Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, mt/Fa, Teenagers, Tear Jerker, Revenge, First, Petting, Size, Slow,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Having had an accident at birth that leaves him with mental and physical challenges, a young man copes with a world where some people are kind but more people try to take advantage of him.
The editor referred to in the story is 'Chris's editor', a character in the story, not the editor of Harry Carton's story.
[From Chris's editor and wife: This account was dictated by Chris using the voice recognition software on his PC. He wanted to tell his story, and I have made very few changes, except where the software made mistakes.]
Let me say at the start that this never would have gotten written without my wife. She cried a lot while reading it, and I don't understand that. It's just about me and what happened to me, so I don't see any reason to cry about it.
My name is James Christopher Harcourt. Only my Mom and Dad called me James – everybody else called me Chris. They were James and Carolyn. I'll explain why I said 'were' later on. I guess there were too many James in pre-school, which is where people started calling me Chris.
This story has a happy ending, where I'm 23 and have had a kid and a wife. It didn't always seem that my life would have a happy ending, because I had a brain injury when I was born. My cord was wrapped around my neck and I didn't get enough air for too long a time, so I had kind of a stroke when I was born.
They said I have a 'learning disability.' That is a pile of do-do. I just don't learn the same way that everybody else does. (I don't curse or use bad words either, but I don't think that's a disability.) It is very hard for me to read; if it wasn't for language software, I couldn't have put this manuscript together. Even with that, if it wasn't for my wife it wouldn't make sense – like I didn't say 'manuscript, ' I said 'thing'. They thought I was dyslexic for the longest time, but that wasn't it. I could see the letters okay, in the right sequence; they just didn't make any sense. Somebody finally said that it was like a regular person looking at Chinese. No matter how long you looked at it, you didn't understand it.
I can't do math hardly at all. I mean, I can add and subtract and multiply, but fractions don't make any sense to me, and I can't understand division where it doesn't come out even. Like 12 divided by 6 is okay, but 14 divided by 6 is not.
I learn by hearing things, and if you can show me a picture or a diagram of something, I know almost right away what the diagram is about ... so long as the diagram doesn't depend on written words. Even better is if I can see the 'thing' in question; I can usually figure it out, if I can see it.
I also have a physical disability where my left hand, arm and left leg don't exactly work right. I couldn't crawl when I was a baby, and it took me until I was six years old to learn to walk more or less in a straight line. I was in physical therapy until I was seventeen years old. I mean, I could use my left hand and arm, but it was like, jerky, you know? Uncoordinated. But I did learn to run and jump and do all sorts of stuff, but not play basketball or baseball, because you need to use both hands to do that. The TaeKwonDo I learned is, well my Sensei calls it effective but non-standard.
So guess what? I'm right-handed.
I always was the biggest kid in my class, even though I didn't walk in kindergarten. I went around in a wheelchair, and everybody was really surprised when I walked into first grade. They called me Baby Huey, like the big duck in the cartoons, or whatever he was.
I guess they called me that because I was in Special Ed., too. Mrs. Atcheson was my Special Ed. teacher from kindergarten to grade five. She was great. She figured out my reading problem. She managed to get me to read pictures – kind of like the ancient Egyptians used, I guess. And then she would get the pictures lined up with a word. So I could understand that word. Kind of. Like I could understand a picture of a cat. And I'd learn what 'cat' meant. But all three of these words were different to me:
'cat' 'cat' 'cat'
'cause I look at a word and see a pattern, not the letters. So if it looks different (like because the font changed) then it is different. It's a problem.
Also I didn't get the meaning of the little connective words, you can't make a picture of. Like, 'of', 'the', 'and' and so on. So I wasn't really reading. It's like learning a language when you can only hear it, but not ever see it in writing.
They tested my IQ when I was in fifth grade and it came out with 95. Actually, they tested it three times: the first two were 84 and 90. So I used the higher score. But that's just a number people use to put you in a category. I don't believe in categories for people. I didn't do any of the reading questions on the IQ tests, and my math was a joke, so I don't know what they were measuring. I understood when the psychologist was saying the questions out loud, I pretty much could answer him.
I guess I was doing pretty good in elementary school. I'd go to school, go to therapy, and do homework. Then on the weekends, I would try to go out to the playground and have some friends and do stuff with them.
Only problem was, I didn't have any friends, and naturally, I didn't do anything with the friends I didn't have. Because of all my difficulties, I was shy. And the hostile other kids made me even more shy. Then they'd start with the Baby Huey stuff and pretty soon, I didn't want to even try any more.
Except for Lucy. Lucinda, actually. Lucinda Belevere. I called her Lu. She liked to say she was "from the Fox Avenue Beleveres" like that was a big thing. She lived across the street and we all lived on Fox Avenue. But she saw some old movie with somebody named Belevere, and they were "from the Rhode Island Beleveres." She started saying that when she was twelve, and she said it all through high school. I think it was mostly a joke when she got older, but I'm not sure. I sometimes don't get the jokes that other people get. Lucy is three years and six months older than me.
Anyway, Lucy was the only one who would stick up for me. She never called me Baby Huey and would get in the face of anybody who called me that. She was pretty short. Of course, she was short compared to me; I was about the same size as kids who were three and four years older than me. But she was short compared to kids my age, which was three years younger than she was. She was fearless though, and she'd go up to anybody who was calling me Baby Huey or something and tell them to "knock it off." And one time a guy started to push her away, and I got in his face and told him to "knock it off." He did. And Lucy put her arm around mine and we walked together back home.
Did I mention that when Lucy was about twelve, she started to get bigger up top [From the editor: he means her breasts]. And her hips got broader. I was about nine and even I noticed. She started to look like a miniature version of her mother. Except that she wore very short skirts. She was in seventh grade by then and she got to be a JV Cheerleader.
All I knew was that she got interested in boys, got to be a cheerleader, and had practically no more time for me.
That was about when some other girls started to talk to me in school. They were the prettiest girls in school. I didn't understand at all: why were all these girls interested in talking to me? They'd come up to me, touch me on the arm or straighten out the collar on my shirt or something. I'd get all tongue-tied, of course. I didn't know how to talk to anybody, let alone a pretty girl. They'd ask me something, and before I could put together an answer, they'd ask me something else, and then something else. And then they'd say, "Bye." Then they'd skip back to their girl friends – and sometimes there was a boy there too – and she'd say something and then everybody would laugh.
I mean, I could understand that I knew that they were laughing at me. But what could I do? I didn't understand what was so funny, or why they were doing it.
So I stayed home instead of pretending I was going to have fun at the playground. I watched a lot of TV, especially Professional Wrestling. Everybody (like my parents) said that it was fake, but it looked real to me. Especially when they had a big cage match. I saw some guys who were bleeding. You can't fake bleeding, right? And the girls – the wrestling show said they were 'divas' – were wearing these long, tight costumes which showed off their tops and curvy figures. Kind of like Lucy, but only they were taller.
My Mom and Dad were great. She took me around to all my therapy and horseback riding (that was therapy, too) and swim lessons (therapy, too). And reading lessons, too, until they finally figured out that I'd never read like other kids. Dad understood my problems. He understood that I'd get it, but I wouldn't get it from reading about it. He was always bringing in some CD from the library: history, and great books, and science, and just about everything. He even started to go to the college library to get more and more CDs.
So my Mom supported me and loved me, and Dad understood what my problems were and loved me. I think I had a pretty good life.
It took them a long time to figure out that I wanted things to be like I wanted them to be. Like, I'd have three sharpened pencils and one pen in my pencil case when I went to school. I don't know why, I just did. I always put them pencil-pencil-pen-pencil in the pencil case, and then put the pencil case on top of my books so that it wouldn't fall over.
Same with my food. I liked to eat all of one thing then another, then another. Like, all the hamburger, then the broccoli and then the potatoes. I didn't want to start with a drink, but when I got thirsty, but I'd go and get it from the fridge in the middle of the meal. Naturally, I didn't like anything that would need two hands to eat. Like steak. You had to cut that with a knife and fork and I couldn't do that. Eventually, I got a rocker knife that you could use with one hand and cut things up. When I got one, I got to like eating other stuff.
Other things, too, like: Mom and Dad kept telling me that it didn't matter what sequence you did stuff or had stuff. So if it didn't matter, what was wrong with the way I did it?
Anyway, things were okay, I guess. Then I got to sixth grade. It was in a different school. Everything was different, and that made me very uncomfortable. Mrs. Atcheson wasn't my Special Ed. teacher any more. She stayed in the elementary school. Now I was in the middle school. I kept getting promoted to the next grade, because I could pass the tests if somebody would read me the questions out loud. Well, I never passed the math tests, no matter what.
I was about the biggest kid in the school, when I was in sixth grade. The school was for sixth to eighth grades. I was 12, almost 5'10" and very husky. My Dad said I should start lifting weights, because otherwise I wouldn't have any fitness and I'd have all flab. I didn't want to be fat. So I was lifting weights and was pretty strong.
Suddenly, sometime in the next year – or it seemed sudden to me, anyway – a whole bunch of the JV Cheerleaders started to ask me to walk them home or spend time with them. Even some of the high school Cheerleaders from ninth grade started to do that too. The High School was on the same campus as the Middle School. Sometimes the cheerleaders would ask me into their house, and then they'd turn on the TV or gab with some girlfriend on the phone, or both, and I'd just sit there. And after a while they'd say it was time for me to go home, and thanks for walking them home. I could only do it when I didn't have therapy, so that was like three days a week.
I mean, I liked it and all. They were girls, and good looking girls on top of that. What was there to not like? After a bit, I got to taking a CD and a CD player over when I'd walk a girl home. Then I'd listen to the CD. At first the girl would want to see what it was, but I was always listening to 'The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People' or 'How to Use Meditation to Make Your Life Better' and stuff like that. I didn't really like rock and roll music. I did like Bach and Mozart though. I couldn't do math, but I liked the precision of the music and how it was organized.
One time I was listening to 'The Magic Flute' which is an opera by Mozart, and Cindy – she was one of the high schoolers who wanted me to walk her home – just said "Yuck!" and didn't want to listen to it. It was even the 'Queen of the Night' aria – how could anybody not like that? Anyway, Cindy didn't and she went back to watching 'Two and a Half Men' reruns – I think that was the name – and I went back to listening to Mozart on my ear buds. And in about an hour, just when I was about to change CDs, Cindy said it was time to go, and so I went home.
My Mom grilled me pretty good on what was going on during these trips. I knew about sex and kissing and stuff, and I told her that none of that stuff was going on. She told me to be very careful. I got the feeling that she didn't like it at all, but she wasn't going to stop me from doing it.
Then three of the girls – Cindy, Stephanie, and Morrisette – all invited me to the Valentine's Day dance. I was going to meet them at the dance. Mom and Dad thought that was really strange, and Dad even called up the Dad's of the three girls to find out what was going on. He never told me what they said, but I overheard him tell Mom that the girls were just being nice and wanted to include me.
It wasn't exactly like that. I got a suit and a flower for my button hole, and bought a ticket to the dance. When I got there and went inside, all three girls were there with their dates. They all said hello, and we go to sit at the same table, but the girls all danced with some other guys all night, except when I got to take a picture with each of them. I saw Lucy there too; she was dancing with some tall guy who was on the tennis team, I think. It wasn't so nice when the guys – the girls' dates and some other guys – got together while we were taking the pictures and they were all laughing. I suppose they might have been told a joke or something, but I didn't think so.
When Mom picked me up after the dance, I told her it was okay. I just didn't understand what I was doing there? I was quiet all the way home, and I cried when I got back to my room. Was I so different that they had to invite me when I wasn't really supposed to be there? I was angry: at the stupid doctor who didn't get my cord from around my neck, at the stupid girls who invited me, at all those girls who didn't want me at their house but had me walk them home, at the boys who laughed at me. "There's poor Baby Huey. He doesn't understand that he's a freak. He got invited so he could say he went. That's all." I was humiliated.
The next week was when Lucy started to ask me to walk her home. She said she needed help carrying her books every day. Some days it was only one book, but I carried it anyway. So I started walking her home – which was right across the street from my home. When I didn't have therapy, she had me come into her house; her mother was always home and we had a nice snack or something.
Lucy actually talked to me: she explained that some of the girls tried to be nice, but they got it wrong. Lucy said she knew that I was in Special Ed. only because I couldn't read, not because I was a dummy. She said it with a smile, so I knew she was kidding. That's another thing I couldn't do well – read people's expressions to know when they were happy or sad or angry or anything.
That Spring I went through another growth spurt. I shot up to 6'1" in about a month. None of my pants fit anymore, and by the time school was over, you could see my white socks under the ends of my pants. You could even see my legs sometimes. That was the last growth spurt I was gonna have until I was like 18, when I grew to my final size of 6'4".
So there I was, age 13, in sixth grade and taller than most High Schoolers. That summer, Morrisette invited me to some parties at her house. Morrisette came up to my chin when she didn't have her hair all poofed up. Sometimes she had hair the color of straw, and sometimes she had almost red hair, and sometimes it was a dark brown. I guess she could change it, somehow. It changed about every month. She was real curvy, like the divas on the professional wrestling, and walked with a real wiggle in her behind.
She was going to be a Sophomore next year, and my mom didn't think that it was right for me to be going to parties with someone so much older than me. She kept warning me not to fool around with any girls. I promised I wouldn't.
But it seemed like Morrisette wanted to fool around with me. I couldn't really tell, because she'd dance with me, real close like, and when I got a boner she'd rub against it, but then back away. I guess I had grown up when I went through that growth spurt, 'cause I had hair down there and everything. Dad had said that I was becoming a man.
One day, I was over at a party Morrisette's house. There were about seven other people there: three girls and four boys.
Jerry and Alicia were boyfriend/girlfriend. Alicia called him 'Jerome' and he called her 'BoomBoom.' She was real big on top and had a behind that was kinda big too. Jerry was always patting it, like it was a dog or something. Jerry was almost as big as me, but he was going to be a Junior in High School this year. They were both black – well, he was more a brown color than black. She was black as coal.
Mark and Sherry were together, Morrisette said. They weren't a couple, but that would be happening soon, cause Sherry was going to do it with Mark, Morrisette said.
Pat and Patty were just there, together, but not officially dating. I didn't know what that meant, but Morrisette said not to worry about it.
All those guys were on the football team. Except Pat was a forward on the basketball team; Mark was a linebacker and Jerry was a wide out. All the girls, including Morrisette, were going to be on the cheerleading squad next year, but Alicia didn't know if she could take it. "Too much bouncing around," she said, and all of them laughed. I laughed, too, but I didn't get it.
Todd was the only one who didn't have a girlfriend, it looked like. Morisette said he was going to leave later on, and that I shouldn't worry about it. He was the starting quarterback on the football team.
Anyway, she was slow-dancing with me and rubbing against me, and she asked me how big it was. And I said what 'it' did she mean. Then she put her hand on my penis and said "Your lady pleaser. That's what it's for, you know."
"Oh. I just call it a penis ... I don't know how big it is. I never measured," I said.
She just smiled and took me by the hand, and led me to her room. When we got there, she shut the door and went to her desk and got out a ruler. She sat on her bed and pulled me over to stand in front of her. She opened my zipper and got my lady pleaser out from my boxers.
I told her that I didn't think this was right, 'cause I was thinking about what my mother said.
She said, "We're just going to measure it." Then she started rubbing on my penis, 'cause she said you can't tell the size 'til it's hard. That felt real good, and I stopped thinking about my mother completely. All I thought of was Morrisette making me hard.
Morrisette put her other hand under my balls like she was seeing how heavy they were. I didn't know if she was going to weigh them, so she could see how long my penis was and then how much my balls weighed.
"This is nice, Chris. Real nice. They're real heavy," she said in a quiet voice. I got harder and bigger, like when I did it for myself. Then she placed the ruler on top of my penis, and pushed it against my belly a bit. "Wow," she said. "You've got a real whopper, Chris baby. It's eight and a half inches. I bet you've got the biggest cock in the school."
I thought her handling my penis and my balls felt real good. She curled her hand around it, but her thumb didn't meet her fingers. Then she started stroking it with both hands. I guess she had really small hands, cause they both fit, leaving just the head of my penis sticking out. She pulled back with her hands, and the skin that covered the head got pulled back. It was so tight that it almost hurt. But when she bent forward and took the end of my penis into her mouth, Holy Crap! That felt so good I had to shut my eyes.
On the internet, I'd seen guys getting a blow job, but I'd never got one myself. I didn't even move, like those guys on the internet did, 'cause it felt so awesome to me. I didn't grab Morrisette's face either like they did with their girls. I just stood there and then my knees buckled and I almost fell down. Then I spurted into her mouth. She gagged and pulled back and then I kept spurting and it went all over her face.
"Chris!" she put her hand over the end of my penis, so it wouldn't splash her any more. "You should have told me. This is a real mess."
I could have told her, I guess. But I wasn't exactly thinking very much about telling anybody about anything. I was only thinking of spurting.
She jumped up and ran to the closet in the hallway. She came back and threw a towel at me, and began wiping her face with another towel. "Clean it up!" She seemed angry at me for some reason. I couldn't figure it out. She was the one who said we were just going to measure it. I never did figure out why the length was so important.
It was about as long as the distance from the tip of my thumb to the other side of my palm, not counting the pinky finger. So I guess that was about eight and a half inches, too. I looked down at my penis and then wrapped my hand around the shaft, just under the head. My thumb touched my palm easily, with some to spare, so I guess I was about seven inches around.
I wondered if the 'around' distance mattered, or if the weight of my balls mattered. It didn't seem that we were going to weigh them today.
When we got back downstairs after cleaning up, Morrisette went over and was talking up a storm with the other girls, and some of the guys too. Jerry pulled Alicia to the side and was talking to her, all stern like. When she started shaking her head 'no, ' he gave her a big hug and a kiss, and had both hands on her behind.
Morrisette came over and gave me another coke, and the next time a slow song came up, Sherry wanted to dance with me. Morrisette danced with Todd. Sherry put her arms around my neck and started dancing. Which was good, 'cause that's the only way I knew how to slow-dance. But she stood a little to the side, so her one leg went between mine, and her other leg went on the outside of mine. Then she danced real close, and I could feel my penis starting to get hard.
Mark came over in a few minutes, and grabbed Sherry by the arm. Naturally, we stopped dancing and he said, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Sherry said, real quick, "Thanks for the dance, Chris." And then to Mark, she said, "I think we need to go upstairs and talk about this."
Before the song even ended, Patty came over to dance with me. She was the tallest girl there; the top of her head came up to my eyes. She was real pretty and was going to be a Senior next year. She grabbed me with one arm around my shoulders and another on my waist. She pulled me real close, too, and I could feel the heat of her girly parts against my penis. Then she snuck the hand that was on my waist, around to feel my penis from outside my jeans.
"Oh!" she said softly in my ear, "It really is big. We're going to have a playdate, real soon."
And then the song ended and she went to get a beer. When she got back, Pat was talking to her again.
Morrisette came over a little while later and said it was almost 7 and I'd better be getting home. She asked if I needed a ride or anything, but I said no. I had my bike and it was only a half mile back home. She took me outside, gave me a kiss on the cheek and a pat on my bulging penis and said, "Bye, Chris. We had fun, didn't we?"
"Yup," I said. And started pedaling back home. I got to the end of the drive and looked back. Morrisette and Todd had their arms around each other's waist and were walking back inside.
Lucy was taking courses at the local college; getting ready for when she went to college, she said. So, mostly, I had nothing to do all summer. I'd listen to the college level courses that Dad brought home on CD and I worked on learning the CAD program that we got. I was getting to be good at it and Dad said, "What God takes away with one hand, He gives back with another." I wasn't real sure what exactly Dad meant, but I guess it was kinda good.
I went to Morrisette's parties all summer and usually went up to her bedroom at some point where she gave me a blow job. She just put her mouth on the tip, and held the rest of me in her two hands – not like they did on the internet. We did some other stuff, too, where she'd let me touch her her girly parts and touch her up top, too. But we never got completely undressed, I swear we didn't. That was in June.
In July, some of the other girls were inviting me to their parties, too. And usually, I'd get to go upstairs with one of them. One of them let me put my penis between her, you know, her up top parts and she'd lick the head of my penis when I pushed it up. Then I spurted all over her chest and neck and she thanked me for the wonderful necklace. I thanked her for letting me come on her.
Almost always, I had to go home by about 7, but the party went on.
Morrisette's parties were the best though. Well, the party was kinda boring but what I got to do with Morrisette wasn't. From July to August she let me rub on the outside of her vagina with my penis, and rub up to the top where her clitoris was. In the movies (on the internet), the guys would sometimes lick there for a few seconds before the girl would deep throat him. Those guys had unbelievable staying power. I don't know how they did it, but they could go on for a long, long time before spurting – usually on the girl's stomach or her back, but sometimes on her face.
Anyhow, Morrisette would let me rub on her pussy and clit with my cock. I'm trying to use the words that get used in the movies. Then she would get all hot and nervous and say that we shouldn't be doing this, and she hoped that she wouldn't get into trouble. Then I'd have to go home while she went and spent some time with her other guests – her boring guests, she said.
I didn't tell my mom about this, of course. She had told me not to do 'things' with the girls at the parties, and so I didn't tell her.
One day, about two weeks after school started, Morrisette and her parents came to our house about 8 in the evening. It wasn't planned. We invited them in.
Morrisette just blurted out, "I'm pregnant and Chris is the daddy."
Edited by B4Lurker