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AmyBeth's Diary (f+m+, love, cons.)
(C) 2000
by Abelard
[Warning: If it is illegal for you to read sex stuff, my condolences, but
fuck off. The events depicted in this story are performed strictly in the
imagination of a professional. No not try this shit at home. If you read on,
please maintain at least one hand on your controls at all times. If you
wanna' publish this story for profit, ya' better ask me first. Finally, tell
me what you think at <Abelard_Fra@hotmail.com>.
The tale of a woman's sexual awakening, as she remembers it from her early
diaries.
AMYBETH'S DIARY
For a time, between the ages of seven and eighteen, I kept diaries
regularly, except during the summer months. Thereafter my jottings became
more sporadic, but I still measure out my life in coffee spoons ... and
spoonsful of ink ... when I can manage.
Recently I have been re-reading the sometimes cryptic messages I left to
myself as a child. The experience has been like looking back into a long
tunnel, then suddenly finding myself in the wonderland of my own past,
complete with white rabbits, wicked queens, roses...and thorns. Enrollment
in an adult creative writing class has inspired me go back and attempt to
recreate more fully some of the events I recorded during my not so innocent
youth.
The problem is, however, that my childhood diaries consist of eleven
volumes and thousands of entries. Most of the entries concern relatively
innocent events in my life: mundane events at school, observations about the
passing scene, agonies over my slow physical development, even a number of
thoughts about what I was reading at the time. I was always a good student.
I remain an avid reader.
In an effort to make this present work more than a private entertainment
and a public bore, however, I have decided to focus on my own sexual
awakening. I will proceed by quoting an original entry from one of my
journals (normalized for spelling and punctuation) and following it with my
current attempt to breathe life into what actually took place "way back
then."
As I worked my way through my diaries, I found myself reliving the events.
I have included interruptions "back to the present," however, just to remind
myself and you, gentle reader, that the voice you are hearing is not that of
an adolescent girl but that of a thirty-five year old wife and mother. I
would never publicly admit to some of the things I reveal here, nor do I
habitually use the vocabulary you will come across, but anonymity has given
me the courage to tell it all, "down and dirty."
In what follows I shall call myself Amybeth Sunstrom, which is close enough
to suggest my real Finnish ancestry. Physically, my brother, whom I shall
call Jeremy, was (and is) sandy haired and squarely built like my father.
My mother and I are both willowy. As a child I had the typical Finnish
"corn-silk" hair which time has darkened to a honey blonde. I was a small
and agile child, who loved dancing classes, and I was a painfully "late
bloomer."
I apologize to Jeremy, and, indeed, to all my childhood friends, especially
Judy, for some of the things I am about to say about them. If this little
work ever sees the light of day, and any of you out there recognize
yourselves in the following, I can only urge upon you what is a recurrent
theme in the diaries...shut up, and nobody will know.
Finally, Ricky ... wherever you are...I will never forget you. I thank you
from the bottom of my heart. (So, incidentally, does my husband.) We still
hear about you occasionally. And when I recognize your photography in
National Geographic, or some other magazine these days, I get a special
thrill...and remember you fondly.
Where to begin?
SEPTEMBER 5, 1973
...CAUGHT REM IN MY ROOM. WE "PUNISHED" HIM AND THEN PLAYED WITH HIM.
JUDY KISSED HIS PENIS. SHE SHOWED ME HOW TO "FRENCH."
Although it occurred when I was really pretty young, I have decided to
start with this entry because it is so typical of the cryptic entries I
often made...particularly about sexual matters. It is also pretty racy.
Here is what happened:
Rem was (is) my little brother Jeremy, who was eight at the time. My "best
friend," Judy Jameison, and I were ten, and starting fifth grade. I was
ever in awe of Judy's daredevil antics, and although I frequently knew what
was likely to happen, I was usually a willing participant in her schemes.
Judy was always quick to see the sexual side of a situation, or to turn it
into one.
On this particular occasion, Jeremy had been "spying" on us for about a
week, "accidentally" walking into the bathroom at inappropriate times,
hiding under my bed while Judy and I talked about boys, etc. We decided we
would lay a trap for him.
Coming home on the school bus, with Jeremy sitting in the seat behind us,
eavesdropping as usual, Judy started to talk about some pictures she had
found in her big brother's room..."those kind" of pictures. She claimed she
had them with her and would show them to me when we got to my house.
As we came up my front walk, I could see my mother working in the garden.
We dashed up to my room while Jeremy headed, as usual, for the kitchen.
There were no pictures, of course, but, without a clear plan (that I was
aware of) we rehearsed a few lines while I changed out of my school clothes
and into Bermuda shorts. As we were coming down the stairs, I said, loudly,
"Oh, we forgot the pictures. We left them on my desk." And Judy
practically yelled, "Oh, that's alright. We'll get them later. Let's go
over to my house now."
You can guess how long it took Jeremy to scoot up the stairs and head
straight for my room. Naturally, we never left the house. We just counted
to ten and then went piling back up the stairs to nail my little brother.
Judy and I grabbed him, and then (uh, oh!) Judy got one of her wicked
looks. She told me to hold him while she pulled his pants down. "Sauce for
the goose...," says Judy. "Now you are going to pay," says Judy. "You are
going to be our slave! You have to do everything we say, and you can't put
your clothes back on until we say so!"
Well, this did not faze my rammy little brother one little bit, of course.
We wrestled him to the floor while he put up what I could tell was a phony
struggle. I eventually ended up holding him facedown in my lap as he lay on
his stomach on the floor. Jeremy's arms were around my waist, and he began
grabbing at my bum. I started giggling, and suddenly Jeremy had his chin in
a VERY SENSITIVE PLACE. (I always capitalized things like this in my
diaries.) At any rate, with his mouth biting on my pubic bone, Jeremy began
deliberately drooling and moving his jaw around.
I said "YUCK!" and pushed him away.
Meanwhile, Judy had pulled his sneakers off and had his pants off one leg,
but when I released him he was free to squirm and kick. Judy wrapped her
legs around Jeremy's middle and squeezed. She was still in her school
clothes, of course, and her skirt was up around her waist. Jeremy grabbed
at her midsection and ripped the tops of her underpants down. The elastic
broke, and her panties sagged around her hips.
Judy got mad, and commanded that Jeremy stand up and take off the rest of
his clothes, himself. For some unknown reason he just obeyed. There was my
eight-year-old brother, all 4 foot nothing of him, naked, with his little
pecker (his term) sticking out.
Judy decided that we would be Princesses of the Nile, and Jeremy would be
our slave. He would have to do everything we told him to do. Well,
naturally, WE had to strip and deck ourselves in my chiffon scarves from
dancing class. Judy said we would be Salome in the Dance of the Seven
Veils.
Jeremy had to stand still in the middle of the room with his hands down at
his sides, while Judy and I danced around him, nude, shedding the veils.
Jeremy was being very docile (for Jeremy) and he got this stupid grin on his
face. I must admit, even though he was my own little brother, he looked
pretty cute.
I guess Judy thought so too, because when Jeremy started shivering, she
grabbed him up and cuddled him on my bed. Slowly he relaxed, and that's
when she began caressing him on the chest, and then, ALL OVER!
I knew we were getting into really dangerous territory, but a glance out
the window told me that my mother was still up to her elbows in the
flowerbeds.
When I looked back at Judy and Jeremy, Jeremy looked all soft, and warm,
and little-boy cute. I remember thinking that he looked like a slightly
overgrown cherub from the Sistine Chapel. I just couldn't resist, so I got
on the other side of him and began cuddling him too.
I should have known that this would only cause Judy to escalate. She got
up on her knees, in the nude, bent over him, and started kissing him ALL
OVER! I watched in utter amazement as her long brown hair fell over him and
she kissed her way from his chin down to his little boy penis.
She kept kissing up and down Jeremy's stomach and Jeremy got this funny
look on his face, and began to stiffen his legs and tighten up his belly.
He didn't ejaculate that I could tell, (I had a vague notion of the subject
at the time) but he was definitely having a good time.
Judy was pretty "swoony" (our word) herself, especially when Jeremy cuddled
right in to her and began contentedly suckling at one of her little pink
marshmallowy breasts. Judy developed early, and even at ten, she had a
definite swelling at the nipples. I remember thinking the scene looked like
some sort of weird "Madonna and Child" tableau.
After that we hugged, and kissed each other, all three of us, and generally
rolled around on each other's bodies. Judy and I practiced kissing, and Judy
showed me how to "French."
When Judy stuck her tongue in my mouth, I felt pretty goofy.
Eventually we made Jeremy get dressed again, and told him that if he
breathed a word of this to anyone, we would NEVER, NEVER, NEVER play with
him like this again.
SEPTEMBER 7, 1973
...PUD! (SHORT FOR PUDENDUM). PRONOUNCED, POOD, LIKE FOOD. REM SAID,
"HOLE" AT DINNER. THAT SET OFF THE BOOKS AND DIAGRAMS. FALLOPIAN TUBES,
VAGINAS, PENISES, EGGS, SPERMS, EVERYTHING. REM WANTED TO KNOW HOW BABIES
GOT "IN" THERE. MOM AND DAD WOULDN'T SAY, SO I SAID, "BY FUCKING." AND WE
HAD TO TALK ABOUT THAT, TOO.
Sex education at the Sunstrom house. Looking back on it, noticing that it
followed so soon after the previous incident, I would guess that Judy and I
had rather "revved" Jeremy's imagination. Also, I was not usually so bold
around my parents as I was on this occasion, but Jeremy was probably pissing
me off one way or another.
I have since come to appreciate that my parents were very liberal and
concerned that we learn, at an early age, and only academically to be sure,
what there was to learn about sex.
Thirteen months later, this:
OCTOBER 4, 1974
SAW BRAD'S PENIS. SAW BRAD MASTURBATE!
One of the highlights of my prepubescent career! Brad was (is) Judy's
brother. At the time, he was fourteen and we were eleven. Judy, ever the
smut hound, wanted to see why Brad was spending so much time alone in his
room. (As if we didn't know!)
It sounded pretty interesting, if dangerous, to me. I pretended to be bored
until Judy laid on me the "you're my best friend in the whole world..."
routine, which meant, of course, "Do it, or else..."
I was worried because Brad was always telling Judy and me to stay out of
his room...referring to us as "the children" to his parents (as in, he
didn't want "the children" messing with his stuff). I remember thinking he
was getting pretty damn superior! It was only the previous year that we
had seen him, as an eighth grader, get 'pantsed' by some older boys, his
scrawny little bum sticking out for all in the park to see.
He had "developed" in the year since, though. At fourteen he had muscles,
and strong legs, and a tight little bum. He was a running back on the
freshman football team. Brad The Jock.
Anyway, Judy and I went on "Mission Impossible" and snuck into Brad's room
before he came home from football practice. We hid in his closet, which was
a long affair with sliding, slatted doors.
One end, inconvenient to get into because the side of Brad's bed was close
to it, made a fairly secure hiding place, especially after we moved some
coats down toward the open end. We managed to loosen one of the slats a
little so it afforded a fair-to-middling view of the room without exposing
our position in the closet, or so we hoped.
We sat for a long time in that hot and close place and were about to
"abandon the mission" when we heard Brad come home. He seemed to take an
eternity downstairs, but eventually he came up to his room, big as life,
After the quiet and relative security we had sat through for the previous
half hour, his presence filled the room and was pretty terrifying. He
kicked his door closed, dumped his books, and started shedding his clothes,
tossing them all over the place. When he got down to his jockey shorts, he
wiggled, and scratched, and rubbed, and I could see that, IF WE LIVED,
PLEASE GOD, our mission was going to be a success.
Brad went to his dresser, took out a magazine, and lay down on his
bed...which was, maybe, TWO FEET from our noses!
We were trapped, and I probably made a squeak. Brad didn't notice though,
and old daredevil Judy just put one hand over her own mouth and one over
mine, while her eyes got very big.
It's a good thing she had her hand over my mouth, or I really would have
shrieked when I looked at her. She had hiked her school skirt up around her
hips (again), and somehow, she had TAKEN OFF HER PANTIES! AND, she was
sitting on the toe of one of Brad's sneakers, MOVING UP AND DOWN!
I managed to keep quiet, out of sheer panic.
Eventually I tried to take her hand away from my mouth, but she wanted to
keep it there, so we had a little silent struggle. Her hand slipped down
and popped the top button off my blouse. Then, HER HAND SLID INTO MY BLOUSE!
I just stared at her, but Judy, the slut, just kept her hand in there,
and even began moving it around, feeling up my nearly flat (BUT NOT
ALTOGETHER UNSENSITIVE!) chest.
Meanwhile, Brad had taken off his underpants and was lying on his bed,
looking at Miss September and playing with himself. As he began rubbing
faster and faster, I heard Judy give a little sigh, so I glanced back at
her. She'd let go of me, and was lying back against the wall of the closet,
moving her hand DOWN THERE (as we used to say) more or less at the same pace
that Brad was moving his!.
I will admit that it looked pretty interesting, and I started doing it to
myself, outside my underpants.
Suddenly, Brad groaned and began flopping around on his bed. I looked out
just in time to see great gobs of semen come flying out of the top of his
penis, RIGHT AT ME!
It splattered against the closet door and oozed down in globs between the
slats.
Both Judy and I stopped and just stared.
Brad rolled over and lay still.
We were petrified!
What if he fell asleep?
HOW WOULD WE EVER GET OUT OF THE CLOSET?
But after about a minute or two Brad got up and went into the bathroom.
Judy and I made a run for it, giggling all the way.
Apparently, Judy scooped up some of Brad's "jizz" (her word) on the way
out, because when we were safely in Judy's room she PUT SOME IN HER MOUTH,
and offered me some.
I probably said something like, "Yuck! Maybe next time!"
I do remember that she said it smelled a little like clorox, but it didn't
taste like much of anything, maybe a little fishy. It was mostly just
slimey-slippery.
Almost two years later:
JULY 1976
POOL PARTY!
Although the event occurred during the summer, when I didn't ordinarily
keep a diary, these are the first words in my new diary in September of that
year. Again, the entry is a masterpiece of non-information. I don't need
a refresher on the details, however. I remember the events VIVIDLY. This
became known in my circle as THE pool party.
It started out with six girls, about to enter eighth grade, plus Jeremy,
then a husky eleven year old. The party was at Judy's backyard pool. The
Jameisons' (Brad and Judy's parents) hired Brad, who was about to be a high
school junior, and was becoming a major football hero and heartthrob, to
lifeguard.
Why they felt they could leave us otherwise unchaperoned, I will never
know, but the Jameisons blithely waved good-bye as they drove away in their
Volvo. They were not out of the driveway five minutes before three of
Brad's teammates wheeled up, dressed in cut-offs and football jerseys. We
girls, of course, were in eighth grade heaven.
The scene, dear reader, was this: Four major high school studs...six
soon-to-be eighth grade girls. Plus Mr. Chaos Theory on two legs, Jeremy.
The high school boys were actually being very nice, throwing a football,
chatting with Brad, even dancing with us sometimes to the music on Judy's
stereo. Disco was in, and the BeeGees were "Stayin' Alive."
Suddenly Jeremy surfaced in the pool with Linda Thorson's bikini bottoms!
They had apparently slipped when she dived, and, Jeremy, ever the
opportunist, had somehow got them completely off her. He was swimming into
the shallow end, waiving his prize in the air. Looking back on it, I
realize that Linda was probably not altogether uncooperative in their
loss...she may even have taken them off herself and handed them to him.
Linda was regular strawberry-blonde Viking goddess, considerably more
"developed" than poor little old me. She went churning after Jeremy and
caught him at the shallow end, just before the steps.
He threw her bikini bottoms into the bushes beside the pool, but she yanked
HIS swim trunks off HIM and waved them up over her head out of his reach.
One of the older boys retrieved her bottoms, and was bringing them to her,
when, >BLAAM< there seemed almost literally to be a >FLASH< in the air, and
we moved into a parallel, sexually charged, dimension! The boys began
tossing Linda's bikini bottoms around, and the language got lewd.
Too little, too late, Brad decided that he'd better at least try to restore
order. Instead of retrieving her suit, however, he yelled at Linda to give
him Jeremy's suit. Linda just stuck her tongue out at him and told him
that if he wanted Jeremy's trunks he could come get them!
The rest of us, boys included, started cheering for Linda. Brad hesitated,
but then Judy issued the ultimate teenage challenge by calling her brother
chicken.
He jumped into the pool, feet first, and landed nearly on top of Linda. He
grabbed for Jeremy's bathingsuit but succeeded only in dislodging the rest
of Linda's!
Meanwhile, she threw Jeremy's bathingsuit to Suzie Randall, who was sitting
at the edge of the pool. Jeremy jumped out of the pool, naked as a jaybird,
and ran at Suzie.
He, of course, didn't give a damn about his bathingsuit, and when he got to
Suzie, he pulled the strings on her top so that it collapsed down her front
like a dying parachute. I remember thinking, weren't ANY of my friends as
undeveloped as I was? MEANWHILE! Three of us jumped on Brad. Linda
grabbed HIS Speedo and practically tore it off him. Naturally there was a
lot of grabbing and shoving and several of us lost various parts of our
suits too.
Then Brad called for towels for himself and for Linda, but nobody much was
interested in helping out, so Brad climbed out of the pool
himself...starkers (as we used to say). I noticed that his tan accentuated
the whiteness of his bum...if any of us had been looking at his bum.
The "guys" were guffawing and poking each other. Brad wrapped himself in
a towel and got one for Linda, but he made her come out of the pool to get
it. I stared in amazement as Linda stood straight up and walked proudly out
of the pool. As I said, she was more or less fully mature, with pubic hair
that was a little darker than her strawberry blonde mop, and what I thought
at the time were humongous breasts. She walked right up to Brad, and he
wrapped her in his arms as he wrapped her in the towel.
She nestled in sweetly under his arm, and looked up at him. They went,
with his arm around her shoulder to gather his suit and hers, and then they
DISAPPEARED INTO THE HOUSE!
If you don't think that got the atmosphere heavily charged with adolescent
sexual excitement, think again!
The boys sat down, and we girls, all fully covered again, at least in
bikinis, started boogying to the music, just to relieve the tension.
Soon, however, Judy (good old Judy) started to "dance for the boys,"
wiggling her fanny in Daryll Johnston's face, and pretending to open her
bikini bra, which clasped in the front. The boys began clapping in rhythm,
and some of the rest of us got to showing off too. Tommy Sewell suggested
that we have a dance and beauty contest, where each of us would dance, in
turn, and the boys would "award the prizes."
That was okay with me (as long as I could keep my suit on). The boys lay
down on the chaises where, no doubt, visions of Roman orgies danced in their
heads. When it was her turn, Suzie stuck her butt in Steve Halford's face,
and he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.
Judy began what I have since come to recognize as "couch dancing" over
Tommy. Still wearing her bikini, she straddled his chaise, which was so
wide that it made her squat quite a bit, of course. She kind of swayed
around just above him, teasing. When she slipped and actually sat right in
his lap, straddling him, Tommy tried to keep her there. Things were
definitely getting out of hand!
Darryll was holding me by my hand and wanted to kiss me. I was bending
over him, almost mouth to mouth, when Katie Halberson yelped. The
Jameison's were pulling up in their Volvo!
DAMN!
But Lord only knows what would have happened if they hadn't come home when
they did!
We all scrambled for it. Most of us jumped into the pool, while the boys
made adjustments to their clothing and looked sheepish.
Mrs. Jameison came up, did a quick survey, and asked where was Brad? We
pointed toward the house and held our breath.
There was a pregnant silence (so to speak) for several minutes, then some
banging of doors, and then Dr. Jameison was driving Linda out the driveway.
What happened inside Jameisons' house, I will never know. Judy was outside,
of course, and Brad was not talking. Omerta, the code of silence, ruled.
I did learn, according to Linda, that Dr. Jameison was more embarrassed than
she was on the ride home, and just let her off at the curb in front of her
house.
That night, Jeremy promised not to say a word, if I allowed him certain
"privileges."
I told him I'd allow him the privilege of going on living as long as he
kept his mouth shut. I reminded him that he was the one who started it all.
I CAN tell you that Linda became VERY popular with the football team.
The next entry is, again, thirteen months later. Judy and I often seemed to
like the same boys, a competition she invariably won. At fourteen, I was
still only about five feet tall. Between that summer and the next, however,
I grew four inches. I was beginning my "giraffe" period, all spindly legs,
thin arms, and long neck.
Judy on the other hand was nearly in full bloom, and, although still
technically a virgin, she was much more experienced than I. She and I
talked incessantly about IT, of course, and I had even read both Lady
Chatterly's Lover and Peyton Place; but except for kissing and some very
mild petting with clumsy eighth grade boys, I was totally without first hand
knowledge.
Our rivalry was about to heat up:
SEPTEMBER 26, 1977
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT ,SHIT. WHAT HAVE I DONE? ...
Hell of a way to announce the loss of my virginity, eh? Ricky, I
apologize. Needless to say, I remember this scene like it was yesterday.
It was still pretty warm in...(think of it as southern New Jersey, the
Delaware Valley...yeah, that's the ticket...) and, even though we'd been
back in school for almost a month, we were still swimming on the weekends,
and, except for school, everybody was living like it was still summer.
Ricky Lawrence was still mowing our lawn every Saturday.
Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. I swoon still, thinking back on him. ...Ricky
was17, at least six foot one, and a senior. We were freshmen, and, at
fourteen, I was FINALLY starting to "develop." Ricky was a standout on the
tennis team. Long and lean, he had brown eyes, brown preppy hair (long on
top, short on the sides) and moved with a gliding, seemingly effortless
grace. He was also the photographer for the school paper. A freshman girl's
dream!
Anyway, Judy decided we should sunbathe behind her cabana, which was really
just a shed for pool equipment. There was a little space of lawn between
the cabana and the back fence. My house was on the next street, but
directly behind Jameisons, and Judy wanted to drag a couple of pool chaises
around and lay out, while we watched Ricky mow my lawn.
I didn't mind.
As we watched Ricky at work, he took off his t-shirt, and we admired his
wide shoulders and long, strong arms. All he had on were sneakers (no
socks) and some very old tennis shorts, the short-shorts kind. Judy and I
began to list his assets to each other. We got pretty bawdy.
Between the noisy mower, the screen of bushes, and his own concentration
on the job, he didn't seem to notice us. As he was finishing up, raking some
of the clippings back by the fence, we could see that he was very sweaty,
and probably pretty itchy. Thinking he was alone, he frequently adjusted his
crotch, much to Judy's and my entertainment.
All of a sudden Judy called out, "Hiii, Rickeee," in a slinky, come hither
voice. Ricky jumped and looked up.
Judy said, "Nice shorts, Ricky. Kinda' small though, huh?"
Ricky pointed out, reasonably enough, that he usually wore his old clothes
while he was doing lawns.
Judy asked, "Wanna' come over for a swim?"
Ricky said "Sure," and came in through the gate between the properties. We
all jumped into the Jameison's pool and splashed around for a while.
Eventually Ricky got out, and Judy swam to the deep end where he was
standing, dripping.
I could see what was coming.
The little slut (which is how I was thinking of her at the time) asked him
to help her out of the pool. She offered him both of her hands to pull her
up, so, of course, she couldn't adjust her bathing suit at all. Not that
she wanted to.
Well, naturally, the bottoms were water logged and sagged considerably.
You could see some of her pubic hair, and the line in the middle became
clearly visible through the wet fabric. Her top was none too straight
either.
How could I compete with THAT? Ricky was a hunk. What could I do to make
him notice me?
I felt even more left out when Ricky said something about Judy's clothes
being too small for her, too, and Judy laughed and said (I can hear it,
plain as day), "Yeah, I like to wear old clothes when I do lawn...boys."
WHAT A SLUT!
Ricky grinned and said he'd better get back to work. Judy just smiled like
the Cheshire Cat and asked Ricky to come back to the chaises and help her
put on some baby-oil.
I could almost smell the gears burning as Ricky thought about that one. I
was thinking, too. Behind the cabana, out of sight of Jameison's house. My
parents weren't home. Brad was off at a football game. Where was Jeremy?
Before he could ask, I volunteered the information that Jeremy was over at
his friend Amos's house, no doubt plotting how to blow up the school.
Ricky laughed, relaxed, and followed us back to the chaises.
He knelt between the two lounges and picked up the baby oil. I, naturally,
lay down on my stomach. I did get so bold as to undo the top of my
bathingsuit, which I thought was pretty risque.
My head was toward the other chaise, and I watched in utter amazement as
Judy, the whore, TOOK HER TOP COMPLETELY OFF and lay down ON HER BACK. She
had a nice tan, so her white breasts stuck out practically in Ricky's face.
(By this time they were the size of scoops of vanilla ice cream with
cherries on top.)
Naturally, he started on Judy, slowly rubbing the baby oil all over her
chest and down her stomach. Judy just sighed, and smiled, and closed her
eyes. After a while, Ricky began moving his hand a little lower.
Judy said, "Wait a minute," stood up, and TOOK OFF HER BOTTOMS! While she
was doing that Ricky never took his eyes off her as he started absently
rubbing oil on my back. Within two strokes his hand was under my bikini
panties, rubbing my rapidly warming little butt. Although I knew that it
was Judy's striptease that was inspiring Ricky's actions, I was in heaven!
All too soon, however, Judy lay back down, completely naked, and Ricky took
his other hand and began rubbing her, ALL OVER. She sighed and moaned a
little, and asked Ricky to kiss her while he was rubbing her.
That, of course, meant that he had to totally abandon me! I remember the
sense of despair, vividly.
Left to my own devices, however, I glanced down and saw that Ricky's shorts
were getting awfully tight indeed, and in fact, his half engorged penis was
sticking out the bottom of one leg. It looked pretty damned uncomfortable.
I got an inspiration. Judy wanted war? I'd give her war! I slid off the
chaise, got behind Ricky, and took my own suit completely off. I leaned my
size AA breasts against Ricky's long and muscular back, reached around, and
undid his shorts.
He helped as best he could without giving up kissing and feeling up Judy,
and we got his shorts off him without much trouble, except I had to take
hold of his penis, and guide it back up the leg of his shorts and out the
top. I was beginning to experience feelings of an intensity I had never
felt before. When Ricky's penis popped up, and waved there all big and pink,
I slid into a purple haze.
Still, I didn't know quite what to do next. I looked down at my own little
peach fuzz. I was still pretty much of a "corn-silk" blonde, so although I
was fourteen and menstruated more or less regularly, I still had very little
real pubic hair. Judy looked MUCH more mature. I remember thinking, "Oh,
God, he's going to laugh at me!"
But, "no guts, no glory" (thanks, Dad!). I wasn't about to let Judy
monopolize this marvelous piece of manhood if I could help it.
Foolishly, I flung caution to the winds, and crawled around Ricky and sort
of scrunched in, on my back, as best I could, a little bit under Judy's
chaise, as he knelt there kissing and feeling her up. I was now directly
in front of Ricky, with my knees splayed around his legs. I was suddenly
VERY open to him. (I have since seen submissive dogs behave similarly!)
He stopped and looked down at me, and I felt even more silly than
vulnerable. I wondered if he was going to tell me to wait a few years and
grow up, but he was looking a little dazed and said, "Oh, my!" or something
of the kind.
The good news was, however, that he seemed to completely forget about Judy
(Yeah, yeah!), as I lay there, directly under his wavering "lance of love."
I was feeling such a mixture of emotions, from competitiveness to sexual
arousal of course, that I wasn't about to stop him, no matter what he did.
He touched the head of his penis to my vagina.
He slid his penis around, playing with it, and me.
He looked hypnotized as, slowly, he eased the big head into the entrance of
my vagina. It began to hurt, and I wanted to cry out, but I bit the backs
of my fingers.
Ricky was still only about an inch into me. I was panting, and Ricky was
panting, and suddenly something seemed to give way. All of a sudden he was
IN ME right up to the hilt!
I never had believed those stories that say it doesn't hurt after the
initial stab. IT HURT! But my head was swimming and a hot glow was
spreading out from my little vagina.
My vagina burned, and my whole belly felt like it was full. Then I could
feel him up in there, moving around, sliding in and out slowly, and then
faster and faster. My eyes were closed, and I just lay there and
practically passed out!
But all of a sudden Ricky pulled out fast and exploded ALL OVER THE PLACE!
All over me, all over Judy, all over everything. I was left gasping at
the sudden emptiness! Although it still hurt, I desparately wanted his
penis back in there where it belonged. I was moaning, "Oh, Ricky, please.
Oh, Ricky. Oh, Ooooh."
But Ricky was already standing up, looking scared. He said something like
"My, god! You two are a couple of little witches! I feel like I'm under a
spell! How old are you guys, anyway? Please, I don't want any trouble. Oh,
oh, oh."
Ever the mistress of the tense situation, I started to giggle.
Ricky groaned. But then he knelt back down and kissed me on the forehead,
several times, and on the eyes, and on the lips, very tenderly. He told me
he thought I was sooo pretty, and sweet, and asked me if I was all right
about a dozen times. He was obviously trying to come to grips with the
situation, and trying to make me feel better...but I began to realize, after
the initial shock, that I wasn't feeling all that bad in the first place. In
fact, I was feeling pretty damn marvelous!
Shortly thereafter Ricky went back into my yard, put all his tools away (so
to speak), and left fairly quickly.
Judy was being very quiet, just staring at me.
Finally she said, "Nice going, Aim!"
It was taking a while for the enormity of what I had just done to sink in.
Judy and I had speculated (fairly accurately, I might add) about IT so much
that it wasn't quite the giant leap that I thought it would be. Of course
we had also usually associated "love" and "commitment" with IT, too, but I
realized, then and there, that it was entirely possible to be "swept away by
the heat of the moment," and that things other than pure sexual excitement
could be involved.
I also began to realize that Judy was jealous. To use her terminology, I
had just "gotten laid" for the first time. I was, DEFINITELY, one-up on
her.
Well, she was my best friend, and while I secretly rejoiced, I tried to
cover it lamely by saying, "Oh, poo! It really wasn't all that big of a
deal."
Fortunately, she found THAT so preposterous that we both stopped and
started laughing. Then we both said, at the same time, "YES, IT WAS!"
We talked, excitedly, for a little while, and then Judy hugged me, chest to
chest, and said in a deep, manly voice, "Oh, Amybeth, you are so adorable!
I love you. Please let me fuck you again!" ...Which both pissed me
off...and gave me hope.
And that, gentle reader, is what I meant by "Shit, shit, shit, shit." It is
the story of how I "lost" my virginity, and "found" Ricky.
SEPTEMBER 28 1977
THING, PECKER, PRICK, ROD, PENIS, COCK! OOOH, COCK. LOVELY COCK. BIG
PURPLE COCK. ROOSTER IN MY BARNYARD! STRUT ON OVER HERE, YOU LOVELY FEISTY
THING. CROW IN MY LITTLE NEST. COCK, COCK, COCK, COCK,
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
Two days later? Self explanatory.
SEPTEMBER 30, 1977.
RICKY, RICKY, RICKY, RICKY, RICKY...
With sixteen variations, filling a whole page. Also self-explanatory.
OCTOBER 6, 1977
I'LL BE FIFTEEN ON OCTOBER 15. AUSPICIOUS, DON'T YOU THINK? VOCABULARY
WORD OF THE WEEK: "AUSPICIOUS." IT IS AUSPICIOUS THAT RICKY HAS SUDDENLY
BECOME GOOD FRIENDS WITH STUDLY BRAD. HE WAS THERE TONIGHT. WE KISSED.
Cute, huh? I was, however becoming aware that, unlikely as it seemed,
Ricky was returning some of the interest I had immediately developed in him.
I knew that, at the time, he was "going with" Jackie Hindman. Jackie was
a varsity cheerleader with big tits. I hated her.
On the above occasion, Ricky and Brad were watching TV in Jameison's den
when Judy and I decided that we absolutely HAD to consult the TV Guide,
which was, of course, in the Jameison's den. As we came into the room,
Ricky said "Hey, Amybeth" very softly, so I screwed up my courage, stopped
behind the couch, and whispered in his ear, "Hey, Ricky."
But then, dumb little me, I couldn't think of anything else to say and
started to stand up. Ricky reached back, caught me by the back of my head,
and fluffed all my hair forward (and I had a lot of it). It cascaded over
his head, and suddenly we were together in this nice little tent of my hair,
with the light filtering in all golden and everything. He turned his face
up and kissed me very gently on the mouth.
I practically wet my panties.
Stupid Brad punched Ricky on the arm and said something like, "Yo, Rick, my
man...What are you doing with the kiddies? Then, with typical male
adolescent arrogance he said, "Leave that one alone, man. I'm saving her for
myself!"
AS IF!!! (to quote more modern slang).
Also, little did he know...TOO LATE!
Well! Ricky pulled me over his shoulder, and I did a somersault. He
cuddled me up in his lap. Ricky said to Stupid Brad, "Oh, yeah? Well, I may
have to contest you for this one, old buddy."
I knew they were both just being "guys," but I was delighted to learn that
Ricky wasn't a blabbermouth. He hadn't told anybody about our little fling
behind the cabana. At least, he hadn't told Brad. I snuggled into Ricky's
manly chest and nuzzled up under his chin. His face felt sandpapery, and I
realized that he shaved, at least sometimes.
Meanwhile, I glowered at Stupid Brad and tried to kick him. He grabbed my
leg, but then he just laughed and patted me, and said, "There, there, little
girl. Ricky and I won't molest you...not tonight anyway."
Ricky and I exchanged glances and I KNEW that he would be around to
"molest" me again as soon as he could...
Then Judy and I went up to her room and tried on some of her new clothes.
My fifteenth birthday passed, without much fanfare, and then:
OCTOBER 24, 1977
RICKY'S, GOT A CAR! RICKY'S GOT A CAR!
I am sure that the significance of this is not lost on you, gentle reader.
And it was not just any car! It was an old Cadillac HEARSE that he had
purchased with his mowing money. I believe it was a1955 model, and it was
sooo coool! The immortal DEATHMOBILE! Little flip-up fins on the back, and
that etched glass on the edges of the windows. It was an automatic, too,
which will come to be significant as you will hear. Ricky left the heavy
curtains in the back, but took out all the stuff that holds the coffin in
place, so the whole back is just one big soft black carpet. My, oh my!
NOVEMBER 1, 1977
THE LITTLE NEWS IS, NO MORE JACKIE. THE BIG NEWS IS, RICKY AND I ARE
GONNA' GET MARRIED...
Ricky and I never got married, of course, but let me fill you in on this
little entry:
Ricky and Jackie were at church together that morning. She kept trying to
hold his hand, and he kept trying to ignore her. He glanced over at me a
couple of times and winked.
They were clearly fighting as they left church, because she suddenly walked
away from him and went home with her parents. I remember the true Christian
charity that arose in my heart at the time... Boo Hoo! That stuck-up
little princess! What a snot. Big tits and all!
Anyway, Jeremy The Nosy, was hanging around Ricky's new car/hearse, asking
lots of questions. I strolled over as casually as I could. Ricky asked if
both of us wanted a ride home, and my mother, ever the indulgent parent,
agreed.
Poor mom! Little did she know what her randy little daughter had in mind.
Now, how to get rid of Jeremy...
Well, Jeremy had already piled into the back of the hearse where he
proceeded to lie out like a dead person and say in a croaky voice, "Take me
to the cemetery."
Ha, ha, what a dumb kid! Ricky just laughed, though, as we got in on the
soft luxurious front seat. Fine Corinthian leather, indeed! I had never
been inside the car before, of course.
After a bit, Jeremy decided he wanted to get in front too, so he yelled
"Shotgun!" and flumped over the bench seat, knocking me against Ricky. I
was bunched against his side under his arm. Ricky took his right hand off
the wheel and put it around me. His arm was behind my shoulder and was long
enough that his hand wrapped around the outside of my thigh. I snuggled in
closer when Jeremy shoved me again, and my head just "naturally" flopped
down into Ricky's lap.
Jeremy The Wretch, snorted and said, "Oh sure. Lovey-dovey. Whyn't you
just give him a blowjob?"
Ricky smacked out at Jeremy, but he couldn't reach him on that wide bench.
He told Jeremy to watch his mouth, but Jeremy must have been feeling his
oats, because he said, "She's good at it! She gave me..." and then he
realized what he was saying and tried to swallow the rest of it.
I kicked out at him and knocked him against the door. Meanwhile Ricky had
stopped the hearse and was growling at Jeremy, "Stop it! Get out of the car,
my man," says Ricky. "We won't have any more from you!" Jeremy got out of
the car slowly, but we were only about two blocks from home anyway, and he
started scooting across lawns and through short cuts, and was probably home
before we could have gotten there...IF we had gone there.
Ricky looked at me with an odd expression and said, "What did Jeremy mean?
Did you and he...?" I was beet red, of course, thinking oh, jeez, now he
thinks I'm a pervert or something, giving blowjobs to my own little brother.
(I couldn't very well point out that it was actually Judy...while I
watched). But I said as airily as I could, "Kids!" (Ha!) "That was a LONG
time ago, I'm surprised Jeremy even remembers. All we did was just fool
around some...once." And, dear reader, it DID seem like a very long time
ago.
Ricky seemed to accept this lame-o explanation, because I could see the
wheels start turning in his head again. I said, quickly, "Why don't we go
for a real ride?"
Ricky wasn't so sure, but I snuggled back into him and "accidentally" let
my hand drop high up on his leg...and then pretended to smooth out the
creases on his pants.
I have always liked to help people come to decisions.
Ricky put the hearse in gear and drove slowly for a while, and then he
seemed to decide too, because he picked up speed. He smiled and said, "I
have to take some pictures out at Haley's Mill. Have you ever seen the old
dam, out by Haley's Mill?"
Ha! Had I? Only for just about every Girl Scout picnic I'd ever been on.
I also knew that the dam at Hayley's Mill was famous for other things too.
Not only did people joke about the similarity to the child actress's name,
but also the kids called it "The Parent Trap" after one of her movies,
undoubtedly because so many girls got pregnant out there.
So, naturally, I said, "Oooh, nooo, Ricky, is there an old dam somewhere
around? Gee, I'd really like to see it..." And he grinned, and I grinned,
and we both settled in for a little drive.
Haley's Mill isn't really very far out of town, but we took our time. The
weather was sunny; the temperature was hovering around seventy degrees, just
a bit cool for picnicking. It was also the middle of the day, too early for
"parking." I didn't see anybody.
Ricky found a little, almost hidden side road, and stopped behind some
bushes a little way above the dam.
Why did I have the feeling that he'd been exactly right here, before? So I
said, "Hmm, ...this where you go with Jackie?"
And Ricky said, in a sing-song voice, "Oh, no, Amybeth, is there a dam
around here somewhere?" And he grinned at me. So I guess nobody was fooling
anybody.
But I said, " 'cept, of course, I haven't ever been up here with a boy."
And Ricky said, "Well, neither have I...been here with a boy." And I had
to laugh.
Ricky said, "Come on," grabbed his camera and jumped out.
Well, it WAS pretty out there. As I followed him down to the shore, I
could see the old red, rusting mill, across the pond just below the dam,
with the waterwheel stopped and a little lopsided. The surface of the
millpond was glistening in a thousand sparkles. A whole herd (or whatever)
of Canada Geese was up on the far bank, some in the water and some on the
shore. The leaves were all golden. Some of the trees were already bare,
and the dark evergreens visible here and there sent a soft piney scent
wafting on the breezes. The sun was shining bright and clear, and
everything had a sparkle and a glow.
I came up to Ricky as he taking pictures and just sighed. He put his arm
around me and said, "Ain't it purdy?" Only I knew he really meant it. Then
he took some close-up pictures of me.
Taking a cue from his hill-billy accent, I said, "Aw shucks, Sugar, don't
go breakin' your cam'ra now."
Ricky made me tilt my head and hold my "long golden tresses" (his term) up
on one side. He turned me so that, according to him, the sun lit up the
"green sparkles" in my "beautiful blue eyes." He actually used those terms
and other, similar flattery. I would gladly have died for him on the spot.
When he was finished taking pictures of me, we stood contemplating the view
again, and I said, reverting to my best hillbilly accent, "This here scen'ry
is jest so purdy it about prack'ly makes me wanna' swoon," and I buckled my
knees a little.
Ricky made like he would catch me if I swooned away backwards, so I did.
He slung his camera over his shoulder, scooped me up, and started to carry
me back to the hearse, while I pretended to have passed out cold, lolling my
head back so my "long golden tresses" were nearly dragging on the ground.
Ricky hunched me up higher and started blowing on my neck. I "came to,"
giggling and gasping, "Air, air, give me air." And then I got really daring
and said, "Oh, get these tight clothings off me. Loosen that blouse! Open
that waistband!" Ricky went along with the gag and was very solicitous.
Anyway, by this time he had carried me back to the hearse, where he opened
the back, sat me up in the doorway, and carefully laid his camera in the
corner.
Well, I flopped back, gasping, "Relapse, relapse..." and Ricky started to
move over me when that big old door came swinging shut and whumped him in
the back, knocking him right on top of me.
This was kind of interesting. His groin and my groin were being pressed
together by the weight of the door, and some obvious details were becoming
apparent to me. I giggled and said, "Lawsy me, but it dun't take much to
get you young studs up and rarin'!" Ricky groaned a little, and pushed off
so we got free of the door.
I scrambled inside all the way, and Ricky came in after me. He propped one
of his shoes in the door to keep it open a little...for the air. (As I was
to learn, Ricky was always a considerate lover.) Then he lay up beside me
and asked, "Feeling better, are we?"
Well, by this time, of course, I thought "anything goes," so I sighed and
whispered in my best southern belle accent, "Oh, nooo, Rickeee, I think I
need MUCH more careful atten-shun. I AM feeling a might poorly. Perhaps
you could just give me EVER so little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, please."
And so it began.
Ever so gently, Ricky started kissing my eyes, my nose, and when he settled
on my mouth with long slow kisses, they practically seared the panties right
off me.
Suddenly we both sat straight up and began scrabbling our clothes off about
as fast as we could! In our rising sexual fever, we couldn't seem to get
them off fast enough!
I was still a little shy about my own "puny" body, but Ricky didn't seem to
mind, and I began focusing on his body and forgot about mine for a while.
Old Ricky was as gorgeous as ever. He had some wispy chest hairs, and
everything! Big hunk of love! Long and lean, with his wavy hair flopping
down in his face, and his wavy BONER rising up in his lap.
I knelt up in front of him and began reaching up with my mouth to kiss him
while I reached down with my hand to stroke that "mighty piece of purple
manhood" that was waving at me.
The roof of the hearse was pretty high, and, because of our relative
sizes, I really had to strain up to kiss Ricky's mouth. He folded me back
and to the side, and again we were lying face to face, and kissing, and
licking, and breathing each other's breath, AND TOTALLY NUDE!
Ricky rolled over on top of me slowly, getting on his knees and elbows so
he wouldn't crush me, and tried to keep on kissing while he ENTERED ME...But
I was too short.
If he kept his mouth on my mouth, and his body on my body, he could only
get some of the head of his cock into me. (What lovely words! I will
never, never, never use them in anger. Lovely cock, lovely cunt).
Well, I was in heaven! Here was this big old thing poking and moving
around at the entrance to my little vagina, while he held his body just over
mine, brushing me lightly with his chest as we kissed and kissed.
But he had to stop kissing so he could get it up in there properly. He
pulled his head away and rose up on his arms. And slid it slowly HOME! He
was looking down at me with this dreamy expression. My hair was flared out
behind my head, all butter-blonde (if I do say so myself) against the black
rug. And (do I know cute, or what?) I drew some of the wisps that came
across my neck up into my mouth and bit on them a little, and then I opened
my mouth and just let the hair lie there across my lips while I returned
Ricky's smile.
I couldn't hold still for long though. This second encounter was MUCH more
comfortable than the first! The feeling of his manly pecker sliding in and
out of my hole, my tube, my warm, wet, soft vagina, just made me HAVE TO
start moving. I couldn't have kept my hips still if I had wanted to...and I
sure didn't want to.
I began rocking up as Ricky came down, and we began banging pubic bones,
and THAT was a little distracting.
Then Ricky moved a little farther down still, and that stopped the banging,
but of course it removed the direct pressure from my clitoris. But then he
began sliding WAY up inside me, sliding WAY in, again and again, so his
hairs were brushing me, again, and again, and again.
I moaned and began moving my head from side to side, and clutching up at
Ricky's wide shoulders. And then I just felt this BIG RUSH go pouring right
down to my vagina and my muscles down there began just fluttering, squeezing
and releasing very rapidly, like they couldn't be bothered to wait for the
rhythm. And I just let the waves and waves flood over me.
Ricky stopped pumping, and he said later that he just let my shuddering
vagina milk him as he hung there above me. (Oooh! I do declare! ...Gets
me wet twenty years later, just sitting here writing this, thinking of me
milking his lovely big cock with my tight little cunt, and making Ricky
come, and come, and come in me.)
Well, I felt him shooting up into me again and again, and I just couldn't
stop trembling. We both just sort of shook for a while locked together by
our sexual parts, until finally Ricky collapsed on top of me, and I bit his
shoulder.
We rolled to the side together and made a parentheses with our bodies as he
tried to keep his cock in me while he kissed me some more. Well, that
pulled our upper bodies apart and the cool air came flowing in, and my chest
started to feel all cold and lonely, so I slid up a little, even though it
pulled him out of me some.
We started kissing some more (as my thigh got messier and messier) until
both of us grew sleepy, and we dozed for a while, nose to nose. I remember
that Ricky pulled a strand of my hair out of my mouth at one point, and that
was interesting. As he felt my lips and a little inside my mouth with his
fingers, and I realized that I could probably orgasm again. (Nobody had told
me about multiple orgasms.)
After a while, Ricky reached up and got a light blanket out of a
compartment that I hadn't noticed before. And as best we could, without
disturbing Ricky's cock from where it was, and keeping chest to chest as
much as possible, we spread the blanket over us, and just lay there and
looked into each other's eyes.
HOW MUCH MORE IN LOVE CAN A GIRL GET?
Ricky's eyes were big, and brown, and so serious that it almost made me
cry. I must have teared up a little, because Ricky began to kiss my eyes,
and said, "There now, don't cry, Amybeth. Don't cry, honey child."
And I got more in love.
I sniffed (bravely?) and smiled, and said, "Silly Ricky. Lovely Ricky."
And we both were quiet for a while.
Somehow it got to be after four o'clock, and the sun began to sink, and it
was getting colder in the hearse, especially with the back door still
propped open. So, reluctantly, we put our clothes on with lots of "Let me
help you with this," and "Where are my socks?" and pauses to hug and kiss.
OH, what an afternoon!
Just as we were leaving, Davy Johnstone, Darryll Applebaum, and Jack
Jesperson came roaring up in Davy's old yellow Chevy, and went dashing down
to the millpond to throw stones at the geese. They were pretty far away
from the geese, however, and I think only Darryll came close. At least the
geese didn't seem to be bothered much, except to swim out and investigate
the little splashes where the pebbles hit. I thought, "Missed, missed,
missed." And then, for some reason, I thought about the possibility of
getting pregnant.
Ricky and I glided out of the area as quietly as we could. If the other
boys saw Ricky's hearse, at least they didn't know who was in it with him.
My explanations at home were typically vague: "We went for a drive."
(True.) "We saw some other kids." (Well...we did!). "We fooled around."
(AND HOW!)
NOV. 10, 1977
JUDY'S RIDDLE: PUNCTUATE THE FOLLOWING: FUN FUN FUN PANIC. ANSWER: FUN,
PERIOD, FUN, PERIOD, FUN, NO PERIOD, PANIC.
JUDY'S JOKE: DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE FARMER WHO SOWED HIS WILD OATS ON
SATURDAY AND THEN WENT TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY TO PRAY FOR CROP FAILURE?
Groan. At least she had the decency to wait until I got my next period to
tell me those little gems. Ever my accomplice in crime, and my confidante,
it hadn't taken Judy ten seconds to get the facts out of me. Naturally, she
wanted all the juicy details. I did manage to convey something of the
gloriousness of the event without getting quite as graphic as I have above.
Judy, bless her ever lovin' heart, took the situation seriously, however,
and even offered to supply me with condoms she would pilfer from her
brother, The Studmuffin.
NOV. 12, 1976
RICKY, DAD. DAD, RICKY!
DADDY, RICKY IS THE BOY WHO IS FUCKING ME. HA!
Crude, but evocative! Obviously I never said these words to my parents,
but Ricky and I had decided to make it "official," by having him come to
supper one night. I was a nervous wreck. My mother and father knew Ricky,
of course, and approved of him in a general sense. If they worried that he
was a worldly senior and I was an innocent freshman, they kept it to
themselves.
I don't even remember what we talked about, but Ricky was as easy and
"gliding" socially as he was physically. I do remember Dad asking him where
he was thinking of going to college. I knew in the back of my head that he
would, of course, but I hadn't confronted the issue consciously. I remember
thinking, "Going to college. Going, going, gone."
Ricky said that his first choice was "Rizdee," which he immediately
explained was the Rhode Island School of Design. That is, incidentally,
where he ended up, much to the school's eventual renown.
Later we went for a ride. We talked about the possibility of pregnancy,
and we began experimenting with what was to become a regular feature of our
sex lives, how to be intimate without actually fucking. Judy was becoming an
expert in the field, and, of course, she had told me some of her tactics.
That night we engaged in a fair amount of "heavy petting." We both managed
to "get off," (he more than I) by having me face him and straddle him as he
sat on that soft leather seat. Keeping my underpants on, I slid my swollen
vaginal lips up and down his shaft, while my "silky drawers" got wetter and
wetter. He liked it a lot, and, if I couldn't have him "all the way," I do
remember thinking that this was a pretty good alternative. We were slow to
realize the danger of pregnancy that this still posed, but I am happy to say
that nothing ever came of it (...except us).
One other echo is rattling around in my head. While I was getting ready
for bed that night, my father came into my room. We had "dad talk" for a
while. How's school going? (Fine.) Grandma Sunstrom is coming for
Thanksgiving. (Good.) Are you going to try out for the school play? (Yes)
I could see that he had more on his mind. So I beat him to it by saying,
"Don't you think Ricky's DREAMY, Daddy?"
My father laughed, but then he asked, "Does HE think YOU'RE dreamy, too,
Buttercup?"
I said, "I sure hope so, Daddy, 'cause I sure think he's dreamy."
My father just smiled. I was waiting for the "Isn't he a little old for
you?" speech, or the "Don't let older boys take advantage of you!" speech,
but it never came.
He just hugged me, and petted me a little. He said goodnight, and went off
humming down the hall: "...bring me a Dream. Make him the cutest that I've
ever seen..."
NOV 15, 1977
NEW VS . MOM AND I BOUGHT PANTIES. HOPE RICKY LIKES 'EM! PLANNED
PARENTHOOD?
My mother and I shopped at a newly opened Victoria's Secret at the local
mall. I picked out some silky, slinky, next-to-nothing undies. I remember
one pair that was black, with bright hibiscus flowers, and frills that sort
of lifted up along the legs. Another pair had lace practically down to the
crotch, so, if I had had more pubic hair, it would have shown through the
lace.
My mother bought some for herself too, and, in a rare moment of sexual
revelation, suggested that we put on a "fashion show" for Dad and Jeremy.
Then she got embarrassed and said, "Oh, no, I didn't mean it." But I said,
"That's okay, mom. I know how you feel." We both giggled, but I think I
worried her a little too.
On the way home, I had to play dumb while she talked about sex and
responsibility. She wasn't opposed to premarital sex (although she thought
I was a little young, of course), but she was definitely opposed to "messing
up your life," (i.e. getting pregnant).
I came VERY close to confessing, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do
it. I did begin to formulate a plan to get to a Planned Parenthood clinic.
NOVEMBER 23, 1977
RICKY LOVES THE PANTIES. SHOULD I LET HIM TAKE PICTURES?
Well, he loved looking at me wearing them, and he ADORED taking them off
me. He wanted to take pictures, but that was a little "advanced" for me, at
the time. We continued our experiments in alternative sex.
NOVEMBER 30, 1977
ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORE ART THOU, O ROMEO. ... GRANDMA S THINKS RICKY IS
"SUCH A NICE YOUNG MAN." ME TOO.
During the Thanksgiving break Ricky and I spent a fair amount of "innocent"
time together. I began to realize that, although he didn't read as much as
I did, Ricky was a good and committed student. He was even willing to help
me with algebra.
My grandmother's idea of family entertainment was to have readings and
recitations, aloud, "en famille." We would read poems or other literary
pieces for each other. That Thanksgiving, Ricky and I hammed our way
through the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliette (my choice, of course). I
loved it, and, ever gallant, Ricky played the part as melodramatically as
any girl could wish. Smooth old Ricky charmed the pants off my grandmother
(in a manner of speaking).
I know that this whole romance sounds backward...sex before we really got
to know each other...but my experience with Ricky is the foundation for my
conviction that, for me at least, "the fastest way to a man's heart is
through"... that portion of his anatomy a somewhat below his stomach.
I also learned that Jackie had used sex as a weapon, granting and
withholding in ways that drove Ricky nuts. He was apparently attracted to
me by my total generosity. I had apparently "won" him that first time,
under the chaise, when I had just abandoned myself to his will. I suppose
it didn't hurt that I was small, blonde, and blue-eyed. Ricky wasn't a man
who lacked self-confidence, but I learned early that he liked the suggestion
of submissiveness, and he loved me to convey the impression that I would
allow him to do ANYTHING with me he wanted to. (And I would have.)
DECEMBER 8, 1977
PP APPOINTMENT. "...DOIN' THAT HAND JIVE ALL OVER TOWN." RICKY LET ME
STEER, SORT OF, SITTING IN HIS LAP. THAT DIDN'T LAST LONG.
This was a fairly long entry; I have picked out the key phrases. Ricky was
aware that we could go to a Planned Parenthood clinic without having them
contact our parents. He was even willing to go there with me. I can
remember that although I was quite embarrassed initially, the people there
did their best to put us at ease. They "did their thing," and I now had a
prescription for birth control pills. I didn't want to get it filled at the
local pharmacy, so Ricky took me to a drug store in the next town. Having
been duly advised that the first month's protection was not complete, Ricky
and I continued our experiments with other methods of sexual satisfaction.
Although we did use condoms once or twice, both of us pined for the day when
they would become unnecessary.
I was, of course, madly in love and having trouble keeping my hands off
Ricky. We would be out for a drive with me snuggled up against him when I
would reach into his lap, outside his pants, and begin searching for and
"defining" his cock with my fingers. It didn't take long to achieve the
results I was looking for. Ricky would pull over to the curb (ALMOST
ANYWHERE IN TOWN), open his pants, and I learned how to give him a discreet
"hand job" while we kissed and kissed. The added excitement of being almost
in public gave us both an extra little thrill.
We never quite got to oral sex, but it was during these little excursions
that I finally concurred with Judy's description of the taste of semen.
After I had made him come, I would lasciviously lick my fingers while Ricky
watched.
My parents thought it was nice that I dressed up to go out with Ricky, but
the truth is, of course, that wearing a skirt afforded Ricky "easier
access," to my hot little adolescent cunt.
As to practicing my driving, I did steer while sitting in Ricky's lap, but,
with my skirt up around my waist and my hot little buns twitching while my
silky nothings got wetter and wetter, this was mostly just a prelude to sex.
I'd get to squirming, and we would have to stop to take care of that big
old trouser trout that was trying to swim right upstream into whatever
hidden grotto it could find. The thought had never really occurred to me
before, but I considered letting it find whichever grotto it wanted.
Whether I would really have been willing to try it or not, the total
wantonness of suggesting to Ricky that he could try any hole he wanted got
my little motor going in a flash, and knowing that Ricky liked me to tell
him that he could do ANYTHING with my body, I was practically coming myself,
as I sat in his lap and whispered in his ear "wanna' fuck me in the ass?"
Needless to say, Ricky got turned on like a bull.
I thought I might actually be willing to try it, but, although we rubbed
and poked a little, it just felt too weird (not to mention beginning to
hurt...what did I know from lubrication?) and we never did achieve anal
intercourse during those early experiments with "safe sex" (well,
non-impregnating sex). Along with blowjobs, it remained a teasing,
tantalizing possibility in our relationship.
DECEMBER 14, 1976
MOM FOUND MY PP APPOINTMENT CARD! OH WELL! I THOUGHT THE SHIT WOULD
REALLY HIT THE FAN, BUT WE JUST TALKED.
Oops! I had left our appointment card for Planned Parenthood somewhere in
my clothes. My mother found it when she did the laundry. Actually this did
not create the brouhaha that you might expect. At the same time that she
was quite naturally upset, she was surprised to learn that Ricky had gone
with me and also proud that Ricky and I were "at least being responsible."
In reality, it brought my mother and me closer together. We had long talks,
during which I learned, among other things, that although she had been
largely inexperienced when she met my father (she was nineteen and he was
twenty), he had quickly "swept her off her feet" and she could, and did,
sympathize with my situation. Besides which, she heartily approved of
Ricky.
Looking back on it now, I find it difficult to assume that my leaving the
card in my clothing was a complete accident. I didn't carry a purse, but
why wasn't it safely tucked away in my wallet or in my school ruck-sack? Or,
better yet, why hadn't I just thrown it away after the apppointment?
But, having one's parents know that their fifteen year old daughter is
sexually active... hell, is being fucked by a boy who is coming to the house
frequently... is not a situation I would recommend to the faint of heart.
Ricky's immense poise did falter a bit when I broke the news to him that we
had been found out, but he had recovered sufficiently by the next time he
came over that the social strain was not something we couldn't all handle.
Besides which, my mother and father simply chose to ignore the
uncomfortable reality, at least while Ricky was there, for which I was
extremely thankful. Then too, nobody discussed this new development with
Jeremy and his natural hyperactivity around Ricky helped to defuse the
initial tension too.
After the first five minutes we were all operating pretty naturally again.
DECEMBER 26, 1977
RICKY GAVE ME A LOCKET WITH OUR PICTURES. I GAVE RICKY A LENS, AND AN IOU.
It was a very good Christmas. I gave my mother some bottles for her
windowsill collection. Ricky and I had found some old cobalt blue bottles,
one of which had pretty fluted edges, while he was taking pictures out at
the town dump. He took one picture of the bottles more or less as we found
them, but with the sun directly behind the fluted one, so that the whole
picture has a blue cast. It is really a very clever shot, heavily backlit,
but with the details in the foreground clear and sharp too. In a great leap
of imagination, we called it "Trash Heap with Bottles." It later won an
award given by a local bank.
I don't remember what I got for my father, probably golf balls. For
Jeremy I bought a used copy of Jules Verne's Twenty-thousand Leagues Under
the Sea.
Among other things, my parents gave me Huckleberry Finn, which I had been
wanting. The little heart locket that Ricky gave me had a diamond chip on
the front and both of our pictures inside. I still have it. My picture
was one of the several that he took out at the dam that first "real" time.
I couldn't think what to give Ricky, but with a burst of inspiration, I
gave him a special lens filter he had wanted. In private I gave him an IOU
that promised to "model" for him.
JAN 1, 1978
LOVELY NEW YEARS! I MODELED FOR RICKY. THEN WE MADE MAD PASSIONATE LOVE.
JACKIE WAS AT JAMEISONS.
My parents went out to a New Years Eve party and didn't get home until
three. Jeremy spent the night at his friend Amos's. Ricky and I started
out at a high school party at Jameison's, but it got rowdy fast (the
football players came with cases and cases of beer), and by ten o'clock
Ricky and I slipped away, came through the back gate, and had my house all
to ourselves! While we were at Jameisons, however, I saw Jackie staring
daggers at me.
When Ricky and I got to my house, the quietude, after the noise of the
party put us in a blissful mood, and we lay on the big leather couch in my
family room, idly necking and watching the build-up to New Years on TV.
Ricky was taking it slowly, and we were both still half-dressed when I
suggested that we just turn off the television, make a fire in the
fireplace, and REALLY enjoy ourselves.
At that point Ricky had just discovered that I was wearing the sexy
hibiscus panties from Victoria's Secret, and I could see his eyes light up.
He asked if he could cash in on the Christmas IOU, and, although I was a
little shy about it, he convinced me by saying that for every piece of
clothing I took off, he'd take one off, too.
THIS sounded like FUN!
Ricky disappeared for five minutes to get his camera equipment (he often
carried a fair amount of paraphernalia in the Deathmobile), and came back
with two good cameras, several rolls of film, a tripod, and a white
umbrella. I assumed that the umbrella was for posing, but quickly learned
that he planned to use it to "diffuse the ambient light." The man was a
pro, even then.
Meanwhile, I had built a fire, and opened the bar. At fifteen, I didn't
really drink, but I thought a martini glass, even if it were filled with
water, would add a touch of sophistication to the scene. Ricky, however,
was after "lusty innocence" (to use his term), and I was, of course, willing
to do whatever he wanted.
We went up to my room, rummaged through my closets, and came up with a
short, plaid, wraparound skirt, knee socks, saddle shoes, a prim little
blouse with a peter-pan collar, and a little cotton camisole instead of a
bra (which I didn't need, much, anyway). I thought I looked about twelve,
but that was exactly the look Ricky wanted, so away we went.
First he had me sit on the edge of the hearth, which was raised about ten
inches from the floor, and just smile sweetly, fully clothed. After one or
two shots like that, I thought to lift my hair, as Ricky had had me do at
the dam, but Ricky said, "No, no. Think twelve."
I called him a dirty old man and stuck my tongue out at him. He snapped
about three shots before I could even blink. Then I began to get the idea.
I started to flirt outrageously with the camera. For one shot I coyly
unbuttoned my blouse and carelessly shrugged it off one shoulder while I
frowned (bad girl). For another I sat staring off camera pretending to be
unaware that I was giving Ricky a full view up my skirt, (naive young
thing). Then I opened the waistband of the skirt and slid my hand inside
(naughty nymphette). et cetera.
Ricky stopped occasionally to adjust the lighting, change film or cameras,
or move my "long golden tresses" into more strategic or provocative
positions, as I continued my slow striptease.
I had taken my blouse completely off, had my skirt hanging off one hip, and
had lifted the camisole nearly to my nipples, when I realized that Ricky
wasn't keeping up with me. He was still fully clothed. I pouted, shook my
finger at him, and said, "No fair," as Ricky fired off about five shots in
rapid succession. But he then put his camera down and lifted me into his
arms where we kissed, and fondled, and I got most of his clothes off.
I was surprised to discover that he was wearing boxer shorts instead of his
usual briefs, but I immediately appreciated their advantage. They were much
looser, and as I knelt in front of him, I explored the freedom of access
they afforded me (from the top, through the fly, up the legs). I got pretty
turned on. So did Ricky, and we very nearly abandoned the photo shoot.
I did kiss his lovely big cock, and would willingly have taken it into my
mouth, but Ricky managed to groan, "Wait, okay?" so I reluctantly moved away
and went back to posing. I made him take his underpants off, however, so
that I could be "even more inspired" for the sequence of photos I knew were
coming.
We skipped my taking my skirt off, except for a couple of full length shots
of me standing there in my high cut frilly panties looking startled as the
skirt fell around my ankles. Then Ricky took several shots of me lifting
the camisole over my head, he kissed my nipples to make them stand out and
caught several shots like that. One was of the camisole tangled in my hair,
mostly over my face, with me looking goofily at the camera.
Then I was down to just the slinky Victoria's Secret panties, and I
abandoned all pretense of innocence as I mugged, lifted the frilly legs,
flashed my pussy, and stuck my butt out at the camera. For the finale,
Ricky wanted some closeups, and when he approached me I reached for his
cock. He got the last and probably the best shot of the night right then.
The look of pubescent lust on my face as I reached off camera for his lovely
semi-erect penis is something to behold!
I was kneeling on the floor (again) and his cock was at eye (or mouth)
level. I couldn't wait any longer. I kissed, licked, and tasted while
Ricky did his best to put his camera down without breaking it. He bent over
me, thrusting forward, reaching behind me to put the camera on the edge of
the hearth, while I tried to get as much of that lovely thing in my mouth as
I could.
Unfortunately, I began to choke.
It would be months before I could relax my jaw and throat enough to truly
"deep throat" (but I willingly kept trying).
When I had recovered sufficiently from this first attempt, we lay together
in front of the fire, and made slow searing love. That is when I discovered
that I truly could have multiple orgasms...
We didn't dare dally too long, however, since I wasn't certain when my
parents would come home.
Incidentally, the reason I can describe this photography session in such
detail is that Ricky gave me a set of the "good" pictures and ALL of the
negatives, and I have them still. I really do look about twelve, so they are
too close to "child pornography" to publish, but someday, when I screw up my
courage, I may allow my husband to post them somewhere in cyberspace.
JANUARY 2, 1978
JUDY'S JOKE: WHY CAN'T MEN HAVE MULTIPLE ORGASMS?
ANSWER: WHO CARES?
I DO! I WANT RICKY TO HAVE AS MUCH FUN AS I DO!
JUDY HAS SWORN OFF ALCOHOL FOR LIFE.
The joke indicates how many of the intimate details Judy and I told each
other. I described my New Years Eve, and Judy described hers...at least
what she could remember of it! She had a lot to drink. Apparently things
got QUITE out of hand at the Jameison house. Although Judy says she woke up
in her own bed at four in the morning with her underwear still on, she was
lying on a very sticky Tommy Sewell, who did NOT have his underwear on. At
that point, she apparently rousted him fairly unceremoniously out of the
house.
We discovered that Dr. and Mrs. Jameison had come home about two, none the
better for the celebrations themselves. As far as Judy knew, they never
checked her bedroom on the way to theirs. I have no idea what other
remnants of the party were still around when they got home, but Brad and
Judy did have a chance to clean up a little bit before the Jameisons got out
of bed on New Years day.
Unfortunately, however, Mrs Jameison soon found a bra (not Judy's) and,
worse, a used condom, in the furniture. I remember that the Jameisons were
upset, but at least Judy seemed not to be the primary target.
This does bring up one other footnote, however: Judy was getting quite a
reputation for being willing to supply (and recieve) sexual satisfaction
without "going all the way." I thought back to the "behind the cabana"
episode, and realized that even then she had no intention of allowing Ricky
to do more than kiss her and feel her up. On the other hand, she was
willing to allow most of the boys she went out with to kiss her and feel her
up. She also was willing to kiss them and feel them up. Needless to say,
she had many dates.
JANUARY 7, 1978
SUSPENDED AND GROUNDED! ...JACKIE IS A BITCH!
....I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY... OH, WHAT IS RICKY GOING TO THINK?
These are, again, the key phrases of a much longer entry. Apparently
Jackie was slow to realize who had "stolen" (her word) Ricky from her. This
is understandable for several reasons. Number one, Ricky had told her only
that he wanted to break up with her, not that he was seeing someone else.
Number two, Ricky and I hadn't yet made many "public appearances," so not
too many people were aware of our relationship. Number three, I wasn't
about to walk up to Jackie and tell her, myself. Not only did I see no
reason to rub it in, but also she outweighed me by at least thirty pounds.
Number four, Jackie and I traveled in different social circles. I was a
lowly freshman, in the literary and drama clubs. Jackie was a high and
mighty senior who spent most of her after school time practicing with the
cheerleaders.
If she thought about me at all (doubtful) she probably only thought of me
as a friend of Brad's little sister whom Ricky occasionally gave a ride
home. Finally, I think she was just slow to conclude that anyone who was as
"puny" as me could steal anybody as handsome as Ricky from HER. Obviously
it was at the New Years Eve party, where she saw Ricky and me together,
where she figured it out.
At any rate, after the Christmas break she came sailing up to me in the
hall at school, guns blazing. She called me a bitch, and a tramp, and a
home wrecker, and a few other things, while she got right up in my face and
was practically spitting on me.
I tried (for about ten seconds) to be reasonable, but then I got mad and
told her she was a FRIGID CUNT. (Wow! I can still hear myself saying
exactly those words!) That obviously stunned her, but then she grabbed for
my hair, and (I am not proud to say) I slugged her in the eye.
It is amazing how such an action will change a situation! Immediately, the
fight was over. I think she was more surprised than hurt, although I heard
she developed a pretty good shiner. Jackie just put her hands up to her face
and started crying. Unfortunately (or fortunately) Mr. Johnson, the social
studies teacher, saw it all and promptly "arrested" us both.
I got a two day suspension, and Jackie got a three day suspension (for
being the instigator). Even Jackie was too embarrassed to tell the
principal what I had called her, but the suspension crushed me more than the
fight. As I have said, I was an honor student and had NEVER been in any
kind of trouble like this before. Also I was very worried what Ricky would
think.
To add insult to injury (well, Jackie's injury) my mother was summoned to
the school, and my parents grounded me. For the duration of the suspension,
only Judy could visit, and only for half an hour to give me my homework
assignments. She did, of course, also act as a courier for messages
between Ricky and me. I still have his first note, which reads, in toto:
DEAR SLUGGER,
WOW! I GUESS I WON'T EVER PICK A FIGHT WITH YOU!
I WILL WAIT FOR YOU UNTIL YOU GET OUT OF PRISON, EVEN IF YOU ARE IN FOR
LIFE.
I LOVE YOU.
RICKY
After my two days of incarceration, I discovered that I was something of a
local heroine. Even some of the cheerleaders whispered to me that they
sometimes wished they could punch out Jackie. I must say that I was not
proud of my actions, but at least I got the reputation for being a fiesty
little thing. Jackie and I never did make up, but, on the other hand, she
never bothered me again, either.
FEBRUARY 26, 1978
"MOONLIGHT IN VERMONT." SKIING AT STOWE. AMYBETH SUNSTROM, THE FLYING
FINN! MY MUSCLES ARE STILL SORE! CAROL KOWALICK BROKE HER LEG, AND J AND I
HAD A ROOM TO OURSELVES! J WENT ALL THE WAY WITH TS, FINALLY.
This is part of an entry I made when I returned from a high school Ski Club
trip (three girls, seven boys, and two chaperones) to Stowe, Vermont, over
what is now called Presidents' Weekend. Judy, Carol Kowalick, and I were
the three girls. Among the boys were Ricky (of course) and Tommy Sewell who
was showing quite an interest in Judy, especially after that New Years Eve
party. We three girls were supposed to share a room, but on the first day
of skiing Carol got hurt and spent the other two nights in the hospital.
This meant, of course, that Judy and I had the room (with two double beds
and a roll-a-way) to ourselves.
Fortunately for us, the chaperones were a gym teacher and a typing teacher
(both female) who were "discovering each other" at the time. Their
relationship was obvious to us, but it was definitely a "live and let live"
situation all around.
As to the skiing, I had never been on skis before, and Ricky wasn't much
more experienced. We were both natural athletes, however, and we had a good
time falling down. Judy's family made semi-regular ski trips to Colorado,
so Judy was our expert and instructor. Tommy spent most of his time in the
base lodge, watching. The other five boys found ways to amuse themselves, I
am sure.
That second night, with Carol gone, Ricky and Tommy knocked on our door,
and we smuggled them in. Tommy was a big, good- natured kid, a lineman on
the football team with Brad. But, neither Ricky and I, nor Judy and Tommy
had anywhere else we could go, so the four of us sat around in the room and
talked, while each of us tried to figure out "how we were going to do this,"
whatever "this" was going to be.
I was in the bathroom at one point, and when I came out, the room was dark.
Judy had decided that she and Tommy would just climb into bed and let
Ricky and me do whatever we wanted.
Good choice.
I left the bathroom light on, but closed the door almost all the way.
There was just enough light so that I would not stumble over Judy and Tommy.
I had no idea "how far" Judy was going to go, but let me tell you, it is
not easy for two teenage couples to make love in the same room in complete
silence! I realized, for instance, that Judy and Tommy were finally going
to consummate their relationship when Tommy had trouble with several condoms
in succession. First he tore one condom as he opened the packaging, then
he dropped the next one on the rug where, because it was lubricated, it
picked up a lot of lint.
Ricky and I couldn't help giggling out loud as we listened to the goings
on! Tommy got so frustrated that he stood up, naked as a jaybird, turned
on the light, and rummaged through his clothes for another condom.
Then Judy hopped out of bed (nothing Ricky hadn't see before, I realized)
and went into the bathroom. She called Tommy to come in there, and he went,
leaving the room lights on. Ricky and I were covered by the bedclothes, and
we were "getting into it" pretty hot and heavy anyway, so we didn't bother
to turn them off.
We were lying there, with Ricky IN me, when we were treated to the
spectacle of Tommy coming out of the bathroom hugely erect, with Judy
wrapped around him, trying to finish putting yet another condom on him.
Tommy was so sexually aroused that his grandmother could have been watching
and he wouldn't have cared. Old exhibitionist Judy probably just didn't
care anyway. So they left the lights on, and Ricky and I watched while Judy
lost her virginity!
Later, we agreed that it seemed only fair...after all, she watched me lose
mine!
Tommy was a moose, however, and apparently "hung like a horse." This
process did not go even as smoothly as my defloration had. I could tell
that Judy was in some pain. Fortunately for all, however, it didn't take
long for Tommy to climax. After a bit, they both got up and went into
the bathroom again, where I heard the shower start.
Ricky and I went back to focusing on each other. Marvellous old Ricky was
as smooth as ever, and I came about six times before he finally "let it go"
in great surges of loving motion.
Eventually Tommy and Judy came back to bed, and just snuggled in and made
soft noises. Ricky and I fell asleep.
The second night was a repeat of the first, except that Judy was so sore
that she went back to her old tricks (orgasms without fucking), and we were
treated, in the darkness, to the slurping sounds of reciprocal oral
delights.
Although I had "gone down" on him, Ricky had never (what will I call it
here, "performed cunnilingus" sounds so clinical) ...he had never tasted my
sweet fruits... The sounds from the next bed inspired him, I guess, and he
slid right down.
Dear God! Do I remember THAT sensation! Ricky's slightly rough cheek on my
soft inner thigh alone was enough to start me trembling uncontrollably!
When his mouth finally touched the swollen folds of my little pink vagina
and his tongue tweaked up that "little man in the boat," I nearly passed out
I was orgasming so hard!
The next morning Judy said that WE and actually stopped THEM in mid-slurp,
so to speak. She said my gurgles and gasps were enough wet the panties on a
nun.
MARCH 26, 1978
DOLLY OPENS NEXT FRIDAY. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? HOW TO DISCOURAGE MK, AND
STILL BE IN THE PLAY?
I had tried out for the school play, Hello Dolly, back in December. Our
high school drama group was excellent, nearly professional, and we regularly
won state drama competitions. This meant, of course, that roles were
coveted and you had to work your way up to the leads during the course of
your high school career. It also meant that we endured long hours of
preparation and rehearsal. As a lowly freshman I managed to squeeze in as
a member of the chorus (a waiter at the Harmonium Gardens, a member of the
crowd in a number of scenes), but, because I was small and blonde, and I
danced, I was also also accorded the unheard of honor of being the
understudy for Ermingard Vandergelder. Although I never got to play the
role in front of an audience, I was in a fever. I loved just being
associated with the production.
Mark Kingsley, a junior and a handsome fellow (even if he did think so
himself) played Ambrose. He was a dancer, of course, but contrary to
stereotype, he was also interested in girls...especially me, unfortunately.
When I got to practice the Ermingard role with him, I thought he put a
little more enthusiasm into his stage kisses than was absolutely necessary.
As the play got closer to opening night, we would frequently rehearse until
eleven or even midnight. Mark had a car, and would drive kids home. Often,
I would be part of the group, and Mark got in the habit of dropping me off
last.
One night, when I was the last passenger, he suggested that we stop at the
diner for a midnight snack, just Mark and me. Although I was tired, I knew
I wasn't going to be able to go to sleep quickly because I was still
"pumped" by the nearness of opening night. I guess my antennae should have
been up, but I accepted.
Mark began to "come on" to me immediately. He suggested that, instead of
going to the diner, we go "someplace else." I still didn't get it. (I must
really have been tired!) So I said, "Okay," thinking he meant some other
restaurant or something. He meant, of course, Haley's Mill.
When I realized where we were going, we were almost there. I immediately
said, "Whoa, Nelly! ...Mark, I didn't realize...I'm going with Ricky
Lawrence...Take me home!"
Unfortunately for me, Mark Kingsley was from the old school that believes
that when a girl says no, she really means yes...or at least, maybe. By
this time he had parked the car and was reaching for me in no uncertain
ways, and I had my second physical confrontation of the year.
We wrestled.
He groped.
He actually got his hand in my panties before I finally convinced him that
I really "didn' wanna" by grabbing his crotch and squeezing HARD! He
yelped and withdrew to his side of the car.
I was angry, and crying, and all discombobulated, but that jerk still
wasn't convinced. He did drive me home, but all the way he kept trying to
make up and get me to go out with him some other time.
As I got out of the car, I told him to "Fuck off!" with the effect that he
said, "Oh! I love it when you talk dirty!"
What the hell was I going to do? Quit the play? Sic Ricky on him? Get
raped?
Two days later, it was "Ricky to the Rescue." After I convinced him not to
punch Mark's lights out, (after all, we needed him for the play) he simply
agreed to come pick me up after every rehearsal. Mark just plain didn't
get the opportunity to hit on me anymore. Also, of course, Ricky, at six
one, was considerably bigger than Mark, who was about five eight. He got
the message.
APRIL 17, 1978
RICKY PLAYED HIS FIRST MATCH TODAY, AGAINST TRENT WEEDMAN, NO LESS. RICKY
WON 6-4, 5-7, 7-6 (24-22). WE BOUGHT KFC, AND WENT OUT TO HM WHERE THERE
WAS A BOONIE. WE CELEBRATED, BUT RICKY GOT DRUNK, AND I HAD TO DRIVE.
Trent Weedman was the number one boys tennis player in the county, and a
ranked USTA junior. Ricky was having a good day, and beat him by sheer guts
(and long gliding gracefulness). That tiebreaker in the third set was
something; the whole match was riding on each point! Trent was being an
arrogant prick (pardon my French) who gave the impression, even after he
lost, that Ricky didn't deserve to be on the same court with him. Ricky
didn't give an inch, however, and they both were firing rockets at each
other. It would have been fun to watch, if I hadn't been so emotionally
involved.
Afterward, in total elation, we stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and
then went out to Haley's Mill. Ricky was still in his sweaty tennis
clothes, but I didn't care. I would have licked him clean.
This proved unnecessary, however, because even though it was still the
middle of April, he was so exhilarated that he jumped out of the car and
went splashing into the millpond. He taunted me, and dared me to join him,
but there was no way I was going to subject this skinny little body to that
cold water. I would willingly have licked the sweat off him, but I wouldn't
turn into an ice cube for him.
He didn't stay in long, of course, but as he was coming out, a whole
carload of kids showed up for the first "boonie" of the year. (Boonie...as
in head for the boondocks with a crowd of people and a keg of beer.) When
they saw Ricky in the water, naturally, some of the other guys had to jump
in too, so we had a brief, but spirited episode of splashing, and
threatening to throw some of us girls in, and such like.
Meanwhile, a couple of us built a bonfire on the rocks, and a couple of
others tapped the keg. I knew about such parties, of course, but had never
been to one before. Nobody seemed to be very worried about underage
drinking in public, so I just went along with the flow.
Ricky eventually came out of the water, and it turned out that he had a
pair of baggy pants and a big old (but clean) sweatshirt in the Deathmobile.
That didn't surprise me, of course; he kept all kinds of stuff in there.
I had already told anybody who would listen that Ricky had just beaten
Trent Weedman in a tennis match. Trent went to East Windham High, our hated
rival, and Ricky was instantly proclaimed a hero. Jenny Morrison proposed
the first toast, and thereafter the beer flowed more and more liberally,
with Ricky the center of attention for quite a while.
I hadn't yet acquired a taste for beer (probably the only thing that saved
me from getting absolutely shit-faced) so I just sipped and cheered along
with everybody else. We did manage to eat the bucket of chicken, but with
so many people, nobody got more than a wing or a thigh.
To make a long story short, Ricky was tired, hadn't eaten much, and was
drinking toast after toast that everybody kept proposing to him. He never
even would have made it until the sun went down.
Our options were suddenly cut short, however, as a bunch of police cars
slipped quietly into the scene, no sirens and no flashers. I was terrified,
especially by the ominous, nearly silent approach, but the cops turned out
to be more or less sympathetic. They just felt they had to break up the
party (and confiscate the beer).
By this time, Ricky was pretty well plowed, and, not wanting any more
trouble than I had to have, I just took his keys and told the cops that I
would drive Ricky home. I was obviously sober, but I was obviously too
young to drive too. I don't know why, but they didn't ask for my license,
so I bravely fired up the Deathmobile and lurched my way out of there.
Fortunately the car was an automatic or I would never have been able to do
it. Having practiced steering while sitting on Ricky's lap (as above), I
was able, more or less, to navigate, although I had trouble reaching the
peddles while seeing over the steering wheel.
Happily, we got to Jameisons without incident, where Brad (who really
wasn't such a bad guy, after all) took over and drove Ricky home.
APRIL 18, 1978
RICKY WAS ACCEPTED AT RIZDEE TODAY, GROAN. I KNOW HE HAS TO GO, BUT OH,
AM I GONNA MISS HIM. "COME BACK TO THE RAFT, HUCK, HONEY!" HE PROMISES TO
WRITE EVERY DAY, AND COME HOME EVERY WEEKEND. WE DID MASSAGES, ALL OVER,
AND I THEN GOT REAL DIRTY. I ATE SUPPER AT RICKY'S
As a reward for his great match, the coach gave Ricky the day off from
tennis practice, which was a good thing because Ricky was sore from the
match and hung over from the celebration.
Also he was so happy about being accepted by his first choice for college,
that he probably wouldn't have been able to concentrate on tennis anyway.
The literary reference ("Come back to the raft, Huck, honey," from The
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn) is actually pretty appropriate. When the
slave, Jim, is temporarily deserted by Huck, as they are floating down the
Mississippi on their raft, Jim pleads with him to come back to the raft, and
he will be sweet as pie to him.
I told Ricky that I was his slave, and vowed to be as sweet as pie if only
he would come back home often from college. Ricky and I, by this point,
were in a very easy relationship, and he demanded with mock severity to be
given samples of how sweet I would be.
I suggested that we go somewhere where I could give him a massage and some
TLC. Since his parents were both at work, he suggested we go to his house.
When we got there, we rummaged around in the bathroom until we found the
rubbing alcohol...and the baby oil. I took one look at the baby oil and
said, "Isn't this where I came in?"
Ricky looked blank for a second. Then he said, "God, you know I had
forgotten all about the baby oil part."
I said, "Nice try, Romeo," but, of course, I was ecstatic, and suddenly we
were right back under the chaise lounges together. I said, "There I was,
lying all spread eagle, open as a rabbit hole, with an absolute GOD towering
above me."
And Ricky said, "There I was, kneeling there just staring down at this
incredible vision, this little angel who had suddenly appeared before me so
open and willing."
So I whispered, "Well, the angel says, 'Come with me to paradise!'" and we
headed for Ricky's bedroom.
First I gave him a massage with the rubbing alcohol, and then I gave him a
THOROUGH massage with the baby oil. I started on his back and then had him
roll over so I could rub the oil on his front, especially the lower part of
his front. As I rubbed oil on that beautiful big cock, he got harder than I
had ever seen before. He got so swollen up and so big that he said it
actually hurt!
Then I was feeling devilish, so I told him to roll over on his stomach
again, and I began to work my fingers around on his lovely smooth ass, and
into the crevice, slowly easing my way and getting a lot of oil up in there.
He tightened up at first, but I whispered lots of dirty stuff in his ear
and he gradually relaxed.
I can't remember what all I said, but it was along the lines of, "Oooh,
Ricky, I want to feel ALL of you. Please let me put my fingers in your ass.
I want to stick my tongue in your ass. I want to make you come for me like
you make me come for you." As I slid my well oiled finger into his anus
again and again and again.
I could see the inhibitions crumble as Ricky relaxed and accepted what I
was doing. I actually got my finger most of the way into his ass, and was
pressing forward toward his stomach when we discovered something
spectacular! I now realize that I was rubbing on his prostate gland, from
inside, but the effect was something amazing! Ricky probably had the most
intense orgasm of his life!
He just came in buckets for what seemed like hours!
When he was finally finished, we both just looked at each other in awe.
He said, "Amy, I am your slave for life!"
I whispered, "Okay, slave," and I took his hand and made him scoop up some
of his own come on his fingers. Then I slowly coaxed him to put it in his
mouth and suck it off himself, tasting his own semen.
That was so lewd I didn't have ANY trouble coming myself when Ricky got
some more of his come on his fingers and began smearing it around the lips
of my vagina and up into me.
All too soon, however, we had to give it up and get dressed. Mrs. Lawrence
usually came home around five o' clock, although that night she was just a
little late, and we were all neat and sitting demurely in the kitchen doing
our homework when she came in the door. We giggled and leered at each other
as she praised our industriousness and scholarly activity.
Ricky told her the news about being accepted at the Rhode Island School of
Design, and she insisted that I stay to supper so we could all celebrate.
MAY 4, 1978
FINALLY! I'M STILL DRIPPING! I THINK MY POOR LITTLE BOTTOM WILL NEVER BE
THE SAME!
As you may have guessed, the fooling around with Ricky's bottom that I did,
got him pretty interested in fooling around with mine. We had Ricky's house
to ourselves on this night. I think his parents were visiting his mother's
sister for a few days. We were lying on the couch in the TV room, making
out as usual, and Ricky began licking lower and lower down my stomach
without taking my panties off. He was getting my crotch real wet from the
outside while I was getting it real wet from the inside, when, all of a
sudden he knelt up and just flipped me over (I was still a lot smaller and
lighter than he) so I was on my stomach with a leg on either side of his
knees. He began kissing the two little dimples right in the small of my
back and slowly pulling my panties down as he kissed and tongued lower and
lower, until he was invading the crack of my butt with his tongue. I found
it hard to relax, but Ricky just kept massaging the cheeks of my ass and
sliding his thumbs closer and closer to my anus. I was getting very wet
back there from Ricky's saliva and from the fact that he would occasionally
run a finger around to my vagina and draw some juice from there too. I
began to realize that he was thinking about fucking me in the ass.
I got on my knees, too, and pulling my panties to the side, sat back on his
cock, so it just slid naturally into my very wet pussy. He was still, of
course, much bigger than I, so his chin was resting on the top of my head
even though I was sitting in his lap impaled on his cock. I whispered as
seductively as I could, "Please Ricky, I want you to fuck me in my mouth,
and fuck me in my cunt, and fuck me in my ass. Fuck me everywhere! Fuck me
anywhere! I want to feel your cock in every hole in my body. Do whatever
you want with me. Please fuck me in my ass, okay?"
As I hoped they would, these words had a very nice effect on Ricky. I
could feel his cock stiffen even more as it sat in my hot, wet pussy. He
said, "Oh, AmyBeth, I love you so much. I'm gonna fuck you in your little
girl ass," which turned me on too.
I rocked forward onto my hands, lifting my butt off his cock and crawled
off the couch onto the floor, with my ass wiggling. I flipped my panties
off, and when I had crawled a little way away from the couch, I stopped and
spread my knees two feet apart and dropped the top of my body onto my chest,
so that my ass was sticking up and open as much as it could possibly get. I
called back plaintively, "Fuck me now, Ricky, fuck me in the ass. Oh,
please. Oh, hurry. Oooh, I need your cock in my ass."
I was play acting to a certain extent, of course, but it was really turning
me on too, and I really did begin to feel the need to have Ricky do it. I
reached up between my legs and stuck a finger in my vagina and then pulled
it out and stuck it in my ass.
Ricky came forward and began licking me from my pussy to my ass and tongue
fucking my asshole. It was feeling so good that I actually had an orgasm
right there before we even got started. Then Ricky knelt right behind me
and slowly drew my anus down on his cock. It hurt a little, but Ricky went
very slowly and I began to feel that filled up feeling as he slid his cock
up into my rectum. It was a sensation that I will never forget. I had
already started coming as I said, and I just couldn't stop. It was like
coming and having my ass fill up and empty over and over again, and Ricky's
cock sliding in and out of the sphincter muscle of my rectum was the most
intense sexual feeling I have ever had. Ricky managed to hold out for about
sixty seconds before he exploded in great gushes of come deep in my ass.
When he finally pulled out of my ass, I would have been willing to take his
cock into my mouth immediately, but Ricky wouldn't let me. He said, "Let's
take a shower together."
As we ran for the shower I could feel my stretched little anus puckering
and beginning to dribble some of Ricky's come down my legs. We soaped and
rubbed and cleaned all parts of our bodies together, and I brought Ricky
back to erection by giving him a tender blowjob there while the warm water
streamed down on us.
I felt stretched for days, but altogether, it was a memorable experience.
Looking back on it now, twenty years later, I feel a fondness (and a
tingle). Ricky, you are one of the world's great lovers, and I hope that
whoever you are seeing these days appreciates you.
AUGUST 24, 1978
OH, OH, OOOOH! RICKY LEFT FOR COLLEGE TODAY. I CAN'T STOP CRYING...
Well, Ricky left, as we both knew he would have to. Naturally we both
plighted eternal troth, and I cried for a week, but after all I still had
three years of high school left. In the next three years, we had some wild
weekends in Providence, of course, and although he continued to see me when
he was home, we gradually, inevitably, drifted apart.
I remained faithful throughout high school, but when I finally got to
college, (University of Pennsylvania) and fully realized how much of a
different world college was, I felt very lucky that Ricky "stuck with me"
for as long as he did.
After college I worked for several years at a publishing house in New York
and eventually met a handsome and generous man without a jealous bone in his
body. In fact, he says he's like to meet Ricky someday and thank him
personally.
Ricky had no trouble getting a job as a photo-journalist right out of
college, and almost immediately became a world traveler. As I said at the
outset, I still come across his pictures in National Geographic, and other
magazines.
I keep a framed, signed picture of him holding a chimpanzee, standing
beside Jane Goodall in Tanzania. It reads, "To AmyBeth, my first and truest
love."
The End (I think)
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