Chapter 19

The big event I was looking forward to after the Prom and Krys's graduation was, of course, my seventeenth birthday. After that I would be legal, at least in the eyes of the Law. I wouldn't have to worry too much about CPS. No, that was a mistake. As long as our group of kids existed, and we had a member who was under 17, we would have to worry about them.

This struck me as strange. I'd had to do some reading for one of my classes, and girls normally were getting pregnant at the age of 16 and younger. Maybe that explained the high mortality rate, historically the most common fate for a woman was to die in childbirth.

Part of it, I think, was that there'd been whole hosts of perverts who'd exploited young girls. Every age has had them, they were just more noticeable during the Victorian period. And Society had decided it had to do something about them. That led to all of the laws, and led to the problems I was facing. These people meant well, but 'one size doesn't fit all'.

I'll be the first to admit that a lot of my contemporaries in school were not emotionally mature enough to swing. And swinging isn't something you admit to unless, say, you're in your 40s or so and have a website. But then how many of those people give only their first names? And if they did give their last name, there were always people who wanted to have sex with them, and figured that just because they did it with people in their social group they'd do it with everyone, and specifically that particular person who couldn't get any anyway.

One night after work—I was driving now and was saving for my own car—Mom and I sat down and she showed me some of those websites. This wasn't to get me excited or turned on, but to educate me about the adult world of swinging.

There was a lot to learn, not the least being that there were men who considered us whores because we had sex with men we weren't married to. That was kind of shocking, but there was worse.

If I was upset with the things men called us, it was doubly so when I read the comments from women. We were worse than low. We were whores or nymphos, or both, and were condemned for it. The kindest word they all used was slut.

"Apparently a girl who likes sex is supposed to be a slut or a whore," I said.

"And we're condemned by it. Notice, though, that most of the complaints are coming from women who are not in your age group."

"Oh, girls say the same things. I've been very careful about that."

"They pick that up from the older women. That's where a young girl gets lots of her values."

"So you're telling me that people are nasty and will stick their noses into something that's none of their business."

"Which is why we try to remain private."

I hit the back key and went to a website we'd passed. "Now this I find interesting." It was a site run by a couple. They modeled sex toys and sold them through a company that was online. "This reminds me of that channel we saw in Vegas."

"It does, doesn't it." I could feel her smile. "I may want to get you something for your birthday. Or not. I still haven't made up my mind."

"Well, you still have a week to decide." I knew that she wouldn't if we had a public party. But if it was private, then it was possible. But that would be for later. I had a couple of other things on my mind, including how our little group of kids was going to celebrate my birthday.

One of the older girls, Yasmine, had come up with the way to celebrate a girl's 17th Birthday. She called it The Sandwich. Everyone was skeptical at first, but when Yasmine turned 19, she demonstrated it.

You need three boys, one in front, one in back, and one for your mouth. You were supposed to get a fourth guy for your boobs, but there's only so much room available, even with someone as generously built as Yasmine. Of course once everyone is in place, you go at it until everyone has popped.

By all accounts, the girl has a fantastic time. Not everyone liked taking it up the rear, but most girls were willing to make an exception for this one time. And a few of us, myself included, didn't like taking it in our mouths. I'll amend that: I could take it in my mouth, I just didn't like guys coming there. Eric, that was okay. It was something special we had, but not the rest. So I'd take it on my face, or my ever popular boobs.

That was one of the things Yaz and I had in common. She was a big girl, probably 80 pounds overweight, maybe more, and had boobs to match. She'd take guys there, and it wouldn't take long before you saw the white pearls of some guy's come dripping off of her dark skin. I swear that girl could come from someone playing with her boobs, and she claimed that the boys loved it too because so much of her had a good time.

One of the things I'd learned from Yaz and her brother showing up from time to time was that it felt no different if the boy was black or white. Jon's dick felt just like Jessie's going in. I mention Jessie specifically because they were both about the same size. The only difference was that Jon was black, and his dick was the blackest part of him.

Yaz and Jon's mother was a lawyer, and their Dad was a General Contractor in the area building houses and all of the other things you need in a community like ours. And they had an appetite for sex. They swung with our parents, while Yaz and Jon partied with us kids.

Jon and I had another connection, one I certainly couldn't admit to any of the girls at school. He'd let me hold him while he'd peed. I knew guys stood in front of the toilet and did something, aim it I think, and 'went'. I'd never gotten into the mechanics of it until one night, after Jon and I had had a very nice time together, when he admitted he had to pee. I did, too, and this was one of those funny things that happened in the group. At one time or another every guy in our group had had his face down between my legs, and I'd sucked every one of their dicks. But we still did our business in the bathroom in private. Not this time. Jon and I went into the bathroom, and I reached around him and held his dick. I wasn't sure what to do with it after he was done, but he took over, shook it a couple of times, and was done. That explained why the bathroom at home always smelled slightly.

There's not much a guy can do to help a girl 'go'. You sit there, relax like you've learned, and it flows. So I had him wipe me dry afterwards. It felt deeply personal, far more than when he'd been probing my entrance with his finger only a little while before. I don't know why that is, but there it was.

Anyway, on the first Saturday night after my 17th birthday, I got to experience The Sandwich. First, I had three guys paying attention to me, hands, fingers and tongues everywhere. The idea was to get me in the right mood and nice and relaxed. The latter was the most important because I'd been thinking about this for several days, and I was definitely in the right mood. I just needed to be relaxed so I could take it, and the surest way to get a girl relaxed is to get her off.

Now every one of the girls in our group had tried it up the rear. It had never been my favorite way to do it; there was a much more exciting hole just a short distance away, so why not use that? But there were some girls who thought otherwise. Patty Sue was one. She was our other black girl, and she'd spent her formative years in Shreveport. To her, taking it up the rear was a way to make sure there weren't any little ones calling her Mama, even though she was on birth control like everyone else. Not all boys were agreeable, but enough were willing to get anything that they could. I actually watched her get off that way more than once. Whatever trips your trigger.

I was one of those for whom it was 'okay'. Everyone knew that, but this was The Sandwich, so I didn't have much choice. The boys got me relaxed—a boy on each boob and one between my legs guaranteed that!—and then came the lube. A girl doesn't naturally lubricate herself in back. But they did, and then Jessie worked his way in.

I felt stuffed, and that was only boy number one. I was on my side, and raised my leg so Jerry could get in to make the other half of The Sandwich. He was really stiff—guys get excited by this—and soon I felt him at the most girlish part of me as he dipped in and out a couple of times before finally pushing it home.