Chapter 4

The next morning was a day to sleep in, it being Saturday, but of course that didn't happen with Claire and the posse in the house. They were particularly charged up that morning because two of their number were no longer virgins and one of those had forfeited that virginity within range of the hearing of the rest, only the night before. I didn't know they had actually been in the hallway, listening to Large Marge moan her way through a couple of orgasms while her virgin pussy got all sloppy with my sperm.

But, I was sure they all knew what had happened.

Some of you might be thinking that I'd have wanted to be up and strutting around, like a rooster in the barnyard, all proud of what I'd done. But you have to remember that, up until this time, the relationship between the posse and me had been adversarial in nature. I picked on them ... and they tried to make my life miserable in return. And, Marge hadn't wanted to stay around and cuddle, so it wasn't like I had found love or anything. Even though they, including Claire, were all quite sure I had stuffed many a pussy full of my hard prick, I still wasn't at all used to the idea that I had actually had sex with a girl. Two, if you count my sister, and that was pretty weird to think about too. So I tried to stay in bed, hoping they'd all leave and go somewhere.

It was not to be.

Claire barged into my room - that was getting to be an annoying routine, it seemed - and I could hear the girls out in the hallway tittering, though at least they didn't follow her in.

"Get up lazy bones!" Claire shouted gleefully. I told myself that was a good sign. She was happy, and that meant I had made Marge, and by extension, the rest of the posse, happy too. That was confirmed when Claire leaned over and whispered in my blanket-covered ear.

"You did good last night."

Her incorrect English notwithstanding, I felt a little better, but was still averse to facing a bunch of girls who knew what "good" I had done. But you can't deflect a fifteen year old girl by saying, "I can't possibly face all those girls." It just isn't done. Not if you're a guy. I did manage to get her to leave by promising I'd get up and appear at breakfast.

I tried to take as long as I could to get a shower and get dressed, hoping that they'd all be done eating by the time I got there, but they dawdled with their food, probably thinking I was trying to build up the suspense for a triumphal entry. I was suddenly the star attraction in the Hopkins household. I didn't realize how much until I went into the kitchen.

They were all still in their pajamas and, before I arrived, were all chattering like Magpies. That stopped as soon as I walked in the room. My mother, working at the stove, even turned around to see why everybody had suddenly gone silent. She saw me and raised an eyebrow, but she was used to the girls treating me like a pariah, and just turned back around to tend the eggs.

"Good morning Bobby," said Marge. There was a burst of giggles and Mom turned back around. This kind of behavior did not fit into her expectations.

I managed a whole one-word sentence. "Hi."

The girls scooted around to make room for me at the table. There was no chair, so I'd have to stand, but they made room. My mother's eyebrow rose again. She wasn't a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn't have enough information to arrive at any unhappy conclusions, so eventually she shrugged and turned back to the eggs, which were really well done by then.

The silence went on and it might have gotten really uncomfortable if my father hadn't walked in. He looked around and said, "I love Saturdays! Especially when my house is filled with beautiful women." He loved to compliment the posse and they loved him for it.

That got giggles and conversation going again and two of the girls shared one chair so he could sit down. I might be a sex machine but I didn't rate my own chair. Other than a lot of interesting looks from all those girls, including my sister, breakfast concluded without much further ado.

But those interesting looks were powerful. You know how women complain all the time about how men look at them? They complain that men undress them with their eyes and all that stuff. Right?

Well I can tell you I know what that feels like. All of those girls were looking at me like I was one of those modern paintings you see where you can't figure out what it's actually a picture of. And somebody comes along and says "Isn't it wonderful?" And, of course, you don't want to sound like an idiot so you come up with some lame response like, "Yes ... so expressive." But you still don't understand it, and it's particularly upsetting when it appears someone else does!

Anyway, the girls were looking at me like that, and Large Marge was the one who had said, "Isn't it wonderful?"

A week ago, if I'd have looked at the girls like that, Claire would have been complaining to our mother. Girls don't like to be looked at like that.

But what I can't understand is why women complain about that. I mean they fix themselves all up with makeup and slinky clothes and a nice hairdo and all that, and they look all luscious and edible, like they were a piece of pie. Come to think of it, maybe that's where the term "Cheesecake" came from.

Anyway, I sort of liked it, because it was obvious none of them were actually repelled or anything. Knobby Robby looked pretty disgusted, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with me exactly. I mean when she looked at me she didn't frown, or grimace or anything. But, there was something different in her eyes when she looked at me. She ate like she was miffed about something, though. I decided not to worry about it and just enjoyed being the center of attention. Even though none of them were saying anything to me.

I didn't have anything to do that morning, and planned on another session with Mr. Heinlein's book, but cartoons were first. I always watched the Roadrunner show on Saturday mornings. I kept hoping Wiley Coyote would catch that damn bird. I knew he never would, but it was fun to watch him try. Now, later in life, I suspect that teenage boys who didn't have access to ready pussy, transposed Wiley's efforts on top of their own efforts to catch some pussy some day. We never thought we actually would back then - get some pussy I mean - but there was always hope, and a lot of effort went into trying to find the "Acme" device that, when you pushed the right button, would catch that giggling girl and lay her out naked for you to ravage.

Sorry. Again, I digress. That's one of the things that happens to people when too much, that's too momentous, happens suddenly in life. It gets you to thinking.

Anyway, that's why I was sitting on the couch in the living room when the posse stampeded out the front door. I don't know where they were going, but they were excited to get there.

And Marge stopped by the couch on her way out and kissed me on the lips. They were all watching her do it, and there was a chorus of "Oooooo"s and shrieks and giggles that left me beet red.

It didn't affect Marge at all. She just breathed in my face and smiled and said, "Thank you Bobby."

How do girls know how to do that? Produce instant boners, I mean. I was rock hard before the front door slammed and they left me alone. That was it for cartoons. I had to retreat to my room and whack off. Remembering Marge's smell, and the feel of those big soft tits against my chest had me spurting in record time.

I was four more chapters into "Stranger In A Strange Land" when my mother stuck her head in my door and told me she and Dad were going garage saleing. Two chapters later I heard them come back. Except it wasn't 'them' ... it was just Claire. She stuck her head in the door too.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" she asked.

"Garage sales," I muttered.

"Goody!" she yipped. She came in the room.

She ran across the room and catapulted herself on top of me. I barely got the book out of the way. I wasn't sure what was going on until she started kissing me. Her lips felt really warm for some reason.

"I'm sooo horny," she breathed into my mouth. "Margie told us what happened and I've been horny ever since!"

I don't know why I thought Claire would only do it with me once. I guess it was the taboo thing, maybe, and she had obviously been aware of the risks. She made it clear in short order, though, that she was going to do it twice ... at least. Her fingers attacked my shirt like she'd practiced for hours, and my belt and zipper too. Then her clothes were flying all over the place until we were both naked. She straddled me and put her hands on my wrists, like she wanted to be in control, but all she did was kiss me lots of times until I was straining up against her. I could feel her wetness on my stomach as she rubbed her slick pussy against it.

Then she lowered one of her nipples to my mouth. "Do what you did to Marge," she panted. I realized that, during our first frantic coupling, I hadn't paid any attention to her breasts, really. When I sucked on her nipple she shuddered and moaned. "Ohhh she was right ... that feels marvelous." she complimented me. Well it felt pretty good to me too, so I went back and forth until both of her nipples were sticking out a lot, all sharp and pointy.

Just as suddenly as she'd attacked me in the first place she was on her back, pulling me over on top of her and her hand found my hardness and pulled. We both groaned out loud as I slid into that heat. She was so tight - lot's tighter than Marge, who suddenly had another reason to have her nickname. Once I got my prick good and slick in Claire's weepy pussy, I began fucking her fast and hard.

She let me do that for a while, but then pushed at my chest and said, "Slow down a little." We both found that a little slower tempo caused me to press in harder and rub against her more, and that was better. She gave me a running commentary on how close her orgasm was, right up until she squealed and said, "Oh, yes!"

They say that having a mutual orgasm when making love is actually quite difficult ... that people reach their pinnacle at different times naturally, depending on what they're thinking about, and the physical stimulation that's going on and all that. Some people even say what you had for your last meal before you make love affects when you get your cookies. I don't know about all that. When Claire yelled "Oh, yes!" and I knew that it was my very own hard cock that had produced that "Oh, yes!" I spewed like a water balloon that has landed on a cactus. My cum splattered all over the inside of my sister's pussy and I loved every spurt. Knowing that there was nothing preventing a pregnancy didn't bother me even a little bit. Not then. I'd feel bad about it later, but it was exciting then. You know what I mean?

Like I said earlier, sex energized Claire ... made her hyper usually. But, once in a while, Claire liked to kiss and cuddle after sex. That day was a kiss and cuddle day. And to the surprise of two teenagers, we found that a teenage cock can get hard again really fast. I really soaked her that day.

It was after our second go-round that she asked me the question.

"So who do you want to do next?"

"What?" I had enough brains present to act confused.

"The posse! Who do you want to make love to next?"

"I'm making love to the whole posse?" I asked, trying to put incredulity into my voice. I was proud of myself for remembering to say 'make love'.

"Of course. They're all curious. We can trust you not to tell everybody about it. You're elected. Especially after the way Marge talked about what you did last night."

"She told you what we did?" I was still trying to play the role of un-clued-in brother.

"She showed us what you did," she said.

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked. I really didn't know what she was talking about.

"She took off her bottoms when she got back. She showed us all your stuff leaking out of her."

"You guys looked at her pussy?!" I gasped.

"Of course," she said, like everybody knew teenaged girls who'd just had sex showed their sperm-filled pussies to all their friends. "How else would we have known you actually did it?"

"I didn't know proof was required," I said dully.

Man, I was sure glad I wasn't a girl. To have to prove you did something like that to all your friends? That would be just too weird.

"Of course proof is required!" said Claire, like I was stupid. "The rest of the girls wouldn't agree to do it with you unless they all know that everybody else did it with you too." She acted like that actually made sense or something.

Then I got this mental image of Marge, sitting on the edge of the bed, her PJ bottoms on the floor, her legs spread, with those rosy pussy lips gaping open and all spermy, while a bunch of girls peered between her legs to see the ... proof.

And then Claire and I found out that some teenaged boys can go three times within a very short time if they're properly motivated. It was that time that I felt, for the first time, something hard and rubbery feeling up inside Claire's pussy that it felt really good to push the tip of my cock against. I didn't know what it was, back, then, but it felt good. It also felt good to put the tip of my cock right there when it started spewing again.

After that one we were both lying there sweaty and out of breath. I looked at the ceiling and said "Suzy."

I know there are some women reading this who cringed just then. I mean you're lying with your lover, who you just pumped full of spunk, and you say another woman's name. You're thinking that's crude and a bad idea, right? But with the posse it was all for one and one for all, like the musketeers, and it didn't make Claire jealous at all. She did ask why, though.

"I know my nickname for her hurts her feelings," I answered. "Loosey Suzy" was a reference to the shirts she wore, but "Loose" in that day and age had another context that women didn't appreciate being applied to them. And even though I didn't mean it that way, other people hearing me call her that wouldn't know that. She'd yelled at me a lot of times about that and I knew it bothered her.

And, naturally, since it bothered her, I'd called her that every chance I'd gotten.

But this new kind of relationship with the posse couldn't be built on that kind of thing. So I somehow felt like I 'owed' it to Suzy to show her that I thought she was cute as could be. With typical teenage denseness it didn't even occur to me that, after I 'showed' her how I felt about her, she'd be a lot closer to being a "loose woman" than when I'd started. It was a philosophical conundrum that I didn't even recognize was out there, but which should have been obvious. You'll understand that in a little bit.

Claire agreed that I was a turd for calling Suzy what I called her, but she didn't get in my face about it. How could she, lying there naked next to me with my cum soaking into her womb? Anyhow then Claire came up with this really stupid plan for me to sneak over to Monique's house that night, where the posse was convening for their second sleepover of the week. I told her I thought that was stupid, because Monique's parents wouldn't think it was funny at all if they caught me sneaking into their house. She said it didn't matter because they were going to the Opera and wouldn't be there anyway, but that nobody else needed to see me going in.

Which is why I found myself, on a Saturday night, standing outside Monique's bedroom window at eight in the evening when my parents thought I was out dragging the strip with my buddies. I'd parked the car behind their house in the alley where I hoped nobody would see it and wonder why my father's car was parked in the alley behind the Haskins house.

The posse was assembled. It was autumn, but the weather was nice so it wasn't all that cool, even though it was getting pretty dark. I tapped on the window.

There were noises inside like they thought a burglar had just arrived and was going to kill them all. Claire came to the window.

"Good, you're here," she said, like she thought I wouldn't come or something.

Monique appeared beside her. "It's my house!" she stated, like she was pissed off at me. I later found out that she was upset because Suzy was going to get her turn at Monique's house. Monique thought it should be her turn, since it was her house. Of course I didn't know that then, so I didn't know how to respond.

"Yes, it is," I said, amiably.

She turned to my sister and said "See? Even he knows it!"

I also didn't know that Claire had approached things like it was all her idea that Suzy was next. She didn't give me any credit ... or blame, come to think of it ... for choosing Suzy over anybody else. She had just announced that Suzy would lose her virginity that night. It had caused a sensation because all the girls thought, for some reason, that virginities would only be lost at Claire's house. So the remaining virgins had been all relaxed and under the assumption that their hymens were secure until the next sleepover at Claire's. Then, when Claire made her announcement all unexpected like, and Monique found out it wasn't going to be her, she got jealous!

Who understands how girls think?

Anyway, I didn't know all that then, so I was just standing in the Haskins' back yard wondering if the neighbors had seen me yet and called the Police about the peeping Tom at 3314 Maple Street, saying things like, "and could you hurry please, there are a bunch of poor defenseless girls there!"

But no S.W.A.T. team showed up and Monique told me to go to the back door, where I was ushered in like an escaped convict they were trying to hide. I got "shhh"ed too, even though the only people in the house were the girls. Then I was suddenly standing in Monique's bedroom, in the midst of six girls and being 'examined' again. Well, five girls, anyway. Roberta wasn't looking at me. She was looking everywhere else instead.

Suzy whined, "Are you sure it has to be me next?"

Talk about hitting a guy where it hurts. Suzy was obviously not all that thrilled about getting more acquainted with me than she already was. I was stung.

"It doesn't have to be anybody's turn," I groused. "I'm doing you all a favor, after all."

Bad move.

Now I was standing in the midst of six hostile girls. Robby was looking at me now, and I knew that look from pains I still remembered from the past.

"I didn't mean it like that," I mumbled.

Claire took charge. "Casey Kasem's Top 40 is on. Let's go listen to it," she said, with authority. She had to add, "Not you." to Suzy as Suzy tried to follow them out the door.

Monique tried again. "Do they have to do it in my bed?"

Claire pushed her toward the door. "We'll change the sheets when they're done."

And, just like that, I was alone with Loosey Suzy in Monique's extremely pink bedroom.

Suzy was a fairly normal looking girl. She had brown hair, and brown eyes. Her hair hung straight on the sides of her face and almost touched her shoulders. I'd seen her wear it in a pony tail, but usually it was just hanging there, like it was tonight. She had on jeans, which, for the first time, I noticed were hugging nice round hips. She also had on her obligatory loose sweat shirt, which made her look flat-chested. She didn't have a lot on top. She looked like a thousand other girls until she smiled. She had a wide mouth and her teeth were blindingly white, and her smile made you want to smile with her. She was just standing there, staring at me.

"I'm not going to do this," she said quite firmly. The gauntlet had been thrown down.

"Okay," I said, like I didn't care. At that point I actually didn't really care that much. This was weird for me too. "So what do you want to do instead?"

I don't think she was prepared for me to be so agreeable. She shifted from one foot to the other.

"Why don't you just leave?" she asked.

"I could do that," I said. "But you'll get ragged on by the girls."

"I don't care what they think," she said. She didn't sound very convincing.

"Okay," I said amiably. "No biggie." I turned and started for the door.

"Wait!" she said. I turned around. "Was that really ... your stuff? On Marge? Last night?"

Now that seemed like a strange thing to ask.

"Yes," I said. What else could I say?

"Oh," she said.

I didn't know what that meant either.

Then she asked, "Would you really just leave if I told you to?"

"Yeah," I answered. What did she think I'd do? "If that's what you wanted," I added.

"I thought you didn't care what I thought about anything," she said. I got it then. She was trying to start a fight. She didn't want to lose her virginity. Not with me anyway.

I decided that, if nothing else, I'd do what I originally intended to do, and that was be nice to her. You know, to make up for all those times I'd teased her.

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, calling you Loosey Suzy. It's just a nickname, okay? It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't have anything to do with your boobs, and it doesn't mean I think you're ... easy or something."

If I expected gratitude on her part I was in error. "What's wrong with my boobs?" she said, her voice rising a little.

"Nothing's wrong with your boobs." I said. "I've never even seen them. Why would I think there's something wrong with them?"

"They're so small," she said. "I know you think they're small." Her jaw was sticking out. She was still trying to start a fight.

"Even if I thought they were small, that's not bad. They're all different sizes, right? Some are small, some are big. What's the difference? And who cares what I think anyway?" I didn't want a fight.

"Boys don't like girls with small boobs," she insisted.

"You don't know much about boys," I said. "I like all different kinds of boobs."

"Marge said you liked her boobs." said Suzy. "She said you slobbered all over them."

Somehow I didn't think "slobbered" was the word Marge had used. She had been way too happy when my mouth was on them.

"Hers were fine," I said. "But I bet yours are fine too." It wasn't quite suave, or debonair, or even clever, but I was fighting for my life here.

"You're just saying that because you want to get in my pants," she said. "If I let you, then I really will be loose! And for what? You don't really like me."

What was all this, "Do you like me" stuff? It occurred to me that being 'liked' was somehow an important part of all this sex stuff for girls.

The fact was that what she'd said wasn't true. I did like Suzy. I mean she was really good at Math and she always had the coolest science projects. I'd just never spent much time getting to know her, you know? So how do you convince someone you like them when the only thing they know is that you tease them all the time?

I walked over to her and took her face in my hands and I kissed her. I made it a tender kiss. I didn't push real hard or try to stick my tongue in her mouth or anything like that. I just kissed her and tried to enjoy it. It wasn't hard. She had nice lips, even if all she did was stand there while I did it.

"If I didn't like you, could I kiss you like that?" I asked, when it was over. Her hands were hanging at her sides and she hadn't moved at all while I kissed her. Her cheeks were pink, though, and her eyes were wide.

"Nobody's ever kissed me before," she said.

"Was it all that bad?" I asked.

She thought about it. "No." Then "Why do you tease me so much?"

"I don't know. I tease all the girls, I guess," I said. She was still standing close to me. "I probably shouldn't tease so much ... huh?" I asked.

"No, you shouldn't," she agreed. "Kiss me again."

I wasn't ready for that. I mean she really surprised me. But I was willing, and this time I put my arms around her. I pressed a little harder too, moving my lips around on hers and suddenly I felt her hands on my waist. They weren't doing anything ... they were just resting there, but at least they weren't hanging by her sides. I was paying so much attention to her lips that I didn't pay any attention to the feel of her body against mine. That changed when I broke that kiss. I held on to her and then I felt her hard body pressing into me. She wasn't skinny, exactly, she was just mostly muscle. She felt good against me. She licked her lips.

"There are other ways to kiss too." I said.

"I know that," she said. She didn't pull away.

"So ... do you maybe want to try that?" I asked.

"Do you really stop whenever a girl says to stop?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said, my voice firm.

"Well, maybe some kissing wouldn't be so bad," she said.

Man, oh man, did she embrace 'some kissing'. Once she opened her lips and I touched just her teeth with my tongue, her hands moved from my hips to my back and then I found out those slim muscles of hers had some strength in them. She liked to kiss. So I gave her everything I had in the kiss department. Within two minutes, I bet, I had gone through all the mouth kisses I knew. During stops to breathe I nibbled her ear and she craned her neck, so I kissed that too. My hands slid around on her back and I realized she wasn't wearing a bra under that sweatshirt. I felt my dick start to harden up. She might not have been kissed before, but she was a quick learner, I'll tell you that.

"Stop!" she said.

I pulled back, still holding her, and looked at her. She was testing me. I kept looking at her.

"Is that how you kissed Marge last night?" she asked. She was breathing deep.

"I guess so." I said. "It's different with every girl."

"Oh." she seemed surprised. "What else did you do with Marge? Other than ... you know," she amended her question. "I don't want to do that," she reiterated.

I began to understand that Suzy wanted to do ... something ... but didn't want to volunteer to do ... anything. She wanted to be convinced, or something like that, to do these new things. I've met women since then who were like that. They felt better about themselves morally if they didn't volunteer, but were ... convinced instead. I didn't quite grasp that concept back then, with Suzy, but some instinct told me to keep going until she said "stop" again. Maybe it was her insistence that she didn't want to do "that", which by default ... left everything else open. And I knew that she'd seen the evidence of what Marge and I did, and that Marge had at least told them that I sucked her nipples.

"I touched her in some places." I said. That seemed pretty innocuous and not too threatening.

"Like where?" asked Suzy.

I slid my hands down below the hem of her sweatshirt and then up, onto her naked back. "I did this." I said, sliding my hands around on her smooth, tight skin. Then I kissed her again, while I rubbed her back some more. My fingers went down and slipped under the waistband of her jeans, touching her panties. She stiffened, and I pulled them right back out and caressed her back some more. When I broke that kiss I said. "And I touched her breasts too."

There it was. It was an unspoken request to touch Suzy's breasts, which she thought were too small, and which she was ashamed of and hid under those thick loose shirts.

"I'm scared," she said.

I kissed her a couple of short soft kisses. "I won't hurt you Suzy," I said.

"I know that," she said. "I'm scared you'll think my boobs are ugly.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" I suggested.

"If you laugh at me I'll hate you forever," she said. She meant it too, even if she was still holding on to me.

"I can't imagine laughing at your breasts," I said softly.

She did push me away then. She turned her back to me and in a convulsive, quick movement pulled her shirt up and over her head. It left her hair all mussed, and that looked really good against her bare back. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. She didn't want to turn around.

I went up to her and pushed the hair off her neck and kissed it with some more little soft kisses. She rolled her head sideways to give me more room and I slid my hands around her waist to her stomach. Her elbows came back and I realized her hands were covering her breasts now. I slid my hands slowly up until they bumped into hers. I applied just enough pressure to let her know that I wanted her to move her hands.

"Ohhhh Bobby," she moaned. She still sounded scared.

"I know they're beautiful," I whispered into her neck.

She let me push her hands off her breasts and I covered her slim mounds with my own hands as I kept kissing her neck. I felt her nipples instantly. They were huge. Those nipples were perched on mere swells of breast flesh. I was quite sure that some twelve-year-olds had more there than she did, but her nipples were truly impressive. They were thick and already stuck out as far as Claire's had after I'd sucked on them for fifteen minutes. I rubbed my hands across those nipples gently and she leaned back into me.