Chapter 2

My fifteenth birthday was the day before school started. Ninth grade. I was in high school!

It had been a wonderful summer. Mrs. Santos -- Angelica -- had managed to find a few more times when she could get away from her husband and I could get away from my mother (who seemed to be getting jealous or something about the time I spent at the pool) so we could go visit her “beautiful park”.

In a way, that was a little frustrating. There we would kiss and pet, but she would only suck me off. I really wanted to try full sex, but she would not allow it. I’m not sure if it was because she was worried about getting caught by bypassers (or even the cops), or if she was afraid she might get pregnant or something. I could tell she wanted to almost as much as me, but she very nicely put me off each time.

What the hell, I was a fourteen year old boy making out with a beautiful woman, so I really couldn’t complain. I was happy to do whatever she allowed. The first time she let me open her blouse and fondle and suck on her tits was incredible. For me, that was like licking a mound of sweet chocolate, only without putting on any body fat. Her excited nipples would stick out nearly an inch, and she moaned sweetly as she taught me how to lick and suck on those sensitive teats and nibble around the edges without hurting her.

Our last time that summer she finally let me get into her panties. Well, my hand at least. I couldn’t believe I was actually stroking this gorgeous woman’s pussy! Her little hairs were soft and delicate, and it shocked me how wet she was. I just had to taste her essence, and it was like nectar for a god as I licked it off my fingers.

She looked at me in amazement. “Dios mio, Carlos has never tasted my pussy!”

I couldn’t believe it. “Your husband has never licked you down there like you lick me?”

“No. Never.”

“Please let me do that for you,” I begged. “And then fuck you. Please?”

“Lo siento, Marco mio, but no. I’m very sorry,” she said sincerely. She actually apologized to me!

Before I could beg her again she gobbled down my aching rod like it was manna from heaven and was the last meal she would ever enjoy. By that time I had learned how to control my excitement a lot more, and it took her more than fifteen minutes to get me off. It was hard to remember to keep a watch for other people when she was sending me off to a world of my own.

At the pool, it soon became apparent that some of the girls were much more interested in me than before. Some of them would pose for me as they came out of the water, whereas several others would openly flirt. I had known many of them most of my life, and I still couldn’t figure out what had changed.

One of them was Marcy Meuse, but most of the other kids called her “Marcy Mouse” because she was small, quiet, and -- well, mousy. Plain straight brown hair, thin, flat-chested, and a face you would never remember other than the huge glasses covering her large, brown eyes. She did have nice, full, sensuous lips, but that seemed about the extent of her attractiveness. I was surprised she made it a point to talk with me, because she never seemed to talk with anyone in more than a few monosyllables even though we were in the same grade. But she was very sweet, so I was polite to her.

A few girls were actually more aggressive about pursuing me, including Kim Lee and Opal White. They were both varsity cheerleaders. It kind of shocked me that girls who were two or three grades ahead of me could even bother to notice. If it hadn’t been for Angelica proving that ‘older women’ could seriously be interested in me, I might have dismissed their actions as being teen tease queens.

When I got back to school, things got even weirder. During the first week Ms. Stein, who was my English teacher, told the class to write an introductory essay. It could be about what you had done over your summer vacation or your favorite hobby. I sure as hell wasn’t going to describe what I had done during the summer (although I thought about it a lot), so I wrote a couple of pages describing the joy and benefits of martial arts.

Ms. Stein was a stereotypical German goddess. In her mid-twenties, she was an inch or two taller than me, although I had put on another inch in the past year. She had a full but not thick figure topped by immense breasts. Her golden hair was cut short, almost boyishly so, which accentuated the golden glow of her alabaster skin. Her long legs were never on display, as she typically wore baggy clothes to hide her figure and not attract attention. All of the boys still drooled over her (me included), but she had nothing but disdain for us. Although Ms. Stein’s steely-blue eyes were as cold as a Bavarian lake when talking to male students, they lit up warmly when talking about literature and great writers. All the kids called her the Ice Queen.

A week later she handed us back our papers. I didn’t think I had written a great paper, but she gave me an ‘A’. I was quite pleased about that.

A few minutes later I was shocked when, as I was about to leave the classroom, she said: “Mark, could I speak to you about your essay for a minute?”

“Uh, sure, Ms. Stein,” I agreed.

The Ice Queen was actually deigning to speak with me -- alone! Not only that, but we had second period break, so it would be at least fifteen minutes before anyone else came in. My head was spinning as I went to her desk. What had I done wrong?

“Yes, Ms. Stein?”

“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was by your essay,” she said sincerely.

“Oh. Uh, thank you.”

I don’t know what she expected, but she gave a tiny frown as though I was somehow making this difficult for her. But she kept her voice very sweet as she continued.

“Most of the other boys talk about their football achievements, or perhaps basketball. They brag about their physical prowess, all the games they won and how they have great hopes for future glory in the sport.” She scoffed. “Some of them actually brag about showing off in the swimming pool over the summer and their so-called ‘female conquests’.”

I smiled weakly. “Oh?”

“Yes,” she assured me with a grimace, before she smiled again. “But you, Mark, wrote about the beautiful feelings of freedom and grace with your martial arts. About how it helped to shape your mind and your spirit ... and your body. Nothing about your skills or accomplishments.”

My mind was in a muddle. “Well, uh, sure. I mean, that’s how I feel about it.”

Her smile deepened, becoming almost mysterious. She leaned forward and touched my hand lightly. “I’m sure you really do, Mark.”

An electric shock ran through me. Was Ms. Stein really coming on to me? It was unthinkable.

But, as her soft touch lingered, and her brilliant blue eyes burned into mine, it became quite thinkable.

“Well, uh, I’m real glad you liked it, Ms. Stein.”

“So am I, Mark. I look forward to seeing more ... I mean, reading more of your work. Very soon.”

I had to get out of there before I came in my pants.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I look forward to it too, Ms. Stein. But I gotta get to my next class now.”

She leaned back into her chair. “Of course.” Her voice was now much more professional, more like her usual self. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Right. Oh, uh, right. Until tomorrow.”

I don’t know if I stumbled out of her room or floated. What in the world was going on?

Somehow I made it to my French class. I sat there totally bewildered.

Normally, my eyes were fixated on Ms. Dague, a French woman who was also in her mid-twenties. She had the most charming little pixie face I had ever seen and long, dark hair. She spoke with the lilting accent so common to the French people I heard in the movies. Her body was thin and delicate, with small breasts that only displayed their nice shape because she wore tiny, wispy dresses at all times during the year, except during the coldest days. On this day, however, I could only stare at the wall, wondering what was happening. While it was in many ways enjoyable, my life seemed to be spinning into a surrealistic dreamland.

Perhaps it was my imagination, or maybe my befuddled state of mind, but I thought I noticed Ms. Dague smiling at me more than usual. But that was crazy. Well, certainly no more crazy than what had happened in Ms. Stein’s room.

I came out of French class still walking in a daze. I slowly walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria to get lunch. Then my day went totally Salvador Dali on me.

Kim Lee and Opal White met me at the cafeteria door, and it sounded like they were seriously squabbling over me.

“I knew him first,” Kim said as she grabbed my arm.

“That’s because you’re older,” Opal insisted as she grabbed my other arm. “But I was friendlier when we were just kids.”

I thought that was kind of funny as Opal was seventeen while Kim had just turned eighteen, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.

“Hah!” Kim scoffed. “You told me he was a total dweeb.”

“When he was still in middle school!” Opal protested. “Anyhow, I was friendlier at the pool this summer.”

“I was very friendly too!” Kim insisted.

“Okay, Mark,” Opal demanded of me, “which one of us do you like best?”

“What? Uh, I like you both the same.”

“Which one of us is prettier?” Kim asked, giving me a coquettish smile.

I groaned inwardly. What was I supposed to say?

“Uh, you’re both very different. But both very pretty,” I hastened to add.

“Oh, no, that’s not gonna cut it,” Opal said. “You have to choose.”

“Why? How could I possibly choose?”

By now we were starting to draw a crowd in spite of the kids pushing past to get into the cafeteria. Both girls noticed as well, and they gave each other a look.

“I know,” Kim said. “We’ll go to the locker and have it out. Are you game?”

“Game on,” Opal agreed.

We were going to one of their lockers? To do what? But I was still too stunned to say a word as they clamped harder on to my arms and led me down the hallway.

They actually led me to a private room outside of the girl’s gym. When we got inside, Opal locked the door.

“This is the locker?” I squeaked, stunned to be locked in a private space with the two of them. There were indeed lockers in the room, as well as some benches and showers.

Kim smirked. “We cheerleaders actually call it the strip joint, but we couldn’t say that in front of the other kids, could we?”

“Huh. Well, I guess not. I didn’t even know this was here.”

“It’s the cheerleading squad room,” Opal explained. “Because we practice and cheer all year long for the different sports, the main girl’s locker room is often too crowded, so they built us this private room.”

“Yeah,” Kim smiled coyly at me. “Imagine a dozen JV cheerleaders and alternates, and a dozen varsity cheerleaders plus alternates, prancing around naked in our own private locker room. Wouldn’t any guy love to be able to stand where you are and watch that show?”

I tried to imagine it, but I failed. Up to this point I had only seen one girl -- well, woman -- half undressed. “Oh. Uh, that would be pretty cool, I guess.”

“Very cool,” Kim grinned. “Especially when we have our, uh, private parties.”