Ditzy Donna

"It's a good game," I said, and winked at her.

She giggled, snorted and then there were a whole lot of teeth and gums showing. "You know, it's been long enough that if you were still woozy I'd know you had a concussion. I guess you don't. Too bad you don't have a condom here."

My pride was hurt. "What makes you think I don't have a condom?"

She tilted her head and looked at me. "Do you have one?"

"Well, no."

"That's okay. It's too late now, but we can always get one tomorrow. Kiss me again Ralph."

* * *

No wonder he gave me that box of Trojans...

* * *

As I kissed her, she slid her hand down and found mini-me sleeping again. With very little coaxing, he was soon wide awake and ready to go.

"You know, I think you're full of crap," she said, squeezing away.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you were just trying to impress me about being able to shoot," she said, and then snorted.

"No, I'm telling the truth," I replied, not as confident as before. The last thing I wanted to do was make a boast that for some reason I couldn't back up.

"Alright, Ralphie, I want to see this. Now, how do you want to do it?"

"Well..."

"I want to see it and I've changed my mind. I want to see how far it will go, so my boobs are out."

"What if I don't meet your expectations?" I asked, feeling the effects of her squeezing below.

"You'll have to wait a while to use that condom."

* * *

Come on Pop, you can do it!

* * *

As I started to adjust myself with her our feet tangled and down we went to the carpet.

"You didn't hit your head did you?"

"No, not this time," I replied.

"Good," she said, as she adjusted herself down to place her mouth over me.

She didn't know what she was doing, but it felt great. She licked and slurped. There were a few snorts as she caught me watching. She pulled off me and told me to warn her way ahead of time, and then started again. I was already pretty far gone, so I told her to look out. She pulled her head away and slid her hand up and down me in a quick motion.

I felt it start like a fuse burning its way to a stick of TNT. She was oblivious to what she was doing to me as her gaze was on her hand and mini-me, waiting for it to shoot. I was flat on my back but I too wanted to see myself how far it was going to go, so I rolled on my side. Donna didn't miss a moment as from behind me, her hand continued to slide up and down. My stomach tightened, my toes curled, and my balls convulsed.

The first pulse was embarrassingly short, maybe an inch or two. The second produced a gasp from her as it sailed three feet through the air. Thanks to the way she was holding me at the moment of the third spunk missile, it rose through the air a few feet and landed at the edge of the wall, six feet away. Donna started laughing at that Olympian eruption and the remaining ropes of spunk fell to the neutral colored rug, harmless.

"I don't believe that! That was so cool," she said hugging me. She noticed I was looking at the mess I made on the rug and rubbed her hand over the spunk she could reach, spreading it out on the rug. "No one will ever notice," she said, as she kissed me hard.

We slept right there on the rug that night.

* * *

I never thought of my Pop as my hero before, but he reached that plateau at that very moment...

* * *

I woke the next morning alone. I went to the kitchen and found a note from Donna telling me she was downstairs in the laundry room washing her clothes. That made sense, so I started the Mr. Coffee and checked the fridge for breakfast food.

As I was cooking some bacon, Donna came in. "I hope you didn't mind that I used some of your clothes to go down there," she asked, wearing my old gym clothes.

She looked great in them. "No, I'm glad you could use them," I replied. "Breakfast?"

"Yes," she said, slipping into a kitchen chair and inhaling the odor of the bacon.

I poured her a mug of coffee and set the sugar and milk in front of her. She sipped the coffee black, just like me. She had taken off the hair band and her hair was now as wild as I've ever seen it. Somewhere underneath of it she said, "I've got to get my little cousin a gift for his birthday. Can we do that when we go out for a condom today?"

I hoped she wasn't kidding last night. "Sure," I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. "Where does he live?"

"Out west, but I'll ship it to him," she said, sitting at the table with a fork and knife in her hands.

I finished the bacon, fried some eggs and put them on her plate. She looked around the table and then the kitchen counter. "Do you have any Tabasco sauce?"

I reached into the cupboard and handed her a bottle. She nearly emptied it on the eggs and started shoveling in the food.

* * *

Mom still eats the same way...

* * *

She looked up a few times between shovels and said that it was good. Something told me that Donna didn't get home meals all that often. When she was done she leaned back, belched, farted, and then snorted. "That was really good, Ralph."

"Thanks, Donna. Look about last night..."

"What?" she asked, looking at me like I was speaking Russian.

"I just want to..."

"What about last night?" she asked. "Is there something you didn't say last night or regret saying?"

She was being very abrupt and straight forward. I went on the defensive.

"No, I just wanted to say that I..."

"...You love me, yes I know, and I'm thinking about it. Now we're going out to buy condoms and a present for my nephew," she said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a roll out party favor. She blew on it and it rolled out but only a weak honk came out of it. She looked at it and said, "I need a new one of these."

"I'll buy you a dozen," I replied.

Snort.

In the late morning we went into town to get the condoms and her nephew's gift. We shopped a few stores and then she settled on a state of the art water pistol from Woolworths that looked exactly like an Uzi. I also bought a few noise makers for Donna as well as a pair of Groucho Marx glasses. Then we picked up a pack of condoms at the local Sun Ray Drugs which was kind enough to give us a box big enough to ship the present. It was Saturday so we hurried to the Post Office before it closed at noon. Old man Johnson, the local Postmaster, insisted on being there even though he didn't have to be. Most Post Offices only sold stamps on Saturday but not Old Man Johnson. He insisted on full service, until noon that is.

As we hurried before it closed, Donna opened the joke glasses and put them on. She mugged for everyone we passed. Stopping just outside the office Donna looked at her reflection in the window and snorted at her appearance. "Here," she said, taking them off and putting them on me. She giggled as I put them on. I checked myself out and thought I looked just like Groucho. A nineteen-year-old Groucho. "I'll wait out here. The address is on the box," Donna said as she shoved me in the door.

The place was deserted other than Mr. Johnson. I put the box up on the counter and held up the water gun.

"Hi Mr. Johnson, I need you to..."

"Take it..." replied Johnson with his hands in the air.

"No, I need you to..."

"There," he said, placing his register till up on the counter.

"What are you doing? Mr. Johnson, I need you to..."

"Will you please go? I'm giving you the money!"

I took off the Groucho glasses and said, "Mr. Johnson, it's me, Ralph."

He became more terrified than before. "Don't show me your face. Felons always kill the people that can recognize them."

"What?"

There was the sound of sirens and then the front door burst open. "Drop it asshole!"

"What?"

"Last chance funny man, drop the weapon!"

"What are you talking...?"

"Aim to kill!"

The sound of several rifles having their safeties switched off and rounds loaded convinced me that I should drop the squirt gun. It hit the ground and shattered.

"Take him down!" shouted the squad leader.

I was tackled, hog tied, dragged out and tossed into the back of a paddy wagon. Donna was nowhere to be seen. The van lurched ahead and a small slit opened between me and the drivers.

"Hey asshole, did you really think you were going to getaway with it with a water gun?" asked some Harry Hairshirt type.

"I wasn't..."

"Okay, shut up. You have the right to remain silent..."

* * *

Pop's a jailbird! I hope he wasn't the bitch in the lockup...

* * *

Six hours later I was being arraigned for the felony of attempted armed robbery of a post office.

My public defender, Potter, wasn't as sympathetic as he could be.

"You sick shit. What did you think you were doing? Mr. Johnson has known you since you were in diapers. What were you thinking when you went in there and nearly gave him a heart attack?" he asked with tons of sympathy.

"Look, I was trying to send my girlfriend's nephew a water gun for his birthday. Just look at the evidence. The box that I wanted to send it in must still be at the post office. The gun still had the receipt on it!"

"Like you're a real model citizen. The DA handed me some stuff on you," he said, holding up rap sheet. "You skipped a check on a place called the 'All the Way House' a few years ago and it's been reported that you did it again last night and added assault this time to a waitress named 'Big Peg."

"Whoa, wait a minute," I started to protest.

"Oh, and just for fun, you were handed a citation last night for fornicating with a cat in your apartment. Yeah, you're a real class act," he said, tossing the sheet on the table in front of us. "Your only hope is to plead guilty and hope the sentencing judge is having a real good day and not a cat lover."

"I didn't fuck a cat last night and I didn't assault anyone let alone..."

"All rise! Judge Charles Chapman is taking the stand," commanded the bailiff. A short balding man in black robe and horned rimmed glasses took the stand and sat. "This case 41189-74, attempted armed robbery of a post office."

"Let's make this quick, I need a smoke. Class "A" felony," mumbled the judge as he skimmed the arrest warrant. Then he looked up over his glasses at me. "Young man, you tried to rob old man Johnson with a water gun? What were you thinking? You might go to jail for the rest of your life."

"Your honor I didn't..."

"Silence your client, Potter," ordered the judge.

"Will you just shut up until I say otherwise," Potter hissed at me and then flashed the judge a wicked grin.

"What is your client's plea, Potter?"

"Guilty, Your Honor."

"No! I'm innocent." I cleared my throat and said, "My plea is not guilty, Your Honor, Sir."

"So, Potter, what is your client's plea?" asked the judge, wringing his hands, badly in need of a smoke.

"Guilty," replied Potter.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at him.

"You're going down, so you might as well just throw yourself at the mercy of the court," he replied, loud enough for the court guards fifty feet behind us to hear.

"You're fired," I said to Potter and turned back to the judge. "Your Honor, I plead not guilty."

"Okay, what does the DA's office want on bail?" asked the judge, clearly fidgeting.

"We ask that Ralph Helpers be held without bail, Your Honor," asked a young district attorney that looked familiar to me.

"Isn't that a little severe considering this is this mans first offense and the hold up was with a water gun? Clearly he meant no harm to Mr. Johnson," asked the judge, sounding as if he was on my side somewhat.

"Well there's a report here that says that Mr. Helpers committed a theft and assault at a public restaurant last evening and stole the manager's car," said the DA as he handed the judge the report.

Judge Chapman glanced at the report and looked up.

"Is the restaurant and the manager pressing charges?" he asked, tapping his feet in need of a nicotine fix.

"No, Your Honor, but you might want to read what he did afterward," the DA said.

The judge read further and then took his glasses off and looked directly in my eyes. "You fucked a cat last night?"

"No! That was my friend and his girlfriend."

"You allowed your friend and girlfriend to desecrate a poor kitty cat in your presence last night?" asked the judge, nearly jumping out of his chair.

"No! That never happened!" I said, nearly in tears.

There was a commotion in the back of the court and then a giggle and snort.

"Order in the court," shouted Judge Chapman as he looked to see what the commotion was about. Then he noticed someone coming toward the visitors railing. I looked and a huge smile formed on my face.

"Donna!" shouted the Bailiff.

"Donna!" shouted the DA.

"Donna!" shouted Judge Chapman.

"Hi guys," she said, flapping her sleeves at them. Behind her was Mr. Johnson.

"Donna, why have you come to my courtroom?" asked Chapman, forgetting he needed a smoke.

"I had to, Ralph didn't do anything wrong. Can I talk to the DA a minute?" she said, waving at the guy that looked familiar.

"This is unusual, but go ahead," he said, smiling at 'My Girl'.

Donna motioned for the DA to come over to her. Mr. Johnson and she had a very animated conversation with him and then the DA nodded and came back to his table.

"Your Honor, it seems there's been a misunderstanding with Mr. Helpers here and we wish to drop the charges."

"Sounds good to me," said the judge, as he held his hand out to his bailiff who handed him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "If anybody needs me, I'll be outside. Oh, by the way, nice to see you, Donna," he said as he booked out the side door.

The bailiff took off the handcuffs and I made my way to Donna. The DA was trying to get her phone number.

"I told you Norm, Ralph is my boyfriend."

Norman! Of course! As a senior he had a thing for Donna while we were still in ninth grade. I always thought it was a bit sick for an eighteen year old wanting something to do with a fourteen year old. It didn't explain the Judge and bailiff.

"Take a hike, Norm," I said, pushing him away.

"Think about it?" he asked hopefully. Donna waved at him as he moved away.

"I'm sorry Mr. Johnson, I didn't mean to scare you," I said to the old man.

"Ralph, when I realized it was you I wasn't scared, I just couldn't believe you were doing that to me. Donna explained it all, that's why I'm here." He gave me a wink and said, "Good luck with her, she's one in a million."

Donna hugged me and snorted. "I'm so sorry, Ralph. I didn't know what happened to you."

"Where did you go?" I asked, relieved and peeved.

"When you went in to the Post Office, I noticed that the mission was open so I went in to cheer up the kids in there. I was well into my repertoire when I heard there was a robbery. I thought you were already done and looking for me when I realized it was you that robbed the Post."

"I didn't..."

She put her clean and sweet dryer fresh sweater sleeve over my mouth. "I know you didn't. That's why I talked to Mr. Johnson and brought him down here."

I put my arms around her. "Donna, I don't know how to thank you."

"I got you into it. If I wasn't so ditzy it wouldn't have happened," she said softly into my ear.

"Don't worry about it, it's over now. By the way, how do you know the judge?"

She looked around and said, "I'll tell you when we're outside." She led me out of the courtroom where it was now evening. She talked as we walked to my car that she used to get to court. "The judge and the bailiff are...an item, if you get my drift."

My eyebrows went up several inches.

"Yeah, I figured that out when I used to go around collecting cans for the mission from house to house before I moved. At the judge's place, the bailiff answered the door every time. They actually are very discreet."

"Their secret is safe with me," I said as she walked me to my car.

* * *

What the hell is 'an item' and what's the secret?

* * *

Later in my apartment, Donna fixed us a few sandwiches and we sat talking. There wasn't any attempt to be funny or do a stupid stunt. She was as subdued for Donna as I'd ever seen her. I asked her if she feeling okay and she assured me she was.

"What's wrong then?" I asked.

"Nothing at all, except I don't know what I did with them," she replied.

With all that had happen in the last twenty four hours I wasn't sure what she talking about. Then it hit me. "The party favors?"

"No," she said, unenthusiastically.

I didn't know what she was talking about. "What, Donna?"

She finished her sandwich and gave me a sad look. "The condoms."

I walked into my room and came out with the package she was fretting about. "These?"

"Where were they?" she asked, perking up.

"In my pocket. The cops let me keep them in case I needed them in the lockup."

Donna snorted. "You didn't, did you?"

"Nope."

* * *

I'm not sure if I really want to read anymore of this. Pop, please give me a sign whether or not you're going to give all the dirty details...

* * *

What follows are all the dirty details.

* * *

Thanks Pop...Aw screw it, I'll read it anyway...

* * *

For the next few minutes, Donna and I read the instructions and acted out the proper deployment of the condom on a banana. We didn't want to make any mistakes because we only had two left.

"I think I've got the idea, Ralph," she snorted. "So, do you want to just jump in the sack and say goodbye to virginity or do you have a plan?"

Like most guys, I hadn't really worked the whole thing out. I was too worried about making it happen to care how it happened. I walked into the kitchen to get a soda and when I returned, Donna had the condom stretched over the top of her head and was trying to pull it down.

"What are you doing?"

She got up and went to the bathroom and started laughing. By the time she returned, she had it worked down to her nose. "I wanted to see what a dickhead looked like, or in this case a condomhead."

I realized from the way she was shaking that she was nervous and so was I. Both of us had to calm down or this was going to be a horrible attempt at first time sex.

I got an idea.

"You know, I think I need shower after being in that lockup." I walked up to her took a sniff. "You could use one too."

"I do?" she said stunned and sniffed her armpits. "No I don't...oh, I get it. You want to do it together. Well, do you want to do it with me or with condomhead?" she asked, pointing to the rubber still halfway down her head.

"You."

"Good," she said, pulling the thing off her head. "I was starting to sweat in there."

We undressed each other until all that was left was Donna's JC Pennys All Cotton 38 DD bra. I had a feeling that Donna was a bit bigger than the bra boasted as it was straining to hold her in. She saw me gawking and asked if I wanted to take it off or did I "want to watch?"

"I'm waiting for the midnight matinee," I replied, noting the time.

She moved into the open area of the living room between the sofa and coffee table and the broken TV, and crooked her finger for me to come to her. I followed and she began to dance to some tune.

"Dum, dum, dum, bub, bub, ba ," she hummed, as she made exaggerated moves shaking her shoulders causing her breasts to strain and jiggle in their confinement. Several times she turned her back and unclasped the bra and clasped it as she gyrated around. At one point she turned her chest to me and pushed the squished pair into my face.

"Dum, dum, dum, bub, bub, ba ," She hummed as he ground herself into my happy face. She switched gears and turned her back to me with the clasps unhooked. As she attempted to hook them back, she accidentally let go and the metal clamp hit me in the eye and nose and down I went. Donna stopped humming at the sound of the thud as I hit the floor.