Saturday Night Fever

         In today's world, young men put a can of Skoal in their back pocket
     as an indication of their impending manhood.  In my day, the white ring
     on the brown  wallet leather caused  by a foil-encased  Trojan was  the
     same thing.  In  those days, rubbers were  kept behind the counter  and
     you could only get one by asking the pharmacist.  Always you had to  be
     careful that the women behind the  counter were elsewhere so you  could
     quietly talk to one of the men, shamed that someone might see you,  but
     also excited at the prospect of this rite of passage.  A few days ago I
     was in a  drugstore behind a  high school girl  who was discussing  the
     merits of ribbed rubbers with her  girlfriend who was working the  cash
     register.  In my day, the only  ribbed condoms were found in a  machine
     behind the door in the men's room at the truck stops.

         All of this preliminary explanation to  state that I was ready  for
     Saturday night  and my  first real  date with  Vickie.   My condom  was
     safely waiting in my wallet where it had been for the last six  months.
     (In those days, we assumed that  a rubber was indestructible and  would
     last forever, unless  used, of  course.   But that  wasn't very  likely
     unless you  were willing  to go  with  a girl  who "did  it".)   I  had
     captured the aroma of her essence on my handkerchief when I cleaned  my
     hands before going home, and I placed it on my face as I jacked off  in
     bed, dreaming of encounters past  and, hopefully, future.  By  Saturday
     night my cock was  so tender that  it was constantly in  my mind as  my
     tight pants rubbed  on it,  the feelings  causing an  erection and  the
     erection causing more memories.  This vicious circle meant that I spent
     the next few days walking around  my high school with a constant  hard-
     on.  Later I found  out that that fact had  caused more than one of  my
     female classmates to decide to accept if I asked them out.

         I washed and cleaned  my car, showering and  covering my body  with
     after shave (Old Spice as  I remember) so I would  smell good.  With  a
     half bottle of scent, I probably smelled like a French whorehouse,  but
     I didn't realize  it at  the time.   Promptly  at 7:30  that evening  I
     knocked on her door, dressed in black chinos, lime green short  sleeved
     shirt with the collar up  in the back and  cigarettes rolled up in  the
     left sleeve.  Mrs. T.  opened the door and looked  at me with one  eye.
     Vickie later told me that she had control of only one eye, and that the
     other wandered without control, but I was nearly unnerved by the  sight
     of a woman staring at me with one eye as the other looked all around.

         Stammering, I asked  if Vickie  was ready,  and she  invited me  in
     while Vickie's brother called loudly, "Vickie, your date is here",  his
     tone sounding like he  was about to  puke.  As  Vickie walked into  the
     room, I got my first chance to look  at her closely in the light.   She
     was much  shorter than  I and  was extremely  thin, her  arms and  legs
     appearing to be nearly emaciated.  Her face was pretty, even though her
     cheeks were hollow, and her  hair was done up in  a braid on her  head,
     her bangs covering  her forehead with  a sleek brown  shine.  Her  eyes
     were sparkling, unlike their appearance when we first met, and I  could
     see color in  her cheekbones  as she  blushed at  my stare.   I  nearly
     didn't hear Mrs. T's instructions to have  her home by 1:00 and that  I
     should drive carefully, and  other general bull  that all parents  tell
     their children's dates.

         As we walked to my car, her poodle skirt swished half way down  her
     calves.  I helped her  into the passenger seat,  and she slid half  way
     across, waiting for me to get into the car.  I had barely shut the door
     when I felt her hand on my thigh as she leaned against my shoulder, her
     head relaxed against the seat back.  Starting the flathead 8, I started
     for town, heading  for the movie  theater.  Her  eyes were closed  and,
     when I finally got to the  theater and parked, seemed surprised to  see
     where we were.

         "You don't have to take me in there if you don't want to," she said
     in a small voice.   In those days, your  own reputation was colored  by
     the company you kept, and she  knew that my reputation would change  if
     we were seen together a second time.

         "I want to," was all I said as I got out of the car, Vickie sliding
     out beside me.  We went into the theater.  While we stood there waiting
     for popcorn and Cokes, I heard whispers behind me and knew that someone
     was talking about us, and that the  story would get all over school  by
     9:00 on Monday morning.  I  wasn't really brave, I was just  determined
     that small minds in  a small city  weren't going to  make me change  my
     upbringing.  I took "nice  girls" to the theater,  and I was bound  and
     determined that I was going to take Vickie.

         We sat in  the last  row of  the balcony--the  make-out pit--as  we
     watched some movie.  Vickie leaned against me so my right arm could  go
     around her shoulders and under her  right arm, my fingers able to  just
     caress the sides of her  breast covered with her  blouse and bra.   Her
     sweater hid my hand  from the sight  of others, and  I remember that  I
     fought to keep my arm from going to  sleep, but I was afraid that if  I
     changed positions I wouldn't be able to touch her breast anymore.

         Her hand was resting lightly on my knee, and occasionally she would
     squeeze my leg as my fingers found her nipple through all the layers of
     clothing, my fingers  unable to  be sure that  I had  the erect  nubbin
     captured until I felt her reaction.   My erection, prominent all  week,
     was now raging, and I shifted to eliminate my uncomfort.  Finally I had
     to use my  hand to  release my  cock from  its confined  place down  my
     inseam and let it ride up my belly.  Vickie scooted down in the seat  a
     little more, and I thought it was to give my hand more access (which it
     did) until  I felt  her elbow  gently probing  at my  hard-on,  rubbing
     against its strength as her hand moved and caressed my knee.

         I can't understand  how I  managed to wait  for the  movie to  end.
     Even today I think that I probably was so aroused that I would rape her
     if not for the fact that there were about 50 people in the theater.  As
     we got up to leave, her hip brushed against my erection, and she leaned
     back so her  buttocks were firmly  pressed into my  groin as she  moved
     slightly from side  to side, her  crack dragging my  cock as it  worked
     back and  forth over  my body.   I  nearly came,  but she  giggled  and
     stepped forward,  leaving me  with  a raging  hard-on creating  a  very
     evident bulge  in  my  pants  (at her  recommendation,  I  hadn't  worn
     underpants, so there was nothing  to restrict or control my  erection.)
     I remember feeling that every eye was on my cock as we walked past  the
     rope which segregated the late show crowd from the matinee viewers.

         When we finally got to my car, I  asked her if she wanted to go  to
     the drive-in and get something to eat (still the perfect gentleman  who
     was "RAISED RIGHT".)   She looked at me,  looked plainly at my  crotch,
     and said, "I think we better get to the park before you bust the zipper
     in your pants."

         Remembering that speed caused her to get excited the first time,  I
     pressed the accelerator until we were going nearly 80 mph down the main
     street in that section of  town.  Rather than  risk the cops, I  pulled
     off into a residential section and  my tires could be heard for  blocks
     as I rounded curves at top speed, hoping that there was no loose gravel
     to cause a skid.   Her eyes were bright  with excitement and her  hands
     clutched at my leg  as she tried to  stay beside me  as the force  from
     cornering threw both of us around (remember, seat belts wouldn't become
     even optional equipment for nearly 5 more years.)

         Finding the back of the lake and parking among the other "make-out"
     artists, I killed the engine and turned  off the lights.  As I  reached
     for her, Vickie scooted  across the seat and  got out of the  passenger
     door, slamming it as she ran toward the lake, leaving me in a  complete
     state of  confusion, my  erection  wilting fast  as  my mind  tried  to
     understand what  was  happening.    Finally,  when  she  was  about  to
     disappear around the curve of  the lake, I got out  of the car and  ran
     after her, catching up with her about two minutes later.

         As I  reached her  side she  stopped and  turned to  face me.    "I
     thought you weren't coming, and I'd hate to walk around the lake  alone
     with my  blouse and  bra off.   You  never know  who you  might  meet."
     Saying that, she handed me her sweater as she unbuttoned her blouse and
     shook it off as she reached between her breasts and unsnapped the hook,
     letting it slide off her arms to the  ground.  Raising her arms to  the
     sky, she stretched upward letting the  coolness of the night air  bathe
     her nipples  so  that they  poked  out  like pencil  erasers  from  the
     pinkness of her areolae.  "I love to feel the wind on my tits.  I  hate
     clothing.   I wish  I could  be a  nudist and  go around  all the  time
     without clothing, letting nature clothe me in its warmth."

         I was dumbfounded.  I had  never even seen breasts before, and  now
     this sprite  was standing  in the  streetlight in  the park  completely
     naked to  the waist.   Quickly,  before  anyone could  see, I  put  the
     sweater over her  shoulders and  pulled it shut,  my erection  restored
     with the thought of what she was doing.  "No, let me.  I'll keep it  on
     so I can cover up if we meet anyone, but I want to be free.  I want  to
     feel the air on my  nipples as we walk.   Pick up my clothes and  carry
     them if it makes you feel better," she said as she started out  walking
     around the  lake, her  naked body  gleaming in  the streetlamps  as  we
     walked.  When we were near the park entrance a car turned in and bathed
     us in its  headlights, and I'm  sure the  driver caught a  view of  her
     naked chest before she could pull the sweater closed.

         When we finally got back to the car, I opened the door and she slid
     the seat back and  got in the back  before I could  stop her.   Looking
     around, I quickly followed  and shut the  door, extinguishing the  dome
     lamp.   She threw  her sweater  into  the front  seat and  leaned  back
     against the cushion,  her fingers touching  and caressing her  nipples.
     "Feel how hard they are.  I love the excitement and it always causes my
     nipples to get really hard and sensitive.  Put your hand on them."

         I reached out  and put just  the tip  of my finger  on her  nipple,
     pushing gently until it started to  disappear into her breast.  When  I
     released the  pressure,  it sprang  back  like a  rubber  ball,  poking
     proudly from  her naked  chest.   I  leaned forward  and put  my  cheek
     against her  breast,  rubbing  it  back and  forth.    "Kiss  it,"  she
     commanded as her fingers  tangled in my hair,  forcing my face  against
     her nudity.  I opened my mouth as far as I could and sucked her  entire
     tit, my lips lapping over the soft rise of her breast as I put  maximum
     suction, pulling my head backward.  "Do just the nipple," she whined as
     the heat rose  in her body.   I could  hear the slurping  sounds and  I
     attacked her  nipple with  my  lips and  tongue, sucking  and  licking,
     flicking the exciting bud of flesh as if  I was a baby nursing for  its
     dinner.  Her moans of pleasure filled  my ears as she let the  feelings
     wash over her, her  hands pressing into her  groin and rubbing  through
     the thick skirt.

         I put one hand on her other  nipple and began to twist and pull  it
     like I had the first time I touched  her, and I let my other hand  fall
     to her calf, rubbing her leg up under her skirt.  As my hand neared the
     conjunction of  her thighs,  she screamed,  "No!" and  grabbed my  arm,
     forcing my hand away from her crotch.

         Confused, I sat back  and looked at her  slumped down in the  seat,
     completely naked from the  waist up with her  nipple glistening in  the
     soft light from  a distant street  lamp.   Her mouth was  open and  her
     hands were frantically rubbing at her  pussy as, with a loud moan,  she
     came, her aroma flooding my senses.  I nearly decided to get out of the
     car, figuring that she was going to turn into another prick-teaser when
     she came back to  earth, her hands slowing  and finally stopping  their
     intrusion onto her pussy.

         "I'm sorry.  I'm off the roof now and I can't fuck or anything.   I
     didn't want this to happen, but it felt so good while you were  sucking
     me that I had to rub myself."  Now I might have been inexperienced, but
     I wasn't dumb.   I realized that she  hadn't gotten her fingers  inside
     her pussy, so I couldn't understand how she got herself off.

         "But how did you do it?" I  asked, confounded by the fact that  she
     had cum without any penetration.

         "I rubbed my clit, silly.  It's really more sensitive than my pussy
     is anyway, and it's right where I can get to it."

         "Clit?" I thought, "what's a clit?"   I had learned all the  proper
     terms for a woman's body  in Sex Ed last year.   I knew about  ovaries,
     vagina, fallopian tubes, womb; but no one said anything about a clit.

         "Show me," I asked.  "I want to see where your clit is."

         Slowly she pushed both hands down her thighs, apparently trying  to
     decide if  she would  comply.   Suddenly she  made up  her mind.    She
     grabbed the skirt and pulled it up so it covered her breasts,  exposing
     her panties which  were wet  with her  vaginal fluids,  her dark  pubic
     hairs poking from  the sides where  the crotch was  forced between  her
     lips.  She stuck one  finger into the front  of her panties and  pulled
     them to the side, exposing a  curly mass of dark hair glistening  wetly
     in the night.  "Give  me your hand," she said  as she reached for  mine
     with her free hand.  She pulled it forward and let me feel the softness
     of her inner lips.   She pushed it upward and  I felt a hard nubbin  at
     the top of  her cunt  lips, and  she drew in  her breath  sharply as  I
     stroked it.

         "Is that it?" I inquired, my fingers pushing the bud back and forth
     in its warm moistness.   Her gasp was all I  needed to know.  I  leaned
     down to get  a better look  and smelled her  aroma wafting strongly  up
     from between her legs.  Looking back through the dark currents of time,
     I realize that I have associated the strong aroma of aroused  womanhood
     with that moment in my development.  I rested my face against her thigh
     as I poked and  prodded her clit,  flicking it back  and forth, up  and
     down as her  legs unconsciously shivered,  alternately trying to  clasp
     and release my hand as it continued its pleasurable explorations.  As I
     stroked her, I  felt the moisture  increasing and I  slid my open  palm
     against her  pubic  bone,  trapping her  clit  against  the  unyielding
     hardness as I rotated my hand, rubbing and squeezing the erect button.

         With another loud moan, she climaxed again, her hips jerking up and
     down, nearly dislodging my  head from its resting  place on her  thigh.
     "Oh God, don't stop.  Don't stop  now.  Keep rubbing me.  KEEP  RUBBING
     ME.  KeepRubbingMe.  Keeprubbingme."

         Her climax lasted for about two  minutes as I continued to use  the
     heel of my  hand on her  clit, continuing her  pleasure.  Suddenly  her
     body relaxed and seemed to collapse on the seat as her hands  fluttered
     at her crotch, trying to push my hands away.  "Oh, please stop.  That's
     enough for now.  My poor clit is  so tender.  Stop and let me catch  my
     breath."

         We both sat up with  our backs against the  seat.  "That was  truly
     wonderful," she said, taking my hand in hers and kissing the back of my
     fingers.  "I really did enjoy it.  Give me a minute to catch my  breath
     and I'll do you too."

         As we sat there, I reached over  and began to play with her  nipple
     again, softly touching it and the  entire surface of her small  breasts
     as we shared a cigarette, the  red glow illuminating her naked body  as
     she drew deeply of its addictive smoke.

         When she finished  the smoke, she  threw it out  the window  before
     turning to  me and  placing her  hand on  my crotch.   "Take  off  your
     shirt," she  requested  as  she  continued  to  stroke  my  prick.    I
     unbuttoned and removed it, throwing it  into the front seat along  with
     hers.  Her lips  and tongue danced  on my chest as  she worked her  way
     from my neck to my beltline, pausing to flick wetly at my nipples,  the
     sensation causing me to groan with pleasure.  She took one nipple  into
     her lips and sucked it hard, her mouth hollowing with the vacuum.

         Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my  nipple.  She had bitten me!   I
     jerked back  with surprise  and I  felt her  teeth grating  against  my
     sensitive bud as it pulled free.   "Come back here.  Pleasure and  pain
     are nearly one," she said as she  grabbed my hair and pulled her  mouth
     back to my chest, capturing the red nubbin in her mouth.

         Now that I knew what to expect, it felt funny; strangely erotic and
     strangely forbidden.  I  never knew that  men's nipples were  sensitive
     before Vickie took me in hand  (mouth, really) and taught me that  pain
     can be a pleasure in the right circumstances.

         I felt her hands at my belt and fly, and I lifted my hips as I felt
     her start  to slide  my pants  down,  leaving me  naked from  my  knees
     upward.   I could  see the  wetness  of my  pre-cum coating  the  angry
     redness of my cockhead as it poked up from my belly at a thirty  degree
     angle.

         She twisted her body so that,  while she continued to nibble at  my
     nipple, her tits brushed across my prick, her hard nipples poking  into
     my strength.  I was confused  and pleased simultaneously.  This  wasn't
     what I had expected.  I was ready mentally, even if not experiencially,
     to put my cock inside her pussy.  I had studied the sex book I found in
     my father's closet and I knew that my cock was designed to fit into her
     cunt.  But the book hadn't said anything about nipple biting and nipple
     rubbing and tit fucking.  I felt her hand go to the base of my cock  as
     she rubbed it back and forth over her hard nipple, the friction causing
     me great pleasure and great pain from the tickling sensations.  My hips
     jerked involuntarily  as I  gave myself  up to  the sensuality  of  the
     situation.

         I felt the semen rising in my  cock as it started its journey  from
     my balls,  and it  felt  as if  it was  nearly  burning as  I  erupted,
     covering her chest  with my  seed, her  teeth digging  in even  harder.
     Each time my spasms would subside, she would bite me again and  another
     spasm would shoot some more cum onto her.

         Finally I was dry and her teeth were becoming unpleasantly painful.
     I tried to force her  head away, but she kept  her face on my chest  as
     she changed to suckling and licking the tortured bud of my nipple,  the
     sweat from my body mingling with the cum covering hers to make both  of
     us slippery.

         She sat up and, while  watching my face, began  to rub my cum  into
     her skin, the  white globs  of cum oozing  between her  fingers as  she
     captured more and more of my love juices.

         "Did you like that?  I love to  feel cum on my titties.  I like  to
     feel its heat and smoothness against my skin.  I wish I could have some
     every night so  I could  rub it  in like this,"  she said  as her  body
     glistened in the streetlight.

         As I tried to catch my breath, I  could only nod my agreement.   If
     she could be this erotic while she was off the roof, what would she  do
     when she was finished?   For a minute I  thought that we were  finished
     for the night, but she had other ideas.  She leaned forward so that our
     chests touched, her hard  nipples digging into my  pectorals as I  felt
     her body  sliding  across mine,  my  cum  and my  sweat  providing  the
     lubrication.  It  felt wonderful!   Her soft  lips found  mine and  she
     poked her tongue between my lips, forcing its way into my mouth as  her
     hands started to search  for my nipples.   She found  both of them  and
     again started  pinching and  twisting  them, occasionally  letting  her
     fingernails dig  in  sharply and  causing  my  cock to  stir  from  its
     lethargy and begin to snake its way upward, bumping into her side as it
     jerked involuntarily.

         Giggling, she breathed into my mouth,  "Are you ready so soon?   Do
     you want  me to  do  it AGAIN?"  with the  emphasis  on the  last  word
     implying that she really didn't  believe it.  "Sit  back and let me  do
     you slowly, touch you slowly  so that it lasts,  while I tell you  what
     we're going to do next weekend."

         My mind is nearly a complete blank.  I remember her telling me that
     we were going to go down near  the river where we could be alone,  that
     we were going to make love on a blanket, that we were going to be naked
     and together under the stars; and I remember that she kept me right  on
     the edge of my third orgasm of the night, but she wouldn't let me  cum.
     Every time my body rose  towards the apex, she  would slow down or  she
     would stop completely and simply continue kissing me with her lips  and
     tongue.  Vaguely I remember my voice, sounding as if it was coming from
     some movie  screen, begging  her to  let me  cum, nearly  crying in  my
     frustration as the sensations welled up, only to be capped just  before
     completion.  My entire  being was wrapped up  in a small, thin  sixteen
     year old girl with knowledge beyond her years.

         Finally, she stuck her tongue in my ear and licked it wetly as  she
     whispered that it was time, that she was  also ready to cum.  I  hadn't
     been touching her,  at her insistence,  but now my  hand found its  way
     back under her  skirt to  rub at the  erect nubbin  at the  top of  her
     slippery wet lips.  As soon as I touched it, she groaned and I felt her
     hips spasm  as she  worked  herself against  my  fingers, her  own  now
     rubbing frantically up  and down my  cock, no longer  slippery but  hot
     with the friction  of her  movements as the  loose skin  slid back  and
     forth over the sensitive nerve endings, causing me to erupt again, this
     time on my own chest and belly.  Her hand started the milking motion on
     my cock head  again, my cum  giving sufficient lubrication  so that  it
     wasn't painful,  and I  remember  moaning her  name  as my  hip  spasms
     started to subside.

         Somehow I remember going  down to the lake  to wash off, her  chest
     glistening in the streetlights as she bathed my cum from her body,  her
     skin shivering with the icy coldness of the water.  I remember  holding
     her in my  arms, giving my  warmth to  her and shielding  her from  the
     world, and I remember  arriving back at her  house just before  curfew,
     but the memories are too vague to be recounted.

         Needless to say,  my thoughts for  the next week  would be  colored
     with the memories of what we had done in the backs seat of my Ford  and
     fantasies about what we would do on the river next week, the subject of
     another chapter in this series.

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