The Culverville Secret Sex Society - Cover

The Culverville Secret Sex Society

Copyright© 2009 by pj

Chapter 15

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 15 - Larry, Mary Ann and Sally have a secret club. Enter Francine, a new transfer into town who has had a public rep as 'easy' in both her last high schools.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Mind Control   Hypnosis   Magic   Heterosexual   Spanking   Orgy   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   First   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Petting   Squirting   Enema   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Slow   Caution   School  

Francine

Janine called me that evening and told me it was all set for tomorrow. Her boyfriend's friend Brock Applegate would be with him at the mall at 4.

"What should I wear?"

"Anything you'd normally wear on a date. Brock's a nice guy ... sort of shy ... he wont mind. Bradd remembers you from the cookout and told him you're really hot looking. He called you a red hot pepper chili. Isn't that sweet?"

I didn't know how I should respond to that so I said nothing. Janine giggled.

"Don't worry about that, I don't. Just wait till I'm through with him before you get too friendly. Don't know when that's going to be, though. Depends on if he really gets the starting quarterback position."

"Oh, okay. Sure" Janine sure was honest about saying what she thought. I admired that on the one hand and it bothered me on the other.

"I'll pick you up at 3. We can window shop and talk before the boys get there."

...

On the way to the mall, Janine and I talked about boys some more. Wow. Being with her was an education all in itself, she had more confidence than any girl of my age I'd ever known.

"That thing you said about thinking with your head and not letting emotions run away. I like that."

"What?" Janine looked confused, then it hit. "Oh, yeah. I said don't think with your pussy. That's not new, haven't you ever heard the phrase 'Don't think with your dick?'"

"Oh, yeah. Now you mention it."

"I suppose that could mean the same thing as 'Don't let your emotions take over' but it isn't really. What I'm saying is not to let your biology shape your decisions. That's a little different."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Janine amazed me. She didn't come across as a philosophical type.

"My mother. She's on her third husband, and she traded up every time. Her first husband, my father, rescued her from a trailer park, but he was an oil wildcatter. In fact a wildcat in more ways than one. He was never home, nature took its course and mom said she was only lucky she picked a bright, ambitious, guy to fool around with. That didn't last long because mother got a taste of the good life, and he didn't share the same tastes for it. He actually paid her to go away. So now my stepdad is a lawyer making big bucks and mom said that would never have happened if she'd fallen on her back for just any sexy good looking guy."

I thought about that for a few moments as we walked through the mall, checking out the Sale signs. Janine looked at her watch and remarked that it was time to head for the food court to meet Bradd and Brock. On the way, we walked past a radio shack type place.

"Fly Spec alert!" she giggled.

"fly speck?"

"Yeah. Guys wearing glasses and about like flies on the wall for us hang out in there. Brainiacs, you know."

"You don't like smart boys?"

"Oh ... I think I'll like them plenty, someday; and so should you, once you have a couple years in college. Right now they're insignificant to us, maybe a nuisance sometimes."

"I don't understand."

"In the first place, they don't matter now at our age. We're just practicing for the big time. That means it's like a test, who gets to be top of the heap. And it's the all-round guys, the ones who run for student office and play on the varsity teams who are on top ... Everyone wants to be popular, first; second they want to learn. Some get good grades, lots of the in crowd get very good grades, that means they have some potential for the future. All those brainiacs may even get better grades but that doesn't mean they will be 'Leaders'. And you want to be with the leaders. Mother says, though, that a lot of those wimpy types end up blooming later so, once they get out of the pimple and clod-kicking stages, you want to watch for them. She says that's in college or post grad schools."

"So ... shouldn't we pay attention to them a little now?"

"No, mom says it doesn't matter. In fact it's a bad thing to hang around with them right now. She thinks a lot of those boys actually try harder to excel in school and when they get out of college to make up for being on the outside when they were younger. If they can get the popular girls in high school then they'd not have the same things to prove."

"I see."

"Think about it. Suppose you find some guy who was put down all his life by the hot pretty popular girls and suddenly you pay attention to him. He's probably not going to connect the fact he's made academic waves with your 'discovery' of what a great guy he is."

"Wow. It seems like you're going to major in 'Gold-digging' or something." I couldn't help throwing in a little dig at her attitude.

Janine laughed.

"Now you got it. It's the actual oldest career on earth for women. Hookers are the ones who were too dumb to start planning early."

Bradd and Brock were waiting for us at a table in the court. I'd met Bradd and talked to him briefly at Mary Ann's cookout. Brock was interesting. He was blond, sported a flat top, something that went out two years ago, but was fairly good looking and had no zits so far as I could tell. When we walked up, he stood. I noticed Bradd seemed startled by that, and jumped up too. Janine did the introduction and we sat down, Brock holding my chair. Quaint.

Brock asked me where I came from, about my old school, all the usual stuff. I asked him if he was on the football team, and he seemed startled by that ... sort of as if it was a silly question. Yeah, of course ... he played Running Back and backfield on defense. Other than that, he was seemingly a good guy, didn't hem and haw and blush.

It was Brock who asked if we wanted something to eat, both us girls got a small sandwich of something or other, fries and a coke. While they were gone, Janine and I talked and when the boys came back, she kept the conversation with me going, ignoring the boys other than to say "Thanks" as they sat they trays on the table.

So Bradd started talking to Brock about football practice, something about how the new guys weren't in shape and needed time in the weight room. Brock said something in agreement but I thought I picked up a hint of annoyance that he had to talk about that.

Janine only picked at her food and sipped the coke, so I followed suit, even though I was hungry. Why do I do that! The sandwich was not very good and the fries were soggy, of course but I really could have eaten them all. Oh, well ... maybe Brock would get the large popcorn later.

We started walking to the side entrance, where Bradd was parked, when I glanced down the way and saw Larry. He was with an older woman, I assumed his mom as he was carrying all the bags. I was surprised to feel a little flush of excitement when I saw him. Of course that quickly turned to anger or annoyance or something, when his eyes met mine. I looked away. Later I realized I didn't immediately look at Brock, just away from Larry's gaze.

Janine had picked some romantic farce movie, featuring Debby Reynolds and some Cary Grant wannabe. In return, she let Bradd pick out the seating, which was back of the balcony. I didn't understand that, they surely didn't have to resort to movies to find a place to make out. It made me a little uncomfortable, I didn't know Brock, of course and I was afraid he'd go too fast.

At the same time, the simple knowledge of what might go on (I'd been fingered and given boys a little hand in places just like this) gave me a little tingle in my private place ... And that tingle, in turn, bothered me too. I didn't want to have to walk out of the place with a wet spot on the back of my skirt.

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