Chapter 4: My Boyfriend’s Back

GOD! IS THERE ANYTHING more perverted than a sixteen-year-old boy? I doubt it. After dinner, I headed straight for my room and started processing the film I’d shot of Judy and Janice. Yeah. Before I did anything else. As soon as it was dry, I cut it into strips and laid them out on a sheet of photo paper. I made a contact print and waited impatiently for it to dry while I went to take a shower. I considered taking care of my cock in the shower, but Kat was already banging at the door to get in for her nighttime routine.

I went back to my room and used a loupe to examine the contact sheet. Oh, yeah. I chose two shots to print enlargements of and headed back into the darkroom. Man, it was hot in there. It had been ninety degrees out today and having my windows open didn’t help keep my room cool. I’d need another shower by the time I finished developing the enlargements. I finally had them out of the fixative and in the bathroom to rinse. Everyone else was in bed now and I knew I was rushing the process a little, so I made sure to get the prints well rinsed.

I took my towel into my bedroom and shut the door tightly, then laid the damp prints out on the towel to really look at. One of the prints I chose was of the two girls floating side-by-side on their backs. I was going to enjoy printing the one of them on their stomachs, too. They had nice little butts sticking up out of the water. But for tonight, I wanted the front image. Perfect. There were two nice sets of titties pointing at the sky, hard nipples tenting the fabric of their swimming suits. I swear that I could see the complete outline and difference in shading of Janice’s whole areola and nipple. Judy’s were puffier, but her suit was more opaque. The suits of both girls clung to their crotches like a second skin; I could even see the slight texture change where their pubic hair was matted under the fabric. And Janice’s navel, filled with water. I could just imagine drinking from it.

The other print was of the two girls standing, facing a quarter to their right. This picture was great for showing the shape of their breasts and how they stuck out from their chests. I just wanted to touch those titties. Instead, I was looking at the two photos as I stroked my cock. I imagined what it would have been like to be in the pool with them. Holding Janice. Sliding my hands inside her top.

My first come hit me in the chin. I was careful not to get any on the prints. But one come wasn’t enough. There were two girls and I switched my focus to Judy. I remembered how she’d given me permission to look at her nipples while we sat looking at the prints. At least I took it as permission. I sure looked. I thought first about sliding my hands through the cutouts on the side of her suit and moving up to feel the hard points of her nipples in my hands. Then I’d move down and play with her hidden navel. But my goal was farther down yet. I imagined pushing her suit away as my fingers reached her short hairs and found the soft little cleft there.

My second come was just as powerful as the first. I laid the two prints on my desk to finish drying and used my towel to wipe up the globs of come from my chest and hands and the floor. Then I went to bed and stroked off another one, just so I could get to sleep.

One of the things Mr. Harris taught me was to keep a log of what I printed and the parameters I used. The enlarger has almost as many settings as my camera, even though it’s old and a lot simpler than some newer ones. It slid up and down on a pole that would change how much of the negative was exposed to the paper. The higher up the pole, the bigger the image was. Once I got the part of the image I wanted, I had to focus the lens. Then there were various filters I could use to limit the range of light being exposed. And I had to control the length of time for the exposure. The bigger the enlargement—that is the farther away the negative was—the longer it had to be exposed because the light would diffuse as it got farther away. I was looking forward to the day when I could get an enlarger with f/stops to work with, but right now, this was about all I could handle.

I had several mattes as well that blocked light from a part of the paper. I used those to crop to standard sizes, like 8x10 or 5x7. Laying the film directly on the paper and exposing it to the light made a series of little images the same size as the frames on the film. I did that for proofs so I didn’t have to make a print of every picture on the roll in order to decide which one to enlarge.

In the clear light of non-horniness in the morning, I examined my two prints more critically. There was nothing ‘wrong’ with them and they were probably about the same quality as I’d get if I dropped the film at a photo processor and picked up the prints a few days later. But I could see right away that there were things I could do to improve the prints. It was a sloppy cropping job for one thing. The girls’ heads were slightly trimmed off and there was a lot of grass beneath their feet. Well, obviously, the part of the image I was most interested in was between those two, but I’d never just enlarge their breasts so that was all that was in the image. I don’t think. Maybe. They needed to be exposed a little longer, and...

These weren’t show-quality prints. But they were really only going to be for my personal enjoyment anyway. If I were going to caption them, it would probably be something like ‘fantasy at play.’ I needed to work on getting sexy photos like these that told more of a story rather than looking like backyard snaps. Which is what they were. I carefully put them in one of my folios, along with the printing info and slid the negatives into sleeves that I dated and noted the subject. Then I headed out for my day-job: motorcycle refinisher.

I was working in the garage on Friday afternoon, running the disk sander over the roughest spots on the frame, when I became aware of someone else in the garage. I shut off the sander and looked up. Patricia was standing in the doorway watching me. I took off my goggles and mask to greet her.

“Hi. What brings you around?” I asked.

“Boredom. Thought I’d stop by and see how the job was going. That way, I can pretend to be checking up on my boyfriend’s wheels and looking out for his best interests,” she said, coming on into the garage to look more closely at what I’d been working on.

“You can pretend all that? While really doing what? It looks like you’re checking up on things,” I laughed.

“Well, I am. But I thought if I hung around for a while, you might get your camera out. I told you I was okay with you taking pictures.”

“That would be cool, too. Want a glass of water? I was just about to go get one. You can take a good look at the work while I get it. I’ll pick up my camera, too,” I said.

“Sure. Okay.”

She busied herself running her fingers over the frame while I went in the house. I wasn’t gone long, but when I got back to the garage, she wasn’t there. I set the water on the workbench and my camera on a shelf. Then I saw that my bike was missing.

A minute later, she came skidding into the drive and brought the bike back into the garage where it had been.

“I love pumping up on that bike. It would be better if the seat was a little lower, though.”

“Well, next time you ask to ride it, I’ll adjust the seat for you,” I laughed. “If you just take off on it, you’ll have to suffer with it at my height.” I was only a scratch under six feet and was wishing my body would hurry up and grow that other half inch. Patricia was probably about five-three.

“For me?” she asked, pointing at a glass of water.

“Yeah. This hot weather in a hot garage really gets me thirsty.” I took my glass and she shoved a couple of things aside on the workbench. Then she hopped up and sat on it to take a drink. “That’s a good one,” I said as I grabbed my camera. She posed and preened as she sat on the workbench and I got a couple of cool shots. I had a work light on and it really caught her in bright light on one side and fading into shadow on the other.

“Just a minute,” she said.

She set her water glass down and started unbuttoning her shirt. Wow! I caught a picture of that, too. She was wearing a kind of sleeveless chambray and a pair of cutoffs. As she opened her shirt, I was treated to her bikini clad breasts. So nice!

“I said you could take a picture in my bikini. Isn’t that better?”

“It’s great,” I said.

I started thinking about ways to have her pose that would give me a great view of what she was showing. I quickly cleared the rest of the stuff from the workbench.

“How about putting your feet up on the bench and leaning back on one arm while you look at me?”

“Like this?” she asked, following my instructions. It was good. I moved my work light a little and it really highlighted the shape of her breasts. I took a picture. She picked up her water glass and started rubbing it across her shoulders as she threw her head back. Oh, boy. The longed-for nipple pop. They were pushing out against the fabric and she looked like a calendar girl.

I think it was an accident when she spilled some of the ice water on her top. She started and then giggled.

“Just makes you look sexier,” I said. She made a face, winking at me as she stretched and thrust her chest out further. I don’t think there was even a lining in that top. Her nipple was so clear I thought I could see it right through the fabric.

“Let me get really sexy,” she said. She sat up and unfastened her shorts I got a shot of her pulling the zipper down. Then she pulled them off and was sitting on the bench in the bikini bottoms as well as the top. They were shorter than I thought at the river. Her cheeks were showing.

She was a natural model, crawling around on the bench and striking various poses as I shot the film.

“Here. How about this?” she said, hopping off the bench. She grabbed my goggles and put them on so they were perched on her head. Then she took the sander and approached the bike. Bent over a little so she could pretend to sand the frame, I could see down the middle of her top. I reached out to her and she looked up at me.

“Um ... I just want ... your strap...”

“Just do it, idiot,” she smirked.

I touched her shoulder and pulled the strap of her bikini down so it was off her shoulder. Nothing more than that. I mean, maybe it exposed a little more of the top of her breast, but the effect of it looking like her top just slipped as she was sanding was great.

“Wait. Give me my water,” she said.

I thought she wanted a drink. Instead, she poured the rest of her water down her front and bent over the frame again. The effect of the water dripping off the slope of her breast looked like she was sweating. The fabric clinging to her. Then there was the shape of her butt as she bent over. Wow! I clicked the last shot on the roll and just took a moment to look at her. Having the camera out from between us gave me a new appreciation for what I was seeing. A pretty girl in a wet bikini was in my shop about three feet away from me. She saw me put the camera down and straightened up, pulling the goggles off, and setting down the sander. She grabbed her shorts and pulled them on.

“So, is there anything I can actually do to help?” she asked. I pulled myself back to reality. This was Tony’s girlfriend, not mine.

“You really want to help? Sure. The tank is ready for handwork with ultra-fine sandpaper. You can work on that if you want.”

“That way, when I give Tony my picture, I can tell him what I did to help.”

“You’re going to give him the picture?” I asked.

“Yeah. Choose a good one. I want him to think of me working on his bike every time he looks at it.”

“I can do that.”

We went to work. I noticed that she didn’t put her shirt back on and never got around to fastening and zipping her shorts. They just kind of hung there like a promise. I could have taken pictures of her all afternoon.

There was a big difference between taking pictures of Patricia and taking pictures of Judy and Janice. Patricia was a natural model. She worked the poses as I took pictures and often came up with ideas for little adjustments that made them work. I could set a scene and she went from there with the poses. Judy and Janice got into whatever position I directed them to and held it pretty steady, but they weren’t involved in the creativity part of it. I wished I could spend a few days just photographing Patricia.

That wasn’t the only time she came over to work on the bike. We didn’t have an all-out photo session each time she came over, but I did get a few nice pictures of her in different work clothes. And it turned out she was a big help, especially when it came to the polishing of the metal so it was ready for paint. I couldn’t strip the entire bike unless I took it to Chicago and had it dipped. That would cost a fortune I didn’t have and Tony wouldn’t pay for. But we made sure everything was feathered in, the filler was smooth where I applied it, and it was ready for primer.

Dad got the engine tuned about the same time I started spraying the frame. I hung visqueen around my work area to cut down on spatter where it wasn’t wanted, but Dad warned me to make sure Mom’s car was at the end of the driveway before I started spraying. Even the primer made the bike look good. By Friday, I was ready to spray the finish coat.

“When’s Tony going to be back?” I asked Patricia Friday afternoon. “I half expected to see him here this afternoon.”

“When they left, they said they’d be back Sunday. You don’t know Tony’s parents, though,” she said.

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, better if Tony tells you, but basically his mom and dad and little sister and him were kind of like gypsies. Until Tony got here in ninth grade, they’d all lived in the back of a station wagon. They’d drive around for a while until they found a place where his dad could get work for a while, then they’d pack up and drive someplace else. When they lit here, they got some news that made them settle down. They live in a trailer on one of the farms just outside of town now.”

“Wow! That’s a tough life.”

“Yeah. He had a reputation before he ever moved to town. Anyway, when his parents say road trip and announce they’ll be gone for two weeks, it could be a month if something interests them.”

“What’s his dad do for a living now?”

“Construction. I guess he’s like one of the top finish carpenters in the area. So, this summer, there’s a big building development going on this side of Huntertown. When he gets back, there will be a bunch of houses ready for finish work and cabinetry inside.”

“That’s cool. A guy with real skill.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t own a tape measure or any power tools. He built a garage for the farmer where he’s got his trailer parked. Ordered the lumber, staked out the foundation, and just started building. Mr. Packard has had a lot of people out to look at his garage. It’s perfect. All square, exactly the right size for his two cars, and finished tight. And Mr. Kowalski never once measured anything. He’d just grab a board, saw it to the length he wanted, and nail it in place.”

“That’s wicked!”

“I think you’re a lot like him. Probably why Tony likes you.”

“How do you mean?”

“How many bicycles have you refinished and painted?”

“Just that one,” I said.

“And yet, when Tony asked if you could refinish his motorcycle, you didn’t even hesitate. You just said sure and went about doing it. I haven’t seen any big books of instructions lying around. You just got the things you needed and did it.”

“Well, my dad is pretty good at a lot of things. He gave me some pretty good instructions.”

“Yeah. Well, I want to go for a ride. Will you adjust your bicycle seat for me? I’ll probably be back by the time you finish spraying. I don’t want to be around here before that. It stinks,” Patricia said, wheeling my bike over.

I laughed and got her up on the pedals while I used my wrenches to loosen the post and move the seat down to a better level for her. I had the rear wheel between my legs and Patricia’s butt almost in my hands and face as I tightened down the nuts.