MARIE (12 of 13 1/4)
FRIAR DAVE
MARIE
(copyright, the author)
(MARIE12.STY)
CHAPTER 12
Okay. So...Terry. And that's when I began to grow up, no thanks to him
or his twin, older brothers. But they were responsible for my becoming
responsible, in a way.
I was trying to hitch a ride out to the park, where a bunch of Freaks
were having a poetry reading. I was wearing one of those, uh, granny
dresses, with an empire waist high under my tits -- which were a good
30 inches, which doesn't sound like much except that the rest of me
was still kid-small -- and all sorts of billowy fabric around a 19-
inch waist and 26-inch hips, hiding it all. My hair was still long,
then, almost to the small of my back, and I was wearing a big ol'
straw hat and heart-shaped sunglasses. I figured I looked
sophisticated and mature, with my book -- Tennyson's poetry -- and my
get-up.
So when a beat up old '64 'Stang pulled over with Terrence Molinari
behind the wheel, I thought I had a lift, and that was that, I mean,
Terry was the official mascot. Really. He was too small and skinny to
play anything except intramurals, but he loved sports so much that
he'd become a cheerleader and usually dressed up as the school mascot,
in this really ratty-looking bulldog costume. Terry was nearsighted
and wore glasses that looked like Coke-bottle bottoms and always wore
a Detroit Tigers or Lions hat and had braces and was unbearably
polite. His voice cracked a lot, too, which was in keeping with his
looks, since at 16, he somehow seemed more like 13 or 14.
I went over and bent down to look through the passenger's side window.
"Hi, Terry!"
He was staring for a moment, then said, "Oh, Marie! I almost didn't
recognize you." Then I realized that he'd been staring down the front
of the dress when I bent over. "I'm, uh, going out to Bargain City.
Can I drop you somewhere?"
"Navarre Park?"
"Sure!"
It was a really sunny day, and what I was wearing turned transparent
for a moment when I was standing on the sunny side of the car. It was
a manual shift and he handled it well. He was more lean than skinny, I
realized as I watched the way the muscles on his arm corded when he
rather easily shifted the notoriously cranky Ford transmission.
"Uh, nice dress," he said. Terry was not known for reticence and it
was unlike him to seem tongue-tied. I wondered and sneaked a glance.
Little Terry had a not-so-little hard-on showing through his jeans.
"Thanks. What do you like best about it?"
He chewed his lower lip for a moment and then blurted, "What I saw
inside it oh-jeez-I-can't-believe-I-said-that."
I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. He started to blush, and I
felt bad for laughing. "Oh, Terry, you can be so sweet sometimes." I
pushed my hat back, then scooched over and kissed him on the cheek,
pressing my boobs into his arm. The blush faded, but the hard-on
visibly throbbed.
I stayed that way next to him, enjoying the effect I was having on
him. I also liked the way he smelled -- a little sweaty, but somehow
fresh and clean and sweet. My nipples were tightening when we stopped
for a light near the edge of the park and another car pulled
alongside. The horn beeped. "Hey, Terry -- hi, Marie!" It was a couple
of the guys from the basketball team. "So, Terry, finally got a
girlfriend?" They all laughed, and Terry's blush returned.
And all at once I realized that Terry had probably been the opposite
of me: a late bloomer and innocent. And that had certainly gotten him
a good deal of teasing. Yet he'd stayed loyal to the oafs who'd teased
him and treated him like a pet. So I decided to strike a blow for the
little guy, so to speak.
"I hope so," I said and caressed his face, then ran my hand down over
his chest and lower, out of sight from them. "Trust me," I whispered.
I put my hand on his thigh, but from their vantage --
Right. They went silent for a moment. I knew the way they saw me: a
sex-bomb flower child. And the runt had gotten me, when none of them
ever would. Eat your hearts out, fellas.
"The light's green," I whispered.
"So are they," he answered without moving his lips. I grinned and
kissed his neck, just behind the jawbone. He tasted of Clearasil.
"Be seein' ya, guys," he said and sedately shifted and pulled away.
The road through the park was pretty empty. "Thanks," he said quietly.
I was impressed that he knew what I'd been doing. I hadn't thought of
Terry as a very perceptive guy. Or sexy. But I was cuddling against
him and enjoying it, and he'd been perceptive, so I was changing some
attitudes on the fly, so to speak.
"Uh, where do you want me to drop you?"
I glanced down at the furiously throbbing bar within his jeans and
simply could not resist. "I was going over by the pond, for a poetry
reading, but I could be talked out of it."
He swallowed, twice, before croaking. "Uh, how?"
"By an invitation to spend some time alone with you somewhere. It
wasn't all for show, you know."
"Oh, sure, you've been fantasizing about me in the shower, huh?"
"Never." I sniffed his neck. "But -- I don't know, Terry. Right now,
something about watching you driving, feeling you all lean and hard
next to me, the way you smell -- I don't know. But I'd like us to be
alone someplace."
He took a deep breath. "I want to...do things with you. Every guy in
school does." He swallowed again. "My house should be empty."
"Should be?"
"Dad's working -- " His father owned a Texaco station. " -- and Mom is
out in Clay Center, visiting, and my brothers are out on the boat,
fishing. That's where they said they'd be."
We reached the other side of the park. He stopped at the light and
looked me right in the eye. "If you'd still like to..." He let it
trail off. "It's no problem to drop you at the poetry reading."
I slid my hand from his thigh to his bulge and squeezed. His eyes
closed, and he exhaled softly. His cock was bigger than I'd have
expected on such a little guy, and it was hard as a piece of steel. I
leaned up and kissed the point of his chin -- no Clearasil there,
thank heavens -- and said, "Will you show me your room?"
"If you insist."
I liked that.
We drove in silence for a few minutes, taking the service road
paralleling Route 280, then switched off onto old State Route 2. We
were out in Curtice, now -- farm country. It was pretty and smelled
clean. For some reason, I was very sensitive to odors that day. Lucky
for me.
For about three miles, we didn't say a word, but I finally had to ask:
"You've never made it with a girl, have you?"
He puffed up and started to try bullshitting me, but then he kind of
half-grinned and said, "No. Never even got close." He laughed sharply,
briefly, almost snorting. "Never even copped a feel."
Terry downshifted and pulled off onto a side road through some
evergreens, then turned into an almost-hidden driveway. Abruptly, we
were in front of a large garage. An old split-level ranch was
connected to it by a shingle-roofed walkway. When he turned off the
engine, I raised his right hand to my lips and kissed the palm for a
moment, then brought his hand down to rest on my left breast. He
sighed as if he'd been holding his breath.
"Now you have," I said, and pressed his hand into my breast.
"I always imagined they'd be softer, not nearly so firm," he said. "It
feels -- like coming back to a home I've never been to." He blurted it
out.
And that did it for me. I ran my arm around the back of his neck and
pulled myself up to kiss him on the lips, hard. I wanted him so badly
that I ached -- literally.
It was a long time before he calmed the frantic spearing of his tongue
into my mouth and learned to be less demanding and urgent, and then
the kiss became sweet, as well as passionate. His hand slid off my tit
and around my back and he held me close and then, suddenly, kissed my
ear. I ran my hand down over his chest and then to his crotch.
After about a minute of clutching, he said, "Want to go see my room?"
We both laughed -- but breathily.
I could only nod. He got out and came around to my side of the car and
held the door for me. Polite, like I said. I took his hand, and he led
me into the house. I remember absolutely nothing about the
furnishings; all I remember was watching his cute buns through his
jeans as he led me down a hall to a closed door with a PRIVATE sign on
it and ushered me inside...after opening the padlock and removing it
from the hasp. The boy took privacy seriously.
Terry's room matched his personality perfectly. He was nuts for
sports, and his room showed it. Hockey sticks and gloves over a
dresser neatly framed the various certificates he'd earned as
assistant manager and sometimes mascot for the various school teams --
and the sticks and gloves, like the baseball mitt and football on a
nearby shelf -- showed signs of hard use. The wallpaper was
interrupted by posters of Al Kaline and Henry Aaron and Joe Namath and
Gordie Howe and Wilt Chamberlin and the like. There were sports
magazines neatly stacked on a night table and a couple of shelves of
paperbacks mounted on the wall between the two windows. There was a
little study desk with a Tensor lamp, and on the desk, face down to
hold a place, was a paperback. I looked at the title: "Dune." He tried
to apologize, as if afraid I wouldn't think reading fantasy or science
fiction was sufficiently macho. When I told him I'd read it and really
liked --
[You did? How often?
[I've read it six or seven times. Something about it is very calming
to me. Okay?]
-- and really liked it, something in his face changed. The eagerness
was still there, but I think he was starting to see me as a person,
too, and not just this sex-bomb who was apparently going to let him Do
It With Her.
He started jabbering about the book, and what he thought was going on.
He was pacing and moving around a lot, and I knew it was just nerves,
so I decided to remind him of why I was there. I stepped into his
path, leaving my sandals behind, threw my hat on the floor and grabbed
him around the waist.
"Terrence Molinari, if you don't stop talking and start kissing, I'm
going to -- to -- hold my breath and turn blue!"
He stared at me for a moment. I took his hands and put them on my
shoulders and stretched up on tiptoes to kiss his lips lightly.
"You like?"
He nodded.
"You try it."
He did -- a brief, lovely kiss.
"Longer."
He nodded and this time, as he kissed me, his hands slid back over my
shoulders, and I grabbed him around the waist again. I could feel that
iron-hard bar of his young cock throbbing against me. I pressed closer
and the kiss got deeper. Tongues got into the action, and I felt my
juices running hot and thick.
Within a few minutes, we were running our hands all over each other,
and I had his leg trapped between my thighs. I was rubbing my cunny up
and down on his hard muscles.
I broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "Can you get my buttons?"
He blinked his eyes open at me. "Huh?"
"On the back of my dress. There're six buttons. Can you open them?"
He fumbled, and as he did, I kissed his throat and what I could reach
of his chest, breathing deeply to savor his scent. Eventually, he
managed all six buttons and also took time to kiss my ear and just
under it and give me a little lick on the side of my neck and the top
of my shoulder. There was something just slightly clumsy about it that
convinced me it was impulse and not artifice, and that made it all the
more exciting.
"Now put your hands on my shoulders," I whispered and then: "Now push
the dress down over my arms."
He did it. The low cut of the loose dress, now even looser, did the
rest with the help of Gravity. The dress began to settle, and I put my
arms at my sides, and it slid right off me and lay in a soft circle
around my feet.
His hands had stopped at my elbows, and now he held my arms lightly.
He was staring down at my tits. His mouth was open slightly, and his
breathing was short and soft and shallow. His lips had dried.
I felt my crinkly-hard nipples tighten even more, and I could smell my
own sex juices.
"Put your hands on them," I said quietly. He complied with trembling
fingers, just letting his fingertips rest on them. After a few
seconds, he began moving his palms over them, learning their curves
and contours. Finally, he pressed them slightly, then cupped them and
lifted just a bit.
It was incredibly sensual. I felt a heat in my belly and moisture on
the insides of my thighs.
"What did you imagine it would be like?" I coaxed. "What did you
imagine doing with a girl the last time you jerked off?" Before he
could answer, I said, "That's what I want you to do -- indulge
yourself."
He shook his head sharply, still caressing my boobs. "I d-don't know
what would hurt you and what might feel good -- "
"Don't worry; I'll tell you if something is uncomfortable. Why don't
you start like this -- "
I took his hand and led his fingers to my nipple. I pushed his
fingertips closed around the spiky nozzle and compressed them just a
bit. He didn't need much coaching after that. He grasped the other
nipple and began gingerly pinching and pulling and gently turning
them. Each touch and movement sent a lurching spasm through my belly
and straight to my cunt. My eyes half-closed and my knees started
trembling.
When he bent and started sucking one nipple, I came. I'd never gotten
off just like that before, so it caught me by surprise. He bent,
fastened his lips, sucked -- too hard, actually -- and ran his tongue
over the tip of my nipple and bam! just like that, I came! I shook
slightly, and my knees buckled.
Terry got scared by that and immediately stopped and caught me in his
arms. "The bed," I told him, regaining my stance. I stepped out of the
circle of my discarded dress and stepped back twice. The edge of his
bed hit the back of my legs, and I started to sit, then caught myself.
I was so wet, my cunt juice would have saturated his bedspread, which
had a baseball motif, drawings of Major Leaguers in various action
scenes. I'd almost decorated a sliding Maury Wills. I told Terry to
get a big, thick towel. He looked confused for a moment, but I just
stared at him until he disappeared through a side door. I skinned off
my sodden panties. He returned a moment later with a big beach towel.
I spread it on the bed and sat, facing him.
"C'mere." I held my arms out to him. There was a little dark stain at
the end of the lump that was madly throbbing in his crotch. I reached
up and unbuttoned his shirt, pausing to kiss his chest and then his
abdomen as more and more flesh was exposed. I pushed the shirt back,
and he got the idea, shrugging out of it as I unfastened his belt and
the waist of his jeans.
"Out of those sneakers." He worked them off without using his hands or
untying them. I leaned forward again, inhaling deeply of his scent and
feeling the juice just running out of my tight, swollen cunt. I
unsnapped his waistband and then pulled the zipper down. I squeezed
his cock through the jeans and briefs and was surprised: It seemed
even bigger and harder. I worked his jeans down over his knees, to his
ankles, and the movement caused the head of his cock to pop out of the
leg opening of his Jockeys. It really was fat, his dick, and seemed to
swell by the moment -- not longer, but thicker.
I told him to stand at the foot of the bed. As he did it, I turned and
stretched out, with my hands over my head, pushing at the head board,
and my legs crossed at the knees.
"Now take those briefs off for me," I said, surprising myself with the
rasp in my voice. "And tell me what you want to do with me in your
bed, Terry."
He started working the white cotton off his skinny hips. "I want to
suck your nipples some more and touch you all over, and then I want to
touch your -- between your legs."
Then the briefs were down, and his cock was standing straight out,
throbbing upward in time with his heart bead and bobbing stiffly as he
shifted from one foot to the other, stepping out of his underwear. His
balls looked tight and firm and full.
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
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