Welcome the Girls From Pelham Bay
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Teenagers, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, School, Incest, Brother, Sister, Group Sex, White Male, Hispanic Female, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Petting, Safe Sex, Squirting, Voyeurism, Clergy, Small Breasts, Teacher/Student,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Trudi in her delicious tutu, my sister's pink panties, and now, 3 "bad girls" from Pelham Bay to accelerate my studies of female anatomy.

My sister was the talkative one in the family. I generally just listened and kept my mouth shut because I had a habit of putting my foot in my mouth and getting my ears boxed for being a wise guy. I remember the afternoon when Cathy came home from Catholic high school and announced to all of us that some girls with dubious moral characters had been transferred into our parish school from some God-awful place in the Bronx called “Pelham Bay”. I have to be real honest and admit I had never heard of the place before but I was still wet behind the ears and one could not set store in my lack of ignorance about such matters.

Our neighborhood was reputed to be one of the toughest Irish Catholic areas in New York City and had the unusual designation of “Hell’s Kitchen”. That title never failed to send shivers up my spine every time I heard it. We hardly ever talked about street names or avenues or boulevards around the city. When we talked about a destination, it was to places with names like “Jew-town”, “The Village” or “Little Italy”. We all knew the general direction of all those places but the unfamiliar “Pelham Bay” was a new one on me.

My sister was a pretty little thing.

Cathy was short. I mean real short. Sometimes it didn’t seem like she belonged in high school at all because her height was that of some girl that should still be in elementary school. I knew she was tough as nails and could scratch a girl’s eyes out as soon as look at her. She knew little tricks about kicking boys in their weak spots and bringing them down to the pavement so she could grab hold of their hair and bounce their skulls on the metal curb. Our parents didn’t suspect it, but she had a mouth on her that was worse than a longshoreman’s and she hid her foul smelling cigarettes inside her bra which was otherwise empty because she hadn’t really developed yet in that area.

I had recently graduated from high school and was working a job at the post office sorting mail sitting on a high stool and working mostly late at night to get the letters all ready for the carriers to hump them to the letter boxes early the next morning. I worked out of a place near Grand Central, but the letters were all addressed to odd names like “Hudson” or “Chelsea” or “Canal”. It was before the invention of zip codes or machines that did it by automation and only the human eye and hand was there to speed it on its way. I was glad that I didn’t work out in Queens or even out on “The Island” which was less like an island and more like the country up north of Yonkers way out in the sticks. My Uncle, the cop, had gotten me the job and all I had to do was show up on time and punch my card, sort the letters, and keep my mouth shut and my hands off the female employees because that was not allowed working for the government in those days.

Despite the fact I was a full two years older than my sister, I was still a despicable virgin and I was certain she had the edge on me because I had seen her trading her cigarettes for condoms from her best buddy Trudi. I knew for a fact that Trudi was all clued in on matters of sexual unions because my friend Ralph told me both he and that jerk Jimmy Gallagher had “done” her in the movie on a Saturday matinee morning when they had escaped the clutches of the chaperone that was supposed to herd all the juveniles together in a noisy section away from the horrors of the smoking section and the free hands in the back row. Trudi was good at finding ways to get what she wanted and in this case it was Ralph and Jimmy with their flies open and their arousal only inches away from her soft white skin on both sides. Ralph told me she just how to position her backside for one and then the other so they could get up inside her panties with the least amount of effort. She seemed to like getting it from the back and to sloppily kiss the other boy at the same time like it was only one boy taking care of her urges on both ends. I guess she was the kind of girl that had a need for lots of condoms after I heard what Ralph told me about her friendly attitude in the darkened theater.

It was shortly after my sister spilled the beans about the girls from Pelham Bay coming to her high school that I sat quietly listening to her and Trudi talking about the situation in school where they were told in no uncertain terms that they better watch their “P”s and “Q”s and make the three girls welcome and make them feel like they were part of the school just like all the other students. They discussed how the three girls were all of Irish descent and that only the tall one was pretty. I took their “pretty or not pretty” views with a grain of salt because when it came to such things, the last ones I would rely on would be females of the same age to give me a run-down.

I have to admit I was sporting a raging hard-on under my running shorts and I did my best to hide it from the two of them because I knew they would make fun of me and call me a “pervert” so loud that our parents would likely hear them. My sister was sitting Indian style in her short skirt and I could see her pretty pink undies like some sort of signal flag of nubile attraction. I tried my best not to think about my sister having female equipment just like the girls I fanaticized about all day, when I should have been listening to the teacher up at the blackboard.

Trudi was stretched out on her tummy wearing her leotards and tiny tutu that she wore for dancing practice three times a week. In the inviting horizontal position, it was easy to see her leotards all the way up to her slender ass cheeks spread wide in an exciting way that did nothing to ease my stiffness. She must have been doing some sort of special exercises to tone her ass muscles because her cheeks were doing a little dance of their own clenching and releasing with total disregard for decorum or common decency. I was certain she didn’t think about me watching her private parts dancing like Salome’s veil for me and making me want to spread her pretty cheeks and show her the level of my enthusiasm for stretching her even wider. I think it was then that my sister Cathy saw me ogling Trudi’s backside and spotted my outstanding rod standing at stiff attention. Her face got sort of red and she pretended she didn’t see anything and I said a little prayer that she would keep it to herself and not tell Trudi about what a bad fellow I really was.

Unfortunately, I saw her cup Trudi’s ear and whisper into it and I knew right away that she was spilling the beans about my disgraceful hard-on and my ogling Trudi’s pretty backside. I saw Trudi looked over her shoulder at me and then she glanced down at her almost naked ass cheeks and tried to pull her tutu down to cover some of the most curved parts. Of course, that was almost impossible and she just sat up the same way as my sister and held her hands over her private parts like she was defending her virtue against outlaws with evil intent.

I was glad that Ralph had filled me in on her secret lack of moral character and I didn’t feel as guilty as I would have felt if I didn’t have a clue about her sensual nature. In a way, I was glad it happened because they decided to pull me into the discussion about the three girls from Pelham Bay.

I knew the girls were taking little peeks at my hardness under my shorts but there was nothing I could do about it and I pretended that all was normal and I was oblivious to their feminine charms staring me right in the face.

“Bobby, you have no idea how tough these girls from Pelham Bay are.”

It was easy for me to pretend interest because it intrigued me to be discussing girls that had been suspended from their own school for bad behavior and loose morals. It made our girls seem like icons of virtue in comparison.

“Their silly names are Patsy, Aggie and Veronica. The only one with any boobs at all is Veronica and she has a face that would stop a clock.”

I smiled and hoped they didn’t suspect the nasty dirty thoughts running through my teenaged boy mind. I was speculating on the kind of undies the Pelham Bay girls wore and if they had boyfriends back in that weird sounding place up in the Bronx. I knew the Catholic schools up there were just as good as ours but we were starting to get a bad reputation because the neighborhood was changing with the sudden infusion of dark-skinned newcomers from Puerto Rico with their staccato Spanish that sounded like a machine-gun coming from the mouths of most of the females. I kind of secretly liked the little brown girls with their big red lips and the way they swung their hips promising nights filled with happy times and sweet female flesh. Of course, I couldn’t admit that to any of my friends because it would almost be like being a “Judas” to our Irish heritage.

It was kind of funny to hear them running down the transferred girls. I suspected the girls were probably a lot better looking than they were letting on because Cathy’s and Trudi’s green envy was sticking out like a sore thumb with every disparaging word.

Right then, Trudi hugged her knees up high and her leotards bunched up outlining her camel-toe like some commercial for Camel cigarettes. Both my parents smoked Camels but I didn’t think either of them had ever made the connection between the animal’s feet and a girl’s private parts in the dirty minds of teenaged boys. Anyway, I ogled and I ogled and eventually both Trudi and Cathy were fully aware my hard-on was getting worse just looking at Trudi’s business sitting only inches from my adoring face. They put their heads together and giggled and I knew they were planning to embarrass me in some way that would make me feel foolish. At that moment, I was so engrossed with my terrible thoughts about bending Trudi over the back of the sofa that I didn’t care what they had in store for me.

Trudi flipped over on her stomach again and I now had a bird’s eye view of her twin cheeks rising like the Promised Land with the thin leotard fabric stretched so tightly across her heart-shaped bottom that I swear I could actually see the white skin underneath. The gap for her delicious crack was spaced about an inch apart and I had this urge to reach out and push my inquisitive middle finger right on that spot to see if she would object or pretend I was still being totally a gentleman and with no dirty thoughts about navigating her rear channel of tight delights.

Since I was still a virgin, my errant finger was reluctant to risk the rejection I anticipated and I just accidently let the back of my hand rest casually on her hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. The heat of her female flesh was so overwhelming that my business started to leak big time and I suspected it was the beginning of the flood that was still churning around on stand-by in the eventuality I might actually need it if I got lucky with my tutu clad target.

My trouble-making sister took my guilty hand and moved it right on Trudi’s soft gap and they both giggled and pretended that I was some strange boy under their complete control. In a way, that was almost true because the three of us had a lot of fun right there and I discovered that Trudi was more than enthusiastic about my explorations all over her leotards with my sister watching my every move with increasing interest and complicity in matching us together for her visual enjoyment. At some point, I mounted Trudi’s soft hips from behind and allowed my business to press into her flesh so hard that my floodgates opened and I was certain I soaked not only my trousers but also her leotard and my sister’s hand as well.

I was relieved that they both found it amusing and I joined in their laughter hoping they might have some future game in mind that would rid me of my detestable and thoroughly unwanted status of virgin. In my teenaged boy’s mind, it was something that girls were reluctant to give up but boys considered it worse than the “Scarlet Letter” marked right on their foreheads for all the world to see and ridicule with mean-spirited delight.

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