Bonnie McBride (MF, cons, 1st) There was a straight chair next to the sofa bed. Billy crept toward it, afraid the ancient floorboards would squeak, and stood very quietly when he got to the chair. A bra and a pair of panties were draped over the back of the chair. He reached out and fingered the bra briefly, then lifted it and held it to his nose. It smelled like detergent. He picked up the panties. They were lacy panties, but the crotch and back were silky smooth. He sniffed them. More detergent. It wasn't a woman scent -- a scent he didn't even know -- but the silky texture felt good against his lips and face. He turned and sat, holding the panties in his lap, and studied the woman on the sofa bed. The window shade had been drawn, but did little to keep out the brightness of a street light just outside the window. He could see her clearly. Bonnie McBride, Debbie McBride's mother, was sound asleep. She was completely unaware that he'd crept up the steps at the back of the house and into the tiny one-room apartment. She didn't look old enough to be Debbie's mother. They could have been sisters. He'd had a date with Debbie the night before. He'd gone to the little apartment to pick her up Friday night. That's when he met her mother, who answered the door. She took a long look at him. "Where are you taking Debbie?" she asked, moving back to let him in. Billy stepped through the doorway and took a step to the side, to get some distance between himself and her. "Um, well, I thought we'd maybe go to a movie. There's a good one at the drive-in this weekend." He was uneasy. She was pretty, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes away from the rise of her breasts, revealed because her blouse was open an extra button at the top. She was barefoot, and was wearing cut off jeans that revealed nice legs and accented the flare of her hips. He had heard stories about this woman. He did take Debbie to the drive-in, hoping that none of his friends would see him with her. The word was that she would fuck, and that was why he'd asked her out. Here he was, eighteen years old, bound for college in only a month, and still a virgin. It was time to correct this embarrassing situation. There weren't many girls in town who would put out. Debbie was supposedly one of the few. So was her mother, he'd heard. The evening began on a promising note. Debbie let him kiss her and play with her breasts, and she even let him unbutton her blouse and grope her tiny breasts outside the bra she was wearing. She even let him put her hand in his bulging lap. That's where it ended, though. The first time he'd tried to press his hand between her legs she pushed him away, telling him she didn't do that kind of thing, that her mother would find out and kill her. In the end he'd actually been both disappointed and relieved, the relief coming from knowing he wouldn't have to perform the act with a girl who was experienced, who would compare him with others. Billy went home and masturbated, imagining himself fucking Debbie's mother. Now here he was, sitting by this bed at one o'clock in the morning, watching Bonnie McBride sleep, wondering where Debbie was. His heart was pounding. He'd never done anything like this before, but he knew he could go to jail just for being there. Donnie Howell had told him about it. Donnie knew his way around. His older brother David was one of the Moon Men, a group of guys who had been out of high school for a few years, guys who never worked, simply hanging around in cars looking for trouble. "You can fuck that McBride's mother," Donnie said. "You can go in their apartment any time you want to," he said. "They never lock the door. The Moon Men do it all the time. They just go up the steps and open the door and crawl right in bed with her. She lets them fuck her. I even fucked her myself," Donnie added proudly. "Debbie was right there in the fuckin' bed. She watched." The panties were Bonnie's, he assumed. She was right in front of him. He could reach out and touch her breasts. He could just crawl in the bed with her and fuck her. He could just slip it right into her. He was already hard. He would just crawl right into the bed and put it to her. She would lie there quietly, holding him until he was done, and he would get up and thank her on his way out. But he was frozen in the chair. He was sure he knew what would happen: He would get his penis out and get on top of her, and as soon as he started to put it inside her he'd shoot off and ruin the whole thing. It had happened twice before, most recently with Janey Gonzales. He dated her for several weeks, and progressed to the point where she would let him do what Donnie Howell called a "dry fuck," lying between her legs and grinding against her crotch and abdomen until he ejaculated into his underwear. He was sure she knew what he was doing, and didn't seem to mind. It made sense that she'd let him fuck her if she'd let him dry fuck her. But when the moment came, when he lowered himself, legs angled awkwardly up against the car door, and tried to guide himself with his hand, searching, prodding her a couple of times, he came abruptly into the rubber, an unexpected disgrace, ending the evening. He looked down at the panties. They belonged to a woman who was old enough to be his mother, and he was planning to fuck her. He wondered if he could actually go through with it, or whether or not he would embarrass himself again. It was a warm evening and the apartment was hot. Bonnie had kicked back the covers so very little was hidden from him. She was on her back. He had little trouble making out the shape of her breasts, and he knew she was not wearing underpants. She couldn't be. He was holding them in his hands. Besides, he thought he could see a dark patch under her filmy gown. Billy raised the panties to his face again and rubbed his cheek with the silky fabric. What should he do? Should he take off his clothes and crawl into the bed, or should he just unzip his pants and leave them on while he fucked her? He continued to rub the panties on his cheek, trying to imagine what it might be like. He would stand by the bed, undressing as Bonnie watched. He would unbutton his shirt slowly, revealing well-developed chest and stomach muscles. He would allow the shirt to drop to the floor behind him. He would unbuckle his belt. She would reach out a hand to caress his muscled thigh. He would unbutton his jeans and begin unzipping his fly, very slowly, looking down at her as he did so. She would reach up and push his hand aside, pulling the zipper the rest of the way down. Then she would pull apart the top of his jeans, which would begin slowly sliding down his muscle-ridged thighs, until they were down far enough that his enormous pecker would spring out. He would not be wearing underwear, of course. She would gasp at the sight of his massive organ and reach up to touch it timidly. He would bend, grab two fists full of hair, and pull her up, forcing himself into her mouth, forcing her to accept every inch of him, and he would begin plunging in and out of her hot mouth, all the way down her throat. She would grip him by the hips and greedily pull him toward her, taking even more of him into her gullet. He would explode into her. Slowly, carefully, he stood and unzipped his jeans and pried out his cock. It was as hard as he could remember it ever being. He rubbed it with the silky panties. Maybe she wouldn't be awake. Maybe he would stand by the bed undressing, and as soon as he was naked he would put a leg over her, kneeling astride her, so that his enormous rigid tool would be suspended and swinging over her face when she opened her eyes. She would be overwhelmed by the size of his organ and would start showering it with kisses, holding it gently in both hands as his enormous balls grazed her breasts. Then she would pump him for a while, using both hands, and his balls would swing back and forth, hitting her puckered nipples. Then she would nestle him between her breasts, using both hands to push them up, surrounding him with her gentle flesh. At the last minute, just when he was about to go off, he would slide down and plunge himself into her and she would scream in gratitude when he discharged deep inside her. He unbuttoned the top of his jeans and pulled them down a little, then sat again, sliding down in the chair so that his body was nearly straight, and began stroking himself slowly with the silky panties. They slid up and down smoothly, cool silkiness against his hot skin. Maybe he would wake her up first. Maybe he would stand by the bed, bend down, and begin caressing her breasts. He would slide one hand down her flat stomach, over her smooth abdomen and into her silky pubic hair. She would awaken some time during this and reach up and begin trying to undress him, meanwhile grinding her mounded warmth against his hand. He would push her hands away and continue playing with her until she was about to go crazy with lust. Then he would undress and get on top of her, slipping between her smooth thighs and ramming her with his steel-hardened cock and she would scream in ecstasy two or three times before he would let himself go. He pulled the front of his underpants down tucked the elastic under his balls and started stroking himself again, faster than before, sliding the silky panties up and down, rolling his hips up and rubbing his balls with his other hand. He could feel the end approaching. Maybe she would want him to jack off for her first. He had often imagined that he was a performer, going to women's parties and masturbating for them and getting paid for it. In the bathroom at home he would stand on the toilet so he could watch himself in the medicine cabinet mirror, flogging himself and gyrating like a dancer, pretending there was a room full of women in front of him. The women in his imaginary audience would scream and applaud when he came, and his semen would fly everywhere. He was on the edge; it was about to happen. It was just a matter of time. He decided to go ahead with it and began moving his hand faster, sliding the silky panties up and down, bucking his hips, pretending she was watching raptly, feeling fluid start to move, ready to shoot into the panties while she watched wide-eyed -- Holy shit! Her eyes were open. Son of a bitch! Her eyes were open! She was watching him! Fuck! Billy clamped his hand, trying to stop the inevitable. It was too late. It happened. Suddenly he was coming, shooting right into the panties. She was watching him. He slumped in the chair, paralyzed, humiliated, unable to stop, helplessly squirting into the silky fabric while she quietly watched. He had to get out of there. He jumped up, still holding his penis and the defiled panties in one hand, yanking up his pants with the other hand, intending to run, to get out the door, to get out of this place. She reached out and grabbed his thigh just above his knee, freezing him. He looked down at her. She was up on one elbow, and her gown had twisted slightly, uncovering most of her breasts. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked, clearly angry. "Huh?" "Why are you here?" she asked. "What do you think you're doing, jerking off with my panties?" "Um..." He said, turning away, still hoping to get out of there. "Sit down right there," she said sternly. "If you leave, I'll call the police. Answer me. What are you doing here?" Billy sat, still holding himself inside the sodden bundle. She waited. He felt completely stupid. "Well, I... Is Debbie here?" "No she's not. She's spending the weekend with her father. Don't tell me you came here at one o'clock in the morning to see Debbie. Tell the truth. Were you planning to steal something, or rape somebody, or did you just intend to sneak in here and jack off, like a little kid?" "Oh, no!" he protested. "I wouldn't do that! I -- I just wanted to... I heard that you would... Well..." "Are you telling me that you came here to have sex me? Are you kidding? What made you think I would let you do that?" He had never been so ashamed. He had gotten caught jacking off -- something you're not supposed to do anyway -- and he was trespassing, like a burglar. This could ruin his entire life! He slumped in the chair. "Answer," she said. "Why in heaven's name did you think I'd have sex with you?" "Well, the Moon Men..." "Who? Moon Men? What Moon Men?" "Um, you know, David Howell and those other guys. They come up here all the time, don't they? Don't you let them, um, do it?" She fell back on the bed, laughing. "Those vagrants? Do you really think I would have sex with that pack of idiots? What did you call them? Moon Men? How incredibly tiresome and juvenile. Moon Men, for God's sake. I must be dreaming!" He felt stupid. He shouldn't have believed Donnie Howell. "I'm sorry," he said, almost whispering. "I just -- " "You just got stupid," she interrupted. "Let's see, Debbie said your name's Billy Miller, right?" "Yes ma'am." "And you actually came up here for sex?" She looked at him seriously now. "Are you telling me the truth? Were you really thinking I would have sex with you?" "Well, that's what they said and, well, see, I never, I've never done -- " "You've never done it?" Billy shook his head. He was immediately sorry he'd told her. It was hard to admit this. "Debbie said you graduated this year, right? Class of 1961?" "Yes. Um, I start college this fall," he said. "And you're still a virgin?" He nodded. "And you're an idiot. Right?" He nodded again, feeling his face redden. He was glad she hadn't turned on any lights. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I've never done anything so stupid." His throat tightened and tears welled in his eyes, embarrassing him even more. Shit! Crying like a fucking baby! She studied him carefully. Her breasts were partly exposed again in spite of his despair he was having trouble keeping his eyes off them. She was staring into his face, compelling him to meet her eyes. Abruptly she swung her legs to the floor and stood. "I have to use the bathroom. You stay right there," she said, plucking the panties out of his hand with the tips of her fingers as she passed him. "Jesus, what a mess!" she muttered. When he heard the bathroom door close he wiped his eyes and stood to zip and buckle his pants. Behind him he could hear her peeing in the bathroom. He thought of leaving, but she'd said she would call the cops if he did. She seemed to be less angry, but he didn't know what she would do. If she turned him in, his scholarship might be cancelled and he wouldn't be able to go to college. Everybody in town would find out about how stupid he'd been. The toilet flushed loudly and he sat back down again. She came back a few moments later, seating herself on the bed. She sat quietly, looking at him. She was wearing what his sister called "shortie pajamas," a very brief gown-like top, usually with a pair of matching briefs. But she was wearing only the top part. She was wearing nothing on the bottom. In spite of his abysmal misery he was finding this situation to be very erotic. "I'm really sorry," he said again. "Can I please go? I'll never do anything like this again, I promise." She shook her head. "You stay right there," she said. "I want to think about this." It seemed she sat there, staring at him, forever. She was not what he would have called a beautiful woman, but her long blond hair, her blue eyes, and her full, sensuous lips appealed to him. But what could she be thinking about? Was she deciding whether or not to call the police? Then she spoke. "You're eighteen years old, right?" "Um, yes." "And you leave for college next week?" "I leave Thursday. Please don't turn me in," he pleaded. "I'd lose my scholarship." There was another extended pause. Then, her voice almost inaudible, she said, "All right, Billy. I'll do this for you." "Huh?" "I said I'll do it. You can do it. We can make love, if you still want to." "Um, wait. I -- Why?" he asked. "Why would you do this? You don't even know me." She studied him. "Just because," she said finally. "Maybe I feel sorry for you." Unaccountably, this angered him. "That's what they call a pity fuck, isn't it?" he asked. She laughed. "You don't know how true that is," she said. "But you're thinking about it the wrong way." "Huh? I don't get it." "Never mind. Do you want to stay?" "Tell me what you mean. Please." She sighed. "Billy, I'm divorced and alone. There aren't even ten thousand people in this Godforsaken town. Tell me, do you intend to come back here to live when you graduate from college? He shook his head. "That's what I thought. You can get out of here. I can't. And I don't know of any men in this town that I'd even consider going out with. In other words, I don't date. This is a lonely town for somebody like me." "You could get out of here if you wanted to," he said. "You could get a job in Indianapolis, maybe, and just move there." She sighed. "Debbie would have to change schools," she said. "She'd understand if you explained to her. I'm sure of it." She dismissed the thought with a wave of the hand. "We're not going to solve that problem tonight. Are you going to stay or not?" "Are you really serious? Do you really want me to stay?" She nodded. Her hands were moving in her lap, fingers twisting the hem of her gown. She seemed uneasy. This was difficult for her. As he realized this, things began to change. The sofa bed was low, putting her head below his, about even with his chest. She had to look up to meet his eyes. Somehow this geometry, coupled with her uneasiness, made her seem less threatening, maybe even a little helpless. "Listen, Billy," she said, looking up at him with her pale blue eyes. "I -- Well, I miss -- I need -- I would enjoy being with a man sometimes. We could help each other. That's what lovemaking is really about. Two people giving something to each other. We're here, we have the time, and you seem like a nice guy. We could do something for each other." Her words were rushed, her voice strained. This really wasn't easy for her. She was asking him to fuck her. No, she was asking him to make love to her. He was suddenly more nervous, concerned now about how he might perform, afraid he'd disappoint her. "Okay," he said, whispering. "You'll have to promise me some things. Is that fair?" He nodded. "Okay," he said again. "One: Nobody can ever know about this. No bragging. Gentlemen don't discuss women they've been with." He nodded. "Two: You must never try to have sex with my daughter." "Um, okay." She met his eyes. "Okay," she whispered. Moving quickly she stood and pulled her gown off over her head. Her breasts lifted and moved as she raised and lowered her arms, capturing his eyes. Her hair was dark blond, but her pubic hair was almost black. Her flat stomach, her full firm breasts, the mystery of that wide thick patch of pubic hair were right in front of his face, less than a foot away. She stood before him, looking down at him, her eyes locked on his. She seemed steady, calm. Billy Wagner stared shamelessly, his mouth hanging open. He had seen pictures of nude women, he'd had a couple of girls mostly undressed in the back seat of his father's car, and he'd even seen a stripper at the county fair, but he had never been this close to a naked, full-grown adult woman, an experienced woman who was ready to fuck him. "God," he said, his voice strangely husky, "you're beautiful." These words seemed to be a trigger: he felt an immediate swelling inside his pants. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to slide his hands up and down her sides, along her flanks; to slide them around to cup her buttocks; to slide them up again to caress her breasts. He wanted to press his hand into her crotch, into its swirling dark covering, a place where a man could lose himself. He stood. He raised his hands tentatively, dropped them to his sides again, and then timidly placed his sweating palms on the graceful curves of her waist, touching her warily, as if afraid he might somehow contaminate her beauty. She moved into him and her arms floated up and around him. His arms enclosed her, his fingers flowing on the soft skin of her back. He pulled her closer and their hips met, pressing her against his burgeoning erection. His stomach lurched with sudden excitement and he wondered if she could feel his hardness. Then their lips met; they tasted one another. Quickly her tongue grazed his and went away. A chill swept through him. "Take off your clothes, Billy," she said, pushing him away. She reached to unbutton his shirt. He was immobilized, frozen in embarrassment by the idea of being naked with her, of letting her see his skinny arms and flat chest -- and his ridiculously stiff penis. He was rock-hard again. Somehow this embarrassed him. His former pride in his penis had vanished. "Are you going to be a zombie?" she asked, peeling back his shirt. One by one he raised his feet and pulled off his shoes. He unbuckled his pants. She took a seat on the bed, waiting, watching, as he lowered his pants and underpants together and sat quickly, to hide himself and to get his pants past his feet and off completely. Then he simply sat, his stupid misbehaving penis sticking up. She surveyed him for a moment and said, "You're still sort of messy. Why don't you go clean up a little?" Billy was chagrined by her frankness. He stood, wanting to hide his ridiculous protrusion, and went into the bathroom, equally uneasy about how he must look from behind, his skinny flat butt yet another source of embarrassment. In the bathroom he ran water and rinsed himself, and dried carefully with the hand towel. Looking down at his distended organ he felt a sense of betrayal. His inability to control its behavior had embarrassed him more than once. In his previous excursions into attempted intercourse it had misbehaved, making him feel amateurish and immature. This woman in the other room must think him a fool for having become so turned on in her presence that he had actually masturbated, right there on the spot. Now she must be secretly amused by his absurd reaction to her nudity. He was sure a more sophisticated man would have been able to sustain some sort of dignity in the situation. An experienced man surely wouldn't have gotten aroused as quickly as he had when she so casually slipped out of her gown and revealed her stunning body to him. When he returned to the bed he held the towel in front of him. His erection had not diminished at all. She was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She had left room for him to lie beside her. The long gentle arch of her back and the abrupt upward swelling curve of her buttocks made an extraordinary compound curve, gorgeous and inviting. "Come here," she said, patting the bed beside her. There was a small oscillating fan on a table and she'd turned it on to move hot air around the room. She'd also turned on a radio, the volume low. He could hear Danny and the Juniors singing "At the Hop." Should he lie on his back or on his side or on his stomach? He eventually decided to lie on his stomach, hiding himself. The sheet was cool against his heated organ. He dropped the towel on the floor by the bed. "I'm waiting," she said. "Um, huh?" "Take some initiative. Treat me like a woman. And stop saying `um,' right this minute. It makes you sound like an idiot." He rolled onto his side and up on his elbow, facing her, holding himself away so his body would not touch her. She was still propped up on her elbows and he could see the curve of her breast under her arm. He slipped his hand in, cupping her amazing softness. He began squeezing and leaned forward, intending to kiss her shoulder. She moved her arm, pushing his hand away. "Stop that, Billy," she said. "You make me think you're only doing this for yourself. You can do better than that. You have to let a woman know you care about her, that you're not just after her body." Chagrined, he pulled back, and after a moment started running his fingertips up and down her back, touching lightly, keeping away from her bottom even though he ached to caress it. She lowered her head, resting her forehead on her arms. "That's nice," she said. "You know, it's been a long time since..." she added, then stopped. "Since what?" he asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just... I haven't been with anybody for a long time. I've missed this." He continued his work. Gradually, very gradually, he broadened the passes he was making up and down her back, eventually tracing his fingertips around her glorious buttocks. Just as gradually he got more of his hand involved until he was actually rubbing her, up and down her back, over her buttocks, caressing and petting her. "That feels so good," she said. "Would you like to give me a back rub?" After a moment of uncertainty he rolled, throwing a leg over her so that he could kneel astride her body. He began running his hands up and down the long muscles on either side of her spine, trying to press her muscles the way he would have liked it to be done to him. Although his knees were touching her thighs as he straddled her, he carefully held his hips up, afraid to let his genitals contact her. As if reading his mind, she said, "You can sit on my legs if it makes it easier." The invitation was all he needed. He settled on her thighs, continuing to rub up and down her back. He was trying to concentrate on the work his hands were doing, but the sensations of his genitals resting on her body, the view he had of his hard-ridged stiffness against her soft curves, created a sense of urgency. Pushing the thought out of his mind, Billy concentrated on the back rub. She was very quiet; making only occasional sounds that let him know she was enjoying what he was doing. He was enjoying it as well, simply because she was. He lengthened his strokes, pressing hard, gradually and timidly bringing his hands all the way down to caress her bottom, letting his fingers flow over her tantalizing curvature. His penis had settled with its crimson tip lodged in the juncture of her thighs and buttocks, as if it were meant for that exact spot. Each downward pull of his hands caused pressure on it, molding her soft flesh down and around it. The feeling was exquisite, and compounded the closeness he was beginning to feel with this woman. Although they were almost perfect strangers, he felt warmth and affection he'd never experienced with the girls he'd dated. He thought he could continue doing this for weeks, and decided he wouldn't stop until she told him to. Seeming to read his mind again, she stirred a little and said, "Thank you, Billy. That was wonderful." He rolled off and positioned himself on his side, the length of his body in contact with her. This time he allowed his penis to touch her, and pressed it slightly into her flank. He put his arm across her back and on her shoulder and pulled her closer. He raised his leg and caressed her bottom with the inside of his thigh. After a moment she rolled over, onto her back, and reached up to pull his head down to kiss him. It was a long, slow kiss, her tongue finding and dancing with his, and he put his hand on her, lightly touching her breast, stroking it the way he would a kitten. He felt her nipple rise. His leg was still over her, and he thought he could feel her wiry fur against his inner thigh. In the background he heard the radio. "Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care" Peggy Lee. He remembered the song. He remembered the stripper he'd seen at the county fair a year or two back, a blond Marilyn Monroe look-alike, a large-breasted blond who had taken off all of her clothes, revealing her startling black furry crotch to him and the other teens and men in the audience, stroking and caressing herself as she swayed and ground her hips around the small stage in the sweltering tent, wearing nothing but white high heels. This stripper, the first live nude woman he'd seen in his short life, had been in his mind countless times since then, especially when he masturbated. The song on the radio was the one the stripper had used for her finale, when she took off the last of her clothes, when she unveiled her brushy black crotch to Billy and his awestruck friends, and to the men in the tent, all of whom had paid an extra dollar to see the second show. Billy had bought the record. For months he had played it while he masturbated, imagining himself fucking the blond again and again. He traced a finger around her nipple. "Be very gentle," she said. "Ah, that's good. I can feel things happening all the way down my body when you do that. Oh, that's very nice. You're doing a very good job, Billy." "When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear -- you give me fever - when you kiss me" Improvising, hoping he wasn't pushing things, he lowered his head to her breast and began kissing it, sucking gently at the nipple. From the sound of her breathing he decided he'd done the right thing. "Fever when you hold me tight Fever -- in the morning Fever all through the night" Improvising again, he put a hand on her stomach rubbed briefly, still kissing her breasts. He moved his hand lower and lower until it was grazing her fur, and at his touch she parted her legs slightly so that he could move his hand between them. He moved his leg down and out of the way, and caressed her foot with his. "Sun lights up the daytime Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right -- you give me fever" He cupped her and found dampness. He pressed there and her soft warm flesh seemed to flow around his finger. He moved his hand up and down slowly, stroking the wet seam he'd found. "- when you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever -- in the morning Fever all through the night" "That's good, Billy," she whispered in his ear, caressing the back of his head with her hand. "Move your hand up and down that way. Ah, yes, that's good. You're making me feel very good, Billy. Yes, do it like that. Yes. Oh yes. That's... Oh, that's very nice, Billy. You're doing an excellent job." "Sun lights up the daytime Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right -- you give me fever" She seemed to be wetter and warmer now, and she began pressing her hips up against his hand and fingers. "Everybody's got the fever That is something you all know" He lowered his lips to her breast again, kissing her nipple, and she held his head with both hands, bucking her hips as he caressed her with his hand, keeping time with the heavy beat of the music. "Fever isn't such a new thing Fever started long ago" "Oh, Billy, this is so nice," she whispered. "It's been such a long time. Here, let me get my hand down... Oh, there you are. My goodness! Here, do you like it when I do this?" "Captain Smiths and Pocahontas Had a very mad affair When her daddy tried to kill him She said "Daddy, oh don't you dare" -- he gives me fever" "Oh, god, do that some more, Billy. It feels so good. You're making me... Oh, God, I'm going to... Ooh... I'm c-c... Billy... Uhnh... It's happening. Oh... Oh, oh shit, shit, shit..." "- with his kisses Fever when he holds me tight Fever -- I'm his missus Oh daddy won't you treat him right" She was coming. He could feel her vagina pulsating around his fingers as she slowly writhed, moving her hips up against his hand. It was an amazing revelation: a woman could come. It had never occurred to him that this could happen. He kissed her breast again and felt her breath puffing in his ear. He wondered how it felt for her. "Now you've listened to my story Here's the point that I have made Chicks were born to give you fever Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade -- they give you fever" "Billy, that was lovely," she said, still breathless. She still held him in her hand, but she had stopped stroking him when her orgasm began. He moved his hips, sliding in and out of her gentle grip. "- when you kiss them Fever if you live and learn Fever -- 'till you sizzle" She tightened her grip on him and pulled his head up to kiss him deeply, and just as her tongue darted into his mouth he ejaculated, groaning, unable to contain himself. His thick juice flowed between them, coating their flesh. "Oh what a lovely way to burn Oh what a lovely way to burn Oh what a lovely way to burn" He found the towel and cleaned up the mess he'd made. He was overwhelmed with gratitude, with the beauty of what they'd just done. He was surprised to learn that it had been important to him to bring her pleasure, to know that he had given her something nice. The Platters were singing "Twilight Time." They listened quietly for a few minutes, and then he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, probing within her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. This continued, and seemed to re-energize her. He slipped his hand between her legs again and she began gently rocking her hips against his hand. Then she pushed his head down toward her crotch. "Your mouth. Please," she said breathlessly. Eat her pussy? Billy had never thought he would do anything like that. He'd always thought it was sick and perverted, something queers did, something a man couldn't possibly enjoy. But he wanted to do this for her, simply because she asked. So he did. Eagerly he plunged his face between her silky thighs and immediately pressed his tongue as far into her musky dampness as he could. He found that he liked her taste and began working in earnest, using his tongue the way he had used his fingers. As he did, she began pulling on his softened organ. "Here, scoot up here a little," she said. He moved and felt her tongue flicking him. He was filled with overwhelming tenderness and affection for this woman. "Oh, Billy," she whispered, "Your tongue, it's so wonderful... You're going to make me... Ooh, Billy, this is so marvelous! Ooh, I'm... Ooh... My... Oh, thank you... Oh, Billy..." Her hand jerked on him as her spasms started, stronger this time, and she ground her hips beneath him, pressing hard against his face. Even though his tongue was tiring, he continued. Slowly, gradually, she began moving her hips again, this time not as frantically, and then she had a long, slow, gentle orgasm that seemed to last for ten or fifteen seconds. He heard her begin gasping near the end, and as the extended spasms ended she began stroking him hurriedly with her hand. "Make it hard again, Billy," she said breathlessly. "I want you inside me." Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and reversed himself, sitting astride her chest, just as he'd imagined earlier in the evening. Looking down he could see his cock drooping into the valley between her breasts. He raised up to his knees and took hold of himself, and began making those old practiced movements. She brought her hands up to assist, caressing his thighs, his buttocks and his balls. He could feel his balls brushing against her breasts, and he could see her face under his penis, and he could feel her hands caressing, urging him. These sensations combined to give him a feeling of deep serenity and he settled back on her, continuing to stroke, his hand and penis now nestled between her breasts. She raised her head, reaching for him, and snaked out her tongue, using it to flick him and to loop around him as he continued to work on himself. It wasn't working. "Maybe we should take a little break," she suggested. "I'm sorry," he muttered, angry with himself. He rolled to the side, throwing himself down on his back. "You don't have to apologize," she said, reaching and stroking his cheek. "You've been wonderful. No, I take that back. You've been magnificent. You just need a little break." She rolled to the other side of the bed and got up. "Would you like a beer?" she asked, turning, gracing him with a view of a long line along her body up from the graceful curve of her thigh, past her stomach, up and around a breast. "Okay," he said, the only word he could manage. The image before him was so haunting, so extraordinary, that words failed to come to his mind. He watched as she walked to the little kitchenette, her hips swaying from side to side, the globes of her bottom undulating. Fuck college. Fuck the career. He would stay with this woman forever if she'd have him. He was close to tears again. Nobody deserved anything like this. She opened the refrigerator and bent to retrieve two bottles of beer. The light from the refrigerator illuminated her in silhouette and from behind, through the apex of her legs, he could see a tuft of her fur. Her effect on him was so powerful he felt a new stirring in his groin. "Do you smoke?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder. "Sometimes," he answered. He'd tried it a few times. Bonnie returned to the bed, carrying the beers, an ashtray and a pack of cigarettes. Gracefully she climbed onto the bed and walked on her knees to the middle, next to him. The wide triangle of her pubic hair caught his eye and he reached out when she was near enough, caressing, petting her, swirling a finger in her pelt. She seated herself cross-legged next to him, facing him, and put the ashtray and cigarettes on his stomach. "I'd like to have you made into a coffee table," she said, handing him a beer and stroking his flaccid penis briefly with cold fingers. "I'd like to have a pillow made of you," he countered. "I could lick you while I slept." She laughed, lit a cigarette and handed him the pack and matches. He fumbled a cigarette out of the pack and got it lit. It was menthol, a long slender woman's cigarette. It wasn't too bad and he was able to inhale it without coughing. They smoked and drank beer. There was no need to talk for the moment. He felt immensely comfortable, unconcerned at last about his nakedness. He glanced down at his hopeless organ. It was angled up his stomach, still a little thick but hopelessly soft, now betraying him in another way. Sensing his concern she reached out and caressed him again, tracing cool fingers along his length, touching lightly. "Don't worry about this fellow," she said. "I'll take care of it soon enough." He finished his beer and the cigarette quickly. Combined, the alcohol and the nicotine brought a little buzz to his head. He put his beer bottle on the floor and reached to put a hand on her thigh. "You're wonderful," he said. "You're not so bad yourself," she said. She stubbed out her cigarette and leaned across him, her breasts brushing his chest, to put the ashtray and her bottle on the floor. Then she raised her arms, unfastened her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders. It was long enough to cover her breasts. Her look changed; she became even more beautiful, more mysterious. She stretched out beside him, facing him, resting a foot on his ankle. He put his arm under her head and she snuggled close, her head on his shoulder, the full length of her body pressed against his side. She rested her hand lightly on his chest. "Well," she said, "we've been in bed together for a while now but you're still a virgin. I haven't kept my promise." "It's my fault. I'm sorry," he muttered. "Don't worry. I'll give you another chance." She paused. "You know, if we use you as a standard, I'm almost a virgin too." "What do you mean?" he asked. "Didn't you have a baby?" "Billy, I was with a man just a little while after Debbie was born, and only twice since then. I've gone without sex for almost as long as you have." "Really? You're kidding, aren't you? A beautiful woman like you?" "Really. It's not something I'm particularly happy about." "Do you miss it?" "Of course, silly." She rubbed her hand up and down his chest. "Any woman would. You've seen how much I enjoy it." "I didn't know..." he said. "Know what?" "Well, I didn't know a woman could, you know..." "Have an orgasm?" "I never thought about it. I didn't know." "I even masturbate, Billy. Just like you do. That's my substitute for sex these days." "You do? Really? How often?" "I don't know, every week or two, I guess." He could imagine her, lying in bed, hand between her legs, hips moving up and down. Alone. His image of this was erotic but dismal. "I'm really sorry," he said. He hugged her, caressing her face, pulling her close. "There must be plenty of guys who would like to have sex with you." "Well, it's not like I haven't had opportunities. Especially with married men. You'd be surprised if you knew some of the men in this town who tried to get me into bed with them." "I'll bet. But doesn't that make it worse?" She sighed. Her wandering hand moved lower. "Sometimes I've been tempted, Billy. But it didn't seem to be worth doing because of all the trouble it could cause." He touched her face; caressed her cheek again. "That's terrible," he said. His feeling was sincere. "I'm really sorry." She touched his penis, lifted it, closed her hand around it. "Well, we're here to fix that," she said, stroking him gently. "Would you like me to do something with this thing?" "Oh, yes." Bonnie moved her head, kissing his chest, licking and trailing a path of kisses down the front of him, moving her hand gently on him as she traveled. Soon she reached his groin and went past, kissing her way down his thigh. She returned to him, licking her way up the underside of his penis, up to the bell- shaped head and around it, finally enclosing him with her warm mouth and tongue. She moved her head up and down, her tongue dancing around the sensitive tip at the top of each stroke. He reached to touch her and found her bottom. He caressed it gently and she moved her hips to show him that she liked what he was doing. There was no urgency. He simply immersed himself in the moment, enjoying her touches and their communion. Gradually, very gradually, he became erect. She caressed him gently with her hand, sliding up and down on him. "You look enormous, "she said. She rolled, straddling him, and held him with both hands for a moment, caressing him. "Are you ready for this?" she asked. "Oh, god yes," he gasped. It was about to happen. He could barely contain himself, and his fear of ejaculating too quickly was gone. She would understand. "I'm ready too," she purred, meeting his eyes. With that, she raised herself and guided him under her and moved herself down and around him, pausing when only the head of his penis was inside her. "Oh, Billy," she said, a little breathlessly, "oh, my... This is going to be so wonderful for us." Wishing for brighter light, he watched, anxious to see himself penetrate her, and when she paused he felt a twitch, as if he might be about to come, and he gasped. He wanted to raise his hips, to plunge fully into her, but he didn't. He wanted her to be in charge. She began lowering herself with excruciating slowness and he watched his cock gradually disappear into her, behind her mat of hair, and he experienced for the first time the sensation of entering a glorious place, a place that was warm and slick, ready for him. He pressed, rocking his hips upward, deepening himself until his pubic bone met hers, until their pubic hair mingled as he disappeared completely into her. Bonnie groaned, a long guttural animal sound, and twitched her hips, settling him more. "Oh my god, Billy," she moaned, arching her back and raising her arms to pull her hair away from her face. "Why did I wait so long? This is so wonderful. Oh, Billy, thank you so much for being here, for being patient, for being such a good lover." The sensations were magnificent for him as well, far beyond anything he'd ever imagined in his masturbatory fantasies. She was silky and warm, welcoming him and gripping him tenderly, stretching and expanding to accommodate his breadth and length. She began moving, her hands on her thighs, raising herself up and lowering herself, rolling her hips forward and backward as she did, tugging at him, bending him a little with each stroke. Then she slipped her hands forward, onto his stomach, up to his shoulders, and leaned, pressing her breasts to his face, against his lips, her hair cascading around his head. He sucked and kissed and licked her breasts as she continued to move and roll her hips. Then she raised herself again and began to increase the tempo of her movements. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her eyes were closed. Her breasts swaying with her movements. He moaned involuntarily. He was inside this woman, and never had he felt anything as exquisite as the sensations of her soft silkiness enveloping him, sliding on him, caressing him. Tears rolled from his eyes; he was overwhelmed by the majestic beauty of her, the majestic beauty of what they could do for one another. "Oh, thank you for being here, Billy Miller. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou... This is the most wonderful moment I can remember. Your... Your cock is so big and so hard and so perfect and so deep inside me I can hardly stand it. It makes me want to scream, Billy. Oh... Fuck me Billy!" Billy reached out and touched her stomach, pressing his hands there briefly before sliding them to grasp her hips, helping her move. "You're so beautiful," he gasped. It's so soft and warm inside you. I'm where I belong. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I could stay here forever!" His words seemed to trigger her. She began moving very rapidly, grinding her pubic bone against his, throwing her hips forward and backward, panting and grunting, faster and faster until she fell forward and pressed her lips to his, plunging her tongue into his mouth. A long soft moan escaped her and she seemed to convulse and froze, rigid and motionless. He could feel her clamping down on him and he grabbed her buttocks and angled his hips up, trying to force himself into her more deeply, trying to get as far into her as he could. She leaned forward and buried her face against his neck. She was panting now, relaxing bit by bit as the convulsions inside her faded and ebbed. "You will never know how wonderful this is for me," she panted. He started moving his hips, slowly sliding in and out again. There was no urgency in him. He wasn't trying to accomplish anything; he just wanted to caress her, stroke her insides this way forever. "Nice," she whispered into his ear, and kissed him on his neck. Then, without warning, she rolled off him. She positioned herself on her back beside him, legs bent. "Come to me, Billy," she said. He sat and turned and moved between her legs. She held up her arms to welcome him. He pressed the tip of his penis against her lightly and she lifted her hips slightly, positioning herself. "Push now," she said. He did, gliding inside again. He held himself above her, just low enough that his chest brushed her breasts, and he began moving himself in and out. She hooked her heels behind his legs and began raising her hips to meet his inward thrusts, angling herself to make his penetration as deep as possible. The soft friction of her inner walls against his flesh was so perfect, so delicate that he felt himself getting ready, and fought to hold it back. "Ooh, Billy, this is wonderful," she gasped. "I'm going to come again, Billy. Are you? Oh, here I go... Oh, shit... Fuck me Billy, please!" He leaned down to kiss her deeply, probing inside her mouth as he probed inside her vagina below. Then she came, very gently, quietly, softly grunting, her breath puffing on his cheek, her passage gripping his hardness softly, easily. She gripped his buttocks with her hands, pressing him into her as this happened, grinding her pubic bone against his. "Ooh, Billy," she gasped. "That was wonderful. Why did you hold back? Weren't you ready?" "Oh, yes," he gasped. "But I -- well, I didn't know if -- I didn't know if it would be okay if I could, uh, well, I have a rubber..." "You don't need it. You can come inside me, Billy. I want you to. Do it now." It was as if she had released him from bondage. He felt immense freedom now, and began moving, starting very slowly, gradually increasing his pace until he was pounding her with all his strength, battering her so hard that she rocked up and down under him. By this time both of them were perspiring in the warm room, and she had a light sheen of sweat between her breasts. Sweat dripped from his nose and joined hers there. He dropped his head to her shoulder, resting more of his weight on her, and continued to slam into her brutally, as fast as he could. She accepted him. She helped him. She angled her hips to receive his pounding, gripping and pulling his buttocks, urging him to smash into her even harder. He felt the rush beginning, growing, welling up into the base of his penis, and although he knew it would happen he was afraid it wouldn't happen before he died from the exquisite beauty of the moment. Then it did happen. Billy Wagner began to ejaculate, flowing into this woman, his first woman, pouring his essence into Bonnie McBride, frozen in space, frozen in time, nothing moving except his surging penis and his pounding heart. As he drained into her she began an intense, protracted orgasm of her own, convulsing around him, and together they cried out, celebrating the moment they had created, memorializing the instant. * * * * * Billy went home from college for Thanksgiving break and drove by Bonnie McBride's apartment the day after Thanksgiving. The place was empty. He parked at the curb and sat in the car for a long time, looking up at the apartment window. Later somebody told him they thought she'd moved to Indianapolis.