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True Confessions #6 - Sloppy Seconds...
True Confessions #6 - Sloppy Seconds...
Okay, here it is. How I lost my virginity. (That’s really a dumb thing to say, isn’t it? I mean, it’s pretty obvious how one loses one’s virginity--it’s called first time fucking, right? And I really didn’t “lose” it--I know exactly where it went!) Anyway…
The woman who lived down the lane and across highway PA-18 in the actual “village” of Old Concord, Pennsylvania (a suburb of Prosperity, Pa., which itself was nothing but a tiny suburb of Washington, Pa., south of Pittsburgh) was one of those merry-widow types. Her husband wasn’t really dead, but away a lot. They were city folk who liked to flaunt there stuff around the hicks like us as though we all were supposed to be impressed or something. Her name was Julie P. She was in her mid-thirties, red-head, cute but not a knock-out, with two small kids who spent the summer away at some fancy kids camp in New England. Julie was the first of our few neighbors who made the trek up the narrow lane in the woods to our place shortly after we moved there as the unofficial president and only member of the Old Concord Welcome Committee. She seemed nice enough, and when she found out that Mom was a registered nurse, well, she really turned nice! At least once a week Mom would get a call from Julie asking some kind of medical question, or describing some hypo-condriatic symptom… Mom was delighted to have a new friend, but I think Julie had ulterior motives. I noticed it the first time she came to our place that she seemed to be looking at me in a neat sort of way.
So it came to pass that Julie P. hired 16-year-old me to be her weekly grass cutter. I didn’t notice at that time, but she too seemed to lay out on the days I was there to mow the lawn, and on those days, she too required assistance applying the sun tan lotion to her back. I did notice at the time, that Henry P. never seemed to be around. One day after I finished cleaning up the grass clippings and stowed the lawn mower in their shed, she made me another job offer.
“I’ve been wanting to clean out the attic, and I’d be willing to pay you a little extra if you’d help me,” she said.
“Sure!” I agreed, thinking that $10 to cut a 20-foot by 50-foot lot once a week was plenty adequate, so what was another few bucks to clean out some attic, eh? And besides, I was saving up for my first car, so every little bit would help. What I wasn’t thinking about, obviously, was what she meant by “a little extra.” Somehow that kind of thing didn’t seem important to a 16-year-old boy with a brand-new driver’s license and only a couple hundred dollars away from that maroon ‘66 Cutlass F-85 parked in the back row at Bud Bair Buick, Inc.
“Can you stay today?” she asked.
“I should call home at let Mom know.”
“I already did. Your mother said it would be okay,” she smiled as she led me into the kitchen. “Want a Pepsi?”
So, for the next few hours, I got dirtier and sweatier in a really hot attic that really didn’t look like there was a really lot of stuff to clean out. It was a really sharp attic when I was done, though! Swept the old wooden-planked floor, fixed a couple of hanging lights, even cleaned the windows on either end. Julie helped. She sat on a box and talked a lot; nothing heavy or sexual… “So, you’ll be a Junior this year? You‘re what, 16 now?” and “So, do you work out? Play sports?” and “So, how ‘bout them Pirates? Been to the new stadium yet? Henry’s got season box seats, but he says Three Rivers just doesn’t have the same romantic flavor that Forbes Field had. Maybe I could take you before the summer ends, what do you think?”
“I’d have to ask my parents,” I told her, not really paying much attention to what she’d been babbling about anyway.
“I already did. Your mother said it would be okay.”
And that’s pretty much how that afternoon went. When I finally ran out of things to clean up, I started looking for a polite excuse to get home. I was tired, dirty, stinky… I needed a shower. And as though she’d been reading my mind:
“I can’t send you home looking like that!” Julie said, picking up a 6-pack’s worth of my empty Pepsi cans. “You can take a bath here, and I’ll make us some supper.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I really should get going.”
“I insist! And besides, your mother already said it would be okay.”
Jesus Lord God gimme strength! I just want to go home! I thought, but smiled politely anyway.
As I laid back in the tub to rinse my hair, I happened to open my eyes for a second and saw an eye ball looking back at me through a dime-sized hole in the ceiling. What the fuck? I thought and sat up right away. Is this really happening?
“You almost done in there?” she called from the kitchen, one floor down and on the other end of the house’s floor plan. I concluded that I must have been having an hallucination. Surely she couldn’t have been peeping on me! Turn about is fair play, eh? I heard a voice in my mind say, reminding me of my own share of peeping some years ago.
Supper went just fine. B-L-T's (two of ‘em!), small-curd cottage cheese with just the right amount of black pepper sprinkled on top, and Pringles (original flavor; the other varieties hadn’t been invented yet). My favorites. And again, as if reading my mind:
“Your mother said you liked these.”
We talked some more after I helped with the dishes. Paper plates would have been fine for me, but that was some nice China she had. Never had Pepsi out of a wine glass until then, either. I think she could tell I was getting anxious to get home, but she asked me to stay awhile longer. “I don’t like to be alone here at night,” she said. “Henry will be home around nine; can you stay til then? Watch TV with me?”
“Your mother said it would be okay with her if it was okay with you. She said your brother wouldn’t mind picking you up on his way home from work. So you don’t have to walk back in the dark.”
Joe DeNardo was just wrapping up the weather segment on Channel 4 when Pete finally showed up. Of course Pete just couldn’t leave without having a beer (he was old enough for the 3.2 stuff in Wheeling, but still too young as far as Pa. was concerned, and in a private residence, who was going to card him?) He graciously accepted (Shit! I moaned.) and by the time he had finished his third can of Iron City, and Julie had emptied her wine glass, with wine, for the umpteenth time, the living room conversation started getting a little weird.
“Da Kid is still cherry,” Pete laughed, punching me in the shoulder like big brothers do when they know they’re embarrassing little brothers. (I guess it's one of those big brother things... calling little brother "Da Kid". Dad called me "Kiddo" sometimes, sometimes still.)
“Hmmm, is that so?” Julie said, ogling me like a spider with a fly in its web.
“Pete!” I shrieked.
Well, one thing led to another, and before I knew just what had happened, I found myself calling heads when the quarter was still in the air.
“Tails! I go first!” Pete declared as he staggered off the other end of the couch.
“We won’t be long,” Julie said as she led him by the hand to the upstairs part of the remodeled farm house.
She was right. Pete was back five minutes later, grinning like a kid in a candy store with a windfall $5 to blow. Julie appeared a few minutes later wearing a shiny, silky-looking robe. She stood in the archway between the living room and hallway and motioned me toward her with a curling forefinger. I looked at Pete… he winked, then punched me in the arm again as I walked by him to face my destiny with the devil with the blue dress on. She swayed seductively two steps ahead of me, looking back at my sweating face the whole way up to her bedroom. Then once inside, she let the robe drop to the floor, turned around and embraced me with what seemed like a bear hug, and assaulted the inside of my mouth with a wet and able tongue.
“I really didn’t want to do this with your brother. You’ve been the target all along,” she whispered as she tugged one of Henry’s borrowed tee-shirts over my head.
“So, you really are a virgin?” she asked, looking up from the kneeling pose she had taken after yanking Henry’s borrowed sweat pants down to my ankles.
“Uh-huh.” (Gulp. Gulp!)
“Well… not for much longer, Sweetie.” She mumbled something else but I couldn’t tell what she was saying since she had something that belonged to me in her mouth at the time.
Five minutes later, after she climbed off, we laid side-by-side, panting on the satin top sheet of the king sized waterbed. That’s five minutes from the time she had closed the bedroom door… and only one minute after I pushed her head off my dick. (What? Premature ejaculation isn’t common for boy virgins? That was the first and only time in my life that I went so quick… and the next time with Julie, she helped me learn how to make it last longer.)
“You're much better than Pete. Was it good for you, too?” she said, then she laid an arm across my chest and fell asleep. Henry really wasn’t due back that night at all, and Pete spent the night passed out on Julie and Henry P.’s elegant thousand-dollar overstuffed sofa.
12/15/2005 12:30 pm