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Susan Demoine’s report that the evening had been a roaring success made the others keener to take their place in the queue.
Jerry even got new glasses for the experience. They still had quite thick lenses, but the frames looked less like goggles and she felt herself to be more attractive. Woody was beginning to get the hang of this stuff. His parents went off for a couple of days and the game was set. He decided they would try something different. When she arrived promptly at 6pm on the Friday, he met her with a glass of wine, led her upstairs to the bathroom (she looked quizzically at him) and in to a room with the blinds down and masses of scented candles. Her glasses steamed up and she didn’t notice as he undressed, she did notice when he then undressed her, with little obvious embarrassment. She was ready to squirm with shame at being seen for the first time totally naked by a boy, but his efficient sophistication meant she complied with it all and he handed her into the bath and then got in behind her. As she sipped her wine, he soaped her smallish breasts and stroked her well-furred minge. She slid past ‘never in a million years’, didn’t stop at ‘I’m not sure’ and settled comfortably into ‘this is nice’. Even when his soapy finger found its way between her butt-cheeks and wiggled into her anus, she just accepted it all, enjoyed it all. After an hour of washing and soaping and kissing and coaxing, they got out; he dried her and then she dried him, carefully drying his bollocks without squashing them (she had been told they were very sensitive). Then he led her to his bedroom, laid her naked on the bed and fucked the living daylights out of her, to her inexpressible delight. He’d read her correctly; he was learning; she wanted to know she was sexy and he had made her understand that he couldn’t wait to take that lovely trip between her legs. Being made to feel totally, undeniably sexy was a real turn-on for her.
Later he used his newly learned techniques of finger massage on her and she felt like she was floating near the ceiling. Much, much later he had to lie and say he’d spilt some yoghurt on the bed when his mother asked about the whitish marks. She wasn’t stupid, she assumed it was Mandy. Later, when she got a description of a girl seen going into the house from the nosey bitch over the road, she realised that no, this wasn’t Mandy – was her son some kind of secret Casanova? Shse actually thought she should have a word with him. She liked Mandy and didn’t like the idea of him two-timing her.
Mary was different, she was a catholic and even helped at the altar. Woody never understood what she did even after she explained. The arcane structure of the church was too much even for his IQ. “No, no, I can handle the host until it’s been blessed, then only a deacon or priest can touch it. Except if there isn’t one and then the senior accolyte can help in distribution under the direction of the celebrant. It all makes sense.” - not to him. He also couldn’t make sense of how she married a religious belief with the scientific method, though she seemed content that she had managed it well enough so he left her to argue with Leif (notable Lutheran, sadly for the Protestant churches, not very bright. She always wiped the floor with him in their arguments). she also explained that she wasn’t sure it would be alright for him to wear a condom. That seemed to make things rather risky. Mary was slim, dark brown hair, freckles when she was in the sun, and piercing blue eyes. She could speak four languages and he had never heard her swear in any of them. He actually liked her for her scientific inconsistencies and her beliefs. On the other hand, insistent though she was, he didn’t fancy unprotected sex where the result of a pregnancy would be a shotgun wedding. Her dad wasn’t the type you crossed easily.
“Well, maybe we should leave it?” he offered
“Oh yes, and have me accused of welching on the agreement? No, you have to. I want SEX WITH YOU” she raised her voice. People in the Mall where they were discussing this looked around. Oh yes, that was the other thing; she fitted the traditional Irish stereotype in having a short temper.
“Okay, okay, stay calm. Where can we do the dirty deed?”
It would have to be another car based rut, there was no opportunity to find a house, then Mandy sauntered past. Mary was not a fan of Mandy. Mandy lowered the standing of women in Mary’s eyes, and Mary was a mindless believer in a double standard in Mandy’s eyes. But she saw there was a problem and joined them. “Come over to my place. Yes, Mum and Dad are away again. They like weekends away, what can I say?”
So, Saturday morning found them walking down the road together. Woody’s mother drove past the other way, heading back from Whole Foods. “Another girl? What is he up to?” She turned the car and followed a little way, and saw them turn into Mandy’s drive. Mandy was standing there. “What the heck?” Was he getting a threesome? She resolved that she’d have to have a chat. Mandy had seemed a nice girl, with her fashion tips and all, now it seemed she didn’t even mind being two-timed. Her thoughts drifted off to threesomes. Then to the dampness in her panties. Then to getting home before her husband got engrossed in fiddling with his 1954 Cadillac when he could be fiddling with her.
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