Chapter 1

Just before my high school senior year started her family moved to the suburb I grew up in. Melinda Lynch. Mel. Tall. Slim. B sized breasts. A perfect pear shaped ass. A deceptively angelic face framed by thick dirty blonde hair clipped loosely behind her upper back and reaching just above that perfect ass as if pointing to it. A mischievous glint of her eyes and a smirk often made the deception less.

My shy glances and longer stares when seeing her backside when she wouldn’t notice were shared by most of the boys at my high school. All except the couple gay ones probably. Bolder glances from the more confident boys. The jocks. The quarterback and star receiver. But in my school, our dominant sport was swimming and the best of the swimmers was the BMOC, Paul. It took bold glances followed by bolder conversations to have a chance with her.

Paul had a girlfriend, but didn’t when Mel accepted his interest. Though, a couple months later, at least a month and a half after their affair ended, which lasted no longer than a week before she moved her interest to the aforementioned receiver and then the quarterback, the BMOC managed to get back with his girlfriend.

Melinda would have been categorized as the school slut sifting through the top male prospects in the school as if they were sand through fingers, except that somehow her remarkable presence defied that categorization. Or maybe it was her attitude. She didn’t care.

“Congratulations,” she said to me in front of the posting for the cast for Our Town, the play chosen for the fall production. Her first words to me.

“You too,” I returned.

She was Emily. The star. I was the Stage Manager. The narrator of the play.

“You ever dance?” she asked unexpectedly.

“No,” I replied.

“You should,” she said. “You have the body for it.”

Like her I was tall and slim. Taller than anyone else in school. She was as tall as any of the girls, but I had at least six inches on her.

“Have you heard of Connie Johns?” she continued.

“The dancer?”

Mel nodded. “Her company has a school. Classes twice a week. You have to audition, but mostly just to see if you can move. If you have any potential grace. But being male ... there aren’t nearly enough. Just two, with ten girls.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“What?” she asked.

“Just ... never mind.”

She laughed too. “Good odds for meeting girls.”

“Uhm...” I blushed. “I have a girlfriend.”

“So?” she winked.

“We’re...”

“Engaged?”

“No.”

“Pinned?”

“Nothing so ceremonial.” I shifted things. “What about rehearsal?”

“Classes are later. Seven until nine. There’s one tonight. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

“Uhm...”

“Your address?”

I gave it to her.

After school I called Carol, my girlfriend. She was plain and chubby, but we got along well. We took each other’s virginity. My best friend, in the basement of another friend’s remarkably permissive parents, all of us stoned on pot and drunk on a bottle of Southern Comfort, remarked that I could do better than Carol. Except none of my friends had girlfriends at that moment. Maybe they were choosier? But I did like Carol. Maybe loved her. And her body never bothered me. The opposite actually.

“You’re calling early,” she remarked. We usually talked lengthily after dinner.

“Uhm, I have plans,” I told her.

“Oh?”

“There’s a night class I’m checking out.”

“What sort of class?”

“Dance?”

She laughed. “What kind of dance?”

“Modern?”

“Was it a girl who told you about it?”

“Yes, but I’m only interested in you.”

“Back at you, big guy.”

“So ... I got the part,” I shifted. “Stage Manager in Our Town.”

“Of course you did.”

I thought Carol was talented. She’d been Laura in the Glass Menagerie at her school which was on the other side of the city from me. I’d met her through a friend of hers who was the son of a friend of my dad’s. A fellow professor. She’d done well in the role in my biased opinion, but unlike me she wasn’t interested in pursuing it.

We conversed easily like we always did until we reluctantly ended the conversation, exchanging “I love yous”.

I passed the dance audition that night. Almost all the girls were pretty, and their bodies, well displayed, were toned and enjoyable to see. A couple of exceptions, one chubby, the other fat, but most were lithe and slim like Mel, if not nearly as tall. I enjoyed the view, especially Mel, but I had a girlfriend.

“You sure you’re not gay?” Mel asked on the way home.

“Why would you ask that?”

“All those pretty bodies and no chubby,” she smirked. “Though if you were, I suppose Simon would have created one.”

Simon was good looking, almost pretty, with a muscled body, though not thickly muscled. His attention to me made it clear his preference.

“I have a girlfriend,” I reminded her.

“For a teenager, you have remarkable restraint.”

I shrugged. I did enjoy the view, especially her, but I think it had to do with concentration more than anything. All the moves I needed to memorize, and do so without thinking about it. I was a work in progress.

Mel and I became friends after that. The more we got to know each other, the more we seemed to like each other. But, like her coaxing me to join the dance class, she could always persuade me to do just about anything.

Like a couple weeks into rehearsal one Friday. “There’s a party tonight,” she insisted on the drive home. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“What sort of party?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” she smirked. “What curfew do you have?”

“11?”

“Ask for 12.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have a suit?”

“Nothing that fits. I do have a sports jacket.”

“Wear it and a tie.”

“Okay.”

The outfit lent me an excuse for a later curfew. A lie about homecoming at Carol’s school. Ours had been the week before. Carol and I had skipped it, preferring the time alone in her bedroom, her parents off at some camp that weekend. A nudist camp which Carol hated. Being that both her parents were quite fat, I had to agree.

Though I needed an excuse for Mel picking me up in her cherry red Mustang. “She’s got a boyfriend,” I told the parents. “Some college boy, and was nice enough to give me a ride.” Carol’s high school adjoined the University of Minnesota. In fact it was called Marshall-University. A combining of two high schools.

I never knew why my parents trusted Mel, except for the fact they might have been able to figure out we weren’t having sex. Something about not looking so sated when she drove me home from dance classes. Or that I was still having marathon telephone conversations with Carol and was still seeing her on the weekends.

The parking lot of the private high school was full. “Going through the jocks here too?” I couldn’t help asking.

She laughed. “We met at the Racquet Club,” she explained.

Her date waited for us at the entrance to the gym. Unlike me, he had a nice tailored suit, gray with subtle pin stripes. He was a couple inches shorter than her, even more because of the two inch heals she wore. After the gawking flash that Mel tended to generate from the opposite sex, especially with her form fitting little black dress, he settled into an arrogant smirk. I immediately disliked him. Beside him was a girl who looked a lot like him. Shorter with a more pronounced nose. More Jewish looking. And much shyer.

“I’m Sarah, Nate’s twin sister,” she told me quietly while Nate embraced Mel and whispered in her ear. Mel nodded and they broke the embrace. “Come on,” said Mel to me. Sarah and I followed the two to a BMW and climbed into the back seat.

Nate leaned over Mel and opened the glove compartment. Out came a small pill bottle and a flask. He nudged out a white pill and passed the bottle.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Ecstasy!” Mel exclaimed with a wide grin.

I shrugged and tapped out a pill. We all took it with the alcohol in the flask. A brandy that even at my age I could tell was especially smooth. After passing around the flask again and emptying it, Nate said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get some more.”

Not long into the dance, the ecstasy hit me and everything was brilliant. Both the light and life in general. I pulled Sarah closer to me in our slow dance. “Wow,” I said into her ear.

She giggled.

A fast song followed, but somehow we kept some contact. But it wasn’t just her I felt connected to. It was everyone and everything.

Mel came up to me after that song. “Nate and are going to go somewhere private. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” I smiled. Probably a goofy smile because she laughed.

A couple songs later, Sarah tugged on my hand. “Come on,” she said. She pulled me out of the auditorium into the school hallway. We passed the toilets where a couple students lingered.

“Hey Sarah,” one said.

“Hi Janet,” Sarah blushed. “I’m ... uhm ... going to give Joe a tour.”

“A tour,” Janet giggled.

Sarah pulled me away, blushing even more. We turned a corner, no longer seen. A little ways down she stopped at a door and unlocked it. “The benefit of being a nerd girl,” she explained, pulling me into what appeared to be a closet. But what turned out to be an AV room combined with a projection booth. On the other side of a large glass opening, the lights of the room bleeding into it, was a theater. A 16mm film projector and a large follow spot would potentially project at the stage. A door on the other side of the equipment led into the theater. “The lock’s on the booth side,” she informed me.

She led me down a slightly ramped aisle and to the front seats where she sat and I sat beside her. Like movie theater seats combined with airline seats, a folding table could be extracted from between the seats to create a desk. The contraption lifted up from below the seat cushions so wasn’t in the way.

She shifted towards me, her eyes wide, nervous and hopeful. “Would you kiss me Joe?” she asked.

“I ... have a girlfriend,” I told her.

It was as if I’d told her her dog had died or something the way her face shifted expression and her eyes teared. “Oh,” she said.

It wasn’t if I wasn’t attracted to her. She was pretty, and even in her conservative dress I could tell she had a nice body. Full and shapely. Buxom. Voluptuous. So I leaned over and kissed her.

Immediately obvious she was inexperienced, sloppy, with her mouth wide, I pulled back. “Relax,” I told her. “Follow my lead. Lips closed.”

“Sorry. I just...”

“I understand,” I smiled. And kissed her. Her lips had gone tight. I pulled back. “Relax, Sarah.”

“Okay,” she smiled.

This time it worked. She followed my lead. The shifting. The widening lips. My tongue tapping at her teeth opened them, letting it in and greeting her tongue, which sparked her passion and mine too. She pulled me closer with her hand. Then the same hand led mine to her breast. I could tell she liked the squeeze there, but it was like she wore armor. I broke the kiss.

“Lean forward,” I told her. I unzipped the dress, but it was awkward. So I moved my hips forward. “Sit on my lap.” She did, sideways. “Straddle me,” I instructed her.

“I don’t think my dress...”

“It is a bit of trouble,” I chuckled. “Stand and turn around.” She did and I unzipped the dress. Pulled it down and she stepped out of it, immediately draping it over the seat she once occupied. It revealed a soft, pale abdomen, but not fat. And more armor. Like wired support for her white bra. And pantyhose. I sighed.

I looked into her eyes. “What do you want from me Sarah?”

“I ... uhm... , “ her eyes focused down, away from mine.

“You need to tell me. To be honest, it’s all or nothing right now. And I don’t mean going all the way. Like I said, I have a girlfriend, and even though I think I’ve already cheated a bit, that’s a step too far. As well as you not being ready.”

She finally looked into my eyes. “My brother told me his date...”

“Mel.”

“Mel ... she would bring a friend. You. I didn’t know what to expect. But ... you’re so tall and ... uhm ... handsome. And the way you danced with me. You ... excited me even more. And I thought...”

“You felt my excitement.”

“Yes,” she blushed.

“It’s because you’re so sexy, Sarah.”

“I am?”

“Most definitely,” I grinned, my hand sweeping across her breasts, along her side, across her hip and between her thighs, making her murmur a moan. “The problem is what you’re wearing is like a chastity belt, only for your breasts and...” I brushed across her well-hidden pussy again.

“All or nothing,” she nodded.

“All or nothing,” I nodded.

She swallowed and reached back. “Let me,” I smiled. She turned around and I undid the two hooks. When she turned around, placing the bra on her dress, an arm crossed over her breasts. “Let me see,” I quietly urged, opening my legs and pulling her closer. She lowered her arm. “Beautiful,” I murmured, and they were. Firm and full. Perfect roundness below. A gentle ramp above leading to small, slightly upturned nipples, a reddish brown, surrounded by slightly paler brown areolas an inches in diameter.

She obviously wanted me to touch them, so I did, gently, enjoying the weight and the soft resilience of her flesh and carefully coaxing more hardness in the nipples. “Oh,” she moaned quietly. “Mmm,” she added.

I finally looked away from her delectable flesh back at her eyes. “You’re still wearing a chastity belt,” I told her.

“My ... panty hose?”

“Yes.”

She stepped back and pealed them off and added it to the stack. Full panties, not quite granny-panties, but close, were revealed. I was actually glad she hadn’t been naked beneath. Her thighs were soft and thick but I thought beautifully shaped.

When I moved my hips forward again, she understood and straddled my lap. “Oh,” she commented, feeling my erection against her vagina. I pulled her into a kiss. A French kiss soon enough. My hands took hold of the full flesh of her buttocks and coaxed her into the rub of genitals. She immediately got the message and took over grinding against me, the long hill of flesh created by my erect cock against the lips of her cunt, and most piquantly I imagined, the clit hardening above it. I could feel the dampness of her excitement wet my blue slacks, and even the heat she generated.

With my hands free, I brought them to her breasts, and especially her nipples. Becoming less and less gentle. And when her rubbing became more emphatic, faster and wilder, I broke the kiss, and brought my mouth to them, nipping and sucking with lips and gently scraping with teeth until she pressed even harder against me and became even more frantic.

And it wasn’t like I was immune to the friction. Just as she froze, a surprisingly deep growl emanating from her mouth, I pressed back, undulating, joining her in orgasmic bliss.

“Oh wow,” she finally said. Remember we were on ecstasy, and it was even more intense.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Did you... ?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I grinned.

She grinned back. “Can I see it?”

“It’s a bit messy.”

“I don’t care. Can I see you?”

“Okay.”

She knelt between my legs and figured out how to undo the restraints of belt and pants. Pulling them down just enough, she also pulled down my boxers.

“What about the seat?” I asked her.

“Mystery stain,” she giggled, studying my sodden penis. “It’s so small,” she decided.

“Not what a man likes to hear,” I chuckled.

She giggled again. “Can I get it big again?”

“I think you can.”

“Can I see the rest of you?”

“Okay.”

I struggled out of my jacket, tie, shirt and undershirt while she watched and caressed my penis. “Nice,” she judged, her hand caressing my firm chest and abdomen. I wasn’t muscular really, in the traditional sense. My muscles were slim like the rest of me. There, but not pronounced.