An All American Teenage Sex Life II Sophomore SeasonChapter 13
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Deedee was holding my hand tightly and giving me doe eyes as we were once again on the back roads headed to my first high school party.
“No one has ever done that for me,” Deedee whispered. “It was amazing,” she husked.
“Done what, exactly?” I teased in a half-whisper.
She bit her lip and shoved me lightly. “You know what!” she whispered with laughing eyes.
“Oh,” I said in mock recognition, then leaned to whisper in her ear, my voice deepening. “Do you mean the part where I ran my tongue down your hot, wet pussy and then licked you until you came for me?”
Her eyes widened and unbidden, her freckles multiplied as her cheeks, neck and chest turned a bright crimson.
She gave me an aggressive kiss and tightened her grip on my hand, shaking her head.
“And after I, um, swallowed you,” she whispered, blushing more. “You even kissed me on the lips!”
I laughed lightly. “It didn’t look like you were going to snowball me, so I was OK kissing you,” I whispered back.
She giggled and shook her head. “Snowball?”
Not quite sure how to explain that one, I just chuckled. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Did you know I had a crush on you in eighth grade?” she whispered demurely.
My eyes widened. “I had no idea, but I’m just a boy, and we don’t do hints. You have to hit us over the head,” I said as I knocked on my forehead.
“For real,” she giggled. “I had the biggest crush on you, but I was too shy to talk to you. And I had the stupid braces.”
That took me back in time. Deedee did indeed have braces back in junior high, complete with the embarrassing headgear for at least a few months. She seemed miserable in it, but she was a vision now, with pearly white straight teeth.
“I remember the braces,” I said thoughtfully. “But if I would have known you liked me back then, things would have been very different...” I smiled at the thought at first before a shadow grew over my face once again.
Sensing it, Deedee put her finger tip on my chin dimple again. It was a physical endearment I was beginning to like very much. It brightened my mood instantly.
“I really wish you had,” I said regretfully. Letting the gravity of that bring us both down a little.
With that, Lexie was turning the Hunter minivan down a long and unfamiliar driveway. Several hundred yards down, cars were parked on each side. Lexie made a three-point turn expertly, parking on one side of the driveway, but facing the way out.
“OK, here we are. We absolutely have to leave by 10:30 to get you two home,” Lexie said. “Don’t wander off to find a bedroom, and don’t drink too much,” she warned.
This was as close to cautious as I’d seen this girl. “Yes, mom,” I teased.
“Don’t tempt me to leave you here alone at a senior party, Parker,” she threatened with little malice. “No telling how you’d get home.”
We walked in the brisk spring air up to the old farmhouse. The noise of a teen party piercing the air. Good thing this one was out in the country. Lexie and Mitch walked together, Deedee held my hand tightly.
Lexie led the way up the steps and opened the door to a blast of hot air, hair metal music and the unmistakable odor of alcohol. She walked in like she owned the place, per her usual, with Mitch in tow. He was looking for familiar faces. Lexie was sizing up the room. Deedee held my hand nervously and I just took it all in.
There was dancing, chanting and cheering in another room, Motley Crue was blaring on the living room stereo and there was a din too loud for conversation.
“Mitch!” A voice rang out from the stairs. Mark Carter, Mitch’s older brother, came down the stairs to greet us.
“You four freshlings made it!” he teased. “Impressive. Come through the kitchen and I’ll get you set up.”
We followed mark through the crowd. Lexie smiled and nodded as eyes were suddenly on us, Deedee kept her grip on my hand.
The kitchen held a big harvest table, and a mixed group of seniors held court around it, probably 12 of them. Cards in hand, beer cans stacked three levels high, some were smoking. Mark opened a medium size cooler and came back to us with a Busch Light for each of us.
“Deedee?” a male voice questioned. “The fuck are you doing here?”
I suddenly recognized Brent Vant Hull turning around at the table. A hulking ginger of a senior, he was indeed Deedee’s older brother.
“Need a beer?” he offered with a teasing smile, just as Mark handed us each one. I nodded to Mark in thanks, cracking it open.
“And what do we have here?” he asked more seriously, looking at our joined hands. “New boyfriend Deandra?”
“Shut up Brent!” she giggled in embarrassment. “This is Jacob Parker.” I nodded and held out my hand. He took it and shook it firmly.
“You be good to my little sister, or I pound you,” he said with a smile that was all-teeth.
“I believe you!” I laughed. “She’s in good hands.” Deedee pulled me in a little closer.
“This fucker here,” Mark slurred slightly, pointing a finger to my chest. “This fucker pounded sixteen home runs in B-P today. You believe that shit?”
“Six!” I volunteered. “Just six,” I corrected nervously.
That got the attention of those at the table. A rousing game of “President and Asshole” was well underway. I recognized other faces immediately.
“We have freshmen here! Hi, Jake,” Karen Robinson, a senior, gave a warm greeting. She was an older sister of Beast, last of the sisters to graduate. She had dark eyes to match her dark hair, with her locks up in a ponytail. She had a mature 18-year-old woman’s body, with a nice set of tits to match. She was always very nice to me. She seemed about to offer me a beer before noticing I already had one.
“Hi, Karen,” I said as boldly as I dared. “Who’s winning?”
“Oh, of course, Clutch is president right now, and poor Melanie here has been asshole for a few rounds.”
I nodded at both Clutch and Melanie Cox. Melanie was a pretty brunette cheerleader. She was sitting between Karen and the simply gorgeous Katie Highland, Homecoming Queen. I had to admit it was a little surreal to be freshmen in their presence at a party.
“Looks like your little sister has a boyfriend, Brent.” Katie teased from her perch at the table.
“He hit six homeruns with you yet, sweetheart?” Katie teased, with a flick of her tongue.
“They’re just dating,” Lexie interrupted, trying to take charge of the situation. Deedee’s cheeks, chin and chest were suddenly lobster red.
“Well they look awfully cute together,” Katie challenged, pulling up to her full height in her chair. Both Deedee and I couldn’t hide goofy grins over that proclamation from the Homecoming Queen herself.
I took the moment to take my first sip of the cold beer. It wasn’t my first beer, truth be told, but I hadn’t had many in my short life. Enough though, to know Busch Light was not a great one. Still, free beer, you know?
Deedee dared a sip and made a slight face, and I had a sudden thought and tapped our beers together.
“Cheers!” I added.
Their game interrupted for too long, the table lifted their beers and yelled, “CHEERS!”
“Cheers to the freshmen!” Katie pierced the air. “Looks like the Wolfpack has future partiers!”
“AARRRROOOOOOOOO!” howled the table, then the rest of the house howled in answer. Our school battle cry could be either really cool, or really annoying. I decided it might have something to do with how much you had to drink. I took another sip to that.
“We’ll let you get back to your game,” I offered. “We better mingle.”
“You better!” Katie challenged. “Show them there are some ballsy freshmen here!”
We all laughed and more howls erupted as Mitch led us around the house. We saw a few more upperclassmen we recognized from various sports and made small talk. Deedee never left my side, but Lexie found her courage and started to flit around and mix it up with her usual charm, but she kept us in sight. I found an open seat on a couch in the living room and Deedee planted herself across my lap with her arm around my neck. We clutched the same beers we’d been handed earlier.
I gave her a little dimple kiss. She touched my chin dimple with her fingertip before kissing me lightly and we chatted quietly for a few minutes. Lexie was still off making the rounds, so I had a rare moment alone with Deedee, even surrounded as we were at a party.
Lost in our conversation for some time, I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was 10:20, so I told Deedee we better go find Lexie and Mitch before we all turned into pumpkins.
I walked past Lexie and held my watch up. She nodded in understanding as we walked past a hooting kitchen table, who as I understood the game, had a brand new president in Katie Highland. Still not seeing Mitch, I pulled Deedee into the garage and found him there, chatting and chugging a second beer.
The mood was a bit more sedate in the garage, but not without one casualty. Poor Ryan Meeder, a long-haired sophomore, and a bit of a burnout, had way too much to drink and was passed out on a small couch that had been pulled into the garage. I wasn’t sure if it had been placed in the garage before he arrived, or carried out with him on it. He’d gotten the marker treatment, and most prominent was a darkly drawn cock and balls on his forehead. A big, veiny one.
This was a good first lesson for me. Don’t overdo it like that at a party. Deedee was wide-eyed at the same thing. Much worse things than this could happen to girls who got out of control at parties.
I held up my watch to Mitch and he got the message, saying some quick goodbyes before following us back into the kitchen. We did get in final giggle at Ryan Meeder, though.
“There’s a new president, freshmen!” Karen yelled to us as we walked back into the kitchen, well, to me in particular.
“To the new president!” I toasted, putting away the last of my can of beer. “To the new president!” shouts rang out from the table, followed by a fresh chorus of howls.
I leaned into Karen. “We gotta run, it’s been fun.” She gave me a light hug. I head-nodded Clutch, who seemed to be taking his recent demotion in stride. “Great party, Clutch!”
“NO!” Katie Highland yelled out. “You can’t go yet. I’m president now!” she huffed drunkenly.
“I gotta get this gorgeous girl home before curfew,” I offered sheepishly.
“You do that, Jacob Parker. Take that girl home and GIVE IT TO HER! WOOOOO!” she slurred at full volume.
I blushed nearly as red as Deedee and we waved and made our escape to another round of howls.
We all breathed a sigh of relief as we got into the van. Boring party? Probably by most standards. It was thrilling to us as freshmen who’d made an appearance without an embarrassing incident. We’d sort of announced ourselves, I guess, as the future of the school.
Lexie, always prepared, handed out sticks of gum. “Cover up that beer breath,” she nodded cooly.
We rolled up to Deedee’s house and I got out with her. She held me in her arms in the driveway and laid a kiss on me that I swear I felt in my toes.
She gave me another fingertip to the chin dimple, smiled and turned with a bit of a flourish to her house. I was staring at her ass like always before Lexie cut in.
“Get in the van, Parker, or you’ll miss curfew,” Lexie barked dryly.
I hopped back inside and sat back to relax. Lexie put the van in reverse and paused, looking back at me.
“Parker, what the fuck is a snowball?”
Mitch and I paused, looking at each other for a moment with wide eyes, then fell into peals of laughter.
“For those about to rock ... we saluuuuute yoooooou!”
I let my alarm clock play for a moment. It was a rare occurance to have my alarm go off on a Saturday and I just loved AC/DC. I let Brian Johnson scream out until the 21 gun salute got going in earnest.
Shop cleaning day was on my mind and I would get to show off my new pride and joy with one of my closest friends.
I hustled through breakfast and mom, Josh and I picked up Shelby at the Ray Ranch on the way to grandpa’s shop.
Shelby and I got out of the car and mom rolled down her window to me.
“Grandma will have a lunch for you two at noon. Call me if you get tired of cleaning in the afternoon and I’ll pick you both up. Oh, and I asked her NOT to ask you if Shelby was your girlfriend.”
Mom winked and headed out before I could do anything other than grimace.
I ushered Shelby into the shop, flipped the lights on and headed to the corner to see if I could figure out the heater. It was on a simple enough switch and I gave it flick. The old rusted heater, slung up against the wall and fed by a squirrel cage fan, started up and belched to life with a flicker of flame.
Shelby was already looking at my new love and I noticed another addition to the shop. It looked like grandpa was welding together some sort of wheeled pit cart.
But all eyes were on the red beauty in the room.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I beamed, walking over to gauge Shelby’s reaction to the sprint car taking center stage in the shop.
“It looks very mean to be a ‘she,’” Shelby shrugged. She was dressed as she might for any day of work on the ranch, and I thanked her more than once for taking the time to help and hang out today.
“Oh, she’s a she,” I said matter-of-factly. “And she’s all mine.”
“Boys and their toys,” she chided me once again. Her appraisal of the racecar ended as she began to look around the dusty old shop.
“Where do we start?” she said, glancing around at the mess.
“Well, grandpa said we could move any of the construction items into the big shop, and leave any racing stuff in here. That makes room for dusting and sweeping, I guess.”
“A tornado might make a cleaner sweep through here,” Shelby whistled.
“I’ll get started. You just help where you can.”
We had the race shop big door open and the big construction shop door open as well. I was moving concrete casts, rolls of hoses, and even painting equipment out of the race shop, depositing them unceremoniously inside the construction shop. We got quite a bit of the floor cleared off and I realized there would easily be room to work on two cars in here. Shelby, being a rather practical girl, got the bright idea to use the air compressor mounted under the massive workbench to clear out as much dust and cobwebs as possible with air power. She went to work, blasting dust all over the place, much of it rolling out the open doors.
As the dust settled, I went to work throwing out some obvious garbage into a dumpster near the construction shop, then started sweeping up the grimy floor.
We were both covered in dirt head-to-toe, but the shop was remarkably roomy and much cleaner after only a couple hours of work.
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We walked back inside and I quickly discovered my Sunday wasn’t over. Beast was on the line. “Parker, you wanna shoot hoops?” “Yeah, sounds good. We need a fourth?” “I supposed, who you got in mind?” “Mikey?” “Yeah, I guess I can kick his ass as easy as yours,” Beast chuckled. “I’ll call him.” “I’ll pick you both up and we’ll go to Tree’s.” “Later.” I asked mom and dad if I could go shoot hoops for the afternoon. “Be home for supper.” I could hardly think about supper. I was still...
TUESDAY, JUNE 4, 1991 I saw her for the first time on a rainy Tuesday morning. I had never seen anything like her before. But I’m getting way ahead of myself. Let’s skip back to earlier in the morning. Dad had ordered a few items for the Mustang. In particular, a few interior items he wanted fixed. He bought a headliner, new carpet and new vinyl for the both front seats. With installation, this was going to put him back nearly $400. But where to get the work done? Dad had called a brand...
TUESDAY DECEMBER 25, 1990, CHRISTMAS DAY I hadn’t seen Mel since Friday, and while I did miss her, it was probably good for my soul. Every moment seemed tumultuous, and drama buzzed around her like bees to flowers. We did everything at full throttle, whether it was making love or just not getting along. A few days of quiet time around my family was welcomed. Our family had our traditional Christmas Eve meal of oyster soup and appetizers like ham-wrapped pickles with pineapple cream cheese,...
FRIDAY, JUNE 28, 1991 After the playoff loss and public dumping, we skipped any kind of celebratory meal and headed home. I lugged my heavy bag of baseball gear into the house for the final time of the season. I didn’t even have time to strip and get my uniform into a soak before the phone rang. A tiny part of me wondered if Deedee had changed her mind. “Hello?” “Why didn’t you call me?” The feminine voice at the other end of the line was insistent and accusatory all at once. “I just...
SUNDAY, JUNE 30, 1991 I leaned forward with my head in my hands, rubbing my temples. Shelby pulled some of the blanket around her shivering form. It was a warm day, but a body soaked in sweat would get chilly in the breeze. Her horses, Destiny and Doc, munched grass lazily, paying us little heed. “Why not?” I asked the prairie scene in front of me, not wanting to look her in the eye. Shelby sighed and put her hand on my shoulder. “I might have done a bad thing today,” she sighed. “I did...
JULY 4, 1991 “Happy birthday, Jake.” It was a pleasant way to wake up. No alarm had been set. I was allowed to sleep in a bit. It was mom who woke me up in a gentle way at around 9:30. But it wasn’t her words that woke me up. It was the smell of bacon in the oven. I rolled out of bed and felt the sharp sting in my lower half. ‘Fucking leg day!’ I swore to myself. We’d spent the early part of Tuesday morning on the track, running short bursts of sprints on up to a full mile run. Then...
SATURDAY, JULY 6, 1991 ‘Breathe, just remember to breathe.’ The heat, the humidity. Oppressive. Harsh lights shining down on me. Mercifully, my Nomex head sock is soaking up the sweat from my head, keeping the stinging drips out of my eyes. My helmet feels a little suspiciously loose on my head, but the chinstrap is tight. All is almost silent here in the cockpit. I flip my visor up as my breathing is creating a little fog under the lense, with more than two dozen tear offs piled on...
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1991 “I’m out in the cold (out in the cold) Body and soul (out in the cold) There’s nowhere to go (out in the cold) I’m out in the cold (out in the cold)” Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers had it about right. I was out in the cold. Of course, I still slapped the snooze button and shut him up anyway. I had a riot of feelings to deal with. Two rejections, were weighing heavily on my mind. Sure, I had sort of patched things up with Shelby. At the same time, we were...
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1991 “What’s on your mind,” I asked as I closed my car door carefully. Jen seemed to stiffen and forced herself to turn towards me in her seat so that she couldn’t avoid looking at me. “What I said about the dance wasn’t entirely true.” “So you DO want to go to the dance?” I said with a lopsided grin. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Let me finish.” “OK,” I replied, letting her continue. “I have gone to a dance before. It was, it was horrible.” “Go on,” I...
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1991 “And homegrown and down-home, that makes one Cookin’ up that old time, long lost recipe for me, woh It’s gettin’ hard to find Guess it ain’t hip enough now You take an average guy, he can’t identify, uh And there’s a short supply of her fine, fine stuff Lemme get on, lemme get on, lemme get on some of that Shake it up, bake it up nice, uh Lemme get on, lemme get on, lemme get on all that I so love my baby’s poundcake.” Van Halen was so much better with Sammy...
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1991 I woke with excitement Sunday morning. No alarm set, just the refreshing feeling of sleeping in after being worked hard for a few days. Well, that and the fact that I would be shooting hoops with a tall, gorgeous blond that day. The tantalizing aroma of a beef roast in the crock pot was what got me awake. I followed my nose out to the kitchen to see it bubbling away on the counter top. The parents had, as usual, let me have my Sunday while they headed to church...
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1991 Seven days of kisses and bliss. Jen got her kiss every day for a seventh day. Every time I saw her or thought about her, the butterflies were there. We held hands in the hallways and word around school was that we were the hot couple. The upperclassmen had accepted and welcomed me with open arms. If I’d been placed on the varsity team at the start of the season, I’d have likely faced some hazing. As it was, saving the big game and showing them I belonged put...
Harold Spencer Eversly was on vacation in Acapulco with his Mom. He was sixteen but looked younger. His father had died suddenly when he was only eight leaving his Ma a very rich woman. She was very possessive and Harold was something of a mother’s boy. They traveled around a lot, all over the world. Harold had been to a lot of different schools but not learned much. He figured he didn’t have to with the money coming to him from a Trust when he was 25. Until then he was quite...
American-Man At War By Paul G. Jutras "1,2, 3, 4...." Christine said as she stood in gold three inch pumps and a backless evening gown with spaghetti straps. With the clicking of drumsticks the band prepared to join in. Soto began to played the guitar in his usual leather jacket, pants and boots and red tee shirt. Mark played the drums, Luke the keyboard in their yellow and red striped coveralls, and Starshine the tambourine in her purple blouse, leopard print mini skirt...
Ida Hoe was waiting nervously back stage as her arch rival, Holly Keyhole, performed on stage riding Hoss Bigg cowgirl style on a trampoline. She could hear the audience shouting in delight. The raucous cheers were almost deafening.Ida was horrified that Holly might give an unsurmountable performance. Ida barely trailed her for first place in this grand finale episode of Miss American Pornstar. Winning the title of the first Miss American Pornstar would not only make her the newest rage in the...
Group SexNew Job for American-Man By Paul G Jutras Since American-Man's appearance the crime rate in Federation city had dropped way down. Too bad the number band of gigs his rock band had were also way down. Needing the extra pay, it was in his American-Man form that he became a bag man at a Federation City super market. The job was easy and American-man changed his costume with the bluish green shirt, black slacks and sneakers of the market. When he eyed a shoplifter trying to head out...
Okay, here goes nothing. African-American guys like myself have a certain image in the eyes of the world. We’re thought of as tougher, meaner and more athletic than the average guy. Also, people seem to think we gravitate toward either athletic pursuits or criminal endeavors, and nothing in between. Neither is exactly true for most Black men living in the United States of America. Just to prove to you how untrue these stereotypes are, take me for example. My name is Arnold Thompson. And I’m a...
“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, ‘Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.” ― J. Robert Oppenheimer It seems sort of strange looking back on the unfolding events of...
-We learned in Part One of this story that I was a sixteen year-old virgin boy named James, who everyone called Jimmy, with a very thick, nine-inch-long cock. My neighbor Norm was forty-two at the time. His wife Lindsey was forty-one and their son Todd was eighteen and away at college.I went with Norm to open his lake cabin for the summer. We were skinny dipping on an unusually warm day for spring in Wisconsin and he convinced me that we should masturbate one another on the boat. That evening...
MILFTo begin, may I must make something perfectly clear. I’m virgin by my haughty cousin’s definition -- he says we may do it now because it is very assuered our families will marry us together -- but that doesn’t mean I have never made love. My story begins at St. Mary’s, an elite English-medium secondary school for girls. St. Mary’s has a Christian headmistress and several Christian faculty, but few of the students are of that faith. Christians know academics better than do mullahs and holy men....
The unlucky American. ? A reader of some of my other stories challenged me to write one about a terrified boy enslaved by a girl. This is the outcome of my efforts. ? Note: Tim’s private thoughts are marked by single inverted commas: ‘Shit’; direct speech by double: "Yes, Mistress". ? Part one. ? "I'm an American citizen, for chrissake. It's your fucking duty to defend me!" I shouted angrily at the embassy's legal secretary. ? "You are and I have". She looked calmly back. ? "But I was...
American Girl in Bangkok By Tiffany Parker The following story is a work of fiction and is copyright property of the author. Please don't repost it without permission. But most importantly, I hope you enjoy reading it. Chapter 1 Kaylee impatiently bided time while sitting in the middle seat in coach on the long trans-pacific flight. She was excited about her trip to Bangkok that would complete her journey and provide her the gender affirmation surgery she desperately...
Promises and Secrets: A Teenage Transsexual By Maria Ski Things changed for me after I was discovered trying on my sisters clothes. My mother had caught me. But there was no anger, no disgust, just a warm understanding smile and the love of a mother. From that day of being discovered, and after telling my sisters things seemed to change. Every weekend I became Maria. With a wardrobe of girls clothes of my own which I either bought myself or had bought for me. One thing led to...
Author's Note; This story is a dedication to Tom Petty. Song meaning to me are very subjective. I can take someone different out of song than someone else. I can even take something different out of a song depending on my mood. So with saying that this story is how I filled in the blanks of this great song. Debra Webster was an American girl who was raised on her mom and dad's promises.These promises were being able to be whatever she wanted to be in life, and their daughter would...
Alright, I can finally admit it to myself. I am a Muslim. I used to be one of those people who felt a strong dislike of Muslims, until I fell in love with one. It’s funny how these things happen, huh? My name is Solomon Kingsley Henderson, although many of my friends have taken to calling me ‘King Suleiman’ in recent times. It’s my Muslim name, though it’s not on my passport or anything. My wife Khadija Abdullah certainly likes it. She’s a lovely lady of Somali descent who saved my life back in...