Worth The Wait

Mmm. Warm apple pie. Warm apple pie with just a hint of vanilla, sort of like pie a la mode.

At perhaps the most magical moment of my life, that amazing smell was giving my senses —primarily my sense of touch — a good run for its money.

I was balls deep in Angela Talarico — the first time for both us — and while it wasn't the smoothest or the best either of us would have in our lives, it was still our first, and it was a sensory overload for me ... and yet, in the middle of it all, I could smell the combination of her perfume, hair spray and yes, sweat, and she smelled amazing. More than 40 years later, I can close my eyes and remember that smell.

I don't remember the actual fucking quite as well as the smell. I won't pretend it was lovemaking; it was two virgins trying to pretend it was lovemaking in the back seat of my mother's 1972 Ford LTD. It was prom night our senior year, and like many teenagers, we lost our virginities on this special night.

It was noteworthy, however, that Angela and I didn't go to the prom, or to any of the other weekend activities that everyone plans around the event. I walked up behind her in the line at the movie theater, and she smiled self-consciously. I returned her smile, and we both laughed. While almost every other senior at Commack South High School was at the prom, we two losers had both come unaccompanied to the movie theater on a beautiful May evening in 1974.

Angela and I had known each other since my family moved to town five years previously. Officially, I am Nicholas Trczynknarvski, and because both of our last names began with the letter "T," I very often sat right behind Angela in the several classes we had together through the years. In that time, we had gone from mere acquaintances to pretty good friends to... whatever the hell we were calling this. Regardless, she was my first, and I was hers.

They always say that the clerks at Ellis Island shortened a lot of immigrants' names when they came over to the United States because they couldn't spell them or understand them. If that's true, than I don't even want to know what my real last name is. I always felt that I should score a 100 on every spelling test I took just for spelling my name correctly. Maybe that's why to my family I'm Nikki, but to everybody else who's important in my life and even everyone who isn't, I'm just called "Trick."

Except to Angela: I have always been Nicholas, pronounced with all three syllables instead of slurred into two.

It was easy to tell Angela didn't think much of me for the first year my family lived in town. I was a small skinny seventh-grader with a lot of dark brown unruly hair. Depending upon who you talked to, I was either a quirky genius or a lazy bum, and probably both were true to some extent. I could get great grades if I wanted, but I rarely had the inclination. I was bored to tears most of the time at school, and my competitive fires were dulled when I found out how many kids were cheating to get good grades. Most days, I just showed up, kept my mouth shut and was one of the many anonymous kids.

Angela, on the other hand, was almost my polar opposite. She was incredibly smart — probably the smartest kid in our grade — and was as competitive as anybody I had ever met. She was relentless and wasn't going to let anybody hold her back. She barely tolerated when the lesser lights asked questions of the teachers, probably because she felt they were slowing down her education.

She also didn't have much tact at that time in her life, and was very direct when dealing with everybody. Along the way, somebody must have explained tact to her, and he or she at least got her to be tolerable. Nobody wondered why she didn't have too many friends.

Not only was Angela a force to be reckoned with in the classroom, she was a force to be reckoned with physically. She was 5-8 in seventh grade and towered over almost every other girl in our grade. She was also about 150 solid pounds, with early boobs and a fairly large back-end. Despite the oversized glasses she wore, I thought she was pretty, with dirty blonde shoulder-length hair, dark blue to hazel eyes and northern Italian pale white skin.

For comparison purposes, I went 4-11 and weighed 68 pounds. That might have had something to do with young womanhood not exactly knocking down my door.

I had two classes with Angela in seventh grade, and I bet she didn't say more than a dozen words to me the entire year. That was pretty typical of how the year went for me anyway, since I was the new kid in school and pretty much nobody talked to me.

My social life picked up a nick in eighth grade, but my relationship with Angela stayed consistently cool. Then in ninth grade she occasionally deigned to talk to me for a few words here and there. Either way was fine with me, because I had made a few good friends at this point and had a small social life, and as for dating, well... Angela didn't date anyone because I don't think there was a guy in our high school that had the inclination or the guts to ask her out. The rumors in the hallways were that she was gay, which in the 1970s was not a good thing.

Long Island was a mecca for Italian girls, and all I had eyes for in ninth grade was Jennifer Armoroli, a darker-skinned southern Italian who had the greatest legs to stride the earth and wore shorts skirts with nude pantyhose to show them off. To quote Bob Seger, "she was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes, and points all her own sitting way up high, way up firm and high."

My love was only from afar, because I never had the guts to ask her out.

Between my freshman and sophomore years, biology smiled upon me and I grew five inches over the summer to get to 5-7-1/2, and 116 pounds. It was like the whole world sprang anew for me, and girls that previously wouldn't give me the time of day suddenly realized I was alive. Yeah, I still had that mop of long unruly hair, but now I was actually taller than many of the girls who were previously looking down on me, literally.

Maybe it was because we were now seeing almost eye-to-eye, Angela seemed to be a lot friendlier to me. We actually had a few conversations of depth, and I started to see that she wasn't an automaton without feelings. In fact, she had quite a few feelings, and I got the sense that there was a real girl somewhere in there just waiting to break free. I went out of my to talk to her and with her. Of course she was still the driven Angela, but I got to see a part of her that I don't think many others saw. We even sat together at lunch a few times and talked. I learned that she wanted to be a cardiac surgeon, and was going to attend Cornell on the way to making that happen.

Me? I was going to be a taxi driver... no, just kidding. I wanted to be a sports journalist, and was headed to the University of Missouri. She told me she thought I could do more with my life, pointing out how well I did on the big state tests and stuff like that, where everybody was on equal footing. She noted that my scores weren't too much lower than hers, especially considering that I didn't waste any of my "precious time" studying. We had become such good friends that I took her snide comments to be her way of trying to push me harder. Somewhere along the line, she must have been successful, because I wound up at Marist College studying to be a translator. I was fluent in French by my junior year in high school and knew all six tenses, which is pretty good because most French people only know four. Italian wasn't much harder for me.

Although she didn't have a lot of friends, Angela was on a bunch of committees and in a bunch of activities throughout her high school years. When one of these groups had a special to-do, very often I was her "date." While we weren't an item, it did draw a lot of looks from our peers.

Angela had the very occasional date in high school. Not that I had a lot, but I had more than she did. For prom, senior year, I had asked out a girl I liked but had not yet dated, and she turned me down. I was disappointed, but not crushed. I had several of my friends try to persuade me to take another friend who really wanted the prom experience but had not been asked. My heart wasn't in it, however, so I told them that I wasn't going to go with just anybody. And that's how I wound up at the movie theater by myself on prom night. Apparently, loser is spelled "T-R-I-C-K."

Angela and I watched the movie together, and it was only 11 when it was over, so I asked if she wanted to get a beer with me. New York was an 18 state for alcohol at that time, and there was a bar in town that I had been a regular in since I hit that mark, and that's where I took her. I don't think she ever drank beer before judging by the look on her face at her first few sips, but she took it like a trooper and downed her half of the pitcher I bought. We were just talking like regular people, although I could tell she was getting a little buzzed as she started to giggle and trip over some of her words. We were sitting in the 1-2 spots at a four-person table, and somehow she seemed to be getting closer to me as we talked. I decided one pitcher was enough for the night since I was driving, and after paying the waitress we both got up to leave. We were practically standing on top of each other at that point, and I'm not quite sure what possessed me, but I leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. The kiss lasted maybe three or four seconds, but I could see she was flushed when we broke apart, although neither one of us stepped back. She then leaned in and initiated the next kiss, although this one was not soft. At that point, all my ability to reason left me.

The next thing I was aware of was moving my car to a dark spot at the back of the parking lot, and both of us getting in to the large comfortable back seat. Again, I'm not totally sure how we both got out of our clothes. We were kissing and fumbling with body parts, and I remember having my tongue deeply embedded in her mouth before she moved her head back and told me I needed to move my body up a little bit to enter her. I did as she bade, and slowly started entering. My dick found a little resistance, and that's when I realized she was a virgin, too.

"Special night for both of us, I guess," I said softly, and seeing the smile on her face, I went back to easing myself inside of her.

She was holding her breath a bit until I felt a sort of a pop come from her pussy, then she exhaled heartily and let out a moan. She started to move with me at that point, and everything was right with the world for the next five minutes. At that point I could feel this incredible, pleasurable pressure building up in my balls, and then my strokes became erratic as I started to ejaculate inside of her. She continued to make small moaning noises every time I thrust until I finally ran out of cum.

I was laying half on top, half to the side in the back seat, and both of us were breathing heavy when she suddenly started to giggle. I immediately got defensive, wondering if I had done something wrong, but she put a finger to my lips to quiet me.

"Do you know how many of our friends are going to be doing the same thing we just did tonight, but spent $200 or more for the privilege of doing it? We just spent, what, $12?"

I got the joke and joined her when she started laughing again.

We laid in the back seat playing kissy-face for another five minutes before we figured we should get dressed and drive back to the movie theater so she could get her father's car. We again talked about general things, with no declarations of undying love for each other. I think we both knew this was one of life's serendipitous moments, and we were smart enough to savor it.

I shut the engine off when I pulled up next to her father's car in the movie theater parking lot. Before she could open her car door, I pulled her to me in the seat, looked her directly in her eyes, and said, "Thank you for the gift of you. I will treasure it always."

I could tell I flummoxed her, and trust me, it wasn't easy to flummox Angela Talarico.

Her big eyes widened, but she didn't respond. We kissed gently, using our tongues, then she was out of the car, into her own vehicle and driving away.

I never told anyone about that night, and I'm guessing she didn't either. It seemed to me that our friendship didn't change one bit because of it. I thought about that night every day for the next few weeks. I knew I didn't love her. I knew she didn't love me. But something was there, and I had to see if I hit it with a spark would it turn into a flame.

The week before graduation, I asked her out on a date for the week after graduation. She turned me down, gently, but I was stung. I knew she could tell that she hurt me, because I'm pretty sure my mouth gaped open and I had tears in my eyes. At 18, most teenagers figure they know everything. I, on the other hand, apparently knew nothing. I was CRUSHED.

Of course Angela was the valedictorian of the class, and naturally had the valedictory address at graduation the next week. I didn't hear a word of it; nor a word of any of the other speeches and announcements. I sat next to the class clown, and Mike "Lips" Laskowitz kept up a running dialogue throughout the ceremony. It was all I could do to not laugh out loud several times, and I had a smile on my face the whole time.

The ceremony lasted more than an hour, and when it was over my mother asked me why I was the only one who seemed to be enjoying the entire ceremony. She knew Lips, and when I pointed out that he was seated next to me, she said she understood perfectly.

"Your father isn't nearly as funny as that kid is. God, those speeches were dry," she opined.

I worked in the local library and played softball with a group of seniors for the summer. We had a pretty good team and it was a pretty good group of guys. We'd often go out drinking after the games, most of which we won. Several of us were leaving for school in early August, so we set a final game for the whole team to be at, and arranged for a final party for both the guys on the team and our girlfriends and supporters. The game was in the late afternoon, with the party set for a friend's large backyard at around 8. We whipped a team from nearby Deer Park, 11-0, so we were all pretty stoked for the going-away party.

The party was going for about 10 minutes when I got there. I quickly grabbed a beer and made my way around the yard, grabbing snacks and saying hello to everyone. Laurie Jarnovstein, the girl who turned me down for prom, was there, and when I approached the small group of people she was with, she turned to me, smiled brightly and then planted a big kiss on my unsuspecting lips. I was shocked, and it took about three seconds before I finally started kissing her back. When we were done, I just looked at her and mouthed, "Wow!" She smiled back at me, and for the next hour she was practically glued to my side. I'll admit that I was more than a little hopeful of getting laid.

I had been friends with Laurie throughout high school, and I always wanted to be more, but didn't have the guts to ask her out until the prom. She never really gave me a reason for turning me down, but I found out from my friends who went that she didn't go either, so it wasn't like I got rejected for someone else.

Laurie had shoulder-length golden-blonde hair, bright blue eyes and was flat-out beautiful, in the opinion of many of the guys at Commack South. She had a decent body with average boobs, and on this night she was wearing short tight jean shorts with a light blue halter, braless. I spent the next hour with my arm around her, gently feeling her lightly tanned and toned abs, and gently rubbing her mostly bare back. She was smiling at me and gently moving with my touch as we were sitting with some friends at one of the picnic tables set up in the yard. Then from over my right shoulder came a definite voice of disapproval.

"Excuse me, Laurie, but you're sitting in my spot," Angela said as she looked down at Laurie and me.

Both of our heads came up the same time. Angela was looking imperious as she looked down at us through the bottom part of her glasses.

My mouth opened but no sound came out. Laurie stammered, saw the shocked expression on my face, quietly got up from the table and walked over to another group. Just as quietly, Angela moved into the spot just vacated by Laurie, and just as natural as anything placed my right arm around her. She then leaned over to me and gave me a casual peck on the lips, just as if we had been doing that all summer long.

"My spot and my lips," she said affirmatively.

I just nodded like a dummy. Conversation, which had come to an abrupt halt when Angela came up to the table, resumed as if nothing had happened.

"You owe me one," she whispered in my ear, "and I intend to collect later tonight."

I know I blushed three shades of red. I also pulled her tighter to my side, and she moved willingly.

The sight of Angela and I together had a lot of people glancing our way with surprised expressions on their faces. I was doing my best not to look surprised, too. Still, she felt so good plastered up against me, and we just seemed to be in sync several ways.

At the end of the night, several of the couples were making plans to do a little barhopping. When I looked at Angela, she was already halfway to my car, and beckoning me with the crook of her finger.

"Ahh... guess we've got other plans," I told my best friend, Danny, and his girlfriend. "Ahh... gotta go."

When I caught up to Angela, she stepped into me and laid what was probably the most passionate kiss I had ever received on my lips and then, inside my mouth with her tongue. We played tonsil hockey for about a minute, and I know my eyes were glazed over when she finally stepped back.

"Think you can find us a quiet spot to park?" she half-whispered to me as I could see back yard lights reflected in her dark eyes.

"Oh, yeah," I mumbled as I led her to my car and held the passenger side door open for her.

Five minutes later, I had us in a nice quiet spot, and we had both adjourned to the back seat. We were both naked and breathing hard 10 minutes later when I moved back, placed her legs over my shoulders and dove in to what was a soaking wet pussy. She had no idea what I was doing as I maneuvered her into position, but she shrieked like a banshee when I licked vertically up her slit. That was the answer to the $64,000 question for me, and I kept up a steady assault on her wonderful tasting pussy for the next 15 minutes as she alternated between shrieking and bucking through what I was pretty sure were orgasms. I had been doing quite a bit of reading up on the subject of orgasms since my first experience with Angela. I know that while she said she enjoyed the first experience, I didn't give her an orgasm, and I wanted to give my next partner a full experience. I just had no idea at the time that she'd also be my next experience, especially after she turned me down for a date.

After letting Angela catch her breath, I moved back up her body with my tongue and then sucked the wonderful nipples on her big boobs. She got really sensitive when I started licking her collarbones, and she finally took my face in her hands and whispered, "I need you now."

I can take a hint with the best of them, so I wasted no time placing my hard cock at the entrance to her vagina. I rubbed myself up and down her slit to get some of the lubrication I had created, then I slid myself inside of her. We moaned together as we kissed and made love in that LTD backseat like it was a bed for a royal couple.

Twenty minutes later, we were both coming down from our high. I thought she looked beautiful in the little bit of moonlight that was coming into the backseat.