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Archive-name: First/vickie02.txt

Archive-author: Solitaire

Archive-title: Vickie - 2





                                      DEDICATION



         The events recounted take place in a small Southern city, too large

     for everyone to know what everyone else did, but small enough that each

     person's reputation was common knowledge.



         The time  is the  mid-1950's,  a golden  age  in America.    Before

     Vietnam and  after the  Second  World War,  having just  concluded  the

     "police action" in Korea.  An age of sexual innocence before the  PILL,

     but also before AIDS.  An  era when teenagers searched for identity  in

     an ever changing world.  The 60's were right around the corner and some

     freedoms and values were even then being challenged.  But, for the most

     part, we held the same values as our parents had a generation before.



         This, then  is the  story  of my  own  personal journey  to  sexual

     manhood.  My teacher was a thin, beautiful waif who had already learned

     the joys of her own  body and was willing  to share the knoweldge  with

     me, a 16 year old, gangly teenager with more hormones than sense,  more

     desires than fulfillment.



         This series is dedicated to Virginia T., the girl who first  taught

     me the joys of sex,  lust, and love.  In  our few short weeks  together

     she showed me pleasures and sensuality I had never experienced.





         Vickie, this is for you.  Even after all these years I remember  as

     clearly as if it was yesterday your sweet kisses, your soft touch,  and

     your exciting aroma as we explored  the depths of lust in the  backseat

     of a 1950 flathead Ford V8.



                                    Solitaire





                               Saturday Night Fever



         In today's world, young men put a can of Skoal in their back pocket

     as an indication of their impending manhood.  In my day, the white ring

     on the brown  wallet leather caused  by a foil-encased  Trojan was  the

     same thing.  In  those days, rubbers were  kept behind the counter  and

     you could only get one by asking the pharmacist.  Always you had to  be

     careful that the women behind the  counter were elsewhere so you  could

     quietly talk to one of the men, shamed that someone might see you,  but

     also excited at the prospect of this rite of passage.  A few days ago I

     was in a  drugstore behind a  high school girl  who was discussing  the

     merits of ribbed rubbers with her  girlfriend who was working the  cash

     register.  In my day, the only  ribbed condoms were found in a  machine

     behind the door in the men's room at the truck stops.



         All of this preliminary explanation to  state that I was ready  for

     Saturday night  and my  first real  date with  Vickie.   My condom  was

     safely waiting in my wallet where it had been for the last six  months.

     (In those days, we assumed that  a rubber was indestructible and  would

     last forever, unless  used, of  course.   But that  wasn't very  likely

     unless you  were willing  to go  with  a girl  who "did  it".)   I  had

     captured the aroma of her essence on my handkerchief when I cleaned  my

     hands before going home, and I placed it on my face as I jacked off  in

     bed, dreaming of encounters past  and, hopefully, future.  By  Saturday

     night my cock was  so tender that  it was constantly in  my mind as  my

     tight pants rubbed  on it,  the feelings  causing an  erection and  the

     erection causing more memories.  This vicious circle meant that I spent

     the next few days walking around  my high school with a constant  hard-

     on.  Later I found  out that that fact had  caused more than one of  my

     female classmates to decide to accept if I asked them out.



         I washed and cleaned  my car, showering and  covering my body  with

     after shave (Old Spice as  I remember) so I would  smell good.  With  a

     half bottle of scent, I probably smelled like a French whorehouse,  but

     I didn't realize  it at  the time.   Promptly  at 7:30  that evening  I

     knocked on her door, dressed in black chinos, lime green short  sleeved

     shirt with the collar up  in the back and  cigarettes rolled up in  the

     left sleeve.  Mrs. T.  opened the door and looked  at me with one  eye.

     Vickie later told me that she had control of only one eye, and that the

     other wandered without control, but I was nearly unnerved by the  sight

     of a woman staring at me with one eye as the other looked all around.



         Stammering, I asked  if Vickie  was ready,  and she  invited me  in

     while Vickie's brother called loudly, "Vickie, your date is here",  his

     tone sounding like he  was about to  puke.  As  Vickie walked into  the

     room, I got my first chance to look  at her closely in the light.   She

     was much  shorter than  I and  was extremely  thin, her  arms and  legs

     appearing to be nearly emaciated.  Her face was pretty, even though her

     cheeks were hollow, and her  hair was done up in  a braid on her  head,

     her bangs covering  her forehead with  a sleek brown  shine.  Her  eyes

     were sparkling, unlike their appearance when we first met, and I  could

     see color in  her cheekbones  as she  blushed at  my stare.   I  nearly

     didn't hear Mrs. T's instructions to have  her home by 1:00 and that  I

     should drive carefully, and  other general bull  that all parents  tell

     their children's dates.



         As we walked to my car, her poodle skirt swished half way down  her

     calves.  I helped her  into the passenger seat,  and she slid half  way

     across, waiting for me to get into the car.  I had barely shut the door

     when I felt her hand on my thigh as she leaned against my shoulder, her

     head relaxed against the seat back.  Starting the flathead 8, I started

     for town, heading  for the movie  theater.  Her  eyes were closed  and,

     when I finally got to the  theater and parked, seemed surprised to  see

     where we were.



         "You don't have to take me in there if you don't want to," she said

     in a small voice.   In those days, your  own reputation was colored  by

     the company you kept, and she  knew that my reputation would change  if

     we were seen together a second time.



         "I want to," was all I said as I got out of the car, Vickie sliding

     out beside me.  We went into the theater.  While we stood there waiting

     for popcorn and Cokes, I heard whispers behind me and knew that someone

     was talking about us, and that the  story would get all over school  by

     9:00 on Monday morning.  I  wasn't really brave, I was just  determined

     that small minds in  a small city  weren't going to  make me change  my

     upbringing.  I took "nice  girls" to the theater,  and I was bound  and

     determined that I was going to take Vickie.



         We sat in  the last  row of  the balcony--the  make-out pit--as  we

     watched some movie.  Vickie leaned against me so my right arm could  go

     around her shoulders and under her  right arm, my fingers able to  just

     caress the sides of her  breast covered with her  blouse and bra.   Her

     sweater hid my hand  from the sight  of others, and  I remember that  I

     fought to keep my arm from going to  sleep, but I was afraid that if  I

     changed positions I wouldn't be able to touch her breast anymore.



         Her hand was resting lightly on my knee, and occasionally she would

     squeeze my leg as my fingers found her nipple through all the layers of

     clothing, my fingers  unable to  be sure that  I had  the erect  nubbin

     captured until I felt her reaction.   My erection, prominent all  week,

     was now raging, and I shifted to eliminate my uncomfort.  Finally I had

     to use my  hand to  release my  cock from  its confined  place down  my

     inseam and let it ride up my belly.  Vickie scooted down in the seat  a

     little more, and I thought it was to give my hand more access (which it

     did) until  I felt  her elbow  gently probing  at my  hard-on,  rubbing

     against its strength as her hand moved and caressed my knee.



         I can't understand  how I  managed to wait  for the  movie to  end.

     Even today I think that I probably was so aroused that I would rape her

     if not for the fact that there were about 50 people in the theater.  As

     we got up to leave, her hip brushed against my erection, and she leaned

     back so her  buttocks were firmly  pressed into my  groin as she  moved

     slightly from side  to side, her  crack dragging my  cock as it  worked

     back and  forth over  my body.   I  nearly came,  but she  giggled  and

     stepped forward,  leaving me  with  a raging  hard-on creating  a  very

     evident bulge  in  my  pants  (at her  recommendation,  I  hadn't  worn

     underpants, so there was nothing  to restrict or control my  erection.)

     I remember feeling that every eye was on my cock as we walked past  the

     rope which segregated the late show crowd from the matinee viewers.



         When we finally got to my car, I  asked her if she wanted to go  to

     the drive-in and get something to eat (still the perfect gentleman  who

     was "RAISED RIGHT".)   She looked at me,  looked plainly at my  crotch,

     and said, "I think we better get to the park before you bust the zipper

     in your pants."



         Remembering that speed caused her to get excited the first time,  I

     pressed the accelerator until we were going nearly 80 mph down the main

     street in that section of  town.  Rather than  risk the cops, I  pulled

     off into a residential section and  my tires could be heard for  blocks

     as I rounded curves at top speed, hoping that there was no loose gravel

     to cause a skid.   Her eyes were bright  with excitement and her  hands

     clutched at my leg  as she tried to  stay beside me  as the force  from

     cornering threw both of us around (remember, seat belts wouldn't become

     even optional equipment for nearly 5 more years.)



         Finding the back of the lake and parking among the other "make-out"

     artists, I killed the engine and turned  off the lights.  As I  reached

     for her, Vickie scooted  across the seat and  got out of the  passenger

     door, slamming it as she ran toward the lake, leaving me in a  complete

     state of  confusion, my  erection  wilting fast  as  my mind  tried  to

     understand what  was  happening.    Finally,  when  she  was  about  to

     disappear around the curve of  the lake, I got out  of the car and  ran

     after her, catching up with her about two minutes later.



         As I  reached her  side she  stopped and  turned to  face me.    "I

     thought you weren't coming, and I'd hate to walk around the lake  alone

     with my  blouse and  bra off.   You  never know  who you  might  meet."

     Saying that, she handed me her sweater as she unbuttoned her blouse and

     shook it off as she reached between her breasts and unsnapped the hook,

     letting it slide off her arms to the  ground.  Raising her arms to  the

     sky, she stretched upward letting the  coolness of the night air  bathe

     her nipples  so  that they  poked  out  like pencil  erasers  from  the

     pinkness of her areolae.  "I love to feel the wind on my tits.  I  hate

     clothing.   I wish  I could  be a  nudist and  go around  all the  time

     without clothing, letting nature clothe me in its warmth."



         I was dumbfounded.  I had  never even seen breasts before, and  now

     this sprite  was standing  in the  streetlight in  the park  completely

     naked to  the waist.   Quickly,  before  anyone could  see, I  put  the

     sweater over her  shoulders and  pulled it shut,  my erection  restored

     with the thought of what she was doing.  "No, let me.  I'll keep it  on

     so I can cover up if we meet anyone, but I want to be free.  I want  to

     feel the air on my  nipples as we walk.   Pick up my clothes and  carry

     them if it makes you feel better," she said as she started out  walking

     around the  lake, her  naked body  gleaming in  the streetlamps  as  we

     walked.  When we were near the park entrance a car turned in and bathed

     us in its  headlights, and I'm  sure the  driver caught a  view of  her

     naked chest before she could pull the sweater closed.



         When we finally got back to the car, I opened the door and she slid

     the seat back and  got in the back  before I could  stop her.   Looking

     around, I quickly followed  and shut the  door, extinguishing the  dome

     lamp.   She threw  her sweater  into  the front  seat and  leaned  back

     against the cushion,  her fingers touching  and caressing her  nipples.

     "Feel how hard they are.  I love the excitement and it always causes my

     nipples to get really hard and sensitive.  Put your hand on them."



         I reached out  and put just  the tip  of my finger  on her  nipple,

     pushing gently until it started to  disappear into her breast.  When  I

     released the  pressure,  it sprang  back  like a  rubber  ball,  poking

     proudly from  her naked  chest.   I  leaned forward  and put  my  cheek

     against her  breast,  rubbing  it  back and  forth.    "Kiss  it,"  she

     commanded as her fingers  tangled in my hair,  forcing my face  against

     her nudity.  I opened my mouth as far as I could and sucked her  entire

     tit, my lips lapping over the soft rise of her breast as I put  maximum

     suction, pulling my head backward.  "Do just the nipple," she whined as

     the heat rose  in her body.   I could  hear the slurping  sounds and  I

     attacked her  nipple with  my  lips and  tongue, sucking  and  licking,

     flicking the exciting bud of flesh as if  I was a baby nursing for  its

     dinner.  Her moans of pleasure filled  my ears as she let the  feelings

     wash over her, her  hands pressing into her  groin and rubbing  through

     the thick skirt.



         I put one hand on her other  nipple and began to twist and pull  it

     like I had the first time I touched  her, and I let my other hand  fall

     to her calf, rubbing her leg up under her skirt.  As my hand neared the

     conjunction of  her thighs,  she screamed,  "No!" and  grabbed my  arm,

     forcing my hand away from her crotch.



         Confused, I sat back  and looked at her  slumped down in the  seat,

     completely naked from the  waist up with her  nipple glistening in  the

     soft light from  a distant street  lamp.   Her mouth was  open and  her

     hands were frantically rubbing at her  pussy as, with a loud moan,  she

     came, her aroma flooding my senses.  I nearly decided to get out of the

     car, figuring that she was going to turn into another prick-teaser when

     she came back to  earth, her hands slowing  and finally stopping  their

     intrusion onto her pussy.



         "I'm sorry.  I'm off the roof now and I can't fuck or anything.   I

     didn't want this to happen, but it felt so good while you were  sucking

     me that I had to rub myself."  Now I might have been inexperienced, but

     I wasn't dumb.   I realized that she  hadn't gotten her fingers  inside

     her pussy, so I couldn't understand how she got herself off.



         "But how did you do it?" I  asked, confounded by the fact that  she

     had cum without any penetration.



         "I rubbed my clit, silly.  It's really more sensitive than my pussy

     is anyway, and it's right where I can get to it."



         "Clit?" I thought, "what's a clit?"   I had learned all the  proper

     terms for a woman's body  in Sex Ed last year.   I knew about  ovaries,

     vagina, fallopian tubes, womb; but no one said anything about a clit.



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



         Slowly she pushed both hands down her thighs, apparently trying  to

     decide if  she would  comply.   Suddenly she  made up  her mind.    She

     grabbed the skirt and pulled it up so it covered her breasts,  exposing

     her panties which  were wet  with her  vaginal fluids,  her dark  pubic

     hairs poking from  the sides where  the crotch was  forced between  her

     lips.  She stuck one  finger into the front  of her panties and  pulled

     them to the side, exposing a  curly mass of dark hair glistening  wetly

     in the night.  "Give  me your hand," she said  as she reached for  mine

     with her free hand.  She pulled it forward and let me feel the softness

     of her inner lips.   She pushed it upward and  I felt a hard nubbin  at

     the top of  her cunt  lips, and  she drew in  her breath  sharply as  I

     stroked it.



         "Is that it?" I inquired, my fingers pushing the bud back and forth

     in its warm moistness.   Her gasp was all I  needed to know.  I  leaned

     down to get  a better look  and smelled her  aroma wafting strongly  up

     from between her legs.  Looking back through the dark currents of time,

     I realize that I have associated the strong aroma of aroused  womanhood

     with that moment in my development.  I rested my face against her thigh

     as I poked and  prodded her clit,  flicking it back  and forth, up  and

     down as her  legs unconsciously shivered,  alternately trying to  clasp

     and release my hand as it continued its pleasurable explorations.  As I

     stroked her, I  felt the moisture  increasing and I  slid my open  palm

     against her  pubic  bone,  trapping her  clit  against  the  unyielding

     hardness as I rotated my hand, rubbing and squeezing the erect button.



         With another loud moan, she climaxed again, her hips jerking up and

     down, nearly dislodging my  head from its resting  place on her  thigh.

     "Oh God, don't stop.  Don't stop  now.  Keep rubbing me.  KEEP  RUBBING

     ME.  KeepRubbingMe.  Keeprubbingme."



         Her climax lasted for about two  minutes as I continued to use  the

     heel of my  hand on her  clit, continuing her  pleasure.  Suddenly  her

     body relaxed and seemed to collapse on the seat as her hands  fluttered

     at her crotch, trying to push my hands away.  "Oh, please stop.  That's

     enough for now.  My poor clit is  so tender.  Stop and let me catch  my

     breath."



         We both sat up with  our backs against the  seat.  "That was  truly

     wonderful," she said, taking my hand in hers and kissing the back of my

     fingers.  "I really did enjoy it.  Give me a minute to catch my  breath

     and I'll do you too."



         As we sat there, I reached over  and began to play with her  nipple

     again, softly touching it and the  entire surface of her small  breasts

     as we shared a cigarette, the  red glow illuminating her naked body  as

     she drew deeply of its addictive smoke.



         When she finished  the smoke, she  threw it out  the window  before

     turning to  me and  placing her  hand on  my crotch.   "Take  off  your

     shirt," she  requested  as  she  continued  to  stroke  my  prick.    I

     unbuttoned and removed it, throwing it  into the front seat along  with

     hers.  Her lips  and tongue danced  on my chest as  she worked her  way

     from my neck to my beltline, pausing to flick wetly at my nipples,  the

     sensation causing me to groan with pleasure.  She took one nipple  into

     her lips and sucked it hard, her mouth hollowing with the vacuum.



         Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my  nipple.  She had bitten me!   I

     jerked back  with surprise  and I  felt her  teeth grating  against  my

     sensitive bud as it pulled free.   "Come back here.  Pleasure and  pain

     are nearly one," she said as she  grabbed my hair and pulled her  mouth

     back to my chest, capturing the red nubbin in her mouth.



         Now that I knew what to expect, it felt funny; strangely erotic and

     strangely forbidden.  I  never knew that  men's nipples were  sensitive

     before Vickie took me in hand  (mouth, really) and taught me that  pain

     can be a pleasure in the right circumstances.



         I felt her hands at my belt and fly, and I lifted my hips as I felt

     her start  to slide  my pants  down,  leaving me  naked from  my  knees

     upward.   I could  see the  wetness  of my  pre-cum coating  the  angry

     redness of my cockhead as it poked up from my belly at a thirty  degree

     angle.



         She twisted her body so that,  while she continued to nibble at  my

     nipple, her tits brushed across my prick, her hard nipples poking  into

     my strength.  I was confused  and pleased simultaneously.  This  wasn't

     what I had expected.  I was ready mentally, even if not experiencially,

     to put my cock inside her pussy.  I had studied the sex book I found in

     my father's closet and I knew that my cock was designed to fit into her

     cunt.  But the book hadn't said anything about nipple biting and nipple

     rubbing and tit fucking.  I felt her hand go to the base of my cock  as

     she rubbed it back and forth over her hard nipple, the friction causing

     me great pleasure and great pain from the tickling sensations.  My hips

     jerked involuntarily  as I  gave myself  up to  the sensuality  of  the

     situation.



         I felt the semen rising in my  cock as it started its journey  from

     my balls,  and it  felt  as if  it was  nearly  burning as  I  erupted,

     covering her chest  with my  seed, her  teeth digging  in even  harder.

     Each time my spasms would subside, she would bite me again and  another

     spasm would shoot some more cum onto her.



         Finally I was dry and her teeth were becoming unpleasantly painful.

     I tried to force her  head away, but she kept  her face on my chest  as

     she changed to suckling and licking the tortured bud of my nipple,  the

     sweat from my body mingling with the cum covering hers to make both  of

     us slippery.



         She sat up and, while  watching my face, began  to rub my cum  into

     her skin, the  white globs  of cum oozing  between her  fingers as  she

     captured more and more of my love juices.



         "Did you like that?  I love to  feel cum on my titties.  I like  to

     feel its heat and smoothness against my skin.  I wish I could have some

     every night so  I could  rub it  in like this,"  she said  as her  body

     glistened in the streetlight.



         As I tried to catch my breath, I  could only nod my agreement.   If

     she could be this erotic while she was off the roof, what would she  do

     when she was finished?   For a minute I  thought that we were  finished

     for the night, but she had other ideas.  She leaned forward so that our

     chests touched, her hard  nipples digging into my  pectorals as I  felt

     her body  sliding  across mine,  my  cum  and my  sweat  providing  the

     lubrication.  It  felt wonderful!   Her soft  lips found  mine and  she

     poked her tongue between my lips, forcing its way into my mouth as  her

     hands started to search  for my nipples.   She found  both of them  and

     again started  pinching and  twisting  them, occasionally  letting  her

     fingernails dig  in  sharply and  causing  my  cock to  stir  from  its

     lethargy and begin to snake its way upward, bumping into her side as it

     jerked involuntarily.



         Giggling, she breathed into my mouth,  "Are you ready so soon?   Do

     you want  me to  do  it AGAIN?"  with the  emphasis  on the  last  word

     implying that she really didn't  believe it.  "Sit  back and let me  do

     you slowly, touch you slowly  so that it lasts,  while I tell you  what

     we're going to do next weekend."



         My mind is nearly a complete blank.  I remember her telling me that

     we were going to go down near  the river where we could be alone,  that

     we were going to make love on a blanket, that we were going to be naked

     and together under the stars; and I remember that she kept me right  on

     the edge of my third orgasm of the night, but she wouldn't let me  cum.

     Every time my body rose  towards the apex, she  would slow down or  she

     would stop completely and simply continue kissing me with her lips  and

     tongue.  Vaguely I remember my voice, sounding as if it was coming from

     some movie  screen, begging  her to  let me  cum, nearly  crying in  my

     frustration as the sensations welled up, only to be capped just  before

     completion.  My entire  being was wrapped up  in a small, thin  sixteen

     year old girl with knowledge beyond her years.



         Finally, she stuck her tongue in my ear and licked it wetly as  she

     whispered that it was time, that she was  also ready to cum.  I  hadn't

     been touching her,  at her insistence,  but now my  hand found its  way

     back under her  skirt to  rub at the  erect nubbin  at the  top of  her

     slippery wet lips.  As soon as I touched it, she groaned and I felt her

     hips spasm  as she  worked  herself against  my  fingers, her  own  now

     rubbing frantically up  and down my  cock, no longer  slippery but  hot

     with the friction  of her  movements as the  loose skin  slid back  and

     forth over the sensitive nerve endings, causing me to erupt again, this

     time on my own chest and belly.  Her hand started the milking motion on

     my cock head  again, my cum  giving sufficient lubrication  so that  it

     wasn't painful,  and I  remember  moaning her  name  as my  hip  spasms

     started to subside.



         Somehow I remember going  down to the lake  to wash off, her  chest

     glistening in the streetlights as she bathed my cum from her body,  her

     skin shivering with the icy coldness of the water.  I remember  holding

     her in my  arms, giving my  warmth to  her and shielding  her from  the

     world, and I remember  arriving back at her  house just before  curfew,

     but the memories are too vague to be recounted.



         Needless to say,  my thoughts for  the next week  would be  colored

     with the memories of what we had done in the backs seat of my Ford  and

     fantasies about what we would do on the river next week, the subject of

     another chapter in this series.



--



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