Posted by Luthor on October 19, 2005 at 17:37:36:
Back in the dear, dead, sacrificial days before the cursed spam bots completely devoured the the Usenet, I used to frequent several of the kinkier newsgroups, occasionally posting a story or drawing as the spirit moved me. While I no longer do so, back in those days I accepted paid commissions for custom work, either short stories or illustrations, done to an individual's personal specifications.
While most of what I provided to these customers was, as requested, little more than straight porn and therefore less-than-memorable works of art, there were one or two exceptions, when the spirit of a particular piece took wing and something special resulted.
This is a short story I was commissioned to do back before the Millenium change. All the customer said was that he wanted a story about a teenaged boy who becomes humiliated by being caught masturbating. Rather tame as kinks go, I thought. Not my usual style, but I figured, what the Hell?
Money is money.
The story I ended up with appears below. It is monumentally off-topic. I am posting it as a sort of celebration. I always thought it turned out rather well, and I consider it probably the most mainstream work of light comedy I've written in years.
Those of you who have seen my work know that I seldom do mainstream.
Unfortunately, before I had the chance to archive the story, a HD failure wiped it from existance. The customer had a copy, of course, but his contact info had also been lost in the same HD disaster.
I had assumed the story had been lost forever.
Yesterday, in one of my regular spirit-based on-going internet porn investigations, I ran across a story site dedicated to female domination and/or male humiliation, and I'll be damned if my little masterpiece wasn't right there snugly nestled among all the other priceless literary offerings!
So here it is. I did a quick rewrite to tighten it up a bit, but it is essentially the same story I wrote back in '99. I figure if I post it here, Sam will archive it with my others and if it gets lost again, I'll know where to find it.
By the way, although the characters in the story are ostensibly 10th graders, it should be noted that they are not necessarily minors. The school system in question adheres to the Bush 'intelligent design' bible-based curriculum and it is therefore not unusual for a student to take five or even six years or more to manage to pass state minimum-competency tests and graduate high school.
No, really.
-- Luthor
* * * * *
Master Bates
by
Luthor
On Friday, January 15th in the year of our Lord 1999, at precisely 10:16 A.M. Pacific Standard Time, an Angel walked into room 222 at Ferdinand P. Clapptrap Public High School. I swear! An Angel! Straight from Heaven! I saw it all! I was sitting in my usual seat, second desk in, row 4, of Mr. Myer's Tenth grade Intermediate English class, pretending to pay attention as old man Myer's droned on for the ten thousandth time about the difference between verbs and adverbs and the dangers of the dangling participle (as if anyone on the planet actually cared), when in she walked, big as life! Her!
The Angel.
She was dressed just like any normal earth girl, in a short, pleated, powder-blue mini-skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse that had a small red flower (a rose, I think) embroidered on the pocket. Her long, wavy, light-brown hair was swept back in a perfect ponytail, held in place by a frilly pink ribbon, tied in perfect bow, and her puffy white cotton socks were rolled down to cover the tops of her ankle-high Blue Nike Crosstrainers. She carried a hot pink Nifty binder cradled in her perfect left arm, and around her perfect neck she wore a thin, silver chain.
She was obviously in disguise.
She couldn't fool me, though. Nope. Not this kid! Wendel Wadsworth Bates is no fool! No ordinary, everyday human being could possibly be that breathtaking! No mere mortal could ever hope to have eyes so spectacularly blue, or a waist so amazingly slender. No human female could posses legs so long and perfectly shaped, or breasts so firm and round that they seemed to actually defy gravity! What real, flesh and blood girl ever had skin so smooth, or cheeks so pink, or lips so full, or a nose that turned up at just the right angle, with six, no, seven perfectly placed freckles adorning its tip? In all the world, was there ever a female of the species Homo Sapiens that even came close to attaining such a spectacular, monumental, utterly awesome level of perfection? No! Impossible!
An Angel, pure and simple.
The Angel walked up to old man Myers and handed him a small note. The 40ish, balding teacher reached into the pocket of his old corduroy sports coat and pulled out his wire-framed reading glasses, the ones he always put on just before reciting to us our homework assignments for the coming week. "Class," he announced, after giving the note a quick perusal. "This is Heather Wilson." The Angel smiled.
God! Dimples!
"She just transferred to our district from upstate. I know you'll all do your best to make her feel welcome! As I'm sure you're aware, it is often difficult for a new student to find his or her way around on an unfamiliar campus. It would be a nice gesture if one of you could be so kind as to walk Heather to her next class after the bell rings. Let's see," Mr. Myers again glanced at the slip of paper. "Who has Mr. Jacobs for Math next period?"
If they ask me, 40 or 50 years from now, when it was that I first realized that there is indeed a kind and beneficent God watching over us from on high, I'll tell them, without hesitation, January 15th, 1999, at precisely 10:19 A.M.
"Me, Sir!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, raising my hand as high as I could manage without actually dislocating my shoulder. "I've got Mr. Jacobs next period!"
"Fine. Heather, this is Wendel Bates." said old man Myers, gesturing in my direction. "He'll escort you to your next class. Now take a seat and open your text. We're on page 212. Let's see, where was I? Oh yes. Verbs can be our best friends...." Mr. Myers droned on in his squeaky monotone as the new student gracefully walked over to an empty desk right across from mine and daintily took a seat. She looked over at me and smiled, silently mouthing the words "thank you" before opening her brand new textbook and beginning her school day.
Breathe, I told myself. Got to remember to breathe!
I spent the remainder of the hour staring at the Angel in row 4 and breathing.
* * * *
"It's really very nice of you to walk me to class, Wendel," said Heather as we made our way through the crowded hallway leading to Mr. Jacobs third period Math class. "The campus is so big! I'm sure I would have gotten lost!" Even her voice was Angelic!
"No problem," I answered, trying to sound as if escorting a Goddess to math class was an everyday occurrence for me. "And you can call me Spike. Everybody does." Well, not everybody. Not anybody, actually. For reasons that I could never quite figure out, I was considered something of a geek around school, and geeks are never given cool nicknames like Spike, but I had a feeling that my luck was about to change! After all, wasn't I walking with the most beautiful girl in the whole school? The whole State? Heck, maybe even the whole world! I'd get some respect now! Who knows, this might just be the start of a whole new ungeekified life for Wendel W. Bates!
"Hey Master, who's your new friend?"
Oh crap.
The dreaded voice sent a chill down my spine. I didn't bother to turn around. I knew who it was. Johnny DiMarco! Captain of the varsity football team, district wrestling champion (light-heavyweight division), senior class Vice-president, and, in his spare time, Satan. Johnny DiMarco, tall and blonde and built like a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Johnny DiMarco, with his rich parents and big house and brand new two-tone Porsche. Johnny DiMarco, who had been making my life miserable since the 6th grade, when he pantsed me right in front of Lindsey Hefflewhite and ran my shorts up the flagpole at the Founder's Day picnic at George C. Scott Junior High. Johnny DiMarco, my own personal glimpse of hell.
God, I hate Johnny DiMarco.
"Hi Johnny. How's it going?" I asked politely as he swaggered up to me and put his big, brawny arm around my skinny shoulder.
"Oh, you know, same old shit," Johnny gave me a playful hug, almost knocking the wind out of me. "My Dad just got a new Bentley, so I'll be driving the Jag while my Porsche is in the shop. So who's your friend?" He smiled broadly at Heather.
We learned in health class last year that human beings all have 32 teeth. I’ve never actually counted them, but I swear Johnny DiMarco must have at least two or three times that many, all straight and white and lined up in two perfect rows inside that big mouth of his. When he smiles, he always reminds me of that fairy tale we all read as children – Goodness, Granny! What big teeth you have….
Speaking of which, didn’t it ever seem odd to you that Little Red Riding Hood couldn’t tell the difference between her grandmother and a large dog wearing a nightgown? Either she had an unbelievably hairy grandmother or she was just, you know, a really really stupid kid. This doesn’t have any direct bearing on the story (unless you are into symbolism), but it just popped into my head and I thought I’d mention it in passing.
What is this thing going on between girls and wolves?
"This is Heather," I mumbled, trying to extricate myself from Johnny’s iron grip. "We were just on our way to Math class."
"Hi Heather," Johnny crooned, grinning even wider, if possible. "You must be new. I'm sure I'd have remembered seeing YOU around school before. I know all the beautiful girls. Has my old buddy Master here been showing you the sights?
"Master?" asked Heather, looking a bit confused. "I thought his name was Spike?"
Please, God, just kill me now!
"Look, Johnny we really have to be getting to class!" I was beginning to panic! "We're going to be late!"
"Relax. There's plenty of time!" Johnny chuckled. "Spike?" he said, turning to Heather. "I'm afraid old Master has been pulling your leg. He's been called Master ever since the 7th grade, when me and a bunch of guys from the football squad caught him jacking off in the bushes behind the girl's locker room. Isn't that right Master? I gave him that nickname myself. Get it? Master? Bates?" Johnny threw back his head and laughed uproariously. I prayed he would choke on his tongue and die a horrible, agonizing death.
"Oh," breathed Heather softly, lowering her eyes and blushing.
"Tell you what," Johnny said, letting go of my shoulder and putting his arm around Heather's tiny waist. "Why don't we let old Master Bates here get on with whatever it is guys like him do after meeting a beautiful woman like you, and I'll escort you to your next class personally." Johnny looked back over his shoulder as he led Heather away. "The little boys room is down the hall and to the left, Geek. If you hurry, you might be able to find an empty stall before you splooge on your shoes."
"Um, it was nice meeting you, Mas -- Uh, Spi -- I mean Wendel." Heather called back to me as she was whisked away on Johnny's arm. I stood for a very long time staring in the direction they had gone, hardly noticing the throngs of students pushing past me. Finally, after what seemed to be several lifetimes, I took a deep breath, sighed, and slowly made my way to Mr. Jacobs third period Math class.
* * * * *
"But Mom, I'm too old for a baby-sitter!" I protested, following my mother into the living room from the kitchen as she hurriedly got ready for her regular Friday night Tarot reading with Madame Ben-Wa, the latest "find" in her unending quest for spiritual enlightenment.
"Nonsense, sweetheart. Madame Ben-Wa says that you're a young soul and still in need of supervision." Mother droned on as she adjusted the necklace of power crystals she had just placed around her saggy turkey-neck. She was dressed in a long, flowing, floor length white half-toga sort of thing and multi-colored tie-dyed blouse with puffy sleeves and a low-cut V-neck, one of the strange outfits left over from her days living as a hippie on a commune in Colorado in the early eighties. In addition to the crystals, she wore several layers of what she called "Love Beads", a purple headband, and on the third finger of her right hand there was a large, gaudy scarab ring, from India she always said, although I looked at it once in her jewelry box while she was away at work, and it had "Taiwan" stamped on the underside.
"Madame Ben-Wa works as a receptionist at Ruby's House of Hair in the mall. What does she know about how old my soul is?" I argued.
"Now, now, darling. Madame Ben-Wa is a very enlightened individual. Didn't she predict that terrible earthquake in California last year, and how about Latoya Jackson's divorce? She hit that right on the nose! And besides," she said, coming close and putting her hand on my shoulder. "We both know about your little 'problem', don't we?"
"Aw mom! Why do you always have to bring that up?" I whined.
"It does no good to hide from reality, Wendel. Dr. Kronkite, my analyst, says that excessive masturbation in a boy your age can lead to sexual deviancy and anti-social behavior later in life. He's a Jungian, you know. He knows all about sexual deviancy. Now be a dear and help mother find her mood ring. I'm going to be late and Madame Ben-Wa says that her spirit-guide, Princess Running Bear, hates to be kept waiting!"
"It's on the counter in the kitchen," I mumbled, plopping down on the couch in despair. "The same place you always put it right before you do the dishes."
"What would mommy do without her clever little man, hmmmm?" she pinched my left cheek just before dashing off to the kitchen to look for her ring. "Found it!" she called out a few seconds later. "I think you're going to like this new baby-sitter, Wendel." she shouted from the next room. "Her family just moved to town and I hear she's quite good with children. The Nedermiers swear by her!" The sound of the doorbell suddenly echoed through the house. "Oh good. That'll be her now! Be a dear and let her in!"
"Children." I mumbled as I trudged to answer the bell. "Who's she calling 'children'?" I turned the knob and swung open the door, expecting to see some matronly, overweight old maid with vericose veins and her hair done up in a bun.
Boy, was I wrong!
"Heather!"
It was her! Heather! The Angel! Standing there big as life! She had come to see me! I couldn't believe it! My heart leaped! Heather Wilson was standing in my doorway! She had actually come to my house and was standing in my doorway waiting to see me! ME! If my life had ended right at that moment, I would have died a happy man.
Looking back, it might have been better if it had.
"Wendel!" Heather gasped, a look of confusion crossing her pretty face. "What are you doing here? I must have the wrong house. Is this 1457 Pine?"
"Yes," I said, somewhat confused myself. "Didn't you come, I mean, weren't you looking for...."
"You must be Heather!" my mother crooned in her best 'company' voice as she came up behind me. "Very nice to meet you, dear. I've heard some wonderful things about you from Bernice Nedermier! I'm Mrs. Bates and this is my son Wendel. Come right in, Heather. Wendel, this is Heather Wilson, your new baby-sitter!"
BABY-SITTER??!!!
I once ran across, strictly by chance, one of those lurid old detective magazines lying on the sidewalk on my way to school one morning when I was nine or ten. There was a particularly gruesome story in it all about this 34 year old plumber from Duluth who had murdered his mother with an ax and then kept her head mounted on a stick in his back yard. I remember wondering at the time how someone could be so demented as to do something so horrible to their own mother. Suddenly, standing in our doorway, being introduced to my new baby-sitter, I found I had a fresh insight, as well as a great deal of newly-acquired sympathy, for that crazy plumber's point of view.
"Oh," murmured Heather as she made her way into our lining room. "I thought, I mean, well, that I would be watching someone.... younger."
"M -- Mom!" I stammered, still unable to believe what was transpiring. "Heather goes to my school!"
"Wonderful!" my mother exclaimed happily. "You two will have a lot to talk about, then. Mommy won't have to worry about her baby boy being bored while she is gone!" This time she pinched both of my cheeks.
That plumber was looking saner and saner to me by the minute!
"Now Heather, you make yourself right at home! There are snacks in the fridge, and there's a wonderful Disney film on the cable later this evening. I've marked it in the TV Guide. I'm sure you two will enjoy it." Mother picked up her coat and headed for the door. "Oh, and Heather, Don't let Wendel watch any of those horrid R-rated movies that come on late at night. He has, well, a sort of problem."
"MOM!!!"
"Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. I'm sure Heather will understand, won't you Heather?"
"Um, yes, I guess so." Heather answered, still looking a bit confused.
"See there, precious? Nothing to worry about." she turned to Heather, this crazy woman who looked like my mother, and said "You see Heather, Wendel has a bit of a problem with" and then she whispered "Masturbation."
That was it! Cover me with dirt. My life was over!
Why is there never a plumber around when you need one?
"Oh," Heather blushed.
"It's nothing to worry about, really. Boys his age are bound to get, well, certain urges. It's just that little Wendel goes a bit overboard sometimes, bless his heart. The poor dear hasn't been the same since we lost his father, may he rest in peace. Just make sure he doesn't watch anything too stimulating on the television, and don't let him spend too much time in the bathroom. Well, I'm off!"
I'd vouch for that!
And suddenly Heather and I were alone! My head was still reeling from what had just taken place. Had my mother really told the most beautiful girl in the world that I like to pull my pud? No. I must be having one of those horrible dreams. You know the ones I mean, where you're in a mall or riding the schoolbus or something and you look down and suddenly realize that you're completely naked. Yes, that was it! I was dreaming! I would wake up soon and all this will have been just a nightmare! A horrendous, ghastly, hideous nightmare!
Only I wasn't dreaming. This was real. My mother had actually hired Heather Wilson to be my baby-sitter and, on top of everything else, told her that I spend all of my free time wanking off in the bathroom! I stood by the door, unable to move, hoping that the earth would somehow open and swallow me up as Heather sat down on our couch and reached for the remote control.
"Want to watch some TV Wendel?" she asked pleasantly.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so," I managed to answer without my voice cracking. She sounded so … normal. Not at all the tone of voice one would expect from a young girl who had just discovered she was babysitting a pervert. Had she heard what my mother said? Maybe she hadn't been paying attention. Maybe she was such a sweet, innocent thing that she didn’t know what masturbation was or maybe she was hard of hearing or something! My hopes soared! Maybe she was deaf and only read lips! Oh God, please let her be deaf! I inched my way over to the couch and very slowly sat down on the end opposite hers. She certainly wasn't acting like someone who had just leaned she'd be spending the evening alone with a sex-fiend! Maybe I was safe, after all! Maybe I'd been worrying for nothing!
"So, Wendel," Heather inquired matter-of-factly. "Just how often do you masturbate?"
Oh crap.
"Look. Heather" I stammered. "I don't, I mean, my mother, you know, she just..."
"No reason to be embarrassed, Wendel. We have the same problem at home with my little brother, Freddie. He just turned 13 last March. He's always locking himself in the bathroom and jacking off. My Dad says it's just a phase he's going through." Heather settled back into the fluffy couch cushions and crossed her long, luscious legs. "Personally, I think it's okay to masturbate once in awhile, as long as you don't get carried away. I have an older brother, Tom. He's in the Marines now. He used to jack off alot, too" Her voice was beginning to sound a bit strange, like she was out of breath or something, and she had just the barest hint of a smile on her face.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so," I mumbled. I couldn't believe I was sitting on my living room couch, talking to Heather Wilson about jacking off! I suddenly felt my cock begin to stir inside my pants.
"So how often do you do it?" she inquired again.
"N -- Not often. Once in awhile, I guess." I began to perspire. The room had suddenly begun to feel quite warm. Some sort of problem with the thermostat, no doubt.
"Once a week?"
"Yeah, I suppose..."
"More?"
"Well, sometimes."
"Do you do it every day?" she smiled a kind of strange smile.
This was getting out of hand! My cock was definitely beginning to swell! "Look, Heather," I said, somewhat desperately.. "Maybe we should talk about something else. Um, how do you like going to our school?"
"School is fine, Wendel, but you haven't answered my question. Do you jack off every day?" Heather brought her long, sexy legs up onto the couch and tucked them under her shapely butt. She was dressed in the same short blue skirt she had worn to school, only now she had on a matching blue blouse that seemed to be just a little too small for her in the region of her chest. I could clearly see the outline of a skimpy bra showing through the thin fabric. My cock was now at full attention!
"Um, yeah, I guess. Sometimes," I shifted around uncomfortably on the couch, trying to ease the pressure on my expanding manhood.
"So you do it every day then. More than once?" she grinned mischievously.
"Sometimes," I mumbled. Heather's short skirt had ridden up on her smooth white thigh, and I could see the crotch of her sheer silk panties peeking out from under her rumpled hemline. They were pink! I was beginning to think my mother hadn't had such a bad idea after all!
"How many times a day do you do it, Wendel? You can tell me. I mean, I can understand the pressure you're under with your father dying and all."
"My father isn't dead," I sighed, letting my eyes roam furtively over Heather's bountiful charms. "My mother just says that. Wishful thinking, I guess. He ran off with their Yoga instructor, Maharish Fred, 3 years ago. They own a Buick dealership in Fresno."
"Oh," Heather giggled. "He's gay. You're not gay, are you Wendel? I mean, you think about girls when you masturbate, don't you? Naked girls?"
God! It was really, really warm in here!
"Yeah, I think about girls," I murmured.
"You still haven't told me how many times a day you do it."
"Two, sometimes three, I guess." I was getting excited! Here I was, sitting on my very own couch, talking about sex with the most beautiful girl in the world, and she had just said the word NAKED! Who knew where such a situation might lead? My dick was hard as a rock and beginning to throb! Without thinking, I blurted out "I once did it 5 times in a row, after watching that Pamela Anderson video on the Internet. Boy, she's hot!"
God, had I really said that?
Heather suddenly stood up and smoothed her wrinkled skirt. "Your mother was right Wendel. You do have a problem!" she stated coldly. "You should definitely get some help!" Heather looked around the room. "Where's the phone? I need to make a call."
"Th -- there's one in the kitchen," I stammered.
"A private call, Wendel."
"Um, you can use the one in my mom's room, I guess. Down the hall, last door on the left."
"Thank you," Heather said politely. "I'll be right back. Don't -- Do anything while I'm gone!"
What had just happened? One minute we were having a pleasant, stimulating conversation about my sex life, and the next she was telling me I needed to see a shrink! God! Why had I told her all those private things about myself? By tomorrow it would probably be all over school! Wendel Bates, sex pervert! Why did things like this always happen to me?
Heather returned several minutes later and sat down on the couch, a bit closer to me this time. She picked up the remote control and channel surfed until she came across a program she liked, and then settled back and began to watch the show.
"Uh, Heather, about before," I mumbled after more than 15 minutes of agonizing silence. "I was only kidding about all of that sex stuff. I joke around all the time. I'm a real funny guy. Ask anybody." I laughed nervously. "You,. um, won't tell anyone, will you. Anyone at school I mean. It was just between us, okay?"
"Wendel Bates, I'm sure I can find better things to talk about in school than you and your little 'problem'!" replied Heather, still staring at the television screen. I was just about to thank her for being so understanding when the front doorbell suddenly chimed.
"I'll get it!" Heather sprang up off the couch and hurried for the door. I wondered who could possibly be calling so late at night. Probably another one of mother's wacko friends. They had an annoying habit of showing up at all hours, usually with some weird story to tell about a dream they just had, or a past life experience they'd remembered. I was about to call to Heather to tell whoever it was to come back some other time, when in walked my beautiful Angel on the arm of Satan himself!
Johnny DiMarco!
That settled it! I was cursed!
"I hope you don't mind, Wendel," Heather smiled sweetly at me as she stood there with Johnny's big arm around her shoulders. "I asked John to come over to, um, help me with some homework for English."
A likely story! He wasn't even in our English class!
"Hi'ya squirt!" Johnny grinned at me with those thousands of teeth of his. "When my new girlfriend here told me who she was baby-sitting for, I just had to come and see for myself!" He laughed. "A little old for a nanny, aren't we Master? Or do you still need somebody to change your diapers before beddy-bye?"
"Be nice now, Johnny," Heather chided. "Wendel's mother just thought he might need a little company while she was away. Isn't that right, Wendel?"
"Uh, yeah, that was it! Company!" I stammered, still unable to believe how amazingly poorly this evening, not to mention my life as a whole, was turning out. Johnny smirked and then bent down and whispered something into Heather's ear.
"Johnny, you're terrible!" she giggled. He whispered again. She giggled again. I was beginning to sense a pattern.
"Umm, Johnny and I need some privacy to go over that homework assignment we're working on." Heather tried to sound convincing as the big creep nuzzled her lovely, swan-like neck. "We're going to use your mother's room for a little while. You can take care of yourself until we're through, can't you Wendel?" Now he was chewing on her ear! "You'll be a good boy and not disturb us, won't you? We have some important things to go over." Heather's breathing was becoming labored as the big, blonde-haired cretin gnawed hungrily on her tender white throat.
"Very important things," grinned Johnny, finally removing his big mouth from Heather's neck. "Don't bother us, squirt, if you know what's good for you!"
"Now, now, Johnny. No need to be nasty. Wendel understands, don't you, Wendel?" Heather flashed me a very strange smile as she led Johnny down the hallway in the direction of my mother's bedroom. Before I could think of anything even remotely intelligent to say, they were both gone!
Sitting there, alone in my amazingly empty living room, I couldn't help but ponder the disastrous turn my life had taken. Heather Wilson, the one girl on the planet I had wanted to impress, now thought of me as a perverted, sex-crazed little boy who couldn't keep his hands off his own dick! What's more, Johnny DiMarco, my worst enemy in all the world, now knew that Heather had been hired as my baby-sitter, and that meant that by 9:00 A.M. tomorrow morning, everybody in the whole school would know, too. Including the Janitor, old Mr. Weems, and he was almost deaf and more than a little senile. And to top things off, Heather and Johnny were right this minute together in my mothers bedroom, doing god-knows-what to each other while I sat out here alone and abandoned. I wondered, off-handedly, if it were possible for a person to die of humiliation? Probably not. I was still breathing, after all.
And, for some reason, my pecker was still hard as a rock!
I tried not to think about what Johnny and Heather must be doing together in that bedroom, but the more I tried not to think about it, the more I pictured Johnny's big, greasy hands roaming all over my sweet Heather's healthy pink body. How far were they planning to go, I wondered? There would be kissing, naturally. Would Heather let Johnny touch her breasts? They had just met, after all. Heather was no tramp! Still, she'd probably let him feel her up on top of her clothes. That was kind of expected nowadays. She might even let him undo some of her buttons and touch her bra. I imagined Johnny's hand sliding into Heather's unbuttoned blouse and grasping one of those full, round, perfect breasts, then squeezing gently. Johnny DiMarco, touching my own personal Angel's milky white tits! My worst enemy lasciviously fondling the woman of my dreams right down at the end of my very own hall, just a few feet away! The more I thought about what that horn-dog Johnny was doing to Heather – MY Heather, the more it made me get really, really --
Hot!
The thought of beautiful, sensual, perfect Heather Wilson being groped and fondled in the room next to mine sent shivers down my spine! My cock felt like it was going to burst through my pants! Never in my whole life had I ever been so completely, utterly turned on! Not even that time with the Pamela Anderson video! I couldn't help myself! Without caring about the right or wrong of what I was about to do, I reached down, unzipped my pants and pulled out the rock-hard slab of man-meat that was threatening to explode inside my shorts! I groaned as the throbbing member burst forth from my open fly and stood out stiff and proud as I sat squirming on the living room couch. It was like I had no control over my own actions. My cock was in charge now, and I was helpless to resist! Taking hold of myself, I closed my eyes and began to slide my closed fist slowly up and down the length of my burning manhood. I groaned as I felt my fingers caressing the smooth, sensitive shaft. Up, down, up, down, slowly, not too fast, up down, up, down, so good....so good...
Suddenly I heard a short scream coming from the direction of my mother's bedroom, followed quickly by a giggle. What were they doing, I wondered as I gently massaged by throbbing prick? How far were they going to go, all alone in that room at the end of the hall?
I had to know!
Reaching down, I deftly removed my shoes and socks and then very quietly got up off the couch. I made my way cautiously down the narrow hallway, stepping as softly as I possibly could, my exposed prick pointing the way like some obscene divining rod as it protruded from my unzipped jeans. Reaching my destination undetected, I carefully opened the door to my darkened bedroom and stepped inside, closing it gently behind me. I had done it! I slowly crept over to the nightstand next to my bed and knelt down on the floor, placing my ear close to the heating vent in the wall that separated my room from my mother's. I knew from past experience that everything that went on in either room could be heard clearly through the openings in the vent. For the first time ever, I was thankful for that fact!
At first all I could hear was a sort of rustling sound, and an occasional squeak of bedsprings. I was beginning to think my plan was doomed to failure, just like everything else in my life. Then, suddenly, clear as a bell, I heard:
"Oooh, Johnny. That feels so gooood!"
It was Heather! She almost sounded like she was here in my room! I grabbed my dick and began to pump!
"Oh, baby! You have the sweetest tits in the world! I could suck on your pretty pink nipples all night long!"
God! That was Johnny! I couldn't believe it! Heather had let him take out her breasts!! I began to pump faster.
"We don't have all night, Johnny. Wendel is just down the hall and Mrs. Bates will be home soon. We have to hurry!"
"Anything you say, baby!"
I heard the bedsprings squeak again and then a sort of zipping sound.
"Oooohhh, Johnny. You're big!
What was Heather talking about? Johnny was a wrestler. Of course he was big. He worked out.
"Kiss it for me baby. Make me feel good with that sweet mouth of yours! OooH! Uh! Oh baby! Yes! Yes! Again! Do it again!"
I was getting confused. If Heather was kissing him, how could he still be talking?
"Johnny...Johnny...Mmmlllfffpp!"
"Aaawww! Heather! Yesssss! That's it! Suck it! Oh baby! Do it! Suck my dick!"
His dick? His DICK?! OH MY GOD!! They'd been talking about Johnny's DICK! My heart began to pound wildly in my chest! Right in the next room, Johnny DiMarco had taken out his big, fat, naked dick, and sweet, pure, angelic Heather Wilson was giving him HEAD! My pumping fist literally pummeled my throbbing prick as I pictured Heather's full, luscious lips wrapped around Johnny DiMarco's nasty pecker. She was sucking his cock! Sucking it! Sucking it! -- Up down up down -- in her mouth -- up down up down -- sucking! Heather! Heather!
"Oooh, Heather, baby, you suck so goood! Mmmm! Uuuuhhh! Aaaawww! Oh man! That's all I can take, baby! You'd better ease off! Heather? Y - you'd better stop now babe. I -- uh! Heather! Really! That's enough! Oh MAN! Heather! Please! You're gonna make me CUM! Uh! Uh! Oh baby! I really mean it! Hhhggnn! Heather! I'm not kidding! I'm gonna squirt! Oh GOD! Heather!! Oh GOD Oh GOD! Stop now, or I'm gonna squirt in your mouth! HEATHER! You're gonna make me cum in your MOUTH!! Heather!! HEATHER!!! Oh Baby! I'm gonna do it! Here it comes!! HERE IT COMES!! Yaa-AAAHHHH!!! UH! UH! UH! UH! UUUUUUU-UUUHHHH!!!!! ......Aaaaaahhhh..."
That was it! My swollen cock lurched twice in my fist and then began to spurt Gobs of heavy white cockcream all over my clean T-shirt, with a generous amount landing on the wall next to the vent and a final few drops dribbling onto the polyester fibers of the thick shag carpeting on my bedroom floor!
I had never cum so hard in my life!
After taking a much-needed minute to bask in the aftermath, I was about to try to sneak back into the living room when I heard:
"God, Heather! That...was...amazing!"
"What's the matter, Johnny? Your other girlfriends don't like to swallow? Shame on them. Drinking the cum is the best part!"
"Whew! You're something else, woman! And to think I had you pegged as a shy little virgin!"
"Not when there's a big hunk of juicy man-meat like this around. Oooh! What have we here? Mmmmm! Lucky me! You're beginning to get hard again!"
Johnny wasn't the only one!
"Oooh baby! You're too much! Uuuh!"
"Here, let me help you along a bit. Then you can give me a nice, hard fuck with this monster cock of yours...Mmmllfff!"
FUCK!? Heather was going to let Johnny FUCK her? I couldn't believe it! She had even said the word! Right out loud! FUCK! Heather Wilson was going to get fucked right in the next room, and I would be able to hear every minute of it! I could hear Johnny groaning, and the wet, slurping sounds of Heather's mouth on his dick. I eased myself back against the wall and once more grabbed my stiffening prick.
"Oooo! It looks like somebody's ready for some pussy!"
"You know it, blue eyes. Skin out of those hot little panties of yours and let's get to humping!"
"What's the magic word?"
"Please, baby! Please show me that sweet, juicy cunt you've been hiding from me all night long! I can't wait!"
I heard the bedsprings squeak again, and then Johnny groaned. My hand began to move slowly up and down my throbbing cockshaft.
"Ooooh! Heather! Baby! You're sooo fine!"
"C'mere, you big, handsome hunk of cock-meat! Mmmm-MMMM-mmm!!"
I could hear the bedsprings squeaking and the sounds of muffled groans coming through the vent. Then I heard Heather kind of squeal, and the squeaking springs began to take on a slow, steady rhythm. They were doing it! They were actually fucking! I began to pump my cock at the same tempo as the squeaking springs. Up, down, up, down, squeak, squeak, squeak! Up, down, up, down, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak!
Up, squeak.
Down, squeak.
Up, squeak.
Down, squeak.
"Ooooh Heather, you’re tight, baby! What a fuck!"
"Mmmm! Do me daddy! Shove it in! UuuH! Ohhh! Deeper! Oh god Johnny! Go deeper! Ooohh!"
More groans. I thought I could hear Heather begin to whimper. The bedsprings were speeding up their rhythm.
"Oh Johnny! Uh! UH!! Fuck me! Oh God! Fuck me with your big cock! AH! AH! YESS YEEESS!! Faster Johnny! Deeper Uh! Uh! Oh! Ah! Do it! Fuck Me! Ooooh!! Fuck me forever! Yes! Yes! Faster!! FASTER!! Oooh Johnny! Johnny!!! JOHN-EEEEE!!!!"
The bedsprings were going wild on the other side of the wall, and so was my hand on my cock! I groaned as my fist fairly flew up and down, up and down, up and down my sizzling cockshaft! Never, in my whole life, had I ever been so HOT! I closed my eyes and imagined Heather, naked on my mother's bed, her firm, pink body covered with sweat as Johnny DiMarco rutted into her like a dog in heat! I pictured her full, white breasts bouncing up and down in rhythm to Johnny's mindless humping, and I envisioned her long, beautiful legs wrapped around his muscular back, frantically urging him deeper into her hot, bubbling pussy!
And then it wasn't Johnny fucking her, it was me! I was the one with my cock buried deep inside her perfect body! I was the one humping in and out of her tight, wet cunt, making her moan with desire as I plunged over and over again into the soft, secret places God had created for the sole purpose of pleasuring my big fat wiener! She wasn't calling out Johnny's name, but mine, as I drove her wild with my mouth, my hands, my cock, bringing us both to a level of ecstasy never before dreamed of in the mind of Man!! I could feel myself coming, over and over, squirting again and again into Heather’s warm, wet depths! I could almost hear her calling out my name as we rode the crest of our grand passion together! Wendel! Wendel! WENDEL!!
"WENDEL!! My GOD!! What in the world do you think you're DOING?!"
"Huh?"
OMIGOD! As I opened my eyes I saw two shadowy figures standing in my doorway, silhouetted in the semi-darkness by the hallway light shining behind them. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the unaccustomed brightness. Was I still dreaming? I looked down at myself, sitting with my back against my bedroom wall, covered with fresh, oozing semen, my dripping dick still held tightly in my left hand, then I looked back at the two people standing in the doorway.
I knew, right then and there, that my life on this planet was over!
"Damn!" exclaimed Johnny, standing behind Heather and peering over her shoulder into my room. He was wearing a pair of red polka-dot boxer shorts and white sweat-socks. Nothing else. “Just look at the little pervert! My God! He’s sitting there fucking drenched in his own jizz! How gross!"
"Well, young man, what do you have to say for yourself?" Heather stood with her hands on her hips, looking down at me with a stern, angry expression. Her skirt was twisted at a funny angle, and her blouse was unbuttoned, barely covering her sweaty tits. Her bra was nowhere to be seen. I looked up at the two scowling faces and tried to speak, but I couldn't seem to form any words.
What was there to say, really? I was scum. I was lower than scum. I was the stuff that scum thought of as scum. They knew it, and I knew it. No words ever spoken would change that.
"I should kick the little freak's ass!" snarled Johnny, trying to push past Heather and get into my room. Heather stopped him.
"I'll handle this in my own way, John," she said as she pushed him back out the door. "He's my responsibility until his mother gets home. You'd better get dressed and leave now, She'll be back any time, and I don't want her to find you here, especially dressed like that!" Heather turned back to me as she stepped out into the hallway. "I'll expect a full explanation of your disgusting behavior as soon as you're -- decent." she said gravely. "And for God's sake, clean yourself up!" she added just before she shut the door.
I sat there in the dark for what seemed like hours, unable to move, my limp dick still clutched in my nerveless fingers. I heard Johnny walk down the hall and out the door. I heard Heather straightening up my mother's bedroom. I heard my heart beating over and over again in my chest. I prayed it would stop, so I wouldn't have to face Heather, or my mother, or the kids at school, or anyone else ever again. Finally, I took a deep breath, then another, and slowly got up off the floor. I stuffed my shriveled dick back in my pants, cleaned myself off the best I could, put on a clean T-shirt, and then, after a long moments hesitation, opened the door to my room and ventured out to try and salvage some small vestige of my life.
I trudged into the living room just as the front door opened. My mother sauntered in with a big grin on her face and said hi to Heather and waved to me. She was half bagged, as usual, and I could only hope that she was drunk enough to forget what Heather was about to tell her by the time she woke up in the morning. I somehow doubted that my luck would ever be that good.
"And how did you and Wendel get along tonight, Heather?" my mother asked as Heather was putting on her coat and preparing to leave. "No problems I hope!"
Heather looked over at me standing forlornly in the entrance to the hallway. I held my breath, ready for what I knew was coming.
"No problems at all, Mrs. Bates," Heather smiled sweetly at my mother and buttoned the last button of her heavy gray coat. "Wendel behaved just as I expected."
WHAT? Was I dreaming again? Heather sauntered over to me and, before I could react, gave me a tender little kiss on my cheek! Before she pulled her face away from mine, she whispered very softly in my ear:
"I knew you’d be there, Wendel. Was I more fun than Pamela?"
And then she was out the door and gone!
If I live to be 100, I swear, I'll never understand women.
-- Luthor