The Journey

They'd slid down to where Val could lean her back to the wall with her legs extended with Don lying on his stomach between them. When she tugged up the long gown he found that the only thing under the dress was a very needy girl with a very wet and now sweet smelling bush. He proceeded to slip his flat tongue through the soft petals, parting her pinkness and deciding that this particular dish was as wonderful as rare prime-rib. She curled her fingers in his hair and he rocked against her, pressing his raging hardon into the barely yielding carpet. She was panting, "oh my god oh my god oh my god" when he exploded in his jeans for the second time that evening and began to push him away again because it was "too much". She didn't claim any fireworks, but afterwards when he would ask her if she wanted to "sixty-nine" - she always answered, "Well, I'm up for thirty-four and a half."

During the final week of school she came in crying and refusing to be comforted, not even saying what the issue was. Don finally cornered her in the stairwell between classes.

"What's wrong, Val. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix as long as we're together."

"Oh yeah? Daddy has taken a job in New Jersey! We're moving away."

Don had done his best to promise to visit, to call her at least once a month (there were no long distance plans back then) but of course they had drifted apart. He was working a summer job in the local Safeway store when Bob showed up at his register. This was August of 1966. The Beatles had been on Ed Sullivan. Things were changing quickly. The Rambler had bitten the dust and his parents had sprung for a Plymouth with a small V-8, but an automatic with column shifter. It was their idea of a perfect car for his commute to college, but he'd have preferred a Road Runner with a Hemi. He had about as much chance of getting a second penis as that car.

"You'll never guess whom I saw at the hockey game last night", he taunted. Bob played forward on the Junior Clippers and went to hockey camp in Canada every year. "Maggie", he said before Don could guess.

"Don't you get a break at this place?"

"Yeah, I'm due for a Coke. I usually sit on the back dock to drink it. If you want to have one with me, it's on the house."

So Don grabbed a couple of Cokes from the cooler and made a mental note to put the eighty cents in the till later, and he and Bob had a heart-to-heart.

"I should never have dumped Maggie like that, I was so dumb. I practically threw her at Clay."

"Well, Clay is old news and so is Bill. Though Bill did tell me an interesting story."

"I'll bet."

"Yeah, Maggie is bangin' like a screen door. Bill said they were just smoking a cigarette when she rolled over and copped his knob. She said 'He wasn't getting away until she got her second time'."

"Look, Bob, I never thought of Maggie that way. Man, I loved her. I respected her. I just went nuts when she was paying so much attention to Clay."

"No, you look, Don. You're being really stupid about this. I bet Maggie would still go out with you, she really liked you, too."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah I do. Another thing, make sure you take some of those Trojan Naturalambs. They're really thin, like nothing at all. They're made from embryos or something. I turn on the defroster and put the packet over the vent for a while, and they are just so smooth and slippery you slide right in. If you're gonna do Maggie, go first class, pal."

So Don had mulled it over, and he'd felt stupid, but he'd bought the rubbers and finally screwed up his courage to call Maggie on the phone. She was surprised to hear from him and he took the blame for everything. (It was his fault and it was the right thing to say.) They talked on the phone for three hours, and found it was almost as if they had never been apart, they were still on the same wavelength, had the same interests, were both doing okay in college. They agreed to go for a walk in the state park the next afternoon with a tentative dinner date for that evening.

They'd strolled hand in hand through the paths in the woods. Don even read the regulations, particularly the one about "lewd behavior resulting in expulsion from the grounds and/or arrest." They'd walked down the hill toward where there was a stone railroad tunnel. The trains passed under Route 40 where it crossed through the park. Maggie wore a pale blue short-sleeved sweatshirt and pair of mint-green Bermuda shorts. Her long legs were tanned and her toes were painted red and her boobs were as compelling as ever, even in the shapeless shirt. They'd sat on a log just inside the tunnel entrance where the light was still good and they were kissing in the old familiar way. Bravely Don lifted her shirt and was rewarded with one of the most memorable sights in his life. Maggie wore a black, pretty much conventional brassiere, but the cups were huge. Moreover, it seemed to be made of black lace married to some beige fabric underneath, so it didn't show any skin, but it looked like it showed all her skin. Don was shaken to the core over how hot this was making him.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," he whispered.

Maggie kissed him again, and said, "You don't know how long I have wanted you to do that."

She glanced around at the surroundings and said, "Look, I don't want someone to walk up on us. Let's go back to my house."

By then it was nearing four, and Don wanted to shave really close and get her some flowers, since the date seemed to be very much on. So he'd driven her home with his arm around her and turned into the wooded lane that led to her house. They passed a turnaround about 200 yards from her house and then a smaller one just before where her parents place would emerge through the trees. He pulled over and kissed her hard. He wanted another look at her chest, but she was being coy or genuinely wanted him to behave. He got her shirt up and this time he reached in and extracted her right breast. The nipple was the pinkest, most perfect thing he could have imagined. A silver dollar would not have covered it and its areola; it was more the size of one of those small Dixie cups at the water fountain. He covered it with his lips and Maggie, shuddered. She emitted a long, low registered rasping sigh and said, "Oh Don, that feels so good." This put things on a completely different footing. She wanted to go back to the turnout and park there, right now!

"What if you father comes down the road?" Don worried.

"Well, I guess it's not very smart in daylight. You just take your vitamins before our date tonight, ok?"

Don managed to get her to the door, pick up an arrangement of wildflowers and a box of Whitman's candies, and get shaved and dressed in his good jeans and new shirt, and be back to pick up Maggie at seven. It was especially difficult for him to do with the memory of that incredible pink nipple in mind, but somehow he made it.

He spoke to Maggie's mother and father, who wondered why he'd been a stranger in recent months and waited on pins and needles for Maggie's appearance. She came down the stairs in a white lace blouse and a nice black skirt, complete with red strappy heels. Being so tan she was bare legged. He took her to the best place he could afford, Desi's, an Italian joint with a huge wedge of Parmesan in the foyer. They sat across from one another at a small table with a candle melted into a Chianti bottle. Maggie was a vision. Don, was trying to get into the idea of having a quick roll in the hay, but she was talking in her sweet high-pitched voice and it was difficult to keep focused. Clearly he wasn't over his feelings for her, but he needed to put them aside and be a bit less respectful. When she had come into the living room, he'd noticed the small eyelet holes in her blouse. Most of the holes were filled with tanned skin, but the ones over those glorious headlamps of hers were bright red. She wore a red bra under a white blouse? Wow, men like her tits, and she liked that men liked her tits.

"I'll bet I can embarrass you by just saying one three-lettered word, " he teased.

"You think so, huh? What word?"

"Red"

"Oh," she blushed, "you noticed the bra, did you?"

"Yes, do I get a better view later?"

"That depends," she replied, "on whether you want desert here in the restaurant or back in the turnaround."

"I think I'll get the check" he stammered.

So they had driven back to the turnaround, and as Maggie instructed, he backed into the hole and killed the lights. His Plymouth Belvedere had a chrome grille, but he'd covered it in black electrical tape, because he thought it looked sportier. He tried to dismiss the idea of her dad's truck coming down the private drive and catching them in the glare of his headlights. They exited the two-door sedan to get into the back seat and Maggie had immediately begun to undress. Her skirt and blouse were gone in a thrice and the red bra was hung over the passenger headrest. Her breasts swung freely with her nipples pointed slightly to the outside. He couldn't distinguish pinkness in the dark, but even in the dim light he could tell that Maggie had a real set of fun bags (that is, fun for the guys). He only saw enough of her underwear to identify them as the newly introduced bikini panties, rendered in a light pastel color with big polka dots (perhaps grey or blue with red, but he couldn't be sure). As for her pussy, well he supposed there was some hair, but not much that he could see, and besides she was not in a mood for any gawking, she wanted to go!

Don recalled the view of Bob's butt with the yellow shorts part way down, so he unzipped and loosened his belt, and pulled his semi-hard pecker over the top of his skivvies. He was trying to get it into her and she was doing her best to help, but his zipper was scratching her legs and the damned buckle was chewing into his thigh. This was not going the way he'd planned it at all.

Maggie was being really understanding about this.

"It needs to be warm in here. Turn on the heater, Don."

Don, pushed the front seat forward and managed to get the engine running and the heater on. He also deposited the small foil packet over the dashboard outlet and miserably stripped off his jeans and shorts, but left his t-shirt and shirts on. His glasses went on the dashboard with the condom. Maggie was also losing the mood, but biding her time. He tried to slide down between her legs and get a taste of her cunny and a peek at the orifice he wanted to occupy. Naturally he wanted to compare it to Valerie's, but most of Val's had been pretty well concealed by foliage, so if Maggie had less, this would be more interesting. However Maggie had stopped him as soon as it was clear where he was headed, saying "You don't need to waste time on that, why don't you get that raincoat on and give it to me hard."

Bob had not thought to explain to Don that lubricated condoms contained a gel or liquid mimicking natural juices, or even that you put your cockhead into the ring and just rolled it on. Don picked up the packet and tore it open, but because of the warming and the angle, all the lube poured down his left sleeve and into his armpit. With that, his desire and his erection withered and would not reappear that night.

Maggie was flummoxed and he took her home in stony silence. She'd dressed just as quickly as she'd undressed and was out of the car before it stopped rolling at her door, no kiss, no goodbye, nada.

Don went home feeling like a complete loser and threw himself into bed. The next morning he was roughly shaken awake to Bob's booming voice, "Hey, man, I brought you a gift".

He held a cheap jar of cold cream, relabeled with a strip of masking tape and lettered with Magic Marker, "Tallywacker Hardener". Don looked at the clock, it was 7:15 AM. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that Maggie had called Celeste, probably as soon as she got home, and Celeste had called Bob. Everyone knew.

"Gee thanks, Bob. Just what I fucking need."

"Well, in case you try to push a rope up hill again" - Bob wasn't relenting one iota.

"You might have told me the damned rubber was going to cum down my arm. That was pretty much a mood breaker, ya know."

So Don had endured the rest of the summer. Bob was going to Baltimore Junior College, Celeste was at Bryn-Mar. Bob had a series of running conquests with junior college girls while still ostensibly engaged to Celeste. Don went on a few dates and began to attend Army ROTC. During one of the open concerts on campus he'd spotted a blonde girl with freckles and a full chest. Her name was Kimsen and she was a high school senior, and had just turned eighteen.

Kimsen lived with her single mom, Karla in an apartment complex just north of Don's campus. She was an Irish colleen (she claimed) and one of the most blatant liars Don had ever met. Kimsen told the most outrageous stories. She was also dating, Eddie, a high school dropout who had garish scars from where a gasoline tank had exploded in this face. Kimsen didn't like to have her ears played with, because she'd been born without them and they had to be created by a plastic surgeon and hence had no sensation. Kimsen had a way of kissing that drew your tongue out of your mouth so hard it felt like it was being ripped from its roots, taught to her by Levio, a gypsy boy who'd met her while the circus he traveled with was in town. Karla had taken her to a doctor to examine her for virginity afterwards and, "Thank you Jesus!", her hymen was still intact.

Karla was forty-ish and doing her best to be a good mom, but that's difficult when you want to bring men home or spend the evening at their place. She was full bodied and dark haired and had the look of a woman who didn't only know the book, but had probably written most of it. When Bob saw her for the first time, he immediately began to press Don for an introduction. "I can fuck her while you fuck Kimsen, OK, buddy?" Bob was not only a healthy hedonist; he had an ego as big as all outdoors.

Don and Kimsen were to attend a "military ball" for the ROTC troupe, and Bob could go because he was in the same program on his campus. Kimsen was to wear her mom's silk gown, but Karla had sewn a triangle of contrasting color into the bodice because it was too much exposure for a girl Kimsen's age. As soon as they'd left the house, Kimsen had ripped the extra material out and tightened her bra straps to really make the goodies stand up. When Don was waiting for her to come out of the bedroom, he and Bob had been sitting on the sofa facing Karla as she sipped a "cocktail." Kimsen had quietly slipped down the hallway and stopped just outside her mother's field of view, as long as Karla didn't turn her head. Don's angle let him see Kimsen; Bob might have seen her, or maybe just her torso over Karla's shoulder. Kimsen lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing that she had on sheer pantyhose and nothing more covering her thick, hairy bush. Clearly, Bob was not terribly off base in thinking Karla might be willing, based upon how wild her daughter was.

They'd gone to the ball and he and Kimsen had coupled in the back seat while Bob drove the car (his date had met them at the ball and exited right after on the arm of a dashing young captain.) Kimsen's favorite ploy was to take Don's cock between her pussy lips and stroke against him until he blew his load over her ass or against the back of her dress. It wasn't exactly fucking, so, she felt safe. Don didn't mind that it looked and smelled like fucking to Bob who was probably watching in the rear view mirror.

One day after class Don had called her and wanted to come over. She seemed reluctant but finally agreed. When he pulled into the parking lot, Eddie's white Nomad (mag wheels, blower sticking out of the hood) was parked there. When Don told the man at the security desk that he was there for her, she had come down rather than allowing him up. She'd entered the lobby in a robe and said, "I was just about to get in the shower. Mom and I are going out." Don didn't need it spelled it for him, but she had begged him, "Don't be like that, sweetie, come over tomorrow afternoon, but get here by three." Karla usually came in around six.

Don showed up, intending fully to break it off with Kimsen, but she had wanted to discuss it upstairs rather than in the lobby. Once in the apartment, she'd taken his hand and led him to the bedroom, apparently for another session of her labia around his cock. Ever the risk taker, she led him into Karla's bedroom rather than her own. Don was lying on his back, enjoying the sensation of her undoing his belt and sliding his zipper down over his burgeoning penis. She slid his jeans off and pulled down his skivvies. She unbuttoned his shirt and raked her nails over his chest, kneeling coquettishly beside him.

"Are you still angry with me about yesterday?"

"Yes, I am. I know Eddie was here. I saw his car outside."

"Well, I don't want you to mess with Eddie, he's been in reform school and it would be nasty. But I am sorry, Donnie-poo, I bet I can take your mind off him."

"I don't see how."

Kimsen slid lower in the bed and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth, wetting it with saliva. "How's that, have you forgotten yet?"

"No, and I don't think it's going to work, it doesn't feel that good" he lied.

"Well, then I'll just have to try harder" she mumbled around him. She turned on that internal vacuum cleaner of hers and soon most of his cock was wet and sliding in and out of her hot, cloying mouth. Her hand was gently massaging his balls and he was starting to pump toward her.

"Am I forgiven yet?" she teased.

"Well almost. But if you keep that up, I think you're going to have to forgive me for giving your tonsils a hot cream bath."

"Oh, well, we can't do that can we? Let's try something different," she said, clicking off the light without releasing her hold of his cock. He felt her moving on the bed and then that wet sensation of her lips against his head, but this time skin was brushing past his thighs. She drew one of his hands up to her breasts and put the other one on her ass as she straddled him and began to thrust downward.

Don was going to protest, but his tongue was pulled into her mouth and his cock was being pulled into a long and equally hot and wet tunnel. You know what they say about the inevitable? Well, he tried to enjoy it, but it was over in about thirty seconds with Kimsen frantically screaming and pounding into him and reaching under his back to claw the skin away in red strips. Don had at last lost his virginity, but it wasn't the big deal he'd expected. Kimsen was just not right for him. It wasn't just that she wanted to push the risk envelope or even that she had no inhibitions whatsoever. It wasn't that she had at least two guys being strung along, maybe more. The real problem was that Kimsen was avaricious, practically predatory in her selection of partners. Don felt like the cheese in the mousetrap.

Don and she had done it a few times, after that first time with a condom. He'd flushed them down the commode, but one of the wrappers had somehow been missed amidst the detritus on her floor and Karla had found it. Thank God he'd been at home and had answered the phone when Karla called. She was brief and brutal. "You've been having sex with my daughter?" It was worded as a question, but the tension in her voice made it sound more like an ultimatum.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry but I love..."

"Forget it, motherfucker. She just got her period so she's not knocked up. I'm taking her to the doctor to make sure there's nothing else going on. And you, you little fuck, you're never going to speak to her again, are you?"

"No, Ma'am"

"You just pray I don't have to call you or that cocksucker, Eddie, back. You just better fucking pray hard, mister, you got it?"