Chapter 1 - August
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Teenagers, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, First, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Voyeurism, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - August - John Barnett, son of Billy and Lily from "Band Parents," is a freshman band geek. These are excerpts from his diary, recording his observations of life in a high school band and what he sees and understands of his parents' antics. John finds a girlfriend along the way, and some interesting things happen to him as the school year goes by.
Marching band practice started this week and I'm officially in High School. The first couple of days, they had the freshmen and the new people off as a group while they taught us to march. After that, the whole band was together, trying to learn the formations and the music. The band director, Mr. J. as we call him, is a perfectionist and he keeps going over and over parts that we aren't getting right. I'm dying out there. It's a hundred degrees and I've been hauling this mellophone (a marching version of the French Horn) around, trying to read my music with sweat in my eyes while trying to remember which way I'm supposed walking. I must be doing OK, though. Mr. J. only yelled at our section twice this week, and only called my name out once. The Euphoniums, though, seem dead set on screwing around.
I noticed something on Monday morning when we all reported for Band Camp. After my dad checked me in, he stayed and helped Mrs. Kowalski, the booster club president. That part isn't unusual in itself. My dad's a nice guy that runs his own business from home and he must have had the time to be helpful. He's just that way.
What caught my attention was that he was still there when we took our first water break – and our second. It was nearly lunchtime before Dad went home. I may only be 14, and I may not have had too much luck with the girls, but I know flirting when I see it. My dad and Mrs. K. were seriously flirting. It was like Ring Lardner wrote (hey, I'm a nerdy kid. I read a LOT.) "He gave her a look you could have poured on a waffle." She was looking at him like she'd enjoy being that waffle.
I'll have to watch that pair and see what happens.
It's the second week of band camp. Mr. J added one more element to the band – The Pit. The Pit is a sideline percussion ensemble with xylophones and tympani and a bunch of other percussion stuff I don't know the names for. The players in The Pit are either percussionists who didn't make the drum line or the kids who play double reed instruments. Apparently, nobody marches with oboes or bassoons. They had a lot of stuff to move on and off the practice field, so Mr. J. encouraged us all to pitch in. Most of the kids didn't, of course, and I wasn't really in the mood to move heavy equipment myself. I packed up my mellophone and started trudging back to the band room with it.
When I got to the bottom of the ramp that leads off the practice field, there was a girl about halfway up it trying to move a cart with two kettle drums [tympani] on it. The cart must have been heavy because she was really struggling with it. She pulled hard, then slipped and landed on her butt. She let go of the handle and the cart started to roll back down the ramp. I hollered at the kids below to get out of the way, tossed my horn case off to the side and tried to wrestle the cart to a stop. A couple of other kids helped me get it under control without it hitting anything or anyone.
I noticed that the girl was still sitting there where she'd slipped and that she was crying, so I went over to her.
"Are you OK?" I asked, putting a hand out to help her up.
"I guess so," she sniffed as she took my hand. I pulled her up.
"Come on," I said encouragingly. "I'll help you get the cart back to the band room."
After the two of us had tugged the tympani cart to the top of the ramp I said, "Let me get my horn," and went back to the bottom of the ramp. With my horn case in one hand and the handle to the cart in the other, the girl and I started the long slog back to the band room.
"Thanks for the help," she said as we walked along. "This thing is a lot heavier than my oboe."
"I think they're made out of cast iron," I commented.
"My name's Katie, by the way. Katie Schuman."
"I'm John Barnett," I told her. "Freshman mellophone extraordinaire."
"I'm a freshman, too." Katie commented. "Are you in the Concert Band?"
"First chair French Horn," I said. "There are six horns in the band and Mr. J. only wanted three for Wind Symphony. I was number four."
"I'm the only oboe in Concert Band. Elizabeth Watkins is the oboe for Wind Symphony," Katie told me. " One in each band, which is fine. You know the joke – the only way to get two oboists to play in tune with each other is to shoot one of them."
I laughed. Katie was nice and I liked her sense of humor. As we pulled the heavy cart back to the band room, I sneaked some looks at her. My guess is that she was about 5' 4" and I couldn't begin to guess a weight. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't skinny. She was curvy, with a nice set of boobs on her. Her hair was shoulder length and light brown and her eyes were pale green and ... looking right at me. Busted!
She giggled as I snapped my eyes forward. I blushed bright red, I'm sure.
Suddenly, someone was honking at us. I looked and saw Abby Kowalski in her little Mazda. She flipped us the bird. Apparently we were in her way. Katie and I just kept walking. The minute we were clear, Abby roared on past us.
"Who was that?" Katie asked.
"Abby Kowalski," I answered. "First chair flute in the Wind Symphony, Band President, first class snot."
"Band president. and showing her leadership by being the first one out of the parking lot," Katie smirked. "That should look good on the college resume."
We finally got the tympani back to the band room and stowed away. Other members of the pit were still behind us. I turned to Katie and asked again if she was OK.
"No lasting injuries. Fortunately, I'm well padded," she grinned as she turned her back to me and gave her hips a little wiggle. I was blushing as she turned to face me. "Thanks for your help."
"No problem," I said, trying to be suave and failing miserably. "See you tomorrow?"
I helped Katie pull the tympani cart out to the practice field before rehearsals. She's nice. We talked during water breaks, sat with each other at lunch and I helped her take the cart back to the band room after.
When I got home, I jerked off in the shower thinking about her nice round butt and her ample boobs. I tried to imagine her naked, and 'BOOM' I blasted a load into the shower wall.
I'm really starting to enjoy band.