tagFirst TimeThe Sleepover

The Sleepover


Under the kitchen table, Claire's knee pressed up against my leg yet again. "Stop it," I whispered angrily and shifted away.

It was really annoying. I was trying to do our homework assignment, and it was getting late. Heaven knows that neither Claire, who was sitting to my right, nor Stephanie, who was around the corner of the table on my left, was going to contribute.

We were all 18 years old and going to a church-run College, but sometimes the girls acted like real children. Someone once told me that our conservative, religious upbringings made us naïve and uninformed about the ways of the world, but I preferred to think of us as uncorrupted. Although, I have to admit that there were some areas of life in which we were especially unindoctrinated, such as in ... sex. And sometimes, when we were confronted by these topics, we got giddy and childish. But on this night, I was convinced that the girls were just being a pain in the neck!

The knee returned. "Claire!" I snapped, "Stop it!" My display of annoyance caused both girls to giggle.

I have never gotten used to being in the company of these two beautiful school friends. Claire, with her high cheekbones, small sharp nose, lush shoulder-length black hair and tight little body, looked like Courtney Cox's little sister; while Stephanie, with her full lips, bouncy curly hair, ample breasts and exotic brown skin, looked like a really young Beyoncé Knowles. Sitting with them in Claire's family kitchen made me nervously distracted.

"What's wrong, Timmy?" Claire poked me in the side of the ribs with the end of her pencil. "Hmm?" Poke. "Hmm?" Poke.

"Don't!" I flinched away from her jabs.

Claire and Stephanie always chose me to be in their study groups because I was the class nerd. This meant that I would end up doing the assignments for them, resulting in high marks for all of us. But my efforts often came at the expense of considerable teasing ... and certainly not with any academic assistance from them. Actually, I preferred it that way, and I prayed that they would just gossip with each other for a while.

"Awww ... What's wrong?" Claire asked pityingly, moving her hand up under my arm. "Are you TICKLISH?!!" Suddenly, she gripped my side.

"Hey!" I cried and jerked my body away. "Stop it!"

"Shhh ...," Claire cautioned. "My mother will hear us."

Claire's mother was in the living room next door, probably reading the Bible or something. Claire, like the rest of us, had been brought up in an ultra-conservative, religiously fundamentalist family environment. A couple of years ago, her father had died, and since then, her mother had become less restrictive. She was in her mid-forties, had short hair and dressed prudishly ... or at least, she used to.

Some of the guys at school have said that Mrs. Wilmot is actually quite a fox, and I had to admit that she is pretty attractive, but I tried not to think about it. To me, she was just Claire's mother – which was a problem, because recently, she seemed to be touching me and kissing my cheek more than she had done in the past or than I thought was appropriate. ... No, she was just Claire's mother.

"Hey, Steph," Claire whispered across the table, "You know what I did after history class this morning?"

Excellent! Maybe they would talk to each other and leave me alone now. I returned my attention to the math proof in front of me and tried to recapture my train of thought.

"I'll give you one hint," Claire continued, "I was with Billy Turner." ... I could tell where this conversation was going – boys and relationships and holding hands and yuck.

"Oh my gawd," Stephanie giggled excitedly, "Tell me; tell me; tell me!"

"Well, he took me behind the bleachers," Claire explained with equal excitement, "And we ... kissed!"

My ears picked up. The three of us had had sheltered upbringings in this conservative community, what with overbearing parents and private religious schools and the like, so none of us had much experience with such promiscuous activities as kissing. And now that we were all 18 years old, we were mature enough to realize that kissing is something to be avoided until marriage ... because, of course, of the risk of pregnancy.

"No way!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"We kissed for FIVE minutes," Claire bragged, holding up five fingers to emphasize the accomplishment, "And you know what?" Claire paused for effect. "He put his tongue in my mouth."

"Ewww!" Stephanie observed. ... My thought exactly.

"No, it was exciting!"

"Really? What did you do?"

"I sucked on it a bit."

"Ewww!" Stephanie re-emphasized. ... Again, I had to agree.

Claire leaned across the table towards Stephanie and lowered her already quiet voice. "And you know what else ...?"

Both Claire and Stephanie were wearing white cotton blouses and plaid pleated skirts as required by our school, and when Claire leaned forward, her top spread open to display her cleavage in front of my face. Shocked, I wanted to look away, but I found myself mesmerized by the lace border of her bra that delicately supported her soft breasts and delineated the "shouldn't look at" from the "mustn't look at" areas of her bosom. I started to blush.

"He got a bulge in the front of his pants," she whispered.

"He what?" Stephanie asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Something was poking up down there, and he had to cover it with his books," Claire explained, "Then he had trouble walking away. He kinda limped ... you know."

"He got a boner," Stephanie explained.

"A what?" Claire asked.

"An erection," I interjected ... which was a mistake. I shouldn't have gotten involved in th conversation.

Claire sat back in her seat and looked at me. "What's that?"

Oh, jeez. Now what was I going to do? I didn't want to talk about this. "It's ... well ... It's ... uhh ..." I was getting choked up. In fact, something was beginning to happen in my pants. "Well, it's when a guy gets ... you know ... nervous or excited and stuff, and it ... he ... it gets bigger."

"What gets bigger?" Claire continued to seek an explanation.

"His wiener," Stephanie helped me out, grinning at my obvious embarrassment.

"Really?!!" Claire expressed her amazement. "Guys' thingees get big and hard like that?"

"Yeah," Stephanie went on, "I saw it happen to my brother once. He was on his bed playing with his wiener, and it got all hard and red."

"So what did he do?" Claire pursued the subject.

"Well, he started rubbing it faster, but when he saw me, he slammed the door in my face," Stephanie added, "I think that, when a guy's thing gets hard, it hurts, so he has to rub it to make it feel better." ... We really shouldn't be talking about this. I was getting pretty uncomfortable.

Claire looked thoughtful, as she processed this new information, and then she looked at me. "Do you ever get a boner, Timmy?" Claire asked, leaning in.

"Well, sure, someti...," I started to answer and then noticed the closeness of Claire's face to mine, which made me look away and blush, "Ummm ... sometimes I guess." Little did they know that I was getting one as we talked.


"I don't know. I guess when I think about girls or something."

"When you play with your wiener, does it get hard?"

"I guess ... I mean no ... I mean you're not supposed to play with it."

"Timmy ... show us yours. I wanna see it get hard," Claire ordered. ... She didn't just say that, did she?

"No, Claire," Stephanie pre-empted us, "Your mom might come in."

"Oh, yeah," Claire thought, "Well then, let's go into the washroom and pull his pants down. We can watch him play with it and see if it gets hard." ... Oh my gawd!! What was I getting into? Unfortunately, my penis was at a downward angle in my pants, and as it got firmer, it pushed harder and harder against an immovable wall of fabric ... and it was beginning to hurt. I tried to shift around to free it, but Claire was pressing in close to me.

"Won't your mother suspect something if we all disappear?" Stephanie warned.

"Maybe ... hmmm ...," Claire contemplated and then finally suggested, "Well, we have no choice. Let's just undo his pants under the table and pull it out quickly. Here ..."

"What?!!" I gasped and scrambled to fend off Claire's probing hands. Then, I swung around to stop Stephanie's attack from the other side, and then I had to defend against both of them at once. It became a real mêlée. I kept pushing their hands away, but they kept reaching in.

"Come on, Timmy," Claire pleaded while flailing frantically to gain access, "We just want a quick peek."

Our hands were urgently grasping and slapping and twisting. Twice, I pulled a hand off my zipper tab, and at some point in the struggle, the end of my belt got pulled through a loop.

"Claire ... hold his hands!" Stephanie called for support, "I almost had it that time!"

It was getting to be too much for me. I was about to give up when, from the next room, Claire's mother shrieked, "Oh my goodness! Have you noticed it outside?" ... I was saved, and the struggle quelled.

"I'm sorry, Mom?" Claire called back. She looked side-long at me as if to say that my reprieve was only temporary, but she settled back into her seat nonetheless.

Mrs. Wilmot entered the kitchen. "The weather," she explained, "I wasn't paying attention, but it's snowing like crazy out there." She sounded a bit worried. "Stephanie, I'm going to phone your mom and let her know that you'll be staying here tonight. It's not safe to be outside when it's this bad," she declared. "You too, Timothy," she said, placing a hand on the back of my neck and massaging it a bit. ... Arghh. She was touching me again. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

While Mrs. Wilmot made her calls, Claire and Stephanie looked at each other with sly grins ... probably because they thought school would be cancelled tomorrow. I was happy because this was going to give me more time to work on our assignment ... as long as my study partners behaved themselves. I worried for a minute that they might try teasing me again later in the night but convinced myself that they had gotten it out of their systems.

*** The Good-Night Kiss ***

"Do you have anything I can wear for bed?" Stephanie asked Claire.

Claire's face lit up. "Yeah," she replied a little excitedly, "I have some new stuff that you haven't seen yet. You can try it on." Then turning to me, she leered and asked suggestively, "Do you want to borrow anything, Timmy?"

I turned bright red. "No ...," I replied meekly.

"Well, both your mothers know you're staying," Mrs. Wilmot announced as she hung up the phone and re-joined us.

"Mom?" Claire asked, "Timmy said that he wants to stay in our room tonight. Can I go get the sleeping bag?"

I whipped my head around at Claire. What the heck was she talking about? I was being set up! Then I looked back sheepishly at her mother, who was glowering down at me. I wanted to protest, but it seemed to be too late.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea, Timothy," she said deprecatingly and with a little nervous tension in her voice.

"I do," Claire protested. "We still have work to do, and we can talk about it in our room tonight."

"No, Claire. It wouldn't be appropriate."


"Because boys and girls shouldn't sleep in the same room before they're married."

"But why?"

"Because things could happen."

"What things?"

"Well, things that boys and girls shouldn't do unless they're married. ... Things that ... Well, things that aren't going to happen tonight because Timothy is not sleeping in your room. Now, why don't you and Stephanie run along and get ready for bed, while Timothy helps me make up the guest room. ... Let's go. Chop, chop."

"O-kay," Claire said with a little pout, but then she grabbed Stephanie by the hand, and the two of them hurried off to Claire's bedroom to try on clothes and get changed.

Mrs. Wilmot smoothed the hair on the back of my head and beckoned me to follow her. ... She was touching me again! Luckily, my erection had subsided enough for me to stand, although I got up slowly just to be safe.

As we made our way to the guest room, I could hear giggling coming through Claire's closed door, directly across the hall. Mrs. Wilmot and I entered the guest room, and she shut the door behind us. She turned down the bed, assuring herself that there were clean sheets there already, and then faced me. "I'm sorry that I don't have anything for you to put on," she said, "Do you mind sleeping in your underwear, Tim?"

"No, Mrs. Wilmot," I replied, "I'll be okay." Actually, I thought that it was going to feel weird. I usually wore pyjamas to bed at night, and all I had on for underwear were my boxers. That meant that I would have nothing on my top or my legs in bed. That seemed a little risqué to me; I'd be nearly naked! I made a mental note to keep the covers tucked up under my chin when I went to sleep.

"All right, then," she said, "I'm going to go get changed, and I'll be back to tuck you in." She then left and closed the door behind her.

I started unbuttoning my shirt. I thought about asking her if I could stay up and do some more work, but she seemed pretty focused on getting everyone to bed, so I decided not to rock the boat. I needed the break from the teasing of the terrible twosome anyways. They had really gotten carried away in the kitchen – bolder than they had ever been before. So maybe it would be good to let everything cool down overnight.

I folded my shirt, placed it carefully on the top of the dresser and started undoing my pants. Suddenly, there was a light scratching at my door, like the sound of a cat trying to get in. "T-i-i-i-m-m-m-e-e-e-e ...," came a soft, haunting call from the other side. I froze. Scratch, scratch, scratch. "T-i-i-i-m-m-m-e-e-e-e ...," the phantom voice beckoned again.

"Claire? Is that you?" I huffed in a stern whisper, "Stop it!"

"T-i-i-i-m-m-m-e-e-e-e ...," the mock ghoulish voice called again, "We w-a-a-n-n-t to c-o-o-m-m-e i-i-n-n-n ..." Scratch, scratch, scratch.

My pants were around my ankles, and I was afraid that the girls would burst in and see me. "Claire! Stop fooling around! I'm trying to get changed."

Scratch, scratch, scratch, ... "We're un-der-wear ghoooosts, and we wa-a-a-ant to possesssss your un-der-paaaants. Woooo-oooo-ooo ..." Unfortunately for Claire's stunt, Stephanie couldn't maintain her composure and started snorting through the top of her nose, which caused them both to start giggling. Suddenly, the noise of a doorknob turning down the hall prompted the girls to skitter and trip back into their room, and with the soft click of their door closing, silence returned to the hallway.

Jeez!! That meant that Claire's mother was on her way back, and I was standing in the middle of the room almost completely undressed. I hurriedly removed my pants and sox, and threw them carelessly on top of my shirt. Then I launched myself across the room, dived under the covers and pulled the sheets up under my chin ... just as my door opened.

Claire's mom entered. She was wearing a long white fleece bed shirt with a long zipper in the front. The zipper was discreetly closed almost to her neck. At first, I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something out of place about how she looked, and then I noticed that she seemed to have put on some make-up, and her hair was looser or something. Yes, she definitely had put on some lipstick.

When she walked over to my bed, I couldn't help but watch her breasts wobble under her shirt. I hadn't noticed before but they were fairly big, and at their ends, two nubs were making sizable bumps under the fleece.

She sat down on the edge of my bed, and I suddenly felt very nervous inside. Something was twinging in my lower abdomen, and my erection was returning. She wasn't going to touch me again, was she? I kept telling myself that it was just Claire's mom, but she looked ... different.

Mrs. Wilmot leaned across my body and looked down at me. I could have sworn that I smelled perfume. Then, across the hall, Claire's door opened by a crack.

"Mom?" Claire called out from her room.

"Yes, dear," her mother replied.

"Can Steph and I come say good-night to Timmy?"

Mrs. Wilmot stared down at me. There was something weird about her look. Her eyes sparkled or something, and her face was intense. She also seemed to be breathing more deeply than normal ... but then I realized that I was staring at her breasts moving in and out, and so I turned my head away.

Mrs. Wilmot stood up and walked to the door. "Okay, but don't be too long," she indulged them. "I'm going to go get him a glass of water, and I want you two in bed when I return." With that, she made her way down the hall towards the kitchen.

Claire's door opened, and the pair of trouble-makers scampered into my room. ... And when I saw what they were wearing, I was shocked. Claire approached my bed first, wearing a shimmering little pink thing that looked like a slip, but it barely went below her naughty area. In fact, when she walked, it rode up and down on her body, and I could see that her panties were only a little pink triangle of fabric that barely covered her no-no. The top's thin straps looked barely able to hold it up, and its soft cups were fully filled out by her breasts. Around her neck, she wore a lace choker, and all around the edges of the slip, there was lace as well. Altogether, it looked like something a little girl half her age would wear to bed, and I almost expected her to pull a teddy bear out from behind her back.

Just before Claire sat down on the edge of the bed, I noticed that her nipples were poking up under the light material. I was really feeling uncomfortable now. My stomach was turning, and my penis was getting really hard. I shouldn't be looking at the things that I was seeing, so I turned my head ... towards Stephanie.

Stephanie had on what looked to be a set of boy's underwear – white underpants and a white sleeveless undershirt – but they were both very, very small. The undershirt stopped above her bellybutton, and the underpants wrapped around her hips like a small elastic bandage, which clung snugly to every nook and curve of her lower area. The thin white cotton material on Stephanie's dark skin seemed almost transparent, and when I looked up at her plump jiggly breasts, I was shocked to see two large, round, dark patches where I knew her nipples were located. I jerked my head down to not stare at them but ended up looking at her naughty area, where the stretchy material revealed that she had a couple of swollen bumps between her legs. They sort of looked like a pair of fat lips on their side.

I spun my head around to stare directly at the ceiling. I had to stop looking at bad things. ... But then, Claire leaned over me, and her face came into view. She had this really weird grin that looked kind of evil. Oh why wasn't her mother back yet?!!

I strained to hear where Mrs. Wilmot was, and in the distance, I heard her talking to someone. Who in the world could she be talking to? ... Yikes! She was on the phone! How long was she going to be?!!

"Timmy?" Claire began. "Steph and I just want to say good-night to you. Why are you acting so shy?"

I squirmed and whimpered. Claire's face continued to hover over me.

"I thought you might want a kiss good-night," Claire said sweetly. "Steph? Don't you think we should give Timmy a kiss good-night?"

Stephanie had positioned herself by the open door and was staring worriedly down the hallway. "Claire! Your mother will be back any second."

"Well, I think that she would want us to kiss Timmy good-night," Claire said and then leaned towards my face. I closed my eyes, and then a soft pair of lips pressed lightly onto mine. My head was swimming. The lips pressed on again, but this time, they opened a bit and dragged across the top of my lips. The friction tingled. And then they did it again. ... Oh gawd! This was sinful. She was going to get struck by lightening, and I was going to get pregnant! ... or ... er ... the other way around ...

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