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Patrick and Angie: A Story a First Foray into Sexuality: Part 1

Authors note: Sometime about twenty-five years ago, I decided to try my hand at writing erotica. But the first question was, what to write about. I read somewhere that would be writers needed to write on what they know about. 


So, around Y2K, I began a series of stories based on my own life. The resultant tales cannot be properly called historical, nor can they be called fiction either. Rather they are distilled memories of my life and the life of friends and family during those heady days between the sexual revolution of the late 60’s and the backlash of the 80’s.  If I were writing these for a movie, the title card would say “based on a true story”. 


If you are one of the people who has been with me since the start of this website, this might seem familiar since back in 2020 I posed another one of these stories “Pat and Twyla: A Story of First Love.” And notably, it was the first time I tried my hand at 3D-rendered illustrations. This story takes place a couple of years before that one. As I went back to edit the story I’d written 20+ years ago, it brought back some real emotional memories. This first part is nearly entirely autobiographical and interestingly, it was writing roughly halfway between today (3/16/2024) and when these events took place in the spring and summer of 1975. As such, many of the things I wrote were still rattling around in my head from those events but are now gone. The truth is today, I can’t actually tell what is fiction and what is what really happened. Yet, I’m pretty sure the things you will read in this post are nearly all factual.


You won’t be able to miss some themes and even details that you have seen in In Search of the Final Freedom. That is because the series of which this is a part the test beds for both style and content. Basically, Final Freedom was me taking the ideas from my real life and spinning them into a much longer and richer story.


I hope you will enjoy a journey into my past… with some embellishments (later on).

 

 

Patrick and Angie: A Story a First Foray into Sexuality


 



The 8th grader was flustered but thrilled.  She was clearly talking to him. Why? He hadn’t a clue, girls never even noticed him, let alone talked to him. With a combination of a spark of his own self-worth and a surge of adolescent hormones Patrick just let it take him for a ride.

 

The Commodore’s song Brick House was wrapping up in the Shackelford Junior High school cafeteria, now acting as disco hall. It was the spring of 1977, disco was king; but Patrick, a self-proclaimed nerd, didn’t listen to disco, he much preferred what he and his friends called ‘real’ rock’: Cream, The Stones, The Beatles and such. Through the heavy bass she tried to communicate with him. He aggressively rejected all things disco and wore his hippy clothes with pride, if to the derision of the ‘in’ crowd, but now a girl said she wanted to know if he wanted to dance.  He only knew her from an Algebra class they shared. Her name was Angie, and she was a 9th grader and sat in the second row on the left.  The only time he’d spoken to her was on two occasions when Mrs. Wilcox had put them in the same review group for the two days at the end of the first semester.   She had been nice, but as always he was shy and tried to just blend into the background.

 

Angie on the other hand was bubbly and friendly, but not too good at Algebra, at which Patrick was a whiz, so she drew him into the study group despite his reluctance. Though he tried to not let it show, her kindness to him on those two occasions had hit a nerve in the shy but studious boy. A girl noticed him and was nice to him. That was a first. For a good month after that, she filled his mind during his marathon masturbation sessions that took him late into the night. 

 

It was not that Angie was a knock-out because she wasn’t. Perhaps her plainness was what gave him the courage to fantasize about her. Her plainness and the fact she, like him, favored the oversized, out-of-fashion clothes of the pre-disco era.  She was about 5’ 2” and, though not fat or even big, but in the old army jacket she usually wore, she was more round shaped, or was she normal sized but being short it just appeared that way. Patrick had absolutely no experiences on which to base any conclusions. The only naked girls he’d seen came from his stash of his dad’s Playboys and Penthouses he’d absconded from a box in the hall closet.

 

It was the mid-70’s, the sexual revolution was at its height. His sex-ed course at Shackleford Junior High, in a Dallas suburb, taught all the good things about sex but hardly even mentioned the option of abstinence that two decades later would become the only topic in that kind of course. His favorite female teacher, the assistant debate team coach, wore skintight jumpers to evening practices at school. Her outfits showed off her hot body in quite vivid detail much to the delight of Patrick and his buddies. And since AIDS, would not appear for several more years, recreational sex was very much seen as normal and positive.  On the other hand, it was long before cable, the internet, and before over-the-air TV even touched nudity or sex.  So sex was seen as positive and open, but at the same time, access to sexual material for fourteen-year-old boys was as difficult as it had been a generation before.  As such, Patrick longed to try out his newly acquired sexual equipment but, given his age, shyness, and lack of macho, it seemed like a remote dream.

 

At the dance that night, Angie looked better than he ever remembered her in class. The hip-hugger jeans and cable knit sweater she wore indicated that rather than being shaped like a potato, she had a slim waist with massive tits. Even in his naiveté, he could tell that she just wore baggy clothes to hide that fact.

 

All these thoughts raced through his mind in the seconds after she made her way through the crowded school cafeteria following her surprise invite for Patrick to dance with her. Hiding both his surprise and his excitement, Patrick just said “Sure” and she led him out to the dance floor, which of course was just the middle of the cafeteria.  Her take charge attitude toward their dancing as the opening bars of “Staying Alive” blared, was a relief to him.  He and Angie lined up with the others and began to go through the steps of “The Hustle” which he had learned last year in gym class.  This was one of the two disco songs to which he had learned the steps. He tried to swagger and strut, but he just felt silly. Angie did not seem to think he looked as silly as he felt though.  


He was relieved when the next song was “Three Times a Lady”, a slow song.  This wasn’t the first time he’d slow-danced with a girl, but it was the second. The other time had been in 7th grade, and back then he didn’t have a six-and-one-half inch penis, rock hard, filling the front of his pants (and yes, he had measured it more than a few times).   How could he help getting a boner, she pulled him close, so her breasts pressed against his chest.  He was aroused but mostly scared, what was he to do now? Songs came and went. Most were fast songs, but the slow songs were the best. The longer they danced the more she rubbed up on him, even holding his butt in her hands, to which he reciprocated by running his hands over the taught denim of her behind. He explored looking for panty lines, but found none. Was she panty-less? (readers should know this was long before the advent of thong panties) He knew he’d felt her bra strap under the sweater, but … no panties? WOW!


On the fourth slow song he got up the courage to cup her right breast over the sweater. He tensed waiting for rejection, but instead she looked into his eyes and, for the first time in his life, he got the “kiss me” look from a girl. He responded and he tried to follow her lead with lips and tongue, though he knew he must be the worst kisser ever.   They kissed off and on (when the chaperones were on the other side of the room) for an hour. He even managed to slip his hand down the back of her pants, and sure enough there were no panties and he touched her bare buns.


The dance ended and her father picked her up in front of the school, but not before she had put her hand full on the front of his pants to feel the stone shaft beneath his denim. “Can I call you when I get home?”


“Sure,” he replied. He quickly gave her the number to the ‘kids” phone at his house.  Byron had a younger sister and an older brother and together they used the phone so much his parents had installed a second line upstairs just for the kids. Patrick rarely used it. But tonight….”

His mom picked him up a few minutes later. Despite her persistent inquiries about his night, he only would cop to “I danced with a friend from my Algebra class.”


He still had not lost his erection when the phone rang in the upstairs hallway.  They talked for three hours, he was amazed. First he never talked to anyone on the phone for more than five minutes and he’d never talked to a potential girlfriend like that.  They talked again on Saturday and on Sunday and then … for the first time ever, he and a girl sat at lunch together. Well, he and Angie and her girlfriends: her 9th grade girl-friends. Did he now have a girlfriend?  He had arrived. In the world of junior high, there is a gulf between the 8th graders and the 9th graders who were actually high school freshmen, though they were still in the junior high building. Now he was spending time with 9th grade girls.


Each day at lunch they sat together and in the afternoon, as soon as he got home each day, they began talking on the phone and talked till his sister demanded the phone, which was at 5:00 every day. The first few days it was just mundane talk, but evidently she wanted to say more and on Thursday said “You kiss good. You really turned me on.” Patrick was taken aback, but not unpleased to hear what she was saying. He had wanted to ask what she had thought but was not going to bring it up. “Me too” he lamely replied.


“I know” she said in her normal perky voice “I could feel your hard-on every time we slow danced.”

“Really?” he was genuinely incredulous.


“Yes, really. How could I miss it, it’s not like you’re a shrimp.” Again Patrick was at a loss for words so he said nothing. After a few minutes of silence, Angie asked “Did I say something wrong?”

 “No” Patrick quickly retorted “It’s just, I….. I …. Just don’t know what to say. I’ve never talked to anyone like this before.”


“You mean you didn’t tell your friends you felt me up?”


“No, of course not. And it’s not like I went very far.” He said defensively.


“You didn’t have to tell them that part. But you didn’t tell them anything? I told my friends what we did.” She said, then added “And what I hope we will do.”


Once again, Patrick felt he was out of his depth and once again the more experienced Angie took up the slack. “Didn’t you like me? I know we didn’t do much, but I thought you liked touching me?”

Patrick, ready or not had to respond now, as he was sitting in the upstairs hallway, he talked very quietly and said “I mean, like, you have great tits, but I didn’t know if that was polite to say?”

“You like them? Really?” she asked.


“Hell yea, how could I not, they are amazing. It was so cool for you to let me touch them, it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done” he babbled on.


“If you liked that, next time though, you need to get a little more aggressive and I can promise I would have let you go further if you’d tried,” she said gently.


“Really?” He asked “You would have? Like how far?”


“I don’t know. It’s not like we could have gone all the way right there, I certainly was hoping you would have gone under my shirt, but there will always be next a time.”


Patrick tried to sound mature, and besides now he was turned on. “Yea, next time, I’ll be ready.”

“To do what?” she shot back.


His bluff was called. The truth was he hadn’t the slightest idea of what he would do. He hoped his saving grace would be the fact that he had read a lot of the stories in his dad’s magazines, he’d try to act like he’d thought them up. He didn’t know if they would be what she wanted but he didn’t have any other idea of what to say.  After moving as far down the hallway, away from his sister’s room, as the phone’s extra-long cord let him, he began quietly and tentatively “I’d kiss your neck and unbutton your shirt. Then I’d undo your bra…”


“I guess I should tell you, the only time I ever wear a bra is at school and stuff like that” she interrupted.


“Really? Your mom doesn’t make you or something?”


“Na, she doesn’t believe in them; women’s lib and all that. She didn’t buy me one until she got a call from school in 6th grade telling her that I needed to start wearing one.  She was going to make a big fuss about it, but my step-dad talked her out of it.”


“Wow, my mom is liberal but not that much. I’m sure she wouldn’t let my sister go around braless if she was built like you.”


Angie laughed but continued her line of thought “oh, and she’d had me on the pill since last spring.”


“Have you needed it?” Patrick asked, he had been curious how experienced she was.

She didn’t hesitate “Yea, right off I wanted to try out the sex thing, so I told this guy, Sam, who lived up the street that I was on the pill and wanted to try out sex. He was a senior and we went into his garage and he did me there, it was over in like three minutes.”


“Did you like it?” he asked.


“It was over so fast, I didn’t even get to begin to warm up. Then afterward, he was such a jerk about it, the next week he invited me over while his parents were out and we did it on the living room floor, but just like before it was over before it had even begun. And what was worse he changed the way he talked to me. I’d known him since I was like in 3rd grade and he’d always been nice, but after we did it the first time, he was just mean, like I was dirt. I let him do me one more time, but after that I told him no more.  I don’t think he talked to me once in the six months before he went off to college.  That kinda left me gun shy, or should I say dick shy.”


Patrick laughed.


“I decided that although my mom didn’t care if I had sex…”


“She knew?”


“Oh, yea, she and I are open about that kind of stuff. But she leaves those decisions up to me, and I decided I’d wait for a guy I really liked before I did it again.”


“So did you find a guy?” Patrick asked, hoping he knew the answer.


“Yea, he’s kinda a geek, but he’s really nice and my kind of guy. We are in the same algebra class.”


“A geek?” he asked playfully.


“Well, yea, but a cute geek, that has really grown up this school year.”


That he knew was true, not only had he outgrown two pairs of pants since the school year began, not to mention the fact he now was shaving once a month and that six-and-a-half inch thing had added something like the last inch. He decided to push his boundaries “I guess your last grab Friday night showed you how grown I’ve become.”


“Oh, I had noticed long before that, we had been dancing pretty close,” She cooed “I look forward to getting a closer inspection soon.”


Their conversation that day and the next few days became more explicit. Patrick knew he had to find some privacy, and had found a way to thread the phone cord around the corner so he could hole up in the storage room while he talked to his new, first, girlfriend.  Starting that very first time in the storage room, his right hand jacked off his dick while he held the phone with his left, though he was careful not to climax while she was on the phone, nor did he tell her what he was doing until on Tuesday night (almost two weeks after the dance) she said “Do you know that I touched myself, down there, the last two nights while we talk about sex?”


By then, his reticence had fallen to his excitement “I’ve been doing it too! Are you doing it now?”

“Yea,” she said.


“So am I, tell me what you’re doing?” he asked.


“We’ll take turns” she replied.


“Cool!”


“Well” she said taking a breath “I’m laying on my bed. I’ve taken off my panties and I’m rubbing my pussy. My clitoris is hard and feels really good.” 


In sex-ed, Patrick had gotten a 100% on the test that covered the female body parts and knew that the clitoris was important to a girl's arousal, but wasn’t sure what that exactly meant. He knew from reading his dad’s magazines that it was a good thing she was doing that.


“My nightshirt is pulled up to my waist. If you were here you would see me right out in the open. What about you?”


“Like I told you, there is no phone jack in my room, I’m in the storage room at the end of our upstairs hallway.  It’s a pretty big room, filled with boxes and a couple of old dressers just used to store things. I’m just sitting on the floor, with my jeans open and my dick pulled out.”


“What are you doing with it?” she asked.


“Moving my hand up and down it.”


“Like you were fucking me?”


“Yea, but it would be so much better doing it in you.” He surprised even himself when those words rolled from his lips.


“For me too,” she said earnestly, he thought he heard her breathing hard.


“Are you going to cum?” he asked. He knew the vocabulary far better than the real thing.

“Not yet, but soon,” she said “I think I’ll get naked, and imagine you are watching me.”


“I wish I were.”


There was a brief shuffling noise as she put down the phone. Muffled by the distance he heard her say. “I’m taking off my nightshirt,” then she evidently picked up the phone again. “I’m lying on my bed, completely naked, and my legs are spread for you.”


He could only gurgle an incoherent reply.


“Would you fuck me?” she asked “If you were here?”


“Oh yes.”


“For a long time?” her breaths were louder.


“Yes, for hours and hours,” he said though he had absolutely no idea if that was what really happened.


“Yes, for hours!” she repeated. “Fucking me for hours! It would feel so good!” as her breathing became louder. “Hang on, I need both hands.”


He could still hear her but not as clearly, her words became more disjointed and higher pitched “Yes. In me! Yes! Deep! ……. Yes ……. Cumming! …….ahhhh…. ahhh…..’ then the words were unintelligible for a bit before she evidently picked up the phone. She was breathing very hard “I put two fingers all the way in …….pretending it was you balling me……..damn it was good…… I came stronger than I have for months.”


He was furiously working his penis with his hand.


She spoke again after a minute or two, much more in control. “That was exciting. Did you hear me have an orgasm?”


Now it was his turn to be breathless “Yea, it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”


“Now, I want to hear you cum for me. Imagine you are standing over me watching me. You can see my titties and my pussy as you jack off.”


His orgasm exploded. He almost dropped the phone as the first convulsion spewed a long stream of milky fluid up across his chest to the dresser behind him.


“You came?” her voice came from the phone “You did. Didn’t you?”


That was the first of many sessions of what would, a decade later, be called phone sex. This became their only sexual contact for weeks. As it turned out it took till the end of the month before they got a chance to be alone long enough to put any of their words into action.


Patrick and Angie were both students at Lamar Junior High School, in a new and rapidly growing suburb between Dallas and Ft. Worth. The trouble was that she lived just a mile or so south of the school and he lived almost ten miles southwest of her. Since he was fourteen and she was fifteen, neither of them could drive. Finally, almost four weeks after the dance, Patrick got up early and rode his bicycle to school so that before heading home after school he could stop by Angie’s.  He knew if he didn't make it happen now, he would have to wait until she returned from New Jersey after spring break, which started after school the next day.


Riding his bike down a quiet street he took little notice of the neighborhood, focused only on the house numbers. As a teenager, he didn’t take any notice of the type or strata of suburban middle class her family inhabited. Had he noticed he would have known that, although he lived in a nice upper-middle class neighborhood, this neighborhood was decidedly more wealthy. What he did notice when he found the right house, was that her father (or step-father rather) was home, that seemed unusual. In Patrick’s world fathers worked executive jobs and were rarely home before six or seven o’clock. The man was on a riding mower, cutting their large lawn. It was spring, and in the Dallas area that meant it was hitting the high 70’s and even 80’s during the day and the grass had been growing for some time.


Angie answered the door, and right off he knew she had told the truth that she did not wear bras at home. She stood in the door with a crop top and cut-offs.  The hem of the crop top stood off from her bare midriff a good three or four inches. Competing for his attention were two nipple bumps in the light fabric of the top.  With her stomach bare, it was clear to Patrick that she, other than her tits, was actually thin. Contrary to how she appeared at school, her waist was very small. Had he been more experienced, he would have been able to articulate that her hips were also slim. What he did see, what he was drawn to was the fact that her bust dominated her figure. He did not realize he was staring at her tits until she said “I guess you like how I look”.


Embarrassed, he looked up and forced himself to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry…” he stumbled.

“Why? If you hadn’t noticed my tits, that would have been a reason to apologize.” And she moved in for a hard, deep kiss. He could feel the soft flesh of her breasts compress across his chest. He so wanted to just reach under her shirt and grab them, but he did not.


Several minutes and a good grab of her ass that was not quite contained by the nearly legless cut-offs. “Is this how you always dress at home?” he asked as she ushered him in. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sway of her big breasts just barely, tantalizingly out of his view.

“Well, not exactly. The shirt is really too small for me and I usually just wear it to bed, but I thought you would like it.”


“I do, lots,” he said smiling broadly.


“I can tell” she replied as he made an exaggerated look at the fly of his jeans which were stretched out as far as the denim would allow.  Once again, he was embarrassed, but this time he did not say anything.


Outside, he heard the mower motor cut off. Without waiting to explain, Angie grabbed a plaid sleeveless button-up that was lying on the back of the easy chair, and pulled it on over the crop top.


“Just a second,” she said hurriedly and rushed to the back door of the living room in which she had led him. “Wait here,” she said and rushed out grabbing a can of Pepsi as she went.

When she returned a few minutes later she apologized for the abrupt departure “I didn’t want my step-dad to come in and catch us doing something he’d go crazy about.”



Patrick was confused “But I thought your mom was cool with all that. You said she didn’t care what you wear and even got you on the pill.”


The mower started back up, and Angie crossed the room unbuttoning the overshirt as she went. “That’s my mom, and if she were the one here, I’d be naked inviting you to join me skinny dipping in the pool by now, but that’s my step-dad, Herb.” She motioned him to follower her to the back door.  “He’s not a bad guy, but he is pretty square.”


In those few sentences, she’d sent his mind reeling. First off, he had no experience with the idea of step-parents. To him that was just part of fairy tales.  But, the idea that she had an “evil-step-father,” seemed to be consistent with Snow White and Cinderella.  It was just so different from how he and his family lived. Even discounting that she would really go skinny dipping as hyperbole, the idea that her real mom and her mom’s husband had different rules was a new concept to him.

She took his hand and showed him the backyard with its pool then back in the house she took him down the hallway to her bedroom. She stood at the open door on her left. “This is my room.” It was done up with Pink Floyd posters and love beads over the closet door.  The bed, unmade, was incongruously, an antique looking full sized canopy bed, with stuffed animals strewn about its rumpled surface. On the floor were some clothes and a couple of books. She pulled him tight as they stood by the door, “That’s where I lay naked when we talk. I’d show you now but in my room, I might not hear if Herb turns off the mower.”


They went back to the large living room. She invited him to sit, before she removed the over-shirt and tossed it down. Standing in front of Patrick who sat on the couch, he could easily see under the short crop top at the bottom of two fleshy globes. He made to reach up under the hem of the short shirt to grab them but stopped short and laughed before taking his hands away.


The reality is that fourteen-year-old boys talk about sex, a lot; think about sex, a lot, and fantasize about sex, a lot; however, when it comes to doing those things, they are scared to death.  So when Patrick was presented with Angie’s breasts, there for the taking; he balked.


Angie looked down at him, her face showed disappointment and confusion. “Go, ahead and do it,” she cajoled.


He wanted to. He really did want to, but why did he hesitate? He looked up at her breasts and then to her eyes. Angie’s eyes were even more inviting than her breasts. He slowly moved his hands to her waist, and up her torso.


The mower outside stopped again. His hands jerked back down again. She, with an anguished face, grabbed the shirt again and put it on hurriedly. Not a moment too soon she jumped into the easy chair across from Patrick.


Her stepdad came in, looked the room over, and eyed Patrick.


“This is Patrick” she offered before he spoke, or didn’t speak rather.  The heavy-set man just nodded to Patrick and went past them into the kitchen door on the far side of the living room. From the kitchen, he called for Angie. She got a pained look on her face.


Patrick sat again while Angie went to talk to her step-father.  He somehow knew he’d blown his chance today.  Sure enough, she came back into the living room and plopped down in the same easy chair. “He said it's time for me to start supper. You have to go now.”


Patrick was crestfallen, and began to rise.


“But,” she stopped him, he said “We have five more minutes.”  Patrick settled back into the chair.

She then started to talk about, of all things, their algebra homework.  Patrick was slow on the uptake. She had positioned herself so that the high back of the easy chair would completely block the view of her from the kitchen door. As she began to speak she pointed to her eyes and then to the door to the kitchen. Patrick got the message and nodded that he would let her know if her step-dad appeared in the doorway. As calm as could be she began to act as if they really were studying.


She said, “…. And Bonnie said Mrs. Mills would accept just the answers on page 359…” she said as she unbuttoned the overshirt. “….. but I gotta say I just didn’t get problems 15-23…..”



She winked at Patrick, unbuttoned her overshirt, and lifted the hem of the crop top over the mass of her breasts.  It was a sight he would never forget. Her entire torso was dominated by the huge teardrop-shaped mounds of flesh. His eyes traced the slope that began just below her collar bone and moved down the expanding mass until halfway to her navel it made a final ascent up areolas that seemed the size of drink coasters and terminated at a very small nipple. The most amazing thing was that her tits were so round, the main mass spread out each side from the center of the ribs, across her body and extended several inches beyond her torso in each direction. Her tits were bigger than her ribcage, he didn’t know that was possible. He had fantasized about those breasts, but the reality was far better than he had imagined.


After the initial shock, he took in the sight.  As Angie continued on with the banal talk about algebraic formulas she cupped her two large boobs under her forearms, and lifted them up and out, as if to offer them to him.


A shadow in the doorway drew his attention. His eyes cut that way and Angie was ready for an instant reaction and before the door filled with her step-father’s shape the bosom was again under wraps and two buttons of the over shirt were done up as she rose from her seat.


Walking toward the door she whispered “Well?’


“Wow!” was all he could utter.


She gave him a peck on the cheek and said “I’m so sorry you rode all this way for nothing. Next time I’ll plan better”


“It was more than worth the ride” Patrick smiled, but he was more than a little unhappy with himself for missing the opportunity to touch her amazing boobs. 


It was hard to ride with a straining hard-on. It lasted all the way home until he made it to his room to relieve his desire; he was stopped by his mother with chores. It was nearly two hours before he could extricate himself from her. First chores then dinner, homework but eventually he was hidden in the store room. He used his signal for Angie to call him:  calling her, letting the phone ring once then hanging up. By the time she called he had his penis out and was stroking with abandon.

“I’m so sorry my step-dad was being a jerk.  When I told you to come over after school, I didn’t know he’d be home so early.”


“That’s OK” Patrick tried to calm his very angry girlfriend.


“NO! It’s not. If it had been my mom and not that self-righteous bastard, we would have had some privacy” she continued, then corrected “No, if it had been Mom we wouldn’t have needed privacy, she wouldn’t care if I showed you my tits.”


“I know you’ve said that, but are you sure?” he continued to work to calm her down.

“Yea,” she said sarcastically.  “When she got home, I told her all about what happened.”

“Even the part about lifting your shirt up?” he asked.


“Yes,” she said “and the fact you were about to feel me up when her husband barged in.”

“What did she say?” He asked.


“She said she’d talk to Herb about giving me more space. She also said that you were very sweet to make sure it was OK with me before you put your hands up my shirt. I think she likes you already.”


“It’s still hard to believe she wouldn’t mind me doing that.”


“I told you, she knew when I did it before, and as long as you are nice to me she won't give either of us a hard time if…. when… we go all the way. That is why I’m on the pill.”


Patrick wanted to sound more in control than he felt. He said with false bravado, “Then if she’d been there not him, I’d gone a lot farther than just feeling your tits.”


“So, what would you have done?”


From that first time she had guided him into the fantasy sex nearly a month before, she had told him how she was masturbating on her bed until he had cum. But this time she wanted him to turn her on.  Fortunately, this time he was ready. For the past week, he’d been giving himself a crash course on sex talk from the pages of the three issues of Penthouse Letters magazine in his dad’s magazine box. Also of help were sections from the book “The Happy Hooker” which he had found some months ago in the same storeroom in which he was sitting.  He collected his thoughts and said “I would have continued up your stomach and put my hands on your tits. I would have rubbed your nipples and then sucked on them” he said, then added “One by one.” .


“I would have liked that, a lot. Mike did that for like ten seconds each time we did it, but I would like you to do it for like, half an hour.”


“I can do that” Patrick assured her.


“OK, I’ll remember you promised. Half an hour tit sucking before you get further. So, then after sucking my tits, what would you do?”


“Oh, I’d take off your clothes real slow, and kiss you everywhere I expose.”

“Everywhere?”


“Yep, from your head to your toes, and spend special time on the place in between.”

“And what place would that be?” She asked teasingly.


Now feeling confident he said, “I would kiss your pussy lips just like I kiss your other lips.”  Patrick said this, but he really didn’t have a very good idea of what he was saying, but he was pretty sure it was the right thing.


He was sure when she said “Yea, just like that, Patrick. I have my fingers on my pussy lips right now. They are soft and very sensitive.  What would you do then?”


“I’d kiss your pussy for another half an hour. Soft kisses, and deep hard French kisses.”

“You’d put your tongue inside me?”


Patrick tensed. Was this the wrong thing to say? The stories talked about doing that, and he’d imagined doing it many a night jacking off. But was it the right thing to say? He put on a brave front and elaborated “Yea, I’d lick deep into your cunt and fuck you with my tongue.”


“Wouldn’t that be gross?” she said. He wasn’t sure if she thought it was gross or she was just testing him.


The reader must understand, that prior to the Bill Clinton and Monika Lewinski incident, oral sex was, while not taboo, not the normal precursor to teen sex that it became in the 1990’s.  Patrick was a bit surprised by her surprise, but he loved imagining French kissing her down there, and with his dick not fully erect, it seemed more desirable than usual.


He said “It would be so sexy. I would have done it today if we’d had time; done it as long as you could stand it.”


In a voice betraying true appreciation and surprise, she said “You are the best boyfriend!” then she added “and I would have given you head.”


His penis jumped in his hand with the thought of her giving him a blow job, but he wasn’t sure if a blow job meant sucking or blowing, but he wasn’t about to ask. With false confidence, he said “If we do it together it’s called doing sixty-nine.”


She encouraged him by saying “Then we’ll be miner sixty-niners.” She laughed and then said “Then what would you have done?”


“I would have taken off my pants, and then laid you down on the floor, then spread your legs and fucked you hard and long; for at least an hour.”


“An hour? Wow, another promise to hold over you.”


“Go ahead, when you get back from New Jersey, I’ll make good on that promise.”


She evidently thought it was time to ‘get busy’ so she took over the conversation and told him in detail how “I am laying on my bed naked.  The phone is being held up to my head with my Mrs. Beasley. With my left hand, I am spreading my little lips open.”


Patrick listened intently as he stroked himself.


“With my right hand, I am starting to touch my clit.”  After that, she did not speak for some time. He could hear her breath moving to that regular state he knew would soon lead to an orgasm. He stroked his penis and tried to imagine what it looked like. He didn’t have to wait very long.  Faster and louder than it had happened the dozens of times over the last month, she said “I’m cumming now.” Then let out a rather loud groaning cry. 


He was working to his own climax as the sounds of her excitement died out to just very labored breathing when, over the phone, he heard another female voice. An adult voice.


“You OK….. Ooops….. I’m sorry,”  then he heard a door close rather hard.


He heard Angie moving around, then she began to laugh hysterically. Between her laughter she yelled “That’s OK Mom!   I’m done, you can come in now.” 


He heard rustling, like sheets, then the other voice again, obviously her mother’s. It sounded like her mother was laughing too “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I heard you scream.” As she said the last word it was evident to Patrick that her mother only got the full picture as she was speaking: she’d walked in on her daughter’s climax.  “Ooo, yea,” her mom continued, evidently flustered, “Yea, I get it now.”


Angie’s laughter rekindled. Through it she said “My mom, the old hippy, embarrassed by sex… I didn’t think it was possible.”


Her mom retorted “No, I was just startled.”


“Lie” Angie shot back.


“OK, a little of both.” And she again laughed. “But I guess I shouldn’t be shocked or embarrassed.” She paused, then added, “And I guess I’ve raised you so that you're not either. I must have done good as a mom.”


“Too bad your Herb doesn’t think so,” Angie said snidely


Her mother’s voice took a negative turn. Not angry, more like sad. She said “It’s hard for him. He is a traditionalist and he’s not going to change. You’ll just have to have Patrick over when he’s not home.”


Patrick heard the phone being picked up “He’s on the phone if you want to tell him yourself”

Again, the tone of the voice changed “You mean he’s… you were on the phone with him while you…. Oh,  Angie, …I’m really sorry I interrupted…..I’ll talk to you later.” And he heard the door close again.


Angie’s voice now came loud and clear over the phone “See I told you she was cool with us.”

“OK, you were telling the truth,” he said rather incredulously.


“Now” she said “Where were we?... Oh, yea, I think it’s time for me to go for a second one.”

And she did, it was well past Patrick’s bedtime when he washed the sticky goo from his hands and crawled into his bed. But the twitching in his penis said he was not done, and for the first time, he jacked off and sprayed a second time before he drifted to sleep.  That was a first, twice in an hour, but it had been a day to remember.

 

****

 

When Patrick made it across the cavernous school cafeteria to the lunch table that had been ‘his’ for the last month, as usual, Angie and her crew already were there, eating and talking. He slid into the seat next to Angie, giving a quick peck on the cheek as he sat (which of course violated the school no public displays of affection rule).  She was in mid-sentence “….. and I’ve got my top up over my boobs, and he’s like taking it all in” then leaning over on his shoulder she said, “weren’t you?”


Though he really did know what she had said, he pretended he had not and asked, “Weren’t I what?”


“Loving looking at my tits yesterday,” she said with a broad smile.


Pretending he hadn’t known what she meant the first time gave him time to come up with a good response. Using his best Cheech & Chong voice he said “Oh man, they were like better than a full bong man!”


He got the laugh he’d been hoping for and she went on. “So, I start playing with them, but like less than a minute later, his eyes get big, I knew that was my cue to cover up, and sure enough in comes my step-dad just as I button my shirt.”


Tina, sitting across from her said “Damn, what would have happened if he’d caught you?”


Angie said “Since my mom is cool with it nothing would have happened to me, but it would have caused my mom problems with Herb. Later we talked and I promised to wait for Herb to be on one of his out-of-town business trips before Patrick comes over again.”


Sharon, who sat on the other side of Patrick said, “I sure wish my mom were so cool. I could never let her know what Tommy and I have done.” Sharon was Angie’s prettiest friend, with her Farrah Fawcett hair and bronze skin.

 

Angie leaned over to Patrick and said “They’ve done everything but go all the way.” Then she looked over to Sharon and said “Patrick has already promised to do to me what Tommy does to you.”


“What a guy,” She said “It took me threatening not to blow him anymore to get him to go down on me.”


“Well at least Tommy will if you push it.” Tina, the tall redhead, said caustically “How long have Barry and I been doing the deed? But all I get is a little kiss down there.”


Patrick’s penis hardened. He thought his friends talked dirty, but they only made things up they wanted to do someday, Angie’s friends were actually doing it and then talking about it.


“I’m not finished my story yet,” Angie said rather put out.


OK” her friends said returning their attention to her.


“Well, about 10:30, Patrick and I are on the phone getting ourselves off while we talk.”


“I’ve been there” Rachel said from directly across from Patrick “I think that’s the only kind of sex I’m ever going to have if my parents don’t lighten up.”


Angie continued “So, I’m stretched out, butt naked on my bed. And I have the biggest orgasm in the world and I guess I got a little loud.”


Patrick thought he’d get a word in and said,  “a little? She screamed so loud I had to take the phone away from my ear. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was dying.”


Angie blushed, a little, “OK, I had a REALLY big orgasm, and I guess my mom heard me. And she really did think I was hurt. So just as I’m finishing, in comes my mom in full rescue mode. But of course, all she finds is me naked on my bed, getting myself off.”


“NO!” Tina said breathlessly.


“Shit, I would have been sent to get an exorcism if my mom found me doing that” Rachael said

“Why didn’t you lock your door?” Tina asked.


“I don’t know,” Angie said “Herb never comes into my room unless he knocks and I tell him to come in, and since Mom has all but caught me getting off before and didn’t seem to mind, it was not something I’d thought about.”


“But this time she caught you in the act. Right?” Tina asked.


“Couldn’t have been more ‘in the act’ unless Patrick had been there.” She leaned over and for the first time lowered her voice "I mean although I had already cum, I was on top of the covers, legs spread with two fingers still up in myself as far as I could get them.”


Several groans from her friends later Tina asked “So what did she do?”


Angie continued “Well, I didn’t see her face when she came in. I wish I had. It must have been priceless. But, she was like moving really fast and by the time she realized what she has walked in on, she’s half way to my bed. So she just says sorry and walks backward out toward the door.”

General laughter ensued.


“So, after I pull my fingers out of me,” she grinned at her friends. “I sit up and pull the throw blanket over my lap and tell her to come back. Now all this time Patrick is on the other end of the phone, but she hasn’t figured that out. So she comes back in to apologize for barging in. She said she thought I’d hurt myself. Then I told her I’m on the phone with Patrick and even offered to let her talk to him. THEN I got to see the surprise on her face. She tried to make it look like she wasn’t shocked, but I know she was. So she left me to finish ‘talking’ to Patrick.”


“Oh, that’s what you call getting yourself off; talking?” Sharon chided.


Patrick knew he was blushing.


Angie nudged him “Yeah, we both ‘talked’ for about half an hour more. I’m sure he had cream all over when we were finished. Didn’t you?”


Patrick was now in full deep blush. His face burned like he’d been in the sun.


Tina laughed “Oh, you got a shy one here.”


Rachael continued talking to Patrick, “If you are going to keep dating Angie, you’ll have to get used to the play-by-play at lunch. Barry has gotten used to hearing me tell about every position we try, or maybe that’s why he switched to the other lunch period at the end of first semester.”


“Duhh!” Angie said, “You probably spent more time describing each time you had sex than it took to do it in the first place.”


Rachel smiled “Yea, but it’s half the fun telling you guys….. OK, not half the fun, but some of the fun.”


The girls again giggled.


Patrick’s hard on hurt now.


“So, after I finished, I put on my night shirt and found Mom in the living room watching TV. The first thing she said was that it was good Herb was asleep earlier, but I need to be quieter especially when Herb is awake. I think she was bringing it right up trying to convince me that I hadn’t embarrassed her. But it didn’t work. So, she right out asks if I plan on having sex with Patrick.  So I told her we would have done it today if Herb hadn’t been home. Then she freaked me out when she said that when she was my age she’d never waited a month to ball a guy she liked.”

“Far out” Tina said.


Angie continued “I haven’t got to the juicy part yet. After a while,  I ask her why she married an old stick in the mud like Herb?” then in an aside she qualified it with “My step-dad is really a nice guy and my mom knows I really do like him (most of the time). Best of all he dotes on Mom, but he’s so conservative and my mom is, well not. But back to the story, she looks at me and gets serious then tells me that good men are much harder to find than hot men, and while a great lay is heavenly, a happy home is better. Then, she whispers, and you can always have a great lay on the side, but you’re stuck with the husband you have.”


Rachel gasped “Is she having an affair?”


 “Well, I asked that, but she didn’t really give a real answer.”


“What did she say?” Tina asked.


“She said she doesn’t like that term, and would only say that she never wants to be married to any other man but Herb. So I asked real direct like, had she done it with any other men since she’s been married, but she just smiled and told me to go to bed.”


Rachel said, “Sounds like she has.”


Angie delayed a moment then said, “Maybe, but I don’t know. It would be like her to distract me like that. But on our trip I’ll get her to tell me more, you can bet on it.” She then cautioned. “But don’t breathe a word of this.”


To all this Patrick just listened in amazement. It was a bit much. She had just told the whole table that she and he were going to have sex.  The rest was not important to him. She told them they would do it. On one hand that was so cool, on the other he wondered how much she really liked him or did she just want someone safe to have sex with. Then he thought to himself “What an odd train of thought.”


But Patrick had a week to think about what she had said before he saw her again.

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sugarlessroark
sugarlessroark
3月18日
5つ星のうち5と評価されています。

I took Kathy, the German exchange student, to The Epitome. It was a storeroom in back of the Esposito family's Ward Street Market, perfumed by the odors of produce and sweeping compound. College students played guitar and sang. We drank black coffee. A guy with a proto-Afro and a twelve string sang Early Morning Rain, and a girl in one of those floor-length, Indian-print-bedspread dresses sang Roll Me over in the Clover. Kathy liked the scene and said she hadn't thought that Americans did anything like that. (It was a couple of years before my generation got out of hand, and they must have noticed that in Germany.) When I kissed her goodnight, thinking a quick peck on the lips…


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sugarlessroark
sugarlessroark
3月18日
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"Doh!"

いいね!

Ananda
Ananda
3月17日
5つ星のうち5と評価されています。

This is a great first erotic story based on true events. The saying: "Write what you know," can be used only so far. Most writers of the different genres like horror, SF, fantasy, Western, Crime, Detective, etc., don't have personal experience of what they write about. You are the most fortunate writer who had these experiences to write about. The flip side of the 'write-what-you-know' dictum is the emotional and psychological aspects of the characters. Your studies and work provide you with these aspects. For those mere mortals like me, there is hope as Susie Bright says: "Virgins Can Write Great Erotica. The amount of sex you’ve had is irrelevant to whether you can observe, describe, and create a potent…

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Ananda
Ananda
3月19日
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You are fortunate to have had all those wonderful experiences to write about. SF and Fantasy authors write about their time and place and place it in a different time and place to comment on their society. When Herbert wrote Dune in the early 1960s his idea of a messiah was negatively influenced by the charismatic JFK. The Dune saga is about Herbert's criticism on a charismatic messiah figure and ecology. Herbert was also influenced by the film Lawrence of Arabia and so was the director of Dune 2, Denis Villeneuve. Islam had a different meaning in 1965 than in 2024. "“Everything you need to know about life can be found in stories. Why? Stories define life. And the philosophies…



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