Chapter 5

School is school. For me the last year of high school was a lot of the same old thing, more nonsense than anything else. I’d already taken a couple of college entrance exams and most of what I did in my senior year was just fluff. Assuming I’d get into college, I naturally took a few college prep classes, hoping to test out of needing those lower division classes if I ever went to college. Otherwise, I was just wasting my time. The only real thrill of school was walking Jennie to school, having lunch break with her and some friends, and then walking her back home with the possibility of some quality alone time.

As I had hoped, my returning classmates were envious, or spiteful, one of the two. Everyone assumed I was with the hot little freshman only because she put out, the girls spreading rumors of how she had gotten pregnant by me and needed an abortion over the summer. All stupid and mean. Fortunately, Jennie was able to ignore the worst and laugh at the rest. But as she had said, she was only my girlfriend at school.

We walked off down the sidewalk every afternoon hand in hand, but we sometimes split up well before we made it to our own homes. And between homework and home chores and work and parents, we didn’t have much time to ourselves. Even the weekends seemed to limit our time together to only an hour each day, and often with parents within hearing range. It sucked.

Going from almost daily access to the hottest little girl in the city to a couple of afternoon sessions in my bed after school and maybe a quickie on the weekend would make any guy depressed. We did talk, got really personal, and it was easy for me to think that I was Jennie’s most favorite guy on the planet. Walking to school or meeting in the hallway between classes or even just doing homework at her place we really began acting like best and intimate friends and lovers. She was always ready to talk about a teacher or some classmate’s new piercing or the lyrics of a song she had heard. I’d never been that close with another person before, and certainly not a girl. To me it was pretty special.

By the time school started it was so normal for us to be naked and playing around with each other’s bodies that she’d continue talking about everyday stuff even when all I could think of is how to get hard and fill another one of her holes. And not just after sex, what I know is called pillow talk. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to suck me up into a second erection, go down on my sticky cock while playing with my balls, swallow a full load while having me lick her into an orgasm of her own, and just five minutes later have her detail the outfit she was trying to talk her mother into buying for her. I just nodded and played along. I was only there because I felt wonderful being with her and was of course addicted to the times I could be inside of her. I was totally hers and she allowed me to think that she was all mine. Except for when she wasn’t.

The problem wasn’t really with school or parents. It was with Jennie’s other friends. One or two afternoons a week Jennie would peel off from me and continue on to the house she disappeared into on the day she was attacked. You remember, the day I sat back and watched Jennie get her pussy creamed by the two guards. Seems that when she told me she was hanging out with other friends during the summer she wasn’t just gossiping with her girlfriends. The motorcycle guy was gone but his more than friendly housemates were just as close to her.

What I had wished were kind and understanding adults that Jennie felt she could turn to for sympathy were of course grown men who had a very special relationship with Jennie. Boyfriends? Lovers? Sugar daddies? Jennie wouldn’t say at first, only slowly admitting that, yeah, she had sex with one of the men, then admitting that sometimes it was more than one, but that it was really none of my business. Names were casually dropped, then some of the things she did with the guys. I was jealous and resentful, but the more I showed my dislike of the time she spent over there, the less she talked. I learned to shut up and listen and be grateful for the few days and nights of the week she was mine.

Jennie didn’t talk out in detail was what went on behind the closed doors of the house down the street. Now that I knew all about her “other friends” she slowly started mentioning them in conversation, but only in bits and pieces. She’d bring up some bit of info, like Sam, from the guy’s house, wanting her to help him wash his car or the new way she learned to make stir-fry from one of Sam’s friends.

The everyday stuff came out almost every day, but she was pretty tight lipped about any of the sex that went on there. Between us, about what we did together, everything was on the table. We might be walking to school and she’d joke about how she could still feel all my sperm swimming around inside of her. We even watched a little porn together and talked about what else we could do and where we could do it, just like a real boyfriend and girlfriend should. But how Sam’s techniques or cock or kissing compared to mine? She didn’t want to go there.

But stuff did trickle out, and I like to think it was because Jennie was starting to trust me and didn’t intentionally mention some sexual activity of the previous Saturday at Sam’s just to rub it in my face.

For example, a few weeks into the semester she casually mentioned something that both upset me and had my cock up and humming.

“Mom got really pissed at me last night,” she threw out as we were walking to school. “I was way late for dinner, spending too much time at Sami’s.” (his name is actually Sam, but Jennie told her mother that “Sami” or “Samantha” was just a girl friend at school.)

I tried to keep the conversation up, always ready for more info about the house down the street she so often disappeared into. “Any more news about George?” (the original child molester who busted Jennie’s cherry. Turns out he was in jail on a shoplifting charge. So stupid.)

“No. Just stuck in jail. He pleaded guilty and gets out in a year. And all for some leather coat.”

“So, why so late getting home? Sam do all of your homework for you?”

“Hah. Funny. His brother (Troy) comes busting into his room saying something about their mother needing to get her car smogged and registered. Troy just sits down and we wind up smoking something he had, me in the middle of the bed, the guys talking like I wasn’t sitting there with my tits hanging out. Kind of embarrassing, but fun too. His brother’s like out of high school by only a couple years and still living with his mom. Really nice. He asked me to go out to the river next Saturday but no way my mom would agree to that. Total bullshit.”

“So, you spend all this time at Sam’s, like in bed and smoking shit and stuff. I’m jealous. How about a little time for your boyfriend?”

I was actually a little miffed if not full on jealous, but I really couldn’t go down that road. Without saying it, though she occasionally did start dropping hints about it, Jennie had it going with both Sam and her brother, and very likely both at the same time after they had finished that joint. Jennie would do that all the time. She’d start to talk about all the things she did with this or that guy at Sam’s but then start on something else, intentionally leaving all the interesting parts to my imagination. When I pushed for details she’d just say it was none of my business.

You know, like “So Sam and this other guy and me drove out to the guy’s house. It was supposed to be quick, to get some bricks that Sam wanted, but it got so hot we wound up naked in the guy’s pool. Didn’t get home until almost six and boy was my mother not happy.” Get it? Bricks and naked in the pool with two guys and then nothing, but my imagination could sure fill in the blanks.

Other times Jennie might throw something out, like “I never knew guys could be uncircumcised. Never thought about it. You guys are all so weird. It’s like, every guy’s penis is different.” And then she’d shut up and not explain why this particular subject had come to mind. If I just wanted to talk about different kinds of cocks, then sure, talk away. But if I were to ask about what Sam had between his leg, she’d glare and tell me I was just being petty.

Another day she actually dropped out of the blue that guy’s cum mostly tastes the same, “Just like yours, Taylor,” but that some guys are thicker and harder to swallow than other guys. A hundred different images pour through my brain, and I demand some more details, and she just pulls back and says, “I’m just sharing, but I don’t want to go into too much detail. It’s kind of embarrassing, and private, you know?” It all drove me crazy.

Other names occasionally came up, but Sam and Troy and Lone were the most consistent. Seems that Sam was the one to show Jennie the ropes with the health clinic and birth control for girls too young to know what they’re getting themselves into. That wasn’t what led to Sam’s initial access to Jennie’s most sacred space. George seemed to be quite free with Jennie back during the three months they were together much earlier in the year. Jennie had continued to return to maintain that special union with Sam, me being the actual interloper, turning Jennie’s occasional romp in a bed with an older man into a daily event.