The Liberation Of Father Mortimer
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Swing Time Ch. 01 free porn video
All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older.
*
Eighteen-year-old Allison Katz closed her eyes and blew the last run of Artie Shaw’s Etude No. 3. The hard tip of the clarinet curved warmly in her mouth. She sucked off a drop of saliva and pulled the instrument away from her lips. Ah! It was her senior year in high school. Only music had brought her moments of bliss.
The final bell had rung forty-five minutes ago. Mr. Olaffsen didn’t mind if Allison stayed late in the music room to practice. He was pleased as hell that any student gave a damn. Besides, in this case extra practice was especially important: he and Allison were half of a quartet that would soon perform in a concert. Along with Allison’s father, Jacob Olaffsen had been encouraging the girl’s musical development for several years.
Now the young clarinetist carefully disjointed and cleaned her instrument. Allison never rushed this step, the stick had been her mother’s. Allison’s mother had died in a car accident over a decade ago. Memories of the woman were few, and fuzzy, but they were happy ones.
Her thoughts continued to wander as she applied a tiny amount of grease to the cork. Her mother probably wouldn’t have approved of what she had done with the clarinet last night. But after quite a bit of pondering, the clarinet seemed like the best choice. The mouthpiece was hard, approximately the right shape (minus the ligature, of course), and carried no social consequences.
Was this what sex would be like? Allison probed the tip of the mouthpiece between her thighs. She would have been mortified to buy condoms, but of course she wanted to protect the instrument from moisture, so she used a small plastic bag. The sensations were interesting and faintly suggestive of pleasure. Undoubtedly a boy would be different. After a few minutes of gentle prodding, she made a fist and curled her bicep in the mirror. With her other hand she felt the muscle. Would a man’s hard muscle feel about like this?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices drifting in through the open windows. The music room was on the second floor, whoever it was, was standing directly below.
The words made her hands go still and her eyes go wide.
‘This meeting of the Cherry Poppers Club will officially come to order.’
The voice belonged to Craig Stewart, football star and heart’s desire of pretty much every female in school. Craig was possessed of sexy blue eyes and wavy hair the color of a tortoiseshell kitten’s fur. His square-cut jaw was perpetually peppered with stubble and his broad shoulders were balanced by narrow hips. Once, Allison had seen him playing volleyball with his shirt off. Her cheeks had flamed a 70’s retro hot pink. What a god!
But in the space of an instant, the heart throb illusion collapsed. Allison felt nauseous as the conversation continued:
‘Jeff, how’d you do with Raven?’ Craig was addressing Jeff Mullins, South Carolina farm boy and new kid in school.
‘Gave it up on the thi’d date,’ drawled Mullins. ‘They always fall for Southe’n cha’m.’
Poor Raven! True, the girl had always been an unbearable snob to Allison. Raven often bragged about her (alleged) Cherokee blood, and was one of the most popular girls in school, along with—
‘Hillary Fairchild.’ Craig was apparently asking the next man to report in.
‘I’m making her wait.’ Hank Jones, the third boy, exhaled cigarette smoke. The stink wafted up through the window. ‘Two weeks from now, I guarantee she’ll be on her knees and begging for it.’
Allison nearly wept. There was no love lost between her and Hillary, either, but it sickened her to hear these women degraded. Then Allison had a selfish moment: at least she, unpopular Allison Katz, was not the subject of this sordid conversation. She wasn’t overly beautiful, and playing the clarinet did not exactly generate the buzz of athletic accomplishment. She was safe.
Hank continued: ‘What about you, Craig-o?’
‘Hm, I’m in the mood for someone different. Someone who won’t give it up too easy.’
The boys swatted around names of their female classmates. Then Hank snapped his fingers. ‘I know. Allison Katz.’
‘The band kid?? Don’t make me laugh.’
‘She’s kind of cute, really,’ pondered Jeff.
‘What’s the matter? Think you can’t take her?’ Hank sneered at Craig.
Craig snorted. ‘She’d give it up for me in a heartbeat. No challenge there.’
‘Don’t be so shu’ about that. I’d peg huh as one of the good gi’ls.’ Jeff sounded thoughtful. Then he said: ‘Race ya.’
‘You’re on.’ There was a slapping sound as the two clasped hands.
Allison’s disgust turned to rage. How dare they! As if she were some, some thing available for purchase, — some whore with no will of her own! Her fingers shook as she put away her clarinet.
As she pulled on her jacket and reached for the light, she stopped. Would they notice the light flicking off, and realize someone might have overheard? Then her lips flinched back in an angry smile. Let them! She gave the switch a sharp smack.
‘Hey. Did that light just go off?’ Jeff pointed up toward the music room.
‘Probably just old man Olaffsen. What’s he gonna do?’
It was true that the music teacher’s face was lined and his crew cut was iron grey. But his posture was ramrod straight, he never hunched or slouched, even when seated behind his drums. Despite the years, his demeanor still held a devildog snap. The boys would never dare to jeer to his face.
* * *
Allison jumped on her bike and sped toward the warm yellow lights of home. Her dad would be cooking, and after that, her friend David Hemingway was coming over and the three of them would practice for the fall concert. The normal events sounded rushingly good right now.
She clattered into the kitchen and was instantly greeted by the rich scent of beef stroganoff.
‘Hiya, Punkin.’ Her dad looked up with his lopsided grin. He doused the bubbling sauce with red wine straight from the bottle. As he stirred, he added, ‘Go wash your hands. Dinner’s about ready.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ Allison put her backpack on the sofa and was headed toward the little half-bath when someone knocked on the front door. It was David.
‘Sorry I’m early,’ he began, then saw the plates on the table. The scent of the food socked him in the nose. He shifted on his feet.
‘Oh. I can come back later.’
‘That’s all right, Dave, come on in,’ called Stan Katz. ‘There’s plenty for everybody.’ The high school senior’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘Great.’
David and Allison had known each other since grade school. She was ignorant of his crush. Allison’s dad looked on with faint amusement, even as he felt sorry for the boy. A young girl like his daughter could break a young man’s heart without even knowing what she was doing.
It was David who had suggested a concert of swing music to coincide with homecoming. Stan knew exactly why: numerous rehearsals would be necessary. Allison had recently become fascinated with the genre. David thus contrived to spend several hours with the young lady, without the risk of asking her out and possibly being turned down.
The only problem was that, to Allison, David was an ordinary feature in the landscape. They had suffered through music lessons in grade school, and as their skills improved, enjoyed orchestra in middle school and high school together.
Their advanced study had been due to luck and property taxes: program cuts had left the musical instruments programs intact. The choir had not been so lucky, despite Mr. Olaffsen’s argument that ‘the voice is also an instrument!’ He had not been successful in keeping all of the programs alive.
But David’s world did not include administrative politics. Of greater concern was his failure to resemble Mr. Universe. His frame was wiry rather than jock-like, and his hands were
more like those of a pianist, which he was, than a boxer, which he certainly was not.
And now time was running out. David figured he had to get next to Allison before they picked their respective colleges, or they’d go their separate ways and he’d never see her again. Music was the only weapon in his arsenal. He meant to use it to full advantage.
‘You okay, Allie?’
‘Sure, Dad.’ Her tone sounded forced. ‘Pass the green beans?’
David was just as near, so he handed over the dish. He, too, thought Allison had been acting a little weird. He could see she didn’t want to talk about it, so he changed the subject: ‘Great dinner, Mr. K.’
‘Thanks.’ Stan beamed and David joked in return, ‘No, thank you.’
‘Oh, no, oh, no, thank you.’
Allison made a goofy grin and thanked her dad. Pretty soon they were all thanking each other with the familial ease of a lame joke. Allison felt better. Somehow she knew right then that no one could hurt her.
Then she remembered someone who could be hurt: Hillary Fairchild. Quickly she finished her dinner and excused herself, saying she would be right back. She pounded up the stairs, two at a time, leaving Dave and Stan sharing a puzzled look.
As fast as she could, Allison fired up her computer and opened a new email account. Hillary, Hillary, where are you? She had to scroll through some old messages to find her classmate’s address. There was no time for eloquence, so her warning was crude. Hell, it was probably none of her damn business. A better course of action would be to butt out. Regardless, Allison felt compelled to try.
Grabbing a hairclip, Allison rushed back down and made a bee line for the kitchen. David was almost done loading the dishwasher. ‘I see my timing is perfect!’ she joked.
‘As always. Hey, are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Come on, let’s get started.’
* * *
Hillary slid into the booth across from her date. She stared at him, wondering how well she really knew him, and whether having sex with this guy was such a good idea.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Hank.
‘Just have a question for you.’
‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’ He smiled and sipped at his ice water. The waitress appeared, notepad in hand.
Hillary looked at the woman coolly. ‘Could we have another minute, please.’
The waitress dipped her chin once and left as silently as she came.
‘So what’s on your mind?’
Brightly Hillary asked, ‘How are things going with the Cherry Poppers Club?’
Hank choked on his drink, splattering cold water in awkward places. A line of red crept up his face. ‘I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do.’ In a cold fury the young woman dug a piece of paper out of her purse and flung it across the table at him. Hank’s mouth dropped open as he read the email printout:
Hillary, Stay away from Hank Jones, he means you harm! He is a member of the Cherry Poppers Club along with Jeff Mullins and Craig Stewart. They already got Raven! Sincerely,
A friend.
‘Where did you get this?!’ Hank gawped at the paper. His glance fell upon the return address. ‘Who’s Black1?’
‘Why don’t you just tell me the truth?’ Hillary’s anger was palpable. Her blonde ringlets were shivering.
‘Look, look wait! It was, it was a gag, all right, it was a joke—’
‘Then how come you said you didn’t know anything about it? It doesn’t matter, you’re a liar,’ she spat. Eyes blazing, she picked up her purse and flounced out of the restaurant, pausing only long enough to grab the piece of paper off the table.
Her date called after her, but she ignored him.
* * *
David stretched his fingers and shook out his hands. He’d been playing the piano for nearly ninety minutes. That was the nice thing about rehearsing with Allie and her dad — they actually practiced. Most of his peers devoted practice time to horsing around, which was frustrating for anyone who actually wanted to play.
‘Nice pickin’.’ He grinned at Stan.
The older man smiled in return and leaned the string bass into its stand. ‘Not so bad yourself.’
‘When do we meet next with Mr. Olaffsen?’
‘I talked with him today, he can do either Thursday or Friday night,’ Stan answered. They’d meet at the high school, where Jake Olaffsen’s drum kit was already set up. It was a pain in the ass to tear down, move it, and set up elsewhere.
Dave looked at Allison, who shrugged. ‘Makes no difference to me.’
‘How about Friday, then?’ It would almost be like having a date with Allison on Friday night.
‘Great!’ Stan looked happy. It really knocked his socks off that his kid would enjoy jamming with him on a Friday night. So many parents never got the chance. He felt sorry for them.
‘There’s one more thing we need to settle, guys.’
‘Oh, yeah, what’s that?’ asked Allison.
Dave knew the answer. ‘What to call our band. I’ve been thinking about that,’ he said with a sly look. He twinkled a big flourish on the keys. ‘Swing Time!’
‘Cool!’ exclaimed Allie and Stan said, ‘I like it!’
They shared a look of universal yes. Heads nodded all around. ‘Swing Time.’
* * *
‘Get outta here!’
Craig Stewart jumped, then realized Allison Katz was singing, not yelling. He was hiding behind the costume rack in her dressing room.
‘Get me some money, too…’ Allison sang. This would be the trickiest number. She’d be alternating between singing and blowing her horn. But ever since she had seen that old Peggy Lee and Benny Goodman video on YouTube, she simply had to perform it. Benny’s enthusiasm was infectious, even across time and through the crackly old black and white media.
Allison wished her voice was better than passable. She would have loved to find a torch singer like Peggy Lee, but hadn’t had any luck. The lack of a school choir made it impossible to pinpoint local talent. So she braved the notes herself: ‘Why don’t you do right … like some other men do…?’ And technically it should have been a big band production. But the spare quartet sounded fine in rehearsal, and besides, David would really have a chance to shine on this one.
Still humming, Allison peeled off her jeans and sweatshirt. She shimmied in front of the big dressing room mirror, unaware that a member of the Cherry Poppers Club was getting an eyeful.
Craig studied his target critically. Her breasts were small, but perky. He thought of how sweet her tits would taste. Oh, yeah, she was a bit on the skinny side, but if she could move like that, she’d be a nice ride. And he’d show her a good time as well. This was going to be fun. His cock remained at true north while he watched her prance around.
Then he almost made a sound. Allison was taking off her bra. Yes!! She was fondling herself in the mirror. The young woman turned sideways, eying her profile. It wasn’t hard to tell what she was thinking. Plainly she was wondering if she was attractive, probably comparing herself to other girls. She held up her breasts and squashed them a little, trying out the look of a tight bustier.
With a sigh, she gave up and reached for another flimsy undergarment. This one was white, too. Craig watch with extra interest as his peer fiddled with the straps, twining them into some kind of X shape across her lower back. Women did the strangest things for the sake of fashion.
Whoooo, there went the ordinary cotton panties. After a flash of bare bottom, they were replaced by a lacy scrap that he yearned to touch, to tug at. Maybe he could even sweet-talk her tonight, on the pretext of congratulations. No doubt roses would sweep her off her feet. He’d miss part of the concert while he went out to buy them, but so what? Craig hadn’t the faintest interest in Allison’s passion … only his own.
Allie wiggled into a strapless white fifties-style dress. She was limber enough to zip up the back by herse
lf, though Craig had a fleeting urge to help her with it — almost as if he were her friend, or boyfriend, and they were going out somewhere together. He drew himself up short. They would never be friends. Oh, he might charm her, spend some coin to feed or amuse her, but he’d never lose sight of his sole objective. He was the hunter and she, the prey. Once he fucked her, their relationship would end. It was that simple, and he’d do well to keep things clear in his mind.
Now she was fussing with her makeup, and Craig found himself wishing he could leave. Suddenly there was something pathetic about this young lady trying so hard to look nice. He was starting to feel bad about invading her privacy, and that pissed him off. He told himself he’d be doing her a favor by making her big night even bigger. He was still trying to convince himself when she left for the stage.
* * *
Stan: And, every time it rains, it rains, pennies from heaven.
Jake and Dave: Shoo-be-doo-be!
Stan: Don’t you know each cloud contains, pennies from heaven.
Jake and Dave: Shoo-be-doo-be!
Stan: You’ll find your fortune falling, all over town. Be sure that your umbrella is up-up-up-up-upside down…. Trade them for a package of sunshine and ravioli.
Jake and Dave: Macaroni!
Lacy and Frank Mullins looked at each other with delight. These guys were great! As one, they got up and danced. Other couples quickly followed their lead. The musicians were ecstatic, the teenage offspring of the moms and dads were horrified.
Jeff Mullins looked on, appalled and embarrassed, as his parents swung with abandon. He smacked his hand over his eyes. He would absolutely never live this down.
Stan: Now come over here, girl! Allie! And every time it rains, it rains!
Allison: Bop bop, bop-ba-bah!
Stan: And don’t you know each cloud contains!
Allison: Bop bop, bop-ba-BAH!
Stan: Every time it rains, it rains!
Allison: Bop bop, bop-ba-bah!
Stan: And don’t you know each cloud contains—
Allison: Bop-ah-dop-ah, bop-ah-dah!
Jeff sank low in his chair, trying to disappear. He scowled at the performers, even as he noticed again how pretty Allison looked. The black clarinet stood out against her white dress.
Suddenly he leaned forward in his chair, staring hard at the instrument. Black1. The black stick resembled a number one. His mouth fell open slightly as another memory clicked into place. A memory of a light turning off in a music room, as he and his cronies discussed … their private business …
Jeff leapt from his chair and scuttled from the room that was now in full swing with dancers and happy music. He had to find Craig and Hank.
* * *
Craig knocked on Allison’s dressing room door. She answered quickly, breathlessly, but her eager face fell as she saw who it was. ‘Oh.’
The young man bulled ahead. He showed her the dozen red roses he’d been hiding behind his back. ‘Congratulations on a fabulous performance!’ He settled the flowers into her arms.
Automatically she received them. Her caller took the opportunity to nudge his way into the room and close the door behind him. He would have locked it, but the high school was not crazy enough to install locks on student dressing room doors.
‘Thanks!’ Allison’s voice piped out like the clumsy efforts of a first-grade clarinet player. She looked around, still feeling off-balance by the unexpected visit. ‘I, uh, don’t seem to have a vase. I’ll just go find one,’ and she made for the door.
Craig blocked her path. He put his arms around her and did the look-deep-in-my-eyes thing. ‘Why fight it, Allie? I’ve seen how you look at me. Let’s make your big night even more special.’
‘No!’ Allison came to her senses. She placed a firm hand against the football player’s chest, trying to push him away. It was like pushing against a wall.
Her would-be lover pushed his lips against hers. The result of his caress was not swooning, but panic.
‘Ow!’ Craig pulled away and felt at his mouth. ‘You bit me!’ Blood decorated his fingertips. ‘You bitch! I tried to play nice with you!’
Everything happened at once. Allison shrieked. Craig put his hand over her mouth and began to demonstrate wrestling maneuvers that were far beyond her ken. David heard the noise and burst in without knocking. Jeff and Hank, who had been hiding behind the costume rack, jumped out and all hell broke loose.
Mara
- 26.08.2022
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