Home for the HolidaysbyWRJames©
"There's a girl on the phone for you." Tom's mother was looking at him with a knowing smirk. "Someone named Cindy."
"You asked her what her name was?" Tom was bristling. He'd only been home for a day and he was ready to go back to school. How had he ever managed to live here? It was too hot, it was too crowded, there wasn't enough food. His brother had taken over the bedroom, so that he had to sleep out on the living room couch, with the dog. Probably just as well. He still was afraid his brother was going to barge into the bedroom while he was changing, that his brother would see how swollen his cock was ...
"I didn't ask her," his mother interrupted his train of thought. "She called and asked if this was the Waterson residence, and I said yes, and she said this is Cindy may I talk to Tom please. She sounds," his mother added, "like a very polite young lady."
Oh yeah, Tom thought to himself, fucking bitch nearly tore my dick off. That same piece of anatomy was attempting to spring to attention at the thought of her.
"I thought your girlfriend's name was Lisa?"
"It is Lisa." He went out to the kitchen to answer the phone before his mother could continue her interrogation.
"Tommy, is that you?" Cindy's voice seemed faint. She was, after all, a continent away, back in California to see her mother for the holidays.
"No, it's fucking Santa Claus." A sigh from his mother made him regret that. She was nowhere to be seen. With a panic, he realized that she might be listening in from the line in the den.
"Well, fucking Santa, you can slide up my fucking chimney any time. Only the next time, maybe up the big one."
"Cindy, please." He was sure he was hearing little gasps in the background. His mother, outraged. No, his mother trying not to laugh.
"At least to start."
"How is Palo Alto?"
"Boring! Boring! Boring! And it's rainy all the time now. I'm coming back just before New Years. I'm going to spend New Years back with my dad. Happy New Years sixty-nine. Maybe it's going to be our year." She giggled, and Tom gave a little groan. "Well, it's okay. I'd rather fuck anyway. How about you?"
"Either is okay."
"No, silly, when are you coming -- I mean returning?"
"I'm back for track practice the next week."
"Great. I'll see you then. You know Lisa isn't coming back until the term starts. Maybe we can do a little more chimney sweeping in the meantime."
No, that's what he should have said. No way in hell. He was in love with Lisa. Well, he liked her a lot, a whole lot. She was beautiful and sexy. She was the first girl who had gotten naked for him, who had let him kiss her nipples and her clit. They had never actually had true sex, but they had climaxed together many times. Well, not that many, a few dozen, perhaps. The last night before she had to leave for home, they had lain together naked in her bed and she had whispered that she loved him. And he had whispered back, so quietly that it was barely said, that he loved her too. That's what he should have told Cindy, that it was all a mistake, that he could never make that mistake again. But instead he said, "Sounds good to me," just before a click announced the end of the conversation.
It sounded so good that he had to rush to the bathroom to avoid coming in his pants. But when he got there, his poor cock was still so swollen that he could hardly bear to touch it. Damn! It was twice its usual diameter, red and aching. He wondered briefly if Cindy had given him some venereal disease. More likely, hopefully, it was just irritation from cleaning out her little chimney for so long with no lubrication.
It wasn't as if he had intended to. Really he hadn't intended anything at all. The girl had been flirting with him for a couple of weeks, but they were just friends. There wasn't anything to it. He only knew her because she was Lisa's friend. Everyone knew that he and Lisa were a number. Then, all of a sudden, the night before he was heading home, there she was, at his door. His roommate was gone already, most of the dorm was gone already. He was lonely. She was lonely. Why not share a pizza, why not have a couple of beers? His roommate had a little stash of pot that was going to spoil, wouldn't it? The cleaning ladies might find it, they were known to go through everything when the students were gone. Better get rid of it before there was trouble.
The next thing he'd known, she'd been complaining about how hot it was. She'd taken off her sweatshirt. Nothing underneath but a bra. Then she'd taken off her blue jeans. He'd never realized what a nifty little body she had, not tall and lanky like Lisa, but tiny, barely more than five feet tall, short legs, big butt, little perky breasts, like Tinkerbelle. She'd been sitting there cross legged, with her panties slid half way over, so that he could see her pussy lips poking out on one side. At that point, Tom had done the polite thing, and asked her if she wanted to go to bed. No fumbling, no kissing, none of those pathetic groping attempts at breast or groin. Not even a preliminary kiss. He had just asked, and she had removed her remaining clothing and stretched out on the bed, her knees drawn up to expose herself completely to him.
She had not realized that it was all bluff on his part. Well, maybe she knew. For all he knew the girls talked to each other. Maybe Lisa had told her that he'd never gone beyond a blow job and some pussy licking, maybe rubbing his cock between closed thighs in simulated sex. Never actually inside. Lisa wanted to remain a virgin, technically. So he was still a virgin, technically. Maybe.
Certainly he had been for sure, up until two nights ago. Then Cindy had shown up, and they'd gone to bed. Well, it wasn't that simple. She had taken off her clothes and lain down on his bed and he had just stared at her for a while. Then he'd had the presence of mind to take off his own clothing. That was a good start. He knew well enough that he had a beautiful body. He could hear a little gasp of admiration as he took his shirt off. Not so much so when he pulled off his pants. Okay, he was no giant, but he was big enough. Bigger than his teammates. They'd had a little contest, one day after soccer practice and he'd come out the winner in length, if not in thickness. Maybe she was used to something wider? He stared down at his cock now -- twice as thick as it had been. Maybe it would stay like that. Maybe ass fucking would make it grow.
He had stared at her, at her breasts, at her expectant face, at her pussy lips spread for his delectation, and he had withered. Even now he was flushing in embarrassment at the memory. He remember reading Ovid's Art of Love, that line about wilting at the very moment the gates were opened wide, and he'd realized it was happening to him. This girl probably did not weigh a hundred pounds, and she was making him tremble in terror. What was that other line from Ovid? They lick, not fuck? That was an idea. He'd knelt down at the bottom of the bed and pressed his tongue into her tangy flesh. And she had liked that, she had liked that a lot. But just when it had seemed like she was really liking it, she'd told him that she didn't want to come that way, and she'd pulled his hair to get him up on top of her.
He hadn't been so scared since the time in high school he'd dared to ask out the Swedish exchange student. He was still completely limp, not just limp, shrivelled, cold, numb. He wasn't even sure if he still had a penis. So he'd started to rub between her legs, the way he did with Lisa. That was all Lisa wanted, it was all he was really prepared to do. Then, something had happened. He had started to get hard. He'd started to enjoy it. He'd just kept rubbing. There wasn't as much friction as he was used to with her legs pulled up like that, so he'd rubbed back further, back between her cheeks. And she'd given him a little quizzical look, a little grunt of surprise, and he'd been inside her.
Or was he? Maybe he was just trapped in between her cheeks. He had reached down to feel that he definitely was not in her pussy. He had stuck a couple of fingers in there, he had rubbed her clit a little, and she had come. She had come several times before he finally had ejaculated. "That was real," she'd said, and she had pulled on her clothes and left. He had expected that she would never talk to him again. But now she'd called. Now she was waiting for him. Well, not waiting for him yet. Soon, very soon. Five days to Christmas, twelve days until New Years, two weeks until he could be back in bed with her. That really was not so soon after all. The thought of all that waiting was too much to bear. He pressed against the sink, gave a few careful tugs, and spurted out two days of pent up desire.
When he came out of the bathroom, his father was waiting for him. "Tom, we need to have a little talk."
His father was squirming in discomfort. "Your mother was saying ... Tom, you are away at college now, you may be having ... experiences ..." His father gave Tom a pleading look. Tom said nothing. He tried to keep his expression completely noncommittal.
"Tom," his father went on, "we raised you to be a gentleman."
"Yes sir." That was enough to make Tom flush with embarrassment.
"Tom, you mother ... we ... think you should have this." His father handed him a small package, gaily wrapped. "Merry Christmas."
His father fled. Tom opened the package. It was a ten pack of Trojan Natural Lambs.
"Did you talk to him?" It was his mother's voice, in a whisper that was too loud.
"I talked to him."
"You gave him the things?"
"I gave him the things. Look on the bright side. At least he's not gay."
"Robert! Bite your tongue!"
He pulled on his sweats to head out for a long run. But his mother cornered him before he could escape to the cool darkness of the streets.
"Tom, I have a favour to ask you."
"You remember Sally?"
"Of course I remember Sally." That was a stupid question. There were pictures of Tom and Sally in tuxedo and prom dress on the piano. His senior prom, her junior prom, she being a year behind they had gone to both of them. "We broke up," he added. Not that there had been much there to begin with. She had dated Tom to impress her girlfriends, because he was good looking and a jock and the best student in the school. He had dated her to impress his teammates because she was pretty and had really big tits and a super body. He had known there was something that you were supposed to feel about a girl, but it hadn't happened for him. So he'd thought if he dated the same girl for a while, maybe made her his girl friend, that whatever it was would happen. But it never had. They were a really good looking couple, they had gone out together for a while, they had even done a little kissing and fumbling around. But there had never been any spark.
"Sally doesn't have a date for the Christmas dance."
"At the high school?" Tom's voice dripped with contempt.
"At the high school. Tom, please, I know it's short notice."
"When is it?"
"Tomorrow night. Tom, really, if you could just call her and ask her if she would like to go with you. I talked to her mother, she is really at her wit's end ... please?"
"Thank you!" His mother gave him a hug. "One thing."
"She is not a college girl. Remember that." Not one of your whores, the look in his mother's eyes said.
"She could be in college. She's a year behind because she's stupid."
"She's not stupid. What a thing to say about your girlfriend. She's a year behind because she was adopted. Plus she would have been really young for her class. She's almost a Christmas baby."
"She's not my girl friend. She never was my girlfriend. She's a girl I used to date." He emphasized the word used. Then he added, "adopted?"
"She never told you? Anyway, I don't care how old she is, she's still in high school. She's still innocent. Her mother and I are friends from church. Your father taught her confirmation class. Behave yourself."
"Yes, mother." . . . .
"What did you think of the dance?" Sally was sitting at the other side of his father's LTD. They were still in the parking lot at the high school, down by the tennis courts. Tom had a fleeting memory of Sally in a tiny little tennis skirt. She'd been sitting there, almost in the same place, glistening from the heat, legs spread wide to catch the blast of coolness from the air conditioner. And he had just stared at her, and she had laughed at his timidity. He had attempted, feebly, to make out, and she had fended him off with a dead wasp she had found on the dashboard. Then they had gone back to her house and had some lemonade.
How was the dance? One thing about Sally, she could really dance. If you saw her on the dance floor, you would think she was the sexiest girl in the universe. She was wearing this tiny little dress, no shoulders, lots of cleavage, the tiny skirt slit so that it swirled away as her hips moved. There had been a lot of slow dances, and she had been snuggling into him a lot more than he remembered from the proms. And it was all just a tease. However sexy she looked in public, she was cold as ice now, sitting there as far away as she could, huddling in her little fur wrap. He was sitting as far away as he could on the driver side, thinking how much he missed Lisa, or Cindy. He was thinking how much he hated this stuck up, cock teasing bitch who'd gotten him worked up and then held out on him so many times. But he was a sophisticated man of the world now. "Pretty tame," he said, with a yawn. "The dances at college are BYOB."
"Bring your own bottle. You bring a bottle of booze, the dance provides setups, everyone gets smashed, and you go back up to the dorm to have sex. That is, if you don't do it right under the table." Actually, that was not too much of an exaggeration. His relationship with Lisa had started at the Harvest Ball. They'd been on one date before that, a blind date, just meeting for a cup of coffee, and he had invited her to the dance, and she had accepted. She'd been very shy, very wan, not very sexy looking. Nothing like Sally. He hadn't realized that her big sister had been living with a guy for a year or two, that she was an art student who had been drawing nudes from live models, that she was a time bomb just waiting to go off.
It was getting hot in the car, with the windows closed, and Sally shrugged off her wrap. A blast of perfume came out from within -- the scent familiar. Jean Nate. The same scent Lisa used. He remembered now that Cindy had reeked of it. Yes, she had cleaned herself up, perfumed herself. She'd been wearing nice lace undies beneath the sweat shirt and blue jeans. The bitch had been planning all along to bed him.
Sally was giggling.
"What's so funny?
She pulled a little silver flask out of her purse. "Want a snort?"
"Damn!" It had a little blackberry brandy in it. He suspected that at one time it had contained quite a bit more.
"You never wondered why Jane and I were running to the ladies room all the time at the senior prom? God, I got so looped! I was waiting for you to take advantage of me." Sally took another sip from the flask. "But you were always such a gentleman." She gave a little hiccup.
There was a long, sullen silence. I'm a fool, Tom was thinking to himself, such a fucking fool. No, a non fucking fool, the very worst kind.
"Is that all it is up there, booze and sex?" Sally was trying, without too much success, to project moral outrage.
"Oh." She drew the coat back around her. The windows had steamed over completely now. He turned the ignition far enough to open his a tiny crack. "We don't have to go home yet."
"You've done it?"
"Had drugs? Just a little pot. Nothing serious."
"No. Done it. You know, done the nasty. Had sex. Along with all your booze and drugs."
"Yes." He said it with a yawn, as if it was a question not even worth asking. Well, it was more or less true.
She was looking at him in a different way now. "Really? You know, I've been out with some non virgins before. They weren't quite as shy. They weren't such, you know, gentlemen."
She slid over to the seat next to him, pressing against him. He kissed her, and she didn't stop him. He put his tongue against her kips, and she opened her mouth to greet it. He ran his left hand up her belly until it was cupped around her right breast. Really, there was so much stiff dress fabric, and bra beneath, that he really couldn't feel flesh. But she touched his hand, and squeezed, and left it there. So he moved it up a bit, to where her bare chest was heaving above the low cut bodice, and back down again, beneath the bra, to find a nipple. Her left hand was still on his, but her right hand was rubbing his thigh, searching to find where his erection was hidden. His right hand was pinned behind her, but he used it to find the clasp for her bra. Practice makes perfect. He'd worked that stunt on Lisa a few times, before they'd gotten to the point where she just took her clothes off before they started making out.
Well, he had fantasized about those breasts. He had longed to touch them, to see them, to nibble on them ...
"Stop that!" She pulled his mouth away. "That tickles!"
"It's not supposed to tickle." He put his mouth back. His right hand was free now, and he put it on her thigh. Stockings -- no, worse yet, pantyhose. And when he reached her groin, he found something stiff and hard.
"Sorry," she sighed. "Wrong time of the month."
She had found the right place to rub. He started to unzip his pants, but she stopped him. "Just like this," she said. It was just as well, he was still pretty raw. A few more rubs, and he was coming in his underwear.
"Does that feel better?" she was taunting him. "Are you feeling so relaxed now?"
She had been playing him for such a fool. No, not even that. She had been there for the taking, all along, and he had just been too timid.
"What's the matter?"
"You're mad because it was the wrong time of the month?"
"It's not that." He put his hand up under her dress, up to her hard bare belly, and began to work it back down again under the elastic restraints of the panty hose. The angle was wrong, the waistband was cutting into his wrist, and she was squirming away from him. Still, he managed to work his fingers down to find smooth hot flesh beyond a patch of fur.
"Stop it. I told you, it's the wrong time of the month."
"I'll be careful."
"I won't go too far down."
"Okay. It's almost over anyway."
She relaxed a bit, she even eased down the pantyhose a little to save his wrist. She started to shiver again as his hand worked its way downward, but she didn't pull it away. There was hair, a hint of parting, the little, not so little, nub of her clitoris. Damn, she had a cunt. What a surprise. Well, it would have been, a couple of months ago. Now his fingers knew exactly where to go. He found a nipple with his mouth, he started to rub his finger along that little nub, and she began to shudder.
Lisa had been happy, very happy, the first time he had made her come, but she hadn't been surprised. She'd even helped to show him just where and how to use his fingers to pleasure her. But Sally was surprised. She gave a gasp of astonishment, then she clenched his wrist, forcing his hand further into her, not letting it go until she had finished shuddering. "Oh my God! Is that what it feels like? Oh my God!"
Well, you little cunt, Tom thought to himself, I guess none of your non virgin friends ever did that for you. He felt a rush of anger and revenge. Serves her right, the fucking cock teasing little bitch. Then he saw the look of adoration in Sally's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. She kissed him tenderly, passionately, and he realized that he might be in a lot of trouble.