Chapter 27: Jeffy And Marla, And A Summer Job

My mother was up when I came in, even though it was late. She always stayed up till we came home. Since I had been given a pass on the curfew, I didn’t get a lecture, but she asked if I’d had a good time, was anybody she knew there, and so on. I gave her some names I thought she knew, and she was happy.

“I think I’m going to collapse, Mom. See you in the morning.” And in fact I was close to collapse, it felt like. Those were a strenuous few hours. Fun, but wearing. Whoever she wound up marrying, I don’t think they’d be able to keep up with her.

I pulled the covers up over me and tried to settle in to sleep, but my mind was still spinning. I learned some things tonight.

I encountered that ... I don’t know what to call it, the ‘pleasure meter’ that exists in her head and tells me how well the thing I’m doing matches what turns her on. By watching that, I could adjust to the right pressure, direction, the point on the body that arouses her best. It was new,, and I didn’t fully understand it yet.

Second was the idea of naming each of these effects. It helped me remember which was which, and they could be recalled and applied more quickly.

I found also that the obvious way to linkcast a series of orgasms, namely increasing each in intensity or length, was the wrong way to do it, that it could get out of hand and become too powerful too soon. Something more measured was needed.

I also encountered that odd shared connection when we were both aroused and about to cum. We felt each others’ -- well, at least I felt hers -- sensations, like we were sharing the orgasm and cumming the same way. And I discovered that channeling really does last for awhile, at least an hour. I’d need to experiment in more detail to determine exactly how long the effect lasts.

I chanced across that neat trick of linkcasting an image, a feeling, a type of orgasm, and having it not take place immediately but only when it was triggered, for example by sticking my finger in her ass to set it off. That was useful.

Lastly, and I thought most important, was the concept of establishing a heightened state of awareness, of sensitizing the skin and amplifying the senses. If I was reading this correctly, this is the type of sustained orgasmic state that women are looking for, supplemented by occasional waves of pleasure.

All in all, a productive evening. A very hot, sexy, exhausting evening, but productive, too. And now I’ve got some homework to do to try to figure this out. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m tired.

I wonder how Jeffy did with young Marla on his date? I’m sure he’ll be here early if there is something worth telling.

I wasn’t wrong. Jeffy was knocking on the door by ten. I had just gotten up and was headed to the shower when my mother sent him up. He couldn’t wait to tell me, but I raised a hand like a traffic cop.

“Jeffy, if I don’t take a shower right now, this minute, there will be a petition going around the neighborhood. I see pitchforks and torches and angry peasants in my future. And after the shower I need coffee before I can assimilate information. So you sit here and wait, I’ll be back shortly.”

He looked like he was holding in an urgent need to pee, so desperate was he to tell me. I could almost write it myself, but I’ll let him tell it.

The shower restored a semblance of civility to me, and I went back to my room to dress. Jeffy was practically hopping from one foot to the other in his eagerness to declaim.

“Follow me,” I told him and headed down to the kitchen where -- Thank you! -- there was coffee made. I poured a cup and made a ‘come with me’ signal to Jeffy and walked out to the back yard, far enough away that we couldn’t be overheard.

“Tell me,” I said and took another sip of coffee. He couldn’t get it out fast enough.

“So I took her to the movies, and it was one of those romantic films where the lovers have to break up at the end and part forever, and I knew she’d get off on that sappy stuff, and the actress was kinda hot. Anyway, about halfway through when it started getting sad she started crying a little, so I put my arm around her and she leaned into me with her head on my shoulder and, get this, she put her hand on my leg.

“And then when the movie got really sad and the girl’s father plots to break them apart so she can marry his friend’s son, she gets all weepy and leans into me even more and my hand falls off her shoulder and under her arm, and I got boob! And not just a little feel, this was fondle and squeeze and rub, and I could feel her nipple! And her nipple was getting hard!”

I looked at him enviously. I hope it looked envious, that’s what I was trying for. “Then what happened,” I said. The envious look must have worked, because he went on.

“This is the best part, Carter. No, it’s not, this is the second best part, the best part comes later! So the lovers are saying their last goodbyes on the screen and she looks up at me with tears in her eyes, and I know what she wants, so I lean down and kiss her. And Carter, there was tongue again.

“And -- wait for it -- while I’m kissing her with my tongue she starts rubbing my dick through my pants. Geez, I thought I was gonna cum right there.

“So the movie ends and she’s still got tears rolling down her face, and I have to walk her home because she’s got curfew and we walked real close all the way home with her talking about how sad and tragic the story was and how she didn’t think she’d be able to break up with the guy she really loved, and so on. I let her talk.

“So we get to her house and I get her to stop by the side of the garage away from the house where we can’t be seen and I start kissing her again and she’s kissing back, like really sucking my tongue, she’s got a strong tongue, and I kinda get my hands rubbing over her butt and she’s making these little noises in her throat, so I start squeezing it, then I bring one hand around and, get this, I get it under her dress and slide all the way up the inside of her leg until I get to between her legs. I felt her panties, Carter! And I rubbed between her legs and she starts breathing real fast and I slide my hand under her panties. Carter, I felt pussy! It was amazing.

“I thought she was gonna cum right there, but at the last minute she pulls my hand away and tells me she can’t, her parents might hear. And I say I’m all worked up now and I really like you, Marla, I wish you wouldn’t leave me like this. So she looks at me and makes me promise to be really, really quiet, and are you ready, Carter?”

He looks at me expectantly, so I nod and say, “Go on, go on.”

“And then, Carter, she unzips my pants and searches around inside until she finds my dick and takes it out and starts jerking me off. She keeps whispering to me to be quiet while she’s pumping my dick and when I tell her I’m gonna cum she aims it at the garage and I must’ve shot like six feet. It was all I could do to keep from yelling. Can you imagine her father coming outside at that moment and finding my stiff dick in his daughter’s hand? Carter, it was epic!”

“Jeffy, I always knew you’d be the first. You give the rest of us hope. Way to go, man. So, are you gonna see her again?”

“I sure hope so, but she’s got this curfew so I don’t know when we can be alone. I’d really like to see her body. I’ll bet she’s hot under those clothes.”

“I know she is, Jeffy, and it’s just a matter of time till you get there. Be patient, my man. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“Thanks, Carter. Look, I gotta go find Frankie and tell him, but I wanted to tell you first. Talk to you later,” and he ran off.

Good timing. My coffee cup was empty, time for a refill.

I was chuckling to myself as I went for my second cup. I was amused because I would have been exactly where Jeffy was had I not had that accident, the one that changed my life. I would have been a conquering hero among my friends if I could have said “I felt Kathy’s boob”, or “Emmy let me touch her butt”, or the ultimate hole card to amaze your friends, “Arlene gave me a handjob!” I would have been treated like a god.

So I cheered them all on. And I realized now, via the benefit of having spies in the enemy camp, that girls also traded that information among their friends of who did what with whom, and how far did they go, and what it was like.

Over my second cup of coffee, I had the sudden realization that I did not have to prepare for school tomorrow. It was the beginning of vacation. It was wonderful, two and a half months of no responsibilities. And as soon as I said it, I was feeling a little ashamed. I had all this time and I was going to waste it.

I think this was Karen’s subtle influence. She probably had a study plan all worked out for the summer. I wondered if she was going to work at her uncle’s book store again. I had forgotten to ask her. Maybe I should have a study plan. Maybe I should get a job so I’d have a little extra money. The meal at the diner with Angie had almost broken me for the week, I’d have to be careful what I spent.

I wondered what I should study this summer, assuming I wanted to do so. I already knew most of the math stuff they taught in high school, algebra and geometry and trig. If I could test out of those subjects maybe I could get credit for some self-study next term, or take a college math course. I’d done some differential calculus in one variable on my own, though I needed to do some more work on integral calculus. And I hadn’t done anything with multi-variable calculus. Maybe that should be my plan.

I got the Sunday paper and idly looked through the help-wanted for summer jobs but didn’t see much beyond selling magazines door to door, or working at the car wash. I’d ask around tomorrow. Given how I felt today, I thought the most productive use of my afternoon was sitting in a chair in the back yard and reading a book. So I did.

Monday I read some more and cleaned up my leftover papers and notebooks from last term. I thought I would go to an earlier class at Kim’s, so I’d have my evening free. I found some leftovers in the fridge and put something in my stomach, grabbed my exercise bag and bicycled to Kim’s. I was early and still a little hungry. As I passed a small fruit-and-vegetable store not far from Kim’s I got an urge for an apple. That must be Karen’s influence again.

I parked the bike and walked in carrying my exercise bag. I looked around till I saw the display with apples and pears and selected a couple of Rome apples.

At the cashier I had to put my bag down to fish out my money and the guy behind the counter said, “I’ve seen you around. Don’t you go to Kim’s martial arts school?” He spoke very good English but there was an accent there showing it was not his native tongue. He was writing something with markers on a cardboard square.

“Yes sir,” I said, “I’ve been going there for about a year, a couple of times a week.” I passed him the money.

“Kim’s a nice guy. We immigrants kind of stick together, help each other out when we can. You like that martial arts stuff?”

“I do,” I said. “I didn’t think it would work, because I’m not a big guy, or strong, but it turns out it was designed exactly for people like us, so us pipsqueaks can defend ourselves. And it’s helped me out of a couple of tight spots.”

“If I had time I’d maybe try it myself, but there’s always so much to do around here I don’t have the time. That’s why I’m putting up the sign.” He turned it around so I could see it. “Help Wanted, part-time”.

I’ll make it short. I told him I had been looking for work, and part-time would be perfect and very convenient since it was so close to Kim’s where I would be going anyway. He said I looked dedicated and I was certainly hard-working if I could do that martial arts stuff, so if I wanted the job, I could have it.

I did, we shook hands, he tore up the sign, and told me I’d work noon till four, Monday through Thursday. It didn’t pay a lot, but it would be enough for spending money. I could start tomorrow.

His name was Marco Rodriguez, and I’d estimate he was about forty now. His parents immigrated from Mexico when he was ten, and he eventually became a naturalized citizen. He opened this store because he didn’t want to work for somebody else. He’d worked long hours, but made an adequate living and was putting his son through college in California.

His parents spoke little English, so he always spoke Spanish to them. His father sometimes came to the store to ‘help out’, but mostly he sat behind the register and drank coffee, and he and Marco would chat in Spanish.