Chapter 10: Chemistry, the Experimental Science

The next afternoon, Wednesday, I went over to Shelley’s, and we quickly smoked a pack of Camels. This time our Baggie held crushed ice and a little water and kept the filter temperature nicely under control. The screen caught any paper and tobacco, and the filter cotton was becoming decidedly browner. We pronounced the design a success. Shelley then grinned and blew out the candle.

I sat down on the couch and stretched out, making myself comfortable. Earlier, Shelley had changed out of her skirt into a pair of tight jeans, which looked really good on her. As soon as I stretched out, she sat down on the couch and crawled over me. She kissed me and said, “Mmmm, I think we have at least an hour before anybody comes home. Whatever will we do until then?”

I smiled and ran my hands up her back. Shelley was wearing a green print cotton blouse, with a bra underneath it. I could feel the catch behind her. “Well, we could always talk, or watch TV, or read books. Did you have something else in mind?” I asked innocently.

“I was thinking about a different experiment.” She leaned in and kissed me much more deliberately.

After a minute, I pulled back and smiled. “I love science. I think I’ll let you be the project leader.” I put a hand behind her head and pulled her closer.

We French kissed for several minutes, and I could tell Shelley was becoming very aroused. She was a vocal lover and reminded me of an ancient joke: Two guys were talking and the first said that it was his birthday, and his friends had gotten him a sweater. The second guy said that was very nice of them, at which point the first guy replied, ‘Yeah, but last year they got me a moaner!’ Shelley was a moaner!

Shelley lay on top of me, moaning as we kissed. Her eyes were closed, and she squirmed around, rubbing herself across me. Well, I might not understand women (God knows I didn’t on the first time around, and so far, the second trip wasn’t looking all that favorable) but even I knew enough to move forward. I began rubbing her back, slowly running my hands down her back to her jeans and then back upwards. I could feel the muscles in her back moving in response. I lingered briefly at her bra, letting her know that I knew it was there, but otherwise handled it slowly. Shelley moaned even louder, and she began squirming around feverishly, even beginning to hump my leg.

After another minute or two of frantic kissing, I brought my hands up and along her sides, and then brought my right hand around to her front. I simply held it against her left breast. Shelley shivered and kissed me harder, and then pulled away slightly. “Oh, God, oh God...” She opened her eyes and looked at me. I just smiled and shifted on the couch, so that now we were lying more or less on our sides.

I moved my lips away from hers, and began licking and nibbling first her lips, and then her cheeks, and then began moving down her neck, all of which elicited tiny little shrieks of pleasure from her. She was furiously humping her pelvis at me. When I got down to her neckline, I spent a fair bit of time working at the side of her neck before moving my lips around to her throat. As I did, I reached between us and popped the top button on her blouse. Shelley didn’t complain, so I kissed lower, and undid another button.

Inside of five minutes I had Shelley’s blouse unbuttoned, and I was kissing and licking the tops of her breasts above the cups of her small bra. Shelley wasn’t the bustiest girl in the school, but what she had was nice and soft and warm, and looked very perky. I pulled away and reached around her, inside her blouse, and smiled at her as I undid the catch on her bra. She sighed and said, “We can’t go any further today.”

I pulled my hand back. “Do I need to stop and leave?”

She smiled and took my hand and held it to her breast. “I didn’t say that, just that we can’t go any further. It’s not a good time.”

The confusion must have been evident on my face, and then I simply said, “Ohhhh.” It had been a long time since Marilyn and I had been held up by menstruation.

“Yeah. In the meantime, don’t stop, no matter what!” She tugged my head back down to her chest. I maneuvered her bra out of the way. She had large and puffy nipples on those two perfect little cones, and I split my time on them, licking and sucking them, first one and then the other. After several minutes, Shelley’s moans became even louder, and she began to shiver and shake. Then, she stiffened in my arms with a tiny little shriek, and gasped out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She was coming, and I led her through it and then let her down. She collapsed in my arms, breathing heavily.

Well, hell, so was I, and it didn’t look like I was going to get any relief until later that night in the bathroom. Meanwhile, my cock was stuck halfway down one of my pant legs and I was starting to suffer the mother of all blue balls. I moved away slightly and tried to adjust my position. Shelley noticed and grinned. “Things a little hard for you?” she teased.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Maybe you’d like a little help with that?”

“Well, now that you mention it...”

Shelley smiled a very adult smile at me. She sat up, not bothering to cover up or adjust her blouse and bra, and very expertly undid my belt and the zipper on my blue jeans. “Lift up,” she ordered. I obeyed and she tugged my jeans and my tighty-whiteys down. Little Carl popped into view, hard and red and proudly waving in the wind. “Oh, Carl, that’s very nice!” she said, a coo in her voice.

Well, I wasn’t the biggest guy in the gym on my first trip through, but I wasn’t the smallest either. If the average was between 5½” and 6½” long, I was between 6½” and 7”, depending on how you did the measuring. It was pretty obvious to me that this wasn’t the first cock Shelley had seen, although exactly how many I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Shelley climbed off the couch and knelt on the carpet at my waist. She reached out and delicately began to stroke and pump me, smiling at me and looking into my eyes seductively. “Does that feel good?” she asked in a whisper.

“Oh, God!” I moaned. She gave me a slightly more vigorous stroke, with a bit of a twist involved, and I lost control. Jism spurted up and into the air, and then came down and landed all over my crotch and her hand. She gave me several more pumps until I drained out.

“I think it felt good,” she commented, laughing. Then she completely surprised me. She peeled off her blouse and bra, leaving her kneeling next to me topless. Then she used her bra cups to wipe the cum off my cock and balls and her hand. Just the sight of her doing this, and the feel of the silky bra running over my groin, drove me nuts, and my cock immediately stiffened again.

I had forgotten one of the great things about my teenage years, the ability to rejuvenate practically at will! I was a pretty normal guy. In my teen years I could go again after about ten minutes or less, and screw three or four times in a row, no problem. In my twenties, it was two or three times a night; my thirties and forties, once a night. By the time I was mid-fifties, Viagra became a useful helper, and by my sixties, a requirement.

Now - now I could go again as quickly as I needed to, and right now, it looked like I needed to! Shelley pumped my dick until it was sufficiently hard, and then leaned in, opening her mouth. She only sucked on my cockhead, all the while pumping and twisting my shaft. It was my turn to moan happily. I laid a hand on her back and another on her head, not pushing her lower but simply running my fingers through her hair and keeping her in place. “Oh, that’s it, don’t stop ... don’t stop ... just like that ... don’t stop ... yes, yes...” As she took me closer to the edge, biology took over, and I began pumping my midsection upwards, trying to fuck my cock into her mouth. Shelley stayed firmly in control.

Just before I cut lose, I had enough semblance of thought to weakly cry out, “I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, keep going, keep going.” If she didn’t want it in her mouth, and some girls don’t, at least I gave her warning. She could probably tell anyway by the taste of my pre-cum. Shelley didn’t care. She kept sucking and pumping until I exploded again, and she swallowed every drop.

I collapsed into the couch and gazed at her. She sat back on her heels and grinned, using a finger to wipe the corners of her mouth. “Wow!” I said.

“That was fun. We’re going to have to do that again.”

“Any time you want.” I theatrically looked at my watch. “Give me a few minutes...”

Shelley laughed and stood up, grabbing her top and bra. “Not now. My folks will be home in ten minutes. I need to get dressed!” She scampered up the stairs.

I waited another minute to catch my breath, and then stood up and pulled my briefs and pants back up. By the time Shelley returned, I had the basement in a semblance of dignity. We packaged up the parts of the filter we were taking to the college and tossed them in my backpack and headed upstairs.

“Not to be too personal, but any idea when, you know, we’ll be able to, you know?” I stammered out. I figured this was better than asking the real question - when can we fuck like minks in heat?

She grinned. “Sometime next week.”

“Should I be getting some protection?” I asked.

She gave me a surprised look. “Thank you for asking, but no, I’m on the Pill.” She then said, “Most guys don’t ask.”

“You should know by now, I’m not most guys.”

She ran her hands across her breasts, shivering, and said breathily, “I figured that out already. I thought I was going to be teaching you, but boy did I have that wrong! Who taught you?”

“A friend.”

“Who was she? I didn’t know you had been dating anyone.”

I just shook my head. “I don’t kiss and tell or do anything and tell. I have had friends.”

“Friends? Multiple friends?”

“I’m a friendly guy.”

She looked at me and then reached out to try and tickle me. “I bet I can force you to tell me.”

I didn’t tell her, but the only places on my entire body that are ticklish are the soles of my feet. I let her try to tickle me, but just held out, stalwart to the end. “Us tough guys can’t be broken!”

“Then I’m going to start asking around school!”

I shrugged. “Ask away, but you’ll never hear it from me.”

“And if one of your friends asks about us?”

“We’re just friends. Good friends. Unquote. Like I said, I don’t tell.” Then I grinned. “But don’t let me stop you. You ask your friends in school, and the next time we’re together, you can try tickling me again, too, but don’t be surprised if I tickle back.” I goosed her side and she squealed and jumped away. “Payback’s a bitch, baby!”

Her mother walked in just then, to find her daughter trying to tickle me, and me valiantly resisting. I was polite enough to look embarrassed, and then I grabbed my coat and took off. As I left the house, I could hear Shelley saying, “Mom! Nothing happened!” I grinned like a fool the entire walk home.

That evening, after demolishing what little homework I was behind in, I gave a lot of thought to my newfound sexual liberation. In many ways, the Sixties and Seventies were the golden age of the sexual revolution. With the introduction of the Pill in the late Fifties/early Sixties pregnancy was effectively eliminated as a reason for abstinence. Even if a girl got pregnant, it was no longer the end of the world. By 1973 Roe v. Wade legalized abortion throughout the country. By the Seventies, the social stigma of abortion was at the lowest it would be for a generation or two.

The other major problem with promiscuous sexual freedom was disease, but AIDS didn’t exist until the early Eighties. In the Sixties and Seventies, the worst you could get was gonorrhea or syphilis, both of which were susceptible to standard antibiotics. (Okay, herpes was around too, but that was never that big a deal.) Once, in the mid Seventies when I was in college, I got an abscessed tooth, and needed to be treated with penicillin. My frat brothers immediately suspected I had the clap and my reputation soared!

So, I was in the midst of a sexual smorgasbord that on the first go-around I had been both oblivious to (at first) and then unable to do much with. Sexual liberation was something that really wasn’t seen until college. While statistics on the subject have always been notoriously unreliable, the average age when virginity was lost was 18 or 19. It would continue to drop as time went on, but when I graduated high school in 1973, well over half my class, despite the bragging and brave talk, were virgins, myself included. I also have to be fair about it, when I say that in 1969, it was very unusual for a junior high student to be sexually active. There were always rumors and stories but were generally just rank bullshit.

I saw no need to repeat that history! If two-thirds of my graduating class were virgins, then one-third wasn’t, and it was my duty to find the females in this group. It looked to me like I already had found my first serious girlfriend, and I intended for us to become very serious.