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— Originally published in Mandate
magazine - October, 1997 —
— Sweet 18, Never Been Fucked —
The empty hall echoed as I
opened my locker. I glanced at my watch as I filed my books onto the
upper shelf. Four o'clock: time to be getting myself home. I
sighed. It had been a dreary start to my senior year at Sandford Fleming
High, and, to top it off, it was my eighteenth birthday. I had looked
forward to my senior year, to being an adult, but nothing had happened —
no illumination, no sense of adulthood, nothing.
I rummaged angrily through the books for the especially hated math text.
I hated school in general. Working on the school newspaper was okay, I
reflected. I needed that escape since the cafeteria lunch-hour
experience was the subject of some of my darkest nightmares. But doing
layout on the paper really took up a lot of time, and I had the burden
of a particularly meaningless math assignment to finish for the
following day.
The uneven stack of books, taking revenge on my anti-school mood, gave
way suddenly and crashed to the floor. I watched in a frozen, helpless
rage. When the last book hit the floor, I bent down resolutely to pick
it all up. It was a good thing it hadn't happened during school hours or
the books would be skimming halfway down the hall, encouraged by the
boots of heartless students.
A locker slammed shut behind me with a metallic crash. I jerked to my
feet, spinning in a single reflex action. There stood Mark, one of the
senior class almighty. He was leaning straight-armed, one fist against
the front of my locker, regarding the mess of books on the floor. I
shrank back against the row of lockers, clutching the single book I had
managed to recover.
Oh, shit, I thought. With nobody around, my books were toast, and
perhaps me with them. But the big leather-jacketed form didn't move.
"What a mess," he commented with satisfaction. Then he grinned at me.
"You got a case of the nerves?"
I managed a faint smile and shrugged. "Having a bad day, I guess," I
said.
He looked at me with those piercing, ice-blue eyes. I was struck by the
peculiar combination of sullen, angry roughness and his commanding
physical presence. The broad features of his face, bull-neck and the
dark blond hair created a compelling attraction that I always found
disturbing.
I swallowed. Fear and sexual appreciation warred inside me.
"So," he said at last in a conversational tone, "when are you going to
suck my cock... fag?" The last word sounded like an
afterthought.
I was stunned! The question hadn't been delivered with the biting edge
usual in such insults. It sounded like a real question — apart from that
last word.
I clutched the textbook to my chest like a shield. My back pressed
against the cold metal of the lockers and still Mark hadn't moved. He
stood, towering over me like a menacing beast, a slight smirk playing
about his mouth.
Suddenly, I felt a flame of hot rage flare up inside me. I pushed my
head towards that smirk, straining neck muscles.
"Just as soon as you kiss my ass!"
I turned and made a grab for the latch of my locker. An instant later I
found myself pinned against them, Mark's big right hand pressing hard
into my left shoulder. I stared at the broad chest in front of me,
unwilling to look up into that face.
The torso moved toward me and to one side, and I felt a big knee
pressing between my legs, slowly forcing them apart. When it banged
against the metal of the locker, the enormous, muscular thigh shoved up
hard against my crotch.
The aggressive physical contact sent thrills of excitement through me,
an erotic warmth and weakness that radiated from between my legs. My
head fell back against the locker and I found myself staring up into
Mark's blue eyes, feeling like something small and weak hypnotized by a
commanding, predatory presence. My will evaporated and a feeling of
surrender engulfed me.
Mark lowered his head to mine, while one of his hands slid slowly and
sensuously around to the small of my back.
I closed my eyes and felt his lips, soft and hard, pressing against my
own. I felt my lips parting and Mark's tongue pushing past them,
leisurely violating every part of my mouth. The intense feeling of his
confident, masculine power, his sexual mastery, increased my willing
receptiveness.
The minutes passed. Then, all at once, the tongue was removed, the lips
parted from my own, the head pulled back, the pressure of the leg gone.
I opened my eyes, and it was only his commanding gaze that kept me from
sinking to the floor.
"Be out in the parking lot in five minutes."
He turned and walked down the hall, disappearing beyond the swinging
doors.
My senses reeled, and I slid down the locker to the floor. When coherent
thoughts returned, my blood began to pound and I quickly got up and
gathered my books, shoving all of them except my math text into the
locker.
I walked quickly down the hallway toward the parking lot, filled with
excitement. As I stepped through the doors, however, the fear returned.
The late fall sky was heavy with clouds that made it seem almost dark
enough for headlights. Just outside the door, a blue pick-up truck sat
with its motor running.
The passenger door opened as I approached. Mark motioned to me to hop
in. I climbed up, unfamiliar with the height, lay my books in front of
the seat, and sat down, pulling the heavy door shut with a dull crash.
We drove in silence. I took in little of the scenery, being acutely
conscious of the physical presence sitting behind the wheel. I turned
over in my mind everything I knew about him. I had always understood
Mark to be one of the school's toughest and most notorious bullies. He'd
been held back at least one year. From his size alone I figured he must
be at least twenty.
The very sureness with which he handled the truck as we drove through
the suburban streets re-enforced the sense of his being very male, very
adult. My fear was losing out to my increasing sexual interest.
When I noticed we were headed out of town, both my excitement and my
fear increased and my heart pounded, a knot of itchy warmth pulsing
between my legs. We reached the edge of town and he pulled off the road,
into an old automobile junkyard. Then he stopped and backed between two
piles of crushed cars, switching off the motor. The sky was a dark gray,
the sound of his breathing the only audible sound in the cab.
"Hey! What's that on your window?" he said suddenly.
I jumped slightly, then turned sharply toward the window. I felt the
seat depress to my left and turned back to see that Mark was sitting
right next to me. His arm was resting along the back of seat, barely
touching my shoulder blades.
I stared straight ahead, not wanting to look at him. His left arm came
across in front and reached up to my face. I felt the strong, sure touch
of his fingers against my right cheek, surprised at the gentleness of
the contact. His fingers slid along the side of my face, spreading so
that one moved along the underside of my jaw and two others came to rest
— one in front, one behind — my right ear.
My head was gently forced around and up. Mark's face was now only a
shadowy silhouette. His lips touched mine in a bare whisper of contact
that sent jolts of electricity running through my body.
The touch gradually became insistent, the softly textured, curved
surfaces of his lips pressing down against my own, the wet warmth of
tongue pushing between my lips. Its tip reaching up and behind my upper
lip, sliding along my teeth and gums. Then, it curled down to explore
the region behind my lower lip. Finally, it thickened and pushed my
mouth open wide, forcing its way completely into my mouth.
My lips closed around his tongue and I sucked on it, pulling it further
into my mouth. This exquisite sensation lasted for several seconds.
Then, the tongue was removed, the lips brushed one last time over mine,
and Mark pulled away.
When I looked up, I could just see the glint of Mark's eyes as he gazed
down at me, then the whiteness of his teeth as he smiled.
"You suck real good," he said. "But I got something better for you to
work on." He grabbed my right hand and guided it between his legs,
pushing my fingers down onto the large bulge that was there. It was warm
and alive. The touch, even through jeans, of his most private part
caused a tingling to shoot from my fingertips and up my arm. I
tentatively pushed my fingers against it, caressed the taut denim,
feeling excitement and heat pass from it through my entire body.
Mark's hand opened the belt buckle, unclasped and then unzipped his
jeans, pushing my hand momentarily aside. He lifted himself and pushed
his jeans and shorts down to his knees.
My hand quickly returned to the object of my interest. My fingers closed
around the thick shaft of his huge, hard cock. It throbbed slightly
under my touch. The air in the cab became musky and warm. I sat back and
quickly removed my coat, throwing it behind the seat. Mark did the same,
and in another five seconds my hand had returned to squeeze his fat
erection.
I pulled my hand upwards on the hot shaft, feeling the skin move with
me. Then, I shoved my hand down, harder, clenching with my fingers. With
my other hand, I reached out and touched Mark's swollen cockhead,
feeling its spongy round shape and running a fingertip across the
slickness that oozed from its tip.
"Yeah, okay," he mumbled. I could smell his balls as I stroked his
prick.
I felt a hand pressing against the back of my neck.
"Suck on it," Mark commanded quietly. He pushed my head forward and
down. I slid my ass further along the seat to get the angle right, and
finally felt my lips touch Mark's fat cockhead.
The hand at the back of my head continued to press down, and I felt my
lips push over the curves of swollen roundness, slick with pre-cum. The
enormous head slipped between my lips and moved into my mouth. My
tingling lips clamped around the thick shaft while my tongue swirled
around the curves of the cockhead, the swelling at its back, the slit
and the gap at the front underside that led to the thick ridge which
pressed down on my lower lip.
As the cock pushed up, my lips slid down along the shaft, the cockhead
pressing upwards, over my tongue. I began to suck, still moving my
tongue all around this enormous, intruding shape which pressed deeper
into my mouth.
The cockhead pushed along the top of my mouth to the back of my throat.
I arched my neck forward and continued to descend along the length of
that enormous, hot shaft. I took a last deep breath and pressed myself
down, feeling the cock fill my throat, cutting off air, and pushing
still further in.
When my nose reached the wiry hair and my forehead touched the wall of
Mark's belly, he pushed up with his hips, straining for a final
half-inch, and got it. He groaned quietly in satisfaction. I felt like I
was underwater, holding my breath. But I was in no hurry. The enormous
prick was right where I wanted it.
After a number of heartbeats, the hand at the back of my head stopped
pushing. Strong fingers grabbed my hair and gently began to pull me back
up. The cockhead retreated from my throat and I took several breaths.
The head was dragged back along the top of my mouth. My tongue continued
its worshipful caresses as the shaft slid heavily back over it, out
between my tightly pressing lips.
When the cockhead was pressing to pass through my tightly holding lips I
ran my tongue over it with renewed vigor, frantic at the prospect of
polishing its smooth surface.
Mark grunted again then pulled me off his cock, which popped wetly out
of my mouth. I sat up and looked at him questioningly. Without a word he
began unbuttoning his shirt. I followed his lead. When our shirts were
disposed of, Mark leaned over and kissed me again, roughly,
passionately. I raised my hands and wrapped them around the back of his
head, feeling the silky coolness of his hair. He explored my chest and
belly with one hand, his mouth moving over to my left ear.
"Undo your pants," he whispered, nuzzling me.
I struggled with the clip, undid the zipper and then pulled my pants
down to my knees, then to my ankles, and lowered my bare ass onto the
smooth leather of the seat.
Mark's hand touched my left thigh and slid along the inside, up to my
balls and, pushing them aside, pressed right up against the left
underside of my belly with the knife-edge of his hand. I was hard as a
rock. The back of his forearm gently brushed my erection, but he took no
notice, circling my cock with his hand. He slid his hand down the inside
of my right thigh, down to the knee.
My cock, untouched, was buzzing with sexual excitement, but I said
nothing as Mark's tongue continued to explore my left ear.
The hand on my leg reached under my left knees and lifted, turning me
slightly, bringing my naked ass up against his right hip. He lifted me
further, so that my ass was exposed and I felt the hot, hard pressure of
his cock against my left ass cheek.
Mark's right hand circled my torso, and he pulled me back against his
chest. He maneuvered his cock until it slid into the sweaty, mostly
hairless crack of my ass.
I heard the crinkle of plastic right behind my left ear and, after a
half-minute of concentrated activity in which Mark's fingers deftly
sheathed the hard rod that pressed beneath me, he spat out the empty
packet, which flew past my face and landed on the seat beside me.
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