Chapter 3

Day 30 - Saturday

I went to a party tonight with my parents. It was at the Aiello’s place - beautiful house, huge yard. Becca was there, with Mr. and Mrs. Rivers. She scowled at me when I said hello. “Hey! We’re still friends, right?” I asked in the friendliest voice I could manage. Becca just turned away and stomped off. I guess it runs in the family.

Martin was there, too. He was alone in a remote corner of the back yard, looking at his phone. I walked up to him, with my second glass of champaign in hand.

“What are you up to?” I said.

“Just catching up on some stuff online.” He put his phone in his pocket quickly when I approached. I wondered if he had been looking at the Photo Club site. I decided to probe for more info.

“Probably some nudie pics! Am I right?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t like girls, then?” I teased.

“Oh, I like girls plenty. They just don’t like me,” he said, half-joking.

I responded reflexively. “Pssh. Any girl who doesn’t see what a great guy you are doesn’t deserve you.”

His smile wavered a little. “That’s nice of you to say, Lexi. I really appreciate it. But it’s sort of naive. That’s not how the world works.”

Okay, I admit that Martin is not the sort of guy that girls set out to date. His hair never behaves right and his cloths are usually wrinkled. His body is big in an awkward way that’s not fat, but not athletic. I’ve been in classes with him for years, but never really stopped to think about him. Having read all his comments on the Photo Club, I’ve come to realize that he’s really sweet and really insightful. He never wrote anything mean or crass - just polite compliments for the girls and the photographer.

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I felt like I should think of something - like this should be an eye-opener for me. But the champaign buzz was keeping me from deep thoughts. I put my hand on his shoulder and sat there quietly.

Martin broke the silence. “You know that Ethan is really messed up over you, right?”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing specific. Just that you two were hitting it off but then you started ‘jerking him around’.”

I replied. “That’s not how I’d tell it. But I feel really badly that he feels that way.”

Martin went on: “Well, it’s creating some problems with the other guys. He’s so insistent about how badly you treated him, but he won’t say anything specific. People have started getting sick of it and teasing him about it. That’s just making it worse.”

“I don’t know how to help him,” I said solemnly.

More silence. This time I broke it. “So, tell me about the last girly picture you looked at.”

“Really?” He seemed quite surprised. I nodded. “Well, it was a black-haired girl about our age. She was hiking up her skirt to show her thigh and hips, and very skimpy panties. And she was smiling at me - well, the camera - and giving a thumbs-up. It really did it for me.” He was talking about Mia on the Photo Club site, of course.

“Neat!” I said. “Can you show me?”

“Oh, I don’t remember where I found it.” He lied.

“Where do you go for pictures like that, in general?” I asked.

“Just ... Google.”

More silence. “Well, I should probably get back to the party.” I stood up. “I’m going to think about what you said: about how the world works.”

My head is more clear now that I’m back at home, and I have been thinking about it. Maybe it just takes practice to start thinking of guys like Martin romantically. I forced myself to think about Martin while I masturbated, after the party: him going down on me, and then mounting me, and coming inside of me. I did come, but it was difficult - I was uninspired. My mind kept slipping to other guys.

Day 31 - Sunday

During church, I decided that I’m going to fuck Martin - today if possible. It’s just a matter of willpower: If I put myself in sexy situations with him, then the attraction will follow.

I invited him to hang out and he came over around 3:00. Nobody was home except Jody, the cleaning lady - but she’s cool and she certainly has enough sense to avoid a teenager’s locked bedroom.

Once we were in my room I explained the situation to him. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I really should give you a chance. I want to try to think of you romantically. So if you’re up for it, I was thinking we could make out a little bit.”

“I’d like that,” he said and he took my hands in his. We sat on the edge of the bed and started kissing. He put one hand around my waist and the other on my knee, but then his hands seemed to freeze there. I guess he was afraid of going too fast, but honestly I got bored. I moved his hand to my boob to let him know it was okay. I had changed clothes after church so now I was wearing a light blue polo shirt and tan Capri pants. With the shirt and my bra there was a lot of fabric between my breast and his hands, but he seemed to enjoy the touching and squeezing. His finger tips even found my nipples, and they stiffened up nicely.

I got bored again. “You can undress me if you want,” I told him. He pulled my shirt up over my head and rubbed his hands on my chest and belly. He kissed my neck and the top of my boobs. His fingers traced the boundary between my skin and my bra. Then he wrapped his arms around me and started trying to unhook my bra. He was clearly having trouble with it.

“You want me to...” I started to offer.

“No, I’ll get it. This is an important rite of passage.”

I giggled. “Are these your first breasts?”

“They will be if I can just get this stupid thing unlatched.”

“Then my boobies await your rescue!”

He did eventually unhook my bra, and I lay back on the bed while he squeezed, rubbed, licked, poked, and sucked forever. It was nice. I especially liked it when he sucked my nipples, at least for a while. But again I felt like I had to nudge him along.

“Let’s both get naked,” I said. We both stood and took off our clothes. His cock came to life in my hand after a few strokes. It was a little longer and a little skinnier than Ethan’s, and it bent curiously to the side.

I thought about pulling him on top of me and shoving it in me. I was wet. It was like my body was ready to go, but my spirit was reluctant. Anyway, I hadn’t thought to pick up any condoms.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms, do you?” I asked.

“I ... no.” It’s probably for the best that we didn’t have any; I would have regretted losing my virginity this way.

Plan B: I dropped down to my knees and attempted my first-ever blowjob. At first I grabbed it by the base and licked it for a while. He made some “Mmm” noises, but he also giggled a little. I guess it tickled. I worked my tongue and lips around the head for a while and then got ambitious and wanted to see how deeply I could take it - not very far, as it turns out. I’ve read some articles about giving head, but anything I thought I knew flew out the window; I felt like I was making it all up as I went along. Eventually I was just working the head of his cock with my mouth and stroking the shaft with my hands. He moaned and put his hands in my hair, and we even had a little moment where our eyes met.

But then it just kept going on; I couldn’t make him come. We moved onto the bed and I tried a few different angles. That helped alleviate the fatigue, but that’s all. Eventually I just asked, “Is there something else I should be doing? I want to make you come.”

“I don’t think so,” he said with obvious embarrassment. After a moment he added, “Why don’t we take a break from this?”

Martin wanted to spend some time just touching me: nipples and thighs and hips and face. When I closed my eyes and relaxed it felt good, but when I looked at him, part of my mind kept asking, “What are you doing?” I made it a point to say his name out loud, in part to get me into the right mindset.

Eventually he zeroed in on my pussy and pumped his fingers in and out of me - another first for me. It felt nice, but I wasn’t getting too excited. Then he started kissing and licking my clitoris while fucking me with his fingers. That felt nicer, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere near an orgasm and so eventually I asked him to stop.

We cuddled next to each other for a little while. I said, “I’m sorry I’m not very good at this. I guess sex is harder than I thought.”

He replied, a little bit sad, “No, it’s not you. I think there’s something wrong with me - with my body. Girls take skill and effort, but guys are supposed to be easy.”

“Can you come when you masturbate?” I asked.

“Well, yeah.” He seemed embarrassed, which I thought was silly.

“Maybe you can get yourself most of the way, and I can finish you off?” I suggested. “Here. Show me how you do it.”

He freed his arm from between us and started touching himself. His dick had gone soft during the cuddling, but it quickly became rigid after a little tugging. I studied his technique and asked questions. I took a turn wanking him from beside him and we worked out some guidelines for speed and grip pressure.

“I want to try something,” I said, and I repositioned myself. I lay on my back on the opposite side of the bed, my legs on top of his, and pushed my butt up against his. His balls were resting on my bush, and his dick was standing up straight, just inside of arm’s reach. I reached out and started wanking my surrogate penis with just my wrist, resting my arm on my thigh. Martin moaned and it looked like he was getting more and more excited.

My arm did get tired, so I told him to take over. He grabbed it without missing a beat. I stood up between his legs and put on a show. I danced, rubbed my hands all over my body, stuck my ass out at him - every saucy thing I could think of. His face was priceless.

Shortly, he told me, “I’m almost there.” I dropped back down to my elbows and knees and sucked him the rest of the way to his orgasm. I had thought I was prepared to capture all of his come and swallow it, but most of it dribbled out and got on my hands and his balls. I licked enough of it up to avoid a mess.

“Oh god. Thank you Lexi,” Martin said, gasping. I went back to cuddling next to him and we lay in silence for a while.

“Martin?” I began with a casual inquisitive voice. “Who runs St. Frances Photo Club?”

“How did you find out about that?” He responded, nervously.

I chose my words carefully to set up my next gambit. “I saw it on someone’s laptop over their shoulder one day. I don’t mind - boys will be boys. I mean, it’s cool if you guys look at that stuff. But it makes me nervous to think that someone might hack the server and release pictures of my friends to a sea of Internet pervs who know what school we go to, you know what I mean? I just want to feel reassured that it’s secure. I haven’t told anyone about it.”