
She let out a strangled "whoof" as my weight settled on her and I realized that a lot more of my cock suddenly felt nice and warm and snug. 
 
My face was right above hers. I tried to look sorry. "I'm really sorry Suzy." I said. "I didn't think it would go in more." I started to push myself off of her and her hands wrapped around my back. 
 
"DON'T MOVE." she ordered. 
 
I felt the strangest sensation along my cock. It was like it was being squeezed.
 
"Did you do something?" I asked. 
 
She nodded. "It feels better now. But it's so strange. I have muscles I didn't know I had until there was something to push them against." 
 
"What should I do?" I asked. I really didn't know what I SHOULD do. 
 
"Kiss me," she said. 
 
OK, that was easy. I kissed her and she slipped her tongue in my mouth and the kiss got better and better and all of a sudden I was sort of rocking on top of her. I realized her hands were on my back, making me move. I didn't move very much, but it was enough that I could feel my penis moving in her pussy ever so little.
  
The kiss broke. She looked at me and said "Can you put any more in?" 
 
I got my toes dug in and pushed with them. My prick slid the rest of the way in her and I felt the tip bump into something rubbery. Suzy's mouth opened and she gulped in air and suddenly her hips pushed at me. 
 
"Ohhhhhhhh" she moaned. 
 
"Better?" I asked. 
 
She nodded furiously and her hands pulled again and before I knew it I was fucking Suzy Rumbell Like we'd been doing it for years. 
 
With Large Marge it had been a tumultuous fast paced and violent thing.  But with Suzy it was much more sedate.  It's not like we didn't do anything, but what we did was what I'd call caressing.  My prick caressed her pussy inside her, and our bodies caressed each other's on the outside.  That made it easy to kiss, and we kissed almost the whole time I was moving inside her.  I also learned that if I went in until the tip of my cock touched that spongy thing up inside her, and then I rubbed my hips back and forth, she'd have that orgasm I couldn't give her with just my mouth.  And even her orgasms were more gentle in a way.  She tensed up, like she had when I fingerfucked her, and she made that little "EEEEEEE" sound each time, but she didn't flop all over the place like Marge had.
 
After the second time she tensed up and whined through a nice cum, she admitted that she was one of the girls who had listened at the door as Marge got her cherry picked.  "And I heard her voice and it sounded like she was in pain, but now I understand."
 
Suzy never got tired of having orgasms either.  But, freshly deflowered as she was, she got sore.  I didn't know it until she broke a kiss and said "Margie showed us ... what you did inside her.  I want that too."
 
That was the first time she'd actually asked for something, and what she asked for was my seed.  I'd just been having fun stroking her and watching her face work up to that tensed up "EEEEEEE" I was beginning to love so much.  But when she actually asked me to cum in her it was like she had flipped a switch.  All it took was four or five more strokes and I pushed in, banged against that rubbery place and felt streams of soothing cum flush through my cock and into her.
 
Her response was "MMmmm I can feel it.  It IS hot."  That's when she told me she was getting sore, and asked me to stop.  I wasn't all that tired, really, because I'd been lying on top of her the whole time.  But I rolled off of her to let her breathe easier.  She looked up at the ceiling and said "I guess you think I'm a slut now."
 
I didn't quite roll back on top of her, but I rolled onto her mostly and put my face right in hers.  "Never!" I said.
 
"But I let you do all kinds of nasty things to me," she said.
 
"You're Suzy Rumbell.  You're beautiful and sexy and I'll take your boobs over Dolly Parton's any day of the week.  And if you want me to stop calling you Loosey Suzy I will."
 
"I don't know," she said.  "If you don't call me that you'll call me something else and that might be even worse.
 
Which is how Suzy got her new nickname.  I called her "H.M." after that.  Only she and I knew that stood for Hot Mamma.  I told her she was hot, and that I wished I was her baby so I could suck those fabulous nipples whenever I got hungry.
 
She cried, and then she kissed me some more.  When she left the room to go find the rest of the posse her smile was so wide I thought her face just had to hurt.



CHAPTER FIVE
 
After Suzy my relationship with the posse changed. I had now been intimate with, from their perspective, two of them. Those two had a much different relationship with me than they had in the past. Suzy and I had our little secret in her new name and she reveled in it. Sometimes she'd come crashing into the house with all the rest of them and then stop in front of me, whether I was standing or sitting, watching TV or making a peanut butter sandwich and she'd say "What's my name?" 
 
When she asked, I played hard to get. Usually I'd say something like "What are you talking about? You know your name." of "Gee, I can't remember. Doesn't it have something to do with being skinny?" Her attitude toward that was to patiently ask the same question again until I at least used "H.M." in a sentence. I'd finally say something like "I give up H.M. What IS your name anyway?" 
 
And she invariably grinned that big beautiful smile. If there was no one else around I might even get a kiss. With Marge it was more subtle. If she passed me in the hall she "bumped" into me, almost always with her chest. She'd goose me too, front or rear; it didn't make any difference to her. But she was careful about it. 
 
Claire had made some rule that nobody could do it with me again until everybody had done it once. I heard about that rule from one of the girls later, but I didn't know it then.   But I did now something was up because both girls who'd let me into them showed plenty of evidence that they wanted to do it again ... except they wouldn't. 
 
I'll give you an example. Marge was in the house one night. She and Claire were doing homework together. Marge was good at Spanish, and Claire didn't even know how to say "No" in Spanish, if you get my drift. Marge went to the bathroom, and on her way back darted into my room, where I was lying on the bed doing Geometry. She grabbed my cock through my jeans and said "I miss that little sucker." Then she skipped away from me as I reached for her. 
 
"Hey, I'm here for you." I said. That was one of the new and popular phrases in the psycho babble wars about who was OK and who wasn't OK and why it mattered that everybody had to BE OK. 
 
She lit up. "You want to do it again?" she asked. 
 
"Oh yeah." I said, suavely, of course. "Every time you touch me I get all hard and ready to play." 
 
That's what girls want to hear ... right? 
 
"Ohhhh, poor baby" she said in baby talk. "I feel so sorry for you. Enjoy your math." Then she just walked out. No kiss, no cuddle, no stinky finger ... no nothing! 
 
And another afternoon, when they had all come to our house after school and were getting ready to go out somewhere I snuck up behind Suzy when she was alone and reached around her to put my hands over her breasts. She still wore oversized shirts, and she still went braless. I pinched those lovely big nipples of hers and she slapped my hands away. She turned around and said "What's my name Bobby?" in this soft voice that made my dick spring to attention. 
 
I didn't mess with her that time. I said "It's H.M., which stands for Hot Mamma and I'm hungry right now." 
 
She said "I love it when you do that." and then followed that up with "Gotta go. Go make yourself a snack or something." And she turned around and flounced off. 
 
I mean I was getting SERIOUS mixed signals, and I didn't have the faintest idea what they meant. 
 
It was another three weeks before the posse came back to our house for another sleepover. I knew our parents were going to be at a movie that night, and I had strong suspicions that Claire would tell me I was going to get to pick another cherry. 
 
But she didn't. At supper I casually mentioned "So I suppose I won't be able to get any peace and quiet tonight because your posse is going to tear up the house again." 
 
My mother said "Bobby, don't tease your sister. She's lucky to have all those friends. Besides, aren't you going out with your friends?" 
 
That was a problem. I liked my friends just fine, and spending time with them too. But if you weighed getting a piece of ass against hanging out with Phil and Dennis ... guess what won? 
 
But there were certain parental expectations about their children's behavior, and the last thing I wanted to do was arouse any suspicions. "Well, sure, but I may actually want to sleep too." 
 
Mom just turned to Claire and said "Try to keep things to a dull roar tonight honey, OK?" 
 
Claire, not to be outdone, responded "He couldn't possibly hear us over that dinosaur snore of his anyway." She smiled sweetly at me. 
 
After supper I tried again when Claire and I were alone. "Don't you ... uh ... need me tonight?" I asked. 
 
She faced me and got right up next to me until her breasts touched my chest. "I'll tell you when I need you. Go play with your friends." 
 
I wanted to say "I'd rather play with YOUR friends." but I knew that would give her too much power over me. I might have been horny, but I wasn't stupid.  Instead, I said "OK" and tweaked one of her nipples.  She jumped back, yelling at me, but I was ahead on points so I didn't care.
 
In fact I had a good time with Phil and Dennis, who were glad to have me back.  Since I'd been spending time with the girls, that took away from time with the guys.  Of course I didn't tell them that.  First off they'd have never believed me, and second they'd try to horn in and get some of the action themselves.  I just told them I'd gotten in trouble for doing something to Claire and had gotten grounded.
 
In fact, I had actually given up on the idea that I'd get to play with another girl that night. When I got back home Mom and Dad were getting ready to go to bed.  I got the impression from their comments that it had apparently been a romantic comedy of some sort that adults were attracted to, and Mom was all giddy, kissing my father a lot. When she said good night and dragged him off I had a pretty good idea what THEY were doing in their bedroom. And even though it was weird to think about my parents making the two-backed beast, I was a little grumpy that they were probably having fun while I lay in my own bed, alone and  horny. 
 
But the girls stayed in Claire's room. I even listened in at the holes in the wall, but didn't hear anything suggesting they were even thinking about me, much less drawing straws or anything like that to see who got to expand her sexual horizons. I did hear squeals and something about a killer cute outfit and makeup, but then they always talked about cute outfits and makeup. 
 
So I just happened to be lying on my bed, naked, stiff cock in hand, getting ready to solve the problem, when Unique Monique slipped into my room.  Apparently, her argument that she had missed her turn had won the day.
 
I suddenly had a pretty good idea what that cute outfit was they had been talking about. I didn't know where Monique got it. Back in those days there weren't stores that sold slinky lingerie to teenaged girls. All us guys knew it existed, because we saw it in Playboy, but you never saw it in a store some place waiting to be sold.
 
But she HAD found it somewhere, and I was extremely appreciative that she had. It was cream colored, like coffee with a lot of cream in it, and it set off her dark skin and darker hair beautifully. She had makeup on too, and somehow it made her cheekbones stand out. The outfit consisted of a pair of panties and bra that looked like it had been knitted by some lonely old Grandmother somewhere. It was purely for looks. The yarn, or whatever it was made of, formed a net, with holes big enough to stick your finger through. The whole effect was like a bikini, but it didn't hide anything at all. The contrast was really amazing. She was in the dark part of the room - I only had my reading light on - but the material was light colored and everything else about her was dark.
  
She stepped closer and I saw that her nipples were poking out through two of the holes in that net. They were dark too. I had seen pictures of dark nipples before, but all the real ones I'd seen were pink or brown. Monique's were almost black. I found out about ten minutes later that she had some dark lipstick on them, but they were still the darkest nipples I'd ever seen.
  
My eyes strayed down her flat belly to the bottoms of the outfit. Monique's pussy hair was dark too. It was thick, and it was poking out between those strands of cream colored yarn. All in all she looked ... fabulous. I had a sudden thought that she looked more like a Playboy Bunny than Miss September did. 
 
She hadn't said a word yet, but really, she didn't have to. Just appearing in my room dressed like that was a silent shout that I was going to get incredibly lucky. Her gaze went from my face to the cock in my hand and back again. 
 
Monique wasn't as easy to read as some of the other girls. Her face didn't show as much about what she was thinking. But those nipples were hard, and she stepped closer and closer toward me. 
 
What could I say to her to communicate how beautiful and sexy I thought she was? She deserved poetry, which I hated with the same passion that all teenaged boys hated it. But I knew that women who looked like this deserved poetry.
 
"You look like a poem." I blurted.
  
"You look like a naughty boy," she said right back, looking back at my hand, which was now just holding my rock hard prick. I had been moving it up and down, but when she came into the room I froze. Now, for some unaccountable reason, I jerked my hand away from my bone. It wobbled a little bit and then settled into its anti-aircraft position. When I was about thirteen I used to lie there just looking at my stiff prick, pointing up like the guns I saw in old war movies. I was impressed back then.
  
Now, as I looked at it, it just looked like a penis. I hoped she was impressed.
 
 "Only naughty boys masturbate." said Monique. She had an deep alto voice that, even in normal conversation, caught the ear. It was mellow and smooth. It was the kind of voice you hear on the radio and it makes you have fantasies about what the woman who owns that voice looks like.  Let me tell you boys, she looks like Monique.  Don't get me wrong.  She could scream and squeal with the best of them, but she seemed more cultured than the others, like her parents were better educated or whatever. She was a good student and got all A's.
  
I was so struck by her appearance that I didn't think about what I was saying. My mind just supplied words and I said them.
 
 "All boys masturbate." I said. 
 
"Really?" she commented. "That's not good." 
 
"Why?" I asked. 
 
"Cause ... if it gets all soft it won't be any good to me." 
 
Man, she was good. She was a virgin, or claimed to be, but her actions were those of a woman with LOTS of experience. 
 
"It's beautiful" she said, stepping right next to the bed.
 
 Well, it had been called "pretty" and now "beautiful". I would have hoped for "Studly" or maybe "Bullish", or even "Wow, it's BIG". But, coming from her lips, "beautiful" was just fine. 
 
"Thank you." I said inanely. 
 
"Can I touch it?" she asked. 
 
"Oh please" I begged. 
 
She reached out and grasped it, bending over a little bit. I noticed that her breasts didn't move an inch, or hang down more or anything like that. They had to be rock hard. They weren't as big as Large Marge's, but they were bigger than I had thought they'd be. Her hair, on the other hand, flowed all over the place.  It was heavy black hair, straight as an arrow and it shone in the light from my reading lamp with that bluish glint that only truly black hair gives off.  
 
Then my eyes went to her hand as it closed around my cock. For some reason she stood it up straight. Her grip was light ... tentative. It was the first sign that she wasn't completely sure of herself. Very slowly she skinned the foreskin down over the head, her eyes glued to the exposed tip. 
 
"I missed my turn," she said, as if someone else was in the room and she was informing them of critical information. 
 
"I'm sorry." I babbled. 
 
"No you're not" she said, again conversationally. "You fucked Suzy in my bed and you loved it." 
 
Hearing her use the word "fuck" was so bizarre that I was actually shocked. 
 
"She loved it too." added Monique. "I've been jealous ever since."
  
Her hand skinned back up my cock and then down again. 
 
"I'm sorry" I tried again. 
 
She looked at my eyes and hers were dark, like the rest of her. There was emotion there, but I couldn't identify what kind of emotion it was. She was acting so calm ... measured almost ... like she was acting out a scene she had practiced for a long time. 
 
"Do you like my PJs?" she asked. 
 
Never in a thousand years would I have called what she was wearing "PJs". It was another odd little thing that suggested she wasn't quite as sure of herself as she appeared to be. Then again, what the hell DID you call something like that? 
 
"Uh huh." I said, arching my hips up off the bed as her hand caressed me again. 
 
"I made it," she said. "I crocheted it myself ... just for this. I had to make a hat too, so my Mom wouldn't know what the yarn was really for." She licked her lips. "I didn't wear the hat, though." 
 
Now I KNEW she was nervous. For some reason I felt a lot better all of a sudden. There for a minute I had been feeling like a mouse, sitting out in the open, with a big eagle staring at me or something. 
 
"You should have." I said. "It would have gone really good with your hair."
  
OK, I was still nervous too. But hey, no compliment is wasted ... right? 
 
"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time." said Monique.
  
I couldn't think of a single thing that I didn't want her to do to me right then.
 
"Go for it." I said. 
 
She licked her lips again and, before I could react, bent further, skinned my foreskin back, and sucked the head of my cock into her mouth. 
 
I don't know what the actual medical name is for what happened to me, but I'm sure it was some kind of seizure. I've heard people try to describe what an epileptic seizure looks like, and I'm pretty sure I did a fair imitation of that. I know I made tortured sounds and flopped around enough that she had to suddenly grip my cock so hard it was almost painful. But there wasn't anything about those few seconds I'd catalogue as painful, really. The dictionary is chock full of superlatives that could be applied to it ... pick any one of them, or a dozen and you get the idea. What I am most glad of now is that I had no idea she would do that. If I'd have known I'd have blown in her mouth immediately. 
 
And that would have made my cock soft. 
 
And Unique Monique would have been unhappy. 
 
I didn't want Monique to ever be unhappy about anything ... ever again. 
 
Her mouth did a little suck ... tongue twirl ... slide around a little bit kind of thing and then she pulled her mouth off and looked at the tip, like she expected something to happen. 
 
"I knew I'd like that," she said. She looked up at my face again. "I want to do more of that ... later. OK?" 
 
I was gasping and trying to remember who I was and what all those shiny lights I had seen with my eyes closed were, and what planet I was from ... that kind of thing ... but I nodded frantically. 
 
"You're so funny." said Monique, smiling. "You make me feel good." 
 
At that particular point in time I wanted to be hilarious, and make Monique feel all those superlatives in the dictionary I just mentioned. Once again, if this particular member of the posse had asked me to marry her right then and there, I'd have babbled "YES! OH THANK YOU." I was her slave, and all she'd done was suck the tip of my cock a little. 
 
And make an outfit to lose her virginity in. 
 
"But I want to do something else first," she said, letting go of my prick. Mr. Happy never felt so alone and sad in his whole life as he did right then.
 
 "OK." said my befuddled brain to my mouth, which repeated it out loud. Then, because neither suave nor debonair were within light years of my room, I said "I don't have a rubber though." 
 
After I had time to think about that statement, I realized that Monique was the first girl to appear to me primarily as a loving human being who deserved only the best in life. What happened to her mattered to me on a level I hadn't experienced before in my life. I mean I loved Claire, and wanted her to be happy in life, and if something bad happened to her I'd do anything to help her. And both Marge and Suzy were special to me too in a way that only real friendship has ever been special to me since then. 
 
But with Monique I didn't ever want to hurt her in any way of any sort. Her nickname might have suggested that, if I'd have thought about it. Of them all, her nickname was the only one that wasn't a way of poking fun at her. I hadn't realized it before, and really I didn't, even at that moment, but since then I've thought about it a lot. I really LIKED Monique, and she's still one of my best friends today. 
 
Anyway, the thought of me ... causing her the grief that an unwed mother suffered in those days ... it just wasn't something I wanted to think about. 
 
"It's OK" she said in that soft deep voice. "It's safe for me right now. That's why we waited this long." 
 
'We' That word caused me to imagine five other girls, huddling on the other side of the wall, trying to listen to what was going on. And they had helped get her ready. That's what their talk about the 'cute outfit' and makeup was about. Suddenly it was like they were all right there in the room, in the shadows, with score pads, waiting to write down their scores on cards, like they do in those ice skating competitions my folks like to watch so much. 
 
Now that I'm older, I know that what I had was what's called a 'performance complex'. It causes older men's cocks to fall limp, which just adds to the problem. But that outfit, and those perky nipples and her obvious pleasure at being with me overrode that back then.
 
That, and of course, the fact that Unique Monique had just assured me I could spurt in her pussy. 
 
And I suddenly wanted ... BAD ... to spurt in her pussy. 
 
Please have a little more patience with me here folks. I know this is supposed to be a fast paced rollicking story about fucking and spurting and the joy of sex, but I also have to explain some things like this, because it made a real difference in my later life. 
 
Monique made me ... care ... about women. At least about the women I liked.
 
Finally my mind started functioning. "Your PJ's are gorgeous." I said, moving over to give her room to climb up on the bed. "You're gorgeous." 
 
Her smile was genuine, but didn't match the words that came out of her mouth. "I'm really nervous about this." 
 
I patted the bed beside me. "I wouldn't hurt you for a chance to meet Elvis." I said. 
 
She lay down on the bed, leaving several inches of space between us. "What do we do now?" she asked. 
 
Suddenly all her cool demeanor evaporated. If she had practiced what she'd just done, that's all she'd practiced. 
 
"I'd love to kiss you." I said. "And a whole lot more. But if you feel nervous just tell me, OK?" 
 
She nodded and leaned forward a little bit as I leaned in to press my lips to hers. She had big soft lips that smooshed and moved when I kissed her, and her tongue tip was right there at my lips as I opened them. She had obviously kissed somebody before, because she was a good kisser. I felt her hand on my hip as she leaned further toward me and I put my hand on the net of yarn that covered her hip. That kiss was a long one, but it wasn't urgent or anything. It was just nice and warm and long. 
 
When our lips came apart I said "You're a good kisser." 
 
She smiled again. "I practiced with my Teddy Bear."
  
"You're kidding." I said. 
 
"No, really. I spent hours kissing him. I've wanted to do this for a long time, Bobby." 
 
Dumb me. I thought she just meant 'kissing a boy'. I'd find out later she meant she wanted to kiss ME. Hence my flippant remark: "Well, you get your wish. Kiss me all you want." 
 
She did too. And when my hand strayed up to those lace covered breasts she just kissed me harder. Her nipples stuck through the mesh, and they were so long and hard that I couldn't wait to taste them. I kissed my way down to them and sucked one in. 
 
Monique made happy sounds. 
 
Her nipples were thick, besides being long. I've never seen nipples like that on a woman younger than probably thirty, but I had a blast sucking them. I wanted to get more in my mouth, and pushed her bra up and off of one breast. She liked that too, and in short order she ordered me to stop so she could take it off. It had to go over her head like a T shirt, because the way it was knitted or crocheted or whatever it was made it all one piece. 
 
Then I suckled both nipples like a dying man. They were just fabulous. I didn't even care that they tasted like the lipstick she'd darkened them with. 
 
At one point she moaned "Oh Bobby I'm so close to feeling good." I figured that meant she had experienced an orgasm before, most probably with her fingers or something like that, and she called that 'feeling good.' And I wanted Monique to feel good. So I didn't exactly warn her that I was going to slide my hand into those net panties of hers and push my fingers through all that thick kinky hair down there, until I found her thoroughly wet and slippery gash, or that I was going to hook a finger up inside her and pull, so as to mash her clitty. I sucked firmly on her left nipple as I did that. 
 
She let out a little "Eeeep", but then went off like a roman candle almost immediately. It came out as a kind of "OOoooooo ... Awwwwww ... OHhhhhh ... Unnnnng" and her hands crushed my head to her breast. 
 
I jerked my finger around in her a little bit and she shook like a dog trying to get dry after a swim. Then she rolled away from me and lay limp, pulling that nipple out of my mouth with a 'pop'. 
 
I was up on my left elbow and looked down at her half opened eyes. "How was that?" I asked. 
 
"Fuck me," she said. Her voice was so clear and mellow and completely understandable, but the words just didn't fit and I stared at her for a few seconds. She started wiggling out of her bottoms, though, and that convinced me. 
 
Monique had no fear. She might have been nervous, but she had no fear. That sounds strange, but it was like that. When she dropped her panties on the floor beside the bed she spread her legs and reached for me. I crawled up over her and didn't even get to see those pussy lips, hidden by all that lush growth of hair. I looked down and my cock was nesting there in that hair. Monique's hand slipped between us and she grasped my prick lightly, aiming it where she wanted it. 
 
She was hot as fire. I almost pushed hard, but then remembered I didn't want to hurt her. So I pushed gently, expecting to feel resistance. I just nudged the head of my cock into her opening. 
 
"I put a banana up in me ..." she said, her voice breathy with excitement. "It hurt, but I wanted to be ready." Monique had done a LOT of planning, getting ready for this. 
 
I looked back up at her eyes and she was biting her lower lip. She let it go and said "Fuck me Bobby." 
 
I slid forward into hot, tight, buttery pussy. 
 
And promptly blew Unique Monique full of hot, buttery, very dangerous teenaged sperm. 
 
Talk about your premature ejaculation. That was my night for all the sexual dysfunctions known to man. Well, except that I didn't have any problem getting a hardon before we started. And, to my amazement, I was so keyed up, I STAYED hard, even as I felt the sweet jolts of semen rushing through my prick and into Monique. 
 
Her eyes squinted with the strain of accepting my prick, and then immediately widened as she felt the heat of my ejaculate spurting into her. 
 
"It feels so hot ... and wet ..." she said, her voice sounding amazed too. 
 
"That's because I just came." I gasped. 
 
"Already?" There were definite tones of unhappiness in Monique's voice and they struck me to the core. My luscious, precious, special Monique wasn't happy.
  
"Don't worry" I said with confidence I hoped was well founded. "I think I can keep going." 
 
And I did, too. I think part of that was because she was now so slippery in her, and that my prick was desensitized because I'd just cum, that there was very little stimulation. For my prick, I mean. My MIND was still going a mile a minute, thinking that I NEEDED to make Monique happy. 
 
It doesn't sound very romantic, but what I did to Monique then was basically poke and prod her. I tried to go as deep as I could to hit that special spongy place I'd found in other girls, that they seemed to love me poking so much. And I made sure to grind against her clitty as much as I could. And, of course, at the same time, I sucked those luscious nipples as often as I could get my lips locked around one. 
And Monique got happy. In fact, I'd have to say, with no little pride, she got ecstatic. She wiggled and squirmed and thrust and made all kinds of very nice noises that told me she was happy and then some. She had tense, but quiet orgasms, during which she almost always tried to keep her lips closed, making a "MMMMMM" sound before her face split into a wide grimace that looked like pain. But her voice told me she wasn't in any pain at all. And if her voice wasn't enough, her hands, sliding along my back ... gripping my buttocks and pulling when she did that little grimace, and her hips pushing up hard, told me that Monique was glad she was there under me, with her pussy full of my spunk, as I poked and prodded her through three more orgasms. 
 
I couldn't manage to cum again. I wanted to. I wanted to BAD. But it just wasn't going to happen. But you know? That didn't really bother me. Monique was so happy about all this that just watching her was as much fun as cumming was. 
 
After her third orgasm I stopped for a while. I was pretty tired by then. I kissed her, slipping my tongue into her mouth and she kissed me back. 
 
"Was that what you had in mind?" I asked, not sure I really should have opened myself up to criticism. 
 
"I love you Bobby," she said simply. 
 
"No you don't." I said, kissing her again with a quick peck. "It's just the hormones talking." 
 
"Do you have to stop now?" she asked, ignoring my comment. 
 
"I'm pretty well used up." I admitted. 
 
"Thank you," she said. She was so polite and happy sounding. It just made my heart soar. "Suzy said you'd be gentle and nice." she added. 
 
As I recalled it I'd stuffed Suzy too full of cock, too fast, and it hadn't been very gentle at all. And then after she got used to it I wasn't very gentle either. And with Marge? I'd pounded the crap out of her. 
 
But Unique Monique was happy with me, and all the world was right. 
 
"No problem." I tossed off. 
 
"You don't have to get up off of me." said happy Monique. "I like the way you feel lying on me." 
 
Monique wasn't in a hurry to get back to the girls and regale them with her description of Bobby in action. Monique wanted to be with me ... wanted to keep feeling my skin rubbing against her skin ... wanted more kisses. 
 
Well, what Monique wanted was a few more orgasms. And somewhere - I don't have any idea where, mind you - she learned that teenage boys can recuperate quickly. Monique strung it out until Mr. Happy woke up and said "Huh? Is she still here? OH BOY!" 
 
Monique got herself two more orgasms. 
 
AND another pussyful of spunk. 

  
  ==========================

The next morning at breakfast was a little easier than the last time. This time there were four girls sitting around the table who had felt my cock spurting up inside them, including Claire, who was still a secret as far as I knew. Only Miss September and Knobby Robby looked at me like I was some kind of interesting exhibit in a zoo. Well, Donna did anyway. Roberta still wouldn't look at me directly, but I felt her eyes on me when I wasn't looking her way. Usually Robby would talk to me, even when the others stuck up their noses at "that boy". But since I had been destroying virginities right and left, she hadn't said so much as a word to me. I kind of missed that. 
 
So I tried to strike up a conversation with her. 
 
"Hey Robby, you want to shoot some hoops or something later?" I offered. 
 
There were titters around the table. Too late I realized what all of them thought I meant by "or something". Robby's response was totally unpredicted. 
 
"Not with YOU!" she blurted. Then she turned as bright a shade of crimson as I'd ever seen a girl's face get. 
 
That led to enough laughter that my mother turned around from the counter. "What's going on?" she asked, staring at us all. 
 
Everybody got quiet. It was the worst thing they could have done. My mother was a sharp cookie. 
 
Thankfully she assumed what she'd always assumed. "Bobby, have you been picking on Roberta again? I TOLD you not to do that young man. And I TOLD you what I'd do if you continued." She was getting worked up into a rant and there wasn't anything I could do about it. 
 
Of all the people to save me I didn't think it would be Robby. But she did. 
 
"It's OK Mrs. Watkins said Robby. He knows I twisted my ankle the other day and he knows that's the only way he could beat me at basketball. He was just offering to play me when I'm not at my best." 
 
I didn't know if she'd actually twisted her ankle or not, but she hadn't been hobbling around. If she was lying she was good at it. There was no way she missed the double entendre that the other girls were giggling about. 
 
My mother took a breath. She liked to rant once in a while. But Robby had taken the wind out of her sails, making it sound like I was only trying to beat her at HORSE or something. Mom turned back around, muttering to herself about lame-brained boys trying to take advantage of poor injured girls. Robby only made it worse by sticking out her tongue at me. 
 
More titters from the posse, who had thoroughly enjoyed how things turned out. Robby had made me sound like a cretin and they hadn't gotten caught. All in all, the way they looked at it, it was girls one and boys zero. 
 
And here I thought they had started to like me or something. 
 
The posse hung around our house all that Saturday, but they avoided me like I was the plague or something. This is why guys go insane and shoot up post offices. Here I thought I was the new fair-haired boy, with pussy at my beck and call ... maybe ... and then they act like I'm some sort of unacceptable lout who doesn't deserve the courtesy of a simple acknowledgement. 
 
So I went off and played basketball with Phil and Dave. 
 
When I got back Claire was alone in the house. Mom and Dad had gone to their bowling league. 
 
"C'mere" said Claire authoritatively. "I want to show you something." 
 
I followed her, off balance at being treated like a human being. 
 
When we got to her room she turned around and her blouse was unbuttoned. What she wanted to show me was her tits. 
 
Then, to my astonishment she attacked me, throwing her arms around me and kissing me hard on the lips. When I grabbed her waist to keep my balance, my hands slid inside her shirt and landed on warm skin. 
 
I was kind of caught off guard, you know? I knew what she wanted ... but I didn't understand what was going on. Being smart enough not to stop and say "I don't understand, Claire." I just went with the moment, which evolved into both of us tearing off clothing like it was five hundred degrees and naked was the only way we'd survive. 
 
Then she plastered her naked body against my naked body and pulled me to the bed somehow, managing to keep her lip lock on me even as we fell onto the bed. That didn't work out very well, though, because half of us WASN'T on the bed, and that half, being our legs and buttocks, pulled us to the floor in a tangle. 
 
Claire actually LAUGHED! 
 
Then she scrambled up and pulled me up and this time we managed to get onto the bed in the standard missionary position, whereupon she fisted my iron hard cock - when did THAT get so hard? - and notched it into her pussy. I quit trying to think and just shoved. 
 
I just love the sound of a woman who's just been penetrated by my cock and likes it. There just isn't any sound in the world that's so sweet to my ears. 
 
And then it was off to the races. Claire was a violent, passionate lover - still is for that matter - and making love to her was a violent passionate affair. 
 
Thankfully she was able to get off even more quickly than I suddenly wanted to, and when I felt my jets of warm semen flushing into her pussy she was already stroking my back and panting that I was the best and that she loved me and that if I never stopped doing that to her it would be OK with her. 
 
I didn't have the air to speak until I'd rolled off of her and was lying beside her on the bed. She had two fingers on her pussy, rubbing little circles gently, almost casually, and was just staring up at the ceiling. 
 
"What was that all about?" I finally asked. "I thought you were pissed off at me." 
 
She turned her head and her eyes were nice ... soft. "Whatever gave you THAT idea?" she asked. "I just got so horny thinking about what you did with the girls that I just needed to feel you in me." 
 
I thought about all that "We'll see what happens in the future." crap she'd laid on me after our first time. Obviously she thought I was her little fuck toy or something. 
 
Then again ... life could be worse. 
 
"So Monique had a good time?" I hazarded. 
 
"Oh Monique had better than just a good time. Monique says that someday she's going to have your baby." My sister said that like it was the most normal thing in the world to tell a naked man lying beside her while she rubbed her clit. 
 
"So what was up with Robby?" I asked. So far my questions weren't getting me yelled at, and I had a serious lack of knowledge about what was going on. 
 
"She's scared. She doesn't want to do it with you." said Claire, as if she was talking about Robby not particularly liking Brussel sprouts, and not wanting it to be served to her for dinner. 
 
"Claire?" I said. 
 
"What?" she said back. 
 
"I don't want to hurt any of the girls." What I actually meant was a lot more complicated than that, but that was how it came out. 
 
"You're sweet," she said. "But don't worry about it. She'll come around." 
 
"I thought we weren't going to do this any more." I said suddenly. "You and me, I mean." 
 
She looked at me again. "That's wrong," she said. "We're going to do this a lot." 
 
Now I felt safe saying what I'd had the urge to say a while back. "I don't understand ... " Then I added. "I don't want to get any of the girls in trouble." I meant pregnant. 
 
"We're working on that." said my sister. Back then, getting on the pill wasn't easy unless your parents knew about it. And back then a fifteen or sixteen year old girl didn't just go to her parents and say "I think it's about time I went on the pill, don't you agree?"   And you could get condoms for a quarter in machines in the bathroom of gas stations, but they sold things like "Instant Pussy" in those machines too.  "Instant Pussy was this capsule that, when you dropped it into water, melted and inside was a little piece of foam that was shaped like a cat sitting down.   Ha Ha.  All us guys fell for that one, and it was an unspoken pact never to tell the uninitiated what it actually was.  But my point is, would you trust the condoms sold by the same company that sells "Instant Pussy"?
 
"For now" said Claire, "We just have to plan things according to our visits."
 
Girls used to talk about their periods being "visits". My sister had "visits" from Fred. That was her code word for her being on the rag. I don't think they do that nowadays, but they did back then. 
 
"What about Donna?" I asked. 
 
Claire looked funny at me. "You just squirted and you want to know about Donna?" she retorted. 
 
"I just don't want to do the wrong thing." I said. The number of times my sister and I had a serious conversation was not big. I guess we were growing up or something. We were sure doing grown up things that we'd never done before. She took that in stride too. 
 
"Don't worry about it" she said. "You're even better at this than I thought you'd be, even with what all the other girls say about you." Leave it to Claire to pay me a compliment and slap me in the face at the same time. "I think you'll know when the time is right when it comes to Donna and Roberta." 
 
Then, to my astonishment, she rolled over on top of me. "But let's talk later. How soon can you get hard again? I want to do it again." 
 
We affirmed that I could do it again really fast when I was motivated. She experimented with being on top and rode me fast and hard while I played with those breasts she'd wanted me to see. At least this time I warned her I was about to unload a heap of baby makers in her pussy before I did it. 
 
"It's OK," she panted. "I'm pretty safe right now." 
 
Not "I'm safe." 
 
Not "You won't make a baby in your little sister Bobby." 
 
Not "You'd better NOT make a baby in your little sister Bobby!" 
 
I came like a geyser, looking right at her flat empty belly as I filled it with hot teen spunk, thinking about what it would look like if it swelled up with my baby inside of it. Now that I think about it, that might be what made me so eager to make a baby in a woman later in life. 
 
Claire kissed me a lot as we both calmed down post-orgasmic. When she was happy with me she was a very loving sister. Those kisses made me want to go again, but Mr. Happy just wouldn't cooperate. She was done anyway. Two was enough for Claire, and she got all perky. There's nothing more erotic than a perky naked teenaged girl in my book. 
 
But I was done too. 


CHAPTER SIX
 
It was almost two months before I got any more sex. School had let out and it was June. The weather was great. The world should have been sweet. I wouldn't have thought a guy could get so worked up from a lack of nookie. I went out on a few dates, and found that it was much harder to stop when the girls wanted me to.  On the other hand, I had learned a lot with the posse.  I was getting better at getting them off, though, and there was always Mother Palm and her five daughters afterward, in my room, easing the strain. I began to think that Donna and Robby weren't going to accede to the sheriff's plan, but actually I didn't mind. I was ten times more lucky than most guys my age by then. Well, OK, four times more lucky, if you count the encores Claire and I had engaged in. 
 
I found out later that Claire had decided she needed to be a little more careful about things. She had waited until she knew Donna got her 'visit' and then counted down from that to decide when Donna should surrender her virginity to the posse's sex toy. She also wanted to make sure she had her own period after our dangerous afternoon delight. But she did and one day, in the middle of the day, Miss September rang the bell when I happened to be in the kitchen making a sandwich. My Mom was doing laundry and Claire was in her room. When I opened the door Donna stared at me and stepped back a step, blushing. If she'd have told me what she was there for in plain English she couldn't have been any clearer. 
 
Donna had come to deliver up her virginity to me.
 
I tried to put her at ease. "Donna! I'm so glad to see you. You're looking particularly beautiful today." 
 
Now, anybody who knew me would have done a double take to find out who the Watkins family had invited over, and who had taken it upon themselves to answer the door. They'd have seen me standing there, but never in a million years would they have believed it was actually me. Not after hearing me say something like that.   They'd have thought I had a twin brother nobody had ever heard about ... a polite twin brother, who had suddenly appeared.
 
Donna didn't believe it either. "I'm so STUPID!" she said to herself. "I can't do this." She turned around to leave and I called to her. 
 
"DONNA!" 
 
I could see her body jerk in sympathy with her wince. She stopped and turned partly around, looking at me over her shoulder. Man she was good looking! 
 
I tried again. "Look, Donna, you don't have to do anything. OK? Just because the rest ... well it doesn't matter what they did, OK? You don't have to do anything. Nothing has to change." 
 
I was really trying to put her at ease, but it didn't work. 
 
"I knew that's what you'd say. Suzy said you'd say that. But everything already HAS changed Bobby. It's just not the same any more." 
 
Well, she was right about that of course. I went outside and sat down on the top step. 
 
"You're right I guess." I started out. "I mean there have been changes. Big ones too, as far as I'm concerned. But that doesn't have to change things between you and me." 
 
Now that was a patently stupid speech. Donna and I didn't really have a relationship to change. We'd known each other for years but, other than lusting after her for the last two or three of them, the only communication between us had been in the form of barbs or jokes or whatever. None-the-less, I patted the porch beside me, inviting her to sit down. She did, leaving a good foot and a half between us. She was looking down and her long red hair shielded her face from me. 
 
"Why did you guys even agree to do ... this ... in the first place. I mean that's really screwy." I said. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but to be honest I was really amazed that you all would make that kind of pact." 
 
She looked at me through her hair. "You really don't understand, do you." It wasn't a question. 
 
"I guess I don't." I said. 
 
"And you just thought Claire came up with this wild plan and we went along with it," she said. 
 
"I guess so." I had a premonition that I was about to hear something I might not like. 
 
"So you think we're all brainless imbeciles who Claire can push around and make do whatever she says." 
 
That sounded ominous. 
 
"Well, no." I lied. "I mean I know you're all best friends and all that, and they're forever telling us that peer pressure can be good or bad. I just thought ..." I trailed off as I realized that what I thought would just confirm her suggestion. "I don't know what to think." I added, trying to salvage the situation. 
 
She looked at me for a minute. "Do you really call me Miss September because you think I look like that Playboy Bunny?" 
 
"Yes." I answered immediately. The truth was easy to come up with. "But I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." She didn't say anything. "If I did." I kept trying to salvage as much as I could. 
 
"Does that mean you think I'm sexy?" she asked. 
 
"Yes." I said. Keep it simple. That's my motto. Unless I'm engaged in serious bullshitting.  All these repeated questions about whether they looked sexy, and whether I liked them had convinced my brain that they weren't just simple questions.  Not to the girls.  They were REAL questions ... important questions ... questions that the answers to mattered.
 
"Then why didn't you ever ask me out on a date?" she asked. 
 
Now that was an interesting question. It was interesting because it had a multitude of answers. Some of those answers I thought would be obvious to her. I tried one of them first. 
 
"Well, you're two years younger than me." I started out. 
 
"So is Mandy Peters, and you took her out." she came back immediately. 
 
That was true. I had asked Mandy out. She was a Freshman cheerleader and I had the hots for her. She drew the line at kissing, though. She had an older sister who had gotten pregnant right out of High School and the father had taken off and joined the Army. She didn't want to have anything to do with anything that could remotely make babies. As it turned out she was the one who broke up with me, because she fell in love with a football player.   Five months later she was walking around with a swollen belly.   Life just isn't fair that way.
 
"OK, then, you're one of Claire Bear's friends." I said. 
 
"So is Tiffany Baldridge, and you took her out." shot back Donna. 
 
That, too, was true, though Tiffany was a year older than them and wasn't in the posse. She and Claire had dance classes together and she'd come over a few times, but when the dance classes were done they didn't hang around each other much. She had actually asked me to a dance at school - the annual Sadie Hawkins dance - and we'd had a lot of fun. She liked to have her breasts fondled, and she had really nice breasts, which I liked fondling, so it had worked out pretty well. But she wanted to do more, and, because she wanted to do more, she broke up with me because she actually DIDN'T want to do more. That was what she told me when she said we couldn't go out any more. 
 
Who understands teenaged girls? 
 
"But she's not in the posse." I argued. 
 
"So being in the posse means you won't ask any of us out?" she asked in that tone that meant it wasn't a real question. 
 
"I guess. It would just seem ... odd." I said. 
 
"But having sex with us isn't ... odd." Her voice was level, but I could hear heat in it. 
 
I was trying to make her feel better, but it was making me feel worse somehow. And I definitely smelled danger in this conversation. 
 
I fell back on another answer I'd thought of. It was one that I was afraid would get me in trouble, but it was all I had left. 
 
"I've always thought you were cute, and if I'd have taken you out I'd have tried to get in your panties, and if that didn't work out then you'd have been mad and still coming over to see Claire and it would have been all awkward. Or it might even have broken up your friendship with Claire." I let that drop into the semi-silence of a spring afternoon. I could hear a lawn mower off in the distance somewhere. 
 
Donna brushed the hair behind her shoulder and I could suddenly see her whole face. "Is that true?" she asked. "Is that the real reason you never asked me out?" 
 
We had been talking about why I hadn't asked her out for ten minutes, and I just that second realized that she'd WANTED me to ask her out ... and I never had. Us guys can be dense like that sometimes. 
 
"Uh ... yeah, I guess it is." I said. I wouldn't have believed me if I'd been hiding in the bushes listening to this conversation. 
 
But she did. 
 
"And the others? Is that why you never asked any of us out?" 
 
I was in trouble. If I answered "Yes" then that meant I'd lusted after all of them at one time or another. That was actually true, except for maybe Robby.  But you didn't admit that to a girl who you'd just admitted to lusting after. Right? 
 
On the other hand, if I answered "No" then that meant I didn't think her friends were all cute and that there were some of them I DIDN'T lust after, which meant I was a pig because they were all her friends. Right? Plus I had agreed to have sex with them.
 
Now you know why teenaged boys don't want to enter into serious conversation with girls. It's too much like taking a stroll in a mine field. 
 
I came up with something brilliant. "I think I never seriously considered asking any of you out because it might cause problems. I didn't want Claire to be mad at me, and I didn't want any of you to be mad at me, so it was easier just to keep things ... you know ... on a simpler level.  I guess I like all of you and don't want to mess that up." 
 
She looked at me with those green eyes of hers and said "If you're lying I'll cut your balls off. You want to go swimming?" 
 
Girls can do that. They can deliver the most dire threat and then say something completely innocuous in the same tone of voice so that you almost think there was no threat there at all. You think you must have misunderstood them. But somehow I knew that Miss September owned a knife, or knew where to get her hands on one. I envisioned a filleting knife, one of those long thin ones that are extremely sharp. At the same time, she wasn't trying to leave any more. That would have gotten me in trouble with Claire, no doubt, so things were better. Right? 
 
"Sure." I said. "Let me go get Claire." 
 
"No" she said firmly. "Just you and me. Down at the creek." 
 
Damn. I'd stepped on another mine. It was one of those that doesn't go off until you let the pressure off, and I was standing right on top of it. 
 
"OK, but if I get in trouble you have to back me up." I said. 
 
"Deal," she said. She stood up, and for the first time, I saw she had a rolled up towel in her hand. Inside it was, no doubt, her bathing suit. She'd brought it with her. 
 
"You already have your suit." I was a master of pointing out the obvious. 
 
"It was Claire's idea. She planned on having you take us - her and me - down to the creek.   I got the idea you and I were supposed to fool around when we get there.  She's impatient with me because I don't want to do this.   But having Claire there would creep me out.   I'll go with just you, except I'm not so sure about the fooling around part, OK?" 
 
"OK" I said, not at all sure that this was a good idea. 
 
"Just get your suit and a towel and some suntan lotion," she said. "And DON'T tell Claire what you're doing." 
 
Who would say "no" to Miss September? 
 
Fifteen minutes later I was strolling along beside Miss September, three blocks from home ... and Claire ... heading for the creek. 
 
"Creek" is probably the wrong word for where we were headed. Everybody called it that, but it was lots bigger than a creek. It wasn't quite a river though, and if it had a real name I don't know what it was. Everybody called it Turkey Creek, because there were wild turkeys in the woods around it. There were two bends in Turkey Creek where it went by our town. One was an accepted swimming hole, with a rope swing, and a little broken down dock you could jump off of. The water there was probably eight or nine feet deep and that's where most of the kids went to play and swim if they didn't go to the city pool. It cost fifty cents to go to the city pool, which sometimes made the difference. 
 
The other bend was flanked on one side by dense woods, and the other by old Mr. Jenkins' hay field. It had all manner of signs warning trespassers to stay away, but Mr. Jenkins was probably eighty and never came down there unless he was on a tractor. You could hear that a mile away. The water there was only about four feet deep and the bottom had that kind of mud that squishes between your toes and you have to actually scrub at it to get your feet clean when you've been wading in it. It was good for lying on the grass to dry off and do some sunbathing, but most people didn't actually swim there. 
 
That's where Donna wanted to go. 
 
It was probably only seventy-five degrees, and the water was really cold still, so while we went in and waded around for a little while, we didn't spend long in there. Then we lay out on the towels. Donna had on a two piece swimming suit that was greenish blue and had pictures of fish on it. It was styled about like a pair of bra and panties, but the fish spoiled the illusion. She lay down on her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. 
 
We had been talking about nothing in general.   You know, how nice the weather was, and how gooey the mud was between our toes, and whether there were fish in the creek, and whether they would bite if there were.  Just stuff.  When I lay down beside her though, that changed.
 
"You know I went and found that magazine," she said.  "The one you said had the woman in it you named me after."
 
It was hard enough for a boy to get his hands on a Playboy in those days.  I couldn't imagine how a girl did.  "How in the world did you get one?"  I asked.  Not "What did you think of her?" or "You're just as pretty as she is."   It was a practical question, and guys are practical, even when we shouldn't be.
 
"Well ... actually ... I told my mother about it and she brought the magazine home for me to look at," she said.
 
Now Donna could have told me that little green men from Mars had just landed behind me and were about to zap me with a Buck Rogers ray gun and I would NOT have been more astonished.  Her MOTHER bought a Playboy?  To show her fourteen year old DAUGHTER?!  
 
"Wow." was all I could manage.  Then I blurted "You told your MOTHER?!"
 
Donna laughed.  "Of course I did.  I didn't know whether to be mad or flattered.  My Mom's grown up so I knew she'd know what to tell me.  She laughed about it first.  She likes you.  She said it had to be a compliment, but she'd never seen a Playboy either, so she went to the Rexall and bought one.  She said Mr. Johnson about had a cow when she asked for it.  She said it was worth the dollar twenty-five just to see the look on his face when he handed it to her."
 
I had a vivid vision of Donna's mother, who was a beautiful woman in her own right, standing in the drug store holding out her hand for a girly magazine that Mr. Johnson kept behind the counter so that us boys wouldn't be corrupted by looking through it.  Of course HE had undoubtedly looked through it, quite thoroughly, and was now having to hand it to a woman.  I laughed at what must have been going through Mr. Johnson's mind.  
 
"Wow" I said again.  "That's amazing."
 
"Why is it so amazing?" asked Donna.  "If men can look at naked women, why can't anybody else?"
 
"I don't know." I said.  "It must seems weird, I guess."  It was a philosophy I could get used to though.  I thought about sitting around with a bunch of girls and looking at pictures of naked women.  That might actually be interesting.  It was one of those completely new ideas - something you never had a glimmer of a thought about before -  that hit you right in the middle of the forehead and knocked you off course.
 
"So what did you do then?" I asked.
 
"We opened it up and looked for the woman named Donna.  She was in the middle and her picture opened out and was real long."
 
I knew that.  I'd looked at the same picture.  I was entranced now with this story.
 
"So what did you think?" I asked.
 
"I thought you were an idiot," she said calmly.  "I didn't look anything like that woman.  She was all beautiful and sexy and ... well she was beautiful."
 
"You're wrong." I said firmly.  "You look so much like her that she could be one of your relatives."
 
"I thought she looked like my mother, not me."  
 
I disagreed.  Mrs. Miles had blond hair with reddish highlights, not dark red like Donna.  Of course her breasts were larger and her hips too, and she had that hour glass figure that the woman in Playboy had, but I had superimposed Donna's picture over the Bunny's picture for so long I couldn't see anyone else.
 
"What did your mother say?"  I asked.
 
"She told me it was too bad we were so young," she said.
 
"What?" I asked.
 
"She said 'Donna, honey, it's too bad you two are so young.  He's going to make a good catch for some girl some day.'"  Donna sighed.  "And then she said you'd paid me a very nice compliment.  She also said she might have a talk with your mother about older boys making compliments like that to younger girls."
 
My mother had never said anything about it.  I wondered if Mrs. Miles had actually talked to her.  I was distracted by a thought that landed in my brain.
 
"So, if she said it was a compliment ... and it was, by the way ... why did you always get mad when I called you that?"
 
"I was supposed to get mad," she said simply.  "Boy's are supposed to be polite and use your real name, not some made up name that when they use they think about sex."
 
"Your mother told you that?" I asked.
 
"No, I just knew it," she said.  
 
In case you didn't know it, girls are full of knowledge that they're born with and then discover floating around inside their brains from time to time as they grow up.  Some people call it "women's intuition" but I like my explanation better.
 
"So you didn't like it." I said.
 
"No, I loved it.  It made me feel pretty and special," she said.
 
I was thoroughly confused now.  "I don't understand.  You loved it, but you got mad when I used it and thought about you as sexy, right?"
 
"No, I got mad at you for not ACTING like I was sexy.  You said it and it was like you were teasing me, saying I wasn't REALLY sexy and pretty, but my mother said I was.  But you never asked me out so I thought maybe she was wrong."  It sounded like Donna was as confused as I was.  Now that I'm older I know we were both confused, and both normal.
 
"Well I DO think you're beautiful, and I bet you look just like that other Donna naked."  I have no idea what made me get that forward with her, but I did.
 
"No, I'm not.  There's something wrong with my breasts," she said.
 
Naturally I looked at what was hanging off her chest as she said that.  Her suit didn't show much more than a little cleavage.
 
"Really?" I asked.  She brought it up, right?
 
"If you won't laugh I'll tell you," she said.
 
"Of course I won't laugh." I said.
 
"I have inverted nipples," she said.
 
She may as well have been speaking Latin.  It must have showed on my face, because she explained it to me.
 
"Miss September's breasts had nipples, right?" she asked.
 
I nodded.
 
"And they stuck out, right?"
 
I nodded again.
 
"Well mine don't.  They go in, like my belly button."
 
I tried to look at her belly button and she actually rolled onto her side so I could see it.  It was a normal inny looking belly button.  Then I realized what that must make her breasts look like.
 
"Wow." I said.
 
"Yeah, the doctor said not to worry about it and that they'll be normal when I grow up.  I asked him how that would happen and he said that when I got married everything would be fixed, but he wouldn't explain it.  He said I might have to wait until I had a baby and then they'd get normal for sure.  But what man is going to want to have a baby with me when my breasts look deformed?"
 
Once in a while, a teenaged boy can think clearly.  It's rare, or so they tell me, and they say that actual, reliable rational thought isn't possible until you are in your early twenties, but you can have glimpses of what that's like in your teens.
 
This was such a time. 
 
I suddenly realized exactly why Donna didn't want me to take her virginity.  She didn't want me to see her deformed breasts.  The other girls had, no doubt, talked about how nice it was to have your nipples sucked, but Donna knew, or thought she knew, that I'd be disgusted by her inverted nipples.
 
"Donna?" I said.
 
She looked at me.
 
"Would you let me kiss you?"  I felt bad for her.  She wanted boys to ask her out, but was terrified that they would, and would then want to grope her, like all boys tried to do with all girls.  And if they did, then they'd find out her secret and be all horrified and tell all the other boys she was deformed and an alien or something.
 
"Why?" she asked.
 
"I want to kiss you." I said.  That was true.  This girl had shared something with me that went beyond our current relationship.  I wanted to give her something back.
 
"Why?" she asked again.
 
"All you have to say is 'No' and I won't bother you about it any more." I said, instead of trying to answer her question.
 
"I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you," she said infuriatingly.  "I just want to know why you want to."
 
I got frustrated and told her something no guy should ever tell a girl - the truth.  "I want to kiss you because I think you'll like it, and then we'll kiss more, and I hope you'll get turned on and let me take your bathing suit off and we can fool around."  I realized with horror what I'd just said.  "OK?"  I tried to make it sound like I had been joking.
 
"You want to see my inverted nipples, don't you?" she suggested.  "You won't like them.  You'll think they're gross and you'll be disgusted.  Then I'll be mad at you.  That's why I said I don't want to do all this virginity stuff."
 
"I want to make you feel good." I countered.  "I don't care if your nipples are inverted or not.  I can make you feel good other ways."
 
She thought about it for a long time.  Then she looked at me.  "You have to promise not to screw me," she said.
 
"I wouldn't do that unless you told me to anyway." I said in my own defense.
 
"That's not exactly the way Marge and Suzy told it." said Miss September.
 
That was interesting.  Monique claimed they both said I was gentle and sweet.  But when they did that Donna apparently heard in that same language that I almost raped them.
 
"Well, I didn't force them or anything." I said.  I did NOT want it getting around that I forced girls to do ANYTHING.
 
"Promise me.  Everybody swears you keep your promises," she said.
 
"OK, I promise.  Your virginity is safe with me." I said. "For today." I added, grinning.
 
She didn't grin though, or even smile.  She sat up and, to my amazement, took off her bottoms.
 
"I didn't even kiss you yet." I objected.  A guy has some pride, you know, and getting a girl to do things after you kiss her means you overcame her natural defenses with your suaveness and debonairness, you know?
 
"Shall I put them back on?" she asked.  It sounded like she was completely serious.  I hadn't seen anything yet, because in the process of taking her bottoms off she'd drawn her knees up to her chest.
 
"No!  That's OK." I said.  If she'd have been a few years older she'd have fallen over laughing.  But she was scared and nervous.
 
"Maybe I should just let you screw me," she said.  "Only you can't see my breasts.  Would you do that?" she asked.
 
I knew the answer to this question.  She was trying to trip me up.  It had been tried by experts.   
 
"No." I said.  "I promised not to."   Hah!  Take that!   Try to mess with me and you'll lose for sure.
 
"But I'm ashamed of them.  I'd really rather let you screw me than let you see my deformed breasts."  
 
I began to think she actually meant it.  I had a dribble of gallant in me, along with all that suaveness and debonairness I depended on so much.  "Look, Donna, I like you and you really do remind me of Miss September, and I told you I don't care about your nipples.  I just want to kiss you and fool around a little and make you feel good.  Is that so much to ask?"
 
I learned this from girls.  You tell someone you want to do something that will be fun for YOU, and then make it sound like you're doing it for THEM, and that if they don't let you do it they're being selfish.  It reduces guys to puddles of fear and shame.  To my amazement it worked on a girl too!
 
She reached behind her and closed HER eyes and the top of her suit went slack.  She carefully removed it and lay it on the towel beside her.
 
They did look strange.  Weird was not too strong a word.  Her breasts were nice and round and white looking, but where there should have been nipples ... there were sunken in dips.  Those dips were the color of nipples, but they went in, instead of out.  Imagine a girl made of modeling clay.  Then you poke her nipple and make a hole in the tip of her breast.  That's what it looked like.  It looked like somebody had poked her and driven her nipples into her breasts.
 
I let some more gallant rise to the surface.  "Would you be mad if I wanted to be naked too, and hug you while I kiss you?" I asked.
 
Her eyes popped open and she looked startled.  I'm sure she was absolutely convinced that I'd gag, throw up, or scream and run or something like that.  Instead I kept acting like a horny boy.
 
Which I was.  No sex for over two months, remember?
 
"Remember ... you promised." she reminded me.
 
I shucked my suit and she craned her head to look.  I got up on my knees and let her see my mostly hard cock.  Then I stood up and moved my towel next to hers so I could lie down beside her.  She stared at my cock the whole time.
 
"I can't believe you put that in my friends," she said.
 
"Well, believe it." I said, some macho making itself known.
 
I used the same little nibbling kisses on Donna that I'd used on Suzy.  I just overpowered her defenses with those little soft kisses.  Pretty soon she was kissing me back.  She felt good against me.  Even though it was warm, just the feel of skin against skin is nice and my cock was pressed up against her hip.  
 
I trailed some kisses down her neck to her throat and got a little noise from inside her.  That was a good sign.
 
We just made out for probably fifteen minutes.  It was nice, but it made me hard as a rock.  She could feel it too, pressing against her hip.  I pulled back a little to see if she would go for more.
 
"You know, with some of the others, I kissed them other places."
 
"Oh I know all about that," she said.  "They talked about how fantastic it was and all that."
 
"So ...?"  I left the question unsaid.
 
"I don't know," she said.  Her voice sounded like she was telling the truth.  She really didn't know whether to let me or not.  I started kissing her neck again and her head lolled.  When I got to her collar bones and kissed along them, she let me roll her onto her back.  One hand went to cover her pubes.
 
I kissed down the swell of her breast, getting closer and closer to that strange ... wrong ... nipple.  I had stuck my tongue inside several of the girls' belly buttons, and they seemed to like that, so when I got to that inverted nipple I did the same thing.  I stuck my tongue down in that dip and pressed.
 
Donna jerked and her head came up off the ground, her eyes wide.  
 
"That feels nice!" she said, surprise evident in her voice.
 
I had sucked nipples before, but never a whole breast tip.  I tried that and got enough flesh in my mouth that I was able to play with it a little bit.  I started with my mouth wide, sucking in the whole tip of the breast and then let it slowly slide out of my mouth as I pulled off of it.  I was just playing with her breasts.  I knew that it felt good for a breast to be played with, and since I couldn't suck the nipples I sucked what I could get to.
 
I was therefore, immensely surprised when, about the third time I did it, there was a nipple in my mouth when I got to the very tip.  Instead of a dip, or a hole, there was suddenly a nipple.  I was so surprised that I opened my mouth and looked.  I was just in time to see that nipple suck back inside her breast.
 
Donna knew something had happened too.  She had laid her head back, enjoying my play, but now she raised her head again.  "What happened?" she asked, anxious.
 
"What did that feel like?" I asked.  "Right there at the end."
 
"I got all tingly and I felt things ... somewhere else," she said.
 
"Where did you feel it?" I asked.
 
"I can't tell you.  It's ... private," she said.
 
"Donna, we're naked, in the middle of a hay field and I'm putting my mouth all over you.  I'm really hoping to put my mouth ALL over you before we're done.  What could possibly be so private you couldn't tell me about it?"
 
She blushed.  "I felt it in my ... pussy."
 
"Let me try it again and see if we can repeat what happened." I said.
 
She lay her head back down.
 
I repeated the exercise but my mouth slipped off because her breast was slippery.  I tried again, sucking harder, and was rewarded by her nipple popping back out.  This time I kept it out by keeping up the suction.  
 
Miss September writhed under me.
 
"Ohhhh Bobby, what's happening?  That feels so strange."
 
I had to let go of the nipple to tell her.  Her head was up again when I did and she saw it as it slowly sucked back into her breast flesh.
 
"I think I un-inverted your nipple." I said.
 
"Do the other one." she demanded.
 
I did, but that one took longer to get it to come out.  In the end, though, it did.
 
She was ecstatic, and excited, and at least three other active verbs of an emotional nature, and wanted me to keep going.
 
I did, but after a while it began to hurt her, so I quit.  But she was radiant, smiling and of the opinion that I had done something of major significance.  When she kissed me this time she meant it, and those kisses got hot and wet.
 
At one point she said "Didn't you say you were going to kiss me in other places?"
 
I took the hint and moved down to her red bush.  Donna's pussy lips were a little like her inverted nipples.  They were tight and thin and pressed together hard.  I had to push hard with my tongue to get them to open up.
 
But when they did, and her legs relaxed with them, Donna was VERY appreciative.   I had to pull her pussy lips apart with my fingers to find her clit, and even it was sunken into its sheath.  Everything about Donna was work, but in every case, her response to the work it took to get there was immensely satisfying.
 
There was one thing about Donna that wasn't tight and tense and underdeveloped.  That was her voice when she came.  It built, kind of like when  you hear a cop coming from blocks away, with his siren on, and he gets closer and closer until he's right there and the siren is beating against your ears.  She was like that.  I heard her moaning, and the moan got louder in time with the thrusts she made against my face with her pussy until she was wailing loud enough I knew somebody would hear and come to investigate who was being murdered in old Mr. Jenkins' hay field.  Then her moans faded away, just like that siren fades as it passes you and the cop speeds on down the road, away from you.
 
Then it was slobbery kisses and Donna didn't put her hip in the way of my cock any more.  She let it poke wherever it wanted to poke, which, sometimes, was right into the place where her legs came together.
 
We lay there for a while, just being close to each other, with a little kiss now and then.  Ten minutes later she asked me if I'd do it again.  She was so appreciative that I didn't mind that my balls were beginning to hurt a little, so we played what I later called "cops and robbers" again.  She really did sound like a police siren, and the second time she came I was entirely glad that we hadn't done this in my bedroom, in the middle of the night.  My parents would have stampeded into my room armed with ball bats and golf clubs.
 
She was even MORE appreciative after that second orgasm, and told me she'd changed her mind and that if I wanted her virginity it was mine.
 
It almost killed me to decline.  I'd made a promise, and I kept my promises.
 
"No, really, I mean it Bobby," she said, her hand finding my rock hard cock.
 
"I know you do Donna, but you're the one who made me promise."
 
"I KNOW I made you promise, but I take it back.  I am making you un-promise."
 
"You can't make me un-promise" I said reasonably.  "A promise is a promise."
 
"But I'm HORNY!" she squealed.
 
So I went back down on her and gave her a third orgasm.  During that one I started jacking off.  If I didn't cum soon I'd explode.  
 
She felt what I was doing and asked me "Are you masturbating?"
 
"Mpfht" I said into her pussy.  It had relaxed a little and now her pussy lips were darker.  When she came she just got kind of greasy/slippery.  She tasted tangy, but didn't seem to get sopping wet like some of the others.
 
"Wait and I'll do it for you," she groaned.  Then she went back to warming up her siren.
 
The cops chased the robbers by us one last time and I raised up to look at Miss September, splayed out naked below me.  She was gorgeous, inverted nipples and all, and I started spanking my monkey furiously.
 
She started to sit up.  "I told you ... let me."
 
I held up my other hand.  "This time <pant pant> just let me <pant pant> next time <pant pant> you can do it."
 
I should have asked her if it would be ok if I blew my cork all over her, but I was too excited.  She was lying there, legs still spread, like she was waiting for me to fuck her, and she was willing to let me fuck her, and as that scenario ran through my head my balls coughed and a long line of hot spunk shot out of the tip of my cock and landed from pussy to throat.
 
She gasped and her eyes got as big as silver dollars, and I laid two more ropes of silvery spend beside that first one.
 
Miss September squealed "OH BOBBY!!" and, instead of getting mad about it, rubbed that spunk all over her skin, across her inverted nipples, and up onto her neck, and all around her belly and even between her legs, though I doubt seriously those tight pussy lips let anything in.
 
It took us ten minutes to calm down and then we went swimming again to clean up.  By then we'd been gone a long time and what with Claire probably wondering where the hell Donna was, I figured we'd better get back.
 
It was on the walk back that Donna told me she'd been in love with me since she was eleven, and that I'd broken her heart at least three dozen times, and that every girl in the posse felt exactly the same way.  Except Claire, of course.
 
Little did Donna know.
 
She also told me that her virginity was mine, whether I took it later today or ten years from today.  Then, very seriously, she said that she couldn't be my girlfriend, because that really would cause problems in the posse, and that she hoped I understood.
 
For once, as I strolled in that minefield, I managed to miss every single mine.
 
Until we got back home, that is.  Claire was sitting on the porch, and she was pissed. 


CHAPTER SEVEN
 
I probably should have felt bad.  It was clear that Claire, when Donna hadn't come over like she had promised,  had been worried about where her friend was.  The funny thing was that she reacted to seeing us like a parent does whose kids have been missing.
 
"Where the HELL have you two been?" she yelled.  "I was about to call the POLICE because I thought you must be DEAD!"
 
Then she saw our swimming suits, which we were still wearing, and our clothes bundled up in our towels.
 
"You went swimming without me," she said, making it sound like we'd killed puppies for fun.  She stood up suddenly, facing Donna.  "Did you ...?"
 
Donna looked the Sheriff right in the eye and said "I did not.  And it's none of your business if I DID!"
 
Claire started to argue and they went inside.  I could hear their yells as they argued about whose business it was, and what had we been doing if we didn't do that and on and on. 
 
I stayed outside, where it was safe.  It turned out to be a nice sunset, and the stars were beautiful too.  I could still hear them yelling at each other as I spotted Orion.
 
Donna was different than the other girls in that she didn't accede to Clair's rule that we could only have one ... liaison until all of the girls had done the deed with me. She rationalized that, since I hadn't taken her virginity, then she should be allowed to do things with me whenever we felt like it until such time as I HAD taken her virginity. She looked at it as sort of a loophole, I guess. 
 
As for me, I was pretty sure, based on how tight her opening had been when I probed it with my tongue, that when she actually DID lose her virginity, it would be a painful affair. And, while I wanted to fuck Miss September in the worst way, I wasn't too sure I wanted her to associate me with that pain for the rest of her life. 
 
On the other hand, I loved making her nipples pop out and, over the next month, we managed to create situations when there was both time and opportunity for me to suck on her breasts for fifteen or twenty minutes. At those times either her hand, or mine, would snake into her pants and rub her off to an orgasm. We both made sure there was something around to muffle her cries of pleasure. We used, at one time or another, a bed pillow, couch pillow, my shirt (which didn't work very well), a towel from the bathroom and, of all things, one of her mother's dresses.   That last one was in her house, while her parents were gone and she was doing the laundry because that was one of her chores that day.
 
She also decided to learn how to suck my cock, to reward me for the fact that each time I suckled at her sensitive inverted nipples, they stayed out a few seconds longer before slowly being sucked back into her breast flesh. 
 
It happened one day when she came over to see Claire about something, and Claire wasn't home yet from a dentist appointment.  So we used the opportunity to play.  At one point she was on her knees, down by my hip, playing with my hard prick.   She stared at it as she slid her hand up and down and then her hand stopped in the down position.  She just held that position and I lifted my head to look at her.  She looked up at me and had what I could only call a wary look in her eye.  
 
"Monique talked to me the other day," she said.
 
"OK." I said.
 
"She wanted to know why it was taking so long for us to ... you know."
 
"Don't worry about it.  We'll get there when the time is right." I said.  Donna had suggested to me several times that I needed to take what was 'mine'.  But I didn't want to rock the boat.  Things had improved between me and Robby a little bit.  She wasn't so snippy all the time.  I had gotten the idea that she didn't like me sticking my prick in her friends.   She wouldn't talk about it, but she had begun to talk to me again every so often.  And even though I wanted to fuck Donna, I was having enough fun with her that I didn't NEED to fuck her.  Does that make sense?  And I still didn't know that the other girls wanted to do it with me again, but couldn't because I hadn't finished my assigned task.  There were still two cherries on the tree.
 
"Just tell them I won't do it to you." I said.
 
"I can't tell them that.  They'd want to know why and you won't tell me and I don't know." she complained.  "I know you say not to worry about it, but I can't help it.  I WANT you to, and I know you know that, and believe me I can tell you'd LIKE to"  she took time to squeeze my obviously very erect penis, "but still ... you won't."
 
She had reminded me several times that she had released me from my promise not to fuck her.  I hadn't told her why I thought she'd hate me if I did fuck her, because I knew what her reaction would be.  She'd say she'd never hate me, and that it would be fine and all that, and then it would hurt bad and she'd bleed or something and hate me anyway.
 
I spoke with my most mysterious sounding voice, which I practiced in the mirror to get just right:  "You let me worry about when the time is right."
 
"SEE?" she said dismally.  Then "Hey I forgot.  Remember I said Monique talked to me?"
 
"Yeah?" I said.
 
"Well she told me what she did ... to you ... you know ... with her mouth?"
 
Wow.  I didn't think Monique would tell anybody about that.  Oral sex was something you heard about, but only bad kids did that kind of thing.
 
"So I thought maybe I could do that to you ... to sort of pay you back for making me feel so good," she said.
 
I kind of liked that idea.  I thought of myself as a bad boy.  
 
"OK" I said.
 
"Monique made me swear not to tell the others, though, and you can't either," she said solemnly.
 
"OK" I said again.  Shooting my spunk on Donna's belly and between her legs even was a real gas, but the thought of feeling her mouth on me had me REALLY going.
 
Donna wasn't taking any chances.  She was like that.  She made me make all kinds of promises to her, and then, just as often, took it all back.  This time, once I crossed my heart and agreed to let a thousand needles poke my eye if I broke the promise, she went about achieving perfection in the mysterious thing called a blow job ... with gusto. I personally think she had as much fun sucking on my stiff dork as I did sucking on those amazing nipples of hers.  The first dozen or so times, she had to masturbate me to get me off, but after a few weeks of practice, she learned some nuances that led to me filling her mouth one day.
 
There were three reasons I didn't warn her she was about to taste my nectar. First, she had endured having my cum splatter all over her at one time or another. We frequented the creek where she had her first orgasm with my tongue stuck in her and when she got Old Faithful to erupt and it went all over the place, we simply went into the creek and washed off. So I knew that just having my cum touch her didn't bother her. The second reason I didn't warn her was that one time when she didn't know I was looking at her, I saw her dip one finger in the spunk I had spurted on her and taste it.  I remember holding my breath to see what she would do then.  She looked over at me and I managed to make it look like I was looking in another direction and ... she did it again.  So I knew she didn't find the taste horrible.  And lastly, I was so enthralled with the feelings she was producing with her mouth, tongue and teeth that I just lay there in a trance and let it happen. 
 
When it did, and my cock painted the inside of her mouth and throat, she gave a strangled little yelp and lifted her mouth off my still spurting prick. There were strings of cum hanging from her lips, like she was some deranged jungle girl with rabies or something, and her eyes were real big and I couldn't help but laugh. 
 
While I laughed, Donna was in the process of ... processing. She processed the texture, and the taste, and what it was, and the fact that I was laughing at her, and she flopped down on top of me and rubbed her spermy lips all over my face, trying to kiss me while I tried not to let her kiss me. She finally quit and pushed up off of me, licking and smacking her lips. I heard her swallow once too. 
 
"THERE!" she yelled at me. "How does THAT taste you stupid boy?" 
 
I laughed again, only a little uncomfortable that my sperm was smeared all over my face and lips, but she was so beautiful naked and wild-eyed that I just loved being around her. 
 
"Actually, you don't taste so awful," she commented, wiping her mouth with her fingers. She looked at them for a minute and then sucked them into her mouth. Then she looked down at Mr. Happy, who was taking a nap in a puddle of spunk, and she went down there and licked all around him before sucking him back into her mouth to clean him off. 
 
It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that resulted in her drinking my cum on a more or less regular basis. 
 
The rest of the girls groused about how much time Donna and I spent together.   They thought she was taking entirely too long to get her cherry picked. Claire talked to me about it more than once, and I told her there were "issues" that we were working on. I finally suggested that maybe I should just rape Donna, if that would make Claire and the girls happy. Claire shut up about it after that. 
 
The only girl who never said anything to me about hurrying up and getting the job done was Robby. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't much interested in what I had hanging between my legs, Donna's claim that they all had been in love with me for years notwithstanding. I figured that was all just girl talk.  Puppy love.  Wanting to fit in.  That sort of thing.
 
Well, now that I think about it, I'd have to say Robby didn't say anything up to a point. I had routinely been astonished by these girls, and one or two of their mothers too, so I should have been braced for the unknown when Miss September skipped up to me one day and said "Wanna go swimming?" 
 
Don't misunderstand me. Donna had done that a lot. She liked that swimming spot and so far at least, we had kept it more or less a secret what went on there. Or so I thought. I should have known better. They were one for all and all for one, after all. So her invitation didn't surprise me and, in my own defense, it shouldn't have. It was what she said next that blew me away. 
 
"Can Roberta come? She wants to see what we do." 
 
Claire hadn't warned me about this at all. Apparently the Sheriff wasn't in as much control of her posse as she thought. I had been "punished" (no sex with Claire for as long as she could take it) for going swimming with Donna ... without Claire ... who had wanted to watch as I seduced her friend.  I think Claire looked at it like we just needed a little friendly help to get the deed done.  But, Donna had said she would have been creeped out if Claire watched.  Yet, now, for some reason that was probably completely unfathomable to a boy, she didn't mind if Robby watched us get it on. 
 
The first thing I thought of was her secret.  "But ... she'll see your nipples." I said. 
 
She looked at me like I was from the county nut farm. "Silly, she already knows about THAT. She wants to see something ELSE." 
 
"Claire doesn't know about this, does she." I stated. It wasn't a question, but I wanted confirmation. 
 
"Claire doesn't have to know everything." said Donna, unconcerned. Yes, there was definitely rebellion brewing in the ranks. I started to complain that the last time we'd done something contrary to what Claire wanted, I'd been punished. But to do that I'd have to admit what the punishment was, and they didn't know about me and Claire. So I kept quiet. 
 
Guys do that a lot. When there is danger that the truth might bring unhappiness, we keep our mouths shut. Say for instance you run over something with your father's prize car and it pokes a hole in the tire. It's not a really BAD hole, but the air leaks out slowly. So, instead of fessing up that you took the car behind the abandoned gas station to make out, where there are all these boards with nails in them lying around on the ground, you just keep filling the tire up with air, hoping, somehow that it will magically fix itself. Then, while the family is on the way to Uncle John and Aunt Melba's house, the tire fails and you're stuck out in the middle of nowhere in a hundred and ten degree temperatures with cranky parents who know they didn't run over anything to make the tire go flat. 
 
That's probably not the best example of what happens when we guys SHOULD fess up and take the heat, but opt to cut and run instead. But it's the best one I could think up on the spot, so there you go. 
 
My emotions at that moment were a little roiled. Robby had been acting very, very cool toward me for the last few months. If all this cherry popping had a down side, it was that it seemed to drive my one real female friend away from me. And now this. I didn't know how to react to it. But what was I supposed to say to Donna? Or to Robby for that matter? 
 
"Are you sure she wants to come with us?" I finally asked. "I didn't think she wanted anything to do with me any more." 
 
Donna had this way of looking at you like you were a bug under a microscope. It was very unnerving. She looked at me like that now. 
 
"How do you THINK she should feel? You haven't paid any attention to her for months." Donna could talk like she could look. 
 
"Well ..." I drew it out. "It always seems like she was mad at me or something." 
 
"Boys are so stupid sometimes." said Donna to her invisible friend. Then she took that tone that women use when they talk to little boys, explaining things to them. "You remember how it hurt my feelings that you never asked me out?" 
 
"Yeah." I said. 
 
"Well Roberta has NEVER been asked out ... by ANYBODY." 
 
Of course she was never asked out. She was Knobby Robby. She played football with us guys and beat us at races, and went fishing with us once in a while. She just wasn't the sort of girl that guys asked out. I had another flash of intelligence at that moment and thought it would be a VERY bad idea to say what I had just thought. 
 
"Maybe that's because she's so young." I offered. 
 
"She's the same age as the rest of us you ninny!" Donna said. "I thought we already HAD this conversation.  No, the reason nobody - she looked pointedly at me - asks her out is because she just doesn't have big breasts or wear makeup or try to make herself look sexy for stupid boys!" 
 
Donna was very logical, something I liked sometimes ... and hated at other times ... at least in her. 
 
"OK! Fine!" I said. I was getting just a tad bit surly about all this stuff I was supposed to figure out without any real clues. 
 
So I went and got my suit and promptly got caught by Claire, who saw me with the towel roll and wanted to know who I was going swimming with. 
 
By this time I was tired of trying to play politics. "Donna and Roberta" I said, uncharacteristically using their real names. 
 
My sister's mouth tightened into a firm line. "I'm going too," she said. 
 
I looked to make sure no adults were around and then said "OK, but we're all going to get naked and frolic in the grass like little elves." 
 
She shot me a look filled with broken bits of glass and old rusty razor blades, but she actually RAN to her room to get her stuff so I couldn't leave her behind. 
 
When I came out of the house and Donna was standing there waiting, Claire was right behind me. She looked down her nose at Donna. "Nice of you to invite ME." she huffed. 
 
Donna got her own back up. "Well, if you weren't always trying to boss me around I might invite you more often." 
 
So I walked between them on the way over to Robby's house. 
 
When we got there Roberta's mother was out in the garden. We had come through the alley and, as we entered the back gate we chorused "Hi Mrs. Simms." she stood up and put one hand in her back, like it ached and shaded her eyes with her other hand. She was a larger version of her daughter, thin and spare, with a flat chest and chestnut hair. She was the best cook in town and raised a lot of food in their garden that she canned in the fall. 
 
"Hi kids," she said. "Swimming, eh? Roberta's in the house. You all be careful now." 
 
We three chorused "We will. Thank you." We had manners that we used sparingly, mostly around each other's parents. 
 
Roberta was in the dining room, putting a picture puzzle together, of all things. I always thought of her as an active person, never standing still for long. I knew she was a big fan of Nancy Drew, so she sat and read, but that's the only relaxed picture I could ever conjure up of her in my mind. She looked up at the three of us and then fixed her eyes on Donna. 
 
Donna threw up her hands. "She invited herself!" 
 
That got Claire going again. "I thought we were FRIENDS!" she squealed. Her eyes started to fill up with tears. 
 
Donna looked shocked, somehow. "Well we ARE friends Claire Bear, but what are we supposed to be able to do if you're there? He's your BROTHER, for pity's sake." 
 
I learned two more things in that simple interchange. I learned that Claire could make major social mistakes. She had forgotten that the girls would naturally assume she had an aversion to seeing her brother not only naked, but engaging in sex play with her friends. 
 
And, I learned that they called each other by the nicknames I had given them ... that they purported to hate. At least one of them did, and the ease with which she'd used that name suggested it wasn't uncommon. 
 
I spoke up. "She's seen me naked all her life." I said. I turned to Claire and addressed her as if I were giving her information she couldn't possibly know already. "We sometimes skinny dip down at the creek." 
 
Claire turned beet red as she realized what had happened. Belatedly she tried to ride my coat tails. "That's right. I've seen him without clothes lots of times." 
 
That took care of the skinny dipping issue, but not what else was supposed to go on. 
 
Donna's pragmatic nature just flowed out of her. "Well, wouldn't it seem pretty ... icky to you to see him ... you know ... do things to us?" 
 
That was when I learned that Robby expected me to "do" something with her while we were swimming. This standing there, forgotten, was paying off handsomely. 
 
"I never said he could do anything to me!" yipped Roberta. 
 
So much for getting decent information by eavesdropping. 
 
Claire was fast on her feet, I'll give her that. "Well, I saw what he did to Marge. You know, when she showed us? And that wasn't so horrible," she said. "And I've heard all about it from each one too. Besides, it was my idea in the first place." 
 
Donna still looked somewhat shocked. "OK, but you have to promise not to butt in. Bobby and I already know what we like, and I don't want anyone to mess that up." 
 
My, my. Donna was getting downright assertive. 
 
Knobby Robby said "Yeah, me too." which didn't make any sense at all. Hadn't she just said she didn't want me doing anything to her anyway? I stared at her and she noticed. "What are YOU looking at?" she stuck out her chin. 
 
I called on suave and debonair. "I'm looking at a beautiful young woman, in the blush of health and vitality." I'd heard that on a commercial somewhere and had been waiting for a chance to use that line. 
 
Robby scowled. "You are just so full of it. I don't think I'll let you touch me after all." 
 
For some reason I'll never understand, I wanted to kiss Knobby Robby right then. I wanted to kiss her on the lips and just melt her into a puddle. I stepped toward her. There must have been something in my eyes, because Robby's eyes got real big and she put her hands up in front of her and stepped back. 
 
"Don't you touch me you ... you ... you TURD!" 
 
That was the Robby I knew and loved. I not only touched her, I tackled her, knocking her backwards onto a big overstuffed chair that was nearby. My fingers went to her sides and I tickled her as she squirmed and squealed and then, to my immense satisfaction, laughed. Her knee started kicking at me, trying to find my balls. That wasn't unusual. Whenever Robby wrestled, she used every dirty trick in the book. 
 
So I used one tool I grabbed her flat little breasts and gave them a squeeze. 
 
You'd have thought I used a cattle prod on her. She went rigid and her face strained into a mask of half confusion, half surprise and half over-joyedness, if there is such a word. While she was frozen I kissed her on the lips. It wasn't a good kiss. It wasn't even a reciprocal kiss. But I got my lips on at least one of hers, enough that she knew it was supposed to BE a kiss. 
 
Then I stood up and stepped back. "How's THAT for being full of it?" 
 
I was all proud of myself in a caveman kind of way. Until Donna whacked me in the back of the head with her sneaker, which she'd taken off when I first attacked Robby. She hit me hard too. 
 
"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" she yelled at me. Claire was moving toward me too, and I was too busy ducking another swing of Donna's to be able to tell whether or not she actually posed a threat. I rolled down to the floor, trying to get away and ran into Robby's foot. I realized she was standing over me, one foot on either side of me. She had stood up when I went to the floor and stepped over me. 
 
"STOP!" she yelled. 
 
Everybody stopped. It was awfully quiet. 
 
"He wasn't hurting me." said Robby. Wonder of wonders ... she was actually coming to my rescue! 
 
"Well it looked like it to me." said Donna. 
 
"Bobby! You're such an ass hole!" That was Claire. She almost never used language that bad. 
 
"I SAID he wasn't hurting me." said Roberta Simms, who had suddenly gotten pretty assertive herself somehow. "This is between me and Bobby. You two butt OUT!" she commanded. 
 
And damned if they didn't simmer down. Roberta stepped over me and turned around and stepped over me again, so she could bend over and look at me. She was still straddling me, or I should say straddling me again. She had on shorts, and, if you were Roberta, that meant they were loose. I happened to glance up the leg of her shorts. 
 
"What are YOU looking at?" she growled. She could deliver that line perfectly. 
 
"You." I said. 
 
Then she sat down on my stomach. She sat down hard enough to make me go "Oooff". 
 
She leaned down until her face was right in front of mine, her hands on my shoulders. "I might let you touch me after all," she said softly. 
 
How about that? Knobby Robby reacted well to the caveman treatment! I never would have believed it. Then she stood up and stepped back over me, leaving me lying on the floor. 
 
"So, are we going swimming or not?" she asked Donna and Claire. Both of them were staring at her like she had two heads or something. 
 
Donna jerked her head. "Yes," she said. 
 
Robby looked at Claire. "How about you? You up for seeing your brother do terrible things to innocent girls?" 
 
Claire took a breath. "I might watch just a little of it. When I'm not swimming." She tried to sound bored, but her cheeks were pink and everybody knew it. 
 
Twenty minutes later I was at old Mr. Hawkins' hay field again, this time with THREE girls. I knew what to expect from one of them. As far as the other two, I had no idea. 
 
It was surprisingly routine in an astonishing way. When we got there we all rolled out our towels, Donna putting hers right beside mine. Then she started stripping down to change into her swimming suit like she was in a cabana somewhere and everybody else couldn't see her get naked. I guess she had decided that, if the other two weren't making any objections, she was just going to act like they weren't there. 
 
Robby and Claire stood there uncertainly and something perverse made me act like Donna. I pulled off my shirt and then undid my shorts and let them drop. I kicked off my Keds, which I had worn without socks, and, after dropping my shirt on the towel, bent over to push my underwear down. 
 
I was about half hard, from seeing Miss September's skin beginning to appear, and it was kind of exciting, for some odd reason, to be getting naked in front of Robby too. I discounted Claire, because there was no way she was going to do anything with me with the other two girls there. 
 
Robby was staring, her eyes riveted to my cock, but I couldn't tell whether she was repelled or attracted to what she saw. Her mouth was open, but it could have been either shock or interest that caused that. 
 
Donna put her suit on, so I did too, even though I'd have rathered that we skinny dipped. But it was possible for other people to show up at the hay field, though no one ever had since Donna and I had been going there. Then Donna grabbed my hand and pulled me to the water. 
 
It was high summer now, and hot, and the water felt good. I didn't even mind the mud between my toes. Donna tried to climb up on me and dunk me and she was giggling and laughing, but I wrestled her into a kiss instead of playing around. It was a nice kiss and soon she was pressing her body up against mine and rubbing her pussy up against the lump in my swimming suit. She had just started doing that lately, and I loved it because that suggested that she wasn't afraid of me any more. Her statement that her virginity was mine whenever I wanted it rang hollow after I made her compare the thickness of my finger, which HAD been in her pussy, to my cock, which had not. I could tell in little flinches and a certain stiffness in her body whenever my groin touched hers. But that had faded and now she liked being in full contact with me.  Maybe she had been working on stretching herself like we'd talked about.
 
This is hard to explain, but, once I'd decided NOT to pick Donna's cherry, it made our sexual play MORE fun and LESS nervous, at least from my point of view. It was kind of like we weren't playing baseball any more, so I didn't have to make it to home plate. Instead, we were just hitting pop flies to each other, or playing catch and we could just enjoy what was happening without there being any winners or losers. Donna, of course, didn't know I'd decided it would be too traumatic for her if I stuffed my rock hard cock up in her tight little pussy and spurted her full of baby makers. So her attitude about it was different. She occasionally asked me why I hadn't "made her a woman" yet.
 
She did it now. 
 
"Bobby," she said between kisses. "When are you going to let me feel what it's like to have a penis inside me? 
 
"Are you in a hurry or something?" I asked. 
 
"No, but I just know it will feel really nice." 
 
Girls loved to lie to themselves about sex. They always believed that bells would ring and the sun would shine and they'd float off to some wonderful place the first time they let a man into them.
 
What I remembered about each of the girls whose virginity I'd destroyed was that "OWWWW" that inevitably came tearing our of their mouths. True, they got over it, but Donna was so much tighter than any of the others that I was really worried about that. 
 
"Be patient." I said. "It's going to hurt the first time. Trust me on that. Didn't the other girls tell you about the pain?" 
 
"Well, it was mentioned, but not like it was any big deal," she said, kissing me again. 
 
That's another thing that happens to women. They somehow forget about the pain. When I grew up I learned that there are chemicals released in the brain that actually make women forget the actual pain of childbirth after it's all over. That's why women have children again. If they could remember what I've witnessed on several occasions, they wouldn't let a man near them again for all the tea in China. 
 
I kissed her back. "Donna, the last thing I want you to remember about me is that you hated the first time you had real sex." 
 
"You're sweet," she said. "I want you to lick my pussy now." 
 
"Now?" I asked. "In front of Robby and Claire?" 
 
"Roberta asked to watch," she said. "Claire invited herself, so she'll just have to deal with it." 
 
Robby chose that moment to wade up next to us. I hadn't watched as she put on her swimming suit, but only because I had been kissing Donna and that took all my attention. 
 
"What are you guys doing?" asked Robby. 
 
"I'm getting ready to get my pussy licked." said Donna in the same tone of voice she might have used to say "I'm getting ready to buy that cute little frock over there." 
 
I turned to Robby. "Are you sure you want to watch this?" 
 
She stuck out her jaw again and clouded up. I remembered what Donna had said about nobody EVER asking Robby out on a date. I cut her off before she could say something that would spoil the mood. "OK, OK, but if you watch I'm going to want to do it to you too.  You turn me on Robby." 
 
Her reaction ... and Donna's was satisfying. Robby blushed and her mouth opened again, but I could see in her eyes that she wasn't horrified or offended or anything like that. She was actually pleased. Donna slapped me without any real malice and said "You are so crude Bobby Watkins." 
 
I said "What? She's getting ready to watch two people get naked and have some fun and I'm the one who's suddenly crude?" 
 
Claire waded up about then. "Who's being crude? As if I didn't know?" 
 
I turned to her and said "I'm getting ready to lick Donna's pussy. I told Robby I might want to lick hers too. How about you? I'm having a three-for-the-price-of-one sale today." 
 
That ruined the sexual mood, because I was suddenly being splashed by three girls who shrieked about what a pervert I was, and how terrible I was and all that. I ducked under the water and started groping for swim suit bottoms, trying to pull them down. I got my hands on a lot of flesh, and almost got a knee in my face. I never got any bottoms pulled down much, but it caused a stampede and I was able to surface and breathe again. I started chasing girls around in the water, grabbing for breasts and growling and stuff. I even chased Claire, who tried even harder than the others to get away from me. 
 
Robby tried to stay and fight at one point but I put my arms around her and squeezed hers against her body. She couldn't do anything except look at me wide eyed as I squeezed her buttocks and pulled her lower body against mine.
  
"You're playing with the big boys now." I said to her face, only a couple of inches from mine. "I told you, you turn me on and I meant it.  I'm going to kiss you again." I warned her. 
 
And damned if she didn't let me! 
 
I gave her a thirty second smooch and, though she kept her lips tightly closed, she pushed her face back at me. I loosened my grip during that kiss, but all she did was bring her hands to my waist and hold on. 
 
When it was over she had a look in her eye I hadn't seen in there before. 
 
"That wasn't so bad I suppose," she said. 
 
Then her hand slipped down between my legs and she grabbed a handful of my manhood and she squeezed. "But don't try to take my suit off again." She squeezed a little harder and then put her leg behind mine and pushed with both her hands on my chest, knocking me backward in the water. she was laughing as I let myself go under. 
 
I stood back up and started wading toward shore. Donna and Claire had their heads together, like they were planning something, or had been watching me kiss Robby and were talking about it. I went up on the grass and then over to my towel, where I lay down in the hot sun. 
 
"I'm all lonely over here!" I yelled out to nobody in particular. 
 
Donna and Claire came out of the water together. Robby lingered, playing with the water, making a fist and closing it to make the water squirt upward into the air. I think she was a little nervous. 
 
Claire laid down on her towel on her back, sun tanning, and Donna laid down on top of me for some long, hot kisses. I rubbed her still-wet back and slid my hands into her bottoms, playing with her butt cheeks. We just let things progress more or less naturally. I undid her top at one point and started getting her nipples to pop out. I saw Robby sit down on her towel out of the corner of my eye, but didn't look at her. Donna started making appreciative sounds. She had learned that, once her nipples stuck out, she could squeeze just below one when I switched to another and it would stay out. This time when I switched and she did that, I grasped the first nipple between my thumb and fingers and pulled on it gently.
  
"Oooo not so hard." she murmured. "It's sensitive." 
 
So I switched to just holding it firmly enough to keep it out. But then I wanted to feel her pussy, so eventually I let go of the nipple and slid my hand down to her bottoms again. I heard a gasp from Robby as I slid my hand into the front of Donna's suit and her legs popped wide open, giving me room to play. She was wet, and it was slippery wet, not water wet. I wormed my middle finger into her. That was something I'd been doing a lot, sort of half-heartedly trying to stretch her out a little. She was still tight, but my finger went into her pretty easily now, and she loved it when I hooked that finger and pulled up, mashing her clitty. Her hips came up off the ground and she moaned into my mouth. 
 
I added another finger to stretch her some more and started sawing those fingers in and out of her rapidly, trying to bring her off and she got more violent in her gyrations. Then her head went up, stretching her neck, and mouth pulled into a grimace and I knew it was about to happen. Sure enough she started making coyote sounds that got louder and louder until she was wailing. 
 
I felt hands beating on my naked back. Robby screamed "STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING HER!" 
 
I started to pull my hand out of Donna's swim suit and one of her hands slapped on top to hold me there. Her legs came together too. 
 
"NO!" she gasped. Her head turned toward Robby and she said "He's not hurting me Robby. It feels WONDERFUL!" 
 
"Oh" said Robby, settling back onto her towel.
  
For some reason we all looked over at Claire, who was up on her side, supporting herself with one elbow, watching. As soon as she saw us looking at her though, she rolled back onto her back. Like she could make it look like she hadn't been watching. "I knew that," she said to the sky. 
 
"Oh really?" asked Robby. "It sounded like he was killing her to me. So how did YOU know it was OK?" 
 
Claire waved one hand. "I've made those sounds myself, lots of times." 
 
"OH REALLY?" said Robby, her voice getting louder. "Well maybe you can explain that to me. You said you got your cherry popped. OK, so WHEN WERE ALL THESE OTHER TIMES YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?!" she shouted. 
 
Oh boy. Claire had really stepped in it this time. She was going to have to learn to think before she rattled off such interesting information. 
 
She waved her hand again in the air, somewhat vaguely. "Oh ... you know ... when I masturbate." 
 
I could tell she was rattled. She had just admitted to masturbating casually, something girls just didn't do back then. I guess it was all she could come up with on the spur of the moment. 
 
"Don't STOP." said Donna suddenly, dragging out the last word in a complaining tone of voice. I realized my hand was lying between her legs limply. 
 
"How 'bout I use something else?" I asked, licking her lips. 
 
"Ohhhh yessss, I'm ready." she whined. I rolled away from her and she started shimmying out of her bottoms. 
 
I spared a glance at Robby and her mouth was open again. She was leaning forward and she looked pinker than the sun should have been able to account for. I grinned at her and crawled between Donna's legs. She drew her knees up toward her chest, lifting her feet off the ground and let them fall apart, baring her pussy completely. I leaned in and gave her pussy a long lick from bottom to top.
 
"Ohhhh yes Bobby, I just LOVE that." she cooed. 
 
I didn't have to press my face so hard into her sex to get her lips pried open now, and then I lapped and tickled her clit with my tongue. I slid two fingers into her pussy and started moving them in and out of her and she started to wind up. She'd have made a pretty good air raid siren and, once again, I was glad we were out where nobody could hear us, or at least if they did they'd just assume it was some kids playing some game. Donna slammed her heels into the ground and shoved her pussy up into my face as she came. She pushed so hard that only her heels and the back of her neck were touching the towel. I cupped her buttocks and just mooshed my face all around in her pussy. I was having a great time and so was she.
  
When Donna finally went limp I rose to my knees, sitting back on my calves. I looked over at Robby who was breathing almost as hard as Donna was. She was stock still, like she had been frozen, but as I looked at her I saw her blink. I looked past her at Claire, she was on her side again, her hand inside her own swimsuit bottoms. 
 
Donna rolled her head and saw the same thing. "CLAIRE!" she gasped. 
 
Claire was past caring. She must have been close, because she huffed "I don't care." and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs. Her hand went into overdrive and her hips bucked as she came. I saw Robby turn and look at Claire, and then she turned back to look at me. 
 
"You want to go back in?" I asked her. We both knew I meant the water. She nodded uncertainly and I stood up. The front of my suit was tented out where my erection pushed the wet fabric away from my body, but I didn't do anything about it. It was right in front of Robby's face as I held out my hand to pull her up. 
 
Like she was in a trance Robby took my hand and I pulled. She unfolded and stood up, swaying a little. I kept her hand in mine and pulled her toward the water. She didn't pull away from me at all and I led her out until the water was at her chest. 
 
"You OK?" I asked. 
 
Her head turned and she looked at me. She still didn't say anything. Her breathing had slowed a little. I splashed water up onto my face, rubbing Donna's slippery juice off. 
 
Robby finally said something. "Would you do that to me?" she asked.
 
"Now?" I asked back. 
 
"No, I mean would you actually DO that ... with me ... if I wanted you to?" She clarified her question. 
 
"Absolutely." I said. "I'd love it.  But only if you wanted me to." I was still holding her hand. "DO you want me to?" I asked. 
 
"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know ..." she repeated. "That was very strange, Bobby." She looked up on the grass where Donna was lying spread eagled, still naked, just soaking up the sun. Claire still had her hand in her bottoms, but it wasn't moving very much. 
 
I just looked at Robby for a while, waiting for her to say something else. Finally I asked: "If I asked you to kiss me ... you know a real kiss ... would you do it?" 
 
Her head went up a little as she looked in my eyes. "Yes." 
 
"Would you kiss me please?" I asked. 
 
Time slowed as Knobby Robby's angular face came toward mine, her eyes drifting closed, and her lips pursing to meet mine.
 
She didn't put her arms around me. In fact, it seemed like she didn't know what to do with her hands. But she lifted her face to mine and I touched my lips to hers. Without our arms around each other, and in the water, it was hard to press with any force, so I opted for loose lips that I knew would feel spongy to hers. She was tight lipped at first, but as the kiss went on her lips finally relaxed a little.
 
 I pulled back. 
 
She looked at me again. "That was nice Bobby," she said. 
 
"You feel like making out a little?" I asked. 
 
"I don't know how," she said. 
 
"I'll teach you if you want." I responded. 
 
"OK," she said simply.
  
I had to pull her out of the water just like I had led her into it. She wasn't the wired up and active Knobby Robby I knew so well. I knew she must be either thinking furiously, or that her senses were overwhelmed with her feelings. For that reason I thought it would be a good idea to just go slow and make sure Robby had a nice time.

Chapter Eight 

It occurred to me when we got to the towels that I had a little problem. I knew instinctively that Robby would be uncomfortable getting naked with me. I suddenly thought that maybe if we were naked in the water, it might be easier for her, and right about then Donna got up from her towel, heading for the creek. She acted like we weren't there. 

I turned and faced Robby. "You want to skinny dip?" I asked her. 

"I thought you were going to teach me to make out," she said, a little complaint in her voice. 

"We can do that while we are skinny dipping." I explained. 

"Oh ... OK," she said. 

She stood there, not moving. 

"We have to take our suits off to skinny dip" I said. Like I told you before, I was a master of pointing out the obvious. 

I bent over and took my trunks off, exposing my penis to Robby for the second time in her life. I stood back up and she was still standing there, frozen. 

"You want me to help you?" I asked ... helpfully. 

Robby licked her lips. Now she stared right at me. Her mouth opened and closed. 

It was time for my routine "I won't hurt you" speech, which had put so many girls at ease before this. I was pretty accomplished at it by now. 

"Look Robby," I said. "You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not going to hurt you." I got ready to tell her all about how she would be in control, and that I'd only do what she wanted me to do and all that stuff. But I never got the chance. 

"Of COURSE you're not going to hurt me!" she broke in. "If you do I'll break your arm," she said heatedly. The steel was back in her eye. This was the Robby I knew. 

And, just like that, she whipped off her suit, as if we skinny dipped every day and I'd seen her naked a thousand times. 

She looked at me and said "So?" I think she was waiting for me to laugh at her. And then that perfect line: "What are YOU looking at?" 

Robby was different from the other girls for more reasons than that she was athletic and a tomboy. She wasn't beautiful in the usual sense. Her face was angular and long. It had the same thin appearance that the rest of her body had, with little flesh to cover her knobby knees and elbows. But as I looked at her body I could see where her feminine side was trying to grow in. Her hips had some swell to them that I'd never noticed before and her breasts looked smaller than they actually were because she was broad shouldered and wide in the chest too. As she stood there, letting me look and waiting for me to call her flat-chested or be as cruel as other boys were to her, I realized that, in a few years, she was going to be highly sought after by the opposite sex. 

I thought she was cute. But what do you say to your pal of many years when you see her sexually for the first time? I mean this was a buddy who you climbed trees with, and ran races against, and stared at the clouds, picking out elephants and volcanoes and Superman in their shapes. 

What came out of my mouth was: "If I didn't already have a boner you'd give me one Robby." 

I know, I know, it wasn't poetic or romantic or any of that stuff. But Robby and I had never used romantic speech around each other. And the look on her face as it bloomed into a tentative smile made my heart soar. Of all the girls, even including Claire, Robby was the one I wanted to please the most. I didn't stop to try to figure out why. Maybe she just deserved it more or something. And I knew it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done to get naked in front of me. 

"You're so full of shit," she said. Then she put her hands on her hips and suddenly she WAS sexy! 

"No I'm not. You have a lot of sexy attributes" I said. 

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she said. 

I saw Claire lean towards us, like she was interested in what I was going to say. Donna was in the creek, wading around. 

"Well, OK," I started. "Your nipples look soft and big, like they'd fit in my mouth just perfect." 

What I was talking about was that she had cone shaped breasts with puffy nipples. Actually her areolas and nipples kind of meshed together, like the nipple hadn't fully formed yet or something. It gave the effect that her areolas WERE her nipples, and they were bigger around than a quarter. 

"And, your hair is so light that I can see your pussy lips. That's sexy." I claimed. "And the way you're standing right now, with your hands on your hips and one leg kind of out to the side. It cocks your hips a little bit and makes them look round, like they'd make a good place to put my hands when I kiss you." I was on a roll now. 

She was still standing there listening, and the fact she hadn't thrown anything at me suggested she wasn't at all unhappy so far. 

"And your stomach is so flat." I finished. 

"What does a flat stomach have to do with looking sexy?" she asked. 

"It makes me want to see what it would look like if you were pregnant." I said. 

I said that without even thinking about it. In fact I was astonished that I'd said that at all. I'd never even thought about why I thought flat stomachs were sexy. I had one other thing to say, and, since I had blurted out so much, I let that go too. 

"And you're ... Robby. I like Robby, and that makes her sexy." I could feel my hardon getting soft. I wasn't feeling so sexy myself. 

"It makes me feel funny inside when you say that," she said. 

I felt stupid standing there, talking to a naked girl. I sat down on my towel and motioned for her to take Donna's, which was now empty. She sat too. 

"I know some ways to make you feel even funnier." I offered. 

"I masturbate," she said. 

I think I blinked from the surprise. I didn't know why she said that. It was a strange thing to just pop up in conversation. But then again, I'd just told her how wonderful I thought her nipples and pussy lips were, so maybe it wasn't such a stretch after all. 

"Me too." I said. I didn't know what else to say. It was really different talking to Robby about sex. We'd talked about all kinds of other things, some quite serious, but never sex. 

"I mean I don't have my maidenhead." she added. I thought it was kind of cool that she used such a formal name for her virginity. Robby wasn't usually very formal. 

I suddenly realized that Robby was telling me she was a sexual being. It was a leap so far from what I was used to that I almost didn't recognize the importance of what she'd just said. When I did I lay down on my side. I think my devious mind was trying to get her prone, and me prone, so we could be prone and naked at the same time. Baby steps. You know? 

"I can't believe I didn't figure that out." I said. "How long have you been doing it?" 

"Since I was ten," she said simply. 

"Wow." I said. I was impressed. I thought I knew her so well, and it turned out I didn't. So I confided something secret about me. "I didn't start doing it until I was almost thirteen." 

"Boys are slow," she said, like it was a simple fact that everyone knows, but which needs to be pointed out occasionally. 

I decided not to argue with her about it. She hadn't taken the hint and gone prone either. I tried plan B. 

"So do you want to go swimming?" I reminded her of why she'd taken her suit off. 

"No," she said. 

"But I thought ..." I started to point out that skinny dipping was what she'd agreed to do, but she cut me off. 

"Now that I'm naked it's not so bad. I think I just needed an excuse to get naked," she said. 

"So ... what do you want to do?" I asked. I was still lying on the towel, on my side, my head propped up. 

"I think I want to kiss you," she said. 

"You THINK?" I asked. 

"This is all very strange Bobby. I've never talked to a boy who wanted to make me pregnant." 

"Hold on now Robby. I never said I WANTED to make you pregnant. I said I wondered what you'd LOOK LIKE pregnant." I realized that sounded kind of cold. I tried to warm it up a little. "I mean I think you'd look really sexy pregnant." 

"Do you want to kiss me or not?" she asked. Her voice sounded so much like the Robby I knew, and who asked me questions that ended in 'or not?' fairly often, that the whole scene just seemed ludicrous somehow. 

But I DID want to kiss her, so I didn't laugh. 

"Yes ... I do." I said. 

Robby got up on all fours and crawled over beside me. She moved her head over mine as I rolled to my back. Then she let herself down until her lips touched mine. 

Our kiss in the water had been mostly me, kissing her. Now I just lay there and let her kiss me. It was plain from the beginning that she wasn't experienced, but WAS motivated. She'd seen people French kissing, or heard about it. You didn't see that in movies back then. She started tentatively, but then opened her mouth just enough to flick her tongue out against my teeth. I let my tongue touch hers, tip to tip. She pressed harder against me immediately and her mouth opened up wider and in no time flat Knobby Robby seemed intent on shoving her tongue clear down my throat. 

What Roberta lacked in experience she more than made up for in enthusiasm. Once we had crossed the kissing barrier she slowly edged over me until her chest was on my chest, her cone shaped amazingly soft breasts pressing hotly against me. I'd been lying in the sun, but her breasts felt hotter than even that. And she rubbed them across my chest, one hand moving across my body so she could support herself as she did that. It was tender and soft and my cock was suddenly iron hard again. 

I finally moved my hands to her face and used them to teach her how to accept those little nipping kisses I had learned to love so much. Then I let her press her lips back to mine hard and I felt her right leg cross over my body. So slowly it seemed to take forever, she let herself down to lie on top of me, her pussy pressed against my cock, which was now sandwiched between us. 

At first she didn't move her lower body. She just lay there, kissing me over and over. But as she tried to rub her little titties against me, she inevitably moved her pussy on my cock. She pushed up and looked down between us. I raised my head to see too, and saw that her pussy lips were straddling my cock, which put her clit right on my bone. 

She gave a little choking whine and let her body slide her pussy along my cock. Her sudden indrawn breath electrified me. 

Donna suddenly laid down on the towel beside me. She lay on her side, facing us. Robby looked over at her and Donna was smiling. 

"I told you it was nice," she said. 

"Shut up." said Robby. 

"You should let him suck your pussy." recommended Donna. 

"Shut up." said Robby, letting her clit glide back down my cock. 

"And your nipples too." added Donna. "You should let him suck them." 

"Donna would you please shut up?" whined Robby. 

Roberta watched as her pussy rubbed along my cock for a few seconds more and then she lifted her head, wanting another kiss. I felt brave enough ... and secure enough too, I suppose, to put my hands on her skinny naked buns and help her rub my cock. The "Mmmmm" I got pretty well told me I was still secure. 

Robby started to breathe harder and move more jerkily and she put her mouth an inch from mine. 

"Bobby?" she said, her voice high. "I think I'm going to have an orgasm." 

Again, her insistence to use more formal language struck me. She seemed at once so proper and yet the situation was SO bizarre, based on our previous relationship. 

"I'm glad Robby." I said back to her. I didn't know what else to say to the girl getting herself off on my prick. 

Robby stared into my eyes with an intense look that was almost scary. Then her eyes closed halfway, like THEY wanted to be closed, but SHE wanted them open so she could see mine. 

"Ohhhhhhhhh" she said, her voice low now. "Ohhhhhh Bobby". It was such a sexy sound that I couldn't believe it was coming out of Knobby Robby's mouth. 

Watching her have that orgasm was one of the most fun and satisfying things that had ever happened to me to that point. As I think back on it now it's still one of my favorite memories. It was like she was a little girl one second and grew up the next second. She took in deep lungfuls of air, but it was actually a pretty quiet event, all things considered. Maybe she was concentrating a hundred percent on what she was feeling, I don't know, but she wasn't loud or violent like some of the others. 

Finally she stopped moving and leaned down for another kiss. It was ... hungry. I don't know how else to describe it. And, while she was kissing me, her hand snaked down between us and fisted my cock. She raised her hips up off of me and I felt her move until the tip of my cock got hot and felt pressure. I knew it was in her pussy mouth, but I didn't think she'd push it in. 

I was wrong. Knobby Robby, my buddy ... my pal ... my suddenly grown up young woman, gave a grunt as, without any warning at all, she impaled her skinny body on my prick. 

She gave a groan as it slid in her and I was astonished at how easily that happened. As small as she was, she took my cock like it belonged there. Oh, she was tight. No doubt about that. But, maybe because of her athleticism, or because she had masturbated for years, she swallowed me up with only that groan. Not only that, she sat UP when she got it in as far as it would go. 

Since my whole cock felt all warm and happy, I knew that meant I was all the way in her. 

Donna said "ROBBY! WHAT ARE YOU ..." 

Robby turned her head and said "Donna I TOLD you to SHUT UP!" Then, as if we'd been doing this for years, she started rising and falling on my bone. 

Gone in a flash was her smooth, almost patient and sweet sliding. Her hands came to my chest and she used them to lean forward on while her thighs flexed, lifting her up. Then she slammed down hard though to elicit a grunt from me. She did that again and again until she had set up a rhythm that had her falling every time the second hand on the watch in my shoe ticked to another dot on the dial. Her head hung, like she was watching her pussy sliding up and then falling heavily down on my cock and I felt the tip of my cock push hard into something inside her. 

Thank my lucky stars she only lasted about two minutes before she started saying "Fuck" every time she fell down, impaling herself again. After her correctness, hearing Roberta say that word was like Rod Serling had sucked us into the Twilight Zone. She added an "Oh" in front of the fuck as she sped up and suddenly she was MORE violent than any of the others, pounding me like I had pounded Large Marge. Suddenly she was the cave woman, taking her man. 

All I could do was hang on for the wildest ride of my life as she obviously neared another orgasm. 

Then it was there, and she slammed down and stayed down, rotating her pussy, and my cock, in circles as she leaned forward. 

Just like that I shot Knobby Robby full of steaming hot spunk. She was pressed against me so hard there was no way any of that spunk would ever get out of her. I thrust my hips up and groaned as my cock rat-a-tat-tatted her full of my creamy spend. 

Robby leaned down again, like she wanted another kiss. Instead she said "I love you Bobby." 

THEN she kissed me. 

"Ohhhh" moaned Donna beside us. I rolled my head over and she was masturbating furiously. Claire was right behind her, her whole swim suit off now, and her hand between her legs as she stood/squatted, the three fingers covering her clit and pussy lips moving back and forth so fast they were a blur. 

"That was sooooo cool." moaned my sister, who was supposed to be grossed out by seeing her brother fuck one of her best friends. 

It was obvious to all present that she wasn't grossed out at all. 

I turned my face back up to Robby, who was still staring at me like she was afraid I was going to melt in the hot sun. I thought she was going to kiss me again, and again I was wrong. 

"You're the one who did it to Claire ... aren't you." she whispered. 

I couldn't lie to the woman who'd just given me the best fuck of my short life. I blinked twice and nodded once. 

"I knew it." said Robby, and kissed me again. My cock was still half hard, and she was sitting on it so it couldn't go anywhere. She rocked gently, just rubbing and kissing until finally she lay down on my chest. 

If she never got off I'd be a happy man. 

She was lying on top of me, relaxed, drooping down all over me. She wasn't heavy at all, and her state of relaxation was, strangely, one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to me up to that point. Her face was in my neck and I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin. I rolled my head to look at Donna, who was staring at us, her mouth open and her eyes wild. 

"You guys did it!" she said in a hushed voice. 

Robby didn't respond at all. I smiled and nodded. "Yeah." 

Just about then my shrinking cock oozed out of Robby's pussy. There was a spreading pool of heat on my groin as my semen drained out of her. Robby made an unhappy sound. 

She raised her head. "It got all soft." she complained. 

"It does that when it's been very very happy." I complimented her. 

"I want to do that every day," she said, kissing my nose. 

"If you do you'll get all knocked up." I said back to her. 

"I don't care." said my buddy. "You said I'd look sexy pregnant." 

"Robby," I said. "You can't get knocked up. You're only fifteen. That would be a terrible mistake." 

"What if I already am?" she said, with an obvious lack of concern. 

"Then you have to marry me and we'll have to drop out of school, and I'll have to go to work at some shitty place, making a shitty wage, and we'll be poor and starve and stuff." I said. I mean it was true, wasn't it? Isn't that what happened to kids who 'started a family' too soon? 

"You'd marry me if I was pregnant?" There was a dampness to Robby's eyes that signaled a heap of emotion behind them. 

"I guess I could live that way." I said. I didn't add "if I have to." Things were going too nicely to screw them up right this instant. "But you wouldn't like it. It would be too hard." 

"Yeah" she sighed. "But it's nice to know. I think I've been in love with you since third grade." 

Wow! Talk about your bombshells. Little Knobby Robby? In love with ME?! For fricking YEARS?! It had to be the hormones racing through her bloodstream. 

"Me too." sighed Donna. Robby and I looked over at her. We'd been so immersed in ourselves that we'd sort of forgotten she was there. 

"With ME?" I managed to make it into a gasp. It was nice to hear, but she was full of hormones too, and would eventually need a chance to recant her confession of love. Nobody our age really knew anything about love. We were like puppies, not yet grown, and stupid about the ways of the world. Wasn't that why they called it "Puppy Love"? 

Claire was still on her hands and knees behind Donna, still looking over Donna at the two of us. We couldn't see her pussy, but her breasts hung down beautifully. 

"They've ALL been in love with you since third grade you idiot. Why do you think they hung around our house so much?" 

"They're the posse." I said dumbly. "They're YOUR posse." 

"Yeah, that's how it ended up, but they started hanging around because of you. Boys are so stupid." she grumped. 

"They can't ALL be in love with me." I said. That was true, wasn't it? Wasn't there some kind of girl rule that said only one or two girls could be in love with a guy at the same time? And then they had to fight about it to see who got him. I was sure there was a rule. 

"Why not?" asked Donna. "You don't seriously think we'd let you get in our panties if we didn't like you ... do you?" 

There was that "like" word again. It obviously meant something different to a girl than it did to guys. I liked all my friends. I'd never consider letting them suck my dick, though. I didn't like them THAT much. Maybe that was it. For a guy, liking comes in degrees. For a girl, "like" meant something serious and there were other words for relationships that WEREN'T serious." 

I tried a hunch. "What about Joey Trammel?" I asked Donna. "I thought you liked him." 

She got a shocked look on her face. "He's OK, I guess, but I don't LIKE him!" 

Yup, there were definite differences in language going on here. Who understands the way girls think? 

"Oh" I said, like I understood it. 

Then I had a rush of nervousness. What had I gotten myself into here? Did I have five girls all thinking that, because I had slid my prick into them ... OK, four girls then ... that they all wanted to marry me? 

"Um ..." I ventured. "So ... what now?" 

"What do you mean?" asked Donna. 

"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked. It sounded like a simple question, but it was actually very complicated. 

For Claire it WAS simple. She sat down on the grass and pronounced her Sheriff's verdict. "Well, as soon as you and Donna do it, those who want to keep doing it can keep doing it, and those who don't want to don't have to any more." 

That didn't help. "Look," I said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm having the time of my life, but I don't want to get anybody pregnant, and I don't think anybody's ready to talk about getting married." 

"Who said anything about getting married?" asked Claire. 

I was astounded. "Robby did!" I said. "Just a minute ago. Wasn't that what we were all talking about?" 

"Oh that." said Claire dismissively. "We all have dreams, but we're not stupid. Who'd actually want to marry a dork like you anyway?" 

"I would." said Robby. She kissed my chin this time. 

Boy, was I confused. 

Claire waved her hand. "I know what you mean Roberta, but you don't really mean that." 

Robby sighed. "I know," she said. 

Now I was REALLY confused. 

Donna sat up. Her breasts and stomach were getting a little pink in the sun. "I don't know about marriage, but I really want to try ... it ... now." 

Claire got all excited. She knew that Donna and I hadn't gone "all the way" yet. She leaned forward. "He can get hard again really fast." Then she looked shocked. 

This was a mistake that the other two girls didn't miss. 

Donna said "How do you know that?", suspicion heavy in her voice. 

Robby pushed herself up with her arms. "I know how she knows that. It was Bobby who popped her cherry!" 

Donna didn't get it ... yet. "What? No way! How do you know that?" 

Robby said "Think about it Donna. How many times have we tried to figure out who it could have been and couldn't come up with a single name? Where has she gone that we didn't either know about, or found out about later?" 

I was bracing myself for her to say I had admitted it, but, bless her heart, she didn't. Instead she looked at me and said "Admit it Bobby, it was you, wasn't it!" It wasn't a question. 

I looked at Miss September, and past her to my sister, who was decidedly uncomfortable and obviously trying to figure out how to get out of this pickle. I didn't say anything. 

Donna looked thoughtful. "Marge has always been suspicious about that, but she just thought Claire was lying about losing her virginity." She looked over at Claire. "Claire?" 

Claire looked at the clouds, and then at the creek, and then found something very interesting about the grass she was sitting on. She was busted. 

Donna got it. "You let your BROTHER pop your cherry?" she gasped. 

"It wasn't like that." mumbled Claire finally. 

Donna looked back at me. "You FORCED your sister to have sex?!" she accused. 

"NO!" I said. This wasn't turning out well at all. "It was more of an accident." 

Robby started rubbing her spermy pussy lips around on my groin. She wasn't put off by the incest angle at all. That's probably because she thought of herself as almost my sister. But it was distracting. 

"How do you "accidentally" have sex with your sister?" asked Donna. She was beginning to look mad. 

Claire finally found some of that courage that made her the Sheriff in the first place. "Remember when he accidentally touched my ... pussy? In the car?" she asked. Donna nodded. 

"Well, I got ... excited. And I had to ... well ... rub myself. And it felt good and I loved him too, like you guys, and I sort of wanted to rub off again ... with him." 

Donna's mouth opened and then closed. 

Claire went on. "And so I asked him to masturbate with me, and I wanted to feel his hand again, and we kissed and he was sort of lying on top of me and .. it just happened." 

Donna's mouth was open again. "And you couldn't make him stop?" 

Claire got even redder. "I didn't WANT him to stop." Her head lifted. "And then, it was so nice I knew you guys would love it too, so that's why I told you I had lost my cherry ... so I could get you guys to find out how fun it is." 

Donna said, her voice amazed, "You're one twisted girl, Claire." 

"I know." said Claire miserably. 

"And he didn't force you?" asked Donna. 

"No" said Claire. "He even tried to stop, but I wouldn't let him." 

"And you only did it that once?" asked Donna. 

Claire looked at the clouds and the creek and the grass again. 

"CLAIRE!" gasped Donna. 

"It feels so good." whined Claire. 

"She's right." added Robby, still rubbing herself against my soft dick. 

Donna looked back at Robby. "And you don't have any problem with all this?" 

Robby smiled. "Nope. I loved it. I want to do it every single day." She made it obvious by rubbing herself on me with more ... vigor. 

"I don't know ..." mused Miss September. 

Robby had another round in her magazine. "Tell me you never thought about doing anything with Jeff." Jeff was Donna's older brother. He was nineteen and in the Marines. 

Donna's mouth opened and closed again, and she got a very thoughtful look in her eye. she looked back at Robby. "Well, maybe I THOUGHT about a few things ... once in a while ... but I didn't DO anything about it." 

"OK then." said Robby. "The only difference is that Jeff never happened to touch your pussy and get you all excited at a time when you COULD do anything about it." 

Donna blushed. "Well, yeah ... but ..." 

I finally decided it was time to say something. "Donna, you don't have to do anything anyway. If it bothers you that's OK. You have a right to be disgusted with me if you want to." 

She looked at me. "But I'm NOT disgusted with you. I just think it's strange, that's all. And now, after seeing you and Robby doing it, I WANT to do it, but you won't do it with me." She got all teary eyed "You'll do it with your SISTER, but NOT WITH ME!" 

And then she bawled. 

Robby was off me in a flash and she and Claire both were hugging Donna. Have you ever seen three naked fifteen year old girls hugging each other and crying and one of them has your sperm running out of her freshly deflowered pussy while another one WANTS to have your sperm running out of her freshly deflowered pussy? 

OK, probably not, but try to IMAGINE that. 

I got hard again. I didn't WANT to get hard again, but I did. I knew this was NOT the right time to get hard again ... but I did. 

When it quieted down a little Claire looked over at me, a frown on her face. "Is THAT why it's been taking so long? You won't DO IT with Donna?!" 

Her eyes went to my stiff-again prick and I wanted to cover it up. "It's not like that." I said, using her own words. "She's too tight. I'll hurt her. I might even TEAR her!" I threw that last one in, knowing that would shut them up. 

"Of COURSE it will hurt, you Dodo!" barked Claire. "It ALWAYS hurts the first time. Why do you think we wanted to do it with YOU?!" 

You know how, when you're watching a movie at the theater and the film slips on the sprocket and jerks around a little before either popping off the gears or going back to normal? That's what happened in my mind. I mean ... they wanted to do it with me the first time because it HURT the first time? What the hell did THAT mean? 

"What the hell does THAT mean?" I blurted out. My brain was still shimmying around in my skull. 

"It MEANS, you moron, that if it's going to HURT, you want to do it with somebody you really LIKE and that makes it all WORTH THE PAIN!" Claire ended up screaming. 

"Oh." I said. That wasn't something guys thought about all that much I guess. 

Now you'd have thought that the mood would have been all ruined, and that all three of them would be mad at me and disgusted and get dressed and walk off. But these were TEENAGED girls, you see, so logic doesn't enter into it. 

Claire stood up, naked. And angry. And really beautiful too. 

"NOW, YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND POP DONNA'S CHERRY THIS INSTANT!" she screamed at me. She actually stomped one naked foot. It made her breasts jiggle nicely. 

Then my brain rattled again as Robby KISSED Donna on the LIPS and said "It's going to be OK Donna. You're going to love this." And she lay Donna down on her towel and got her all arranged, like a sacrifice on a Mayan altar and stood up, my sperm running down the inside of her thigh and stood beside Claire. 

Rod Serling and his Outer Limits was back. This just couldn't be real. 

Donna, dear sweet Donna, turned her head and looked at me with tears in her eyes and said "Please Bobby?" 

Now maybe this sounds all exciting to you, but guys, let me tell you, this is no situation to find yourself in. Talk about your conflicting emotions. Here was a girl I'd wanted to fuck for a long time, asking me to do it. 

But I KNEW it would hurt her and hurt her a lot. She was just too tight. I looked down at my prick, hoping it was soft as butter on a July day, but Mr. Happy had a mind of his own and it sure wasn't in tune with my own mind. He was standing out proud and strong, despite having squirted only ten minutes earlier. I could hear him in my mind: "Heh heh, I'm ready brother, where is she? Let me at her! I wanna PLAY!" 

So, I crawled over to Donna and she smiled as she saw me coming and held out her arms to me and everything. I kissed her first, and told her we needed to make out a little first. She nodded and her kisses were ... intense. Always before kissing had just been fun, but now they were a prelude to something new and different and scary for both of us. I went down to her inverted nipples and sucked them out as she wiggled under me. Then I started kissing my way down to her pussy. I knew it needed to be nice and slippery if I wasn't going to just kill the poor girl. 

"Get on with it!" growled Claire. 

I lifted my head. "You just shut your mouth Claire." I said. I used my big brother voice on her. This was all HER fault and I was going to have to live with the consequences of it. 

I licked and sucked and prodded Miss September with two fingers until she was nice and slippery and then crawled back up to her face. 

"You're sure about this?" I whispered. 

She nodded again and reached down between us. She had rubbed herself with my cock head before, so she knew where to put it and this time, when it dipped in between hot pussy lips I pushed enough to lodge it tight. 

Donna winced. I wasn't even past her hymen and she winced. She must have seen the look in my eyes. 

"It doesn't really hurt" she said. "I'm just nervous." 

So I pushed. 

Nothing happened. I felt Mr. Happy bend slightly. Donna winced again and spread her legs farther apart. 

"Do it Bobby." she urged me. 

So I pushed ... harder. And suddenly I was partway inside her. It was like somebody took a pair of water pump pliers and clamped them on my cock. Only they were made of something hot and spongy, and not metal. 

This tortured sound came out of Donna's throat and I stopped. Her eyes were tightly closed, but when I didn't do anything else she opened them. Tears threatened to overflow any minute and then did as she raised her head to look down at the place that hurt so much. Her hands came up to my waist and her nails dug into my skin. 

"DO IT!" she screamed, and pulled. About the same time Claire slapped my ass with the flat of her hand just as hard as she could. 

Mr. Happy gave a strangled, choked off gurgle as he was forced deep inside Miss September and his little head kissed Donna's cervical mouth. 

My ear was deafened by Donna's agonized scream as her tissues were cruelly spread apart. She later told me that almost all the pain was right at her opening, where her pussy lips were so tightly stretched, and that the only reason she didn't try to push me off of her was the ... other feeling ... deeper inside of her ... where Mr. Happy was gasping for breath and turning blue. She said she was able to concentrate on that feeling and push aside the pain of her bleeding hymen and stretched pussy lips. Women are amazing creatures, I'll tell you that. 

Anyway, once I was in her she was perfectly happy to have me stay stock still while her abused pussy realized that the invader wasn't going away real soon, and that it needed to stretch and accommodate that bastard prick. 

I was holding myself up with stiff arms. I adjusted them and Donna yelled "DON'T MOVE!" So I lay there, skewering the poor girl and ... didn't move. 

At some point her hands loosed their grip on my sides. I expected blood to dribble down my sides, but I didn't feel anything. My ass cheek hurt like fire. Mr. Happy wasn't talking any more and I couldn't even tell if he was still actually stiff or not. I could feel pain where my foreskin had been stretched beyond normal as my cock penetrated her. 

All in all, it hurt us both, and I didn't think either one of us was going to have a good memory of this. 

I pulled out a little, just to ease the fire in my foreskin, expecting Donna to scream "DON'T MOVE" again. 

But instead she lifted her head again to look at where we were joined. 

"It's in me." she whined. 

What could I say. 

"Oh Bobby, it's really IN me!" Her voice was stronger. 

Pulling back had made the pain where the shaft started go away, and Mr. Happy had apparently been able to drag in a breath or something, because he suddenly sent a signal to my brain that there was something deeper inside Donna that he kind of wanted to go see. 

I pushed before I could stop myself, and the tip of my cock dug into what I know now was the mouth of her womb. 

"Oooooo" she whined. 

"Sorry" I choked out. "I couldn't help it." 

"It's not so bad now" she said, sounding amazed. "Do that again." 

I couldn't push any harder. I was all the way in her. So I pulled back maybe an inch or so and then pushed again.' 

"AHHHHHHHH" came a sound from Miss September's voice. 

"Go easy there." warned Claire from right beside us. 

"Shut up Claire." said Donna. I think she learned that from Robby. 

At Donna's urging I began to move a little more each time until I was dragging my prick almost all the way out of her and then sliding it back into a furnace of wet pussy. 

I learned later in life that some women have orgasms that are due primarily to vaginal friction, meaning the feel of a penis sliding along her vaginal walls. Other women have clitoral orgasms, and if their clit isn't stimulated they can't cum. They still like the feeling, but just can't cum. If you know a woman who likes it doggy style, but can't cum that way, she's probably a clitty woman and not whatever you call the other kind. 

Donna had had lots and lots of orgasm while I licked, sucked or rubbed her clit. But it turned out that what she REALLY liked was a nice stiff penis sliding in and out of her pussy. 

OK, one more thing before we get back to the good stuff. Have any of you seen that movie called "Porky's", where the female gym teacher has the nickname "Lassie"? 

Well, it hadn't been made yet, but I bet the author, or producer or whoever was responsible for that movie was hiding in the bushes when Donna got her cherry popped and got her first hard prick inside her. 

Donna started pulling at the towel, and then tearing up handfuls of grass and her air raid siren got good and warmed up as her hips started thrusting up off the ground and she SCREAMED like she was being just KILLED as she had an orgasm. Her head was flailing back and forth and I expected to feel Robby's hands beating on me again, trying to get me off. 

But it was pretty obvious that Donna was working up to it. Also, Robby had felt what was happening to Donna, and I think they could hear the joy in Donna's voice that sounded like screams of torture to me, because all Robby and Claire did was masturbate like CRAZY while Donna came all over my cock. 

Donna shouted my name and called for her mamma, and said some very bad words and bucked like a bronco at a rodeo while I used all my weight to stay on ... and in her. 

She was gasping for air and that was noisy too, and I stopped to give her a chance to breathe and because what she'd just done made me feel so manly I was about to spurt. 

"Don't *gasp* stop *gasp*" she ... gasped. 

"If I don't stop I'll cum." I gasped back. When had I lost my breath like that? 

"YES!" she shrieked. "DO THAT!" 

Well, as they say, the customer is always right. So I started in again and it felt so good that about half a minute later I groaned and said "Here it comes Donna!" 

Which was about then Claire shouted at us. 

"WAIT ... DONNA ... WHEN WAS YOUR LAST VISIT?" 

And Miss September, whose pussy had at last become accustomed to my prick enough to be able to flutter all around it yelled "SHUT THE FUCK UP CLAIRE!" 

I groaned and felt soothing semen rush through my prick. Donna's eyes got wide and she said "I FEEL it!" 

It felt so good I got weak and sort of collapsed on top of Donna. And it did something to her too because I felt fire in my shoulder as she BIT me! She said she was sorry later, that she didn't even know why she did that. I had a perfect impression of her front teeth on the front of my shoulder for two weeks and had to be really careful when I took showers so that my folks didn't see it. 

Anyway, Robby wanted to go again, but I was so exhausted that I just rolled off of Donna and then rolled onto my front so nobody could get to my poor penis. Robby sat on my butt and taunted me, saying I was a wimp, and maybe even queer or something, but it didn't work. I wanted to go to sleep but damned if all three of the girls weren't all perky and excited. They were chattering like they had each eaten a pound of sugar or something. 

When they found out I really wasn't going to do anything else they insisted it was time to go anyway. We had a minor panic attack when Donna said she was too sore to walk. She was hobbling around bow legged and it would have been funny except that there HAD been blood when I finally got off of her. She didn't keep bleeding, but there was no way she was going to be able to walk into her house like that and not be asked all kinds of very dangerous questions. 

Nobody knew what to do. How did you do first aid for a sore pussy? I joked about being willing to give her "mouth to mouth" and Robby started rolling up her towel to snap me with it. Donna kept tiptoeing along, going "OW" and "SHIT" and other sounds that made it clear she was in some real pain. 

We were half way home and it hadn't gotten any better and we were getting worried. How the heck were we going to be able to explain this? Then Robby started squealing and said "I have an idea. Claire! Come with me." 

Robby took off running, turning around to make sure Claire was following her. Claire wasn't, because Claire didn't like to run, but Robby got her going and they disappeared from view. 

"I'm really sorry Donna" I said when we were alone. "I knew I shouldn't do it." 

Miss September stopped and looked at me. "I wouldn't change things for anything," she said. 

"Really?" I was pretty amazed. 

"Really!" she said firmly. "I may never let you touch me again, but I wouldn't change things for anything." 

I must have looked pretty depressed, because she laughed and said she was just kidding. Then she winced as she took a step. 

We took it slow and about fifteen minutes later saw movement in the woods. It was Claire and Robby coming back. I grinned when I saw they were bringing two bikes apiece. Claire had gone and gotten hers and mine, while Robby got her own and one from somewhere else. Only one of them was a true "girls" bike, with no ball buster bar from the seat to the handlebars. 

When we got to Donna's house Claire was riding the girls bike and Donna was pushing mine. It had the best bar for the story we were going to tell. Robby, seeing Donna limping along, thought about the last time she had felt like that, which was when her feet slid off her pedals during an encounter with a pot hole and she had slammed down on the ball buster bar. Of course, she didn't have any balls to bust, but ask any girl what it's like and they'll tell you stories to make your blood curdle. 

Claire threw her bike on the ground and ran up on the porch and into the house. She came back out with Donna's mom, who had a look of real concern on her face. Claire had told her "what happened" while we were riding bikes. Donna insisted she was OK, and didn't need to go to the hospital or anything, and that she just needed to sit down somewhere for a while. Mrs. Miles thanked us for helping Donna get home and took her daughter into the house. 

The rest of us looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. Robby took off toward her house and Claire and I headed home. It was almost supper time. 

The phone rang about seven that night and my mom answered it. 

"Bobby?" I heard her say. She yelled for me and said the phone was for me. 

It was Mrs. Miles. "Bobby? Could you come over here? I need to talk to you about something," she said. 

This just couldn't be a good thing. "Sure" I said brightly. I told my parents where I was going and walked over to their house. On the way I tried to think of all the little chores I'd done for Mrs. Miles over the years. She was the only divorced woman I knew, and, not having a man around the house, she sometimes needed a little help with a few things. She was pretty independent, though, and I couldn't think of anything she'd need me for this late in the evening. 

When I got there and knocked, Mrs. Miles came to the door. She smiled, which made me feel better, and led me into the living room where Donna was sitting on the couch. She looked as unhappy as I've ever seen a girl look. That made me a little unhappy too. 

I had a bad feeling about this. 

CHAPTER NINE 
 
"Sit down, Bobby." Said Mrs. Miles. "You can sit by Donna if you like ... since you two are such good ... friends." 
 
Oh shit. 
 
It turned out that our carefully planned grand scheme ... or should I say Robby's wild and unplanned grand scheme ... had a couple of flaws in it. 
 
First off it never occurred to us that Donna's mother would want to ... inspect ... her daughter's bike riding injury. 
 
Secondly, we hadn't gone back in the water after our afternoon activities. 
 
A third problem couldn't really be called our fault, since we didn't really have any reason to even think about the fact that Mrs. Miles was completely cognizant of what sperm looked ... and smelled ... and yes ... tasted like, to say nothing of her ability to look at a recently fucked pussy and recognize the kind of trauma recent fucking DOES to a pussy. 
 
We could have blamed it all on Donna. Getting caught, I mean.  We could have said that, when her mother told her to take off her swim suit so she could see the damage, Donna should have begged to take a shower first or something like that. But Donna wasn't thinking any clearer than any of the rest of us, so that wouldn't have been fair. 
 
And, of course, Mrs. Miles knew all about Donna's nickname ... and who had given it to her ... and the fact that the same boy had been out with her daughter that afternoon. 
 
It also turned out that Donna wasn't very resistant to interrogation. She and her mother really DID share just about everything. About the only saving grace was that Donna had made it quite clear to her mother that it had taken her literally months to GET me to pop her cherry, and that I had done so only when begged. 
 
Of course, when Mrs. Miles sat in a chair across from us and just looked at the two of us, frowning slightly ... I did not know all of this extremely crucial information. 
 
"Bobby?" she said. "I want to ask you some questions. I want you to tell me the truth." 
 
She waited for me to respond to her statement. 
 
I swallowed. I wanted to look at Donna, but I knew that was a bad idea. "Yes ma'am." I said. 
 
Mrs. Miles asked "How did Donna get her ... injury this afternoon?" 
 
"Mom, I told you ..." came a pleading voice from beside me. 
 
"Be quiet Donna." said her mother. 
 
My first instinct was to stick to the plan. But the look on Donna's face when I got there suggested the plan was in sad shape.  Then I felt the urge to just say that I wasn't looking when it happened, and didn't know exactly how "it" had happened.  I mean that was true, wasn't it?  I wasn't actually looking at my prick when Claire slapped my ass and I slayed Donna's hymen.  
 
But my father had always taught me that the measure of a man is what he says, when what he says, could be hurtful to him. What me meant by that was that sometimes, telling the truth can get you in trouble, and that a real man disregards that little problem. My dad was big on truthfulness. 
 
Then again, I couldn't just say "Well, Mrs. Miles, I climbed up on top of your sweet little daughter here and just fucked her bowlegged, that's what happened." 
 
I took a breath .. and the middle road. "Um ... I might have had something to do with that." I said. 
 
That was fairly noncommittal. It was obvious she was suspicious, but how much did she actually know? 
 
"You ... might have?" asked Mrs. Miles. "Tell me Bobby, how many other boys were there when this happened?" 
 
Oh boy. "None, ma'am." I answered truthfully. 
 
"So it was just you and the girls?" 
 
"Yes ma'am." 
 
"And you were out riding bikes?" she asked. 
 
Well, we rode them at the end, right?  OK, except for Donna, and anybody would understand why she didn't want to actually sit on a bike seat just then. But Mrs. Miles did say "You", which could be construed to mean just "me" and even three out of four was a clear majority of people who rode bikes.  That wasn't too far from the truth ... technically. 
 
"Yes ma'am." I said, technically truthfully. 
 
"Aren't Donna and Roberta a little young for you?" she asked. 
 
I sort of missed how she slipped Roberta's name in there.  All I heard was the young part.  I was thinking a mile a minute, trying to come up with something to say.  
 
"I guess so" I said first. "Except that I like being around them." 
 
"I just bet you do." said Mrs. Miles. "Couldn't you have at least used a rubber?" 
 
"I didn't have one, ma'am." I said on impulse. Donna elbowed me hard. My heart sank. 
 
I hate it when parents do that kind of thing to you. They get you talking and answering questions and then they slip that one question in that tars and feathers you because you answer it automatically, because you're used to answering questions. 
 
Mrs. Miles stood up. "Donna, you sit right there. Bobby and I are going to have a little private discussion. Don't you move an inch until we get back. Is that clear?" 
 
She didn't wait for an answer because she knew her daughter well enough to know no answer was needed. Instead she crooked her finger at me. It would have looked sexy, except that I figured she knew where that filleting knife was too, and that I was about to find out what it felt like to have my balls cut off ... privately. 
 
She led me to her own bedroom. That didn't seem odd to me. I mean what more private place in a house is there than the parent's bedroom? Then she closed the door. That didn't seem odd to me either. She wanted privacy, right? I mean who wants witnesses when you're going to cut somebody's balls off?
 
She walked to the middle of the room and paced around a little before turning and facing me. I have to say here that Mrs. Miles was a nice looking woman. She was probably in her mid thirties or so and had her hair styled like Farrah Fawcett. Donna's comment that her mother looked more like Miss September than Donna did flitted through my mind, but I clamped down on that. This was the wrong time to be thinking things like that. 
 
"You were very stupid today," she said, folding her arms under her breasts. That just put those breasts on display, sitting there on her arms.  They deserved to be on display.  They looked pretty spectacular to me.   I shook my head. I was having a hard time concentrating. 
 
"Yes ma'am." I said. 
 
"Would you PLEASE stop calling me MA'AM?" she said darkly. "You're making me feel like I'm an old woman. My name is Shirley. And since you're man enough to have sex with my daughter, I suppose you're man enough to call me Shirley." 
 
"Yes ma'am ... I mean ... Shirley." I was NOT going to be able to call this woman by her first name. It just blew my mind to even think about doing that. Then the enormity of what was going on hit me and I realized that all men called their Mother-in-law by her first name.   Was that what this "private chat" was all about?    I had fucked her daughter and now she was going to demand that I make an honest woman out of her?" 
 
"You could easily have gotten her pregnant, Bobby." said Shirley. 
 
"I know." I said miserably. "I didn't mean to do it actually." 
 
"Yes" said Shirley. "Donna told me that. She said she had to beg you. Is that really true?"
  
"I didn't want to hurt her."  I said, by way of a very weak explanation.  "I knew it would hurt her." 
 
"And how would you have known that ... Bobby?" asked a very shrewd Mrs. Miles. 
 
"Well ... I kind of learned that because of ... um ... some other times?" I finished it as a question. 
 
"What others, Bobby?" came the inevitable question. 
 
"I can't really say Ma'... um Shirley. I mean it wouldn't be right to say their names." 
 
"Well, at least he has SOME discretion." said Shirley to her imaginary friend. All women have one of those. They talk to them pretty regular too. 
 
She looked me dead in the eye. "Do you love Donna Bobby?" 
 
"Um ... that's not an easy question to answer." I said. She hadn't brought out that filleting knife and I was beginning to get interested in the fact that this was a conversation, and not a screaming match. "I mean I'd never hurt her on purpose, nor would I allow any harm to come to her. I like her for sure. She's bright and friendly and smart and I like being around her." I looked back at Shirley. "I guess I'd have to say I'm not to sure what love feels like." 
 
Shirley was looking at me with her head cocked to one side a little. It made me want to cock my head too, so her eyes would look right. I didn't though. 
 
"Do you have a rubber with you right now?" asked this strange woman. 
 
"No ma'am." I grimaced as she frowned. "No." 
 
"I thought all boys carried rubbers with them these days," she said. 
 
"I guess some might." I admitted. Then, probably because I just needed to talk to let out some stress, I told her what I thought about getting rubbers out of machines that sold "instant pussy". She actually laughed. 
 
"How many of the other girls have you ... um ... done the same thing with that you did with Donna?" she asked. "I mean Claire's friends." she added. 
 
This was getting dangerous again. "Look, Shirley, I don't really want to talk about that. I know what I did with Donna was wrong, and I'm sorry about that. If you want me to marry her then I will. I don't know how we'll get along, but I'll do the right thing." 
 
Saying that made me so weak in the knees that I had to lean against the wall. 
 
She got a look on her face that was clearly startled. Then she put her hand over her mouth, but not before I saw a smile there. She turned around, facing away from me and stayed that way for a few seconds. When she turned back around the frown was on her face again. 
 
"You're very lucky that Donna's last period was only a few days ago. She's not pregnant, Bobby. And she doesn't want to marry you. I don't want her to marry you either, for that matter. That would be a disaster of the first magnitude. At least right now." 
 
Talk about hitting a guy when he's down.   I was ... unacceptable ... as a potential mate for Miss September!     
 
But I wasn't stupid. 
 
"Thank you." I said. 
 
"However ..." said Shirley, "there are going to have to be some changes. I will NOT have you impregnate my daughter in the future, either accidentally OR on purpose. Is that clear?" 
 
"Yes ma'am" I held up my hands as her frown deepened. "I'm sorry. I was taught to say that. I'll try harder. And you're no old lady by any stretch of the imagination, so don't think that's what I think." 
 
Shirley toyed with the top button on her blouse. "Donna told me what you did for her," she said. 
 
"What was that?" I asked. 
 
"About her nipples." said Donna's mother with a straight face. 
 
"Oh" I blushed. 
 
"That was a very nice thing to do for a girl like her Bobby." 
 
"Well, it bothered her a lot and she thought she was ugly and all that, but she wasn't, so I just tried to help her understand that she was really beautiful." I was talking too much, but I couldn't help it.  The relief of knowing I got to keep my balls made me giddy.   That and knowing that I didn't have to go home and tell my parents I was engaged.
 
"And you got to do some fun things at the same time." said Shirley. 
 
I blushed more. "Well ... yes." 
 
She laughed again. "I thought so. Well, at least you're honest. Tell me this. What was all that stuff about telling Donna she looked like that woman in Playboy? Were you just trying to get in her pants?"
  
"Oh HELL no!" I gasped. "She was only what? Twelve? Thirteen maybe? I just thought she was cute and then I saw that picture and I could see the resemblance. I thought about it at night when I ..." My mouth snapped shut as I realized what I had been about to say. And when I tried it on her she got so upset I just knew it was a winner of a nickname.  I guess I was kind of mean to them back then."
 
Shirley Miles had a knowing look on her face. "Well, all in all you have done some very nice things for my daughter. You did some dangerous and stupid things too, but I don't think you were being selfish about it." There was a slight pause. "And all kids get curious, now don't they?" 
 
I didn't answer. She stepped toward me. 
 
"Still," she said. "I'm going to have to do something to ensure you do not do something stupid with my daughter again." 
 
The obvious fix zapped straight into my mind. All she had to do was call the cops and tell them what I'd done. I couldn't very well do anything stupid with her daughter if I was locked up in reform school somewhere, now could I? 
 
"Take off your pants Bobby." said Shirley calmly. 
 
"Beg your pardon?" I asked. 
 
That film sprocket was acting up again. 
 
"I want to see what all the fuss is about," she said. "You showed it to my daughter ... and probably some of her friends, from the way you're acting. I think I have a right to see what caused my baby to bleed.  Just call me ... curious ... if it makes you feel better." 
 
When I didn't do anything her hands reached out and unbuckled my belt. 
 
"Come on Bobby, I won't hurt you." said Shirley Miles in a soft, convincing voice. 
 
Where had I heard that line before? 
 
Mrs. Miles - I just had a hard time thinking of her as Shirley, you know? - got the belt undone without looking at it. She looked right into my eyes the whole time. And somehow she got the button on my shorts undone, and then her hand brushed against Mr. Happy as my zipper came down. 
 
Mr. Happy, perhaps able somehow to feel the genetic similarities between Miss September's hand and her mother's, lifted his cute little head and said "Again? So soon? Oh GOODY!" Even If I knew who was pulling that zipper down, he didn't. 
 
Or maybe he just didn't care. 
 
So, when Mrs. Miles' eyes finally unlocked from mine and slid down my chest as she knelt in front of me, and my shorts dropped to the floor like they had lead weights in them, Mr. Happy was wrestling with my underwear like a man on Safari, trying to push tall grass aside so he could see his prey. 
 
Except the "prey" found him first. 
 
I was staring at a mirror that was attached to a long dresser kind of thing against the wall, and what I saw was a seventeen year old boy, not too bad looking, sunburned around the face, wearing a shirt and, where his dick should have been, was this big fluffy blond Farrah Fawcett hairdo that made it look like the boy had pubic hair you'd expect to see on Big Foot.   I had to grin.
 
What Shirley Miles saw as she 'parted the grass' by pulling my underwear down to my knees, was the bobbing tool that had, indeed, made her daughter bleed. And, it was in the same condition it had been in when said bleeding took place. 
 
Mr. Happy, possibly blinking in the sudden light, moved his head around here and there, going "OK, where is she? I'm ready! I won't fail you Bobby. Just bring her on." 
 
"My, my, my." said Mrs. Miles. 
 
Mr. Happy gave a little "eeep" as the light was suddenly cut off again and it got very ... very dark. That was because Shirley Miles had his head lodged firmly in her mouth. 
 
I believe I said something very close to "Eeep" as well.
 
It's a good thing I was leaning against that wall, because otherwise my dick might have gotten all scraped up against her teeth as it was jerked between them while I fell in a heap. But I managed to just sag a little, and she was able to compensate for that. 
 
I found out in short order that Donna wasn't necessarily a quick learner. I think there was a genetic component in her ability to learn how to suck me like a pro.   Shirley Miles had a very talented mouth.
 
What's that you ask?
 
What was I thinking about while all this was going on? 
 
Well, a few years back there had been this movie that caused a sensation. It was called "The Graduate" and, though kids our age weren't allowed in the theater to see it, rumor about that movie got thoroughly distributed around the teen set. For most of us boys my age, that whole get seduced by an older woman thing was just a far out fantasy. I mean Dustin Hoffman was a college student, right? So while it might happen to college students, there was no way it was going to happen to somebody not even out of High School.  Anybody knew that. 
 
That's what I was thinking. I was thinking that this couldn't possibly be happening to me.
  
Mr. Happy gave another strangled little "eeep" as it got all bright again when Mrs. Miles pulled her sucking lips off of him. He just stuttered inanely this time, but I knew what he meant. He meant to say "It's too bright! Get that mouth back over my head! Please?" 
 
Those eyes rose to pin me even harder to the wall again. I realized that Mrs. Miles looked awfully good for an older woman. I mean she HAD to be at least thirty-five. But she licked her lips like she was only twenty. 
 
"Do you know how long it's been since I've had a man Bobby?" she asked me, her lips only an inch from mine. 
 
"No ma'am" I said. 
 
"Women like me can get an awful reputation if they ... fraternize ... with men," she said. Her lips pursed and she gave me two little soft lipped kisses, just like those nipping kisses I loved to give the girls. 
 
"Ummmm" I answered. Even I had no idea what I meant. 
 
"So I haven't had a man for a very long time Bobby.  And I've needed a man for a long time too," she said in a slightly whiney voice that made my dick leak.  "But you wouldn't tell anybody if I ... fraternized ... with you ... would you Bobby?" 
 
"No ma'am" I said firmly. 
 
"And then I could put Donna on the pill, and there wouldn't be any more of those dangerous little swimming sessions for me to worry about ... would there Bobby?" 
 
I wasn't stupid. This was the chance of a lifetime. "NO MA'AM" I barked. Any Drill Sergeant would have beamed at my response. 
 
She kissed me one more fluttery kiss and said "Good." 
 
Then she stood back and unveiled ... Miss Playboy Of The Year. 
 
Shirley Miles was in GOOD shape. She had heavy, but firm breasts that had suckled only one baby, and she was either vain enough, or just had a healthy enough lifestyle to have kept her waist narrow and her thighs free of that layer of fat that most women have and all women just hate. Her nipples were a coral color I had never seen before, and they were, by no means, inverted. If anything you could have put a light shirt on a hanger and hung it from those jutting delicious nubs. Her pubic hair matched exactly the color of Farrah Fawcett's hair on her head. 
 
Donna was actually right. She DID look more like Miss September than Donna did. 
 
True, she had a little extra flesh on her stomach that made it slightly rounded, rather than flat as a board, like Donna's and Robby's, and there was also enough flesh on her hips that I couldn't see any bony protrusions, like on some of the girls. 
 
But that just made it better. 
 
She was a real woman, in every sense. My prick leaked a string of precum that hung down and swung around as Mr. Happy danced in time with my heartbeat. 
 
"My, my" she said in that mellow voice of hers as her eyes followed the jerking pattern that drip of precum made in the air. "We're a little eager, now aren't we?" 
 
"Ummmmm" was all I could produce. I suddenly realized that the only person in the room who was wearing anything at all was me, and that it shouldn't be that way. I tore my T shirt off, over my head. 
 
"Steady, tiger." she purred. "We only have time to do this once ... right now anyway. Let's just try to pace ourselves a little, OK?" 
 
She held out her hand to me and I saw mine lift. I saw her pull my hand to the bed, where she sat, swiveled and lay back, wide open. I saw my hand go down beside her on the bed and suddenly she was under me. My view went to her eyes and stayed there as I felt her hand grip my manhood and pull. 
 
Then there was just sweet bliss as Mr. Happy drowned in soft, warm pussy. 
 
I think two things saved me from being a typical teenage boy in that situation. First, it was so unreal that my mind just couldn't really believe that my prick was buried in a real woman, especially since it was Donna's mother. 
 
And, I had been called on to go ... and go ... and go, so to speak, on more than one occasion ... and had learned, somewhere along the way, to do so. 
 
Mrs. Miles made completely different sounds than any of the girls. Her sounds were a mixture of moans and "Mmmmm"s and soft "Awwww"s that almost sounded like words in a foreign language or something. They were patently appreciative sounds. At some point I remembered that I was part of what was going on and used a couple of the moves I had learned with the girls. I also managed to get my lips around those hot pink nipples. They went much farther into my mouth than any of the girls' nipples had, and were a delight to suckle. 
 
"I see why Donna let you do this to her." moaned Donna's mother.   "You're GOOD at this."
 
Donna's mother also had a way of writhing under me, an undulating kind of wave-like motion that aided me in digging deep into her. Five minutes later Mrs. Miles tensed up. 
 
I had a sudden horrid thought that the lonely wolf reaction to an orgasm in a Miles woman might also be hereditary. If that was true, Donna would be charging through that door in about ten seconds, and she'd have that filleting knife in her hand. 
 
I kissed Mrs. Miles on the lips as I dug my cock deep into her and then said "Please don't scream." as urgently as I could. 
 
Her eyes, which had been closed, popped open and her mouth made an "O" shape that looked like it was perfect to reproduce the sounds of an air raid siren. 
 
But she didn't. Instead she moaned "She's a screamer, is she?" 
 
And then her pussy went just wild. It rippled and clamped down and did all kinds of amazing things that felt like a Swedish massage to Mr. Happy and she gave a long, slow groan that was just delightful to my ears. 
 
She shook like a dog and her hips thrust up hard. Her mouth, in a wide grimace gasped out "Maybe I should get on the pill too." 
 
Ohhh boy. Talk about fireworks in the sky and stars shooting every which way and all the blood in your body rushing in a second and a half to your balls so they have enough oxygen to empty themselves in one massive clenching rush. It felt like one of my legs had sucked up inside me and was trying to get out of my body through my prick and into her pussy. 
 
It was my turn to groan, except that I don't think I had enough control over my vocal chords to actually make the sound. I got light headed and fell on top of Shirley Miles' soft, supporting body as my cock spat its load deep into her welcoming pussy. 
 
I came back to reality feeling her hands stroking my back in big circles. Her pussy was still doing that massage, even though I was beyond hope of anything that involved energy. If there was a sperm cell left in me, it had been abandoned by the muscles that would propel it into her sucking slit.
 
She didn't have to worry about her daughter ... or anybody else. I felt like I'd never be able to get it up again. 
 
I felt my body rocking on hers and realized it was my lungs, trying to drag in enough air to keep me alive. I was surprised they still worked. 
 
"Thank you Bobby," she said into my ear. "I really needed that."
 
"You're more than welcome, Shirley" I was able to say.   After THAT I could call her Shirley.
 
We lay there for another five or so minutes and then she pushed me off. 
 
"Donna will be wondering what happened to us," she said, lying there, not attempting to move. "Be a good boy and get dressed and go tell her we're done. Tell her I was tired and went to bed, OK?"
  
"Sure." I said, dragging myself to an upright position. She looked beautiful splayed out on the bed. "And thank YOU." I added. 
 
Her head rolled so she could look at me. "Not a word Bobby," she said unnecessarily. 
 
"Don't worry." I said. 
 
"We won't be able to do this very often," she said softly. 
 
"That's OK" I said. "I'm glad you had a good time." 
 
Yeah, I know, it was stupid. But I was only seventeen. She just smiled.  And then she said something I thought was a really high compliment.  
 
"I DID have a good time Bobby.  The best time I've had in a lot of years."
 
When I got out to the living room Donna was fidgeting on the couch, right where we'd left her. I must have looked as worn out as I felt. She jumped to her feet. She winced as she did it. 
 
"WHAT HAPPENED?" asked Donna in an anxious loud whisper. "You were gone so LONG!" 
 
"We had a serious talk." I said. 
 
How do you tell a girl who just gave you her virginity a few hours ago that you just fucked her mother? 
 
You don't. That's how. 
 
"What's she going to do?" asked Donna. 
 
"I think she has decided that we were just satisfying our curiosity." I said.  "I think she's going to put you on the pill. 
 
Donna's eyes widened so much I thought her eyeballs might actually pop out of her head. 
 
I delivered the rest of the message I was charged with.  "She said she was tired, and was going to bed. She'll talk to you tomorrow."  
 
Donna's mouth opened and closed several times. "That's IT?!" she gasped. 
 
My knees were still a little wobbly. I sat down. "I think so." I said. 
 
"She's not going to tell all the other parents?" asked Donna. 
 
"I don't know. She didn't say anything about that." I answered truthfully. I couldn't think of any way she could do that without opening a HUGE can of worms that the whole town would know about in hours, but ... who knew what adults would do at any given minute? 
 
It was then that Donna described how, when her mother wanted to see her injury, to determine whether or not a visit to the doctor was needed, that the evidence of our activities had been displayed. Donna said as soon as she spread her legs and saw the spermy mess in her pubic hair she knew the jig was up. She said she couldn't believe it when her mother wiped one finger through that mess and tasted it. Shirley knew it had to be mine from the beginning. There was just too much history. She interrogated her daughter while Donna soaked in the tub and Donna spilled just about every bean she could find. Except she didn't admit that I'd done all the other girls too. 
 
"What do we do now?" asked Donna, looking lost. 
 
"I don't actually know, Donna." I said again, truthfully. 
 
Donna moved and winced again. 
 
"How are you doing?" I asked. 
 
She turned to look at me with a question in her eyes. 
 
"I mean about ... your ... um accident?" It was stupid not to be able to just talk to her, but for some reason I couldn't. 
 
"Oh ... that," she said dismissively. "It's not so bad. I'm just sore, that's all." Then she looked at me. "I'm not sorry we did it Bobby." 
 
"Thanks." I said. I really did feel better. 
 
"I just wish I knew what my mother was going to do," she said, frowning. 
 
"Me too." I said ... truthfully. 
 
I said goodbye and told Donna to just try to get some sleep. She said that hot bath her mother had put her in had helped, so she thought she might do that again and then go to bed. Then she kissed me lightly on the lips and repeated. "I'm not sorry Bobby." 
 
So I wandered off back home. It was dark by the time I got there, and my mother was still up.
  
"What was that all about?" she asked. 
 
"She needed some help with some heavy stuff." It was hard to lie to my mother, but I managed.
 
"So ... everything's OK?" My mother sounded unsure of herself. 
 
"Yeah, it's fine. We got it all taken care of." I said. 
 
I went to my room and started getting undressed. I was dead tired, both from the physical toll that had been extracted from me that day and because of the emotional drain on my system. 
 
Claire came through the door as I was taking my underwear off. 
 
"WHAT HAPPENED?" Her loud whisper was a duplicate of Donna's. 
 
"Don't you EVER knock?" I asked, turning around. The fact I was naked didn't even enter into my mind. And for once she didn't look at my prick.
 
"Come on Bobby ... what happened?" 
 
"We got caught. That's what happened." I said grimly. This was all Claire's fault anyway ... wasn't it? 
 
So I told Claire what Donna had told me, about HOW we got caught. Of course Claire's main worry was whether or not ALL of us had gotten caught, or just me and Donna. 
 
I didn't mention the ... counseling session ... Shirley had engaged in with me.   It wasn't anybody's business but mine and Shirley's.
 
"What's she going to do?" asked Claire. 
 
"All I know is she said she was going to put Donna on the pill." I said. "Now get out of here. Mom is already suspicious. I don't want to go through the same thing with her that I went through over there." 
 
My mind sprocket slipped a few times as images of my mother taking her clothes off in front of me flitted around in my brain. I shook them off. I had enough trouble without something like that. 
 
Claire left and I rolled into bed. I was asleep in seconds. 
 
Things were tense for a few weeks as everybody waited for the other shoe to drop. The posse got together and Donna described everything that had happened at the creek, and afterwards ... in Technicolor, with sound effects, I imagine. 
 
I don't know how Shirley managed it. Not a single mother or father approached me and demanded to know what I'd been doing with their daughters, but somehow, it just came to pass that the whole posse got put on birth control by Doctor Phillips, the town physician. 
 
That's not to say I didn't get a few speculative looks from the various adults in my life. Shirley wouldn't tell me how she did it either. She just said that things had been taken care of ... girls being girls, and boys being boys.    She told me that as she writhed and moaned under me another time, not too awfully long after the first time, while the posse was over at Monique's house at one of their sleepovers. 
 
I worked up the courage to ask her if she too, had gone on the pill. 
 
"Not yet," she moaned. "I'm still thinking about it. Oh yessss, deep like that ... that's what I like." 
 
She told me years later that I was much more vigorous when she reminded me that she was unprotected. 
 
Who understands teenaged women who are in their thirties? 
 
Anyway, the next year was one of those years that it was fortunate I was in the prime of my life. With seven women making withdrawals from their privately managed sperm bank, there were times when the bank came perilously close to failing. And I had no FDIC to fall back on. 
 
That's kind of an interesting acronym, relative to that situation. Almost ironic, isn't it? 
 
On the other hand, I became capable of playing those women like the fine instruments they were and I could make them sing ... literally. I know my mother had suspicions. I spent way too much time around the posse, and they didn't, for some reason, date much. Monique let one other guy get into her panties, but that turned out to be a one time fling, during which she found out that experience counted for a lot in the lovemaking game. 
 
The point is that, while I make it sound like it was a trial for me, it wasn't really. That was a fantastic year for me. My grades were good and, if my reputation suffered because I wasn't going out quite as often, with quite as many girls, my self confidence flourished. 
 
There's nothing like having a bunch of women whispering in your ear about what a great lover you are to make a guy puff up like a rooster. 
 
So ... am I a slut? Most guys would call me a sex machine or a cocksman.   Maybe a stud, or bull.  I don't know what most women would call me. I'm kind of partial to "studmuffin", but I don't think the guy gets to pick.   But it doesn't matter what most women would call me anyway.
 
In reality there are only seven, whose opinion really matters to me. 
 
And they're all happy. 
 
Hey, I gotta run.  Shirley called me.  She has some ... um heavy things to move around, and there's nobody there to help her right now.   So it would be the right thing to do to go help her with her problem ... right?   
 
I'll see if I can get back with you in a little while and tell you what happened after that.   Stay tuned, cause I think you'll be entertained.

EPILOGUE: 

Life is strange. You can plan your life out, but don't assume your plans will come to fruition. By the time I graduated I was exceedingly well fucked, though not in the way people usually mean when they say "I'm fucked!" That was something I hadn't actually planned on as a young man. Most men dream of a career and hope to get laid by the time they graduate. With me it was kind of reversed. I dreamed of getting laid, and those dreams came true much earlier than they do for most men. But I never gave much thought to what I'd do with my life after High School. Maybe it was because I was living that sexual dream. I don't know. 

But the fact was, that when I walked across that stage and the Principal handed me my diploma, I had no idea what the heck to do next. I'd never wanted to be a fireman, or policeman, doctor or lawyer, and I had no concept of what most businessmen did. I just never thought about it much. I had worked part time for a hamburger joint called Sandy's, which was bought out in the seventies and is now known as Hardees, but that wasn't a career and I knew it even back then. 

I remember it to this day. I was driving along in town one day and I saw one of those big billboards that said "Uncle Sam Wants YOU!" with a picture of the kindly looking old guy with white hair and a beard, and a red, white and blue striped top hat. His finger pointing at me. So I went to the recruiting office to find out if that was true. 

Turned out it WAS true. So I joined the Navy. 

I spent six glorious years touring the world, almost all of it at sea because I loved that. And I found out that women all over the world appreciated the same exact things I had learned that the posse members appreciated. If you treated a woman with a little respect, you got all the pussy you could ever dream about. 

Oh sure, there were all the women who were hunting an American husband so they could get to the States and live the life of Riley, but they were pretty obvious, and I learned to avoid them, for the most part. I think the ones I liked the best were the ones who were curious about what an American male was like, socially and sexually. They were ... curious ... like the girls in the posse had been curious. Of course all those women hadn't known me for years, or been infatuated with me for years, and they didn't, for the most part, want to tie themselves to me for the rest of their life, or leave the culture in which they were most comfortable. But they all loved to feel good, at one level or another, and I found out that a warm pussy feels the same the world around. 

Well, I found out what it feels like through a condom. Those movies they show you every time you leave port are pretty damn scary, to say nothing of the stories the old timers loved to tell. Did you know they used to treat one kind of syphilis by laying out your infected prick on a table and smacking it with a big rubber hammer? When they did that it squirted, and it wasn't semen that came out. You could also hear the patient's screams clear through steel walls. I only had to hear that scream once and I made sure never to expose myself to any potentially infected pussies. And it didn't matter if the girl was a virgin or not either. In Singapore girls serve in the sex trade for years before they actually take a prick inside them. So virgins aren't necessarily safe either. Anyway, it still felt good, and it was still possible to make the girls feel good without giving or getting any unwanted little gifts. 

They say that all good things come to an end. A month before I was due to re-up, I got thrown into a bulkhead while we were riding out a hurricane. I ended up with a compound fracture of the bones in my lower right arm, an 'iffy back injury' and a cracked skull that led to a couple of months in the hospital and a medical discharge. Just as unplanned as when I joined, I was right back on the street, with no prospects. Oh, I had some training, but it was the kind of training that doesn't exactly mesh with civilian occupations very well. The one bright spot was that I had some money saved up, so I didn't have to be in a hurry to figure out what I wanted to do. 

My parents still lived in the same house, and my stuff was still boxed up in my room. My mother kept all that stuff. She had some kind of sixth sense that I'd be back, some how, some way. It was kind of eerie. So I went back to Junctionville to see what life had to offer me there. 

Of course one of the first things I did was check up on the members of the posse. I had gotten a few letters from them in that first year I had been gone, and Christmas cards every year from most of them. Claire wrote to me pretty regularly and kept me abreast of what was going on in her life. She mentioned the rest of the girls occasionally, but not in any great detail. I figured that after they graduated they probably drifted away from each other for the most part. That's what usually happens, right? 

My mom was, like most moms, overjoyed to see me, even though I hadn't called ahead to actually tell her I was coming home. She knew it would happen, but not when. I'd asked her not to tell anybody about that because I wasn't sure how things would shake down. And mom, like most moms, was eager to gossip about the girls. She didn't show any surprise whatsoever when I asked about the posse. 

Large Marge married Homer Gilson, of all people, right out of High School. She got pregnant almost immediately and, my Mom told me, had the cutest little toddler. But it turned out Homer had a drinking problem and a couple of years was all Marge would stand for. She divorced him and hadn't remarried. She worked for one of the lawyers in town as a paralegal. 

Loosey Suzy, A.K.A Hot Mamma, went to college and was working on her Doctorate in applied physics. She was married too, but didn't have any children yet. It turned out she was some sort of genius, and was about to graduate two years ahead of everybody else in her age group. 

All Mom knew about Monique was that she was married and had two kids. She and her husband still lived in Junktown but Mom didn't know much else. 

Donna got married but was childless thus far. She actually worked for my Dad in his Insurance business. Mom hinted that my dad was interested in me going to work for him. He was getting close to that age when men want to retire but are expected to work another ten years. Mom suggested that if he had a partner he could really trust, he could take more time off work and spend it with her. She wanted to see the world outside of Junctionville, but not alone. 

Knobby Robby went to college and graduated with an education major. she had somehow wrangled a job right there in town as the girls' gym teacher at the High School, and was coaching a winning volleyball team that Mom said everybody was right proud of. She ate lunch with Mom every Saturday and asked about me all the time. I found that surprising, since she had only written to me once after I left for the Navy. She hadn't been happy that I enlisted. There were a lot of body bags coming back from Viet Nam back about then and it hadn't looked like it was going to end real soon. Of them all she was the only one who screamed "I hate you Bobby Watkins!" when I got orders to go to basic. It was pretty obvious she didn't want me cluttering up her mail box with a bunch of letters, so I hadn't. 

Claire, of course, I knew more about. Like I said, she had written me pretty regularly, so I knew she still hadn't found the "right guy". She got a job working for a travel agency and was one of the reasons my Mom wanted to travel so much. I had fed Claire tips about where to send tourists in various places around the world. You know ... which hotels were the best for the uninitiated, and what sights to recommend seeing, customs and culture stuff ... all that that you never really get without actually being there. I also gave her tips on what Americans did that pissed off nearly everybody in other cultures, so she could warn them not to do that kind of shit. She had her own apartment now, over on the other side of town somewhere. 

I called Claire first. My mother hadn't told her I was coming home, as I had asked. She wanted to surprise her too. 

"Hey" I said into the phone. 

"Bobby? ... BOBBY?!" squealed Claire. I hadn't been all that good about calling in the last five or so years. 

"Hi Claire Bear." I said. "I missed you." 

"BOBBY?" she squealed again. "Where ARE you?" 

"Well, at the moment I'm in our parent's house. I have my old bedroom back and everything." 

"YOU'RE HOME?!" she squealed. Claire was a good squealer. She squealed in bed a lot too, or used to. 

"Yeah, I kind of got hurt and they kicked me out. You wouldn't know anybody who has a job they need to fill do you?" I tried to act like my being home was no big deal. I mean everybody had moved on, right? 

"2201 Maple" said my sister tersely. "Be there in ten minutes. You are in BIG trouble Mister!" She might have moved on, but she was still the Sheriff, or thought she was. 

So I borrowed Mom's car and drove over to 2201 Maple, which turned out to be my sister's apartment. Half of a duplex, actually. I thought it was a little odd that she was in her apartment this time of day, especially since Mom had said the number she gave me was to where Claire worked. 

I knocked on the door and my baby sister opened it ... stark naked. One slim arm snaked out through the open door, grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and dragged me into the room. 

I swear to this day that it only took Claire sixty seconds to get me naked and drag me into her bedroom and push me down on the bed. Somehow, during that minute, Mr. Happy, who was, in fact, glad to see Claire again too, stood up to get his own hug and kiss of welcome back home. Claire let herself down on him, engulfing him in one long drop. She gave out that wonderful soft sigh of happiness that I'd heard so many years before as she settled her clit down onto my pubic bone and ground her hips in a little circle. 

For a guy who was in so much trouble I was feeling pretty good about things. 

Then she started rocking back and forth, milking my already leaking cock, and cussed me like SHE was the sailor. She cussed me for not calling, and for writing such short letters back to her. She cussed me for ruining her sex life by making her perpetually horny. She cussed me because she compared every man she went out with to me. Somehow it was all MY fault that they didn't measure up, and all MY fault that she'd never get married, and all MY fault that Mom was hassling her about "Where are my grandchildren? I'm getting ancient here!". 

Of course, intermixed with all that cussing were little statements like "Oooo you feel so good in me Bobby." and "Nobody makes me feel like you do Bobby." and "Mmmmmm I missed this so much." Things like that. 

In other words, it was STILL impossible to understand the opposite sex. 

And then, when she'd worked me up to a fever pitch, she leaned down and whispered the bombshell. "I have never let another man cum in me without a rubber Bobby. You wanna squirt up in my pussy?" 

She smothered my groan of assent with her lips and I fountained her full of twenty-four year old sperm ... sperm that was in the prime of its life ... sperm produced by healthy balls that were mad as hell that they had been denied the chance at fertilizing an egg for the last six years. Well, the analogy breaks down somewhere in there, but you get my drift. 

And, as she felt it flushing into her she got even redder in the face and growled "You WOULD come home right when I'm ovulating you bastard. You WOULD come home and fuck your baby in my belly the very first time you put your prick in me in the last six years." She sounded mad, but then she moaned "Oh Bobby, make a baby in me ... pleeease? I've been waiting soooo loooong." 

I may have mentioned this before, but I have to ask the question anyway ... who understands teenaged girls? Even when they aren't teenagers any more. 

But I'll tell you this. She drained every single healthy, eager sperm cell out of my balls that afternoon. She didn't go back to work and she didn't let me out of her apartment until Mr. Happy wouldn't budge whether she talked nasty, or used her mouth on him, or anything. She made it quite plain that it wasn't going to be any six years before she got him in her again, too. 

Between times we lay there cuddling and caught up. It wasn't all heated accusations and cussing. She talked about the men she'd met and tried to fall in love with, wanting to be "normal" like other women. But she pined for her first lover, who just happened to be her brother. 

She did get my brat in her belly too. And, oddly enough, while she was pregnant, she met Mister Right, who didn't care that she'd spread her legs once (thirty times!) too often than was good for her. He married her and they had four more of their own kids. 

Well ... they had four more kids anyway. Claire has never stopped pulling me through that door with a naked arm once in a while. And I'm a pretty normal looking guy, as is Jim, her husband, so who knows who her pretty normal looking kids have as a biological father. He has siblings too, so Claire's closeness to me isn't surprising to him. I don't think he really knows just how close we really are, but they're happy, so maybe it's better that way. 

This is going to seem a little disjointed, because I'll be bouncing back and forth in time, but it's easier to tell you what happened with each member of the posse in one sitting, so to speak. So be patient, kind reader, and understand that. 

One evening (before she met mister right) Claire called me and said she wanted to have dinner with me at Delvechio's, which was a little Italian restaurant that had opened up in the new strip mall that had been built while I was in the Navy. She told me to meet her there at a particular time. That seemed odd to me because usually Claire and I just ate at her house when she was feeling frisky. But I liked Italian food, and figured I should have some kind of relationship with my sister that DIDN'T involve sex, so I went. 

When I got there an employee who introduced himself to me as 'Bruno' (roll the 'r') smiled with perfect teeth and said in some sort of accent that wasn't anything close to Italian "Ahhhh you must be Meester Watkins. Come with me please." How he recognized me I don't know, but he led me to a table that contained my sister ... and Large Marge. 

Having a baby hadn't done anything bad to Marge at all. She was a little thicker in the waist, and didn't look quite so top-heavy, but I wouldn't find that out until she stood up. Right now those bounteous breasts of hers just bulged nicely, hanging over the table as she grinned and leaned forward. 

"Hi Bobby," she said. 

It was like I had entered a time machine. Her voice sounded exactly like it had when she had said "Hi Bobby" the morning after I took her virginity in my bedroom. 

"Hi" I said back. Marge still left me a little tongue tied. She was so beautiful, and a few added years only made her more beautiful. 

Claire was grinning. "I told her you were back in town and she wanted to see you." 

Marge looked up at me with smoldering eyes. "Claire told me what you two have been doing. Old ways die hard, eh Bobby?" 

I sat down. Bruno had arranged the chair so I'd be sitting across from them. "I'm sorry about your divorce." I said. I didn't know what else to say. 

"It's OK" she said. "He was a jerk." She smiled. "Besides, now I can spend some time with you again." 

Mr. Happy lurched in my pants. Marge always had that effect on me. 

Dinner that night was tense. While we chatted about the Navy and what Marge had been doing, and her little girl and all sorts of things, what was on everyone's mind during dinner was what would happen after dinner. Claire didn't give any indications about what the plans were though. Isn't it interesting that I expected Claire to call the shots? I guess it was a holdover from her days as the Sheriff or something. 

Marge grabbed the bill from Bruno when he brought it to the table. 

"This one's on me," she said. 

"How will I ever pay you back?" I asked, calling on some dim memory of what suave was like. 

"Oh you'll pay." said Marge. And she and Claire both laughed out loud. 

They had ambushed me, and had planned it that way. I had a girl on each arm as we left and, to my everlasting amazement I learned that some of the members of the posse were switch hitters. I had no idea they had ever done anything together though, now that I think about it, I should have had some suspicions. Donna had called me silly one time for thinking that the girls didn't know about her inverted nipples, and Robby had been embarrassed about being naked in front of ME, but not the other two girls, that first time she got naked at the creek. Not to mention that kiss she gave Donna before I pillaged Miss September's maidenhead. And I knew that they had all worked on Monique when she "prepared" to lose her virginity in that crocheted outfit that I heard the girls calling "so cute". And, oh yeah, Marge didn't mind showing them her cum-filled pussy either. 

So I shouldn't have been all that surprised when they took me back to Claire's apartment, got naked and almost fucked my brains out. And when I wasn't able to perform between bouts, they pleasured each other in ways that spurred my desire to ... perform. 

There was a time when I was lying on Marge's bounteous boobs, luxuriating in the feel of her hot pussy milking my cock for its nectar, when she kissed me and sighed. "It would be nice if you could marry me Bobby." Her pussy muscles milked me some more and I got close to blowing. "But you can't. It just wouldn't be right." 

I didn't know what that meant then and, to be honest, I wasn't listening too closely because there was an orgasm screaming through my balls right about then. All I heard was that she couldn't marry me. 

"If you ever change your mind ... let me know." I gasped, filling her up with gooey spunk. 

She smiled and kissed me again. "You're so sweet. You've always been so sweet." 

That from a girl who used to call me the most horrid pestilence to ever be loosed on the world. 

I still see Marge too, occasionally. She's dating a couple of guys but she says neither of them are serious. She never mentioned marriage again. I found out later why. 

The next member of the posse I ran into was Unique Monique. As I said, she was married and had two kids, the latest of which was only eleven months old when I ran into her at the grocery store. I was perusing the ever-growing number of different kinds of breakfast cereal when she turned the corner, pushing her cart towards me. We saw each other at the same time. I had been back a week but hadn't contacted her. I thought it might be a little awkward, her being married and all. 

Gentlemen, one thing you really need to remember is that a woman NEVER forgets her first man. That first full sexual experience, whether it goes really well, or disastrously, is imprinted on her brain until the day she dies. In the vast majority of situations, that's all it is ... a memory ... but once in a while, it's unfinished business too. After all the posse got deflowered, Monique came back for seconds and thirds and so forth up until the day I left for the Navy. She loved the way I made her feel, and I loved making her feel that way. 

When she saw me, and it connected who I was, the look on her face was classic. 

Monique was a lady. She didn't squeal or shout or anything. She pushed her cart up to me and said "I didn't know you were back in town." Her posture, and her voice and everything else about her, that a bystander might have observed, was completely normal ... just a woman bumping into a man she was acquainted with. 

But I could see what was in her eyes, and it looked just exactly like I remembered her eyes looking those times she showed up at our house and said "Hi Bobby." in that special voice she had that said, between those two simple words: "Bobby, I need a nice hard prick in me and sooner would be MUCH better than making me wait." 

We finished walking the aisles together and I admired her baby, which was a beautiful little boy she had named Theodore. Her other child, a two year old, was at her neighbor's house. The neighbor was another girl we'd gone to High School with, named Linda, who had gotten married right out of High School and started having babies of her own. She opened her house as a Day Care Center and took care of Monique's daughter, Nicole, during those few times Monique needed to be gone from the house. Monique, it turned out, was a stay-at-home mom, whose husband worked over in Derby at a natural gas pumping station there. 

Somehow I ended up following Monique home and carrying her groceries in for her while she took care of little Theodore, who was wet and hungry. I put her groceries in the kitchen and the cold stuff in the refrigerator and when I called out that I was done Monique yelled that she was almost done and for me not to go anywhere. Then she walked into the living room, her upper torso just as naked as the day she was born, with cute little Teddy firmly attached to a fat dark brown nipple. He was a noisy eater, I'll tell you that. Monique acted like I'd watched her nurse her son every day since he was born and continued to chat with me about this and that until she had burped him and his head got all noddy. 

"C'mon" she said, and I followed her to the kids room, where there were all the things little girls love and a crib for Teddy with toy elves and such suspended over it and other things like that. She put him down and then turned around to face me, her big, milk-filled breasts sticking out at me like the front bumper of a '56 Buick. 

"I've never cheated on Roger.": she said casually as she bent over, sliding her slacks down and stepping out of them. 

"As you shouldn't have." I said. I wanted her to have the opportunity to be able to say the same thing in about ten minutes. 

"This is different," she said. 

"Oh?" I asked. 

"Yes," she said simply. 

Monique liked to be on top too, and her breasts leaked all over me, dripping hot, white milk on my chest until she suggested it would be a lot less messy if I licked her nipples. I sucked instead and got mouthfuls of that warm, sweet offering as she rode my cock in that same languid way we had made love all those years ago. 

"This feels so good," she said, as if we were having a conversation about sitting in the sun. 

"What about Roger?" I asked. I liked what we were doing, and had done it to a lot of lonely navy wives in one port city or another, but I wasn't out to wreck any homes. 

She rocked on me and shivered as I sucked her milk. "I love him and I'll never leave him, but he wants me to make love to other men." 

"You're kidding." I said, astonished, letting that fat lovely nipple pop out of my mouth. 

"He's a little wimpy" she said, almost apologetically. "He says he likes to feel like his wife is attractive to other men, and that the idea of seeing me being made love to by another man makes him horny. He's been trying to get me to do this for a long time. I wouldn't do it before, but now that you're home I think I can make him happy from now on." 

"Oh." I said. I would never have pegged Monique to be attracted to that kind of man. 

"Besides" she said, rocking harder and panting. "Roger already gave me two beautiful babies." 

She came on my cock and moaned. "And I never got to have yours." 

Presto. For the second time in a week a woman was asking me to knock her up. I was beginning to be very glad we'd sailed into that hurricane. 

It turned out that Monique had met Roger at a seminar she attended while she was in college. He was from back East somewhere and was ... different ... from anyone she'd ever met before. She invited me to dinner a couple of days after I carried her groceries in for her and introduced me to Roger as the man that would make his dreams come true. I had no idea how he'd react, but Monique didn't seem to be worried at all. It was as different a situation as I've ever been in. 

That night I made love to a woman for the first time in my life while her husband sat in a chair and watched. It was surreal and I didn't think at first that I'd be able to actually make Roger's dream come true. I was also a little distracted by having to make constant checks on him to make sure he hadn't gone to get a baseball bat while I lay between his wife's legs and she urged me to give them their third child. But when he hauled out his dick and began whaling on it like there was no tomorrow I realized he really WAS different in some way that I still don't understand. 

So I forgot about him and set about making one of Monique's dreams come true. 

I noticed something about Monique while I spurted her full of my semen in front of her husband. Her orgasms were different. When we had made love in the past she had tight almost controlled orgasms, where she tensed up and made little mewling sounds of appreciation and joy. But when Roger was watching she got loud and wild in her gyrations, thrusting up at me harder. At first I thought she was acting, but as time passed I realized she was actually letting herself go. She was doing that for Roger - experiencing something with us both that she couldn't experience with only one of us present. When she went wild under me, he went wild in that chair. In a weird twisted way she loved him and understood him and wanted him to be happy. She thought - and she was right as far as I can tell - that Roger NEEDED that kind of stimulation to get off in a way that was most pleasurable for him. I talked about all this with a shrink friend of mine one time and he hypothesized that Roger had a letch for his mother (Don't all shrinks think that way?) and that watching Monique and me was feeding his fantasy of watching his mother and father make love. 

That was a strange relationship. It still is. Monique told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed to fuck her without a rubber until she was good and pregnant and that if he didn't like it he needed to remember that it was all his idea in the first place. I don't think she ever told him what she told the girls - that some day she'd have my baby. 

I gained ten pounds going to dinner at Monique's house over the next month and Roger shook my hand every time I showed up. In the end Roger was very happy, and so was Monique. She had a little girl and they named her Bobbie Jean. Roger's mother was named Jean. 

It was a strange relationship. For that matter it still is, though I only get invited to dinner every other month or so these days and Monique has gone back on the pill. She's still the most unique woman I know. Her husband too, for that matter. Except he's a man. You know what I mean. 

I went to work for my father and found out that I have a knack for helping people understand how insurance and annuities and all those kinds of things can help a family plan for the future so that retirement isn't a financial drag. I made a bit of money along the way, though for me, as long as I had enough to get by on I was pretty much happy. I thought about other people's futures a lot more than my own. Go figure. 

Working with Miss September was interesting. Donna was happily married, and didn't say anything about yearning to have my baby or anything like that. She was very warm toward me and just as beautiful as ever. She'd filled out a little and was more lush looking. Her attitude in the office was very professional and I really enjoyed being around her all day. For the first couple of months I was getting all the sex any man could want from Claire, Marge and Monique, so it was easy to just appreciate Donna for who she was without getting a boner every time I looked at her. Even though I got a boner just about every day at one time or another ... from looking at her. 

One day Donna came into my office and leaned against the wall with her arms folded. 

"So ... how long are you going to delay seeing Robby?" she asked. 

I knew Donna and Robby were still friends. Donna had mentioned Roberta several times, in passing conversation, and had told me a few things about Robby's volleyball team and all that. I couldn't remember if I'd actually asked for any of that information or not, and I couldn't understand or explain why I hadn't gone to see Knobby Robby. That made me uncomfortable. My mother still met her every Saturday at noon for lunch, but for some reason I never went along. 

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked. 

"Well, you've seen everyone except Roberta and Suzy," She put some uncomfortable emphasis on the word "seen". She went on "and Suzy is too busy to be bothered with you right now. So why haven't you gone to see Robby?" 

Obviously the posse kept in better touch with each other than I thought they had. 

"Well ..." I said. And then I ran out of words. I didn't actually know why I had stayed away from Robby. "I don't know." I finally finished. 

"She knows you're back." said Donna. 

"She does, does she." I stated. I knew that, of course. My mother would have told her. I was very uncomfortable for some reason. 

"Yes ... she does." said Donna unhelpfully. 

I looked at Donna, who was sweet and loving and in all ways a person I would categorize as a friend. 

"I don't know how to act around Robby." I said. 

Donna looked at me like I was some kind of bug or something. "You've been friends with Robby since you were a little boy! What do you mean you don't know how to act around her?" 

I got exasperated. "I don't know!" I got grumpy too. "She told me she hated me before I left. She never wrote to me but once, so I thought she didn't want to have anything to do with me any more." 

"And how many times did you write to her?" asked Miss September. 

"How many times did I write to you?" I asked, thinking I'd score one. I couldn't remember, but I knew I'd answered one or two of her letters. 

"Five" she said firmly. 

Had it really been that many? 

"And you wrote to Suzy two times, and to Marge three times, and to Monique once. We didn't keep track of Claire's letters. You treated her properly." 

"Oh." was all I could manage. 

"You hurt Roberta's feelings Bobby." said Donna in a voice that suggested I might be responsible for taking food from starving children all over the world. 

"I seem to be pretty good at that." I agreed miserably. "I don't understand it Donna. I always liked Robby." 

"So how long are you going to punish her?" asked the woman who I wished would go away and leave me alone now. 

"I'm not punishing her. She hasn't done anything wrong." I said. 

"That's nice to hear. Maybe Roberta would like to hear that too." she suggested. 

"She has to hate me by now." I said. 

"She has a right to." said Donna, getting more and more unhelpful all the time. 

"Why are you tormenting me?" I complained. 

"Because you NEED to be tormented. Bobby ... go see her ... please? She deserves that Bobby." Donna had changed her voice in the middle of that sentence, from accusatory to pleading. 

"Why do YOU care so much about this?" I asked, still trying to dodge her suggestion. 

"Because I love Robby and I love you and I don't want there to be this problem," she said. 

"Why dredge up old feelings?" I asked. "I mean look at you. You're happy. You don't want anything to do with me ... I mean like we used to ... you know?" 

"Whatever made you think that?" asked Donna. 

"Well, you're happily married and all that, and you obviously disapprove of what I've been doing with the others." I said. 

Donna had that "you miserable bug" look back in her eye and she folded her arms under breasts that had grown a little, and which, occasionally, showed two very obviously NOT inverted nipples on those breasts under the silk blouses she liked to wear. 

"You are just as stupid as you were six years ago Bobby Watkins. Sometimes I don't think you deserve to be happy!" And with that she turned and stalked out of my office. I was left wondering what the hell I had said that got her so riled up, and what the hell I should do now. 

For the next week none of the women who had invited me into their beds seemed to have any time at all for me. I may have been stupid, but I got the message. I had to make amends with Robby or I was going to be persona non gratis, or whatever the hell it is they call somebody who's been cut off from the rest of the world. 

By the time I showed up at the school, I had been back for two months. I had thought about going to see Robby at her house, which was a little two bedroom place on Washington street near the High School that, when I left for the Navy, had been owned by an old widow woman who routinely yelled at passing kids to stay out of her flowers. There had been no flowers in her yard and everybody thought she was crazy. I guess she had died, or moved to a nursing home or whatever, because Robby was living there now. 

But I couldn't work up the courage to face her in private. I thought seeing her at school might keep her from yelling at me or anything. So, at four in the afternoon I wandered into my old High School, and walked down the deserted hallway to the gym teachers' office suite. The men teachers had offices on one side of a dividing wall, and there was a small office on the other side of the wall reserved for the girls' gym teacher. On the glass were painted letters that spelled out "Miss Simms". Through the glass and the open Venetian blinds inside I could see a woman sitting at the desk, going through papers of some sort. 

I knocked on the door and Robby looked up. I knew it was Robby because of the angular features of her face. But that's all I recognized. Knobby Robby wasn't anything near knobby any more. Six years had brought her at last to the place where anyone looking at her saw a woman, and not a girl. 

She stared at me for a few seconds and then went back to her papers. 

All I could do was swallow and knock again. 

She looked up again. Her hair was different somehow. It was pulled back in a pony tail, like it always had been, but it was longer and darker blond. She was tanned, as I remembered her, but there was more flesh on her face. I realized with shock she was wearing lipstick, and her eyebrows were darker and more pronounced than when I last saw her. She got up, came to the door ... 

And pulled the cord that shut the blinds. 

The door did NOT open. There was a heavy clicking noise from the knob, though. 

I tried the knob. It was locked. Miss Simms was, indeed, unhappy with me. 

After all it had taken me to actually make myself go there ... I got mad. I turned and went back down the hall to another room I was familiar with. The door there was open, as it almost always had been in my memory. I looked in and saw good old Mister Jackson, the school custodian, who had been there when my parents went to this school. 

"Hey Mister Jackson" I said. He looked up and gave me that look that all such men have cultivated that means "I should remember you, but there have been so many people who came and went through that door that I really won't even try." Instead, he smiled and said "How can I help you?" 

"We can't seem to get the door open down at Miss Simms' office. It's locked." I said it like I had a right to get into that office and was just temporarily obstructed. I learned how to do that while I was in the Navy. Act like you're doing something official and nobody asks any questions. 

"That's odd." said Mister Jackson. "Robby never locks her door." 

Mister Jackson called Miss Simms "Robby"?! 

"Yes ... well, it's locked now." I said, putting a little impatience in my voice. 

"OK, I've got the key around here somewhere," he said. He got up, pulled a wad of keys off of a clip on his belt and went through them. "Here we go," he said, choosing one. 

I followed him down the hall and watched as he inserted the key in the lock and twisted it. He pushed the door open and there was Miss Simms, still sitting at her desk, going through those papers. She looked up. 

"Oh ... sorry Robby" said Mr. Jackson, showing respect to a woman who was forty years younger than he was. "This youngster here said he needed in here." 

Me? A youngster? I was a trained killer who shaved every single day! 

"It's OK Horace." said Miss Simms in a voice every teacher learns to use somehow. "He's a little dim witted and doesn't know how to properly make an appointment to visit a teacher. I suppose I can give him a few minutes." 

I got a look from "Horace" and he turned back to Robby. "Well, if you're sure. You want me to call Mister Robinson?" he asked. 

Mister Robinson was the Vice Principal. He dealt with unruly students and other unwanted problems. 

Robby stood up and smiled a tight little smile. "No, that's OK Horace. Thank you. I'll deal with this." I didn't like the way she said the word "deal". 

"Horace" gave me a last look that suggested I'd better behave myself if I knew what was good for me. The poor guy was so decrepit that it probably took him ten minutes to work up the energy to change a roll of toilet paper, but his shoulders squared up and there was a dark look in his eyes that communicated that he was willing to ... take measures ... if he was called on to do so. Then, still straight, he shuffled off down the hall. 

I stepped into the office before Robby could get up and close the door again. 

But I had nothing to say. I was paralyzed. I was a five year old in front of the teacher. I never felt more helpless in my entire life. 

"Uh ... hi." I croaked. 

I stared at Miss Simms. She had breasts ... and hips ... and muscles. She was, without a doubt, beautiful in a "strong woman" kind of way, with that obvious, visible confidence that makes rapists choose another victim. 

She put her hands on her hips. "What are YOU looking at?" she said. She still knew how to deliver that line perfectly. 

My anger had melted away, and my courage with it. I looked around and saw straight backed chairs lined up on the wall across from her desk. I sat in one of them. I looked at the floor in horror. 

I had just had an epiphany. 

Truth had just smote me like the sun smites your eyes when you walk out of a dark room into the open sunlight. I don't know if it was the way she looked, or the sound of her voice, or her stance or just what it was, but I had just realized why I was so completely useless at that moment. 

I was in love with Roberta Simms. 

Not only that ... I had ALWAYS been in love with Roberta Simms. 

I had heard about "love" all my life, and talked to countless sailors about how it felt to be in love. I had, a couple of times in my life - usually involving a naked woman - said "I love you" or words to that effect, even though I hadn't really meant them. I might have THOUGHT I meant them, but I now realized I had never actually understood those words in the past. And, I had heard those words from various women too, no small number of them in Claire's posse. 

And even from Roberta Simms. 

Except that back then I thought it was just newly fucked hormones saying it, and not Robby. I imagine that any time one of the posse told me she loved me, or that she had loved me for a long time, I just thought it carried the same meaning as "I just love popcorn" does at the movies. 

But now ... I understood that what I had felt ... but not recognized ... had been real, and deep, and a part of my essence. This woman owned a piece of me deep inside. 

And the realization of the fact that I was in love with Robby, and my memories of the way I'd treated her .. back then ... and since then ... well, they just crushed my heart like a steamroller going over an injured puppy that can't crawl out of the way. 

I was horrified. If I'd have had a gun it might have been messy. 

I know this sounds a little over the top to you out there in reader-land. But the fact was that I suddenly knew I was in love with a woman who would never love me back ... hated me right then, in fact ... and with good reason, like Donna had said. 

I saw the tears hitting the tile floor before I felt their hot trail down my cheeks. I felt panic rushing through my veins like fire. I had to get out of there. 

It was about then that I heard the door next to me close solidly. I also heard the lock being activated again, scraping closed like a massive lock on a heavy cell door being shut by a disheveled turnkey in an old dungeon. I realized my shoulders were shaking as I tried to sob without making any noise. 

I kept staring at the floor and heard the desk chair creak and move on its rollers as she sat back down. I had let my hair grow after finding out I would actually be getting out of the Service and enough of it hung down in the front that I could peek through it. Miss Simms was ... again ... looking through those damn papers. 

She was being kind, of all things ... giving me a chance to get control of myself. It just made me feel even worse. She should have screamed at me. I wouldn't have minded a bit. I'd even have welcomed her wrath. 

But she just sat there, looking beautiful and cool and adult. 

I took a ragged breath. Once I did that I had the energy to stand up and turn toward the door. 

"I'm sorry." My voice sounded strange to me. I realized my mouth was dry as a bone, and wasn't working right. 

"What?" came Robby's voice. 

I swallowed. "I said I'm sorry." I repeated, louder. I reached for the lock lever. 

"Sit down." said Miss Simms in her authoritative teacher's voice. "We're not done here." 

My head swiveled. "I said I was sorry. And I meant it. Can I go now?" 

"What, exactly, are you sorry for?" asked Miss Simms. 

"Don't make me do this Robby" I pleaded. "I said I was sorry. Let's just leave it at that, OK?" 

"Sit DOWN!" ordered Miss Simms. 

OK, I deserved this. SHE deserved this. I sat. 

"Look at me." said Miss Simms. 

I peeked through the hair in front of my eyes again. Miss Simms looked like that hurricane looked before we sailed right into its teeth. 

"You are SO gutless!" she snapped. 

"Yes" I agreed with her. 

"And THOUGHTLESS! You are SO THOUGHTLESS!" 

"Yes" I agreed again. 

"And you have the morals of a mink!" she growled. 

I didn't think that even needed any agreement. It was obvious. 

"And STUPID! You're unbelievably DENSE!" 

It sounded like this wasn't going to end real soon. But I actually felt a little better. She was right. And I deserved it, after all. 

I finally was able to look right at her. "Guilty as charged." I managed. 

"So WHY ... tell me WHY ... do I still love you?" Her voice had real question in it. 

"Beg your pardon?" I asked ... stupidly, I might add. She hadn't stuttered, and my ears didn't flap. 

"Why do I still love you, even though you treat me horribly, are stupid as a block of wood and have the morals of an alley cat?" She said that very clearly. 

"You love me?" I asked. Remember, I was dense. She had said so and she was absolutely correct. 

She shook her head sadly and looked up at the ceiling. "There must have been a hundred men - NICE men ... POLITE men ... HANDSOME men - who have begged me to go out with them, who offered me a NORMAL life, a RESPECTABLE life ..." 

She muttered that last part and trailed off. Then she fastened those diamond eyes right back on me. 

"But OH NO, I have to be in love with ... YOU!" She sounded thoroughly disgusted. 

"You LOVE me?!" I said like some kind of puppet. 

"I've always loved you, you idiot!" she said, exasperation leaking into her voice. 

"But I've always loved YOU!" I blurted. 

"Oh really?" She said that much too sweetly. 

"I mean I didn't know it then, but I realized it a few minutes ago and ... you LOVE ME?" It was finally sinking in that my life might not actually be over. 

Miss Simms came over to me and stood inches away from me ... blocking my escape, I might add. 

"Kiss me," she said. She said it just like she'd said it at the Creek, so many years ago. 

"Are you sure?" I asked. I was still reeling. A little kernel of pure, unadulterated joy had sparked to life deep in my gut and threatened to explode into violent, raging flames that no fire department on earth could even hope to make a dent in. 

"Do I have to call Horace back in here?" she asked with that too sweet voice. 

I kissed her. 

She kissed me back. And she MEANT it! 

Then she pushed me away. "Something made me wait for you. Donna told me to wait for you. They ALL told me to wait for you. I thought they were insane. I just KNEW I was just as much a fool as you are, that you'd never come back. And here you are, like a bad penny ... like a rock in my shoe that I can't find and get rid of." 

Then she kissed me again. 

You know that fantasy every boy has to take the gorgeous teacher on her own desk? 

Well, it wasn't quite like that. 

Remember how I told you she reacted well to the cave man routine? It must have seeped into her bones or something. Actually, she took ME on her own desk. I really wish I could remember that whole ... um ... incident ... better. I have a dim memory of being shoved here and there, and of my clothes flying off into corners, and growling. I do remember big, pink nippled breasts, that I know I put my mouth all over and the complete lack of hair where I expected there to be some, and of clasping tight pussy hugging my outrageously stiff prick. I remember a few words, chief among them "Oh Bobby I've waited so long for this ... why did you make me wait so long?" 

There is one other thing I remember with crystal clarity about what happened in Miss Simms' office that afternoon. I remember her hand sweeping those damned papers she had been so interested in off the desk. They fluttered everywhere, like snow as they settled to the floor. I remember the immense satisfaction of feeling that I was more important than those papers after all. 

But the rest is a blur that was eaten almost completely by those raging flames of joy that consumed me that afternoon in Miss Simms' office at Junktown High. 

Oh, sure, I've relived that scene countless times since then - not in the office, of course. And each time, whether it's in our marriage bed, in that little house on Washington Street, or in the three houses we moved into after that as her flat, well-muscled belly grew with child after child, that joy consumed me over and over again as I shared something precious and irreplaceable that I'd almost missed out on. 

The whole posse was in the wedding, of course. And, of course, Claire was the Maid of Honor. Who else, right? We didn't get to take much of a honeymoon. The wedding took place right in the middle of volleyball season and I found out I wasn't the only thing important to my new wife. I complained about it a little bit that first night we stayed in a cozy bed and breakfast place up in the mountains. We only had three days planned there, with a little skiing, thrown in between really strenuous activities in bed. I had just tried to actually fertilize my wife's egg for probably the fourth time in the ten hours we'd been there and complained that I needed more time than just three days to ensure success. 

"Nonsense" she said happily, panting slightly as she sat on top of me. She said she liked that position most, since that was the first way she'd felt my prick firing off in her. "We have the rest of our lives to make babies." 

She ground her clit against my pubic bone, working up to another orgasm. She'd had ten or twelve to my four. It just wasn't fair. Women have such an advantage over men. 

"Besides, I have other interests than just you, you know," she said, making it clear with her motions that the only thing she was concentrating on at that particular moment was ... me. "I can't spend ALL my time in bed with you." She rocked her way through another orgasm and then slowed down just a little, still rubbing. "We need to talk about the girls," she said. 

I wasn't sure I was ready for this conversation. During the two weeks it had taken to arrange a wedding, every time I brought up the other women in the posse and tried to apologize for my mink-like behavior, all she ever said was "I don't want to talk about it. We'll discuss that after we're married." 

And ... after that wild time in her office, she wouldn't let me near her naked ... until after the wedding. Neither would any of the other women, not that I tried or anything. They just made it clear that my attentions were no longer welcome. 

"What's to talk about?" I asked in my most subservient husbandly voice. 

"You need to save a little for the others. They still want me to share, you know." 

"Beg your pardon?" I gasped as her pussy started milking me again. 

"They saved you for me," she said, rocking harder. "They all wanted you, but they saved you for me," she panted. "So it's only right that I share a little ... every once in a while ... you know." 

I didn't know. I didn't even suspect. I tried to concentrate, but it was getting harder and harder ... no pun intended. 

"You'd let me? With them?" I gasped. 

"We've shared you this long" she grunted, her pussy going into overdrive. "What could a few more years matter? They'll get tired of you sooner or later. You're VERY exasperating, you know." She had ANOTHER orgasm. When that one wound down she lay down on top of me and just squeezed the spunk right out of me. 

As I tried for the FIFTH time to make a baby in my wonderful, beautiful, loving Knobby Robby she whispered in my ear. 

"And you're WAY too much man for me to handle alone." 

So ... there you have it. Fifteen years later I have eight children that I KNOW are mine - five with Robby, two with Claire and one with Monique. Shirley won't admit her son is mine, but his baby pictures look like she stole them from my mother's picture albums. 

Donna had another baby nine months after the honeymoon. After I got back to work I found out she'd been waiting to see if I proposed to Roberta before she decided to grace me with her pussy again. She was the one who asked Robby to share after the honeymoon. She insists she made love to her husband as often as she made love to me after that. 

Marge is the only one who hasn't popped a baby since I got out of the Navy and that doesn't seem to be from lack of trying. Claire actually had the gall to ask me why I wasn't trying hard enough to get Marge pregnant! 

And me? Well, I lost the ten pounds Monique's dinners put on me, and ten more to boot. I got a little more rest when everybody turned up gravid with child, though after the babies were born everybody seemed to want to be pregnant again. Knowing what women go through to have a child I just don't understand that. 

But, Robby told me last night that at least three of them have told her that they won't be needing my services much longer. 

I sure wish she'd tell me which three, though. 
So, what are the things I learned along the way to becoming a cocksman? 

Well, I learned that most women, despite all their primping and all that, don't REALLY think they're attractive, or at least they believe that some part of them is patently UN-attractive. Because of that they really love being convinced that they are, in fact, attractive and sexy. 

I learned that you can almost always find something about a woman to appreciate and compliment. They don't want lies. They want you to honestly like something about them. And it's not always something about their body! 

I learned that if you find a way to honestly care about a woman, she can tell, and she'll appreciate that more than almost anything else you do. 

I learned that women want to be in charge sometimes, and that sometimes they want you to be in charge. Wisdom is being able to tell the difference and adapt. 

I learned that women are just like men, in that they have fears, and hopes, and dreams. I learned that, if you play honestly to the hopes and dreams, and downplay the fears, it will, more often than not, get you laid, laid often, and laid well. 

I learned that if you take care of a woman's sexual needs first, and then worry about your own, she will do almost anything to help you handle those needs. 

And, finally, I learned that being a cocksman isn't all velvety pussy walls wrapped around your spurting cock. It takes a lot of work and patience and even some self sacrifice. When it comes to being a cocksman, the old adage is truer than ever: What goes around ... comes around. 

And, when you've learned all that ... I think that's what actually MAKES you a cocksman. 
The End 


