Uncle Frank, Pauline, Sex, and Me
Copyright© 2024 by Fatbastard
Chapter 25
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 25 - Coming of Age in 1960s New Zealand. My father's much younger brother guided and mentored me from early adolescence through my teenage years and a series of girlfriends. While each story can stand alone, readers will get most out of this series if they read chronologically starting with Andrea, and progressing through Bronwyn and Robyn to my adventures with Pauline
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Teenagers Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Farming School Vignettes First Oral Sex Petting
May - June 1962
I had been sleeping naked since I moved from the Grandkerrs, and I lay on my back with Jax cuddled in to my left side, with her head under my arm and her cheek against my chest. That felt really nice, particularly the bits of Jax that were skin to skin with me, but there was no sexual energy between us, and I soon drifted back to sleep.
I woke with my body spooning Jax from behind, with the top of her head under my chin. Her legs were together as she lay on her side, and my morning wood was in contact with her lower back, but I certainly wasn’t thinking of taking things further.
But Jax felt my stiffy and didn’t like it. Her voice was sharp. “You’re horny, but I’m just here for cuddles.”
I rolled away to lie on my back. “That’s fine. I’ve got a stiffy, but most men wake up hard most mornings. Not your problem.”
That didn’t help. If anything, it made Jax grumpier. “So you expect me to believe that you don’t want to fuck me?”
“Of course I want to fuck you, but only when we’re both ready. That’s nothing to do with this!” I slapped my erection where it lay against my belly. “Like I said, it’s not your problem.”
“And you don’t expect me to help you with your ‘problem’?”
“Look – you came to my bed in the middle of the bloody night wanting to cuddle. We have cuddled, and I enjoyed it, but I woke up hard.” Jax continued to look sceptical and slightly pissed off, and I felt myself quite niggled. “I’m hard most mornings, whether I have someone in my bed or not. It’s how guys are - for Chrissake!”
“Hmmph.” By now my morning wood had wilted, obviously not enjoying our interaction any more than I was, and Jax seemed a little more comfortable. “Looks like you’ve gone off the idea now anyhow.”
I took several deep breaths. “So would you like to cuddle back in for a few minutes before I get up and get ready for school?”
Jax didn’t answer, but cuddled back under my arm and lay relatively peacefully beside me for a few minutes. I didn’t ask her to share my shower, but when I emerged, I was surprised to find that she was cooking me some breakfast. That posed a problem, since it wasn’t quite ready and I was running late. I could bolt some cereal and hurry to school, or I could wait for Jax’s cooked breakfast and be late.
Shit. The breakfast was clearly a peace offering, and I was reluctant to reject it for any reason. But being late for school wasn’t good either. So I decided to risk driving. Strictly against the rules, and I’d be in deep shit if I was caught, but what the hell! I thanked Jax profusely, ate the breakfast she had cooked, extracted a promise to talk more that evening, and set off in Harriet. I parked a couple of streets away from school and made it to homeroom on time.
The axe fell at the start of Mr Nichols Calculus class, late in the morning. He eyeballed me as we trooped into his room. “The Head would like a word Kerr. Pop along now.”
‘Pop along’ indeed! I got a few sympathetic and curious glances as I reversed course towards the classroom door. When the Head invited a pupil for ‘a word’, it was never good. Boys in junior classes were sometimes caned. As a Year 12, I was fairly safe from that, but suspension was possible and even If I escaped any actual punishment, it was fairly certain that I was not going to enjoy the ‘word’.
The School Secretary waved me through the office, I knocked on the heavy door to the Head’s study, and sat on the wooden bench in the panelled anteroom, waiting for the command to enter. It had been highly polished by fifty years of serge clad backsides, and I idly wondered how many boys had been invited for a ‘word’ in the seventeen years the present incumbent had held the position. He had been a pupil at the school during WWI, taught on the staff during the thirties, and been appointed Headmaster just before I was born.
“Come in!” His voice carried easily and I got up and went in at once, immediately, forthwith, and without delay, standing at what approximated attention in front of his desk. His frown deepened, and he threw his glasses down on the broad expanse of polished Rimu in front of him.
“You know why you’re here?”
Full confession and abject apology was my best hope, so I did my best to look apologetic. “Yes sir.”
“So what am I going to do with you?”
I knew the question was rhetorical, but Grandpa Kerr always said ‘you might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb’, so I took a risk. “Admonish me, warn me of dire consequences if I do it again, and send me back to Mr Nichols?”
He laughed. “The staff all say you’re a cocky little bastard. Let’s see what you know.” I waited, and he went on. “What is the rule?”
“Only prefects can drive cars to school during the week.”
“Why was that rule made?”
I took a guess. “Parking?”
The Head ‘s expression didn’t change. “And?”
Another guess. “Boys in cars at lunchtime spell trouble?” He nodded, and since I was on a roll, I went on. Some risk before and after school, with guys in uniform cruising?”
He nodded again. “So, who’s car is it?”
I was just a little proud “Mine sir.”
“Good. You’re still parked in Mount St?”
“Yessir.”
“Go and get the car. Park it by this end of the cricket pavilion and bring me the keys. Off you go!”
I escaped, followed his instructions, and was back in the anteroom in less than ten minutes. There was a short wait while he dealt with another miscreant, and then I was again admitted. I removed the car key from my ring, and handed it over.
“Come back at 3.30 on Friday week. The car stays where it is until then. Got it?”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
“That will be all Kerr. Go – and sin no more!”
I turned to make my escape – thankful that I had got off (comparatively) lightly, but the Head had another thought. “Who said that and when?”
I hadn’t had much religious education, but I was blessed with a very good memory. “I think it was Jesus sir, the woman taken in adultery, ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone’. That stuff.”
He cracked a smile. “There may be hope for you yet Kerr. Keep your nose clean and you’ll be a prefect next year. Remember that, and keep setting an example.”
“Yessir. Thank you sir!”
I returned to Mr Nicholls, differentiability, and lotsa curious glances. Two weeks without a car was going to be a pain. I walked home after school as usual, wondering how things stood with Jax and what I was going to say to her.
We sat down together in the parlour after tea. Judith hovered on the edge of our conversation. I encouraged that, hoping she could help us out if we got stuck, but when I actually started to talk to Jax, I found that I knew exactly what I wanted to say.
“I really enjoyed our cuddle, and I’m up for more, but I didn’t enjoy the rest of our interaction.” I would have gone on, but Jax interrupted me.
“I’ve never been that close to a real live stiff cock before. I suppose I was a bit scared!” Her shoulders tightened and her hands came back in front of her face. “I must be fucked in the head!”
Judith stepped up. “No! You have had some unusual experiences, but David has always respected my boundaries, and Pauline and Alison and Robyn all trust him.” She nodded towards me. “He claims to be honest about what he thinks and feels, and both Pauline and Robyn have complained that he sometimes talked far too much about consent when he should have been tearing their clothes off!”
Jax relaxed a little, and I thought I’d try to reassure her further. “Your Aunt Flora was right. On some level, most men are always wanting to fuck most women, but she is wrong about the best way to relate. She told you to always stay in control. That’s fine for running a knock shop, but won’t work in a relationship with most men and it certainly won’t work with me!”
Jax nodded and looked thoughtful, and we went about our various evening activities before bed. I wondered whether Jax would come to me ‘for a cuddle’, but I spent the night alone, and walked off to school in the morning before she emerged from her room.
I had been worried about the temporary loss of my car, but in fact, as Pauline had pointed out before I bought Harriet, I didn’t actually need one for my normal routine, since Frank provided transport to and from our various after school and weekend jobs, and one of the girls usually borrowed a car for our Friday shift at Mary’s World. My ‘dates’ with Pauline were generally trips to my bed, and we both seemed to have lost our appetites for al fresco sex.
My car key was waiting for me at the school office when my punishment was over, and I took the girls to our shift at Mary’s World that night. Pauline stayed with me as usual, but woke me before dawn as she dealt with my morning wood. She had an agenda.
“Let’s surprise the Jaygirls with some rabbits.”
“What about your Drama session? It’s pretty late.”
“Week off. I’m free all morning.”
We went North over the bridge, but it was well light by the time we got to the outskirts of suburbia, and I was wondering if any rabbits would still be out in the open. A couple were, and we both rediscovered our appetite for al fresco sex, especially when combined with our mutual ‘meat for sex’ kink, and a ‘quickie’ with Pauline bent over Harriet’s bonnet seemed like a good idea.
She was very wet, I was very hard, and I slipped into her easily as she arched her back. One long stroke and my pubes and lower belly ground against her skinny buttocks. That was really nice, so I stayed pretty well embedded, and kept grinding and pumping. Both of us were having a very good time, and our ‘quickie’ somehow stretched past it’s usual couple of minutes. I hadn’t been over the bridge to hunt the North Shore for a couple of months, confining my rabbit hunting to the Waitakeres in the North West, and I had completely forgotten about the Harriers.
They came round the bend behind Harriet in a loose bunch. It was a training run, so they weren’t going fast, but I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye as I ground against Pauline. She had her head turned to leer at me over her other shoulder, but she saw from my face that our ‘good idea’ was abut to become a bad one.
“Shit! Quick!” Neither of us had finished, but I pulled out and stooped to pull up my jockeys and sweatpants. Pauline had a bit more difficulty, and by the time the pack drew level and passed us she was only just semi decent. None of the harriers seemed particularly upset. Most of them grinned or laughed, but I was pleased that we had managed to cover our ‘bits’ (well nearly).
The harriers ran on, but I certainly didn’t feel like resuming our sexual activity. Neither did Pauline.
“Let’s go home and go back to bed.”
“Alright. We can ask the Jaygirls to dress the rabbits.”
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