Chapter 1

It was early on Tuesday, the 18th of May 1925. The small coastal town of Kingsport, Virginia was still waking up. The spring morning's cool, bright sun shone through the window of a white clapboard house on Bedlow Street. A pool of sunlight illuminated a young man lying on his bed. His fist was a blur of motion along the length of his cock. His body tensed, the tendons on his neck standing out like halyards.

His eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. In his mind, Kelly Parker knelt in front of him in her cheerleader uniform. Her red lips made a perfect ring over his throbbing manhood and her blonde ponytail bobbed back and forth as she swallowed his shaft over and over again. She removed his cock head from her mouth and licked its plum colored tip like an ice cream cone. "I can't wait for you to make me a woman," she said in his dream, her voice husky with pent up lust.

His thin hips jerked toward the ceiling and thick white cream spewed from his prick. Spent, he groaned and rolled onto his side, holding his cock so that his seed didn't drip onto the bedspread. He reached over to his nightstand for a tissue and wiped his cock clean, just like he did every morning. He normally relieved himself before school, something he was sure all 15-year-old males did.

"Bud. BUD!! Come down for breakfast or you'll be late for school."

Bud Lostridge wiped cum off his hand and pulled his trousers on. He was almost out of the room when he remembered the book he'd borrowed from his buddy, Thorny. Thorny called it a "blue book" and said that his dad had bought it at McPherson's Dime Store "behind the news counter." They'd spent a few afternoons in Bud's old treehouse, unselfconsciously pulling at their peckers while they studied the grainy pictures of plump women and skinny men in strange positions. Bud took a last look at the picture book and stuffed it into his desk drawer before running out of the room.

His mother stood at the foot of the stairs. Her green eyes sparkled, the way they always did when she was starting to get mad. Bud thundered down the stairs and she stepped aside, like a matador in the corrida. As usual, her auburn hair was perfectly arranged and the pleats of her dress razor sharp.

"Robert Jefferson Lostridge Junior, you're going to be late," she said as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She stuffed an apple into his hand as he ran out the front door.

"Rebecca," Harriet Lostridge shifted her attention to her 18-year-old daughter. "Stop primping and go to school."

"Mother," Rebecca whined. The 18-year-old adjusted the way the large letterman's sweater hung around her neck one final time. Her starched white blouse showed off her large breasts admirably.

"She's got my figure," Harriet thought, "All boobs and curves. Not like these flapper girls that are all the rage."

"Lance will be here soon. I won't be late," Rebecca said.

Before Harriet could respond, her husband trotted down the stairs. "Gotta run," he sang and stuffed his hat on to his head. Harriet slowed him down long enough to allow her to straighten his tie and give him a kiss on the cheek.