At 10:25 A.M. on January 6th 1999, an Angel
walked into room 222 at Alonso P. Bergdorf High
School! I swear! An Angel! Straight from Heaven!
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 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! Her!
The Angel!
She was dressed just like any normal girl,
in a short, pleated, powder-blue mini-skirt and
a short-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 ponytail, held in place by a frilly pink ribbon,
tied in bow, and her puffy white cotton sweatsocks
were rolled down to cover the tops of her ankle-high
Blue Nike Crosstrainers. She carried a hot pink
Nifty binder cradled in her left arm, and around
her neck she wore a thin, silver chain.
She was obviously in disguise!
She couldn't fool me, though. No ordinary,
everyday human being could possibly be so beautiful!
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 breathtaking 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 parusal. "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, I'll tell them,
without hesitation, January 6th, 1999, at precisely
10:27 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 schoolday.
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!"
God, 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, but I
swear Johnny DiMarco must have at least twice that
many!
"This is Heather," I mumbled,
trying to extricate myself from his iron grip. "We
were just on our way to Math class."
"Hi Heather," Johnny crooned,
grinning even wider, if that were 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 squirt in
your shorts."
"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 Thursday 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." she said as she adjusted the
necklace of power crystals she had just placed around
her neck. She was dressed in a long, flowing, floorlength
black skirt 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 seventies.
In addition to the crystals, she wore several layers
of what she called "Love Beads" around
her neck, 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-guides hate 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 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. 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 detective magazines lying on
the sidewalk on my way to school one morning when
I was nine or ten years old. There was a particularly
gruesome story in it all about this 34 year old
plumber 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 new insight, as well as a great deal of
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! My life was over!
"Oh," Heather blushed.
"It's nothing to worry about, really.
Boys his age are bound to get, well, 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. 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 play with my dick?
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 have a problem with masturbation! 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,
well, normal. Had she heard what my mother said?
Maybe she hadn't been paying attention. 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-pervert! 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.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so," I mumbled.
I couldn't believe I was sitting on my living room
couch, talking to Heather Wilson about masturbation!
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. For some reason,
the room had suddenly gotten quite warm!
"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. I could see the outline of her bra clearly
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 smiled mischievously.
"Sometimes," I mumbled. Heather's
short skirt had ridden up on her shapely thigh,
and I could see the legband of her 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 freely over Heather's bountiful
charms. "My mother just says that. Wishful
thinking, I suppose. He ran off with their Yoga
instructor, Maharish Ferdinand, 3 years ago. They
own a used car dealership in Encino now."
"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 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 sweet Heather's healthy pink body. How
far were they planning to go? They would be kissing,
naturally. I wondered if Heather would 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 her full, rounded 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 Johnny
was doing to Heather, the more I got --
Excited!
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 lewdly slide my closed fist
slowly up and down the length of my burning manhood.
I groaned as I felt my soft 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 open jeans. Reaching
my destination undetected, I carefully opened the
door to my 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 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 flying 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! 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.
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
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, your 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 frantic humping, and I envisioned
her long, beautiful legs wrapped around his muscular
back, frantically urging him deeper into her bubbling
pussy!
And then it wasn't Johnny fucking her,
it was me! I was the one with my cock buried deep
inside her trembling 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
her soft, secret depths! 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 almost hear her calling out
my name as we rode the crest of our climax 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 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 socks."Just look at
the little pervert! My God! How disgusting!"
"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. They new 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 forelornly
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 were 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!
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