Gender: Male Age: 33 Location: USA
|Introduction: Charlie continues to use his huge cock to his social advantage as he is noticed by girls.|
Of course I realize it’s been a crazy long time since I wrote an installment, and I have to admit, I think I’m worried about the direction of this series. I fully realize it could go on forever, and that is, like, a really huge commitment. But I’ll keep going as long as I can go, at which point I’ll just say it was all a dream or something.
As I write this introduction, I must admit, I have no clue where the story will go. I have no outline, no nothing. I’ll be just as surprised as you.
January 10, 1995
I’ve just returned back from my first day of school back from Christmas Break, and might I say, I am LOVING my new reputation.
First off, there is nothing quite like fucking two girls – regularly – and at the same time!
The day after the New Year’s Eve party, though nothing has been officially declared, I think I officially hooked up with JB. Needless to say, we have fucked at least once every day since and whenever I hang out with Aaron, Greg, Dominique and JB, we’re always cuddling and pawing each other, resting up against one another and all that “couply” stuff.
But the girl is a fucking nymphomaniac. I can’t keep up with her, to be honest. It’s not outside the norm for us to try fucking five times in one day. For consecutive days. If cum ran through my veins instead of blood, I still wouldn’t have enough to satiate her
So I hurt. Pretty often. All this fucking is wearing me out. And to be honest, it’s not particularly GOOD fucking. It’s not like the fucking I was used to with my wife or even with Amanda.
It’s almost, well, normal.
She got pretty used to being with me, to being with my cock, after about the second day. And I know it’s terrible, but I love the dirty talk and I love to see women turn into balls of mush after I’m done with them. It’s what gets me off more than anything. And for fuck’s sake, I bring out my entire bag of tricks with her, and she doesn’t even cum regularly. Maybe once per 10 fucks. She doesn’t even seem to enjoy it. She just wants to fuck as much as possible. A few kisses, penetrate, pump, done. She doesn’t even like foreplay. I just don’t get it.
If it wasn’t for her tits – those fat, fucking perfect tits – I would probably have booked long ago. She has these pale, wiggly breasts that sit relatively high on her chest as they have just sprouted, and she has huge, almost purple areola that contrast wildly with her pale skin. She looks just like a fucking Suicide Girl. And I always wanted to fuck a Suicide Girl.
And I can’t give that up.
Though it’s kind of boring, I’ve persevered on my 5-fuck-a-day habit. And Amanda has helped.
Every so often, I have been getting conjugal visits from Amanda. She comes around every few days and we sport fuck until we are both squirting cum across the room.
And she’s grown quite accustomed to the dreaded throat fuck. Turns out she gets off on it. Which makes sense – the girl loves to be used.
Though I’ve spared her from having to swallow my entire cock by force like on New Year’s Eve, I’ve given her the option to take control and swallow 6, 7, or sometimes 8 inches. She is getting better at it all the time. She says she has a lot of trouble doing more since I’m so thick and my cock is so hard, it has very little give as it tries to angle down her throat.
She loves to start out by throating me, dripping her bile and saliva down my rod, and ending with a nice good pussy stretching.
I have to admit, I’d rather be with Amanda than JB. But Amanda isn’t having any of it. She just likes to use me as a booty call.
But the crazy thing about this situation is that each knows about the other one, and is totally OK with sharing. JB actually made the comment once “It would be a crime to woman-kind to not share your gifts.” So I read that as getting carte blanche to fuck whomever I want.
That’s what made today, the first day back at school after break, so great. It was like a scene in one of those teen movies. Every girl that walked by me would smile, be extra nice to me, even throw out a few girlish giggles. They all had heard. I knew it. I was now ordained an arch fucking cocksman. The hunt was on and I was looking for my next prey.
Which brings up the small issue of Dominique. Ever since New Year’s, she kind of quit talking to me. She either comes up with excuses to not join us when we all hang out, or when she does, she barely talks to me. And I’ve noticed she never looks me in the eye.
So yes, I’m not dumb. I know she likes me. And I’ll let her have me. And dammit, I’m going to fuck her cute little brains out.
So, as I write, sitting at home directly after school has gotten out, I have plans to meet her tonight for some coffee at Denny’s. She said we need to talk and “clear the air.” I know exactly what that means. This is going to be fu-uuun!
January 11, 1995
Forget everything I said. I don’t fucking understand women.
Let me start at the beginning. So I go out for coffee last night with Dominique. And I’m planning on making the move to give her what she’s wanted – a night with me.
We sit down and after a few minutes of awkward silence, she finally starts talking.
“Charlie, you know, I don’t know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it.”
That she wants nothing more than to be a slave to my fucking cock. Yes, I’m waiting.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
I was floored. I really didn’t know how to take it.
“Ummm, thanks? I love being insulted.”
She didn’t crack a smile at all. In fact, at that moment, I realized I hadn’t seen her smile in weeks. And the thought kind of made me hurt.
“I’m serious. You’re turning into an asshole.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re acting like every asshole guy that tried to wave his thing at me when I was on the cheer squad. Guys just hoping to sail by on their good looks…” she said, then clearing her throat, “…or talents… thinking that’s enough to land any girl they want.”
I know I smirked just then. I never thought I’d be one of those guys and it felt good to finally be one. The guy who really could have any girl he wanted.
“And nobody else is going to tell you you’re acting like this.”
I looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Aaron and Greg aren’t going to say anything. You scare the shit out of them.”
That kind of floored me. I couldn’t think why those guys, guys that were much cooler than me and would honestly kick my ass, were scared of me.
“Why would I scare the shit out of them?”
“Because you have this, this, 12-inch weiner!” She said it so loud, a couple next to us dropped their pancakes out of the mouths and just looked in our directions, mouth agape.
Whispering, she continued, “Every guy is going to be intimidated by you. Nobody measures up. Nobody can measure up to, to you,” she said as her voice steadily raised and became more animated.
“And JB won’t tell you shit since you’re goddamn fucking her all the time,” she said, again loudly and again catching the couple next to us off-guard. “I mean, why do you, why wouldn’t you…” She paused. “Nevermind.”
Her eyes darted down and she looked sad. Putty in my hands. I knew this was my chance.
“Dom, you want to just get out of here and take a walk?”
“It’s 20 degrees outside,” she said, still not making eye contact.
“We’ll get hot coffees to go.” She cracked a half-smile and with that, we went on our way.
We walked about four blocks away from the Denny’s, mostly just talking about the weather and the icy walking conditions, before we reached a small woodsy creek on the edge of the business district. It was kind of our little hangout. It was about three blocks from school and had a nice little cluster of trees we’d usually sit under on warmer days. But I had an idea to set the mood.
I walked her over to the trees, gathered some branches, leaves and wood pieces, and made us a little fire.
“Let’s sit,” I told her, and she sat next to me, kind of keeping her distance. I motioned for her to come closer and she wordlessly snuggled into me, still bundled up in her winter jacket.
After a long time of comfortable silence, she looked up at me. “Thank you,” she said. “This is nice.”
That was my chance. I leaned down and planted a kiss right on her lips. She happily accepted and I felt her small body just melt into mine. It was pretty fucking heavenly, and I definitely felt a spark. Not exactly a lust spark, but something else. I was probably just feeling how she felt about me.
“Mmm, that was nice too,” she said quietly and chastely.
“If you thought that was nice, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”
I kissed her harder, began to unzip her jacket, then I grabbed her hand and put it directly on my rapidly hardening cock.
“What the fuck!” She pulled away from me. I was shocked. I thought she liked me and she wanted this!
“You dumb asshole, did you not listen to me at all?!”
“But I thought you wanted this!”
“I don’t want THIS! I mean, I do, but, no, fuck you. You’re just an asshole!”
With that, she got up and stormed off.
So as I stood there dumbfounded, I figured that this was as good a time as any to pay a visit to JB’s house. She only lived a few blocks away, so it would be a short trip. Time to get that ass!
I show up there, and of course, she’s happy to see me. She plants a big, wet kiss on me and invites me in. It was always strange, because her mom, who was so nice, knew we were fucking and really had no problem with me showing up and ramming her daughter in her bedroom with the door closed.
So we get up to her room, which was always messy, had Green Day and Bad Religion posters and shit everywhere, and I swear, dirty sheets with a myriad of old pussy stains and leftover pop cans and empty cans of ravioli, and we start making out. She starts massaging my cock through my jeans and I paw at her titties, when the phone rings. She ignores it at first, but then she hears her mom yell up the stairs.
“Jessie, phone for you!” She hated being called Jessie.
“Mmm, I promise I’ll come back,” she said, licking her lips and fucking me with her eyes. Then she grabs the phone, and everything changed. It was Dom. I knew it. Because JB’s eyes turned from lust to god-awful anger. She must have told her everything.
“And you know what?” JB said. “That asshole came straight here then to get some ass from ME after you left! He’s here. Right now.”
And so I took that opportunity to dart right past JB, haul ass down the stairs and leave.
So needless to say, today in school, JB is no longer talking to me, Dominique is no longer talking to me, and I’m pretty sure Greg and Aaron have designs to kick my ass.
So… yeah. That happened.
I suppose I’ll update you.
January 14, 1995
The last few days, I’ve been living without friends, and to be honest, not much human communication. Luckily, Amanda booty called me today after school and I was happy to oblige. She followed me home and I throat fucked her for a few minutes, watching as she turned my nearly 3-inch thick, 12-inch long cock into a shiny, almost shimmering silver pole of iron. She keeps trying to swallow an almost impossible amount of cock when she’s with me, and I’m happy to oblige her as she tries. The sight of her body getting into position as she rams 7 or 8 inches of me down her gullet, repeatedly fighting back gags and coughing out projectiles of saliva with every ¼-inch she pushes, makes my cock expand and flex – which makes her goal of taking all of me even tougher.
But the hottest thing about being with her is her absolute raunchiness. She talks so fucking dirty, demands I treat her like a slut, and cums like a firehose. It’s no doubt then that I shoot my load about 20 feet across the room every time I’m with her. And today was no different. I changed it up a bit and, after she came a few times, I used her copious fluids to lubricate both my rod and her tits to titty fuck her, jabbing the bottom of her chin a couple hundred times, before I fucking hosed her down with my trademark ropes of cum. And after fucking Jessica five times a day, then being cut off for the past four days – well, you could imagine how much I had stored up. It probably would have overflowed a brandy glass with no problem.
This would have been all well and good if it weren’t for the fact that I was an idiot.
I was so lonely after all my friends bailed, JB dumped me and I just cruised around pretty sad at school. So in the afterglow of stretching Amanda out, I said, for some dumb reason:
“Goddamn, I love you, baby.”
And I think I even heard the sound of a record coming to an abrupt stop. She got a horrified look in her eye and protested right away.
“I thought we weren’t doing this,” she said annoyed. “We’re just here having fun. That’s it. No strings attached.”
I could have just left it at that, but of course, I had to make it worse. I had the urge to backtrack, but after a couple seconds of silence, I said all angsty, “Well, I can’t help how I feel.”
She shook her head. “Well, I feel like having fun and that’s it. I’m sorry. I really am.”
She looked away from me, and without an ounce of trepidation, she said, “If you’re not up for that, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”
She was so goddamned matter of fact. So devoid of emotion. She didn’t flinch at cutting this whole thing off at all. After one fucking slip up, a slip up I immediately regretted?
“So that’s it?” I asked. “You’re just done with me? I have one lapse of judgment and say the “l” word and you’re dumping me?”
She grabbed my hand and said the first heartfelt thing of this whole conversation – “I saw the look in your eyes. It wasn’t a lapse of judgment.” I immediately felt the tears well up in my eyes.
“It’s been fun,” she continued, “but I don’t want any relationships. Don’t get me wrong, the sex is fucking amazing, but I’m not ready for you to be hopelessly in love with me.”
“Maybe you can learn to feel something for me?” I knew how much of a bitch I sounded like when it came out of my mouth. I’m 70 fucking years old, and I’m pleading with a 15-year-old to love me. But I couldn’t help it. I loved our relationship and I wanted to just be with her.
But, I’ve been around the block enough to know when it’s the last time for something. At that moment, I took my opportunity to get an eyeful of her tits and drink up her naked body. Because strangely, I felt that I wouldn’t get another opportunity. I had no real reason to think this, as I could always get her back after this passed, and she did seem to crave me sexually, but I think we were done with each other. To be fair, we hadn’t had a real conversation since sometime in October.
So after a lot of awkward silences and a lot of lack of eye contact, she got her stuff on and left. I have to admit, my eyes were pretty teary. And I made it a point to look for tears in her eyes too. And I didn’t see any at all. And I think that made me even more teary.
As she walked out of the room, I suddenly thought of my wife. Of my former life. I had been thinking about that less and less lately. I really feel like I had been reincarnated, and like all reincarnated souls, the memory of their former life slowly fades away. I think we have more memories of our former lives when we’re children, when those experiences are more fresh. But we soon become very tuned in to the lives we’re living, not the lives we used to lead.
The only difference here is that I can live that life again. I want to see her again. I need to see her again. And I’m still over two years away from meeting her. And it seems like an eternity.
So as you can imagine, this is a pretty tear-filled night. I swear, I’m about 10 minutes away from writing some angsty poetry. Since that is how teenagers deal. But I’m a grown ass man, almost 70 years old, albeit in a 15-year-old body, and I’m going to persevere.
February 13, 1995
I know it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote, but nothing of real consequence has happened. Just like in the fall, an Amanda breakup means that I fall off the social map.
Sure, I still see girls smiling at me from time to time, and that’s great and all, but I have really been focusing on bettering myself. I’ve been trying really hard in school and on working out for baseball and waiting for the weather to clear up so we can begin proper workouts on the diamond.
The school thing is coming so easily. They finally sent our report card to us in the mail about a week and a half ago, and in the first semester, I did get straight A’s. But, to be fair, it is easy for a 70-year-old with a college degree to pass sophomore level high school classes. Despite that, I’m really proud of myself, as I never got a 4.0 in high school.
But on the girls front, things did change a bit today.
As you can see from the date on my entry, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And I hadn’t even thought about doing something and targeting “my valentine,” but I got surprised by a few contenders.
First off, this is the point in my life when I met Elizabeth Jackson. She was probably The Cutest Girl in my entire high school. And she transferred in out of the blue midway through my 10th grade year – which is now. And she joined my U.S. History class.
My heart skipped a beat when she walked in. She was short, about 5’2”, with straight, shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, a pair of huge baby blue eyes, olive skin and a tiny little mouth. All the time, she used to compulsively bite her lower lip and it was such a fucking turn on! She always resembled a certified babe of the 90’s, Alicia Silverstone, and she looked every bit the part. And just like Alicia, she didn’t have much tits to speak of. She grew into a B-cup – maybe – by senior year and had little lady lumps right now. But with her, she had a great fucking ass and just a nice, overall petite body. I’m not much of an ass man, but damn, I couldn’t take my eyes off her tight, little apple rear.
She didn’t know me from anybody, so when she did walk in to class that first day today, I did my best to be nice to her, ask her to be in my group, and all that. But competition was fierce for her attention. In that class, in addition to Aaron and Greg, who were still scared to compete with me, were Jerome, Will and Jeremy, three of the four starting defensive backs on the football team, who made an immediate play for her.
So when we broke away for group projects – in this one, we were going to make a poster board for the Post-Civil War Reconstruction – I offered that she be in my group so I could show her the ropes, and the football guys were way more obnoxious about it. I had one thing working to my advantage – I knew her.
My first time around, we were on yearbook staff together in 11th and 12th grade. We actually got to know each other. I knew she loved photography (according to her Facebook, years later she’d grow up to become a professional photographer and designer) and really dug the Seattle scene (she’d later move there and stay there her entire life). So our small talk centered around Seattle rock and when I made my pitch to be in my group (I knew I’d be able to get in a few words before the football guys dominated by butting in), I centered it completely on photography and doing our own.
My plan worked to perfection. When they tried to attract her to their group with their “wily charms,” she picked to be with me because I actually sounded more interesting to work with.
The rest of our group kind of fluidly came together, but it ended up being me, Elizabeth, a boy named Caleb, who was a heavy set brown-haired kid who was always pretty quiet but smart, and a cheerleader named Ashley who was never quite my cup of tea (Hispanic, about 120 pounds, flat as a board and not a great ass, either). But I shared my idea, which was to take a picture of us in Western clothes like they do at those cheesy Olde Tyme photo booths at the State Fair, and cut each of us out over four key scenes of the Reconstruction that we either drew or took pictures of. I was definitely playing to Elizabeth on this one, as she was excited about taking our pictures and selecting the Reconstruction Era photographs, as well as picking out the Western Clothes for each of us.
After the class let out, I took a shot in the dark. I walked her to her next class, and asked point blank if she had a Valentine’s Day date yet, and if not, I volunteered, just to show her around her new town as a friend.
I was shocked that she accepted, as the request was framed to be quite chaste.
No more than an hour after I got her number, though, I was shocked to see Dominique seeking me out. Seeking me out for the sole purpose to ask me out for Valentine’s.
Now, keep in mind, I hadn’t really talked to her, JB, Aaron or Greg much since that night at JB’s when shit really hit the fan. I figured she hated me. Today, she comes up to me all shy, not really making eye contact, asking me out of nowhere if I wanted to go out with her on Valentine’s. I was shocked.
“Why? I thought you hated me?” I asked her.
“Because I, I – I always liked you, okay?” You could tell it took every ounce of her will to tell me that, as if she was bearing a secret I didn’t already know, what with the way she leaned into my kiss the last night we hung out, but it meant a lot to her to get her feelings out there. You could tell.
But I had already committed to Elizabeth. I needed to have both of them, as I couldn’t keep this Dominique thing from going away. This was a key opportunity, as I really did miss her.
“Sweetie, I’d love to. Really, you don’t know how much I really want to go with you. But I just met this new girl. She started today and I already promised I’d take her out… as friends … on Valentine’s. I was just going to show her the town, be nice, you know.”
“And fuck her brains out?” And the tone just got dire.
“No, not fuck her brains out. For your information, I haven’t been with anybody in about a month.”
She scoffed and smiled, protesting. “Oh no, an entire month? Whatever. Like I thought you’d change.”
“Okay, Dom, can you just tone – this – down?!” I explained. “Listen, I know I was a huge asshole, was too busy thinking with my other head, but if it makes you feel any better, the last month has really sucked not having you, I mean, you guys, around and I know it’s all because I was a dick. I get that. And if I wasn’t concerned with letting Elizabeth, the new girl, down, I’d go out with you in a flat second. And I want a rain check. I really, really do. Just not on Valentine’s Day. She’s sweet and smart and I just really want a friend right now, and she seems nice. That’s all I want, I promise.”
I didn’t really realize it until it came out of my mouth, but I knew it was true. Liz had a reputation of being the Holy Grail of our school the first time around. EVERY guy wanted her. She got asked out constantly. And she always turned them down. I never remember her having a boyfriend. And she was most certainly not fucking anybody. So I figure, the odds of bedding her anytime soon was slim to none. And she was really cool. It would be nice to attach myself to the hot new girl, then, and follow that road. I really had no other prospects right now.
Luckily, Dom saw the look in my eye and could tell I was telling the truth.
“Okay,” she said, looking down. “But I get you this weekend, okay?”
I smiled happily and nodded, going in for a hug to seal the deal.
So in the end, I essentially got two Valentine’s dates and am going on one with the girl that is the cutest girl in school even though she doesn’t know it yet.
February 14, 1995
OK, tonight was pretty unbelievable.
First, directly after school, I met up with Elizabeth to take her out for our Valentine’s as Friends. She asked me on the way out of school if we should get dressed up, and I looked up and down at her body and suggested, “sure, what the hell?”
So after going our respective ways for 30 minutes to get ready, I went to pick her up (my mom let me borrow her car because I had my learner’s permit and Liz had a license). When I got to her door, my heart leapt out of my chest.
She was wearing a sleeveless black halter top dress that hugged her every curve, showed off her smallish teen tits and slithered all down her body to her tight little ass and ended just above her knee. With her petite frame, she wore the shit out of that dress. She wore her hair up and she was carrying a jacket for later, as it was an unseasonably warm February 14th.
“Wow, you look absolutely beautiful,” I said shocked, knowing I should pay her a compliment.
Oddly, she seemed just as stunned. “Yeah, so do you.”
I hadn’t even realized, but I guess I did look OK. I got dressed like I was going to work. I put on a dress shirt, wore a tie and slacks, and rolled up my sleeves just enough to show off my forearms, which have gotten great workouts for baseball and were very toned now. I wore sunglasses on my head and a pair of tight jeans, which ever so slightly, showed off my cartoonish bulge. As I looked down, I wondered if she noticed.
So as we headed out and she got in my car, the first thing that hit me was her smell. She was wearing a perfume that just made me melt. I don’t know how to explain it, except that it instantly made her even MORE classy – and even got me horny. After noticing it, I looked down in horror to notice that my cock was growing down my leg. I really didn’t want Liz to see it, since she’s a nice girl, and I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. So I squirmed and readjusted myself, and luckily, it was just beginning to get dark so I think I was in the clear. After I looked down at my growing cock, I looked up at her, and her eyes were directed down and she had a sweet, big smile on her face.
“And by the way, if I were you, I’d get a pair of tennis shoes from inside,” I said. “Heels might not work out all night long.”
She smiled, intrigued. “Okay!”
I used the moment of alone time to position by cock up higher so it wasn’t as evident, as I didn’t want a boner to ruin this night. But it was going to be hard, so to speak – being alone with her was a HUGE turn-on.
As she returned, choking back a hard-on, I drove on a small tour.
“Over here is the mall,” I began the tour. “It’s the worst mall in the nation. It will eat your soul. DON’T go there!”
She giggled, “Okay.”
I took a turn onto the highway. “Little known fact about this town. You can get anywhere in town in no more than 10 minutes. So if somebody takes longer than 10 minutes to meet you somewhere or something like that, they’re lying to you.”
“And what about you?” she asked. “It took you longer than 10 minutes to get from your house to my house?”
“Hey!” I protested. “This,” I began, motioning to my wardrobe, “takes longer than 10 minutes.” Then I made eye contact with her. “That,” I said, motioning to her wardrobe, “DEFINITELY takes longer than 10 minutes.”
“What, this old thing?” she said, nervously, trying to play it off and hide a big, oncoming blush in her face.
Then I drove her downtown. Our downtown was pretty non-descript. It was your typical mid-sized downtown, still stuck too much in the 50s for my taste, but it had some nice shops and some really nice restaurants. Over the next 20 years, the whole downtown would get remade and become a great shopping and cultural mecca, but for now, it was kind of dumpy. At this time, it was really only known for one thing.
“This is downtown, otherwise known as The Place Where Homies Drag Race.” As if on cue, a low-rider 1978 Buick painted baby blue with chrome rims bounced by. “And that concludes our tour, Ms. Jackson.” I could see a look of fear overtake her. “Yeah, I know. Pretty shitty, right?”
Just as she nodded, I took a turn toward the outskirts of town. There was a river that ran through town and right alongside it was a beautiful trail. It was just getting dark so the timing was perfect.
“Now that the cautionary tale portion of our story is complete, we can start the fun part.” Within the aforementioned 10 minutes, I pulled up to the area known simply as The Trail.
The Trail was a cool little area that had docks on one portion, a place where you can stand and feed ducks and etc. Of course, I came prepared with a ½ loaf of stale bread in the glove box. And the trail then led off to the west, up the river and through an area of trees that stretched on for a few miles. It was a great place to hike. Though the trees were bare now with it being in winter, it was still beautiful.
We began at the duck area, and with bread in hand, I began my pitch. In my former life, I did a lot of college recruiting, and I had to sell this town a great deal. I was good at connecting with kids and convincing them how this community of ours was a diamond in the rough if they would just take a long look at it, and I did so with a lot of passion that was very evident.
So I began my pitch about the great things about this community. The outdoors stuff, as we were right on the border of an awesome forest. The culture, which was pretty artsy and fun, and boasted outstandingly nice people, and the food. Oh god, for some reason, this town was great for food despite its small size. It had every type of cuisine you could think of, and the Mexican food here was to frickin’ die for!
As we fed the ducks, the full moon that was in the air kicked in, and the sight of Liz leaning on the dock, the moonlight bouncing off the water and bathing her in its reflective glow, was just too much to take.
“I’m sorry, I have to say it,” I told Liz. Then, just at that moment, I stopped myself.
I suddenly remembered talking to Liz way back when, and how she was annoyed with guys hitting on her all the time. She was told she was beautiful a million times a day. She was never told she was smart. Or funny. Or even sexy. Just beautiful. Which she told me she found was a general descriptor.
As a result, there was a song during the 90’s that always reminded me of her. It was a song called “Got You” by “The Flys.” It was a vague “you’d know it if you heard it” song if you lived through the decade, but the chorus was like this:
I think you’re smart
You sweet thing
Tell me your name
I’m dying here
Ooooh I got you where I want you
I got you where I want you
Even though that song was about taking advantage of a girl, it was, to me, Liz’s song. She was a brilliant girl. She really was. And nobody noticed. Because she was so mind-bogglingly hot.
As I stopped myself, she responded almost annoyed, “yeah, what’s that?” She knew what was coming. Or rather, what was supposed to come.
“I fucking love how you can carry on a conversation,” I said, much to her surprise. “Most girls, especially the pretty ones, are so vapid and clueless. But you.” I looked her deep in her eyes. “You’re different.”
We held eye contact for a moment. I wondered if I should lean in for a kiss. But I figured, keep her wanting. I still had plans, anyway. “Come on, let’s go.”
We walked down the trail, and about a ½ mile in, SHE reached out and grabbed my hand. That’s right. SHE grabbed MY hand.
The slight gesture was felt immediately in my cock, as my dick, which was bouncing around anyway and rubbing against my leg with every step, threatening to sprout, began to snake a bit down my leg. I squeezed her hand, as if I was attempting to fight my growing member back.
The whole time, we were talking like old friends. It was amazing how much we actually did have in common. We really hit it off when it came to music.
We both loved Seattle, loved grunge rock, and she loved loved LOVED Kurt Cobain. We talked about the whole scene, about how much we both hated Courtney Love, and all that rock and roll geek stuff.
“You know, Liz, I’m pleasantly surprised by you,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I totally never thought in a million years you’d have legitimate rock cred.”
“Why do you say that?”
And of course, I looked at her, in her hot dress. And drooled a little. “You don’t exactly look like a rocker. I mean, have you seen you?”
“Oh, shut up!” she said, smacking me. “Whatever, I know I look like a preppy. But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Most guys who are into the same music as me are these little shrimpy skater guys. And you’re so…” she said, grabbing my forearm and then my bicep with her hands and squeezing, “…not.”
I really had been filling out the past few months, and I was just building muscle really quickly. For once, my forearms were huge, and it wasn’t because one arm was giant from jerking off.
“Don’t believe the hype. I just joined the baseball team and have been working out a lot is all. It’s all really just a façade. I’m actually a 125-pound geek.”
“Well, you’re the cutest geek I’ve ever met.”
Holy shit, did she really just say that!? My eyes about jumped out of my head in shock.
We kept talking, and before long, we went up a graded trail to the top of a plateau, which was the trailhead. On top, we got a great bird’s eye view of the city.
“And up here,” I said, pointing to the East, “is your new home.”
I don’t know what it is about bird’s eye views of cities at night that is so romantic, but it always is. And this was no exception. She dug the finale to this journey.
“It really is beautiful,” she said, digging into her purse to fish out a disposable camera. She got close to me, held the camera in front of our faces and took a self-picture of the two of us with the backdrop of the lit city behind us. As she finished the photo and began to put the camera back, I again established eye contact with her, challenging her to kiss me. This time, it worked, as I leaned in and she absolutely sank into my embrace and shared a nice, passionate kiss. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually kissing Elizabeth Jackson!
I relished the sweet taste of her tongue as my cock instantly sprouted. I pulled her tightly and redoubled my efforts, stroking her hair behind her ear as her hip made contact with my inflating cock.
After a second, and about another inch of rapid hardening growth, she jumped back.
“Um, that,” she said, angling her eyes down. “Is that your, your…”
I half smiled and half tried to cover it up. But it was no use. It was almost at its full length now, tenting obscenely close to my knee.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Settle down. It’s okay. I can’t control it and I really like you, and…”
“I didn’t know they grew that much,” she said. And at that moment, I knew she had never kissed a boy and seen him get hard. Or at least she never noticed.
“It normally doesn’t,” I told her. “It’s just that mine is, you know, really big. It’s not really normal.”
She stared directly at my tenting member, which was a huge turn-on in of itself. Scrutinizing it, she sat on a stone bench next to us so her eyes were right at cock level. Then she looked up at me, with her big, blue eyes, and acting so innocently, “so what’s normal?”
Jackpot. I pulled the material of my slacks back to portray the full size my manhood, and put my finger not even halfway down, at around the 5-inch mark.
“I’m told that average guys are about this long when they’re hard. And maybe half as wide?”
“Holy…” she said, breathing heavily. “…Wow.”
“Sorry if I scared you.”
“No, you didn’t scare me,” she said. “It’s just, you know, impressive.”
I took the open seat next to her on the bench. I was obviously horny, so it might not have been the best move when I just wordlessly picked up our kiss again. She kissed me back for a few seconds before I simultaneously ran my hand up her thigh slightly while she rested her hand on my knee and moved it up my thigh, this time her hand making contact with my cock. At that point, she pulled back on our kiss.
“Please don’t hate me, but can we stop?” she said, tears nearly in her eyes.
“Sweetie, of course!” I said, stroking her hair and kissing her on the cheek. “Our making out just kind of happened. But I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
She looked down, “Well I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” Then she looked up. “Are you a virgin?” she asked me out of the blue.
I knew I couldn’t lie. “No,” I said. “To be honest, I have kind of a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“Well, I’ve had sex with a few girls, and I’m pretty sure people assume I’ve been with more girls than I have because of the size of my dick.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But I can’t have sex with you.”
“Liz, sweetie, I didn’t expect you to.”
“But I probably never will,” she said. “I promised Jesus that I’ll wait until marriage,” she looked down again. “I’m still a virgin.”
Wait, what? I never knew Liz was a Jesusfreak! Waiting until marriage? I suppose I never got into this subject with her when I got to know her the first time around, but I guess it makes sense. She definitely didn’t sleep with guys – or even date, as far as I knew – in high school.
“Sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with that,” I told her. “You wait until you’re ready. I’ll never pressure you.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “But I do really like you. And if you, you know, are looking for a boyfriend, and you’re taking applications, I’d like to, you know, throw my hat in the ring.”
She just smiled and looked at me. “You’re so cute,” she said, giving me a light kiss on the lips. “But my mom and dad won’t let me have a boyfriend while I’m in high school,” she said.
“Then why are you out with me tonight?”
“I think they thought it was cute since it was Valentine’s Day,” she said. “But it was funny, since I saw my dad’s eyes get all big when he saw me in this dress. I’m pretty sure I’ll never be allowed out of the house again.”
I looked down at her striking body. “Well, his little girl is growing up. Damn, is she growing up!”
“Shutup!” she said playfully. “But, though you can’t be my boyfriend, maybe we could, you know, secretly make out from time to time?”
“You mean like right now?”
She flashed a huge, cute smile. “Maybe?”
We kissed again, this time far more passionate, and we made out for a solid two minutes. She began purring and lightly moaning, melting into me. I decided to dare myself and move my hand down to her ass, and I squeezed that fine bottom of hers. Surprisingly, she didn’t move or remove from our kiss.
At that point, I kissed her even harder. My cock inflated to full mast again, and as it did, she pulled back from our kiss slightly.
“You’re a real good kisser,” she said.
Then we jumped right back in, kissing heavily. I decided to move my lips down to her neck, biting, licking and nibbling, and she moaned LOUD. She was really getting into this. I then felt her hand on my knee again, only this time, she moved up to make contact with my twitching cock and didn’t move it away. I immediately moved my hand down to her thigh and, lightly stroking her inner thigh with the tips of my fingers, ran it up the opening of her dress. Though her body stiffened up, she didn’t push me away.
I kept moving my hand higher and higher. She, too, placed her palm on the head of my cock, trying to wrap her slight fingers around it. To my huge surprise, I felt her squeeze my cock, and my dick flexed in response. I more quickly moved my hand up her dress to make contact with her cotton panties – and her little 15-year-old snatch was SOAKED. As her hand began to pump my cock, my finger found the outline of her opening through her panties. I moved to the side, and made contact with her pubic mound of probably blonde hair, pushed the fabric aside and began massaging the lips of her dripping pussy.
I picked up my left hand and brought it to her developing breast, massaging it as I worked her pussy with my fingers. As I rubbed her pussy vigorously, her lips quit moving as she focused on her sensations down below. She also quit pumping my cock as she gobbled up her pleasure, moaning ever louder until two minutes in, it hit a crescendo as she came – for the first time in her life – on my hand, my fingers pruny after being soaked with her juices.
After she came, she just laughed. “Wow, what did you do to me?”
“That, my dear, is called in orgasm. That’s what happens when you have a skilled hand on your pussy, rubbing it just right,” I tried the dirty talk, especially in light of what we just did, just to see her reaction.
Breathing heavily, she said, “well, you sure are skilled.”
Despite my raging hard-on, it was clear that we were done there and that was all she was willing to do, and we got up and returned back down the trail. We stopped three or four times just to openly make out on the trail – each time initiated by her.
We departed into town, got a nice dinner, and made goo-goo eyes at each other all night long. At the end of the night, I had to ask her again.
“So you sure you don’t want to be my girlfriend?” I asked her after she ran her foot up my calf under the table. She had been so frisky since I made her cum, it really did become the 400-pound gorilla in the room.
She thought about it for a second. “Maybe we can be secret boyfriend and girlfriend?” she suggested. “Just as long as my parents don’t know.”
I thought back to my first time around with her and how I never remember her dating anybody. Based on that, I had to ask her.
“What about in school? Can you, you know, hold my hand in school?”
“You’re so cute!” She thought about it, then said, “Probably not. I don’t want them finding out. Just keep it on the down-low. Maybe make out outside of school every once in a while?”
I still smiled at that, and agreed to her terms. “Fair enough,” I said, grabbing her hand and rubbing her finger slightly.
So Friend, I did it. I somehow got Elizabeth Jackson. One of the truly untouchable girls in our entire school, I snagged her. In a 24-hour span. And made her cum. Even though she vowed her chastity to Jesus.
Like I said, UNBELIEVABLE!
Until next time,
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