St. Chester Ch. 07

Fred Has a Story to Tell

All the characters in this story are fictional and over the age of 18.

I don’t know how long we lay entangled on top of the bed. It felt like time didn’t count and we could remain there while the world spun along without us. This illusion was broken by the sound of the key in the lock. I tried to pull away from Li to present a decent appearance, but Li wasn’t having any of it. She held me locked in her embrace.

The door opened and a face poked in. “Can we come it?”

“Who’s we?”

The door opened the rest of the way. “WE are!” Darcy and Joey came bouncing into the room together. “We won’t look . . .” Joey began,

“if you don’t want us to,” Darcy finished, her curious eyes belying her words as she drank in the sights. “Isn’t he just wonderful?” she continued, addressing her words to Li.

Li sat up, not attempting to cover herself in the process. “Definitely as advertised. I owe you big, roomy.”

“Pass it along. I owe him big time, too,” Darcy replied.

“Yeah, me too,” said Joey. “Why, Fred is becoming a Yenta, or something.”

“Pfew,” I said. “I thought you were going to say, ‘pimp.’”

“Not quite a pimp, I don’t think,” said Joey. “It’s more like he’s a sex therapist.”

“Yeah, a teacher of sexual delights.”

“Technique, too.”

“I can see his ad now: Fred Fringle: Unlicensed Sex Therapist. He will get you off.”

“Hey, guys. Let’s not make too much of this. I was just trying to lend a hand where it was needed.”

“Yeah, lend a hand, a mouth, and a cock, more like,” Darcy laughed.

“Always willing to help,” I replied. “Hey, thanks for making scarce, guys. Li and I really appreciated it.”

“It’s okay. We had a pretty good time, too.”

“How did you get so smart about fucking anyway?” Joey asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well, I learned a lot from Molly. I mean her body is a prime instructional aid, but I had a lot of help from some girls I knew in high school, too.”

“You must have started young.” Li commented.

“Actually, I got a pretty late start. You see I was one of the biggest dweebs of all time. But then something happened you’d never believe.

“It happened like this. You see, there were four girls I hung around with. One day they got together for a slumber party.

“In the way of young girls everywhere, they were talking about the guys they knew in school. One of them casually mentioned something that happened in English.

“Mr. Freeman made everybody bring their ‘favorite’ poems to class. Everybody hated that assignment, but Mr. Jones told us ‘If some of you don’t have a favorite poem; just pretend, if you have to. Oh, yes, please be prepared to tell the class why you like it best.’

“Up to then,” she continued, “I’d never particularly noticed Fred Fringle. Unlike the rest of the guys and most the girls, he actually admitted to ‘grooving’ as he put it, the poem he read. At first he read with fits and starts, ‘I went out to um, the hazel wood, er, because a fire was in my head,’ but before long the poem started to flow and his voice became strong,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I turned to blow the fire aflame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

“By the time he got to the last stanza, I was enrapt”

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

“By the time he finished, I was wet between the legs—something that had never happened to me before except at night in bed.

The girls name was Melanie. Sometimes she thought she was too old (eighteen) for slumber parties, but in truth, she hadn’t become swept up in dating yet and had three special girl friends that were in more or less the same position, as she and they tended to hang together. That is not to say they didn’t manage to find dates to the major school dances, but rarely any other occasions, and the dances weren’t exactly hot dates if you know what I mean.

Here’s the way she described the whole thing to me. I’ll tell the rest of the story in her voice.

“Okay, you’re right. We are skaggs, at least in the popular opinion of the in-crowd of our school, for whom, if you don’t spend all your time toning and shopping and combing your hair, you are out in left field. If you read instead of watching MTV . . . I’m sorry, I’m getting carried away. It may be that I’m just bitter; I tell myself that I don’t want to be like them but if truth be told, and I have promised to tell the truth, if truth be told, I would like to have the kind of social life they do. I’m just not prepared to pay the price you apparently have to pay.

So we four skaggs kinda hung out together and sleep over at each other’s homes. You guys, you wouldn’t like to hear what we have to say about you. Not that it’s that bad, but you’d be surprised. We’re thought to be prissy, but we aren’t prissy when we compare the guys in our class. You know, who has the tautest buns, the biggest bulge, the cutest dimples. Whose face we’d like to sit on. (Yes that’s right and we know what it means. You aren’t the only ones who sneak videos out of your parents’ bedrooms).

I was the last to arrive Friday evening at Melody’s (not to be confused with me, Melanie) house and I could tell right a way that I’d missed out on something from the girlish (yes, I admit it, but come on, we are girls) laughter rolling up the stairs to meet me as I descended to the basement.

“Okay, guys, what’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Marsha was just telling us about the charades game in Mrs. Meelie’s room.”

“Huh? I didn’t hear about it.”

“Well, Jane the mane--I hate her hair—always wants to show off, so she was first to act out a word and she started by hugging herself so from behind it looked like she was making out with a guy, so everyone snickered and guessed, ‘making out,’ ‘kissing,’ making love,’ (Billy Freeman who’ll say anything said ‘fucking,” and like that and she keep egging everyone on as if they were close, but it went on and on and nobody could figure out what the hell she was getting at. Finally everyone gave up and she told us the answer was ‘wet.’ Mrs. Meelie said she didn’t understand what her acting out was trying to get at, and Jane said, ‘it’s like you’re making out and you get wet, you know?’”

“Ick!” I said.

“Super ick,” Melanie said. “but that’s not all. Mrs. Meelie got really bent. She turned bright red and grabbed Jane by the ear and dragged her out of the room and down to the office to talk to the vice principal.”

“Yeah,” Marsha said. “I was in the office and the first thing I know, the Meelie drags Jane in and sets her down and walks into the principal’s office and then I hear ‘whisper whisper whisper,’ and then I hear Mr. Jones yelling, ‘there is no way I’m going to talk to Jane about what happens to her when she gets sexually excited.’ Then he says, ‘I don’t care. You take care of it, or I’ll just hold her until the end of the period and let her go. Really Mrs. Meelie, sometimes the best thing is just to do nothing.’”

“I hate to say it, but the man can be cool. If only he weren’t principal.” said Melanie.

Melody chipped in, “We’re lucky he’s principal and not Meelie.”

Then Marsha said, “I just wish I knew what it was like to get wet because of what a guy was doing to me.”

And I confessed that I’d got wet listening to Freddy read that poem I told you about. “Fred Fringle? But he’s a geek.” I’m not sure who said it but that was the general consensus.

“I don’t care if he is a geek. I think he’s cute. I know he’s smart and to me, he’s as cute as any of the jocks and a lot nicer than most of them.”

“You’re right,” said Melody. “Listen to us. Being down on the guys who are most like us. We should know better.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” said Melanie. “Fred is kinda cute. But who are the other guys who are ‘our equivalents, as you put it?”

We had quite a discussion and finally came up with a list: Fred, Louis, Danny and Mark. “I think we should kidnap them and make them do our will,” Melanie said in jest.

“That would be hard.”

“God, I hope it would be hard.” Everybody laughed at the double entendre.

“What would your will be?”

“Well, I’d like to get real hot and see what it’s like.”

“Don’t you masturbate?”

“You know I do, but it isn’t the same and you know that too. What else do we talk about.”?

“How far would you go?”

“I don’t know. Pretty far, maybe.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. Why not?”

“Don’t you want to stay a virgin?”

“Not particularly. Do you?”

The consensus was no. “But what if you don’t like it?”

“Then I won’t do it. That’s pretty easy.”

“You don’t really mean it.”

“Maybe not, but I sure would like to give it a chance to happen.”

“I know what you mean. I just isn’t fair that the jocks and cheerleaders have all the fun. You know, what we need is our own alternative ‘in’ group.”

“Ha ha. ‘In’ group. Is that a double ententre?”

“Man, I wish Mrs. Meelie never taught you that term. You see double meanings everywhere you look.”

“Well, sorrie.”

“Actually, that one’s pretty funny.”

We fantasized all the way to dinner and after dinner we took the topic up again. Did we have to courage to act on this fantasy? If so, how?

“How about a pool party?”

“Oh sure, and your family can all take notes.”

“Umm, Mom and Dad are going to a trade show in San Diego and Billy is going to stay with his Dad.”

“That’s right, you have different fathers, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are, Marge?” Yep, that’s right: Melanie, Melody, Marsha and Marge. The four ‘M’s.

“Well, we could have a pool party with a very exclusive guest list.”

“God, let’s do it.”

“Okay,” Marsha the planner said. Who’s going to be in charge of refreshments? What are we going to drink? Can any one get booze? What else?”

“How about some ice breakers?”

“Melanie and I will take care of that.”

“No, let’s all do that tonight. It should be a gas. I’m thinking strip poker . . . “

“No way. We’ll be in swim suits, how much stripping will there be?’

“How much stripping do you want?”

“How about ‘Truth or Dare?”

“I can get some really righteous dope from my brother,” I said.

“Can we trust him?”

“Don’t worry. He won’t bust us.”

“This is going to be so cool.”

“Should we get condoms? I mean, who will get condoms?”

“Are you sure about that? We’re not going to like have an orgy, first thing, are we?”

“Maybe not, but we should be ready.”

“God, I can’t believe it. But we can’t do that. What if someone talked?"

That was like a dash of cold water. What if, indeed. “We need some kind of insurance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what if . . . “

I haven’t written in all the oohs, ahhs, and giggles. I’m not a professional writer, but I bet you can imagine where they go. About every other word, if you need help guessing. I could tell you all our plans, but instead, I’ll let you discover them as they unfolded.

We made one big planning mistake. We didn’t have a list of alternates. Actually, only one of the boys couldn’t make it (and he was sorry) and we figured out his replacement during P.E.

It’s a good thing the pool is indoors because God did not smile on our plans. It was raining like hell. But where we live, the pool has to be indoors or we’d hardly ever be able to use it because of the harsh winters and it would fill with pine needles the rest of the year. The pool is pretty small. The only reason we have it is because of my mom’s rheumatism. But living where we do, it doesn’t have to be big; it’s a treat at any size.

The day arrived. I hadn’t slept for days. My nights were full of fevered dreams and fantasies that were too hot to be real. But I gave my imagination full reign. Freddy arrived first, and the sweetie, he even brought a bouquet of flowers. They were wild flowers, but it was still a sweet touch. “Can I help you get ready?”

“Well, you could help . . . but actually, everything’s been ready all day. I haven’t thought of anything else.”

“How many guys are coming?”

“Three other ‘guys’ and three more girls.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s a small pool.”

“Where is it?” I took Freddy down the trail to the pool house which is a pretty ideal party room with chaise lounges, lounge pads, a small bar with a barbecue and refrigerator and a couple of plastic tables, around which were arranged eight plastic chairs.

“This is way cool. I never knew this was here. Oh, oh. Your folks left a 12-pack of beer in the refrigerator.”

“Actually there are three more and no they didn’t. That’s for tonight. Have one.”

Just then I heard the sound of tires on gravel and Freddy and I ran, cans of beer in hand, up to meet Louis and Mark who arrived in the same car with Melanie and Melody. Dan and Marsha didn’t arrive for another fifteen minutes but that wasn’t surprising because Marsha was picking up the pizzas.

Putting the pizzas aside for later, boys and girls headed for their respective changing rooms where we girls giggled thinking about the boys reaction to the pin ups we’d pinned on their dressing room walls. Before long we were at poolside in our new suits yelling at the boys, what’s taking you so long. We were sure they would have erections and they probably did because when we didn’t stop yelling at them to come, they emerged carrying beach towels in front of them.

“Here, let me have that towel, Fred,” I teased.

Now let me say this; I don’t pretend that we were visions of loveliness. After all, we’re not ‘in’ and there’s probably a reason for this, but I think we looked damn good. We’d all spent a day in the big city, a four hour drive away, by the way, shopping for suits and the result was eight tiny pieces of cloth that didn’t make more than a bow to decency. The boys must have like them because they all said ‘wow’ before diving in the pool (to hide their reactions, I suspect). We followed close behind and proceeded to tease them in every way we could think of without being overt about it. Splashing, swimming between their legs while rubbing against their ball sacks, and thrusting our busts in their faces.

After a while Marsha set stage one into action when she dived into the pool and ‘accidentally’ lost her top in the process. She stood with her hands over her breasts and asked if anybody could see the top, which she’d carefully tossed to the far side of the pool. Any of the guys who didn’t see a lot wasn’t trying as she artfully wiggled back into the top again.

“You know I usually don’t wear a suit when I swim here. It feels really neat to go through the pool without a suit,” I said, from some experience.

“I noticed,” said Marsha. “I mean, look at my nipples. Oops, I didn’t say that.” And she quickly put her hands over her breasts.

It wasn’t much later that Danny was standing at the edge of the pool and Melody suddenly pulled down his trunks and pushed him into the pool where he didn’t land gracefully. His face was bright red as he quickly fumbled trying to pull his trunks up again but not before we could check him out. His butt was just as taut as I thought and his cock was erect, sticking out straight from his body.

“Nice cock,” Melanie yelled. Danny blushed even redder.

Mark, who is one of the coolest dudes, even if he isn’t in, said, “Do you want to see mine too?”

“Who, me,” asked Melanie?

“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me your tits.”

“Yeah, show us your tits,” said Danny. “Fair is fair.”

Mark jumped out of the pool. Always one for the main chance, he quickly dropped his trunks and stood at the edge of the pool. “Is this what you want to see?” His cock was really erect and I suddenly realized that Danny’s cock had only been half hard because it stood out straight while Mark’s was pointing at the ceiling, bouncing against his stomach. After posing for what seemed like a long time—maybe five or six seconds, Mark jumped into the pool and swam over to Melanie and said, "I’ll help you with your top. " He quickly reached behind her back and before she could re-think the issue, he untied the string and threw the top as far up on the apron of the pool as it would go. “Nice tits. Really.”

I’ll give Melanie this. She didn’t shrink from his inspection. I know she must have been shrinking inside, but she stood proud, back arched, thrusting her chest forward. And in justice, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Her tits were medium sized but more than any one of us, they had the classic ski-jump shape with the nipples just where the skier would have been when she took off on her jump.

While she stood there, the world stood still for the rest of us and we watched as Mark slowly reached over to give her breasts a stroke, then another. Then he suddenly turned her around, dipped underwater, swam between her legs and lifted her into the air on his shoulders. “Is she beautiful or what?” he yelled.

“What about the rest of you? asked Danny. “You’ve seen Mark and me and Melody. Are you going to sit back and watch or are you in the game?”

Three bikini tops flew through the air, but when Freddy hurried to give my boobs a squeeze, I froze him. “Nobody is going to touch these tits who is wearing a suit.”

Freddy’s suit flew up out of the pool where it joined our tops. Stage one was completed, and boys being boys, we four girls were soon astride our respective dates engaged in a spirited game of horse and rider.

After playing for quite a while—long enough for the boys to lose their erections, and when most the fun was out of the game, we made our way out of the pool everybody got a beer.

“I can’t help noticing that Danny’s cock looks quite different from the other guys,” Marsha mentioned casually, though it can’t have been as casual as all that.

“He’s uncut,” said Mark.

“What does that mean?”

“The rest of us had our foreskin removed as infants. It’s called circumcision.”

“I’ve heard of circumcision, but I didn’t know exactly what it meant. Actually, I still don’t.”

“Isn’t it usually something the Jews do?”

“For us Jews it’s a ritual,” said Danny, “But a lot of Gentiles do it too. It’s supposed to be for sanitary reasons.”

“Oh. I don’t understand.”

“Show her, Danny.” Freddy said.

“Aw . . .” Danny blushed.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” said Marsha.

“Naw, I’ll show you. He pulled his foreskin back. “See, under this skin is always wet and makes a good culture for growing bacteria. I have to be careful to keep it clean.”

“Then why doesn’t everybody do it?”

“Well, it’s more sensitive with the foreskin attached so sex is more enjoyable and some people think you can last longer without coming because the penis rides inside its own skin.”

“That doesn’t make sense, it can’t be both more sensitive and less.”

“I guess that’s right. I can’t judge.” Danny blushed. “I still haven’t used it to make love.”

By now his uncut penis was engorged with blood and standing proud. Marsha continued her questioning. “How do they remove the forehead?”

Everybody laughed. “Foreskin, dummy.”

“Foreskin. Anyway, how?”

Mark showed her his circumcision scar. They cut right here. You can still see the scar.”

Marsha put a finger and thumb around it. Mark’s cock leapt up and filled quickly until it was as erect as Danny’s.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hungry.” I said. “I’ll put the pizza in the oven.” Freddy walked over to his suit and started to put it on. “Aw, don’t do that.” I said.