Teen Spirit

"The girls in the comic are pretty sexy, aren't they?" Pam commented. "You like girls, don't you?"

Chris nodded. They'd never before discussed his interests in or, more particularly, his failures with women.

"Yeah. They're not bad!"

"Not bad at all! Do you like your women like that? Slim, like hourglasses, but busty at the same time?"

Chris nodded. He slightly swallowed. "Yeah. It's cool." Then he remembered that Pam wasn't nearly so shaped, being rather thicker round the waist and with a smaller bosom. "But I like girls that don't have... that aren't... well, other types of girls!"

He put his jacket on the bed behind him, hoping that the floppy disk wouldn't fall out of the pocket.

"And you've not got a girlfriend, have you?"

Chris coughed. "No."

Pam sighed and looked away for a moment towards the dressing table mirror where the two were reflected, looking very nervous, and hugely ill-matched.

She looked back at Chris and glanced down at his trousers where her eyes, Chris knew, penetrated through the denim and could see every vein of the penis pressing against his buttoned fly.

"Sod it!" she suddenly said. "This is fucking stupid!"

This was the first time Chris had heard an adult in real life, who wasn't someone in the pub or at the bus stop, use one of those words he was still nervous about using himself, even with his mates.

But this was nothing compared to the confusion that muddled his thoughts and nearly panicked him as she placed a hand, at the end of an arm mostly covered by the loose cotton of her sweater, on, of all places, that part of his crotch where his penis was most obviously erect.

"Uuuhh!" he moaned despite himself.

"Euurrghh!" Pam echoed, who turned her head round and somehow, Chris not exactly sure how, pushed her face with her thick lips onto his mouth. And then Chris responded, without thought or premeditation, by pressing his tongue and lips onto Pam's.

They were kissing. They were bloody kissing! It was really weird. Her mouth was so liquid, a pool of slightly garlic-tasting saliva slobbering against his own, his tongue pressing against the teeth that in his memory were white and wholly regularly, but now seemed to grow enormous in his mind as her tongue pushed into his.

The steps that led towards them actually fucking were disconnected but somehow inevitable.

The clothes came off as soon as their mouths parted, Pam spending more time divesting Chris of his than she did her own. Her tee-shirt and trousers were less of a struggle to remove than Chris' tight jeans. And underneath his penis ached almost painfully with desire and came free of his underpants before his jeans, socks and trainers were flung to the floor.

It was one thing to see a woman naked, Chris discovered, but a wholly different thing to have one naked against your body. In the perspiration and anxiety of these first gropings it hardly mattered whether her bosom was of super-heroine stature or whether her bum was like the swelling monstrosity of his fantasies. It was flesh, glorious flesh, far too much of it for his metal-addled brain to focus on in its entirety.

There were freckles there, a mole here, short brown hairs on her forearms, a bosom that flattened as she fell backwards onto the mattress, and legs that clasped his buttocks as he positioned himself above her.

Chris had an idea of how a man should fuck from the pictures he'd seen. It was something like doing press-ups only with your prick engulfed inside a twat. But, in real life, with a truly hairy vulva just inches away from his fully erect penis, his arms around her shoulders and his mouth pressed to hers, it seemed less obvious to him just how he should attain the posture of penetration.

It was Pam who guided his penis into her vagina. It was Pam who made the exertion that allowed Chris' instincts to take control. And there, for a few moments, Chris knew, he was fucking. He was actually bloody doing it! Just like in the photos. Just like in that porno video he'd watched over and over again at Martin's place before he went to university. It was the real fucking deal!

His buttocks pushed his penis in and out, his glans sore and tender, and surprised at the moistness of the orifice that so easily accommodated it. And as he fucked mechanically, no imagination required at all and rather more physical effort than he'd envisaged, it was Pam who seemed the most excited. She gasped and swore, repeating again and again all those swear words that still sounded very strange indeed coming from, of all things, a woman. A woman perhaps fifteen years older than him!

It was far too soon when he ejaculated. He knew that. In fact, he'd dreaded it happening. But it did. Just when Chris thought he'd got the hang of all this. Just when he thought he'd almost got to the stage when it was natural and, even, in a strange way he'd never really thought of before, a very pleasant and thoroughly intimate, almost loving, activity. He was only just beginning to see Pam as a sexual animal, someone who had her own needs and desires.

But he was also concerned about how he would tell his mates about this first time, imagining how Stu would react when he announced that of the three mates he was now the only virgin.

Far too soon came that release of semen so familiar from all those masturbatory sessions when, at least recently, the image in his mind was so vividly like (but also unlike) that of the woman he was currently making love to.

"I suppose it couldn't last long, could it?" said Pam sympathetically, as their bodies separated.

Chris gazed sadly down at his twitching penis. It seemed such a pathetic thing now. Deflated and dripping. And yet just a moment ago, he felt so proud of the same thing as it pushed and thrust inside the vagina whose warmth and moistness was now just a memory imprinted rather more vividly in his mind than any other memory of their conjoining.

"Was it all right?" asked Chris nervously.

Pam laughed sympathetically.

She kissed him on the cheek with the same almost innocent affection she used to do, although it seemed almost incongruous now that the two of them were naked. Chris' lank hair was sticking to the sweat on his face. There was a pool of perspiration on Pam's torso where their two bodies had pressed together.

"You did very well, Chris. Very well, indeed!"

At the time, this seemed to Chris a confirmation of what he most hoped for: that this encounter, brief and hectic though it had been, and, in some way, not quite as satisfying as that of his virgin fantasies, would not be all. That it would be a prelude to many more such couplings. In fact, he was already thinking, even as Pam got dressed again and kissed him goodbye, anxious to get away before Chris' mum returned from her aerobics class, that this was just the first of many more such encounters to come.

And next time, he was sure, it would be better. It would last much longer. And perhaps he could do those other things you were supposed to do. Like foreplay, for instance.

Alas, this was not to be.

Pam never came into Chris' room again, although he spent many hours in anticipation, just waiting, unable, more than ever before, to concentrate on his studies.

In fact, Pam seemed to make every effort to ensure that there was no time at all that Chris and she could spend time together alone. She even stopped going to the toilet late at night, although a sleepless Chris waited anxiously for the door to his mum's bedroom to open.

The tension between his mum and Pam seemed to grow. An icy blast took hold of any room his mum and Pam were in at any time that Chris saw them together. And these were the only times that Chris ever saw Pam nowadays.

Lottie could sense it too. His only nocturnal visitor now was his sister who entered his room and sat with him. The both of them were strangely silent and unable to express more than the most desultory words, but glad of each other's company, while overhearing the most ferocious row going on in his mum's room. A row in which Chris was sure he heard not only Pam, but his mum, shout those words he still thought were only right in a movie or said in the pub when you were really drunk. And the shouting went on and on, interspersed with quieter spells in which Chris could hear the distinct sound of choked sobs.

That was the last night his mum and Pam spent together. In fact, Chris never saw Pam again at all. She wasn't there at breakfast and when he got home from school she had moved out altogether.

The house was strangely empty now. Emptier than it had been at any time since Dad had left. And Chris' mum was just as distraught and moody as she had been on that earlier occasion.

Perhaps Chris should have known what it would be like. After all, he had lived through a similar period before. But this time, it was somehow worse. Especially as he became aware that his mum no longer treated him with quite the same indulgence as before. Nothing he could do these days was right. And sometimes his mum would just burst into tears when he came into the same room as her.

"How could you?" she said one evening, her tear-smeared eyes glaring at Chris accusingly across the kitchen from the stool where she sat. "My own son! What have I ever done to deserve it?"

"What, Mum?"

"How could you?"

"How could I what?"

His mum looked at him accusingly. And then she cracked into huge sobs that shuddered and shook her body until such time that a confused Chris took the only release available to him, his own eyes beginning to fill with tears. He ran off to his bedroom to put a Nirvana CD on his stereo and to sit on the edge of his bed staring into space, barely able to focus on his own image in the dressing table mirror that had once reflected both his naked body and that of Pam's.

At least, however, he reflected as he struggled to remember just what Pam had looked like in that reflection, he wasn't a virgin anymore.

That was one thing to be pleased about.