CHAPTER 32 -- Summer Education -- Advanced Section

I decided that I would ask Dennis if he wanted to do more than just fondle my breasts. He was holding my back against his bare chest and playing with my breast one day, and I was really getting turned on. I had changed back into my skirt and blouse, but had left my underwear off so I'd dry out a little. I pulled all my courage together and said, "Dennis, would you be willing to, you know, touch me down there?"

He pulled back and looked at me. "I don't know if I should. It doesn't feel like I'd be respecting you."

"Why is it disrespecting me if I ask you to do something and you do it? I mean, it wouldn't be disrespecting me if you didn't, either. And you've been so nice and so -- decent -- to me, I can't imagine anything you did being not respectful. But if it's too weird, let's just forget I said it, okay?" We slowly got back to cuddling, but he didn't touch my breast. I've queered it, I thought.

The next time I was over, it was raining, so we didn't swim. We sat and talked about school, about what we'd do in August. Then Dennis said, "I thought about what you said last time, and I think I'd like to try it, if you still want to."

"Sure," I said. "But let's cuddle first." I unbuttoned my blouse and let him fondle my breast for a while. He started kissing me on the cheek and then lightly on my lips. He had one arm behind my back and one on my breast and I was feeling safe and really turned on. Finally I whispered, "whenever you want." He reached down under my skirt and started stroking my crotch with one finger, through my underwear. I reached down and showed him to be firmer and to stroke the insides of my thighs. I was getting more and more turned on. I pulled my underwear down some, using just one hand. Now he was stroking my bare crotch. I guess those sex education classes were good for something, because he found my clitoris by himself. 'Clitoris.' I could see the National Enquirer headline in my mind: "I was a boy and now I have a clitoris." He kept stroking and kissing me and in a few minutes I came. It was as good as when I did it myself, but even better because I wasn't alone. I was with someone who understood me and cared about me, and who I cared about. I took his hand out and raised it to my lips and kissed it. Then I snuggled up against him and said, "that was wonderful." He was looking at me, kind of thoughtfully.

I was turned so I was half facing him, and I was stroking his chest and all the way down to his shorts. I thought, I want to make him feel good, too. I sort of ran my fingers over the zipper of his shorts and I asked him, "would it be all right if I, well, go inside your shorts?"

"Do you want to?"

"I do want to," and I meant it. Suddenly getting him turned on and maybe coming was something I really wanted to do, I don't know why. "But I don't want to do anything you don't want."

I kept running my fingers over his zipper, and he didn't say anything. I wondered if I should stop, since I didn't know if it bothered him. After a few minutes, he reached down and unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts and slid them down a little, so his penis was uncovered. It was already hard, and when I stroked it, it got even harder and sort of stood out. I had an idea of what he might like, what with having been a boy, so I stroked his abdomen and his penis. I slid the shorts down further so I could tickle his balls. All the time, I was kissing his cheek. I alternated using my hand on his penis and stroking and tickling him. I could tell from his breathing and how he was stretching and tensing his legs and moving that he was really getting turned on. Pretty soon, he started coming and shooting semen all over his stomach and up to his chest, so I got a lot gentler with my stroking. When he finished and relaxed, I kissed him all over his face and told him it was wonderful. It wasn't a lie. I felt like by letting me jack him off, he'd given me something very special, and I was afraid he'd feel weird about what we'd done.

We talked for a little while. I think he was still afraid he'd done something wrong to me, and I kept telling him how right it felt to me and how much I enjoyed being with him. I didn't tell him about how I'd imagined him doing this to me for weeks already. I tried to imagine how Doris would talk to him, except I didn't think he would go for Doris. I offered to get him a paper towel or washcloth to clean up the semen. "There's a washcloth in the bathroom," he said. I cleaned him up, and we got dressed. He was still looking a little distant, so I hugged him, and he hugged me back.

That's how it started. By the second time, he was eager to do it. We'd undress and start making out and fondling as soon as we got to his house. If the weather was hot, we'd bring each other off and then go in swimming. Then we'd hang around in the house until it was time for me to leave.

But that wasn't enough for me. At night, in bed, I wasn't imagining him putting his hands on me. I was imagining him putting his penis into me. I knew what it looked like, I knew how it felt, and when I put my fingers inside me, it felt like it was just a taste of what I really wanted. I didn't know if I should say anything to Dennis. Maybe he'd think I was some kind of slut.

One time, when I was around Doris, I asked her about whether wanting intercourse with a boy meant you were a slut. I think she was going to say something about that being stupid, but she could see I was really serious. I'm pretty sure she could tell right away that this wasn't just idle curiousity. She sat me down and looked directly at me.

"Is this something you really want to do?"

"Yes," I said quietly, looking down at my hands.

"Melanie, please look at me. Does the boy you're thinking of want to?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked him. I'm afraid he'll think I'm a slut and won't want to be around me."

"Do you care about him?"

"Yes."

"Is he a decent guy? Does he care about you?"

"Yes, he's very decent. Maybe too decent. But I'm pretty sure he does care about me."

"Then ask him. He can say yes or he can say no. I don't think he'll call you a slut, but if he does, then you'll know he wasn't really decent. No decent guy calls someone who he cares about and who cares about him a slut."

That night, I had a dream of Dennis making love to me. I could feel him inside me. I could feel him holding me tenderly. I could feel him thrusting and each thrust turned me on more and more, until I kind of exploded with ecstasy. I woke up sweaty and throbbing. I wondered if I had orgasmed in my sleep. I couldn't get the feeling from the dream out of my mind.

The next time Dennis and I were alone together and he was holding my breast, I asked him. "How do you feel about, uh, going all the way?"

"You mean, with you?"

"Yeah. It was just, you know, this idea that kind of popped into my head." Talk about back-pedaling.

"Is that something you want to do? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yeah, kind of. If it isn't too weird."

He let go of my breast and just held me. He was quiet for a long time. I weirded him out, I thought. "I guess it's pretty weird, huh?"

"No, I don't think it's weird at all. But I don't know if I'm ready for it. See, I like you a lot. And I like holding you, and, well, the other stuff we've been doing. But sometimes I feel like we've been going way too fast. Like my body's on a plane halfway to Tahiti, and my mind's still at home."

"Is it all right if I say I'd like to try it, but I'm fine if you don't want to?" I wanted to say, will you think I'm a slut, but I thought I'd just sound stupid.

"It's okay if you tell me what you like. The problem is, I feel like I'm supposed to want to, too. Like, if I were the big strong man you seem to think I am, I'd be making strong, tender love to you right now. But I'm not. I'm just a boy who wants to be a doctor someday and hopes like hell he'll learn enough so he won't kill too many patients. I guess I'm afraid I'll do the wrong thing and kill you. Emotionally, I mean."

I twisted around and reached around him and held him in my arms. It sounds like a cheap romance novel, but I felt like I loved him. I mean, I haven't actually read any romance novels, but it's like I imagine they sound like. "You won't kill me. Even if you hurt me, and I know you won't intentionally, I'll survive. I mean, I survived West High." I actually believed it at the time. "Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I just like being with you."

Well, the next time I was over, he said, "I've thought about it, and if you still want to, we could, you know, go all the way." We cuddled, took our clothes off, played with each others bodies for a while, and then he got out a condom. "See, I came prepared." I thought, I can't get pregnant, we don't really need this, but I didn't want to say anything to discourage him.

Just as he was about to push it in, I felt this spasm of anxiety and I felt my vagina cramp. I couldn't help gasping.

"I'm hurting you," he said.

"I just got a little scared and tightened up. Maybe if you can just gently stroke me down there for a while, I'll loosen up. I still want to."

He held me and stroked me and kissed me over and over again and after a while I started to feel like I was going to float away. He put a finger in, then two. I concentrated on feeling how nice it was to hold him and have him hold me. I felt his fingers sliding back and forth, and then I realized they weren't fingers any more. It didn't hurt at all. I started to relax and feel him in me. I felt him sliding up and down on me and how our sweat made it easy to slide. I could feel his chest squeezing my breasts and his legs on my thighs and I was beyond turned on. It just felt so good. I started to come, and I kept on as he kept thrusting, just like in my dream. I couldn't help moaning. I couldn't really think, I was just feeling how good it felt. I finally realized he'd stopped, but I didn't want to move. I just wanted to lie there in the glow and feel him in me and on me.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

I started to laugh. "Is the Pope Catholic?" I managed to get out and then nodded. When I'd recovered, I asked, "did you?"

He nodded. I gently stroked his lips with my finger, then kissed him. We lay there for a long time, just stroking and caressing one another. Then he reached down to hold the condom as he pulled out. He went into the bathroom and covered the condom in toilet paper and buried it in the kitchen trash. We got on our bathing suits and went to the pool, but before we went out the door, I took him in my arms and held him tight for a while.

That night, as I was in bed, I thought of the nightmare I'd had where I was going to be sacrificed at West High. "They can't sacrifice me now, because I'm not a virgin any more!" I thought. And I did stop having dreams (nightmares, really) about West High.