My First Time

By (various)Society & Culture Philosophy Sexuality

My First Time episodes

December 15, 2025 A Writer's Cabin: Part 2
A Writer's Cabin: Part 2.
A permanent change of location, and state of mind.
Based on a post by PickFiction.
Listen to the Podcast at Steamy
Stories.

I opened the door and stepped inside, announced by a
jingling bell.
"Dale, good morning," Brooke said, standing and
extending her hand.
Clad in tight black slacks, a red blouse, her dark hair held
in place by a large gold clasp, and shoes with moderate heels, I was reminded
that she was an attractive lady. And that didn't include the unforgettable pale
blue eyes.
"Good to see you, Brooke. I'm ready to sign
whatever."
"I have the papers ready." She spread some papers
across her desk.
"And I'm ready to pay, also."
"You won't have to do that until the closing."
I handed her the check.
"Dale, this is for $225,000."
"That should cover everything, shouldn't it?"
"I'm sure, but you should pay at closing."
"I'd rather just give it to you, and it will be here
when it's needed."
"Dale, I can't take it. I mean."
"Brooke," I interrupted, "if I can trust you
to drive my Porsche, I can trust you with my $225,000."
For five seconds, she just looked at me, then the laughter
began, and she had to sit down. At last, she took a deep breath and looked at
me again.
"Where did you come from?" she asked. 'And don't
you dare say, New York."
"All I can say is that visiting here and meeting the
people, particularly you, is so much different than New York; that it's
changing my behavior."
"It's probably illegal or unethical, but drive me to
the bank so I can deposit it. We'll sign when we get back."
We did exactly that: the teller at the bank calling for her
manager. I suggested they contact the bank in New York for verification. While
the manager took care of that, Brooke and the teller chatted. I watched the
teller lean forward and whisper to Brooke, who then looked at me.
I stepped toward them. "Autographed copies if you don't
tell anyone."
"Really? Okay, I won't."
Her nameplate told me she was Sally, and I'd try to remember
that.
"All confirmed," the manager said, "Go ahead
and process it, Sally."
"Largest check I've ever processed," Sally said,
and we headed back to the office.
"Maybe you can drive this thing after we do the
signing."
"I think I have things to do, Dale," she answered
with a chuckle.
"I've got some book signing to take care of."
"Listen, I nearly forgot. The man who's selling the
cabin has moved to Oregon and told me that if I felt sure of the sale, the
buyer could move right in."
"Oh my gosh, I'm ready." I began to plan as she
drove. I'd leave the car here, fly to New York, rent a truck, and drive back to
the cabin. I'd need some help. I wondered.
"You're quiet."
"Thinking, and I need help."
"Go on."
"Are there Ubers out here?"
"Not unless they come from the city. Where do you need
to go?"
"The airport; so I can fly to New York, rent a truck,
and drive my things back here."
"And take the truck to the city to return it."
I nodded.
"Dale, you know I'd be more than happy to take care of
that."
What a beautiful smile accompanied her offer.
"Eyes on the road, please, and you're way too
kind." I assured her.
"Well, you're a very interesting man, and I'm enjoying
being around you."
"Wow, and very honestly, I'm enjoying being around you
as well. I'm learning things that are very foreign to me and will become a part
of my writing; and my life." We'd pulled into the small lot, and there was
that smile again with the sparkling pale blue eyes. Brooke was a very
attractive lady.
"Before I sign anything, let's go for a drive."
"Dale, that frightens me. I don't know."
If you ruin the car, I'll buy a new one and we'll try
again."
That certainly widened her eyes. "I'm not sure I
totally understand you, Dale."
"No problem. Perhaps I enjoy being a little
mysterious."
"Well, you certainly have surprised me a few
times." She admitted.
"Come on. You can just drive the car a couple of blocks
as a starter."
Obviously reluctant, she followed me to the Porsche and
climbed into the driver s seat.
"I m so close to the ground," she said with a
giggle.
I showed her how to adjust the seat and the mirrors.
"I'm only going a couple of blocks. We don't need to
change everything."
I discovered she had driven a standard shift when she'd
first learned to drive at sixteen. It was a pickup truck with a column shift
lever, but at least she'd used a clutch before. As we pulled away from the parking
spot and she pressed on the accelerator, we shot forward, then slammed to a
stop.
"Dale," she pleaded.
"I'm not going to learn to play the piano after one
lesson, rebutted her implied argument. and you'll need to learn about the
Porsche as well. Just keep going."
We completed the two-block circuit, and I don't think I've
ever seen such a relieved look on a face.
"I'd say that was a good job. Now, let s go sign some
papers."
She smiled, and I could tell that, in her own way, she had
enjoyed driving the Porsche, possibly just from the sense of accomplishment.
I signed everything, thanked Brooke again for all her help,
and then returned to the motel to make lots of arrangements. When they were
taken care of, I made another call.
"Well, it's about time you called." Katherine s
New York rudeness now was even more obvious when I was in rural Ohio.
"You could have called me." I matched her
pushiness.
"I was being polite and not disturbing what you're
doing wherever you are." She congratulated her own virtue.
"You're a saint, Katherine, an absolute saint. Did you
get the two chapters taken care of?"
"I did. Your editor loved them and only changed a
couple of words. How have you beguiled her to go along with whatever you
write?"
I used Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen from Louisiana."
"I thought she was long dead. Katherine bantered back
at me.
"Obviously not, if she's working for me."
"So, why did you call?"
"Just to let you know that I will be in town tomorrow
to rent a truck and use it the following day as a receptacle for my New York
life, which will be transported to Ohio to my new residence."
"So, you're really doing that?"
"It's done. I've purchased a place, and will send you
the new address."
"How can you stand that, after living in New
York?"
"How could I have stood New York, knowing what I know
now."
"Maybe Marie Laveau has cast a spell on you." The
witty agent didn t miss a beat.
I almost said, not Marie, but Brooke, but held my tongue.
"Of course, I wish you good luck and hope this doesn't
disrupt your writing."
"On the contrary, I think it will help my
writing."
"Send me the address."
We signed off, and I called Brooke.
"What's the latest?"
"My plane leaves at ten, so I'd like to be there by
eight-thirty. What time should I be ready?"
"I'll pick you up at seven-forty-five."
"You're a jewel, Brooke."
"You're very sweet. See you in the morning." She
said, then hung up.
As expected, Brooke was there right on time, and the trip to
the airport was straightforward and uneventful. She cautioned me several times
to drive carefully on the way back since my Porsche and the truck I'd be
renting had absolutely nothing in common. I assured her that I would.
At the airport, she got out of the car and walked around to
where I was standing. She extended her arms, and I stepped into them and
received a warm and very enjoyable squeeze.
"Hurry back, Mister," she said.
"I checked, and the driving time from New York to here
is about eight and a half hours. With stops, probably over nine hours. I plan
to have everything ready when I pick up the truck, so hopefully, I'll get
started home by ten in the morning. That should get me home at seven or eight."
"Here's the key to the cabin. Give me a call when you
want to turn in the truck, and I'll follow you there."
"Brooke, you don't have to do all that." I was beginning
to feel guilty about all that she was doing.
"Brooke Rowe Real Estate provides full service,"
she said with a chuckle. "Now, one more hug, and get on your way."
We hugged again, and I thanked her for everything. I was
traveling light, no bag; and checking in and boarding was simple.
The flight was an hour long, and I called an Uber to take me
to my apartment. The boxes I'd ordered had been delivered to the lobby of the
building, and I carried them upstairs, put them together, and packed them. I wasn't
a clothing hog, so that part was simple. The pictures and knick-knacks were
easy as well, and soon, everything was ready. I checked with the truck rental,
and they were ready for me.
I decided to head to Zǐh o's for dinner and a farewell.
"Mr. Dale. Have not seen you for a while."
"I know, Zǐh o. I've been in Ohio."
"Oh, far out west."
"It's a ways, but I'm moving there."
"Moving? No more eating at Zǐh o's?" He said
with a sober face.
"I'm afraid not. And I'll miss it for sure."
"Tonight, my treat. Order what you want." He said
with resolute duty.
"Shrimp fried rice will be perfect. I love it."
The fried rice was perfect, and I knew I'd miss it in Ohio.
The food at the diner in Caraway was very different but equally good. I
wondered if I'd miss the variety that I was used to in New York. Time would
tell.
We bid each other farewell, and I promised Zǐh o that
I'd be sure to come to see him when I was in New York in the future.
Picking up the truck went much as I'd learned to expect
things in New York to go.
"What do you mean you can't find my reservation? I
called yesterday to check, and they said everything was in order."
"Ain't my problem, Mister. There ain't a reservation
here for Dale Scholtz."
"You've got to have it. Check again."
He checked with the same result.

"I checked yesterday. D a l e S c h u l t z:"
"Wait. I thought you said your name was
S-c-h-o-l-t-z."
"I think that may have been what you thought you heard,
but that's incorrect."
He glared at me but checked again.
"Yeah, here it is." He slapped a paper down on the
counter. "Sign here, here, and here." The pen was slapped down
equally hard.
"Take this out to the booth. They'll show you the
truck." He stomped back to his desk.
I received a few instructions at the booth, drove to the
apartment, and loaded the truck. It was a small truck, like an SUV, so it
wasn't quite like driving a forty-foot truck. I maneuvered my way out of New
York fairly quickly, letting the built-in GPS guide me. Soon, I was on the road
and headed to Ohio.
I'd been driving for nearly an hour when I realized I was
wishing that Brooke was sitting next to me and talking with me as I drove. That
was certainly something new. She seemed really nice and willing to help me get
established. I'd even commented on it before I left, and she indicated she was
perfectly happy doing it. How happy was she?
And then there'd been the hugs yesterday. Two of them. I
smiled as I realized how much I'd enjoyed those hugs. Was something about me
changing? I'd gone twenty-seven years without women cluttering my life, but
this one seemed different. Was it just the Caraway difference I'd been experiencing,
or was there more?
She was enjoyable to look at with those fascinating blue
eyes contrasting with her very dark hair and slightly dark complexion. She'd
never really said anything that indicated that she liked me or wanted to be
with me, except that she was often with me. Uh.
What would I do when I was back in Ohio? Maybe just wait
for her to be more definite? If I was writing this as a story, how would I do
it? I wrote about romance, so why didn't I know more about real life? Maybe it
was because I controlled the writing, and I wasn't sure I was in control now.
I arrived at the cabin at about eight, as expected, and was
inside the after unloading the first box when I received a text.
Are you at the cabin yet?
Just got here and beginning to unload.
Would you like some help?
What did that mean? Did she really want to help? Was it just
Brooke Rowe Real Estate completing their full service? I stopped and took a
deep breath.
Dale, I asked myself. Are you overanalyzing? Would you
like to have Brooke here?
Answer, "Yes, I would. If it's not an inconvenience
for you, I'd love to have some help.
Good. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.
More analysis. She'd said, "Good." That seemed to
mean that she was happy that I needed some help. A subtle hint, perhaps, but I
was going to take it at face value and see what developed. In fact, I stopped
unloading, leaving more for us to do together when she arrived.
Brooke swept through the front door with a big smile.
"That's not a very big truck, not at all what I was picturing."
"I didn't move any furniture, just clothing, books, and
miscellaneous stuff. But it all needs to be unloaded."
"Let's get going then."
It wasn't difficult with me taking the heavier boxes and
Brooke the lighter ones. By nine-thirty, we were finished.
Thank you so much, Brooke. I appreciate the help, and I
appreciate you."
Her eyes jerked to mine. "Well, I enjoy being with you
too. Are you planning to sleep here tonight? We need to make a bed if you
are."
"Well, I don't want to sleep here until I'm completely
moved, and as long as I have the truck, it isn't complete. Tomorrow, I'll have
the grand moving in, even though, officially, I don't own it yet."
"That will be nice." There was a definite
questioning look on her face.
"Lots of things need to be done, and I could use more
help deciding where to hang things, what things to add, and what furniture to
replace."
"The lady that owns the furniture store in town is a
pretty good decorator, too. She could probably help you."
I smiled. "I think I'd rather have Brooke Rowe Real
Estate complete their full service by helping me."
A wonderful smile shone on Brooke's face. "Good. She'd
love to do it." Brooke confirmed in 3rd person.
"What's open where we can get something to eat?" I
was hungry.
"Not much, except Brooke Rowe Real Estate's
full-service kitchen."
I shook my head. "Brooke, that's too much."
She looked sad. "Are you rejecting Brooke's offer to
feed you?"
I realized I couldn't reject any offer from Brooke.
"Never," I replied, "but I owe you big time."
"I'll have to come up with a way for you to pay this off,
then." That comment came with a different kind of smile to her face.
I followed the Cadillac to a pleasant one-story house on the
very edge of town. She pulled into the garage, and I parked on the driveway.
"I hope you like cheese," Brooke said as she
prepared the grilled cheese sandwiches.
"Are you putting three kinds of cheese on each
sandwich?"
"Sure. Isn't that the way you're supposed to do
it," she added with a giggle.
"You're the expert," I said, anticipating what
this might be like.
"And I'm using cinnamon butter on the bread, too."
"Brooke, where'd you learn this stuff?"
"I like to experiment."
I enjoy good food, and I wanted to know what other
experiments she might have on hand.
"Here ya go. Lemme know."
I waited a few seconds to let it cool, having burned my
mouth more than once on hot cheese. I loved her anticipatory look.
I took the first bite. "Oh my gosh, what a surprise.
I've never had a grilled cheese like this before, and anytime you're serving,
I'll be here to eat them."
"Really?"
"If you let me know, I promise to come and praise your
culinary expertise."
"Aw, you're sweet. I have other recipes you might
like."
"Could you prepare them at the cabin? I can picture us
sitting on the screened-in porch eating a delicious and unique dinner."
"Me, too, Dale. I'd love to do that." Her flirting
was as overt as my own.
"Just send me a list of what you need, and I'll have it
ready for you."
She nodded. "Okay."
We finished the sandwiches and set nine in the morning for
her to meet me at the motel and follow me to where I'd be turning in the truck.
I locked up and we headed off, me to the motel and Brooke to her house.
I climbed into bed smiling. The sandwich had been excellent,
and Brooke inviting me to her house even better. I'd found it difficult to
leave her, and I sensed she was feeling the same. I was a sensitive writer, or
so I'd been called by the critics, and I should be able to understand people.
When I looked myself straight in the eye, I realized that I had been fully
understanding Brooke but refusing to accept it. Tomorrow, maybe I could
straighten things out.
I was sitting in the truck, waved to her when she arrived
and headed to the address I'd been given. It was accurate, and the turning-in
process was much more straightforward than the picking-up process had been.
Just the difference between New York and Caraway I guessed.
I climbed into the Cadillac. "Thanks again for being so
helpful."
"You don't need to keep saying that, Dale. I know
you're thankful, and by now, we're good friends and do things for each
other."
"I don't know. It'll be difficult, but I'll try. I m
not use to kindness, living in New York. I just want to let you know how much
it means to me.
"Do you have lots of ideas for decorating the
cottage?"
"Not really. I'm going to have you decorate it just the
way you'd like to have it."
"But you might not like some of the things I'd do."
"I doubt it."
"Dale, are you sure? I don't want to spend money on
something you won't like."
"Well, if you decorate it just the way you like, then
you won't have to change anything when it's yours and my cabin."
She hit the brakes hard and pulled onto the berm.
"What did you just say?"
"What did you just hear?"
"What I've been wanting to hear for several days."
"I think you heard correctly, then."
"Are you saying ...?"
"I'm saying that I missed you more than I'd imagined I
could while I was away for only two days. I wanted you in the seat beside me
while I drove. I pictured that over and over."
"I missed you so much and prayed over and over that
you'd be safe."
I took hold of her hand and pulled her toward me. "I
missed those blue eyes looking at me."
"Kiss me."
I did, and she kissed me back. I was amazed at the feelings
that were racing through my body.
"I've been so afraid."
"Of what? Surely not of me?" I asked, surprised at
what she'd said.
"Of myself and the way I was feeling about you."
"But we've gotten along so well."
"I know, but you're a famous author from New York, and
I'm just a small-town real estate agent.
40 min
December 13, 2025 A Writer's Cabin: Part 1
A Writer's Cabin: Part 1.
Retreating to an isolated cabin, a famous author finds love.
Based on a post by PickFiction.
Listen to the Podcast at Steamy
Stories.

"Dale, nice of you to drop in." Katherine's
sardonic smile told me how she really felt.
"I have an appointment."
"That hasn't always mattered in the past." I'd
missed one appointment in nearly a year, but Katherine loved to jab me with the
nits she picked.
"I suppose. You make bundles off me, though", I
retorted.
"So, that gives you the right to ignore appointments
and not even have the common courtesy to let me know."
I'd left my cell phone at a restaurant. "Listen, if you
want to drop me from your list of clients, we can work that out. You're getting
to be a pain in the ass to deal with, Katherine. Plus, this office of yours on
the forty-fourth floor is a pain. I get an upset stomach riding the
elevator." Being from New York and hating elevators did not meld well, but
somehow, I'd survived.
"My poor delicate author. Perhaps you should try the
stairs."
"Perhaps we should try some Zoom appointments." I
wondered why Katherine and I could never have a friction-free meeting. Maybe it
was our signs. I'm a Libra and I'd learned earlier that she was an Aries.
Silly, perhaps, but there was definitely something. I think we rather enjoyed
skirmishing with each other.
"Bars are kind of noisy for Zoom calls." She
objected.
"You don't know me at all, Katherine. I don't drink in
public -- oh, maybe a glass of wine at those idiotic things you schedule for
me."
"Those idiotic things sell your books."
I hated to admit that I needed to sell books. I wrote
because I loved it and seemed to have a certain talent for it. But I also
needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Therefore, I needed to sell
books, and Katherine was here to help me do just that. And, I had to admit that
she'd done a decent job. My bank account assured me of that.
"I suppose you're right." I relented.
"Let me mark this on my calendar. Dale Schultz agreed
with something I said." She scribbled something on her desk calendar.
"So why exactly did I have to ride the supersonic
elevator to see you today."
"I thought I told you that."
"You sent me an email that basically said, be there or
be square."
"I'm surprised you'd let a clich like that escape your
lips." She teased.
"Talking isn't writing. And some people like
clich s."
"On another subject, four chapters of the new book are
due today."
"They're only due because you arbitrarily decide
they're due. Sometimes fictional writing isn't done on a schedule."
"I thought a brilliant author like yourself could just
snap your fingers and magnificently amazing stories appeared on the computer
screen."
"Having never done it, I would expect you to think
that."
"What, that you're a brilliant author?"
"You have three of the chapters on the flash drive, and
the fourth is nearly complete. What's the rush?"
We want to get it published before the Christmas buying
season. People still like to purchase hard copies of books by famous
authors."
I was a moderately famous author, even though I didn't often
admit it to myself. It made selling books relatively simple, which I enjoyed.
But it made the public appearances and book signings that Katherine arranged;
the bane of my existence. I was not a public person, and traveling all
over the country was not enjoyable, and something needed to be done about it. I
wasn't sure what, just yet.
"I suppose you're right. Put another note on your
calendar there, for the mental slip of mine."
"What?" She perked up.
"I said, bane of my existence, another horrible
clich .
Katherine shrugged, but didn't make a note on her desk
calendar.
"Also, I have a check for you since you won't simplify
things by allowing direct deposits to your bank account."
"I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I hear about bad things
happening from that."
"Well, here's your preliminary check for the new
book."
I glanced at it long enough to see $100,000 on the amount
line. That would hold me for a while. This would be my fifth book, and the
first four had been nicely successful, so my bank account was well-stocked at
the present time, far beyond anything I'd imagined when I began writing. I
folded the check and stuck it in my pocket.
"And we need to review the schedule of personal
appearances and book signings I've set up for you."
It was only March, and we were shooting for a September
publish date. I couldn't sign books until they were published. Maybe I could
get COVID 19, or something and avoid all of that. Katherine had twelve events
lined up, some of which would get national attention and some that were small,
local events. I had insisted on the latter. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania
before we moved to New York, and we Pennsylvanians had always seemed to be
bypassed by everything big or important that happened. I wanted people in those
types of places to have access to signed copies of my books if they wanted
them.
"Those don't begin until October, so please don't
forget about them. I'll send emails to remind you."
"I think your emails go directly to my spam folder.
I'll have to check." I said in a deadpan delivery.
"You're impossible. If I didn't make gobs of money from
you, I'd dump you in a nanosecond."
"Same here, you know."
We bid each other goodbye, and I left her office. Walking
down the hall toward the elevator, I wondered what it might be like to descend
forty-four flights of stairs. I was getting hungry and decided I needed plenty
of nourishment before I attempted that, so I stopped at the elevator, as
always. We made several stops on the way down, which seemed to decrease our
peak velocity, and my stomach survived. I wondered if I could find an agent
whose office was on the ground floor. Probably not.
Zǐh o W ng's Chinese Restaurant.
It was an unusually warm March day, so I walked to Zǐh o
W ng's Chinese Restaurant rather than using a taxi or an Uber. Since I ate
there often, Mr. W ng wasn't surprised to see me.
"Some shrimp chow mein for famous author?" were
his words of greeting. That was my favorite of the restaurant's offerings, although
their menu covered three pages.
"That sounds good, Zǐh o, but keep the shrimp and
change the other to fried rice."
"Hot tea and wonton soup?" He offered.
It was lunchtime, but I could make it my dinner.
"Of course," I answered, nodding to him and receiving
his nod in return.
I checked my phone and had several text messages. I'd
changed my number several times, but somehow, people discovered what it was and
would send me unwanted texts. They weren't spam or scams, just people talking
about my writing. I read several of them since I had nothing else to do, but I
stashed the phone when the wonton soup arrived. Mr. W ng served me personally
and sat down as he usually did.
"How is wonton soup today? Breaking in new cook and
would like opinion."
"Zǐh o, your wonton is always excellent, and this
is no different. Some wonton is more water than anything else, but yours is
solid and nourishing."
"Will inform new cook. Will Mr. Dale be wanting take
home today?"
"Your food and my microwave seem to get along well, so
perhaps the shrimp chow mein would be good."
"Will have, when finish. You good customer, Mr.
Dale."
"That's because you're a good cook. I didn't have much
Chinese until I came to New York, but I'm glad my parents found your
restaurant. And," I said, winking at him, "I've included it in my new
book. Characters in the book will be eating here."
"Mr. Dale, many thanks. For kindness, today is on
me."
I bowed my head to him. "The many thanks is for you, Zǐh o.
But I insist on paying."
I knew from experience that when people saw the name of the
restaurant in the book, they'd come here to eat, and Zǐh o would be very
busy. It made me happy to be able to do that for him, as he always took very
good care of me. I saw someone from the kitchen headed for my table.
Zǐh o took the sack and handed it to me. "Chow
mein for dinner," he said with a smile.
"Tell me something, Zǐh o. Do you like New York,
the big city?"
"I born in Foshan in China and live there till I come
here. I think population there is nine million. So, I used to big city. Is
important to me as I feel strange when not in big city. You from big city too,
Mr. Dale?"
"No, no, I'm not. I come from a small town, and I feel
out of place somehow."
"But you famous author. Is important to be in big city
for you, isn't it."
I chuckled. "It's easier sometimes, and I suppose
important for some things, but it's also annoying most of the time."
"Have friends in China who say same thing about
Foshan."
"It's what you get used to, I guess." I grumbled.
"New York big, but not Foshan."
"I think I know what you mean, Zǐh o.
I paid him for both meals and included a nice tip, which I
knew he'd divide among his servers.
I left Zǐh o's and walked back to my apartment, which
was on the fourth floor and not the forty-forth. I let my mind wander, trying
to concentrate on creating a new chapter for the book. But it was difficult
with loud diesel buses, emergency sirens, and just the noise and bustle of a
big city.
I rode the slow-motion elevator to the fourth floor.
Although I could certainly have afforded a nicer place, I was content with the
one-bedroom cubby which I inhabited. As I was approaching my door, I heard
someone calling to me.
"Hey, Dale. How's it going, neighbor?"
"Hey, Zach. Not too bad for a March day, and after a
trip to the forty-fourth floor."
"Uh-oh, that again. How's your stomach?" he asked
with a little laugh.
"We made lots of stops, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped
at Zǐh o's and had some fried rice and brought some chow mein home."
I held up the bag with the familiar emblem on the side.
"We need to go there. It's been a while, and Talia
loves Cashew Chicken."

"That's good stuff. I have it every once in a
while."
"Got the book finished?"
"Nearly. A couple more chapters."
"I'm sure you'll be relieved, and the money will be
rolling in."
"I suppose. I'm just anxious to get started on the next
book."
"Dale, you need to slow down and enjoy the fruits of
your labor, whatever they might be. I know that money isn't the big motivation
for you, but still, savor all that adulation you receive."
I laughed. "All of that adulation is a pain in the ass,
and I could do without it. Book signings and being on The Morning Mirror. And
all of that other good stuff, i.e. crap."
I always sensed that it was good stuff, in its own way, but
not particularly for me. It was awkward, and the questions they asked were
always frivolous and not something that I particularly cared about. I enjoyed
sometimes talking about the process of creating and then writing a story, but
I'd been told that most listeners found that boring after about thirty seconds
of it. They wanted sensational things, like who I was currently sleeping with
or what woman I was chasing, things like that. Most of my time on the show
seemed to be spent denying rumors as no one seemed to believe that I was a
boring guy, content to eat, sleep, and write my books.
'I feel very awkward on that show and others that have had
me. People think that if you're famous, you should fit into a particular mold,
and I don't."
"I can see that about you for sure."
"But, what the heck are you doing home, Zach? Shouldn't
you be working?"
"Yeah, but Talia was sick this morning, and she needed
help getting to the doctor, so I took a day of vacation."
"Aw, I'm sorry about that. How's she doing?"
"Much better. The doc said it was probably something
she ate, so It's not contagious, thank goodness."
"May I stick my head in to wish her well."
"Let me make sure she's decent." He disappeared
for a moment. "Come on in, Dale."
"Hey, Talia, how are you feeling?"
"Better, but that doesn't mean good."
"Aw, sorry."
"I should be okay tomorrow."
I thought she looked pale enough that tomorrow might not do
it."
"So, are you still thinking about what we talked about
the other day?" Zack gestured for me to have a seat.
I plopped into a lounger. It had been in and out of my mind
all day, from my time with Katherine through my lunch with Zǐh o, to now.
"I have, but it's a tough decision."
"Talia and I would hate to lose a good neighbor, but
don't let that influence you." Zack looked at the ceiling as he spoke,
unsuccessfully stifling a smile.
"I'd hate that too, but that's only one issue. I could
go back to Pennsylvania, but for some reason, I'm hesitant to do that."
"Lots of big hills in P A, but I'm from Ohio, and the
climate is similar, but more variation in the topography."
"I like hills, but big hills and snow don't always mix
well."
"Take a look at Ohio. And take a look at Caraway Hills
in the south-central area. Kind of an older area with rolling hills and lots of
nice cabins and cottages."
"Listen, thanks for the information. I've got some work
to do, so I'll leave you two alone. Talia, get well, please."
"Thanks, Dale. I hope so," Talia said, rather
weakly, I thought.
In my room, I sat at my writing desk, opened my laptop, and
searched for Caraway Hills, Ohio. I found two real estate companies that had
listings there and saw some very nice cottages, cabins, and luxury homes. I
chuckled at the luxury homes. What I had in mind was something like my New York
apartment, something simple but adequate.
I didn't want a fixer-upper since I wasn't very handy. I
could paint and probably drive a nail, but hanging things on the wall might be
a challenge. I was certain there would be videos on the internet to help if I
needed them.
As I paged through the cabins, carefully checking details, I
knew that I had made my decision without realizing it. I was going to move to
Ohio, much to Katherine's chagrin, I was sure. I needed to finish the last two
chapters and get the process started.
"You made quick work of those last two chapters,"
Katherine said, peering at me over the top of her glasses. "I hope they
measure up to the rest of the book."
"I'm sure you can touch them up if they don't."
"I'm your agent, not your editor."
"I must have forgotten. Sorry."
"Yeah, right. Do you have an outline for your next book
yet?"
"This one isn't even published yet."
"And speaking of that, I'll email your appearance
schedule so you can finalize your plans. "
"Speaking of plans, I've already finalized one."
That got her attention. "Oh?"
"Yes. I'm moving to Ohio." I said it as
matter-of-factly as I could.
"Like that's going to happen," she replied with a
laugh.
I didn't respond.
Katherine looked up from her computer. "You are teasing
me, aren't you?"
"Nope, I made the decision two days ago. We'll soon be
Zooming."
"Dale, why would you do a silly thing like that? It
makes no sense."
"To you, perhaps."
"To anyone with common sense."
"That leaves me out then, I guess."
"Dale, I'm sensing that you're serious about this. Is
there no way to talk you out of it?"
"Don't even try. I'll be off to Ohio next week to find
a place to live. And it won't be on the forty-fourth floor, or even the fourth
floor."
I ended my time with Katherine and made what I hoped would
be my final descent on that miserable elevator. I'd never gotten a chance to
try the stairs.
The Ohio Valley.
The drive to Ohio was smooth and uneventful but was over
five hundred miles and took nine-plus hours. I'd booked a motel room near
Caraway Hills, actually on the edge of Caraway, a small town near the Hills. I
checked in and then went out and grabbed some dinner at a quaint mom-and-pop
diner. The food was delicious, and I think I had a smile on my face the entire
time I was there. Back at the motel, I made some notes regarding a possible new
story and then went to sleep.
The following morning, I was ready to go and anxious as
well. I'd called ahead to the realty company and talked with Brooke Row, the
owner, who said she'd be ready to show me several possibilities. I stopped at
the diner for breakfast, and was taken in again by the good home cooking.
I made it to the Realty company at nine and was greeted by
Brooke. I'd never spent much time around women as they tended to distract me
from my writing. When I came through the door, a quick glance told me that she
was attractive. When she looked at me, I nearly froze. Her dark hair contrasted
sharply with her very pale blue eyes. She was the living personification of one
of the favorite characters I had created. Not a very pleasant character,
unfortunately, but one I enjoyed writing about. I decided not to mention it, as
I wasn't anxious for people to know I was a writer.
"Mr. Schultz, it's so good to meet you after our
messaging. And please call me Brooke."
"I'm just Dale, and I'm anxious to see what you've
picked out for me."
"Tell me again exactly what you're looking for."
"I'm really looking for something simple, maybe one
bedroom, a decent living area, and some space between me and the
neighbors."
"Actually, there aren't many one-bedroom places
available. I'm not sure what your occupation is, but a second bedroom could be
transformed into a very nice office."
"Good point. I probably could use an office." I
didn't volunteer what it would be used for, and she didn't ask.
"Okay, why don't I go with a two-bedroom, then? It
would cost a little more, but there are plenty of those available."
"Yeah, that's good. I'm not worried about a few more
dollars."
"How about amenities? Would you like a pool?"
"No, I don't need a pool for sure."
"Hot tub?"
That one made me think. I'd been in a few hot tubs, and they
were nice.
"It wouldn't be inside the house, would it?"
Brooke chuckled. "Oh no, it would be on the porch or
beside the cabin."
My turn to chuckle. Yeah, I guess all that steam inside the
cabin wouldn't be good."
She nodded but didn't reply.
"It sounds like you're looking for a fairly basic cabin.
Is that a fair description of what you're after?"
"I think so. I mean, I don't want peeling paint, or
floorboards that you can fall through."
"I get the picture, Mr., uh, Dale. What about
land?"
"I'd like for it to be on land." I kept as
straight a face as possible.
Her head snapped up from looking at her notebook. I had that
innocent look on my face.
"I'll make a note of that. Mr. Schultz does not want a
cabin-boat." I enjoyed that she was smiling.
Her easy manner told me we were going to get along fine searching
for a cabin.
"I don't want any close neighbors, so if that takes a
little more land, that's fine. I'm from New York City, and Central Park was the
only view of land that I had."
"Ah, that helps. Are you good at math and
visualization?"
"No, a
42 min
December 12, 2025 Love Endures War: Part 2
Love Endures War: Part 2
Tender love in a Wounded Seventies America.
Based on a post by want some fun 1951. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The five of us, Joey’s parents and mine; flew to
California to meet the ship that brought Joey home. We didn't get to see him at
the dock. He was whisked into an ambulance that we tried to follow in our
rental car.
At the hospital, his doctor took us to his office. Joey had
been shot and captured. His injuries weren't life-threatening, and they stopped
the bleeding at a Viet Cong field hospital. He was taken to a prison camp for
debriefing.
"We're all adults here, and I believe in telling the
truth, so I'll be blunt," the army doc said. "To the Viet Cong
running that camp, 'debriefing' meant torture until they decided if a prisoner
knew something useful, followed by long periods of confinement. Joey was a
rank-and-file infantryman, so he wasn't very useful to them, but they kept him
alive as a bargaining chip.
"American soldiers came to take the camp, and there was
a fire-fight. Our guys were prepared, and the Cong ran out of ammo. They
apparently tried to beat their captives to death when they knew the camp would
to be taken. Private Ramsey sustained a severe skull fracture. When he was liberated
from the camp, he was in a coma, nearly dead of starvation and exposure. He's
much better now. Recovering nicely. With hard work, he should make further
improvements. We're keeping him sedated, but you may see him for a minute
each."
I was allowed to go first. A nurse led me to a window that
looked into his room. I could hardly recognize him through the bandages on his
head. Tubes, wire, bottles, and bags were everywhere. He had a cast on one leg,
where surgeons had repaired the badly-healed fractures from his initial wound.
His other leg had scars from long-healed sores. Skinny arms extended from his
hospital gown, tubes in both of them between old cigarette burns. Always so big
and strong, my darling looked like he was half his old size. He had a tube down
his nose, and he was out cold.
We walked into his room. "Talk to him, honey," the
nurse said. "He's in deep sedation, but some patients say they remember
things when they wake up."
"Joey? Joey, it's Sue."
His chest rose and fell slowly.
"Joey? You're home now. Well, not home. You're in a
hospital in California. We came to visit, me, my folks and your parents."
"Time's almost up, honey," the nurse whispered.
"I love you, Joey," I said as I backed out of
room.
We stayed for a week, visiting him for a minute apiece each
morning, afternoon, and evening. The day before our flight home, the doctor met
us in the waiting room outside Intensive Care. "I have good news. Private
Ramsey is showing excellent improvement. He's doing well enough that we've lowered
his medication. He's in a "twilight" sleep now. He hasn't opened his
eyes or spoken, but I believe that's coming. We'll be able to make arrangements
to transfer him to a Veterans Administration hospital near your home
soon."
That day, it was Marge's turn to go in first. She spent her
full minute in his room holding his hand and crying. When Joe went in, he sat
close to his son's head, telling him he would be home soon. Then it was my
turn.
"He's asleep, Sue, but talk to him," Joe said when
I passed him in the doorway.
"Joey, it's me, Sue. I'll be with you a lot more soon,
when you're in a hospital near home. I've missed you so much, Joey." I
laid my hand on his outstretched one and held it, like I had every time we
visited.
This time, he made a noise.
"Nurse, he's talking!"
"He's been doing that ever since last night. He's
probably feeling some discomfort from his latest surgery now, so there's a
little moaning."
"Oh," Joey whispered. "Oh. Oh."
"What's that, honey? Are you in pain?" I asked.
"Oh. Oh. Ess." He worked his tongue around in his
mouth. " Saw, Sue."
"Yes, Joey, it's me. It's Sue!"
His hand twitched, like he was trying to squeeze mine the
way I was squeezing his. He whispered "Sue" again. Then he slept.
By the time he was transferred to the local VA hospital two
weeks later, Joey was awake a lot of the time. He didn't talk much, and when he
did, he seemed confused. The staff said rehabilitation would take a long time.
Because of his head injuries and the deplorable conditions in which he had been
imprisoned for so long, we should be prepared for only a partial recovery.
The first day I went to see him, he was propped up in bed,
asleep, but facing the TV. I pulled up a chair and sat next to his head.
"Joey, can you wake up?"
His eyes flickered for a moment, and when they opened, I saw
fear.
"It's me, Sue. I came to see you."
"Sue. Sue. Why am I here?"
"You were injured in the war. You were in a prison
camp, but now you're in the VA hospital near home."
"Oh. Why are you here?"
"I came to see you. Do you want me to go?"
"No. Stay. Don't leave me."
Every day after I was done with student teaching, I went to
the hospital to be with him. Every day, he was better, until one night about a
week before my birthday. He was agitated that evening.
"What's wrong, honey? You seem upset," I said.
"Your birthday is next week. I can't go buy you a
present," he said.
"That's okay. Getting you back is the best present in
the world."
"You don't understand. I can't go get you a present
because I can't walk. I haven't walked in years. That cage they kept me in was
too small to let me stand up, even if my leg had healed right. I went to
physical therapy today. My legs are so weak I can't stand on my own. How can I
ever get a job and go to a store to buy things for you if I'm like that?"
"It doesn't matter. You're alive, and you're with me
again. I don't need anything else."
"No. I'm no good to you now. I'm a broken-down wreck.
You need a man."
"I have a man."
"I'm not a man. I'm an invalid."
"You're a patient. You were shot. They tortured you and
kept you in a tiny bamboo cage for years. You were near death from starvation.
The bastards fractured your skull. It's going to take time for you to
recover."
"You shouldn't have waited for me. I don't know why
you're here. Why aren't you married and having babies?"
"I don't want to be married to anyone but you. I don't
want any babies but yours."
When visiting hours were over, I kissed him, like always.
Joey really kissed me back for the first time.
The next day, he was sitting in a chair. "I have to
pee," was the first thing he said.
"Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?"
"No, you can't do that."
"They tell me you can bear some weight on your good
leg. We can probably get you there."
"No, Sue, I can't let you do that. Find an
orderly."
"Joey, I'm strong enough if you'll help me."
"Don't you get it? I have to pee! I need someone to
help me onto the toilet. I can't let you do that," Joey protested.
"Now please, go find a man to help me."
I came back into the room with a burly orderly, but Joey was
adamant that I wait in the hallway while they took care of things. "I
can't hold onto him and the railing and still keep my gown closed. Please, Sue,
respect my privacy."
When the orderly left the room, I went back in. "I
didn't mean to embarrass you," I said.
"It's okay. It just wouldn't have been proper for you
to see me with my skinny butt hanging out of this stupid gown."
"I understand, Joey, but someday, I'll see that skinny
butt in bed next to me."
"What?"
"When we're married, silly."
"You don't want to marry me, Sue. I'm not the man you
fell in love with."
"I didn't fall in love with a man. I fell in love with
a boy who once let me beat him arm-wrestling. I fell in love with the boy who
danced with me to "Moon River." I fell in love with the guy who gave
me this," I said, pulling my precious locket out from where it was hidden
by my sweater. "I'm in love with a man now. You, Joey."
"But I'm not the same man."
"Yes you are. Whatever you can or can't do, I love
you." I leaned down and kissed him. Joey kissed me back pretty hard, the
way he did a couple of times the night before he left for the war.
When we let go, tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm
going down to physical therapy tomorrow, and I'll work until I'm healthy enough
to take care of you, if you still want me."
On Easter Sunday morning, Mom, Dad, and I piled into the
back of Joe and Marge's car to meet Joey for services at the hospital chapel.
He was beaming, obviously very excited, but he wouldn't say a word as he led us
back to his room on his cane.
When we got to his room, he sat in his armchair. "I can
come home next week," he said.
"That's great news!" my dad exclaimed.
"They said if I could do something, I could go home, so
I've been practicing a lot." He stood up and hobbled over to where I was
sitting. Trying to mask the pain on his face, he got down on his bad knee. His
father handed him something. "Sue, I should have done this five years ago
when it was easier. Will you marry me?" There was a diamond ring in the
little box in his hand.
"Oh my God!" I burst into happy tears, and leaned
forward to kiss him, being careful not to knock him over. "Yes, Joey, my
God yes, I'll marry you!"
"My therapist said he'll work with me until I can carry
a nurse around. When I can do that, when I'm strong enough to carry you over
the threshold, we'll get married."
It was supposed to be a small ceremony. At least, that was
what we wanted. Our families had different ideas. Joey's platoon leader, who had
been in the prison camp with him, was the best man. Mike recovered from his
injuries faster than Joey. He came to visit when he could, driving three
hundred miles one way, helping Joey keep his spirits up. The young widow from
church who supported me through those lonely years when Joey was away was
matron of honor, and her little boy was the ring bearer. Both our moms cried
their way through the whole thing.
At the reception, Joey danced with me when the band played
"Moon River," but he sat most of the time. When it got late, his
father gave him the keys to a new car for us to drive to the hotel where we
would be spending the night. After the garter was retrieved and the bouquet
tossed, we left.
"Mrs. Ramsey," he said after the bellboy carried
our bags into the room, "I never thought I'd see this day." He picked
me up, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to kiss him as he carried me to
the bed, the first real bed we would ever share.
We kissed, hotter than we ever had, fumbling with buttons,
zippers and catches. We laughed at our nervousness and frustration with strange
garments, until I was down to my bra and panties, and he was only wearing his
shorts.
His cock bulged against them, fascinating but frightening,
moving, growing. "This is it, Sue."
"I've waited a long time, honey," I replied,
reaching behind me to unclasp my bra.
"Wait, let me do that," Joey said. He pulled my
bra off me, and knelt on the bed next to me, looking at my tits. "You're
perfect." His hand touched my bare flesh for the first time.
"Perfect," he repeated as my nipple hardened.
I pulled him down on top of me, feeling his chest hair
against my tits and his turgid shaft against my panty-covered mound. We kissed,
tongues intertwined, until we were fighting for air. "Roll over," I
said. I wanted a good look what was going to make me his wife physically. He
raised his hips when I grabbed the waistband of his briefs.
Joey and I had made a pact that we would only go so far
before we were married, so I had never seen his cock. I thought I had an idea
of its size and shape from feeling it against me, hard through clothing when we
made out, but seeing it bared, ready, and anxious, inches from me, was
different. I was almost as scared of it as I was thrilled by it.
"I don't know what to do," I said.
"You got an A in health class in eleventh grade,
Sue."
"So did you."
"We learned all about this there. I think we can figure
it out," my new husband said, his hand pushing into my panties. It didn't
take long for him to have them off, and to give me my first orgasm by someone
other than me. He did it again, kissing my tits, teasing my nipples with his
tongue.
"I love you, Joey. It's time."
He got on top of me, kissing me as he fondled my tits and
then my cunt. He pushed himself up so he could see what he was doing, holding
it and taking aim.
"Do it, honey. I'm your wife now." I tried to calm
myself to relax my body, while bracing for the pain. Every woman I talked to,
said it hurt, including my mother and my mother-in-law. They said it got better
over time. I prayed they were right.
I was terrified. I expected him to find his mark, push
himself inside me, injure me (tearing tissue is an injury, after all), and then
rut like an animal until he shot inside me.
That's not exactly what he did.
Joey and I discovered something that very first time. He
could drive me crazy with his cock. He didn't enter me for a while. He stroked
me with it, played with me, up and down over my wet cleft, massaging my
clitoris with the hard, wet, spongy end of it, and bringing me to still another
orgasm.
When I calmed down, I saw the happiness on his face.
"I'm going to do it now. I'll try not to hurt you more than I have to,
baby."
His cock pried my lips apart just enough that they gripped
it. I had never felt anything like this. Nothing so big. I was torn between my
fear and my lust about it being where nothing had gone before.
"I didn't know it would feel like this," he
sighed. He shifted his weight, trying to keep from pinning me under him. That
made him move inside me, change his angle, something. It felt good.
He saw it on my face, and he grinned, moving a little more,
this time just a fraction of an inch further into me.
I pulled him down for a kiss, one I knew we would remember.
He kept up with his slow, tiny thrusts, finally coming to a stop against my
barrier.
"I love you, Sue. I have since the day we sat on that
rock and talked. I've always loved you, all through school, every moment I was
conscious in Nam; it was what kept me sane. Now I'm home with you forever. Now
I love you more."
He moved again to kiss me, and sank through. As soon as he
felt me give way, he stopped, holding himself from going deeper, waiting for me
to kiss him back. He gave me time until I nodded, kissed him, and said,
"More."
He was gentle and caring, the way I needed him to be.
Instinct, passion, and love guided us, but it hurt a little. I was very
sensitive and tender. It felt wonderful, an odd mix of pleasure with pain. Our
love was complete when he finally shot his essence inside me. He managed to
keep his eyes open, the same as I did when I reached my first climax with him
inside me a moment later. With everything we experienced, we loved more.
We wanted kids, prayed for them, but not yet. I went on the
pill when we got engaged, and was quite satisfied with it. My tits filled out a
sweater better, and I had just a little wiggle when I walked, something I
practiced when my parents weren't home to drive Joey crazy on our honeymoon. We
cuddled after making love for the first time. "What if the pill doesn't
work?" I asked.
"We start thinking about names."
"Would you want a baby this soon, Joey?"
"I'd rather be finished with some kind of school and
into a decent job before we have kids, but I'll go with the flow. Maybe it's
supposed to happen."
"I think I'd rather wait, but that doesn't mean we
shouldn't practice for getting me pregnant." I caressed his muscle, the
skin sticky with our drying juices.
Losing my virginity hadn't hurt as much as I thought it
might, although I didn't care, since it was Joey. We made love again that night
before we fell asleep, and in the morning before we got ready for breakfast.
When we went to bed that evening I was still sore from stretching to
accommodate him, as amazing as it had felt.
"Joey," I said, touching his naked body in the bed
next to me. "I don't know how to say this, but I'm pretty sore."
"I'm sorry, honey." He kissed me gently and
caressed my tit. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't. Well, yeah, the first time it hurt a
little, but it was you, Joey, my husband. We made love a lot, and I enjoyed
every minute of it, but I think she needs a break," I said, gesturing
toward my crotch.
"Should I kiss it and make it all better?" he murmured
into my ear.
"Very funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny. Guys in the Army talked
about it. I'd like to try it." He kissed me again, and then leaned down
and kissed my tits. "I hope I do this okay."
His fingers teased my curls as he licked and sucked on my
nipples. We learned the night before how much I enjoyed that, but he kept
moving lower until he kissed my belly-button. Then lower.
I knew people did this, touched their partner's intimate
places with their mouths, but I hadn't thought about it much. My promise to God
and Joey as a teenager, followed by those years of forced abstinence, meant
that I was poorly prepared for this sex stuff. I let my body figure out what to
do with conventional missionary intercourse, and I liked it. A lot. Now, my
husband was between my legs, kissing the tops of my thighs.
"I love you, Sue," he said, just before his tongue
reached me.
That first jolt of sensation, his warm, wet tongue on my
tender lips, was like nothing I imagined. My legs spread on their own, and my
hands went down to caress his scalp, avoiding the ugly scars where hair would
never grow. He was gentle, licking at me, kissing my clit, pressing his tongue
into the bruised opening of my cunt. I couldn't believe the feelings.
He brought me to orgasm quickly the first time, faster than
I've ever been able to do it myself, and more intensely that he did in our
love-making earlier. I was still riding that high when I realized I was going
to go again.
I was trying to make sense of the waves of sensation and
emotion that kept washing over me when I heard him say, "You like that,
don't you?"
"Very much! Where did you learn to do that?"
"Listening to guys. They said chicks dig it. I also
read some magazines my roommate's friends brought him in the VA hospital.
Seeing your reaction was kinda fun."
"Didn't it taste funny?" His chin was wet, and I
felt the moisture under me.
"No, in fact, you taste kind of good."
"Really? People say that's nasty," I said.
"I know, but I think they're wrong. It was pretty cool.
I'll definitely do that again."
I was so excited that I almost begged him to make love to
me, but I knew that would only make me more sore. Poor Joey! If I was still
that needy after what he did to me, how bad must it be for him? One glance at
his cock gave me the answer. It was only fair. We were married now. That
changes the rules. "Joey, would you like me to do that to you?"
"Not if you don't want to," he said. His rock-hard
cock bounced with his words.
"I never thought about doing it before. Do you know
what I should do?"
"I heard guys talk about it."
I took him in my hand and stroked him, the way he seemed to
like. "I'll try it." I held his cock and kissed it. A drop of clear
fluid leaked out. It was the same thing I saw on him just before he entered me
each time. I licked him, tasting it.
"Oh, Sue!" he moaned.
That was what I needed to hear. M
0 min
December 10, 2025 Love Endures War: Part 1
Love Endures War: Part 1
Tender love in a turbulent Sixties America.
Based on a post by want some fun 1951. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was the summer of '69.
It was the summer of despair.
"The heat waves shimmered in the distance, rising off
the sand in an unmerciful display of mother nature's authority. We lay where we
had been for hours, in the only good cover around. Off to the left, we heard
enemy snipers, the gunfire signaling the start of another day in Hell."
That was part of a letter Joey wrote after his unit fought
its way back to base camp. He wrote as often as he could. Sometimes, I'd find a
stack of his letters in the mailbox when I got home from work, and then, I
wouldn't hear from him for a while. Whenever his family got any news, they
would call me or visit to share the letter. I did the same for them. I always
let my folks and Joey's read what we wrote, including the parts where Joey and
I talked about getting married when he got home.
It was the summer of '59.
That's when I met him.
Joey and I always liked each other. We were too young to
think of each other as boyfriend and girlfriend at first. His family moved into
a new house down the block the summer after third grade. I was a tomboy. I
loved to ride my bike to the schoolyard to play on the swings, seesaws, and
sliding board with the neighborhood boys. Sometimes, we'd play cowboys and
Indians on the vacant lots in our development. Nobody thought anything of it a;
me, a girl, playing with a bunch of boys. We were kids. I didn't care about the
differences between a boy's body and mine. I knew they could stand up to pee,
and I knew why. Big deal. That's the way it was. The boys knew I was different
from them between the legs. They knew that made me a girl, but otherwise, I was
one of them.
Until Joey moved in.
He was different, maybe a little quieter than the others,
more serious, more grown up. He was horrified the first time one of the boys
took a leak where I could see him. "Don't look, Sue! Harold, what do you
think you're doing? There's a GIRL here!"
"Yeah?" Fat Dennis sneered. "So what?"
"So what? So what? You can't let her see that! That's
what!"
Fat Dennis stood up. He always bullied new kids at first. He
towered over everyone, even Joey, and Joey was big, in a strong-looking way.
"Joey, you moved in two days ago, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"That means you don't tell us what to do. If I need to
pee when I'm out here with Sue, I'll walk to the nearest tree or wall or
something and do it. We all do. So does she. She has to sit down or squat to
pee, though."
"That's wrong."
"No, she does."
"Not that part! I meant doing it in front of a
girl," Joey stated.
"Why?"
"Because it is."
"Says who? You?" Dennis taunted.
Joey stood up and looked at me. "It's also wrong to
fight, and it would be real wrong to let Sue see if anything happens."
"You gonna fight me, new kid?"
"I don't want to," Joey said.
"You chicken to lose in front of a girl?" Fat
Dennis strutted around, flapping his wings and clucking.
"No."
"You know I'd beat you up, don't you, new kid?"
"That's not how it would go," Joey chuckled.
"Big talk," Dennis threatened. "Come here and
fight me."
"No."
Dennis was pretty worked up by that point, so everyone knew
he was going to lunge at Joey. Poor Fat Dennis. Joey side-stepped, ducked
Dennis' punch, and flipped him over so he landed on his back. It knocked the
wind out of him for a couple seconds.
Joey knelt next to him. "I didn't want to do that. Are
you okay?"
Dennis wiped his eyes with his t-shirt, refusing to cry.
"What did you do?"
"Stopped the fight. I want to be your friend, Dennis. I
know you're the leader here, so I'm telling you; no peeing in front of her, and
if she needs to go, we walk away."
Fat Dennis struggled to his feet, shaking off Joey's offer
to help. "Fine, but why?"
"Do you pee in front of your mother?"
"No! Boys don't do that!"
"Right, but why not?"
"You just don't. Nobody pees in front of their mother.
Heck, that stops when you're old enough to aim it. I mean, it's your
mother!"
"You have a big sister, don't you, Dennis?"
"Yeah."
"Do you pee in front of her?"
"No!" Dennis sputtered. He looked like he was
working himself up to a second round.
"Why not?"
"Are you trying to start something, Joey? Boys don't
pee in front of their sisters. That's wrong."
"Exactly. We don't do it in front of our mothers and
sisters because it's wrong. You know why? They're girls."
"Yeah," Dennis said. Then, "Oh."
They shook hands, and with the new rule in place, Dennis
suggested a game of tackle-tag. It was his favorite game. To tag someone, you
had to knock them down. Tripping or shoving often were enough, but we usually
went home scuffed and dirty. Dennis approached the game with brute force. The
rest of us responded with agility and speed, so we were fairly matched.
Maybe Joey tried to treat me like a girl. It was easy to get
away from him when he was "It." He'd tackle the guys if he had to,
just the way they taught him, but not me.
When it was my turn to be "It," Joey was closest
to me. He ran, dodging me, until I grabbed his arm and threw myself at him. He
landed on his belly with me on his back.
"Holy cow, Sue! You hit hard!"
"Yup. You're "It." I scampered away from him.
A few turns later, he was "It" again and came after me. He caught my
one leg as I was climbing a tree and pulled me down. I landed on top of him,
breaking my fall.
Lying on his back, he laughed and picked me up by my waist
to hold over him like a trophy. "Tag. No tag-backs. You're 'It.'"
"I'm not on the ground. To tag someone, they have to
land on the ground."
He pulled me against himself and rolled us over, pinning me
under his body. "Now you're tagged." He rose up on his arms and
looked into my eyes for a moment on top of me, smiling. Then he stood up,
helped me to my feet, and ran away.
Joey fit in well enough, but sometimes he'd wander off. I
was curious about those times, so I watched him, to see where he went. I
followed him after a while and found him sitting on a big rock in the shade,
staring down the hillside at the surveyors figuring out where new streets would
go. "Penny for your thoughts, Joey."
"Oh!" He jumped like I had appeared by magic.
"Hi, Sue."
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting on this rock."
"May I sit with you?"
That was how it started.
Joey and I became friends. We spent the whole afternoon
sitting in the shade on that rock, swapping stories and getting to know each
other. The entire gang of us "Daisy Drive Devils," as our parents
called us, were friends. At least a few of us were always together. The day
after Joey and I talked, the Devils played as a group like we always did.
One morning we woke up to a steady, soaking rain. No one
ever called each other on rainy days, since none of us was allowed outside
because we would catch our death. None of our mothers understood that we would
get wet walking to the bus stop that fall, too.
We sat alone in our living rooms and watched Looney Tunes,
The Three Stooges, and game shows on television. My parents had a big,
top-of-the-line, blond oak cabinet best and an antenna on the chimney, but
after Joey moved in, I didn't spend much time in the living room, except when
"Lassie" was on, Sunday nights.
I was helping Mommy with the breakfast dishes, watching the
rain through the kitchen window, when the big black telephone on the table next
to the refrigerator rang. Since I was drying, Mommy told me to answer.
"Hello, Brown residence."
"Is that you, Sue? This is Joey. Do you want to come
play at my house? My mother says it's okay."
"It's raining."
"I can come over with a big umbrella to get you."
"Do you want to watch television?"
"We could, or we could play in the basement or my room.
Maybe we could trade baseball cards or something."
"Let me ask Mommy."
In ten minutes, Joey knocked on our door. With my shoebox of
baseball cards safe and dry under my yellow rain slicker, I splashed down the
sidewalk, protected by him.
That first day at Joey's house was an eye-opener. I had
never been in a boy's room, but I thought all they did was play with toy trucks
and soldiers and Lincoln Logs. Joey did stuff the other boys didn't do. He
played the piano. He read books. He drew pictures. He was probably the toughest
and strongest kid on the block, even though I did beat him arm wrestling once,
but he had another side. Joey showed me different things in life.
He was a collector. He had baseball cards, coins, stamps,
and models. I had my card collection and some dolls I took very good care of,
since they were going to belong to my little boy and girl someday. I knew the
value of things. Joey had some really neat stuff, and he liked things the other
kids didn't.
Every time it rained, I went to Joey's house or he came to
mine. Our parents liked each other, so our getting together was encouraged. We
were close friends. We shared secrets, fears, and dreams. We were never bored
or lonely like the other kids seemed to be when the Devils couldn't play
outside.
Joey's parents joined our church, so we were in the same
vacation Bible school class in August. By the time fourth grade started, the
grown-ups saw us as a puppy-love couple, I guess, but we were just part of the
gang to the rest of the Devils.
In seventh grade, Mom and Dad let me go to the Friday night
dances with the rest of the kids. I always went with my girlfriends, and Joey
went with the boys, old Daisy Drive Devils or teammates from the sports he
played. At that age, boys stood on one side of the gym and girls stood on the
other, both groups talking about members of the other group.
Joey knew my preferences in music. He liked some of the more
modern, edgy bands, but I still loved the crooners. I saw him break away from
his gang and go talk to the school principal, who served as DJ. I thought he
probably requested a Beach Boys song, since he and his buddies liked that
stuff, but instead, the principal got on the mike. "I have a song request.
Here's your chance, gentlemen. Ask a lady to dance."
Andy Williams sang. Mom and Dad taught me to dance so I
wouldn't look awkward, but Joey was the first boy I ever slow-danced with. I
still remember all the lyrics to "Moon River." Feeling his hand
holding mine as we moved, I knew I wasn't a child anymore, and that things
between us would change.
Monday in school, it was obvious they had, at least in the
eyes of our classmates. Girls I didn't even know told me they thought I had a
cute boyfriend. Joey told me that all his buddies referred to me as his
girlfriend. All that from one dance. We talked about it the rest of the school
year. Our friends were right. We belonged together.
Joey and I started going steady in eighth grade. The locket
he gave me for my fifteenth birthday is in its original box in my nightstand.
He bought it with money he earned doing jobs around the neighborhood. It's
still one of my most prized possessions. He turned sixteen before I did, so he
drove us to the mall so I could pick out the dress he would buy me to take me
out for my birthday dinner. When he kissed me goodnight on my front porch after
our date, he gave me one last gift; a picture of him to put in the locket I
wore whenever I dressed up for church or for him. It's still in there.
All through high school, Joey and I were inseparable. I
became a cheerleader, co-captain of the squad senior year, mainly so I could be
near him. Our parents were thrilled. My folks loved Joey, and the Ramsey's
treated me like their daughter. They trusted us, knew that we had taken a vow
in youth group to remain pure until marriage. On my eighteenth birthday he gave
me a "sweetheart ring." We were in love, the kind of love that lasts,
one built on friendship rather than hormones.
Don't get me wrong about hormones. Joey grew from a cute boy
the girls whispered about in seventh grade into one they drooled over in high
school. Guys looked at me all the time, too, but everyone knew we were
off-limits. I was his girl, and he was my man. Everyone understood. It was how
the world was meant to be.
As seniors in high school, we had the grades and credits to
get into college. I didn't need to go, since I would be a wife, homemaker, and
mother. Joey and I talked about it for years. He planned to follow in his
father's footsteps by serving his country. When he was done, we would get
married and he would continue his education.
Prom night was the night when a lot of couples had sex for
the first time. Joey and I were king and queen of the prom. More than one of
his buddies made comments about our plans for later that night, since we
weren't going to the post-prom party. One of my girlfriends teased me in the
rest-room at the prom, too.
"Are you and Joey going to do it tonight?" she
asked from the next stall.
"Do what?" I asked. I had my lap full of prom gown
skirt, trying to squat over the toilet to pee.
"It. Are you two going to do It tonight?"
"If you mean are we going to have sex, the answer is
no."
"Why not? You two have been going together for, like,
forever."
"Yes, and we promised we would wait. You and I talked
about this."
"I know, but it's Joey. He's like, your world, isn't
he? You're going to marry him, aren't you? And he's so gorgeous."
She was right. It was Joey, my gorgeous man, the man who
made me feel like a beautiful, well-loved woman. Yes, other couples would have
sex that night, couples who would never get married, who didn't love each other
like my boyfriend and I did. They didn't understand that real love doesn't need
sex. That two people can feel like they have one soul without being physically
intimate. I thought about my parents and grandparents. Surely they didn't have
sex anymore, but they still were deeply in love. That's how Joey and I were.
Being in love was natural, like getting out of bed in the
morning and brushing my teeth. Marriage and family were a given. We knew what
some of our friends did. We knew we should wait. Sex was for newlyweds,
something we would be when he got out of the Army. He left for boot camp three
days after graduation.
It was the summer of '69.
His letters during basic training were so full of love, I
thought he might surprise me and ask me to marry him when he got home. I would
have. The minister's study would have been good enough for me. We were more in
love than ever, having been apart. We both felt it, but Joey avoided any
discussion about long-term plans. We lived in the moment.
The night before he shipped out, we were in the basement
family room he and I helped Dad build, sitting together on the couch.
"Baby," Joey said, "Do you think you should
wait for me? You know there's a chance I'll never come home. I could die over
there. Maybe we should break up so you can get started on finding another
guy."
"No! There won't be another guy, Joey. I'm yours. I've
known that more than half my life."
"I feel the same way," he said, wiping my tears
with his neatly folded pocket handkerchief. "I can't imagine feeling like
this with anyone else. I thought about asking you to marry me before I ship
out, but I decided that's not fair. You're young and beautiful. You're going to
be here, and Lord knows where I'll be. Please, Sue, just write back to me when
I can write to you."
I wanted to give him my virginity that night. He deserved
it. He was the only man I would ever sleep with, and he wasn't trying anything!
"Joey, do you want to make love?"
"Please don't ask me that. I do, but I won't. We've
waited this long, honey. If I come back, we'll see if we still feel the
same."
"You're scaring me. I can't lose you." We spent
the night on the couch, kissing, cuddling, and finally sleeping in each
other’s arms, dressed except for our shoes.
I stayed at my high-school job at the diner. I didn't have
any other job skills, but I worked hard. It was good enough. Work kept me
occupied and earned some money, a nest egg for when Joey and I got married. I
didn't burn my bra. I looked forward to a couple of babies and a nice kitchen.
I didn't want a career other than wife and mother. Maybe, when the kids were
grown, I would take some classes, but hopefully, being a grandmother would take
up a lot of my time.
Joey had been gone for over two months. From the dates on
his letters, it seemed like he wrote to me and his parents almost every night,
but mail service from the jungle was sporadic. Often, we went for a week or
more without any news. The letter about him being pinned down by snipers was in
the last bundle, over two weeks earlier. As always, I was sick with worry, but
I knew things would be okay. They always were.
One night, Joey's parents rang our bell. My dad opened the
door.
"Joe, Marge, how are...." The smile crumpled off
Dad's face.
Joey's father shoved a paper into my dad's hand, and ushered
his crying wife onto the sofa.
"Hon, Joe and Marge are here. Come down here now,"
my dad called up the steps.
Mom rushed into the room, and saw Dad reading a telegram.
Joey's parents were holding each other. "Oh my God!" Mom wailed and
threw herself at Marge on the couch.
Dad hands shook as he read. "He's M I A? Missing in
Action? Joe, Marge, that could be good. That just means he's separated from his
unit, or he and some other guys are holed up somewhere with a busted radio,
doesn't it?"
Joe, Sr. growled, "It means they don't know if he's
dead but they haven't found his body, or if he's injured and dying in the
jungle, or if he's in some hospital, so damaged they don't know who he is. He
could be a P O W."
Marge and Mom started wailing in unison. I did nothing. I
probably had the same expression on my face Dad did, since I was so much like
him; stunned silence, no tears, no anguish; nothing. Numbness.
Finally, Dad said, "Maybe not. At least they haven't
found his body, so he must be alive."
Joey's father spat, "Or blown to bits or burned beyond
recognition or,..."
"Stop it!" Marge screamed. "Just stop it!
This is my baby we're talking about! Mine! I carried him inside my body for
nine months, pushed him out of me, and fed him from my breasts! Mine! You're
supposed to be making this easier for me! Dammit! You're not helping!"
"Sue, would you get Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey some iced
tea?" Dad asked in his dead voice.
Joey's mom wailed, "I don't want any damned iced tea! I
want my baby back!"
I'm strong, or maybe I'm slow, but it finally sank in. I
might never see my Joey again. I felt completely alone. Mom was awash in tears
with Marge and Joe. I looked at Dad. I never saw such a look of pained love
from him before. He helped me to the loveseat and held me while I cried. For
the first time in my life, I saw him cry too.
Joey's parents went home when Marge ran out of tears. Joe
helped her to her feet, kissed my mom on the cheek, shook Dad's hand, and then
hugged me. "I'll call you or stop by every day, whether I hear anything or
not. I know Joey wants me to do that."
When the front door closed, Mom said, "I need to go to
bed." Dad followed her up to their room. I sat on the loveseat blowing my
nose, wondering whether I would ever feel Joey's arms around me again. When I
went upstairs, I was exhausted from crying, but I couldn't sleep. I paced,
looked at photo albums, read his poems, and stared at his self-portrait he had
painted for me. I cried for two days, trying to decide whether I could ever be
happy again.
On the third day, my bos
29 min
December 08, 2025 Touching Toni: Part 2
Touching Toni: Part 2
Best friends make the most of an arrangement.
Based on a post by L Kilkenny.
Listen to the Podcast at Steamy
Stories.

A Week To Come.
"Good morning, Jake," his mother said when he came
downstairs for breakfast.
"Morning Mom," he smiled at her. "Something
smells good."
"Scrambled eggs and bacon," she smiled. It was
still his favorite.
Jake just smiled, made a plate for himself, and his mother,
and sat down at the table while she was taking the last of the eggs out of the
pan and putting them into the bowl that he had just half emptied to make their
plates.
Jake was already through his first serving when Diane sat
down and started on hers.
"Where's Dad?" Jake asked, noting his absence.
"He's golfing today. I told him he could golf this
weekend if he would come on my work retreat with me this coming week," she
replied while continuing to eat.
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Aren't Toni's folks
going to that too?"
"Yes, since Charlotte and I work together we kind of
have to go, but luckily your Dad and Henry have agreed to go with us so it
should be a good time."
"Sounds like fun. A whole week in cabins on the
lake," Jake said.
"Yeah, as long as the events don't get too corny,"
she smirked. "Last year they had some motivational group come in and we
had to do all these trust exercises and stuff. I think it's going to be a
little more relaxed and free flowing this year. There are some set agenda
items, but much of the time is supposed to be devoted to really relaxing and
decompressing. That's one reason they're allowing spouses to come this year, to
make it kind of a seminar and a vacation."
"Well, I hope y'all have a good time," Jake said,
"y'all deserve it."
"Well thank you Jake," she smiled at him.
"I expect you'll look after Toni while we're all away.
I think this is the longest either of you have been alone so we expect you to
look out for one another," his mother said.
"Yes ma'am," Jake said, keeping his head down,
looking at his empty plate, "I won't let anything happen to her," he
promised.
Work Retreat.
It was a warm and sunny Texas afternoon and Jake had seen
his parents off to their week-long retreat. He had just finished his workout in
the home gym his family had in the basement and was coming up to the kitchen to
grab a bottle of water when he heard the front door open and close. No one had
rung the doorbell so that left two options. Either he was getting burglarized,
or ....
"Jake?" He heard Toni's voice call out.
"Yeah," he said coming to the top of the basement
stairs.
Toni came from the den into the kitchen as he came in from
the other side.
"Been working out I see," Toni said, looking at
his sweaty body dressed in a tank top and gym shorts, and feeling a warmth
starting to spread from her center outward. "He looks yummy!" she
thought to herself.
"Yeah, a little bit," he said looking at her in
her jean shorts, wearing a snug fitting tank top. Texas summers were no joke,
even in Northern Texas, so clothing was usually chosen more for its cooling
properties than style. Her hair was braided in a long braid, reaching to her
waistline.
"Cool, I just thought I'd come hang out over here since
everybody's gone. I don't really like being completely alone," she
confessed.
"Sure, no problem," Jake said, "Let me run
take a shower and then we'll hang out."
"Sounds good to me," she said, going back into the
den and turning on the TV.
Jake ran upstairs, got some clean clothes and jumped in the
shower. He showered quickly, threw on his clothes, hung up his towel, and
headed back downstairs.
Toni was sitting on the couch with her shoes in the floor
and her long legs pulled up under her. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her
sitting there. She looked up and saw him standing in the door way and smiled
her little half smile which made her green eyes sparkle.
"So what's on the agenda for today?" Jake asked.
"Well," Toni said, "Kaylee is having a get
together at her pool this evening and invited us."
"Sounds good," Jake said. He really didn't care
much for crowds, but he knew Toni wanted to go so....
"Really?" Toni asked, her eyebrows slightly
raised.
"Sure," Jake said. "I don't have anything
else to do, and I did promise my mom that I'd keep an eye on you."
"Okay, go grab what you need and then we'll run over to
my house and I'll get my stuff," she said, leaning down to put her sandals
back on.
Jake went up to his room, put on his socks and shoes and
grabbed a pair of swim trunks and an extra tee shirt, his sun glasses and a UT
ball cap. Throwing everything in a gym bag, he headed back down stairs where Toni
was waiting. They went out, locking the front door behind them.
Jake tossed his bag into the truck before following Toni
over to her house.
"Come on up," she said, heading up the stairs.
"I just need to grab a few things."
Jake followed along behind.
He looked around her room as he stood in the doorway. It was
a typical teenage girl's room he assumed. He had only seen two teenage girls'
rooms and they were pretty much the same. Posters of the latest celebrity heart
throb, soft pastel colors, white bedroom furniture, a queen sized bed with a
floral print comforter. She had a shelf, built like a pyramid, so each
successive level had a shorter shelf.
On the bottom, she had five sea shells she and Jake had
collected when their families had vacationed together at the beach a couple of
summers ago. The next shelf had 4 snow globes that her Dad had gotten from his
company travels over the years. Next were 3 plastic horses that Jake had given
her over the years. One white, one black, and one a buckskin. Toni loved
horses. Above that were 2 pictures. One was her and Jake, not long after he'd
moved in next door, and the other was her and Jake at their high school
graduation. The first picture had always been there, the second she changed
every so often with a new one, and the replaced one went into an album she kept
in her book shelf.
The top row was a single small shelf, and on it sat a
pitiful little toy car with most of the paint missing and only three wheels. It
had held the top spot on the shelf since she got it. It was her most prized possession.
"Hold this open," Toni said, handing him her bag.
Jake dutifully held the bag while she went around the room,
digging things out of dresser drawers, closets, and clothes baskets. She
reached in, grabbing an extra pair of panties and a bra which she threw toward
the bag, but overshot slightly, hitting Jake right in the face with them. The
bra bounced off and landed on his arm, the panties however hung there
precariously from the bill of his hat, the light cotton fabric not having
enough weight or gravity to fall.
"Oops," Toni giggled, "sorry about
that."
Jake blew on the panties and they dislodged and fell into
the bag. "Uh, no worries," he said, his face now flaming red.
Toni grabbed the rest of her stuff, tossed it in the bag,
and grabbing the bra still laying across his arm, put it in the bag as well.
"Ready to go," she announced.
Jake zipped the bag up and following Toni, headed back down
stairs.
Kaylee’s House.
A dozen or so people were already at Kaylee's house when
they arrived. It was about a half and half mix of guys and girls. Everyone was
laughing, splashing and having a good time. Jake and Toni went into the pool
house to change into their swim suits. Toni went into the changing room and
Jake went in the bathroom where he changed into his swim trunks and a navy blue
sleeveless tee shirt. They came back out at about the same time. Toni had on
the turquoise bikini with a white wrap around her waist that went almost all
the way to the floor. Jake's pulse tripled in an instant and he could feel
himself beginning to get erect at the sight of her. He picked up a beach ball
that was sitting in the corner and held it in front of himself, hoping she
wouldn't realize what he was doing. He was scared to think of what Toni would
say if she knew he was having these thoughts about her. He was her best friend,
and was supposed to protect her, but lately he felt like it was him she needed
protection from.
They went out of the pool house and Jake jumped immediately
into the pool, hoping the cool water would help cool him off, both literately
and figuratively. He watched as Toni went over to say hi to Kaylee and Steve
who were sitting on the covered swinging chair.
"Hey Toni," Kaylee said as Toni walked up to her.
"You remember Steve," she said, patting him on the leg.
"Yes, hey Steve," Toni said.
"Hey Toni," Steve replied. "Hey, I wanted to
apologize about Travis. Kaylee told me about what he tried to do with you. He's
a freaking idiot and a steroid jock. We went by his Dad's house and let him
know that if he showed his face around here, or especially you, that we'd help
your boyfriend beat his ass."
"Her what?" Kaylee asked.
"Her boyfriend, the tall guy she's always with."
Steve turned to Toni. "Isn't that your boyfriend?"
"No," she said, looking at Jake standing in the
pool, leaning against the side, his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his
face to the sun, "he's my best friend. He has been since we were six years
old."
"He must be a good friend because he messed Travis up.
He had busted teeth, a fractured jaw, a concussion. That's the kind of damage
done by someone that loves you." Steve said, "in my opinion
anyway."
Could that be true Toni pondered? Could he love her the way
she loved him? She knew he loved her, but was it the kind of love that would
make him want her the way she wanted him?
"He watches you," Steve said, "not creepy
stalker like, but like you're very special to him. I noticed it at the lake the
other day, that's why I thought y'all were together."
"Toni!" Someone was coming through the crowd
toward her.
"Stormy!" Toni exclaimed as the blonde girl made
her way through the small crowd of people.
Stormy Davis was the stereotypical blonde bomb shell. She
was 5'7", long wavy blonde locks, bright blue eyes that Toni had wondered
more than once if they were colored contacts. She had an hourglass figure with
large tits that weren't what Nature provided but were really expensive, a slim
waist, and flared hips. She had been the head cheerleader her senior year at
their high school. Toni was never a cheerleader, preferring instead to actually
play sports instead of cheering for them. She had played basketball,
volleyball, softball, and soccer.
Stormy finally reached the small group and gave Toni a hug.
"So, how have you been since graduation?" she
asked Toni.
"Just trying to enjoy the summer before starting to
college in the fall," Toni said.
"So where's Jake?" Stormy asked, looking around.
Everyone knew you rarely saw one without the other.
"He's in the pool," Toni pointed him out.
"Mmm, I wish he'd take that tee shirt off. I can see
his big shoulders, arms, and chest through the shirt, but I bet they'd look a
lot better without it," she said wistfully.
Toni suddenly had the urge to take Stormy over to the pool
and hold her head underwater. Where did that come from? Was she jealous of
Stormy wanting so see Jake's body. Short answer: hell yes, she was. Stormy had
a reputation that seemed to come along with being head cheerleader. Rumor was
that she was very sexually active and that once she set her sights on a guy,
that was it. They were conquests to her, and once she got what she wanted, she
moved on to the next one.
Toni suddenly wanted to introduce her to Travis, but then
immediately felt bad. Sexual-free-spirit or not, no woman should ever be forced
to do something they didn't want to do.
"He has a sensitivity to the sun," Toni said,
repeating the story that had been made up years prior to explain why he never
took his shirt off in front of anyone. "His back and chest break out in an
awful rash if they get too much sun."
"Well that's just a shame," Stormy said, watching
Jake in the pool.
Toni took her wrap off and set it on the seat next to
Kaylee. "I'm going to go jump in for a bit," she said, walking off
toward the pool.
Jake saw her coming and smiled. She took three running steps
and jumped, right at him. He tried to catch her, but her momentum took them
both to the bottom of the pool.
Jake came up for air, and saw Toni had already surfaced,
laughing. He couldn't help but smile as the reflections of the sunlight off of
the water danced across her emerald eyes.
She swam over next to him and whispered in his ear.
"Somebody's been checking you out."
"What?" he asked, surprised.
"Yep, Stormy Davis was just up there asking me all
about you," Toni teased.
He looked up and spotted Stormy, and she did appear to be
looking and smiling at him.
"Why would she be asking about me?" he asked,
confused.
"Well, apparently she thinks my best friend is a
hunk," she said, winking at him.
Stormy was beautiful in a movie star sort of way. Her folks
came from old Texas Oil, so she was rich, and could afford the best of
everything and she was used to getting her way. Toni wondered if Jake might be
interested in Stormy.
Jake had never dated. He would talk to the girls in their
circle of friends, but he had never sought out a girl in a romantic sense. She
had attributed that to his past, and not trusting intimate relationships, but
as they got into their teens she expected hormones to take over and that
natural drive that seems to exist in every man to reproduce the species to come
forth, but for Jake, he had never pursued anyone that she knew of. Was he truly
so broken that he might never have a loving physical relationship?
"Yeah, right," Jake said. "She could have any
guy in our class."
"I think she's already had most of them," Toni
quipped with a wicked smile.
Jake just grinned. His best friend had a caustic wit when
she wanted to.
"Maybe you should ask her out," Toni suggested.
"Uh, what?" Jake asked, stunned.
"I know she'd go out with you."
"Well, I can't," Jake said.
"Why not?" Toni pressed.
"I just can't." Jake suddenly had that look in his
eyes, like a trapped animal. He turned, climbed up the ladder and headed
straight to the pool house.
Toni stood there, watching him practically run into the pool
house. What had that been about? Had she pushed him too far? Was he really that
afraid of intimacy? She felt horrible for making him scared like that. She got
out of the pool, got her towel to dry off, and collected her wrap.
She decided to give him a little time and assumed that he
would be back so she mingled, speaking with friends here and there, mostly
Kaylee and Steve. After nearly an hour had passed and Jake was still not back,
she began to get worried.
She went to the pool house and looked around, but Jake was
nowhere to be found. She looked where he had put their bags. Her bag was still
there, but his was gone.
She went back outside and looked around but couldn't find
him. She walked around to where they had parked the truck. His truck was there,
but when she opened the door, she saw his keys lying in the seat. She knew he
hadn't left them there when they had arrived, so she assumed that he left on
foot, but had left her with the truck to get home.
Toni quickly went back to the pool house, threw her shirt
and shorts on over her swimsuit, and headed out. She drove his truck toward his
house, expecting to see him before she got there, but he was not on the road.
Had he walked the whole five miles back home this quickly?
She parked the truck and mounted the front steps of the
house. The front door was locked, but she had his truck keys, and knew where
the hidden key was on the front porch. Unlocking the door, she ran up the
stairs to his room. The door was open so she looked in. Jake was lying on his
back on the bed. His arms folded over his face. His chest still moving up and
down rapidly from the exertion of running all the way home, his blonde hair was
plastered to his forehead from the swimming and the sweat. His face and arms
were flushed.
Toni padded over on bare feet and eased herself down on the
bed next to him. Laying her head on his chest and stretching her arm over his
stomach. She felt his body tense at her touch. He had always avoided physical
contact with everyone, except for his parents, and her. She was afraid that she
might suddenly lose her place in this exclusive club. She started to remove her
arm when he reached down with his left hand and stopped her. Holding her arm
across his stomach.
"Toni, I'm sorry," Jake started out.
"No Jake, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have
teased you like that."
"No, it's not your fault. I know you didn't mean
anything by it, it's just that the thought of asking out a girl, while I'm
already in love with another girl; it just wouldn't be right." He said it
in a low whisper.
"What do you mean, you're already in love with another
girl?" She was both thrilled and terrified of what his answer might be.
"Toni," he confessed. "I love you. I always
have, and I always will. I love you as my first and best friend, but I also
love you in another way."
"And what way is that?" Toni asked, feeling light
headed and giddy.
"In a way that I want to kiss you, and hold you in my
arms forever. In a way that I want to make love to you if someday you loved me
too."
"Well," Toni whispered in his ear, her hot breath
causing an almost instant erection. "Welcome to someday Jake, because I do
love you, too."
Jake moved his other arm and looked down at Toni who was
looking up at him. She slowly moved up, never taking her eyes off of his, and
placed her lips softly on his. Her right hand slid up his chest, up the side of
his neck before moving to the back of his head, drawing his head down even
further. Her mouth opened ever so slightly and her tongue reached out
tentatively and touched his lips. At first she felt him stiffen, but then he
opened his mouth and let her tongue enter. As it touched his tongue it was like
an electric shock that flowed through his whole body. Jake's arms tightened
around her body, pulling her on top of him. He could suddenly feel her tits
pressing into his chest. As he kissed her more passionately she started to move
her hips in such a way that she was rubbing directly on top of his rock hard
erection.
"Umm," they both moaned in unison.
"Oh Jake," Toni said as she kissed neck, "I
have wanted this for so long now."
"Me too." Jake whispered, nuzzling her neck and
ear. "I have loved you, really loved you for so long now. I was so scared
to act on it because I was afraid if you didn't feel the same way that you
wouldn't or couldn't be my friend anymore and I just couldn't bear to think of
that."
"Oh, baby. I thought the same thing. You have never
expressed any interest in girls so I didn't know if that was something you were
even interested in. I know the terrible things that you lived through, and that
could mess someone up for life, and I'm not saying you're broken, but I
wouldn't blame you if you had some reservations about getting in a physical
relationship. I know how you are about being touched, and I know you tolerate
it from me, but I didn't know if you actually liked it."
"You're right. I did have a rough go at the start. I
know that since I came here that I'm safe, and cared for and loved, but I know
I still have an issue about being touched. There are some memories that I don't
know if I'll ever be able to repress, but that first day that you climbed the
fence into my back yard and we played cars, and then I gave y
34 min
December 06, 2025 Touching Toni: Part 1
Touching Toni: Part 1
Best friends find they both want something more.
Based on a post by L Kilkenny.
Listen to the Podcast at Steamy
Stories.

Jake awoke from what was apparently a very good dream since
he could feel his erection straining against his boxers. Lying on his side,
facing the wall, he was still in that transition between sleep and wakefulness.
Taking a deep breath and stretching he noticed a distinct and familiar smell.
It was floral and fresh with a hint of strawberry. He started to roll over but
something was pressed against his back. Craning his head around the first thing
he saw were bare feet with red painted toe nails, ankles crossed with one foot
lightly bouncing. Turning his head further, he saw bare legs, smooth, shapely,
tan, and athletic. He next saw blue-jean shorts over narrow hips, a tucked in
white tee shirt concealing firm, proud tits, one of which was covered by a
cascade of blue-black hair which came almost to the waist, a long slender neck,
clean jawline, supple lips, narrow nose, and deep emerald green eyes. The eyes,
and the lips, held a smile as Jake looked at his unexpected visitor.
"Morning sleepy head," Toni said pertly.
"Hey Toni," Jake said sleepily, in his deep soft
voice. "What's up?"
"Uh, not you," she joked. "I was beginning to
wonder if you were going to wake up today. I started to wake you once, but you
sounded like you were having a really good dream so I just got comfortable and
waited for you to wake up."
"What time is it? How long have you been here?"
Jake asked, still keeping his back to her because his erection was still
raging.
Toni looked down at her phone. "It's 9:30 in the
morning and I've been here about an hour or so."
"So what are you doing here so early on a Saturday
morning?"
"Will you go with me to the mall today?" Toni
asked.
"Uh, yeah, sure. I just need to take a shower,"
Jake said.
"Okay," she said looking at him with her trademark
half-smile. She waited a full five seconds to see if he would move. He didn't.
"I'm going to get some orange juice," she said
getting up off the bed. "You want some?"
"Uh, sure," he said, still looking back over his
shoulder.
Toni left her sandals on the floor next to his bed and
padded barefoot out the door, headed to the kitchen.
Jake jumped out of bed with tented boxers. He grabbed some
clean underwear, a pair of khaki shorts and a tee shirt and headed down the
hall to the bathroom, but only after looking both ways at the door to make sure
no one would see him.
Turning on the shower as soon as he got inside the bathroom,
he stripped his boxers off and threw them in the hamper.
Feeling the water before stepping into the shower, he put
both hands on the wall and let the water flow over his head and down his back.
At 6'3" he had to bend slightly at the waist to get his head below the
shower head. His broad back was pale compared to his face, neck and arms which were
nicely tanned. Jake had the classic farmer's tan, meaning he was rarely out in
the sun without a shirt on. The reason for that was evident in the raised red
scars crisscrossing his back.
Fostered.
Jake had grown up in the foster care system. His mother had
abandoned him on the steps of a church in Cleveland, Ohio when he was a day
old. He was handed over to social services and placed with a family that made a
living out of gaming the foster care system. Child care was not on their list
of priorities. He was barely fed, never loved, and when the man of the house
had a little too much to drink, the boy became the target of his evil
inclinations.
When he was 6 years old, and after a particularly harsh
beating, he had waited until his foster parents had finally passed out from
drink, took the only thing he owned, a small metal car with one wheel missing,
and he left. It was raining and cold. He didn't know where he was going, but he
knew he wasn't staying here anymore.
He walked down the dimly lit sidewalk, passed street corners
where hookers and drug dealers plied their trades, past darkened alleyways
where junkies snorted and injected drugs, some of them for the last time. He
felt invisible, as he had so often in his home. Unseen and unheard until fate
or just plain bad luck seemed to shine a spotlight upon him, making him the
most visible thing in the room. A target. On this night though, thankfully, he
remained invisible. Cold and wet, but invisible to those around him.
Suddenly he smelled something that smelled like heaven.
Someone was cooking and his stomach was growling. Driven by hunger, he followed
his nose down an alley until he found a door propped open and the smells coming
out where too much to resist. He went inside and found a pan of fresh bread
rolls. He grabbed one and started eating. He didn't hear the large man that
walked up behind him.
"Would you like a glass of milk with that?" a
voice behind him asked.
He spun around like a cornered animal, looking for an
escape.
The man could see the fear in the boy's eyes. He backed up
so that he wasn't too imposing and knelt down on one knee. "It's okay son,
I'm not going to hurt you," he said holding his empty hands, palms out,
toward him. "Would you like some eggs and bacon?" he asked.
"What's bacon?" the boy asked quietly.
"What's bacon?" the man asked stunned. "Well
son, it's only the best dang breakfast food on the planet. It's practically its
own food group."
"I've never had any bacon," he said, unable to
meet the man's eyes.
"What's your name son?"
The boy stood, not answering, looking down at the floor.
"It's okay son, you're not in trouble. My name's
Mike." He held out his large hand.
The boy automatically flinched back, away from his hand.
"Hey, hey, hey; it's okay. No one's going to hurt you,
I promise," Mike said soothingly. "You do have a name don't
you?"
The boy shook his head slowly, side to side.
"Well, how about we call you, uh, Jake?"
"Jake," the boy whispered. It was the first time
in memory that he had an actual name, other than kid, brat, bastard, or any of
a hundred names of the type. He nodded his head and said again,
"Jake."
"Okay Jake, how about those eggs and bacon?"
"Okay," Jake said, his head slowly nodded.
Scrambled eggs and bacon soon became Jake's favorite food in
the world. It was so good. He had eaten two scrambled eggs and was on his 6th
piece of bacon when he heard someone knocking on the back door of the diner.
"Jake, this is John." Mike said, introducing the
man who came in. "John is a policeman and he helps people."
"Hey Jake," John said. Mike had already warned him
about trying to touch the boy. "Like Mike said, I'm a police detective. My
job is to help people. Do you need help, Jake?"
Jake sat, looking at Mike and John for a few moments before
very slowly nodding his head.
"Okay, finish your breakfast, and we'll get Mike to
make you a sack lunch to take with us, and we'll go for a ride in my car,
okay?"
"Okay," Jake whispered.
"Hey Mike, would you have any of MJ's clothes here?
He's about Jake's size isn't he?" John asked. MJ was Mike Jr., Mike's 5
year old son.
"You know, I think I do. I keep a change of clothes for
him here because whenever he comes by to visit he invariably gets something on
his shirt or his pants so I keep a couple sets of clothes here."
Mike left the room and soon came back with a shirt, pair of
pants, and even a pair of sneakers.
"Hey Jake, would you like to change into some dry
clothes?"
"Okay," Jake said.
"All right, come on back here where you can have some
privacy."
Mike took Jake to his office and gave him the clothes,
"Here you go bud, put these on."
Mike closed the door, but walked around the side of the
office where there was a window. He just wanted to make sure Jake could get
changed okay. When he looked through the window, the blood drained from his
face. "John," he hissed.
John came over and looked through the window. He saw Jake
gingerly removing his old, wet tee shirt. The red lashes across his back were
angry, swollen, and fresh. "My God," Mike said in an emotional
whisper. John simply shook his head. In his line of work, he had seen this type
of thing far too often, and he never got used to it.
When he was changed, Jake was taken to the police department
where he was able to give the names of his foster parents. They were arrested,
charged, and would be in prison for many years to come.
John called his sister, Diane, in Texas, because he knew
that she and her husband had recently found out that they would never be able
to have children and had been talking about adopting. He arranged with the
social services representative to meet with Diane and Bob Hardin. Within the
month, Jake was getting on his first airplane, bound for Dallas, Texas.
Bob and Diane understood the uphill battle they faced with
Jake. They knew that years of abuse would be hard to overcome, but they were
kind, patient, supportive and now Jake was 18, having just graduated in the top
five percent of his class, with academic scholarships for pretty much anywhere
he wanted to go. He still had his physical scars, and his emotional scars. He
still did not like to be touched. He would willingly accept physical contact
from only three people. His adopted parents and Toni Flint.
Jake moved in with Bob and Diane, to a quiet suburb in The
Colony, Texas. Soon after, he was outside, playing in their spacious back hard.
Though his adoptive parents had bought him many new toys, he still played with
his familiar old three wheeled car. On this day, as he played, he heard a voice
call to him with a simple, "Hi."
Jake turned to see a girl about his age standing at the
fence between his yard and the yard next door. She was tan with long hair that
was shiny black like a crow's wing. She had green eyes that seemed to look into
his soul.
"Hi," Jake said.
"What's your name?"
"Jake."
"Hi Jake, I'm Toni."
"Isn't that a boy's name?"
"Not when you spell it with an 'I'," she said
pertly.
"Do you want to play?" Jake asked her.
"Sure." Toni climbed the chain link fence without
a moment's hesitation.
"What are you playing?" Toni asked him.
"Cars," Jake said.
"Okay. Do you have another car?"
"No, but you can play with mine," Jake said,
handing her the beat up little car.
"Thank you," Toni said.
After playing and talking for a while, they heard a voice
calling. "Toni, Toni Flint!"
"Oh, there's my mom," Toni said, holding the
little car out to Jake.
"You can keep it," Jake said quietly.
Toni looked at the pitiful little car and smiled a little
half smile. "Thank you," she said and reached out and grabbed Jake in
a big hug. Jake stood stock still for a second before slowly reaching his arms
around her.
Diane Hardin, watching from the kitchen window smiled, even
as a tear fell from her eye.
Toni and Jake has been inseparable best friends ever since.
Morning Routine.
After taking care of his morning wood, Jake finished
showering, jumped out, dried off quickly, brushed his teeth, shaved, put on
after shave and deodorant, and finally put on his shorts and tee shirt. Back in
his room, he found Toni, again laying back on his bed, holding her phone in one
hand and a pop tart in the other. Two glasses of orange juice, one already half
empty, sat on the bedside table.
He was still rubbing his head with a towel when he walked into
the room. He threw the towel on the desk chair, and grabbed some socks and
shoes. Putting them on, he said, "Okay, ready to go."
Toni looked over at him and shook her head while making
little clucking noises with her tongue. Swinging her long legs over the side of
the bed, she pointed back at the desk chair.
"Sit," she commanded.
Jake looked at Toni and sat back down in the desk chair.
Walking over to his dresser, she picked up a comb and walked
around behind his chair. She ran her fingers through his wild mass of blonde
hair. His hair was close cut on the sides and back, but longer on the top in
what was called a side-part fade. For some reason, he always forgot to comb his
hair. He was very hygienic, always clean, showered, shaved, but he never seemed
to remember to comb his hair.
His first year of school after moving in with the Hardin's,
he would catch the school bus in front of Toni's house. He would always be
there, sitting on her steps waiting for her. Most mornings his hair would be
sticking every direction at once. She started carrying a comb in her backpack.
She would take it out, work her way through his blonde hair before she would
finally step back, look him over and declare him, "Good to Go." What
she didn't know what that Jake's mother made sure his hair was combed before he
left the house, but he would intentionally mess it up on the walk over to Toni's
so that he could feel her hands on his head as she combed his hair.
Today she was standing behind him, pulling the comb through
his hair, setting the part, before spinning his chair around and looking down
into his pale, ice-blue eyes as he looked up at her, and smiled. She looked
back up to his hair, combed a few stray locks into place and declared him,
"Good to go."
Mall Walking.
Walking through the mall they made quite the pair. Jake at
6'3" with wide shoulders and narrow hips, wore an orange University of
Texas tee shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and black Under Armor running shoes. Toni
was 5'10", her dark skin and raven black hair, evidence of her Native
American ancestry from her father's side, but whose emerald eyes were
definitely a throwback to her mother's Icelandic family roots.
"Are we looking for anything in particular today?"
Jake asked as they rode the escalator up to the second floor.
"We're meeting Kaylee and she and I have to do a little
quick shopping. Then I was hoping we could go by the lake and maybe grill some
burgers, and hang out. It's the beginning of summer and we've graduated high
school so this is our last summer before we all scatter and go off to
college."
When he didn't respond, she looked up at him and saw in his
eyes a combination of fear, anxiety, and sadness.
"Jake?" Toni asked, putting her hand on his arm.
"Yeah?" he said. The look in his eyes was gone.
This worried her more than the fear, this was his mask that he had learned to
put on in the years before he came to Texas. The mask that he hides behind when
he feels like he needs to retreat into himself.
"Oh Jake...." Toni started, concern showing in her
eyes.
"Hey guys, over here!" they heard as they reached
the top of the escalator.
Coming toward them was Kaylee Anderson, her brown wavy hair
bouncing as she trotted toward them. She was cute with a big smile and big
chocolate brown eyes. At 5'3" she seemed tiny next to Jake and Toni. What
most people noticed about her though were the 36 D tits that seemed oddly out
of place on her otherwise tiny frame.
"Kaylee!" Toni said, hugging her best girl friend.
"I'm so glad to see you guys," Kaylee said.
"Hey, Jake."
"Hey, Kaylee," Jake smiled at her. Kaylee had been
friends with Toni and Jake since the 9th grade, so she knew Jake's aversion to
physical contact, so even though she was a "hugger," she knew not to
try to hug Jake.
"Have you found anything yet?" Toni asked.
"I haven't really looked yet, I was waiting on you.
This is kind of a two person job. I need your opinion."
"Well let's get to it."
The two girls headed off with Jake close behind. He wasn't
paying much attention until the girls turned into a store with swim suits
adorning all the mannequins in the windows.
"I think I'll wait out here in the concourse."
"But Jake, we need your opinion on our new swim
suits," Kaylee said.
"Toni can give you an opinion," Jake said
nervously.
"A man's opinion is always better," Kaylee
insisted.
"Please," Toni said.
Jake looked over and saw exactly what he expected to see. Toni's
pout face, that she knew he couldn't say no to.
"Ugh, okay, let’s get this over with," Jake
sighed.
Kaylee clapped her tiny hands and Toni hooked her arm in his
and pulled him along.
Fitting Room.
Jake was sitting in a chair close to the dressing rooms and
the girls had both gone back with several suits each.
Kaylee was the first to come out. She had a bright yellow
two piece bikini that looked like the structural integrity of the string
holding the top up may have been at its design limits. She spun around two
times allowing him to see the front and the back. The bottoms were high cut at
the hips and hugged tightly to her rounded back side.
"Well?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah, Kaylee, it looks great," Jake
stammered. He could feel his ears getting red.
"Jake Hardin, are you blushing?" Kaylee trilled.
"No, er, oh come on, Kaylee, you know I'm not the right
guy for this," Jake said, looking anywhere other than directly at her.
Kaylee just laughed and headed back to the dressing room.
Jake leaned over, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes. "How
do I get myself into these situations?" he asked, to no one in particular.
"Jake?"
Jake looked up and froze. Toni stood there in a turquoise
two piece. The contrast between her dark skin and the suit was amazing. The top
showed off her perfect tits. He could faintly see the outline of her nipples
through the fabric of the top. The bottom of the suit was small but tasteful. Toni
actually looked a little bashful as she turned slowly for his inspection. Jake
could feel his temperature rising up his neck and into his face; and that
wasn't all that was rising.
"Wow," Jake said, his deep voice barely audible.
"Do you like it?" Toni asked almost bashfully.
"Uh, yeah Toni, it, uh, looks great on you," he
said. He was staring and he knew it, but he couldn't look away.
"You really think so?" she asked, looking down at
herself.
"Yeah, Toni, I really think so; you're, I mean it's
beautiful," he said, reverently.
Was he saying "I'm beautiful?" she asked herself,
looking up to see him openly staring at her. She felt butterflies in her
stomach and a familiar warming sensation a little further down.
"Yeah, I like this one too, I think I'll get it,"
she said, turning to walk back to the dressing room. Passing a full length
mirror she looked and saw Jake's reflection. It appeared that his eyes were
glued to her ass as she retreated. Her lips curled up in her little half smile.
Grub.
They made a stop at the grocery store where they picked up
some premade hamburger patties, hot dogs, buns, condiments, salad fixings,
drinks, paper plates, napkins, charcoal, and some ice. Most of this went into
the large ice-chest in the bed of Jake's truck. With everything chilling in the
ice chest, they headed for Lewisville Lake.
They found one of the public camping areas, close to the
water, with picnic tables and a grill. Evidently, the girls had been on their
phones during the drive because within a half hour several of their other
friends showed up.
While the guys messed around in the water, the girls laid
out on towels to work on their tans, and so everyone could see their new swim
suits.
Jake was busy getting the grill going when a group of guys
about their age came wandering up. Evidently they knew a couple of the guys and
girls from their group and they were talking. One of the group, a tall
jock-type named Travis, seemed especially interested in Toni. He was maybe an
inch taller than Jake and looked like he'd been chiseled out of stone. He was
cur
0 min
December 04, 2025 Physical Co-education: Part 2
Physical Co-education: Part 2
Attempting intimacy and Experiencing Euphoria.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

When we got back to our room, Gretchen went into the
bathroom and changed into her pajamas. I changed back into a t-shirt and
basketball shorts. She sat up cross-legged on her side of the bed, leaning back
on the padded headboard. I stretched out on mine.
"Pretty spectacular day," I said.
"It really was," she agreed. "I hope
I didn't ruin the evening for you."
"Not at all. I had fun at the pool." It
had been sort of obvious that she hadn't really wanted to hang out with Tom and
Melissa, any more than we did. I could understand. I've never fantasized of
doubles matches either. Besides, it had been a long day.
Changing the subject; "Are you about ready for
bed?" I asked.
I thought she would be, but she gave a noncommittal
shrug. That was fine too. We could talk a while. Maybe I could swing the topic
around to plankton again. Her subtle body language indicated she mindset was
different than last night, when she already had the covers over herself.
"Did you like the play?" I asked.
"I loved it, actually." She smiled,
pleasantly.
"That look in Miranda's eyes; when she got her
first glimpse of her fellow creatures." I kept the conversation going.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she quoted.
"O brave new world, that has such people in it!"
"And Prospero, waving his staff around, trying
to keep everything on course. Reminded me of Mr. Palmer’s Phys Ed. Class.”
"Ha-ha! And what did you think of Caliban? He
kind of reminded me of you."
"Me?" I retorted. “How so?”
"Big, brutish guy, slunking around."
“Slunking?” I laughed. "And you know who
reminded me of you?" I tried to remember the name of the drunken servant.
"Trinculo!"
"What?" she laughed. "Trinculo? I
pictured myself more of an Ariel."
"Ariel was a guy."
"A fairy!" She debated, while sliding down
to lay on her back.
She leaned over mischievously and tickled me right
in the ribs. "Whatever. But a guy."
I was kind of astonished that she'd done it.
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I," she
teased. Then she lay back on her pillow, all innocent and guileless. "In
the cowslip's bell I lie."
So maybe she wasn't really ready for bed yet, at
all. Maybe I'd underestimated her willingness to have a little fun. I turned
toward her.
Bucket list Items.
"Do you know what they say? That everyone
should do at least once in their life?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"Well, according to this magazine article I
read once, anyway. It listed a bunch of things that everyone should do at least
once in their life. And one was to sleep in the nude in a hotel in Paris."
"And? So, have you?" she asked, a twinkle
in her eye.
I laughed. "I'm working on it. I've slept in a
hotel now at least."
"And what were some of the other things that
everyone should do?"
"Hmm. I can't really remember any of the other
ones."
"So; the only one you remember, is the one
about sleeping in the nude," she teased.
"Well, it kind of struck my fancy. I don't
know, it just sounded so;"
"Bohemian?" she suggested.
Not the word I was searching for, but good enough.
"On the Rue de Barres," she went on.
"With the gardens right outside your window."
"You've been to Paris?"
"Not yet. But I've dreamt about it."
Gretchen said, earnestly.
"Just like the people there; probably dream
about coming here."
"To this hotel?" she teased.
"Don't you think?" I challenged her.
"And sleeping In the nude?" Gretchen
played the skeptic.
"That's the way the French sleep, isn't
it?"
She laughed. "Well, I guess Melissa Paxton is
going to be one step ahead of you, tonight."
"Oh, she's been way ahead of me for ages."
I concurred.
"So now's your chance to catch up."
Gretchen blurted out.
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that one.
Then, miss merit scholar sat up, and began to
unbutton her pajama top.
"Now wait. I wasn't trying to."
"Oh come on," she said. "I hear it's
something that everybody should do at least once in their life." The two
sides of her pajama shirt parted to reveal her two perfect tits, firm, symmetrical,
and proud. She slipped her top completely off, and tossed it on the floor.
"Besides," she continued, laying back and arching her back, plus
wriggling down her pajama pants.
"Last night we did things my way, so it's only
fair to do them your way, tonight." Gretchen played it off as my
initiative.
She looked up at me, all innocent and guileless in
her plain white panties. "Et tu monsieur? Tu ne vas pas te
déshabiller?"
Pardom Muah? I said in my best effort to not appear
uncultured.
“And you, master; Are you going to undress?”
Gretchen said with a wink.
So maybe she really had a headache, last night? And
maybe she'd been just as turned on by Melissa's disrobing as I'd been. Maybe
she just preferred singles to doubles. Like I did.
I stood and made a show of it. I turned off all the
lights but the bathroom, allowing just enough glow so she could see me. Then
pulling my own shirt with my back toward her. I displayed my red-neck seduction
by letting the shirt slide down, off my back.
Still with my back to her (but I could see her
through a wall mirror); I bent over, then wriggled off my own basketball
shorts, sliding them to my knees. I paused a second; what the hell; I reversed
then raised the waistline up so I could hook my elastic brief waistband, then
pulled off my briefs.
“Oui, oui!” she cheered me on. It wasn't like she
hadn't seen what was under them before.
I jumped backward into a back somersault, onto the
bed; and rolled to a landing with my head on my pillow. Then I stretched out my
arms and legs in a luxurious Da Vinci stretch. It did feel good to be naked in
a hotel room, even if it wasn't in Paris.
“Look, Gretchen! I can see an Eiffel Tower!” I said
as my cock pointed skyward.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she cooed as
she wriggled her own panties off, too.
“Our own, one last field trip, tonight?
Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Portland?”
I turned toward her and she turned toward me. There
was absolutely no doubt about how pretty she was. Her attractive face, her
proud tits, her taut stomach, her perfectly rounded hip. Not only pretty but
eminently desirable. As my cock was now frankly announcing. As she was now
frankly aware.
"Sorry," I blushed.
But she didn't seem at all offended. In fact, she
seemed flattered.
I got up and pulled down the bed linens on my side.
She helped, working them under herself. I got back in beside her, the sheets
were silky smooth against our bare skin.
Another Item on the list.
"I didn't tell you everything that was in my
article," I said.
"Oh?" she replied.
"It's who you're supposed to be sleeping with.
In that hotel room in Paris. The one on the; Rue de Whatsit, with the flowers
all around. You're supposed to be sleeping in the nude with your lover."
She didn't respond right away, but she didn't turn
away her gaze. "Mais naturellement, monsieur. Ce serait très bohème,
non?"
“Okay, you gotta help a poor guy out, mademoiselle”
I pleaded. “I feel like I’m missing the best commentary.”
“I’m saying; “But of course,
sir. That would be very bohemian, wouldn't it?”
I reached over and touched her shoulder. She let me
do it. I scooted closer and ran my hand over the soft perfect curve of her hip.
Then I picked up her hand and kissed it while saying; “I hope you like my
Bohemian just as much as I love your French?”
She closed her eyes. I buzzed in even closer and
kissed her perfect nipple, sucking it gently into plumpness, licking it like an
ice-cream cone, up and up, all the way around, greedy not to lose a single
drip.
My hand, meanwhile, continued its exploration: her
posterior nether regions, her lower thigh, the long, lovely valley between her
legs. And at its head a trim, tidy meadow, smooth and soft. And running the
length of the meadow, a pleasant little valley of delights. And as my fingers
probed, the banks of the valley gently yielded to reveal a secret pathway, warm
and moist and promising. And as my fingers explored, the pathway got deeper and
moister; until I found myself at the entrance of a secret cavern, warm and
slippery, deep and exciting.
“Belle, mademoiselle, Oui.”
She was swooning.
I rolled onto her and laid my chest on her tit’s
slowly. I kissed her neck gently and nibbled her earlobe while the weight of my
body settled upon her. She spread her legs wide and wrapped her arms under
mine, then pulled me up, while wrapping her calves around my thighs. My stiff
cock was at the right place.
Now; I know you're supposed to go slow, but
sometimes you just can't help yourself. I hoisted myself up her and she guided
my turgid cock to her warm, slippery entrance. In I plunged. She clamped her
thighs, she clamped her arms. I scooted myself a little further up, the way
Miss Latimer had taught us.
Her thighs were so warm and welcoming, her nipples
so insistent against my chest, her cavern so tight and yet so slick. I closed
my eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. I was the brawny foundry man,
thrusting my ingot of steel into the insistent slippery squeeze of her rolling
mill, thrusting it in; and drawing it out. Thrusting it in until it finally
exploded in a hail of fiery sparks, a blissful shower of molten droplets.
I couldn't really tell if Gretchen had come or not.
She'd gotten wet, she'd let me in, she'd rolled my steel. But whatever she'd
felt herself she'd kept to herself. One of the main lessons that Miss Latimer
was always trying to instill in us was to be aware of our partner's response.
Her Failure to launch.
"Did you come?" I asked.
She didn't reply. I figured she hadn't. But when I
reached over to pet her again she stopped me.
"It's okay," she said.
I cuddled closer. She turned to let me spoon against
her back. I pulled the sheet and blanket up over us and put my arm around her.
But the question still bothered me.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked softly.
She didn't say no.
"When we had sex in class those times I
couldn't really tell either. It always felt like I wasn't doing enough for you.
Was it that way tonight?"
She still didn't reply. She just lay there, soft and
warm in my arms. Okay; if she didn't want to talk about it I wasn't going to
make a federal case. But then she squeezed my arm, ever so slightly.
"It wasn't you, Colt. You’re an amazing lover.”
Then she kissed my hand and laid it to rest on her navel.
Not entirely convincing. But if that was her story,
I wasn't going to argue. I'd just try harder next time. The long day was
catching up to me. The bed was so comfortable. My wrung-out phallus was already
snoozing there between us. I could see Matisse's open window in my mind's eye,
the geraniums, the sailboats rocking in the harbor.
"There's something wrong with my wiring,"
she said quietly. It took me a second to bring my faculties back online.
"I don't feel things the way I'm supposed
to." She was facing away from me, I couldn't see her face.
"When you're inside me I can feel that you're
there, but it doesn't fee
45 min
December 02, 2025 Physical Co-education: Part 1
Physical Co-education: Part 1
Colt Johnson’s prep school coed gym class.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Forward: The students in this story are
in their final semester of Rhode Heritage Preparatory School ,in Rhode Island.
The school systems in Rhode Island have a custom of waiting until a child is 7
years old, to accept them into first grade. Hence, the 12th grade
class is also a year older, and all of them are 18 years old. Copies of their
birth certificates are on file in the principal's office. Rhode Island has some
other approaches to social issues, like granting tax credits to parents whose
teenage girls are compliant with reliable birth standards. It saves the state
millions in otherwise inevitable welfare programs. Most girls opt for the
implanted hormone, but some chose the IUD. This is also said to be a reason
Rhode Island girls have bigger tits, because of the added hormone-based birth
control. Thank you, governor!
Applied Phys Ed, 4 oh 2.
The girls always took a little longer than we guys
did, to get ready, and so we always had to wait for them to come out. We'd mill
around self-consciously, in the middle of the gym. You put 20 naked guys
together anywhere, and they're going to mill around self-consciously.
Finally the 20 girls would come out, in a single
tight little group. Even clear across the gym you could see that they were
naked too; bare legs, bare feet, bare chests, bare everything. They shuffled
their way toward us, just as self-conscious as we were.
There was Gretchen Portland, who just fifteen
minutes ago in Civics class had answered a tough question about the Supreme
Court protocols, with the confidence of a National Merit semifinalist, now
embarrassed to have the whole world see that her tits and her ass were just as
perfect as her SAT scores.
There was Nancy Wilson, who sat beside me in
Calculus, blushing for all she was worth and trying to remain inconspicuous in
the middle of the pack.
There was Harriet Thompson, whom I'd known since
kindergarten, trying to pretend she didn't mind that I was looking at her
vagina.
And there were our fifteen teenage penises, fully
exposed, nowhere to hide, getting more and more self-conscious with every step
closer they took.
Senior Phys Ed.
Phys Ed had been segregated since middle school, but
in fall Senior Phys Ed, 4 oh 1; they focused on social applications, like mixed
doubles tennis, coed variants of many sports, and such We wore our gym clothes;
and so did the girls. Mr. Palmer, our phys ed teacher, had a teaching
assistant; Miss Olson. She was an athlete on the college gymnastics team, but
now in the grad school education program, getting her master’s degree. The
girls loved her enthusiasm and the guys loved her petite energetic and outgoing
spirit. In November and December, they started the social and cultural dance
units; teaching us a multitude of dances. We got to wear our usual school
uniforms for those two months. Just before holiday break, the fine arts
department put on a choir and drama production. Between the music and
drama, Mr. Palmer and Miss Olson put on a cultural dance exhibition, then
invited the audience to join the students in the foyer, for waltzes. The
students were instructed to dance with a class partner for the first dance,
then go into the surrounding crowd to select a new dance partner for the second
song. After 4 songs, the DJ thanked the crowd and invited them back into the
auditorium for the drama club’s presentation.
After the holiday break, we had a new semester, and
Phys ed 4 oh 2. The university sent a different teaching assistant for the
spring semester. She’s doing her internship for a masters degree in physical
education. Miss Latimer instantly became the object of every guy’s sex
fantasies. Her D cup tits and wide ass are separated by a very narrow
waistline. The class uniform was now the swimwear approved by the school.
The guy’s swimsuits are a snug golden spandex brief,
without lining. Girls approved swim uniforms are maroon tankini sets. Again,
without liners. Miss Latimer wore the same Tankini for the aquatic units of the
semester. Her most amazing feature is her huge nipples, which become erect
whenever she experiences a change in skin temperature.
First aquatic units include lifesaving and water
safety. Miss Latimer handled much of that. We sat on the edge of the shallow
end of the pool. She got in the waist high water, inducing the goose pimples
and massive nipple erections. The guys; and some of the girls, had a hard time
remembering most of what she said. I lost count of how many times she said;
“pay attention!” In addition, she taught traditional swimming and diving skills,
After those units, she generally stayed out of the pool, but guys figured out
creative ways to induce that catalyst and observe the physiological phenomena.
The girls occasionally got grabby with each
other during chicken fights. It was a delight to watch, because you never knew
when a tankini ‘wardrobe malfunction’ would happen. We eventually figured out
that some girls delighted in having their top ‘rearranged’ in front of the
class. Melissa Paxton was the first to get her top yanked completely off. The entire
class roared in laughter, but when Melissa got out of the pool, Tankini in
hand, she stood near the ladder and bowed to the applause, then jiggled her C
cup tits, as an encore.
Melissa set a great precedent. The other girls
seemed to take it in stride when they got exposed. Karen yanked Harriet’s
tankini and pulled it up right away, leaving her bare B cup tits wiggling for
the entirety of the match that she and Bill finally won. Karen blamed Carl for
being distracted by the titty show. Carl retorted; “You’re the one who
brilliantly thought it was a winning strategy to expose her, Karen!”
After the aquatic phase, and spring break; our final
8 weeks of Phys ed were the hygiene and reproductive units. They were conducted
in the nude.
Inspections.
Mr. Palmer blew his whistle. We formed up into two
parallel lines, using the red volleyball attack line stripes. The boys on one
line, the girls on the other attack line, facing us. Mr. Palmer had played
volleyball in college and took it for granted that everyone knew. He called the
roll, strutting up and down, in his faded gym shorts and open-mesh jersey. His
busty teaching assistant from the state university, Miss Latimer, stood to the
side.
After roll call came the inspection. Mr. Palmer
inspected the girls, and Miss Latimer inspected the boys. Miss Latimer was just
a couple years out of college herself, with a perky, athletic figure and a
jaunty blonde ponytail. She was wearing baby blue cotton shorts and a navy
sports top.
We boys were supposed to keep our cocks and our
balls clean-shaven, and our upper pelvic pubic hair trimmed to regulation
length. Miss Latimer had told us that most girls these days, herself included,
found the shaven look to be much more attractive than the unruly rats' nests
we'd had at the beginning of the semester. Needless to say, nobody wanted to be
seen as unattractive in Miss Latimer's eyes. We all took our grooming pretty
seriously.
She walked down the line, scrutinizing each of us in
turn. Most of us still couldn't make it through the inspection without getting
a boner. She just took them in stride, knowing we couldn't really help
ourselves. In fact, it made the inspection a little easier for her.
If she was satisfied with your trim; no missed
spots, no errant hairs; she'd look up and give you a friendly nod of approval.
Her eye would always have a little twinkle in it, as if to say that, just
between the two of you, she wasn't really as immune to your manliness as she
was pretending to be.
Meanwhile, Mr. Palmer was inspecting the girls. The
code for them was about the same as it was for us. They had to shave or wax
their vulvas and keep their pubic hair trim and tidy. But they also had to
shave their legs. Mr. Palmer made it a point to run his hand over each girl's
thigh, front and back. He never touched anything else, but he always felt their
thighs. For whatever reason, he always seemed more embarrassed than they did.
In fairness to Mr. Palmer, and all male teachers,
the system and culture is stacked against all male teachers. No one dreads the
‘p’ word more than male educators. But it doesn’t stop there. Mr. Palmer could
face assault charges for what he does, but no female teacher would face such
scrutiny of their conduct. Even the occasional felony case against a teacher
for sexual misconduct is treated vastly different. Convictions against men are
almost a slam-dunk. And incarceration sentences are 500% higher for male
teachers having sex with students.
And let’s face it; female teachers who seduce
students are often thanked by the student. Hell, the boys brag about screwing
the woman!
So Mr. Palmer does not enjoy inspecting teen girl’s
cunts. Even if his huge boner says otherwise.
Warmups.
After inspection, Mr. Palmer always lines the
students up on the volleyball lines, guys on one side of the court; girls on
the other. Half on the attack lines, and half on the back boundary service
lines. The 6 climbing ropes were suspended from the rafters above the tumbling
mats, which were laid between the lines on the gym floor.
He started us off with calisthenics: jumping jacks,
running in place, jazzercise, and Miss Latimer even introduced us to basics of
yoga. Because our two lines faced each other, we couldn't help but see the way
the girls' boobies bounced around during these jumping jacks. Nor could we help
letting them see the flipping and flopping of our cocks. It was an object
lesson for all of us never to take ourselves, or each other; too seriously.
Then more stretches. Then pushups. Then leg raises,
up, then spread wide, then halfway back and hold it. This was the most
entertaining part of the calisthenics Great views of cocks and cunts, but
because of the physical depletion, none of the guys were turgid. Finally, 20
sit ups. Everyone trying not to be last. Nobody was thinking much about cocks
and boobies now. Glycolytic depletion, or physical exertion; turns out to be a
pretty powerful libido suppressant. Finally, mercifully, Mr. Palmer blew his
whistle. We collapsed to the mats.
As we lay there panting, Miss Latimer read out the
partners for the day. The guys and gals found each other, grabbed a clean,
folded sheet from Mr. Palmer, and lined up along the two court sideline. The
girls got to see us guys’ baseline cock size. We got to see their retracted
nipples. Bid deal! Later, we’d get some gauge of how impacting our activities
changed our physical ‘enthusiasm.’.
Today, I got Meg Billig. Meg was one of the more
reserved girls in class, someone you didn't always think of, right off the bat.
But, in fact, she was not a bad person to have as a partner. She was trim and
reasonably fit, with pretty, petite tits and pretty chestnut hair; bobbed, just
above her chin. And, actually, a sweet, shy smile that kind of reminded me of
the little mermaid. She smiled shyly as we paired up. “Hello, Colt Johnson.”
The blood was starting to find its way back to
my tallywhacker. And back, apparently, to her pretty mermaid nipples, as well.
Team Competitions.
The day's activity was rope climbing. It was set up
like a race to keep things exciting. Three pairs of students on each rope. We
had Donny Morgan on our team, so there was no way we were going to win. But at
least we could shoot for not coming in last. Kenny and Marcus were on the coed
cheer squad, so they were very fit and athletic. Pete is a wrestler, but a
heavy weight, so we might beat him in the rope climb relay.
When it was our turn, Meg went first. She grabbed
the rope, jumped up on the knot, reached higher, hauled herself up a good
several feet, wrapped the rope around her leg, and stepped on it with her other
foot to brace for the next haul.
From my vantage point below it was a pretty explicit
lesson in neuromuscular movement science; the strain and release of her biceps
and shoulders, the flexing of her ass, the tautness of her calves. And of
course I couldn't help but notice the pursing and un-pursing of her pretty anus
as well. It's kind of intimate, I guess, to be given such a close-up view of
your classmate's private parts. But it's kind of sweet too.
Eight pulls and she touched the bar, then carefully
segmented back down, breathing deeply, her chest deeply flushed. No one wants a
rope burn.
"Good job," I called as she dropped down
and I jumped up. I used to worry about my equipment getting tangled up in the
rope, but that doesn't really happen. I concentrated on climbing and tried not
to be too self-conscious about the anatomy lesson I was providing to Meg and
the other girls.
Four pairs to a team; each pair, in rotation. The
first climber on each of the 5 teams went to the back of the line and wore a
‘captain’ ball cap; so we could keep track of how each team was doing. First
and second place were pretty well assured, but we battled hard for third and
won it by half a rope. Bashful shoulder hugs all around.
Positions of Kamasutra.
The last 40 minutes of class was for Kamasutra. The
position of the day was something called the Catherine wheel. This was the most
nerve-wracking part of the class, hoping to avoid being chosen for the
demonstration. Fortunately, Mr. Palmer called on Ned Baker and Susan Carson.
They went sheepishly forward, and the rest of us breathed a collective sigh of
relief.
It was one of those complicated Kamasutra positions,
and Mr. Palmer and Miss Latimer had to go over it a couple of times to get Ned
and Susan arranged the way they wanted them. Ned ended up sort of half sitting
on the mat, half lounging back on one elbow, with her sitting on his lap and
leaning back on both of her arms. She had her legs wrapped around his middle,
and he had one of his legs hooked around her waist. The demonstration never
involved actual penetration, and so Ned's erect cock was sticking out
perpendicularly, poking between Susan's thighs. The two of them were red with
embarrassment.
"You're on top in this position, ladies,"
lectured Mr. Palmer. "You control the action. Brace yourself with your
arms and thrust yourself back and forth." Susan did her best to
illustrate, hyper aware that what everyone was looking at was the way her pussy
lips kept kissing up to the underside of Ned's rigid cock, with a clear glaze
of precum running down from the tip.
"But you boys have to help," Miss Latimer
chimed in. "Use your leg and your free hand to guide your partner's
movement." Presumably, that's what Ned was trying to do.
"You can also use your hand to stimulate her
manually," Mr. Palmer continued.
"To gently caress her clitoris and her
tits," Miss Latimer explained. Susan's slit was already glistening. Ned
brought his hand up and teased it gently.
"Although you can't so easily reach her nipples
very well in this position," Mr. Palmer clarified.
"Unless you try," said Miss Latimer, a bit
sarcastically, and more to Mr. Palmer, than to us. Ned reached up and easily
petted Susan's tit. Mr. Palmer blushed. We loved the way that the two of them
bantered back and forth during the demonstrations. It was pretty clear that
they tried out all the positions themselves ahead of class, and chose the final
9. We liked to think that underneath their no-nonsense demeanors, they were
really kind of sweet on each other.
"The main thing, boys," Miss Latimer went
on, leveling with us now, in her sincere, if-only-someone-had-told-us-when-we-were-eighteen
voice, "is to make sure to provide your partner with what she needs.
That's the real secret of coupling. She's listening to a different drumbeat
than you are. Try to remember that. Do your best to pick up on it, too."
Even though Ned's cock and Susan's pussy were only
in superficial contact, her thrusting and his petting did indeed seem to be
striking the right chord. She had her eyes half closed and was no longer paying
any attention to the instructors, or to her audience. A good demonstration can
be more sexually arousing than a porno movie, and pairs of students were distracting
each other.
“Pay attention to the demonstration, students!” Mr.
Palmer barked. “You wo
0 min
November 30, 2025 An Itsy-Bitsy, Teenie-Weenie
An Itsy-Bitsy, Teenie-Weenie
Too small a swimsuit?
Based on a post by Tarnished Penny. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Brazen.
That was the word, Maeve thought, right out of some ancient
Greek story, like The Odyssey; a 'brazen' sky. She smiled a little, thinking
that her English teacher, Mrs. Pensey, would be pleased by her remembering.
Her smile didn't last too long, for this sky was
beyond hot. It lay like a low, searing bronze lid over the town, the oven-like
temperatures scarcely relieved by the odd feeble twitch of stale, dusty breeze.
Air conditioners across the region wheezed in failing attempts to keep up. The
demand had become so high that the electrical system was struggling and
consumers had been warned of possible rolling service interruptions to avoid a
complete collapse. Records weren't being broken, not quite, but the last time
it had been this hot for this long had been almost a century ago. People moved
noticeably slower outside, speeding up as they neared buildings known to be
cool inside. There were reports of families sleeping overnight in their cars to
take advantage of vehicle air conditioners and the town council had activated
an emergency cooling plan for the poor and elderly, with cots being set up in
local gyms and arenas. Tempers were fraying and, after a couple of spectacular
brawls in parks and bars, the police had announced an increased presence on the
north-east end of town.
Maeve, wearing just panties, groaned in frustration as she
tried again to adjust the sweep of the fan sitting on the floor in front of
her. Irritatingly, the fan refused to be set to aim in just one direction; it
insisted on swinging back and forth, leaving her swaying from side to side in a
futile effort to stay in the cooler air stream. It wasn't that much of a fan in
any case; her parents had passed it to her when they got a larger one. Air
conditioning was not on the cards in this household.
Maeve lifted her heavy tits to cool the sweat-soaked crease
beneath them. The fan responded by dying altogether, its blades gradually
slowing to an infuriating halt. She reached for the switch, played with it,
moaning in frustration when it refused to so much as groan in apology.
Angrily, she stomped down the hall to her parents' bedroom.
Her mother was at work and her father out of town for the week on a freight run
to Florida; they could share for an hour.
As she entered the curtained bedroom, she flicked at the
light switch. The lights stayed off. She fiddled with the switch a couple of
times before realizing that the power must be out. She swore a most unladylike
oath, then doubled down when her phone down the hall started ringing.
"Maeve?" It was her BFF Tanya; "Have you got
power?"
"No such luck. It just went out."
"Damn it, girl, what are we going to do? I'm dying over
here."
"Cold showers?"
"Not funny."
"The mall?"
"I can see it from my place. Power's out there, too.
People are leaving and they're not letting anyone back in. How about the
Memorial Pool?"
"It'd be crowded." Maeve said, then paused.
"But, wait. They still have those spray coolers, right?"
"Did last week. And it's an adults-only timeslot. No
freaky kids screaming."
"Okay, then."
"You should wear that new bikini you bought," Tanya
giggled. "The yellow spotted one."
"You're kidding, right?" Maeve hadn't adjusted to
the thought of being seen in public wearing the abbreviated outfit.
"Anyway, I didn't buy it; you bought it for me on a dare."
"Which," Tanya snickered, "you didn't
refuse at the time."
"You never asked."
"Okay," Tanya said; and Maeve could hear
the grin over the phone; "I'm asking, daring, you now!"
She had Maeve hooked; and both girls knew it.
"So, um, what would you be wearing?" she dodged.
"Something appropriate." Tanya dodged back.
"Well," Okay," Maeve said. "I'm too hot
to argue. Pick me up in 15? Mom's taken the car to work."
"Can't. My brother took ours up to the hills to go
camping."
"That means walking like 12 blocks in this heat, Tanya."
"It's that or melt, Maeve. I'll see you there at 2,
sharp." Not giving Maeve time to reply, the girl hung up.
Maeve took the bikini out of her drawer, still in the store
bag. As she looked at the scraps of bright fabric in her hands, she felt a
stirring inside her, a sense of excitement, like a child stealing peaches from
a neighbor's orchard.
She peeled off her damp panties, letting them fall to the
floor. Tying the side ties of the G-string bottom, she slid it up her legs and
over her bottom. The triangle, while covering her sex completely, was no bigger
than her palm.
The ties, of course, covered nothing.
At least there isn't a camel-toe, she thought,
looking at herself in the mirror.
She tried the top on next. The small triangles of cloth just
barely covered her and her nipples were obvious despite the thin padding. She
put her hands under her tits and hefted them, adjusting the fit. Turning back
and forth in front of her mirror, she frowned and slipped out of the garment to
readjust a tie. Putting it back on, she turned back and forth, smiled wickedly
in spite of herself. Damn, but that looks hot!
Maeve considered a fashionable pair of sandals but
reconsidered when she realized how thin the soles were and opted for a pair of
sneakers. She slipped a thin, knee-length sundress over the bikini and found a
broad straw hat. Even so, by the time she reached the pool, her feet were
burning and she had perspired enough that she looked as if she had been dipped
in baby oil. Her small bag, containing little more than sun-screen, a towel and
a bottle of water, seemed to weigh a ton in the heat.
Finally, she reached the shady entranceway and pushed a bill
through the till at the cashier before moving through into the pool area. On
her way, she pulled her sun dress over her shoulders, feeling the hot sun on
her back and legs.
Only then did her problems really start. From inside the
office came a thin, annoyed voice.
"You can't wear that here! Put something on that's
respectable."
Emerging from his burrow was McGregor, the pool supervisor,
a gaunt, grey, sour man. Rumor had it that he'd once smiled at his mother, but
few believed it. His normally choleric disposition had not been improved by the
heat. As Maeve watched, a drop of sweat trickled off his forehead and oozed
down through his eyebrow. The girl watched its progress as it entered his right
eye. McGregor winced and rubbed it with a forefinger.
"You heard me," he said.
"What?" Maeve said, looking down at herself.
"Why not? Everything's covered, isn't it?"
"Look, missy, I run the pool for the town. One of my
jobs is to keep things orderly here. And I'm saying that swimsuit isn't
acceptable dress."
"So, you won't let me in wearing this? You won't let me
go swimming? In this heat?"
"No way." The old man shook his head.
"But I walked 12 blocks to get here!" the girl
wailed.
"Should've considered the dress code first."
"What dress code? The sign just talks about showering
and spitting."
"Common sense, young lady."
"Please?"
"No. Not with that suit on."
The frustration boiled out of Maeve. "Fine, then. You
won't let me in with it, then I'll go without it!"
The girl could hear Tanya giggle behind her, but was angry
enough to carry through with her threat. Given the nature of the suit, it took
only a couple of seconds to pull the ties and step clear of the falling cloth.
McGregor's eyes bulged in astonishment.
Maeve had never considered herself centerfold material, but
what she had, she now bared with flaming, righteous indignation. Covered in
perspiration and flushed with anger, she blazed like a Celtic warrior princess
before battle. She stomped her foot in anger, sending her tits bobbing in the
hot sun.
"Come on!" she shouted. "Throw me out
now!" She snatched up her suit from the ground and made as if to step
around the befuddled pool manager.
McGregor started to reach for her, then paused. Maeve could
almost read his mind; Wrestling a naked 18-year-old girl in public. Not a
good image. He jerked back his hand as if it had been burned.
"I'll have you thrown out!"
"By whom?"
McGregor paused for a second. "The lifeguards," he
said.
"Walter?" She chuckled and swiveled her head
around to look at the sunburned guy melting on the high chair under the
broiling sun. "I don't think so." She waved at him. The guy's flushed
skin wasn't entirely due to the sun. He pretended to be watching swimmers
already in the pool, but she could see his eyes bulging out as they were drawn
to her form.
Walter was one of the most common topics of discussion among
half of Maeve's schoolmates. It was the solid consensus among the female
students that Walter was just about the best-looking guy in town. Tall,
graceful, with a baritone voice and eyes as blue as his hair was black, he
could have had a date with any girl there by merely raising an eyebrow. Some of
her peers, Maeve knew, had taken up swimming just to be able to ogle the young
man's sculpted form on his lifeguard chair.
Sadly for Walter, and his distaff classmates, he was
painfully, devastatingly shy with women, to the point some girls had questioned
his orientation. Maeve was in the larger, more hopeful camp, the ones who felt
he was merely socially awkward and could be 'helped'. In any case, she was
pretty sure she was safe from being evicted by the shy young man.
The other lifeguard was Tiffany, even smaller than Tanya;
Maeve wasn't much worried about her, either.
"I'll call the police!" McGregor threatened.
"Go for it," Maeve snorted. "I think they've
got better things to do."
Mr. McGregor looked around for support. Instead, he saw
another couple shedding swimsuits. The woman sat down with her feet in the
water and watched Maeve; the man dived into the water before surfacing and,
treading water, watching the drama unfolding. Both were smiling broadly. The
woman's tits showed no tan lines; could it be they did this all the time?
As Maeve watched, water from the cooling spray collected on
another man's chest and slowly trickled down to his groin. The girl watched it
for a second, awaiting its inevitable fall from.
Maeve had a sudden inspiration, something she'd read
web-surfing only the day before. She shook her head to shake the image of the
man across from her and broke into a brilliant smile.
"After all, Mr. McGregor," she beamed. "It's
National Nude Day. Progress never stops."
"What?" the man almost screamed. "National what
Day? There's no such thing!"
"Certainly there is," Maeve grinned. "You can
google it, Mr. McGregor. It's a national celebration." To emphasize her
point, she arched her back, thrusting her bare tits up and forward at the dazed
caretaker.
Behind her, she could hear the sounds of other people
starting to laugh and from somewhere came a supporting whistle. McGregor had
never been well-liked and it was too hot for rulebooks. More people started
taking off their clothes.
"Come on, Tanya," she snorted.
Tanya had already doffed her bikini. Pushing between the
others, she handed it to McGregor in passing. The old man looked at the handful
of colorful fabric in disbelief then dropped it as if it were toxic. He spun
around and almost sprinted away. The sound of his office door slamming echoed
across the pool. A moment later, he exited and headed for the parking lot. His
car left seconds later, spraying gravel as it went.
Maeve dropped her suit and bag on a chair, stepped up onto
the low board and dove into the pool with a clean forward pike. She was
surprised at the delicious feel of cool water on areas which had never felt
bare swimming before. I was made for this! she realized with delight.
She was still more surprised when her head surfaced. Every
person in the crowded pool was applauding her.
Except Walter.
With nudity breaking out all around him, Walter wasn't quite
sure where to look. His eyes locked on Tanya, all five feet of her, topped with
short red hair, and with, as the saying goes, a rug matching the drapes. Tanya
caught him looking at her and pointedly blew him a kiss. Walter blushed and his
eyes darted away, almost in panic. But he couldn't look away from the
increasingly-unclad bodies in the pool, for watching was his job.
The guy's growing panic was almost palpable.
Pretend we're on the Net, Walter, Maeve snickered to
herself. I'm sure you've looked at boobies on your phone!
Then she had a better idea.
Waiting until Tiffany was occupied, she slipped under the
water in front of Walter's chair, then emerged with a loud splashing about.
"Cramp!" she yelled, before allowing herself to
sink back under the water.
Walter's training kicked in and he was off his perch in a
clean dive. Two stokes had him up to Maeve. He got too close; the girl grabbed
him. There was a brief wrestling match, which Walter of course won; but in the
process, Maeve had his swim trunks down around his ankles.
In desperation, Walter kicked them off without thinking;
and, breaking loose from Maeve's grasp, towed her efficiently to the side.
"Don't panic!" he called. "You're safe! I've
got you!" Right out of the book.
Maeve smiled to herself, despite the discomfort of being
towed. Who's got who? she thought. Okay, whom?
Walter reached around and pulled her to the edge, putting
both hands on the concrete ledge. It was only then that he realized he was
missing something. He looked frantically around for a way out. Maeve cut him
off by taking both hands off the ledge, grabbing Walter's head, and turning him
in towards her. Leaning forward, she began a long, sensuous kiss, tongue
sweeping inside his lips.
In his panic, Walter let go to push her away, only to cause
both of them to slide under the surface of the deep water. He reached back with
one hand, using the other in a vain attempt to free his face. Maeve was
relentless and, almost without realizing it, his lips opened and Walter had his
very first tongue kiss.
Her tongue slipped inside his mouth and licked back and
forth. Unsurprisingly, even in the cold water, Maeve felt him react under the
surface. She pulled back, grinning at him as their heads broke the surface,
into the air.
"Thank you for saving me, Walter," she smiled, as
beguilingly as she could. "I might have drowned."
Walter's free hand left her face and wrapped around her
waist to hold her. "It's Okay," he said huskily. "I think you
would've made it."
"But I still have a cramp, Walter," she breathed,
her nose only six inches from his. She deliberately opened her eyes as wide as
possible.
"The book says to massage the cramp," he said.
Again, he paused. He was uncomfortably (Okay; delightedly, but still
uncomfortably) aware of Maeve's substantial bosom pressing against his chest.
He knew, beyond the ghost of a doubt, that his rubbing her bare leg out on the
pool deck, would have him hard as a rock.
Without his trunks.
In public.
"It's so hot by the pool," she said, batting her
eyes, "Isn't there a room, out of the sun; or something?"
It was about as transparent as, Come up to my room and
see my sketchings, but Walter wasn't thinking as well as he might.
They climbed out and Maeve managed to fake a creditable
limp. Scooping her up in his arms, Walter headed for the small first-aid room,
between the 2 changing rooms. He got a round of applause for his rescue from
the (now mostly bare) spectators. Most were so busy applauding, that they
overlooked his half-hard tallywhacker. Maeve merely leaned her head on his
shoulder.
It was an odd feeling, she thought, his strong arms carrying
her. She hadn't been carried like that since she was a little girl. It felt
comforting, and exciting, at the same time.
Tanya gave her a wink and a quick thumbs-up, as they passed.
Passing Tiffany, Walter called to her to cover his
monitoring duties for a couple of minutes; as he kicked the door open, carrying
the buck naked girl inside. Maeve had never been in the room before, but was
unsurprised to see it was fairly bare except for a glass-fronted supply cabinet,
full of bandages; and a cloth-covered exam table. A spine board and stretcher
hung off hooks mounted on the wall. A telephone was mounted on the wall next to
a list of emergency numbers. It was pleasantly cooler, and dim, with the only
light coming from a row of windows high up on one wall.
"Okay," he said, standing her back up and trying
to sound professional, "Lie down on the table, please."
Having the guy thoroughly off-balance by now, Maeve decided
to press her advantage. Holding his forearm with one hand, she hopped on one
foot towards the table. His eyes popped as he watched her hefty tits sway and
bounce.
"Help me, Walter!" she cried, leaning towards him.
Flustered and hardly thinking, his strong hands grabbed her; as she had planned;
by her bare ass. There was a split-second pause before he shifted his grip to
her waist. Gingerly, he helped her get up on the table.
She rolled over on her stomach. "It's my right
calf," she said.
Walter paused. "I thought it was your left," he
said, puzzled.
Oops! She thought to herself.
"No, it's my right," she whispered, as she spread
her legs as wide as the exam table would support. "Please! It really
hurts."
Gallantly, the guy began to stroke her right calf. Maeve
smiled to herself, her face hidden. She wiggled her round ass, just a little,
and could feel his stare. His hands stopped, then restarted, more slowly now.
She eased her legs a bit farther apart, giving her victim a much better view of
her glistening cunt lips. His hands stopped altogether.
A slight poke on her hip told her everything she needed to
know. Guided by that, her hand reached out and grasped something every bit as
impressive as she had been hoping.
"Hey!" he blurted. He tried to back away, but
risked leaving behind important and sensitive parts, in her firm grip.
Maintaining her grasp on him, Maeve rolled over and sat up,
smiling sweetly.
"Walter," she murmured, "I'll let go the
instant you tell me a second time. But you and I both know, that you truly don't
want me to."
Her free hand reached out, took one of his and brought it
slowly, gently towards her tit. While he didn't exactly cooperate, he didn't
resist either. She stopped just short of causing his palm to contact her stiff
nipple, then relaxed her grip on his wrist.
"You're strong and sweet and really good-looking,
Walter," she whispered. "Isn't it about time you let yourself
try?"
His eyes flipped up, to lock with hers. She released his manhood,
then with both hands she cupped her tits and lifted them towards him as an
offering.
"Go ahead, Walter," she said, almost inaudibly.
"They're made for handsome guys, as well as babies, you know."
She reached up one hand behind his neck, then took his head
and slowly pulled it down to hers before whispering into the guy's ear, "I
want you, Walter. Kiss me. Please."
She felt both his hands close on her tits, carefully
squeezing and lifting them. Deep within her, a fire began to glow.
His lips touched hers, tentatively at first. She ran her
tongue across them. After a moment, his mouth opened and the tip of his own
tongue swept lightly across hers.
Still holding his head in both her hands, she pulled their
mouths apart. "That feels very good, darling. Don't stop, please."
She pulled him back in for a longer, stronger kiss. Their tongues wrapped
around each other. She felt his cock twitch against her leg as his hands explored
her large tits.
‘He's so sweet!’ she thought to herself. ‘So cute.’
She reached down, grasped his ridged shaft, and began to
stroke it. The angle was wrong, but he was breathing heavier with each
movement.
She ran her other hand under and behind his balls, stroked
the back of his sack with one finger. His hands on her tits tightened, relaxed,
continued to move. He thumbed her now painfully hard nipples and Maeve felt
herself becoming wetter.
She pulled out of the guy's hands, slipped off the exam
table, and knelt in front of him on the floor. Pushing her long black hair out of
the way, she took his glorious phallus in both hands, and smiled up at him.
Walter's eyes were very wide, but there was a hopeful smile on his face.
"Walter," she smiled, "guys often need to be
slowed down a little, to make it fun for the girl. How about you let me help;
and just enjoy yourself?"
With that, she turned to the task at hand; for her, not so
much of a task as it was a treat. Given his age and this being his first time,
it wouldn't take long, she knew. Keeping her eyes on his, she began giving
broad tongue-strokes from base to crown. His cock pulsed in her hands and the guy
closed his eyes.
After a while she took his swollen crown in her mouth,
nibbling very gently with her white teeth, then, closing her lips tightly
around his shaft, she began sucking, softly at first, then harder, while
bobbing her head up and down on him.
As she expected, it didn't take long. The guy's hands
suddenly clasped at her head. His eyes popped wide open.
She paused, pulled back momentarily.
"Go ahead, Walter," she urged. "Have
fun."
‘Time to ruin this guy for every other girl in the
school,’ she smiled to herself. Fondling his balls with one hand, she began
to pump the loose skin over his shaft. Walter suddenly growled and she could
feel his seed pulsing up inside him. His hands tightened on her head. Pushing
his tip as far into her mouth as she could, she began swallowing as he erupted
inside.
The lifeguard’s cock finished shooting a full load, then
slowly sagged, and Maeve stopped her ministrations. Pulling off his cock with a
slight pop, she stood up and hugged him. His strong arms hugged back,
then began stroking up and down her back.
"How's my favorite lifeguard?" she whispered.
"Good. Real great." he replied, grinning shyly.
"That's good, hon, because we aren't finished
yet."
She could feel Walter's reaction to that by the rising
hardness between them. She also knew that the longer they stayed in the first
aid room, the more likely that somebody would interrupt. The thought of being
caught was a bit exciting, but she wanted; no, needed; to finish.
Maeve pulled out of his arms and spun around, bending over
the table. Even in the heat, the tabletop felt cool against her tits. She
spread her legs to give the guy a better view and turned her head over one
shoulder to smile invitingly at him. At the same time, she wiggled her ass in
his direction.
"I need you, Walter," she said in as sultry a
voice as her imagination could call up.
She could see control being passed from Walter's brain to
his mini-brain. One strong hand moved to hold her hip steady while the other
guided his revived cock home. She felt stretched, filled in that special way, and
so very pleased.
She knew his inexperience, knew she would have to take the
lead.
"Don't be gentle, Walter," she said softly.
"Sometimes I need gentle, but right now, I need you hard and fast."
Not being able to see his smile, she still knew he just had
to be pleased. His hands grasped her hips more firmly and she could feel his balls
bouncing against the backs of her thighs as he plunged in and out as quickly as
he could.
Maeve gasped as she felt Walter moving back and forth within
her passage. While he was not the most skillful lover, knowing that she was his
very first added both sweetness and exhilaration to the experience and she
began to buck backwards into him each time he pushed forward. She could feel
his fingers sink deeper into the flesh of her hips, his lunges becoming deeper,
more forceful.
Feeling her own release building within her but uncertain of
how long he could last, Maeve reached between her legs with on hand and began
working her clitoris. At her level of arousal, subtlety was hardly on the cards
and two fingers were immediately pressing, rolling and stroking her love bud.
"Go for it, Walter!" she panted. "Fill me.
Cum for Maeve!" If anything, his movements became more frenzied and the
girl could feel the table begin to shift across the tiled floor under the
pounding of his hips.
Suddenly she could take no more and cried aloud in her joy.
With that, the guy's body became rigid, only his length pulsing and throbbing
deep within her. She could feel their combined fluids running down her thighs
and gave a sweet smile of satisfaction.
Walter started to withdraw, but she reached behind with both
hands, grasped his hips and held him still.
"Not yet, dear," she sighed. "Girls just like
to be held at times like this."
In response, he bent forward at the waist and lean his chest
over her back. His hands left her hips and roamed over her sides. He petted her
head gently. In response, she turned her head as far as she could and felt his
lips touch hers. His tongue tip slid gently over her lips.
She felt him softening within her, eventually slipping out.
She stood up, turned around and gave the guy a strong hug before looking up at
him.
Time to preserve this afternoon in amber!
She stroked his lips gently with one forefinger. "Thank
you, Walter," she whispered. "You were amazing."
She could see the wonder and pride in the handsome guy's
eyes at her praise. He was about to say something when there was a quiet knock
at the door.
Tanya's voice came through the door. "You two Okay in
there?" Without waiting for an answer, she pushed on the door and entered.
The sight of the two naked forms holding each other tenderly had the diminutive
girl's jaw drop. Maeve grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in, bolting the
door behind them this time.
Tanya's nose wrinkled at the smell of sex. "Oh my
god!" she giggled. "You two are just crazy!"
It was Maeve who took the petite girl by the arm and pulled
her into a three-way hug with the stunned but unresisting Walter.
"Crazy?" she whispered. "Let's us show you
crazy!" She leaned down and gave the shorter girl a long, lingering,
sensuous kiss. Tanya's eyes popped wide open, then closed slowly as she began
to kiss back.
And the young lifeguard, his hands full of naked teenagers,
began to smile.
Based on a post by Tarnished Penny, for Literotica.
29 min
November 28, 2025 Poor Kaity
Poor Kaity
The world's most awkward school girl.
Based on
a post by NiceDayReboot. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Kaitlyn was
a charity case, and I knew it. Of course, I always held a sense of guilt about
that knowledge because I had to keep her from figuring it out. Oddly, for how
often I'd acted as a surrogate older brother to her, she was a year older than
me at nineteen. She'd been held back at least once to my knowledge, making her
a junior when I was enrolling in college full time. Kaity was a bit distraught
at the thought of me moving on and leaving her to fend for herself in her
remaining two (given her track record, possibly more) years of high school.
I should
probably point out that this wasn't her fault. She had some kind of condition
that left her both a little slow on the uptake, and bafflingly naive when it
came to social situations. I would have assumed Asperger’s or something,
but she wasn't actively antisocial. Far from it, she actively threw herself at
people with a witless enthusiasm that generally drove anyone with a sense of
self-preservation away. Add to that a conservative, very religious upbringing
and a complete inability to detect sarcasm, and it became quite clear how she'd
made it this far without friends to speak of, to say nothing of a boyfriend.
The few friends she did have were the type of socially unconscious girlfriends
you'd pick up through Sunday school, with the Christian charity to befriend the
poor dear and self-righteous enough to be persona non grata in any of the
popular social circles. For all the effort she had put into acquiring a
boyfriend, she couldn't seem to think of a use for one aside from holding hands
and filling in the required space on a well-adjusted high school student's
checklist. The few boys new and ignorant enough to accept her attentions
generally called it off after an awkward day or so, going on to insist that it
had never happened should anyone bring it up in the future.
Which left
me. When I came to high school as a sophomore, transferring in from another
school, I'd also been met with her amorous attentions within a week of my
arrival. Unlike most of her usual victims, I had the foresight to turn her
down. However, I'd used the "Let's just be friends" approach I'd
found effective at warding off unwanted advances in the past, citing that I
didn't know her well enough to date her. Kaitlyn took that literally, to the
point where I was abruptly transferred from potential token boyfriend to Best
Friend Ever without much say in the matter on my part.
Now I might
be genuinely antisocial. I don't hate people, per se. I just often find better
things to do with my time. So it was no small amount of trepidation that I
faced her daily enthusiastic greetings, surprise hugs and torrential reports on
anything that might have happened to her in the space of her attention span,
which was mercifully brief. I have to admit it was a bit embarrassing to be
greeted every day by my name squealed at the top of her lungs, usually
accompanied by a cheerfully spastic wave and an intense hug whenever she got
within range. But I wasn't trying to impress anybody, so I endured it with as
much friendliness as I could muster. Besides, she did squish pleasantly against
my chest whenever she hugged me, a pleasure somewhat mitigated by a habit of
forgetting to wear deodorant at least twice a week. Still, I often had to
dispense chaste "side-hugs" lest certain anatomical reactions betray
exactly how I enjoyed them.
My own
peculiar scholastic situation meant I only saw her at most twice a week,
spending the rest of the time in advanced or college level courses, to which I
was consigned despite my relative antipathy to studying. I may be a smartass,
but I never put much work into it. I owed most of my advancement to parents who
were constantly jockeying to have their "genius son" skip grades,
take advanced courses and whatever legal or illegal means would put me further
ahead of my peers. Despite that, it became pretty clear to me that I was
probably Kaity's only real friend. She never seemed to notice, but most people
went out of her way to avoid her. I couldn't really blame them either, I just
happened to be more susceptible to guilt than most, and letting her putter away
in all the wrong directions was easier than possibly hurting her feelings by
telling her how to fix herself. In hindsight, she may have been aware of the
situation to some degree, but I don't think her position really dawned on her
until her nineteenth birthday.
She invited
me, of course. She must have ended up inviting half the damn school. I was
wondering how she was going to cram all of these people into her house, let
alone feed them. It was supposed to be a pizza and pool party in her backyard
and she was expecting twenty or thirty people. So, when I rattled up her
driveway in my battered Mazda, I was a bit confused by the utter lack of
people. The confusion slowly turned to horror as I figured out what was going
on. It became pretty obvious as I let myself in that I wasn't just the first to
arrive: I was the only one to arrive. Kaity perched forlornly on a bar stool in
front of a counter laden with full pizza boxes, cake and assorted party snacks,
none of which had been touched. Her mother busied herself non-nonchalantly
about the kitchen, apparently unwilling to risk disturbing her daughter more
when she was obviously upset. I caught sight of her younger brother gazing
longingly at the food, wondering if it was ok to begin eating with no party
guests in sight. At the risk of embroiling myself in what was obviously an
awkward situation, I spoke up.
"Hey
Kaity! Sorry I'm late. Where's the party?" She perked up a bit as I
announced myself, and I caught a grateful glance from her mother as I tried to
salvage the occasion.
"No one
is coming." She let a bit of her melancholy show through her happiness at
seeing me, "My friends all had more important things to do than come to my
birthday,"
My eyebrows
rose involuntarily at hearing Kaity of all people resort to sarcasm.
"Well," I retorted, "To hell with them then. I know I'm worth
ten or twenty of them on a good day, so why not have a party of our own?"
I punctuated my declaration by leaning down and lifting her unruly dark hair
out of her eyes, giving her my best devil-may-care grin.
She
responded about at well as I could have hoped, giving me a hopeful smile
through tear-reddened eyes. "Okay."
Her mother
took advantage of the distraction immediately, shooting me another thankful
glance as she took charge, "Let's just have dinner then, we can go out
back later, maybe break out a movie or something once it gets dark out."
Despite the
poor turnout, I felt like I'd managed to bring enough life back into her for
the family to pick things up. We gathered round the pizza for her mom to say
grace. We talked more than ate, for once I felt like an actual friend, and a
bit more human than I'd felt in a while, struggling to help my naïve little
friend through the realization that most people didn't really want to be around
her when it really came down to it. Still, I made sure she had a good enough
time. Even her mother seemed to be in a rare good mood as she snagged some
pizza for herself. He little brother was in hog heaven, going to town on the
overabundant food like a starving man, which should have been a warning sign
that the disasters weren't over.
Not content
with going into a food coma like any sensible child, the little bastard decided
he wasn't feeling well and promptly threw up down my back. I was disgusted and
a bit outraged, feeling hot bile soaking into my clothes and listening to the
middle-schooler hacking up a storm. I might have felt a little sorry for him
had I noticed how red he was getting while I politely excused myself to change
into the swimming trunks I'd brought with me.
While I was
skinning out of my slimed clothes and tossing them into the family washing
machine, I caught some frantic raised voices and the slamming of the front
door. A few minutes later, a soft tapping at the laundry-room door prompted me
to finish pulling on my trunks and call out, "I'm decent."
I had my
back to the door, bent over the washer when Kaity walked in talking quickly,
"Mom's taking Kyle to the emergency room. She said it's ok if we used the
pool while she's gone."
Running over
that little non-sequitur, I choked out a surprised, "Wait, the Emergency
Room, why..." before I turned around and abruptly lost all will to
continue. Kaity was standing framed in the door, somewhat dopey smile still
showing on her face, in what had to be the smallest bikini in the county. In
her habitually loose clothing, I'd always assumed she was a little pudgy, but
her current attire was busy banishing such notions, as well as most rational
thought, from my mind. Strips of white fabric with black polka dots did a rather
poor job of covering curvy pale flesh, and I swore I could hear the strings of
her top humming with tension as they tried to restrain the snow-white balcony
which dominated the landscape, and certainly made a fair bid for my attention.
The sudden ringing in my ears drowned out whatever she had to say, forcing me
to stammer out, "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Oh, I
said he had an allergic reaction to the tomatoes. We got him a special pizza
without them, but he ate the wrong one." She answered, oblivious to the
effect she was having on me.
"Right."
I responded curtly, more like he'd eaten that one and then kept going. "Is
he going to be ok?"
"Mom
got him his epi-pen in time, but he's probably going to have to spend the night
in the hospital again. It's happened before, so he'll probably be fine."
She sounded like she was reassuring me for some reason. "So, you want to
go swim?"
For some
reason cold water sounded like a great idea just then. "Sure." I
responded, regaining some clarity. As long as I just kept looking at her eyes; she
turned around and I lost lock, my eyes dropping lower. I could see the presence
of some baby fat clinging to her belly, but those honestly impressive tits and
rolling hips served to even her out into an hourglass anyway. She was by no
means supermodel thin, but the figure she cut in that bikini was favorable
regardless. A fact that my mind only confirmed as I watched her stride dragging
her bikini bottom between her ass cheeks, revealing more beautifully rounded
pale ass cheek with every step. I barely made it halfway down the hall when the
evacuation of blood from my brain was answered by a swelling elsewhere. My
rising cock twitched, tenting the fabric of my swim trunks too obviously for me
to play off. I fought off a little irrational panic as I tried to free it by
tugging at my waistband. No such luck. Please don't turn around I, thought
futilely in Kaitlyn's direction.
Telepathy
not being the most reliable of methods, she chose just that moment to look back
at me with that silly fucking grin. She stopped walking when she saw my
mortified expression, then saw the reason why I looked so embarrassed, her
hands flying up to cover her mouth as she gasped and turned the rest of the way
around.
We both
stood at a loss for words as the awkward pause grew and my face only got more
red. Then again, so did hers.
"Chris;
" She broke the silence hesitantly, "Is that your; your; penis?"
She almost whispered that last word fearfully, and I felt the irrational urge
to face palm.
"Yes."
I said dumbly. "Look, can we sit down for a moment? This is really
awkward."
"Uh,
sure." She very distractedly led me into the closest room, which happened
to be her bedroom, a fact which only heightened my discomfort, although I
didn't want to explain to her why. She sat down on the bed, and I couldn't find
any other place to sit, so I sat on the bed a few feet from her.
By this
time, my erection had decided to tangle itself in the netting of my trunks and,
despite the embarrassment it was causing, showed no signs of backing down.
Especially with Kaitlyn sitting so close and staring at it so fixedly. I tried
to fix it as subtly as I could, given the circumstances, but the stupid netting
only conspired to pinch the head, making me wince involuntarily.
"Does
it hurt?" she asked, and I abruptly wondered if she was doing this on
purpose. I managed to mutter an apology.
"Sorry,
it's like this being a guy. Sometimes you see someone; something and it's kinda
got a mind of its own."
"So; I
did that?" She asked with some amazement, once again leading me to believe
she was fucking with me.
"Yeah,
I mean, sorry. I don't think of you like that or anything, it’s just
you're very attractive and..."
She cut me
off, this time she was blushing, "I'm attractive?" She seemed genuinely
surprised that I'd admitted it.
Taking a
refuge in audacity, I responded, "Well yeah, when you come around wearing
that, and with the way it shows your body and stuff." Honestly this couldn't
get any more awkward if;
"Can, I
see it?" she whispered, bringing my train of thought to a screeching halt.
I stared at her mutely for a long moment, before some impulse in my brain
pushed me over the edge. I slid my shorts down around my ankles, freeing my
cock and letting it stand free and in plain sight. I looked at Kaity to see her
go furiously red, bite her lower lip and unconsciously cross her legs.
"Kaity?"
I asked, worried I'd gone too far, reaching over to touch her shoulder. She
twitched in reaction before tearing her eyes away from my erection.
"Looking
at me gave you that?" She said in a tone of disbelief. I was about three
seconds from calling bullshit. There was no way she was that naïve.
"Kaitlyn;
you're a virgin?" She nodded slowly, looking me in the eye. "But you
at least had sex ed, right? Right?"
"No.
Mom called the school when she heard it was happening and got me excused."
Oh. My.
Fucking. God. "Oh, Kaity. So you've never seen a; man naked before?"
Her face answered the question for me, and I noticed her hands clutched
white-knuckled behind her back. "Would you like to touch it?" She
looked at me like a dear in the headlights, a mixture of shock and guilt in her
eyes before she looked back down and extended a hand gingerly towards my groin.
Cool knuckles grazed the curve of my shaft before she pulled her hand back as
if it had been burned.
I gave her
my best patient smile, becoming less embarrassed for me and more for her by the
second. "Here." I took her hand and guided it back to my cock,
wrapping her fingers around my girth and feeling myself shiver at the soft
touch. I looked back at her, "Have you never masturbated before?"
She seemed
too distracted by the feel of my warmth in the palm of her hand to be taken
aback by the question. "No, I; it doesn't feel right!"
Once again I
felt something like pity for the poor repressed girl. I edged closer until our
thighs were together, forcing her to straighten up to keep her hand on my cock,
which she did without thinking.
Fair's fair,
I wrapped an arm around her to cup a tit through the bikini. "Here, let me
show you."
It was her
turn to shiver as I stroked her through the soft fabric, when she didn't
protest, I made sure my other hand found a tit and softly squeezed.
"Stroke my cock a little, Kaity."
She blushed
at the profanity, but her hand started to gently rub my shaft and she
stammered, "Like, this?"
In answer, I
leaned in and kissed her, my lips leaving hers after only a moment to trail
down her jawline before finding the sweet spot behind her ear. A nibble here, a
lick there, and I was rewarded by feeling her breathing increase. Her arousal
manifested in other ways too, as my hands found her nipples beginning to show
through her bikini. I caught one and rolled it between my fingers, and her
breath caught in her throat.
I let my
other hand fall to her lap, only to find myself denied access by her
reflexively crossed legs. "Kaity." I prompted into her ear as my hand
wormed itself between her thighs to stroke her through the fabric. I could
instantly feel the profile of her swelling clit through the cloth, and I
massaged it gently.
Kaitlyn was
still somewhat hesitant in her attentions towards my cock, although it hadn't
stopped swelling the entire time. By now I was almost painfully erect, and
there was no way her hesitant fingers were going to ease that, no matter how
welcome they were.
I disengaged
myself from Kaitlyn smoothly, and she opened her pleasure numbed eyes in
chagrin as I stopped stroking her. I just smiled mischievously, "Lie back
and open your legs." I commanded. She inhaled sharply, looking a little
worried.
"But,"
I cut her off before she could say another word, "Don't worry, just lie
back." I eased her gently down, letting my mouth trail down her body as
she went, latching onto one of her nipples and sucking on it through the
fabric, enjoying the way her arching back drove her down faster.
I
reluctantly released her tit and turned my attentions towards the joining of
her legs, where her tightly closed thighs still denied me access. What was the
old saying? Persuasion is better than force? I kissed her belly button before
driving my mouth eagerly towards her locked thighs, forcing my tongue between
them to feel the swelling of her pussy lips through the polyester. When my lips
found the soft protrusion of her clitoris and latched on like a suckling baby,
Kaity let out an explosive gasp and her legs parted involuntarily. I lifted up
her ass to position myself better, getting my head between her legs before I
began to feast on her slit in earnest. Even through the fabric I could feel
both my saliva and her wetness begin to soak through her bikini bottom as the
swelling of her pussy started to engulf the fabric. I decided to speed up the
process by tugging her bottoms up so they slipped inside her, pressing down on
her clitoris while giving me more flesh to lick and suck. Her hips started to
buck roughly against my face, so I pulled the fabric aside and pressed my mouth
into her cunt, eager for the flood I was sure would come next.
Kaitlyn
didn't disappoint me, wrapping her legs around my head and cumming
convulsively, letting wave after wave of delicious nectar find my tongue. I
sucked it up greedily, admiring her taste and the musky smell of her pleasure.
When she finally released her death grip on my head, I rolled off the bed,
dragging her ass down with me. Still somewhat limp from the power of her
orgasm, she rolled with it, putting her ass in the air invitingly.
My cock
twitching in anticipation, I slid her bikini down off her legs, letting my fingers
find and play with her cunt as I balled up the soaking garment and tossed it on
the bed. My fingers slipped in and out of her easily, her slick pussy coating
them generously, prompting Kaity to moan into the mattress. As I withdrew my
fingers reluctantly, she looked over her shoulder dreamily, "Are you going
to put it in?"
I grinned at
her, my cock in my hand, and started rubbing my head between her pussy lips.
"Am I going to put what in?" I asked, as innocently as I could, given
the circumstances.
She bit her
lip before asking, "Are you going to put your penis in?"
"My
what?" I feigned confusion as I pushed my cock between her legs and let it
drag back across her pussy. Her cunt was practically twitching, dripping down
her leg as she finally grew brazen enough to demand, "Put your cock in
me!"
"There's
the slut I've been trying to bring out!" I said cheerfully, and pushed my
shaft slowly into her. She moaned and grabbed handfuls of bedding as I eased
in, mindful of her virginity. To my surprise, I didn't meet the resistance I
was expecting. There was no sensation of popping a cherry, and she certainly
didn't seem to be in pain. Well, I did remember reading somewhere that not all
girls lose their hymen only during sex. I pushed the distraction aside as I
focused on the pure sensation of pushing into her. I started a rhythmic pumping
and reached up to drag her bikini down off her tits, grabbing and fondling the
knockers as I pressed into her. She started to push back against every thrust,
eager for my cock, seeming to forget her earlier shyness.
Her moans
gathered in intensity, to the point of becoming embarrassingly loud. I was
abruptly glad we were alone in the house. I must have been spared the intensity
of her cries during her first orgasm by the thighs clamped around my head with
hysteric strength. She started clamping down with those thighs again,
tightening around my shaft. My self-control began to erode, and I leaned into
her, trading distance for shorter, faster strokes and squeezing her tits like I
was trying to milk them. She pushed back into me and cried out, panting her way
towards climax.
True to
form, that was the time we heard a car door slam and we both stopped dead.
Moments later, the front door opened, and frantic footsteps made their way
through the living room. Kaity's mother called out, "Kaity? Chris? You
still in here?"
In the heat
of the moment, neither of us had thought to close the door to Kaitlyn's Room. I
started to pull out of her, only to have her moan softly and close the distance
again, keeping me inside her. Had she gone crazy? Rather than prompt her mother
to come looking for us, I answered her.
"Yeah,
we're in here. Kaity's just showing me her," I looked around for something
plausible, "Warrior Cats books." I added somewhat more softly to
Kaitlyn, "Right?"
Thankfully,
Kaitlyn managed to muster up the composure to call out, "Yeah mom, we're
alright." Before her mother could get suspicious. Again I attempted to
extract myself, only to provoke a soft cry that stopped me and my heart dead.
"I'm
only here for a minute, I just had to get Kyle's medicine. The doctors need to
know what else he's allergic too. He's doing fine, but they want him to stay
the night." Her Mom was rustling through some cabinets in the kitchen.
Kaity called
back, halting a little bit to pump herself back onto my cock, "Okay mom, huh,
tell him I hope he's feeling better." I was looking down at Kaitlyn with a
mixture of anger and admiration. The crazy bitch still wanted to go, with her
mother in the house! Well fuck it! I thought, I was game if she was, but the
moaning had to stop, her mom would have to be deaf not to hear it. I pushed
Kaity forward onto the bed until I could reach the first thing that came to
hand. I tapped her on the shoulder and presented it to her before shoving her
balled up and soaking bikini bottoms into her mouth. Before she could do
anything about it, I yanked her ass back with me until she was hanging off the
edge of the bed, both hands occupied with holding her up and her tits dangling
in the empty air. I set into her again, at the same pace as before, letting the
new position giving me more length to the stroke, but no less speed for that.
For her part she pushed back against me as firmly as she could without falling
off the bed. Thankfully that wasn't much, otherwise her mother would have been
alerted by the slapping of balls against sopping pussy!
Somehow, the
combination of tasting her own arousal and the excitement of how risky our
position was drove her quickly over the edge. Her cunt tightened around my
shaft and she started shaking, the strain of the position making her knees
weak. I caught her by the hips before she could buckle, letting my cock be
pushed out by the rush that soaked my crotch and dripped down her legs to
puddle on the floor. Still desperate to cum, I pressed her thighs together and
slipped my cock between them, pumping desperately to my own climax. I felt my
balls tighten up and pushed through her legs one final time before I tensed
every muscle in my body and my semen boiled out to splash in a sudden jet
against her belly, splashing against the undersides of her tits before trailing
off to cover her thighs in my cum. She collapsed weakly against the bed, and I
followed suit, spooning her with my arms wrapped around her waist.
Her mother
called from the door, "Alright hun, I'll probably be at the hospital the
rest of the night, make sure you get to bed at a reasonable hour! And make sure
Chris gets safely home, too!"
Kaitlyn spat
out her bikini to answer, "Yes Ma, Love you." before the door
slammed. She looked back at me, "This is gonna change things, isn't
it?"
"Yes."
Was all I could manage.
"Good."
Based on
a post by NiceDayReboot, for Literotica.
30 min

About My First Time

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Tales of experiencing that first time. Some of them may be true.

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My First Time

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About My First Time