Chapter 2

Didn’t fully believe Kevin’s story about Jena having a party and wanting me to be her official tattoo artist. Called Jena, just to make sure I wasn’t walking into a trap, but then chose some nice jeans and top with Kevin in mind. Not that I admitted that out loud, of course. I told myself that I was wearing jeans to keep the jerk from feeling me up, but those same jeans also happened to do a great job of outlining my butt. Let’s just say I was confused and under the spell of early-onset puberty.

The day was good, the girls were cute, and I outdid myself in painting their cheeks with more than a dozen different Pokemon characters. Kevin cooked hotdogs, we ate chips, watched an episode of Pokemon, and I was done. I mean, you can only bury yourself in Pokemon stuff for so long before needing to scream for fresh air.

Told the girls I had to go and Kevin, ever the gentleman, insisted that he walk me home. Had his hand on my lower back all the way, but that was okay. Made the mistake of mentioning that my parents and sister were out somewhere. Kevin showed an interest in seeing our nothing of a home, I had no good reason to tell him to get lost, and you of course know what happened next.

No, not quite as bad as that day he rolled onto me, but almost.

I would have offered Kevin something to drink, willing to sit and talk and maybe even flirt a bit. I admitted that to myself, feeling fine about getting some attention from the man, but he was way faster than me. Only a minute after I closed the door Kevin pulled me into a hug, and when I pushed back he bent down and kissed me. And not an all handsy and rough kiss either. It was nice and I actually allowed him to pull me closer and continue contact.

The magic wonder of the kiss lasted maybe thirty seconds. Then Kevin’s hands rose up under the light jacket I was wearing, feeling my boobs. That felt okay, but then he started saying stupid things, his hands never stopping at roving over my body, and even when I had “No” as my first and only answer, the man eventually got what he wanted.

“May. Beautiful May. I’ve been waiting to be alone with you all day.”

“Yeah, but move your hands...”

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I love kissing you, feeling your body, holding you close.”

That’s when his hands went low, like right between my thighs. I kind of freaked out, but for good reason.

“NO. Not there. Don’t touch. That’s so wrong.”

“Come on May. You know how I feel.”

“But you’re so clueless. Like, you know how you almost got me pregnant, right? Already told you I’m not, and I know that because I’m on my period right now. You’re one lucky guy, so don’t push it.”

Tried to pull away, like twist out of Kevin’s hold, but he only held me tighter, saying, “Hey. I don’t mind. It’s okay.”

Stupid words from a guy who didn’t seem to understand what was going on between my legs. When his hand actually tried to undo my belt, I hit him, repeated my demand that he stop being an asshole. That’s when he went in a totally different direction. Kevin stropped trying to go low and instead focused on all my body parts above my waist.

In what seemed at the time as a smooth masterful move, Kevin tripped me down, lowering me to sit on our couch while his hands pulled up on my coat and blouse. In seconds he’d uncovered my breasts, his tongue lapping at one nipple, fingers playing with the other. I was so shocked at what had happened that I let him enjoy himself for what seemed a long minute.

Have to admit it felt good, like in a mind-numbing way that sends all reason and rational thought out the back door. Still, I somehow found enough strength to finally push Kevin’s eager mouth away from my tits. In true Kevin style, he again changed the rules of the game and really upped the notch for turning me into his sexual plaything for the next year.

“May. You know you’re hot looking, right? Really beautiful breasts, and so delicious. I get that you can’t do anything more. I know you’re having your period, but could you help me out?

I’d heard those words before, the echo filling my head and causing my heart to speed up. Time, on the other hand, seemed to slow down, everything going soft and numb. I couldn’t answer Kevin and seemed to have lost control of my body. I just sat there, allowing the man to talk and do with me as he wished while memories from my past filled my head.

Kevin pulled me off the couch, sitting me on the bare rug, and not at all to my surprise I saw his dick sticking out from the crotch of his jeans. With one hand behind my head, he pushed his hips closer to my face, and dutiful girl that I was, I reached out, took a firm hold of the hairy base, and brought the wide but soft tip of his male organ to my mouth.

Still numb to all the world around me, I sucked on those first few inches of flesh, licked and sucked, pumped my head a bit, my tongue playing with the underside of Kevin’s cock, sucking and swallowing just as I had been taught a year before. Less than a year, yet a lifetime before, and though so much time had passed between my then and now, the lessons remained and I did what I had come to do so well.

The flash of memory took me over, and though my mouth job with Kevin only took a couple of minutes, I remembered all, even the fine details, down to the scent of Gary’s cologne and the feel of his wool sweater on my naked back.

It was at most a year before we’d moved into the new place. We were living in a junky apartment, and one day my father came home and announced that he’d made a deal with one of the sons of some guy down the block. The kid was just out of high school, without work and driving his parents crazy. The parents had made a deal with my dad, him putting in a sprinkler system in their front yard in exchange for the kid teaching me basic piano.

It didn’t matter to my father that we didn’t own a piano and that I wouldn’t be able to practice anything the boy taught me. It only mattered that I would learn piano and that the lessons were cheap, his labor in exchange for his daughter becoming a piano virtuoso. My mother and father imagined my sister singing at Carnegie Hall with me accompanying her on the piano. They were clueless but well meaning so I went along with it.

Turned out that the boy really had just left my high school, working some nothing part-time job in the mornings and wasting away his afternoons playing games online. Sounded great to me, and I was actually a little embarrassed at how our parents were robbing the young man of what seemed to be the perfect vacation. Parents are so clueless.

The guy seemed okay. Five years older than me, kind of tall and handsome, but also a bit of a slacker. Still, older and kind of interesting, and he didn’t seem to mind at all that he was having to teach baby basics to the little girl down the block. So every Tuesday and Thursday I went to the guy’s house and took hour-long lessons. That happened for the first couple of weeks, the guy patiently going over basic skills and having me repeat a couple of different scales over and over again. Half of the lesson was spent just talking, sharing a soda or lemonade and a couple of cookies while talking about what went on in our lives.

I should note that the guy’s name was Gary and I keep referring to him as a “guy” because he wasn’t a boy and yet certainly wasn’t a man. I could relate. In those first weeks I really connected with Gary.

It was just about the time Gary decided I should start to memorize Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (only the first part, and I never learned any more piano from Gary but that). To my disbelieving brain, one day Gary told me how much he cared for me and how he hoped I cared for him. I was confused but nodded, and that’s when he kissed my neck and his hands began undoing the top of my blouse.

Remember that I wasn’t even in high school at the time. Just turned 14, just a clueless girl with hard facts about sex being mixed with fantasy and romance. Having an older guy make moves on me wasn’t totally beyond my imagination, but it wasn’t something I was ready for. When I objected to what Gary was doing, he pulled back, apologized, and asked if as a friend I could help him. That was the phrase, one all boys and men seem to use, including Kevin. He wanted me to help him, and that was when he pulled my hand over to his very naked dick.

Like I said, I wasn’t a totally naïve kid. I had the basics down in the back of my head and knew what Gary was asking me to do. I should have screamed and run for home, but I was growing a lot more than just curious about guys, and here I had a nice guy, a handsome young man, politely asking me to help him. It seemed as though I was finally being treated like a young woman, and it all seemed under control, so I gave myself up to Gary and did as he asked.

A young man’s dick in hand, hardening under my touch, growing long and fat, was an incredible sight for a girl like me. That was enough to fill my head with dreams and nightmares for a month, but then Gary told me to kneel on the rug. My head filled with the sound of my heart beating in my chest. I found myself kneeling before him, my hands moving up and down his long hard cock, his own hands making free with my pubescent tits. For me that was all the sex I needed to last me for a year, but then Gary pulled my head in, his voice telling a disembodied me to open my mouth.

My mind had gone numb, all sense of reason deserting me, so I just did what I was told. Move my tongue, suck, and repeat. Gary moaned a lot, told me of how beautiful and wonderful I was, his hands massaging my titis while slowly moving the tip of his dick in and out of my lips. Then the sudden groan and a lot of stuff being shot into my mouth. I tried to pull back, but Gary wouldn’t let me. He held my head with both hands, pushing his dick deeper into my mouth, repeating over and over again for me to swallow.

And that was it. A few minutes of indignity, of doing something with a man’s private area, and it was over. I was in a state of shock, my mind still not being able to comprehend what this much older boy had done or what I had done with him. I was still trying to get the bitter sticky stuff out of my throat when Gary pulled me close and told me how I was the most special girl in the world to him. Then he gave me some lemonade. Odd that afterwards I always associated the smell and taste of sweet lemonade with giving a guy a blow job and the taste and texture of a guy’s cum.

Every piano lesson after that was the same. First a little practice of the Moonlight Sonata followed by a half hour of Gary feeling up my tits while moaning out how good my mouth was. Every lesson improved both my fingering on the piano and my ability to suck cock. Every day a little lesson in male physiology, of how balls felt rubbing against my face, of how to suck without use of my teeth, and of course how to prepare for Gary’s eventual flood of cum flowing down my throat.

The worst part, other than a sore jaw, was the stickiness, having to really work at clearing my throat and slowly swallowing the mouthful of cum he always delivered. Small controlled swallows turned out to be the key. Let the guy unload, his hands holding my head tight, then slowly swallow in small gulps as his groans subsided and his cock softened. It was just something I learned to do. Gary learned not to shove his cock down my throat and I learned how to swallow while pretending to love it.

I was smart enough to know we shouldn’t be doing that, so I of course never mentioned this to my father or anybody else. I knew it was so wrong that I couldn’t imagine ever bringing it up with another person, but I also didn’t know that I could make it stop. To tell the truth, I’m not sure I wanted it to stop. It was dirty and nasty, and yet something taboo and interesting. I knew other girls talked about it, about how other girls (never us, always girls we heard about, like older sisters) did things like this, so I secretly reveled in the idea that I was part of a secret group I could never reveal or talk about.

This became a normal part of my life. Slowly learning piano while quickly becoming a master of giving blowjobs. It actually got sort of boring. A little gross, kind of nasty, but the only thing I really disliked was when Gary tried to push his dick down my throat. As long as I kept my hands on his shaft I could keep him under control. Within a couple of months I was able to finish the guy off and swallow in record time. Actually, I remember even thinking that the thick bitter taste of his cum made all my food at home taste weird too. But the feel of Gary’s hands on my pubescent tits was nice and it was fun to think I was finally learning what it was like to be a real woman.

Only rarely spoken out loud was love and our being in a relationship. Gary cared for me, thought me the most special girl he’d ever met, and promised he didn’t have another girlfriend. Yet we never went out as a couple but once with his parents to see some concert pianist. Even had ice cream afterwards, but only that once.

The closest Gary ever came to declaring love was when he said that I was his joy of joys. Said it every time after he deposited a spare few ounces of precious bodily fluid inside of me. He’d hug me, kiss me, and whisper out, “May. So wonderful. My joy of joys.”

It was actually kind of simple and even understandable to me, but things of course became deeper and darker and more dangerous. Gary was happy with how quickly I learned to suck and swallow, eventually having me suck him dry before our piano lesson and then again after I’d stumbled though the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. Got so that he knew to give me something to wash away the accumulated cum in my mouth. First the lemonade but later small bottles or cans of sweet alcoholic drinks. Within six months I was addicted to the stuff. If I’d kept seeing Gary, I’m sure I would have become an alcoholic.