Chapter 1 Life with Mother

I was at the office when my cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID and it was my sister Ella. I had not heard from her in some time…not since her husband died a little over a year ago. As I answered, I wondered what catastrophe happened now. “Hello sis.”

“John, dad died this morning,” she greeted me.

“Oh,” I said. I wanted to say good riddance, but I was able to hold my tongue.

“I know you and he did not get along, but you are coming to the funeral…” as usual she left the question unfinished. I did not answer immediately so she continued, “Mother is expecting you.”

“I’ll drive down tomorrow,” I said.

“Why can’t you come today?”

“I can’t just walk off the job any time I want. The boss won’t be too happy about my not being here for the next three days,” I explained.

“Can’t you come after work? It is only a three-hour drive,” she persisted.

“Okay, I will be there about nine. Where am I staying?” I asked.

“You can stay in my spare bedroom,” she offered.

“Just so I don’t have to stay with mom,” I commented. Then I added, “She won’t be at your place.”

“No, no, just me. See you by nine or I’ll start worrying,” she said, sounding like our mother.

The rest of the day I concentrated on my work but once I got in the car and headed down the freeway, I started thinking about how my father was never there. When I was young, it was his business that occupied his time. Then the summer I turned 12 and my sister turned 16 is the summer our father lost his business and could not seem to find work. My mother, who had no experience, went job hunting and the very first day landed a job as a receptionist for a real estate firm making good money.

My sister explained to me that one of the reasons she got that job was that the firm wanted an attractive woman like mother as a receptionist. I think that remark caused me to enter my teen years a year early because I began comparing women to our mother and all girls to my sister who was on her way to being just as beautiful as our mother.

Our parents were always, if I remember correctly, on the edge of an argument but with mother working and father unable to find work they began to argue over everything, even bringing up old unresolved disagreements. These arguments always seemed to turn into shouting matches after my sister and I were sent to bed. With my bedroom next to our parents I could not get to sleep because of the shouting that seemed to be never-ending. One night I crept, in the dark, out of my room and across the hall to my sister’s room. I closed the door behind me. It was pitch black in her room, so I whispered, “Ella…sis, are you awake?”

A bedside lamp turned on, blinding me, and my sister asked, “What is it?”

“Mom and dad…they are yelling again,” I replied.

“I know, sweetheart.” She always called me sweetheart when I hurt myself and this time it also seemed appropriate. My eyes became accustom to the light as she said, “Come here and get in bed with me.” That is just what I was about to ask if I could do. I ran to her bed as she flipped the blanket back. I jumped into her arms. She covered us and turned out the light.

I did not realize until that moment, I was shivering. It was not from being cold but from hearing our parent’s angry words. Ella held me tight and covered my ears with her hands. Soon I was no longer shivering. It was not long before I went to sleep. This happened every night for a week. But then since neither parent ever did more than to yell at us when it was bedtime, I started going to her room right after I dressed for bed. I sometimes entered her room before she was in her night gown. Truthfully, I did notice her nudity, but it did not seem like anything special, interesting but not special. At that point I don’t think I had started thinking about her other than as a protector or shield from the angry voices coming from our parent’s room.

Soon after school started that year, I noted that our father was not anywhere to be seen. When mom called us for dinner, I noted that there was no plate set for him. I asked, “Mom, where’s dad?” Mom look at me a moment and then turned her back to me. Ella spoke from behind me as she entered the room, “Daddy has gone out of town to a job.”

Mother, still facing the other way, said, “Ella, you don’t know that.”

“But momma, he wouldn’t just leave,” Ella said.

“He took off with all our savings—every last penny. Closed the account yesterday without saying anything to me,” mother said. Although she was trying to hide it by keeping her back to us, we knew she was crying.

“How much did you have in savings?” Ella asked.

“Not much, a few hundred, but he should have asked me. He just snuck off like a thief in the night,” mother said before she fled to her bedroom.

Ella sat me at the table and filled up my plate. I ate my normal amount, but Ella just pushed the food around on her plate. I asked her why she was not eating. She said she was not hungry. “If momma was here, she would say, ‘Eat anyway,’” I said. She jumped up and ran to her room.

That is how I remember the day our father disappeared for six years. I did not know it for a year or two but nearly once a week mother would receive an envelope in the mail with money in it with no letter of explanation or anything. She could tell by the postmark from where it was mailed. He never seemed to spend more than six months in one place and the amount of money was not enough to raise two kids on, so mother had to continue working.

There were no more shouting matches, so Ella told me I could sleep in my own bed. Those first few nights I found it very hard to get to sleep because I had become quite accustomed to sleeping in my sister’s arms. We fell into a peaceful routine. I did well in school as did Ella.

Then about six months after our father left, mother started coming home about our bedtime saying she had to work late. At first this only happened once a week but when it began to happen nearly every night, Ella questioned mother about it. The shouting began as I headed to my bed but shortly Ella went to her room and the house quieted down except every few minutes, I could hear mother shout a word or two.

When this happened three nights in a row, I slipped into Ella’s room shortly after she had gone to her room. She was just slipping her nightgown on. I asked her why she and mother were shouting at each other. “Just go to bed. It won’t happen again.”

“Did I hear something about working and drinking?” I asked.

“Well if you heard that I may as well tell you everything. Come sit on the bed. As you know, our mother is an alcoholic. Not a staggering, falling-down drunk alcoholic but the type who can handle the booze pretty well, but she loses her sense of judgement.” Ella fell silent. I think she was trying to decide how much to tell her 12-year-old brother. I waited and suddenly she said, “Oh hell, I will just tell you. Mother has been known to have a few drinks and then go to bed with the man who bought the drinks.”

My 12-year-old mind said but she is going to bed here at home. Then it hit me, and I said, “You mean having sex?”

“Yes, that is what I meant,” Ella said, “I just did not want it to sound that awful.”

“Well so what? Dad left her,” I responded.

“I suppose you are right, but she could have a baby,” Ella said. As I thought it my sister said, “I don’t want another baby brother or sister.”

As it turned out mother reformed her drinking by only doing it once every three or four weeks and then only on a Friday. Ella showed her disapproval by refusing to speak to her. Mother turned to me and I decided that Ella was right. When mother found there was no one to listen to her she would go to her room and shout at the walls. On those nights I would go to my sister’s room and fall asleep with her hands over my ears.

Then one day the spring before I turned 15, I came home to find my sister gone. When mother got home, she claimed she had no idea where Ella was. The next night, which was a Friday, mother did not get home until after I had gone to bed. I was awakened by mother shouting at the walls. My sister was not there to cover my ears, but I still went to her room to sleep. After this happened three or four times in the next couple of months, I decided to change rooms.

I do not believe mother noticed the change until the following winter. Her hours at work were cut back from 40 hours per week to 30 hours per week so she decided we had to cut back on expenses. One of the ways of cutting back was her moving me into her bedroom and closing off the heating vents to the other two bedrooms. When I say she moved me, I should have said she said, “Grab your things. Bring them to my room. You are sleeping with me the rest of the winter.” When I asked why she shouted, “I told you why. I am not getting paid as much as I was.”

I waited until she came to bed to ask, “How does your getting paid less mean I have to sleep with you?”

“We have to cut back so I turned off the heat to your room. Do I have to explain everything to you? Now go to sleep.”

It worked out quite well, since I was almost always asleep before she came to bed and I was off to school before she woke up. However, the first Friday she came home late and could not get the key in the lock, she started knocking on the door with her shoe. I got out of bed in my night shirt and opened the door for her. She stepped over the threshold with one shoe on and one shoe off and fell flat on her face. Maybe it was the alcohol she had consumed, the bump on the head, or a combination of both; but she could not stand. In fact, she just wanted to flop out on the floor. If it would have been today, I would call 911 but we had not even imagined the concept of 911.

I could have called a neighbor, but I knew mother would have objected to their involvement. Instead, I dragged her on a throw-rug through the kitchen, into the hall, and into her bedroom. There I struggled to get her partway on the bed.

I was about to leave her that way when she said, “Well take my dammed cloths off.” So, I stared with the obvious, her skirt. Once it was removed, I began working on her thigh high tan nylon stockings held up by a garter belt. Now below the waist she had on only a pair of white panties. I began unbuttoning her blouse when she asked, “What’s takin’ yah so long?” I tried to hurry and popped a button off.

There she was, half on the bed, on her back, only in her bra and panties and she shouted, “Get me out of this dammed bra.” I tugged on it and it would not come up over her ample breasts. I remembered that Ella’s bras hooked in the back, so I struggled trying to turn mother over. She suddenly rolled over, causing me to lose my balance and fall on her. She shouted, “Not now, you fucker!”

I stood and looked down at her with her face down on the bed and her knees on the floor. She was shouting at me like she always shouted at my father. I felt like walking away and leaving her there, but I reached down and with a flick of my finger released the hook in her bra. She turned her head and shouted, “It’s about time, now my pants. You lazy bum!” Not too gently I hooked my fingers in her panties and yanked them down. It was then I noted a large discharge stain in her panties and an unpleasant unfamiliar odor.

I looked at her backside and realized I could see her pussy with gobs of something caked in the hair around it. I felt embarrassed looking at her private area. But before I could think of anything else, she shouted, “If you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, otherwise cover me up.” I covered her with the winter quilt and went to the kitchen where I got a glass of milk. Sitting at the table I sipped my milk and thought about what had just happened. I was sure that mother had thought she was talking to her husband.

I did not want to go to bed with my mother, but I had to. I woke at my usual time. Mother had not changed positions. She still had her knees on the floor, I ate my usual breakfast, did the usual household chores. Mother did not wake until just before noon. She came to the kitchen in her wrap around robe. She said nothing until she had brewed some coffee and taken a sip. Then she asked, “Did you put me to bed?”

“I did,” I said.

“I’m sorry you had to,” she said. After two more sips of coffee she asked, “You undressed me?”

“Yes,” I responded.

Mother sipped some more coffee and said, “If I ever again come home like that, don’t do anything for me. Don’t undress me, don’t put me to bed, nothing.” I gave no answer, so she asked, “Okay?”

I agreed with, “Okay.”

Two weeks later she made it all the way to the bedroom, waking me when she fell half on the bed. I got up, covered her, turned out the lights, and went back to bed.

By late spring, when we no longer required heat, I moved back to my room and there I was not bothered by mother coming home late. But by the time October rolled around I was back in her room. No one told me how wrong it was for a teen boy to sleep in the same bed with his mother. One Saturday morning I woke early when mother rolled over laying her bare leg across my thighs. Half awake, she said, “Come on honey, it has been so long since we fucked.”

I said to myself, she thinks I’m dad. I got an instant erection and wondered what she would do if I fucked her. I resolved to fuck her someday but not that day. I had only begun to masturbate. Somehow, I determined that I was not old enough. I thought that maybe in a year or two. I scooted out from under her leg, went to the bath room, and beat off with vision of my cock going in and out of my mother’s pussy.

Not more than four weeks later I was awakened when mother came home. This time she knocked something over before entering her bed room which woke me, but I pretended to be asleep. She was staggering but able to stay on her feet. She turned on the light in her room and turned off all other lights. Then she stood in front of her dressing mirror and slowly undressed. She then did something that surprised me—she began running her hands over her breasts. She pulled on her nipples and they seemed to grow. They had grown right along with my dick. Her hands now went down to her groin where one hand appeared to disappear inside while the other hand began to rub at the front of her pussy. A soft moan came from her mouth.

I could not help what I did next—I sat up to get a better look because the dressing mirror did not give me a complete view and mother had her back to me. She saw my movement in the mirror, immediately removed her hands, and turned around. I rubbed my eyes sleepily but not before impressing on my mind a picture of my beautiful naked mother. A picture I would masturbate to for some time.

When I stopped rubbing my eyes and looked at mother, she was staring at me like she was trying to determine who I was. She was not trying to cover herself or anything. She then turned back to the mirror, looked closely at her face, closed her eyes, and fell back on the bed. Her head had come just short of hitting my thigh. Looking at her face-up on the bed, with her smooth round breasts, erect nipples mounted on pink puckered areolas, and her flat belly above the triangle of golden hair; I thought her to be the most beautiful thing on earth. And another picture to alternate with the first.

I asked if she was okay and she slurred out, “I’m fine.”

I asked if she wanted covered and she snapped for me to go to sleep. Instead I got up and went to the bathroom where I beat off having the most copious ejaculation to that point in my life. When I came back, I asked in a loud voice, “Mom are you awake?” Getting no answer, I decided to see what else I might be able to see. Her knees were parted about 10 to 12 inches. I could see her pussy, but it appeared as a single fold of skin surrounded by short golden hair. I wondered what was inside. (If one never saw an open mouth one would never know about teeth and tongues.) I could not go on without opening that pussy.

I touched both knees, one with each of my hands. She did not react in anyway. I slowly moved her knees farther apart. Her pussy opened slightly. I could not open her knees further without lifting her knees so I lifter her knees and spread them. Her pussy was opening so that I could see her bright pink inner lips just opening to reveal their secrets and there seemed to me much creamy juice present. I was about to dip a finger in her juicy pussy when her entire hand beat me to it.

I watched as her hand pulled a bunch of her juice up to the front of her pussy where I later learned a woman’s clitoris was and she began rubbing. Still holding her knees and spreading her open to my view I asked in a loud voice, “Mom, what are you doing?” Getting no response, I continued to spread her legs farther apart and watch her pussy open further and leak thick liquid as she continued to stroke her clit. Suddenly she pulled her knees out of my hands and to her chest while moaning quite loudly and keeling over on her side.

I could see her pussy partially open, all wet, and inflamed and my hard dick sticking out from under my night shit pointing right at it. I was about to venture forward when she said, “Leave me alone and go to sleep.” Once again, I went to the bathroom and jacked off.

When I came back, she was under the covers and I asked if she was awake. She told me to go to sleep.

Chapter 2 Summer in LA

Little else of note happened that winter. Of course, come spring and warm weather I moved back to my bedroom. Then when school let out for the summer, I received a letter from my sister Ella. She had married, and she was inviting me to LA for a visit. She even provided me with a bus ticket and a little money with which I was to buy meals when the driver told us it was a meal stop.

My mother had never ridden a Greyhound bus and was very fearful of my getting lost or worse murdered. She did not want me to go. She was fearful I would never come back like her daughter had done. After trying to talk me out of going she tried to figure out ways of keeping me from going. The night before my departure she cried. After I went to sleep, she woke me as she sobbed over me like I had died. I had to wake her in the morning to take me to the bus depot. Luckily, she had slept in her cloths, so I did not have to dress her. She was crying so much I was sure we would wreck but we made it to the depot in time. I had to tear myself from her grasp to get on the bus. You would have thought I was going into battle.

The bus trip was memorable but in no way a part of this story. It did last most of two days and a night but there waiting for me was my sister when the bus arrived on time at the LA depot. I had built up quite an animosity toward my sister for leaving me alone with our mother. I had intended to let her know how I felt but the instant I saw her I got a warm feeling of love and all the bad feelings were washed away.

My sister looked the same as I remembered except her hair was done differently and she walked with assurance that she knew where she was going. She drove a newer car than mother and drove as if she had learned to drive on the streets of LA. I barely had time to look around before we were at her home. Ed, her husband, was at work. I would meet him later. Her in-laws, also at work, lived next door or I should say, their back yards joined. After settling-in, I was told that her 17-year-old sister-in-law, Shirley, would have time to show me around LA since my sister could not get time off from work. I was told I would meet everyone at dinner and I had a little time if I wanted to lay down for a nap.

I did not need a nap, but I went to my room, blocking the door with my suitcase just in case sis opened it. I then proceeded to jack off since I had gone a whole two days since doing so and that was unprecedented for me at that time. After a satisfying cum into a handkerchief, I lay down on the bed and continued to pleasure myself until I was hard again. I jacked off a second time and only then did I feel relieved enough to be satisfied. I did not even notice the eye of a 17-year-old girl peeking through a tiny hole in the window blind.

At dinner I met Ed who was a big man, not only tall but broad and muscular. He was a plumber and he seemed to have no time for me. He was only interested in talking with his father about baseball. The Dodgers would be on TV that evening. My sister did not interrupt their conversation to introduce me to her father-in-law. The mother-in-law only smiled and continued to put food on the table. Sister-in-law Shirley was quite friendly. I had never had a girl near my age be at all interested in me in any way. She seemed to ask all the right question to get me to talk about myself. I did not learn much about her except she had a driver’s license and was excited about showing me the sights of LA.

Ella later explained to me that Shirley’s identical twin sister, Sharlene, had died of a sudden illness only a few months earlier. Shirley had only recently started to get over the loss of her twin. I was told to be good to Shirley and go along with whatever she said. “Don’t ask her about her sister,” Ella said.

I had not really looked at Shirley at dinner, all I had noticed was she had a lot of long blond hair which she seemed to continuously be tucking behind her ear. Everyone else had gone to work, as she served me a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon. I noted her hair was up in a pony tail and she no longer distracted me by having to tuck it behind her ear. She had a smile on her lips along with a thin coat of pail pink lipstick. I think that was the only makeup she wore. Her skin seemed to have a golden glow. Her blue eyes had a sparkle to them. She was as tall as I was and had all the curves of a mature woman. I was so flattered that she was even talking to me let alone that she was telling me all the places we would see.

As we went from place to place that day, she would ask me if I wanted to see “this” or “that.” And the truth was I just wanted to be with her when we saw “this” or “that.” I became so smitten with her that soon it became a chore to keep my hard-on from showing. We ate someplace where movie stars were supposed to eat but there were none that day, but I would not have seen them because I only saw Shirley. We toured a couple of movie studios in the afternoon. I walked behind Shirley, watching her every move. I hardly noted what we were being shown because all I could see was this pretty girl that was giving me so much attention. Sometime during the second tour she had taken my hand in hers and suddenly it seemed I had graduated from the boy she was obligated to show around to that of a boyfriend. At that point I did not know how she felt but I knew I was in love.

We had dinner with her parents and her brother, my sister had to work late, but I hardly noticed any of them as all I could see was Shirley as she talked about the movie we were going to that evening. She told me that after dinner we would only have about an hour before we left for the movie and she wanted me to dress in my best cloths. After dinner I went to my room and stripped down, jacked off twice and dressed in my best. When Shirley was ready to go, I was ready. I don’t remember the movie we saw. It did not matter for she held my hand from the time we left the car until we returned to the car except when we were eating popcorn and going to the bathroom. Still all I could think was I was with my girl.

Suddenly, as we were quietly driving home, and I was wondering how it would feel to kiss her, she pulled the car into a secluded place, turning off the lights and engine. My heart was racing and pounding in my ears when she said, “I could not really see what I wanted to see because your back was turned most of the time.”

“What? When…when was my back turned?” I asked with some confusion.

“You know when you were in your room when you uh…,” she hesitated. “Uh…what do you call it? Pounded your meat? Beat off?” I did not know girls knew about that. I was stunned into silence. My heart seemed to have stopped beating as well. She broke the silence by saying, “Come on, I know what all guys do when they are alone. They pull out their peter, dick, or cock (Whatever they call it.) then pretend their screwing a girl while they wrap a hand around it and stroke up and down. I saw you in your room yesterday and today.”

“You saw me in my room?” I said in a higher than normal voice.

“I saw a lot but, except for when you were laying on your bed, your back was to me,” she confessed. I tried to understand what she was saying when she added, “I want to see it now. It must be as hard as a rock.”

It was. I asked, “You? You want to see it?”

“Come on, don’t be shy. Show me you dick,” she insisted. All that I could think was this is not right. I am not supposed to show her. “I’ll show you my tits if you show me your dick,” she added. All I really heard was, “I’ll show you my tits.” Bargaining was over.

Who wouldn’t say okay to that? Which I did. As she raised her light sweater and unhooked her bra, I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and lowered my pants and shorts. In the dim street lights my eyes were glued to her firm young breasts as my dick flopped out in its full glory.

“My oh my,” she said as I studied her tits. The only other tits I could compare them to is my mother’s. These looked younger and less developed. Yes, they compared nicely. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

“My dick? No, it doesn’t hurt but my balls do,” I responded.

“Why do your balls hurt?” she asked.

“Because they have been producing stuff all day and haven’t been able to release it. It is all kind ‘o backed up there,” I explained.

One of her fingers reached out to touch the head of my dick as she said, “Oh, then boys beat off for relief and not because your perverts.” I gently stroked my dick. “You want to beat off now?” she asked.

“Yes, unless you want to do it?” I asked.

“Could I really?” she enthused.

“Sure, go ahead,” I encouraged.

She reached out with her right hand and wrapped it around my dick then asked, “How do you do it?”

“It is best if you lick you hand to make it slick,” I advised.

“You lick it,” she said, holding her palm up for me to lick. I put a generous amount of saliva on it before allowing her to return her hand to my dick. She began gently stroking.

“You can grip it little tighter,” I instructed. The feeling of her fingers on my dick was quite exhilarating this being the first time anyone other than myself had touched me there. I felt like I was about to explode already.

“This tight enough?” she asked as she gripped more firmly.

“Oh yeah!” I exclaimed

“How long does it usually take?” she inquired.

Trying to hold back, I said, “Not long,” between short breaths. I pulled a fresh handkerchief out of my hip pocket, shook it to unfold it and spread it out on my lap. Again, my eyes went to her breasts. The devil in my mind said, touch them. I reached out with both hands and cupped her breasts. She said nothing, so I gripped each more firmly and flicked my thumbs over each nipple.

“Mmm…good,” she moaned. The sound of pleasure in her voice was all it took to cause me to explode. The first thick creamy shot of my ejaculate went beyond the handkerchief landing on Shirley’s knee. She stopped moving her hand as she watch the next four shots land on the handkerchief. The next four surges were little more than dribbles that ran down over her hand. She gripped my dick firmly as she said, “You’re pinching my tits.”

I released the grip I had inadvertently applied to her breasts and said, “I’m sorry,” as I picked up and folded the handkerchief, then wiped her knee.

“It’s okay,” she said as she sniffed of her hand. She licked the cum on her hand. “Mm, tastes sweet and salty…not bad.” She licked again. “Mm…maybe not good either,” she said with a shiver. She grabbed the handkerchief from me and wiped her hand. Handing it back to me she said, “That’s all wet,”

After we had both restored our cloths to their former places and she had once again started driving toward her home she asked, “Do girls really suck on dicks?”

“I don’t know. I have never had one suck on mine,” I replied.

“No and I suppose you are going to tell me that before tonight you have never had a girl touch your dick,” she stated as she drove through the dark streets with very light traffic.

“I haven’t,” I said.

After a short silence she asked, “You won’t tell anybody will you?”

“No.”

“’Cause if you do, I won’t do it again. In fact, I will do it every day if you don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anybody, I promise.”

When I was back in my room that evening all I could think about was Shirley with her hand wrapped around my dick until I fell asleep. The next day as we drove to Knotts Berry Farm (an amusement park) all I could think of was her fingers on the steering wheel instead of being wrapped around my dick. On a ride all I saw was her holding onto a safety bar during the whole ride instead of my dick. I could think of nothing all day, but her fingers wrapped around something other than my dick.

Instead of going out to a movie that evening, we were staying in, watching something stupid on her parents new 21-inch color TV. I had never watched much TV. About midway through some variety show Shirley tugged my hand as she stood up. As I stood up, I saw she had a finger to her lips indicating I was to be quiet. I assumed I was to quietly follow her while she led me through the kitchen and out the back door. We went across the back yards to my sister’s house where Shirley entered and led me to my room.

Once in my room she turned to me and said, “Bet you were thinking that I was never going to get around to playing with your dick.”

“Uh huh,” I stupidly said.

“Don’t need this,” she said as she turned off the light that I had turned on when I entered the room. She then went to the window and raised the blind saying, “This will give us enough light from the streetlights and now that it is growing dark, Ella will turn on the back-porch light on my parent’s house when she comes home, and it will shine in here to warn us.”

I thought, she thinks of everything, when she said, “Well, drop those pants now.” They were down in an instant with my hard dick pointing up away from its two aching companions.

“You got a new kerchief?” She asked as she wrapped her fingers around Mr. Dick.

“Right here,” I said as I reached down to my hip pocket, extracted the handkerchief from my pocket, shook it out, and held it ready to catch my cum.

“Sit on the bed,” she said as she gently pushed me backward. I sat and started to remove my pants from around my ankles. “No, leave them on in case you need to pull them up quickly,” she said. She is still thinking of everything, I thought. She dropped some spit on my dick to lubricate it.

The pressure had been building all day, so I was sure this would not take long. She was using a firm grip and stroking rapidly. I was sure it would not take long. She stopped and asked,” Want to feel my tits?”

“Sure!” I said.

“Just put your hand under my shirt,” she instructed. When I did, I found no bra. She began stroking again. This will not take long I thought as I concentrated on the feel of her nipple between my thumb and forefinger of my left hand. With the first strong surge I had the handkerchief over my dick, she removed her hand, four more nearly as strong surges, and four diminishing surges and it was all over.

“That did not take long. Want to lie down and I’ll play with it to get it hard, so we can do it again?” I laid back and she moved to where she could reach my dick and I could reach her tits. In less than fifteen minutes I was hard again. “Got another kerchief?” she asked.

I reached to my hip pocket where I extracted a fresh handkerchief, shook it out, and held it at the ready. Shirley took it from me. Wiped all around my dick, took a deep breath, and leaned forward taking my dick in her mouth. The sensation was even more marvelous than her hand wrapped around it. “Oh wow,” I said, adding, “That is wonderful.”

She raised up letting my dick flop on my stomach. “You like that? This may be only a one-time thing. Don’t you dare shoot in my mouth.” With that said she resumed my first blowjob. I was in heaven. When the first indication of ejaculation occurred, I told her. She covered my dick with the cloth and stood to go. While I was taking care of it, she said, “Stay here. Tell you sister you came here alone. You don’t know where I am.”

I thought sure we would run out of things to see but every day there was something new. In the evenings we would often go to a movie and on the way home she would stop and most often give me a blowjob. She always figured out how to get me off.

The first Sunday her family was having a barbecue in the back yard with other family invited. Shirley had several cousins our age. The boys all had to show off how they could walk on their hands. Shirley said, “That is nothing, watch me.” She flipped up on her hands and began to walk. The difference was that she was wearing a dress which exposed her white panties for all to view. Both her mother and an aunt told her within my hearing that that was not very lady like.

Some of her male cousins goaded me into trying it and I fell flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me. Shirley came running to be sure I had not hurt myself. When she was sure I was alright she whispered in my ear, “Did you like my panties?”

When I said I did one of her male cousins started chanting. “Shirley’s got a boyfriend.” She chased him around the outside of the house.

When she stopped chasing him, she whispered in my ear, “Did they make you hard?” I told her yes. He started chanting again and she started chasing him again.

That Sunday Shirley had no chance to give me a blowjob so when I went to bed I decided to jackoff. I had no sooner started when I heard a scratching noise at the window. I raised the blind and there she was trying to open the window. I opened it and she stepped over the sill. She whispered, “Get in bed.”

She whipped her dress off over her head and there she stood in her panties. She slipped under the covers with me. She then kissed me on the lips. First it was a chased kiss but soon I felt her tongue trying to part my lips. Soon I felt her tongue in my mouth and mine in hers. This seemed more thrilling than a blowjob.

When she had tired of kissing, she whispered, “Tonight you get to smell of my pussy while I give you a blowjob.” Quickly she spun around so she could take my dick in her mouth and placed her pants covered pussy right over my nose. I was afraid it might smell bad, but it smelled good. Like nothing else I had ever smelled but it smelled good. I grasped her butt cheeks, one in each hand. Then before I could warn her, I blew. She hung on and swallowed. I think she swallowed all of it. She sucked the last drops out and then sat up. “Want to lick me until you get hard again?” she whispered.

“What?” I whispered back. I had never heard of licking a girl.

“Did you like the smell?” she whispered. I agreed that I had, and she whispered, “Then you will like the taste.” She took off her white panties and positioned herself. Since there was no light on in the room, I could not see what I was supposed to lick. I stuck out my tongue and licked. It was good. It was so juicy. I had to swallow numerous times as her juices seemed to flow continuously. When I grew hard again I held on as she went down on me again. I did not know anything about the 69 position, but we were doing it. When I blew the second time, she thrust her pussy into my mouth filling it with her juices. I was fearful it was pee, but it was her sweet-salty nectar.

There seemed to be an endless number of attractions in and around LA. Every day we went on tours or visited parks or some other place. The day we went to the beach was a little different since my sister was the one who took us. When we arrived at Long Beach my sister said to me, “I know how easily you burn so you are only allowed ten minutes.” What can you do in just ten minutes? Ella stayed in the car while Shirley and I ran down the beach to the water. We waded in but, me being a non-swimmer, I was reluctant to go deeper than waist deep. Shirley encouraged me to go a little farther. Then she felt me up causing me to get a boner. When my sister started yelling from the car for us to come back, I walked slowly up the beach hoping my boner would go down. It did not so I decided that if sis said anything, I would tell her that Shirley had caused it. Ella did not say a word about my boner.

In a way everything started to get boring. The tours we went on all seemed to be about actresses and actors, where they lived, where they worked, where they partied, where they died, etc. Even the blow job and pussy licking started to get old, but Shirley never wanted to do anything else. When it came time for me to go home, I was ready. I was on the bus for nearly a day when I remember what I was going home to. Tears came to my eyes when I realized there would be no more blowjobs or pussy licking. [Just in case there is someone out there who wonders why we did not go to Disneyland, there was a time before Disneyland.]

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