Breakdown
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Lucky StiffChapter 23 -- Breakdown free porn video
The radio is blastin',
Someone's knocking at the door.
I'm lookin' at my girlfriend,
She's passed out on the floor!
I'm seein' so many things
I ain't never seen before!
Don't know what it is,
I don't wanna see no more!
Mama told me not to come.
Mama told me not to come.
She said, "That ain't the way to have fun, son!"
"That ain't the way to have fun. No!"
--Mama Told Me Not To Come (Three Dog Night)
First period on Monday, Sherry saw me. "I heard that you had a wild weekend."
"Who told you that?" I asked, innocently.
"Oh, a little birdie," Sherry said, sweetly.
"June is looking like it will be a lovely month," I said, dreamily.
Sherry blushed in response. I knew that the rumor mill was running at normal speed, which was faster than humanly possible.
I was happy. Operation Unsaint Jim was underway.
I ditched lunch and stayed in the music room. Mr. Proilet asked if I was working on a special project, and I nodded. He smiled at me, and asked me to lock up when I left.
I waited a few moments, but June didn't arrive. I was disappointed, and decided to check out the practice rooms at the other end of the room. I hadn't played a note the past weekend, and it couldn't hurt to keep the fingers in shape.
There was a light on in one of the rooms when I opened the door. Inside, I found a totally naked cheerleader with chocolate-brown skin.
"June!" I exclaimed, surprised. "How long have you been here?"
"Since second period," June answered. "I told your teacher that you left some music in one of the practice rooms. I'm not sure if he knows whether I left or not. I kept thinking that somebody would come in--I felt very naughty."
"Practice rooms are usually used during fifth and sixth period during Music Theory classes."
"I heard the band playing last period. I... I was playing with myself, knowing you were in the room. I reached a loud orgasm. I don't think anybody heard me, but I felt very nasty!"
I wonder how much Mr. Proilet heard about last weekend. I knew that June's name was mentioned, and Mr. Proilet, one of the younger teachers, seemed to be pretty much attuned to what the kids were saying.
I decided that there were worse things to worry about than what Mr. Proilet thought. After all, he cut me quite a lot of slack, and if he heard my name linked with June, and knew that June was inside the practice room, then it was obvious that he let me alone in the music room, so I knew he wasn't going to try to bust me.
Still, I felt the wickedness that June described.
I pulled my pants down, and sat on the piano bench. I signaled June to come over, and she was surprised when I lifted her up and placed her on my lap. My cock was sticking up between her legs.
June looked down between her legs. "It's as if I have my own penis!"
"Well, it's yours only temporary. I've become attached to it."
June laughed, but continued staring. "It's like... weird!"
I moved my hands to cup June's breasts and I felt her body shiver at my touch.
I kissed June's ears, and then moved my hands from her breasts to the ivory keys in front of her.
This was one of my fantasies, although I never played it out with Kristen.
My hands played the opening chords that was the introduction to Elton John's "Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road."
I softly sung the song lyrics in June's ear as I accompanied myself on piano. I could feel June grinding her crotch against my pubic hair, and I could feel her excitement start to build as I caressed her body with my arms as I continued to play the song and sing in her ear.
When the song was complete, I resumed kissing June's ear.
"That's a lovely song, but it's also sad song, isn't it?" June asked.
"Yes," I said, having progressed to licking inside June's ear.
"What's it about?" June asked.
"A guy is leaving his rich mistress. However, some of the words are vague, and it could also be that he's leaving his male lover. Looking at it another way, it's also a song of escape."
"Ooh, a nasty song!" June said, her wiggling on my crotch getting more pronounced.
My fingers were back on June's breasts. Her nipples were about as hard as I ever felt them. I sighed as I remembered the feel of slippery soap over those nipples. Kristen was to blame for this particular fondness I now had.
June's orgasm wasn't very loud, nor was it very big. However, June seemed quite content when it finished washing over her.
"How do you do it?" June asked, breathlessly.
"I just do what comes naturally," I said.
"On four occasions, I've been with you. I've received eight orgasms. And each time, it's been different. You lick me, you rub my body, you touch me between my legs, you have me hump your cock. How do you do it?"
"You inspire me to new heights, June."
"That can't be it," June said.
"You do, June. How do you do it? You enter a practice room and remove all your clothes. You wait two periods, not knowing if anybody will look in before I do."
"I couldn't have done it if last weekend hadn't happened."
I laughed. "I didn't do anything, June. You are doing it yourself. I'm just hanging on for the ride!"
June rotated herself on my lap so that she was facing me with my cock aligned with the crack on her ass. She moved her legs until they were wrapped around my hips. Her arms pulled her body close to mine. Her nipples rubbed into my breasts. "Kiss me, Jim!"
I did. June started grinding against me once more. It took about ten minutes, but she reached another pleasant orgasm.
"I like it this way," June said. "Archy and I never did it that way."
"Archy never had a nasty girl in bed with him."
"Yeah. Cunt Whore is pretty nasty, huh?" June teased.
The clock in the practice room showed me there was still some more time. I once again started to play a song, but when June realized what I was doing, she rotated around again so she could "participate."
I played a song that I only tried to play a few times. I liked the song when it was a hit, and did an arrangement for piano for it, but there was never any inspiration for me to actually perform it--until today.
I knew a man Bojangles, and he danced for you,
In worn out shoes.
Silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants.
The old soft shoe.
He jumped so high, he jumped so high.
Then he'd lightly touch down.
I sang the song softly, using the piano only to play arpeggios, the way that the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band played the song on acoustic guitars.
June didn't say a word during the song. I knew that it affected her, but she didn't say anything. Her grinding was minimal during that song, which surprised me.
When the song ended, June still said nothing at all, but turned around, hugged me, and cried.
I hadn't expected this reaction from her. I hugged her back, confused.
After a very long kiss, June broke it off and looked at me.
"I have another request for you, Oogie."
"Yes?"
"On the day that we get married, could you play that song for Archy and me? I would love that song to be our wedding song."
"It's not a romantic song, June," I pointed out.
"Yes it is, Oogie."
I didn't correct June. Bojangles Robinson was black, and the song might have a different meaning to her than it did to me. I've learned long ago that a song that people laugh at, like Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling," could also be seen as romantic, the way my lovely blonde Goddess would always think of that song.
June expressed her happiness in my choice of song by kissing me very long and intimately.
After we broke from that kiss, I looked up at the clock in the room, and saw that there was less than five minutes left in the period. I moved June off my lap and told her to get dressed. I noticed that she went without bra or panties. "You nasty girl!" I teased.
"People are already talking about us, Jim. I feel so nasty and so proud. A lot of girls don't believe it. I think that they are jealous of me."
"I know," I said. "Sherry seemed to know the gossip in first period."
"Gossip travels fast!"
I nodded. "I'm pretty sure who started it. Jackie's boyfriend, Steve."
"Jackie and Steve broke up after they left the villa," June told me. "Jackie confided to me that she wanted to do it at the villa but wanted to avoid a nasty and public confrontation."
I understood Jackie's motives. Avoiding confrontation was why I also declined to do anything about Steve's obvious dismissal of Kristen's hard rule of "no liquor" at the villa.
Kristen had made that rule out of respect for me, knowing how I felt about my father, and had offered all of our friends a free weekend at a wonderful villa with only that one string attached. The fact that Steve so heartlessly ignored that one request told me a lot about his character.
"Jackie told me that he's an asshole," I observed. "I agree with her."
"Can you do me a favor?" June asked.
"Anything."
"Hold my hand and walk me to my next class."
I laughed. "You nasty, nasty girl!"
The class bell rang, and as June and I walked the hallway, it was obvious that we received an unusual amount of stares. We pretended not to notice, but I could actually smell the sweet aroma of June's arousal as I deposited her at her classroom.
To further dispel all doubts, I gave June a totally unnecessary good-bye kiss in front of the open door to her classroom.
As I walked to gym class, I noticed that a lot of girls were checking me out, seeing me as maybe being a bit more available than I was when I was seen as exclusively Kristen's. I hadn't expected that particular response, actually.
In the locker room, I received a lot of ribbing from my class mates. "Way to go, Stud!" said one friend.
"You better watch out for Tiny," warned another. "I hear he wants your balls on a skewer!"
I winced at that description, but I knew for a fact that this wasn't true.
There were only a couple of teases that bothered me. They all stemmed from the fact that June was Negro and I was a Caucasian. My response to that was a serious glare at the offending parties, who decided to keep their racist thoughts to themselves.
Although blacks were no small minority in Chicago at that time during the 1970s, the suburban community where I lived was still predominantly white. Interracial dating was extremely rare, and I guess that despite the fact that Archie Bunker was on the air for a while showing bigotry to be the silly idiotic thing it really is, some people never learned anything.
I didn't think of myself as "Crusader Whitey" who would be responsible for wiping out prejudice in our community, and to tell you the truth, I really hadn't thought through the racial angle. I mean, when I first held June in my arms, the fact that she was black made her seem more exotic. But that was just a very small part of what made her special to me. She didn't taste or smell any different. Her skin beaded water differently than mine in the shower, but I knew white girls for whom that was true as well. What I loved about June was that little girl I discovered who I wanted to get to know a lot better.
I noticed that some of the dumber white people no longer liked me now. That didn't bother me, actually. I never really identified with those assholes, anyway.
However, some of the black kids also seemed to glare at me as well, as if I was reducing the amount of pussy available to them. I mean, I bet those guys didn't treat Tiny the same way when he made it clear that June's dance card was full. I truly couldn't understand their anger.
I found myself shunned by those two groups in gym class. I felt a bit confused about this. Then a black student threw a basketball at me (not to me) during a game. The fact that he knocked me down and he was supposed to be on my own team surprised me, as well as the gym teacher.
That was enough! I left the gym class, ignoring the protests of my coach. I quickly got dressed and walked back to the music room.
Mr. Proilet was teaching his Theory class. He saw me come into the room, and he interrupted his class. "More practice, Jim?"
"Something like that," I mumbled.
On automatic, I entered the same practice room that June and I shared earlier. Nobody was inside, so I closed the door and started playing the piano.
I started with the Moonlight Sonata, a song that usually calms me down. For the first time that I could recall, it didn't work.
Next, I picked a random song: an oldie called "You're Sixteen," and a random key: D-flat.
It was one of those songs with only about four chords, so it worked. I started shouting the lyrics and noticed that the song consisted of a very limited vocal range.
The song and key signature suddenly sounded familiar. It was an oldie, but there was a remake of it that was on the radio occasionally. Ringo Starr sang it; it was his range and I believe that this was the key he used in the song. If I remember correctly, Paul McCartney and Harry Nilsson sang backup on the song, and one of them even played a kazoo solo.
I sighed, thinking of the Beatles, and switched before the song ended to Day Tripper, a song that was most definitely not designed for piano. I wasn't going for easy, I wanted hard. I even managed to pull off one of George Harrison's sitar songs from Sgt. Pepper.
I ended up doing a complete Beatles medley, playing bits and pieces of songs, and at one point, I was trying to remember the order of the songs on side two of Abbey Road.
I switched from Beatles to Three Dog Night, and when I started playing a song I realized was "Black and White" I slammed the keyboard cover down hard and put my head in my hands and started to cry.
"Jim," my music teacher said, softly. "We need to talk."
I don't know how long he was in the room, but he was there long enough.
I hadn't noticed the time. I spent most of fifth period through eighth in the practice room. School was over, and apparently, many people were looking for me. Mr. Proilet was the first person that people checked, and, of course, he knew where I was.
As I exited the practice room, I still felt tears running down my face. Imagine my surprise when I saw Sherry, Kristen, Camille, Patty, June, Archy, Lynette, and everybody I considered to be my friend looking at me, very concerned.
"Coach Dillard told me what happened in gym," Mr. Proilet said.
"I'm a fucking asshole," I said, totally sick at everybody and everything.
Mr. Proilet shook his head. "Kristen, take him home. Keep him there for a few days. He's got a lot on his mind."
Kristen nodded, and I walked off with my Goddess.
The phone rang and I picked it up.
"Hello, Jim?"
It was June's voice.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry about today," June said.
"It's not your fault," I said.
"I'm still sorry."
"Forget it."
"I wanted to know... are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you, June!" I said.
"I've got homework tonight, but I think I can get my mom to let me go out tomorrow night. Can Cunt Whore visit you then?"
"You have an open invitation, June."
"Thanks, Jim." June hung up.
I was confused about June's call, but then I heard another click on the line, before I heard dial tone.
I remembered that kind of click when Merry was a few years younger eavesdropping on my phone calls.
There were two extensions in our apartment, but the only other person in the apartment was Kristen, who was sitting on what was usually my favorite recliner. Lynette was at the hair stylist per Kristen's orders.
I realized that somebody was listening in on June's side.
I figured that tomorrow night was going to be interesting.
I got to bed early, and Kristen didn't have a problem with that. We hugged each other tightly, and I fell asleep quite quickly.
It took a lot of convincing from Kristen for me to not go to school.
After Kristen drove off, I considered walking the three miles to the school. It wouldn't take that long, and it would give me some time to think about things.
As I was about to leave, however, the phone rang.
I picked up the phone.
"Don't even think of walking."
It was Kristen. She hung up immediately.
Am I that fucking predictable?
I went downstairs to the practice room and started taking my frustration out on my electric piano. Kristen recently purchased me an upright grand piano, which was similar to the ones at the school, and I decided that an acoustic piano was better for taking out my frustrations.
When I was angry, I played very hard.
I was in the middle of the Funeral for a Friend, from Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road intro when I saw daylight flash into the room.
I turned, while continuing to play the chromatic finale of the song that leads into Love Lies Bleeding and noticed my music teacher walk into my practice room. I stopped.
"Elton double tracked that part," Mr. Proilet said. "You're trying to play two keyboards on one to get his sound."
"Elton used a professional studio," I shrugged.
"Kristen said you'd either be here or in the next room playing pool. A lot of musicians and mathematicians play pool, you know."
"Don't you have class?" I asked.
"Teachers can take days off. Especially music teachers that only have commencement to worry about."
"I think I fucked up with June," I said, knowing that my teacher knew about the rumors.
"You fucked up. How?"
"She's black, I'm white. Everybody hates me."
"Wasn't that the idea?" Mr. Proilet asked. "Didn't you want to show everybody that your feet were made of clay?"
"I didn't want people to hate me!"
"The only people that hate you are the assholes."
"There are plenty of people that fit in that category."
Mr. Proilet laughed. "Tiny 'accidentally' bumped into Reggie Woods yesterday after the incident in the gym. He made it perfectly clear that people that aren't nice to Jim Crittenhouse will find they will have Tiny Jonas to deal with."
"Really?"
"How do you do it?" Mr. Proilet. "June and Tiny have been going together for years. You 'discover' him this year, you're best friends, and he doesn't mind you with June."
"June's mom is going to confront us tonight."
"Oh?" Mr. Proilet seemed surprised by that.
"She listened in when June called me last night. She knows that June's coming over here tonight."
"You don't seem nervous," my teacher said.
"What can June's mom do to me? I'm not her son. She can forbid June from coming, but she can't touch me. I'm younger than June, so it will be difficult to say that I'm taking advantage of her."
"For somebody so smart, you still let some assholes dictate to you."
"What do you mean?"
Mr. Proilet sighed. "If June's mom does that, she's an asshole, and you already know how to deal with her. Why can't you do that with people like Reggie?"
"He's black."
"So is June's mom."
That was true. "Well, I know why she's going to dislike me. She knows what June calls herself when she's with me."
"And nobody else does?" Mr. Proilet asked. "You call a black girl a whore, and black guys will get offended."
"June chose that name, and I never called her that."
"Did Lynette choose her name?"
Mr. Proilet seemed to be pretty well connected into the school gossip mill. "Kristen chose that one."
"I won't lie to you, Jim. I don't totally understand you. You have an amazing gift, and you know it and you use it. I've seen a lot of so-called prodigies come and go, but none of them has the drive that you have. I'm willing to call in favors to see that you develop the potential you were born with. You seem to have a perfect love life, and..."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm the most popular guy in school. The cheerleaders love me, every girl wants my baby."
"As I said, I don't understand you," Mr. Proilet said, getting back on track. "You put into motion this... this totally amazing and unexpected plan to make people think of you as a regular guy, but when they do, you retreat into yourself. Do you want that or do you not?"
"I want that."
"Then you will have to expect assholes like Reggie Woods. If you didn't have June, you could have Sherry Jordan. And then, somebody else would have a secret crush on her and resent you. When it was just you and Kristen, people resented you because they secretly wanted Kristen. When they saw what the two of you were capable of doing together, and saw that it was greater than what you did before you met her, they cut you slack. You made the right choice, and it was obvious."
"And?" I asked.
"It didn't happen overnight," Mr. Proilet said. "You won over a lot of people, including me, when you put together that 'Hooked on a Feeling' session. Do you know people are still making copies of copies of a cassette of that? Anyway, people started realizing what you and Kristen were around November. Somehow, the cheerleaders adopted you, and after the Christmas concert, you arrived. It didn't happen overnight."
Vicky
- 07.09.2022
- 7
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