The Blameless Bystander Ch. 01

James walked over and looked out the window to the football field beyond.

"You'll have a hard time keeping their minds on their work until football season is over," she mused.

"You can hardly blame them," he replied. "I was never big enough for football. I ran cross country."

"What do you do for fun now?" she asked.

"I've been so busy that I haven't gotten that far yet," James answered absent-mindedly. "What does everyone else do?"

"I don't imagine that you hunt or fish," she speculated. James shook his head. "Well, there are other things to do. Some like to go out to the bars." James winced slightly. "There are plenty of ways to spend time," she added apologetically, as though she thought it her duty to provide James with a diversion. "I'm sure that I'll figure something out," James agreed.

"Indoor sports!" she blurted out, but didn't blush or turn her head way as the words sallied forth and she raised her eyebrows.

"Huh—bowling?" a naïve James queried.

Abby stifled a chuckle at James' expense.

"Why don't you ask around at Nathan's Labor Day Party?" she suggested. "You're going aren't you?"

"I hadn't heard about it before now. He didn't invite me," James answered.

"You don't need an invitation!" she waved dismissively. "All the staff from the High School is invited. I'll be there with my husband. Just come as you are. I'll give you the address when we get back to the office."

**********

That afternoon James cashed his check and performed all his errands. He thought how kind it was for Nathan to arrange for an advance. He drove to Corning and looked at television sets and other things, but decided to forego it, since he hadn't had the cable hooked up yet. He bought a clock-radio instead. Later, he reckoned that passing on the television was a good idea, since it would have conflicted with the reading that he wanted to do.

He did buy a bottle of Scotch and a few other items for personal diversion. Late in the afternoon he went shopping for food and learned what it was like in a grocery store, as he laid in a supply of food. He didn't know much about cooking, but figured to learn. For that night, though, he walked down to Main St. and treated himself to the Meatloaf Special at the Village Diner.

It had been a long and tiring day. James decided that Descartes could wait. He was too tired to concentrate enough to appreciate him. He stripped to his underwear, peeled back the covers on his bed and lay down, propped up by the pillows. He set his glass of Scotch on ice on the nightstand. He started to thumb through the Playboy magazine that he bought in Corning, but then set it down.

Instead, he thought about his encounter with the lovely blonde jogger early in the morning, wondering if she would reappear on the morrow to feed his fantasies anew. His time with Abby deserved some analysis, as well. He thought that she might be flirting with him but could not be sure. What she had meant by 'indoor sports', he could not be certain, and the strategic bending at the filing cabinet might have been completely unintentional.

While the young, athletic jogger fueled his fantasies, James couldn't help wonder what the trim little Abby might have underneath that full denim skirt. He scolded himself for thinking about it—she told him that she was married and he had seen the rings, but he was entitled to wonder, now free of his vows. Something told him that whatever was under that skirt was worth the price of the view.

He took a sip of whiskey and realized that he had a full erection. The Playboy beckoned and he picked it up. He had never seen one. He pondered his lack of experience. He reached under the waistband of his briefs to adjust the insistent member. It was hard and James reckoned that it wasn't going to calm down anytime soon. He realized that, except for a few involuntary wet dreams of his youth, he had never ejaculated under any circumstance.

As he touched himself, a tiny ripple of pleasure ran from his groin to his brain. He had never done that. He liked it and did it again, intending to stop before things went too far. He gently rubbed his thumb over the tiny slit and felt a thick, slippery fluid that had leaked out. He knew what it was. In a certain way, for the first time he saw himself as a man with this last part included. He slid his fingers along the underside of the glans and then the scrotum. The pleasure was new and to be savored.

He thought of the blonde runner, breasts bouncing, nipples protruding. Somehow, thinking about her while he caressed himself made the pleasure more intense. She seemed so perfect—except, of course in her disagreeable disposition. His thoughts shifted to Abby. He still couldn't figure out if she was flirting with him or not—but what if she was? His first vision was an ideal, but Abby was more within reach. She was closer to his age, an everyday person. He could paint a fantasy of her without embarrassment; she looked good even if she lacked model attributes. He could see himself and her together, and remain guilt-free, for he knew that she was married and he would never have her. Regardless, her image allowed an aspect of reality into his dream.

She could be standing before him at that moment, unbuttoning the waist band of that skirt, letting it slide to the floor. She would do the same with her sleeveless blouse, and then approach the bed to be with him. Then, she would stand still at the edge of the bed so that he could see her. It wasn't her curves, or even the anticipation of pleasure that was most exciting. It was her eyes, and the desire shining out of them, as she prepared to join him. It was desire of him, acceptance, understanding. Her petite body would fit perfectly against his, and at the right time he would help her out of that little bra, and assist her with her panties as she raised her hips.

Her eyes would be burning; she would be as excited as he. She wouldn't wait long, but climb atop him and slowly sink down, impaling herself—and him—with pleasure as he entered her to the hilt. He would reach up and grasp her small breasts; she would purr with the delight of it.

"Let me!" she would whisper in a husky voice as she rose up, preparing to impale herself on him anew. He waited for it; for his reinvasion into the warm folds awaiting him. She began her descent until...

James erupted in a groan of pleasure, sending semen into the air and landing on his chest, on the sheets beside him, even a small amount spattered on his forehead. It was his first conscious ejaculation of his life. It surprised him; it happened so fast and careened out of control so easily. He hadn't even been aware that he had slipped his underwear down around his knees, or grasped himself, or the stroking motion that he performed without thinking. It was intense pleasure. It quickly arrived, then flew away. He liked it; he wondered if it was like real sex. He got a wash cloth from the bathroom and cleaned up.

His tidying up complete he laid on his bed again, exactly where he started the evening. His penis was once again comfortably flaccid. In the darkness he wondered if he had performed an evil deed. He thought that he had not, but could not be sure. At any rate, he had done it. He downed the rest of his whiskey and felt better able to sleep.

************

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Autumn Writer