'Amber Fountaine' stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under the age of 18, or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts include gay or bisexual activity, in addition to any combination of water sports, diapers, cross-dressing or other fetishes and perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these stories are completely fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences of others he has met.
"Art", Chap. 1 (Bisexual, High School, Urination)
by Amber Fountaine
"I have no freakin' idea what she's talking about," Margie whispered to the boy on her left.
Dennis was in shock that Margie was talking to him. It took him a moment to respond. "Art," Dennis whispered back. "But I sure don't know what kind or why."
Margie and Dennis, with the last names, Bradley and Benson, had been assigned alphabetically to the same worktable. It was as unlikely a pairing as possible. With a student body of nearly two thousand students, these two members of Canoga High School, Class of '89, were nearly as socially apart as two could get.
Margie Bradley was cute as a button, on the cheer squad, in just about every important clique and club on campus, and generally considered the typical 'Valley Girl'. She dated football players (but only if they'd lettered), and was considered untouchable by guys like Dennis Benson.
Dennis was well toward the other end of the campus social scale. A near stereotypical nerd, he had brains and no brawn, and had yet to ask a girl on a date. The only thing he lacked to make the picture complete was a slide rule and thick-rimmed glasses. But by the 80's, slide rules had long since been replaced by scientific calculators (not that Dennis didn't know how to use a slide rule), and his eyesight was 20-20. Had it not been for the opportune selection of classes and the chance assignment in seating arrangements, Dennis would have spent four years at Canoga High School and never spoken to Margie Bradley. For a guy like Dennis, it was the teenage equivalent to hitting the lottery. He could hardly wait for class to be over so he could tell his nerdy friends who his Art class workmate would be for the rest of the semester.
As the art teacher continued on with her explanation of how and why art class differed from other classes at the school and what was expected of them, Margie continued to make occasional whispered remarks that Dennis found amusing. There was nothing sarcastic in her comments, just witty bits of intelligent humor that offered an unguarded insight into Margie's personality. It had never occurred to Dennis that anyone so beautiful and popular would have a personality too. It almost seemed unfair.
"What do you think we ought to look for?" Margie asked him at the conclusion of the teachers lecture.
Normally a straight 'A' student that clung to every word uttered by his teachers, Dennis had been paying so much attention to the girl next to him that he'd missed most of what Ms. Ford had said. He raced his brain over what he could recall, trying to somehow tie it together.
There were a dozen tables in the classroom and two students at each table, with two tables going unoccupied. Art wasn't one of the most popular subjects, but the new art teacher, Ms. Ford, intended to change that and had leaned on the counselors to send her students. At least half of the class was there for that reason. She'd told the class they'd be working together on some projects, but individually on others, and their first project was to find something artistic in what would be missed by the non-artistic eye. Then she'd gone on to explain art and design, style and shape, and it was along in there that Dennis had begun paying more attention to Margie's shape and her whispered comments than he had to Ms. Ford's lecture.
By the time she'd gotten back to the details of their first assignment, Dennis was hopelessly smitten and hadn't paid any attention. So all he could offer Margie as an answer was a weak, "Whatever you think."
Margie cocked her head, gave him a silly grin that engulfed him like a hug, and told him, "That's not the answer I would have expected from the smartest boy in school. I figured sitting next to you would make this class a cake walk."
Dennis was the most open and honest male Margie would ever meet and she got her first indication of that when Dennis told her, "Thank you and I'll try to help as much as I can, but I've never been this close to you before and I wasn't paying any attention to what she said." It was the complete, unvarnished truth.
She'd received a lot of flattery in her young life, some of which, like the things her relatives said, she assumed were sincere. But most of the compliments she'd gotten from boys her age she'd discounted as sexual smooth-talk inspired by hormonal urges to get in her panties. So far, it hadn't done any of them any good.
The consensus of opinion among Margie's circle of friends, if you counted people that talk behind your back as friends, was that Margie might be a lesbian and dated to hide it. That wasn't true. While she had been enjoying sex with a few girls for the last three years, she'd also fondled a few pricks and found the male organ fascinating. However, unlike most of her girlfriends, she wasn't on the pill and had no intention of becoming what the girl's counselor called pregnant female students: "a 'baby with a baby".
She was impressed with Dennis's sincere way of saying that he'd found her so fascinating that he'd lost track of what the teacher had said. So impressed, considering the source was a boy more known for his braininess, that Margie found herself blushing. She realized he was honest - and clueless, at least where their first project was concerned. "We're supposed to find a common, everyday item, that has artistic value and present it to the class. Sort of a 'show & tell' with class," she quipped.
"Got it. My grandmother's toaster."
She looked at him in amazement and wondered if maybe that flattery had been faked after all, or if his brain could really go from zero to the finish line in the snap of the fingers.
Seeing the look of disbelief on her face, Dennis explained. "My dad restored a '53 Studebaker that was designed by Raymond Lowery. I read a story about him and he was an extraordinary designer that was into all kinds of different things, including my grandmother's old toaster. All we have to do is bring in the toaster as an example and give a report on Raymond Lowery as a bonus and we get our first 'A' for the semester."
"You thought all that up that fast?"
"Well actually, I thought about bringing my dad's Studebaker, but he won't let me touch it. He keeps telling me that it'll be mine someday, but I think his idea of 'someday' is about ten years AFTER he's dead and buried."
"Do they let you use a car for dates and stuff?" Margie blushed after she asked it, remembering that Dennis was part of a group thought to be the campus homos. She wasn't sure if gay guys dated, or just jumped in the sack as rumored. The same group of people that thought she was a lesbian had Dennis's name on their '10 guys most likely to be gay' list. In fact, Dennis and his friends made up nearly half of the list.
He nearly blurted out that he'd never had a date, but that wasn't something he wanted to brag about. His folks had let him take his mother's car to the store, so he told her, "Yeah, I get my mom's car whenever I need it." It was his first effort with deceit and he hoped he wasn't blushing. He was fairly certain that if he ever did have a date, he'd be able to use his mom's car. So it wasn't really a lie, just an unproven supposition.
"Can you bring a picture of the car? And maybe some of the other stuff he designed too? We might even get an 'A+'."
"Sure. But I'm not doing all the work. You have to do the written report. I'll find the story I read for you to use."
Within a month, Dennis had become a God to his buddies. Margie Bradley would go out of her way to speak to Dennis when they saw each other in the halls. And if Dennis was good enough for Margie to speak to, Margie's girlfriends figured they ought to also.
"Aren't you worried about what everyone will say if they see you talking to gay guys all the time?" one of Margie's friends had asked.
"This isn't the middle ages," Margie told her. "We're no longer a homophobic society." Like most teens, Margie believed the middle ages of history ended somewhere around the time they were born, unfortunately leaving their parents to suffer from lack of enlightenment.
Canoga High School had the usual cliques and social groupings. There were no names or ratings, or designated areas for socializing, but everyone pretty much understood what they were. The 'A' list kids were the ones like Margie and the school jocks and club officers and the like. They were the ones most likely to have their picture in the yearbook a dozen times. Next was the middle group of sorts, and the largest, the 'B's. They weren't quite 'A' material, but were better than 'C' level. It was okay for 'A's to speak to 'B's but never 'C's. But of course, an 'A' would never consider dating a 'B'. The 'C' level was where the nerds and social incompetents were grouped. Some aspired to be 'A's, might someday be 'B's, but had some work to do to reach either. At the very bottom, were the 'D' students. Everything about them screamed 'D'. They were the ones that considered 'D' a passing grade and an admirable goal. They were the druggies and delinquents and spent most afternoons in detention before finally being sent off to a special Ed program.
Because of Margie's tacit sponsorship, Dennis was boosted from 'C' class status to high 'B'. If it weren't for the assumption that Dennis was gay, he might have made it to 'A' level that first month. Eventually, Dennis's sexual preference came up in a classroom conversation.
They were working together on a simple clay sculpture. Ms. Ford encouraged the students to discuss their work and to talk amongst themselves as long as she wasn't talking. She would have preferred they discuss art, but she was also a realist.
"How'd you wind up taking art if you don't like it?" Dennis wondered aloud.
Margie shrugged. "It was supposed to be one of the easiest electives. My counselor said that with the load I'd be carrying and all the extracurricular activities I'm in, I should take something like art or home-ec. I remembered I used to like to finger paint in elementary school and I hate to cook, so art it is. What about you? How did you get in here?"
"About the same. Three of my classes are advanced classes and my advisor said that art was perfect for a guy like me."
"Oh, I guess that's because gay people are supposed to be so artsy and creative and all."
Dennis couldn't help but blush. "Do you think she thinks I'm gay?"
Marge had to stop and look at him to see if he was serious or pulling her leg. She half expected him to strike some swishy pose, making a joke of his question and was surprised to see he was totally sincere.
"Well . . uh . . . I thought . . . aren't you?"
"Shit no!" he said as forcefully as possible without drawing undue attention. Then realizing he'd been vulgar, told her, "I'm sorry. Slip of the tongue."
"Most of your friends are gay so I guess we assumed you were too."
Dennis was about to protest that most of his friends weren't gay either but suddenly he wasn't so sure about them or himself. He and a kid named Tommy, a boy he'd known in the seventh and eighth grade, had progressed from mutual masturbation to jacking each other and then had traded blowjobs several times. More recently, he and Lester, one of his best friends, had done the same thing. He had no romantic interest in Lester what so ever, but the sex was fun.
And one of his running mates, Roger, was definitely gay and completely out of the closet about it. He hadn't had sex with Roger, but there was some interest they were both aware of. That might make it one of those guilt by association things. Roger was always campaigning for gay rights issues and had been trying to get the school administration to give a gay students group official recognition.
More confused than ever about a subject he tried not to think about, Dennis told her, "I don't know."
"You don't know if you're gay or you don't know if your friends are?"
Curtly, wishing she'd change the subject, he told her, "Both."
"How can you not know if you're gay?" she asked, pressing the issue. "I know that I . . . "
He looked at her startled, realizing she'd almost made a confession before catching herself. "That you're gay?" he asked, incredulous.
She blushed, took a deep breath, and softly whispered, "I guess I'm bi."
He looked at her, amazed. Dennis realized that for her to admit that to him had to have been a leap of faith on her part and a sign of how much she'd come to trust him. Bisexuality had been discussed amongst his geek friends with no conclusion. Roger and a few others felt that 'bi' was a term used by gays that didn't want to admit being gay. Several others, including he and Lester, took the stance that bisexuality was more probably the norm and a prejudicial society kept it from being more commonplace. But none of them were mature or experienced enough to be able to speak on the subject with credibility.
So assuming he was right and Roger was wrong, he told her, "Me too - I think."
"Wow, way cool," she said with a smile. "Maybe we can compare notes sometime."
He had no earthly idea what she might mean by that, or where it might lead, but answered, "Sure."
After a minute, she told him, feeling free to tease him now that they'd cleared a major hurdle, "I guess that's why you got hard looking at that picture in the textbook yesterday."
Thinking quickly, Dennis recalled that the teacher had been discussing sculpture and there had been a few pictures in the reference books being passed around that showed male genitals. He had in fact gotten hard, and had thought Margie hadn't noticed. But it wasn't because of the textbook. "It wasn't the pictures," he told her. "The top two buttons of your blouse were undone."
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, grinning and coloring slightly. "You like looking at my tits?" It was more a confirmation than anything else. She knew he'd been trying to look down her blouse from the first day of class. Then she glanced down, looking directly at his crotch in a way that he had to know that's what she was staring at. "Mmm, I must have been putting on quite a show. Looks like just thinking about it is making you hard again."
They were silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Dennis was trying to will his erection away and only making it worse. He finally gave in and discreetly adjusted it so that it pointed straight up and was less noticeable. Margie giggled and went to the box on their table where there were several more pieces of modeling clay and in just a moment had fashioned a reasonable likeness to a prick and testicles. She picked it up high enough so that Dennis could see it but not the other students.
Then she continued to tease him, whispering, "I'll let you play with mine if you let me play with yours."
Dennis was flustered for a reply, he was almost glad he didn't get to give one. They'd been so busy in their sexual conversation that they hadn't paid any attention to what Ms. Ford was doing.
"Destroy that," Ms. Ford told Margie from just over her shoulder. "And see me after class." Then she walked to the front of the room.
"Why just you?" Dennis asked when Ms. Ford had walked off.
"She was probably watching me make it. I didn't know she was behind us. I thought she was out of the room."
"Think you'll get in trouble?"
"Naw, just get my ass chewed. If she was going to get me in trouble, she'd have taken me out in the hall or sent me to the office. She'll probably give me one of those, 'nice girls don't do that' lectures and make me late to lunch. Now I wish I'd taken drama so I could fake crying or something. Maybe I'll tell her I noticed the cock was missing off of one of those statues in the book and I was making him a new one."
It was the following week before they had another opportunity for a semi-private conversation. Dennis began it. "You didn't tell me what she said. Just that she'd be keeping an eye on you."
"I actually tried that story about the missing cock in the textbook. I told her I was just curious to see if I could make one that looked real. She wanted to know where I got the inspiration."
"So where did you get the inspiration?"
"I'll never tell," she answered coyly. "Did it look like anyone you might know?"
"It looked like a lot of guys I might know. I have to take gym, remember?"
"But the one I made was of a guy when he was hard. Do the guys in gym all get hard?"
"Some of them do."
"Do you?"
"I did once - a couple of years ago when I was a freshman. They teased the heck out of me about it too."
"Well if looking at all those pretty cocks in gym doesn't get you hard, then I guess you really must not be gay. If I was a gay guy taking gym I couldn't stand it. Doesn't it turn you on at all?"
"Yeah, sometimes," he admitted. "But lots of cold showers take care of that."
"Who has the biggest one you've seen?"
"Me," he told her, trying to be serious, but couldn't keep a straight face for more than a couple of seconds.
She playfully punched him in the ribs for teasing her and said, "No, really."
"There was a guy in gym last year - a senior I think - named Phil. I haven't seen him around school this year so I suppose he graduated. Anyway, he had one that was huge!"
"Phil Morris," she told him. "We talked about him in pep squad. He was dating one of the pep squad captains. She said it was too big for sex."
"I thought that was supposed to be what girls wanted?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never done it."
"All the guys you've dated - you've never . . . ?"
"Never," she told him. Then she got closer and told him in a conspiratorial kind of way, "But I've sucked a couple. Does that shock you? How many have you sucked?"
He was bordering on a big time blush and could hardly get the words out, but managed to tell her, "Two."
"Me too. Anyone I know?"
"One of them," he answered, and this time he did do a swishy pose as he added, "But a nice girl never tells."
"Nice girls tell each other. Would you like to be my girlfriend? Then we could compare notes."
That was the second time she'd made that offer to compare notes and this time he had a much better understanding of what she meant. "I don't look much like a girl, and besides, I don't think you better do anything to aggravate Ms. Ford for a while."
"Silly. We'd just pretend you were a girl. I'll call you 'Denise' instead of Dennis and we can meet after school at my house. My big brother finally got a job and maybe he'll move out soon. Anyway, we'll have the house to ourselves until my folks get home from work."
Dennis had been taking gym every year since the seventh grade and had done all sorts of strenuous exercises, but none had ever made his heart beat faster than it was at that very moment. Margie Bradley, campus princess, was inviting him to her house, alone, with no one else there, probably to her bedroom, and for the purpose of 'comparing notes' about sex. He knew there wasn't a single one of his friends that would believe him if he told them. He didn't believe it himself. "R..really," he finally stuttered.
"Unless you don't want to. Do you know where I live?"
Dennis nodded his head, afraid to speak. He had made it a point to find out every possible detail about Margie Bradley that he could. He'd had her address and phone number memorized since the first week of art class with her.
"My folks get home around 5:30 or 6 and I'm not supposed to have boys in the house. So you'll have to leave by 5 to be safe. But you could come over about 4. That's when I get home if we don't have practice or something."
Dennis was still nodding dumbly, unable to put together coherent speech, when the class bell rang, ending the period. He watched Margie walk out of the class, glanced at the clock, and started counting down: four hours, twenty-nine minutes. By the time he got out of his trance, gathered his books, and made it to the door, it was four hours, twenty-seven minutes. He had gym after lunch and wondered if there was any way he could make his erection go down by then. He decided to skip lunch and headed for the nearest boy's room and a private toilet stall to take care of his problem. He'd never jacked off at school before - but he'd never had an invitation to visit Margie Bradley's bedroom before either!
He was honest enough with himself that he had no delusions of getting laid that afternoon. What happened was a very pleasant hour of conversation, although he felt a twinge of jealousy when she mentioned the boy she was dating or one she might like to go out with. Sex was never mentioned until she brought it up right at the last minute.
"Oh, heck, it's almost time for you to go and you never told me about all those cocks you sucked."
"There were only two," he said when he got over the shock. Then he chose to tease her back. "I think ladies are supposed to go first. You didn't tell me about your lucky guys."
"Yeah that's right, and I forgot you're supposed to be 'Denise', my new girlfriend. You want to do it again day after tomorrow? We have cheer practice until late tomorrow." Then she looked him up and down. "Or maybe if Suzanne is still out sick, you could borrow her cheerleaders uniform and practice with us. You and her are about the same size."
"No way," he told her, shaking his head. "I'll wait 'til Wednesday afternoon. Besides, there are guy cheerleaders on the squad too."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Taylor must be the one you like to look at. He does have a cute ass and big basket. We think he's gay. One of the girls walked out completely naked in front of him and he just looked the other way. I'll bet he'd look at you if you were naked."
"He's in my first period trig class. I don't think he's gay."
"One way to find out," she said with a wink. "Now you better go."
To Dennis, that sounded like an order - or at least a suggestion that she meant for him to follow up on. He made it a point to get to first period a little early so that he'd have an opportunity to talk to Taylor. He wasn't sure if he'd gained enough status to get much of a response from Taylor. He was surprised when Taylor was glad to speak to him.
"Margie told me y'all are planning to enter a statewide cheer competition after the first of the year," Dennis began, thinking it wouldn't hurt to remind him he was a friend of Margie's.
"True," he answered curtly, like he was going to snub Dennis. But then he set his books down, turned back and began outlining the plans the cheer squad had for bringing home a trophy. Just as the bell rang for them to take their seats, Taylor told him, "You've got a nice build. How come you didn't try out for cheer?"
"I'm about as acrobatic as roadkill," Dennis told him and went to sit down, thinking maybe Margie was right. No one had ever put their hand on Dennis's chest and told him he had a nice build before now. He passed along what had happened to Margie during their third period art class.
"See! I told you," she teased. "You might get to number three before I do."
"You have a date this weekend and I don't," he countered. She always told him about her social plans.
"But I can't stand the prick I'm going out with."
"So why go out with him?"
Margie stared at him a moment and realized there was an awful lot about girls that Dennis didn't understand and she didn't have time at the moment to explain that the guy she was going out with was best friends with the guy she really wanted to go out with. "You really need to start dating. If I get you a date with one of my friends, will you go?"
There wasn't a single one of her friends that he wouldn't love to go out with and told her so.
"Let me check around. When we get together tomorrow afternoon, I'll tell you who to call."
She did better than that. As soon as they got to her house, she called her friend Rachel. After a couple of minutes of chit chat, she asked Rachel if she had a date for the game Friday night and when she got the expected answer, told her she had the perfect date for her. Before Rachel could ask, or Dennis could refuse, Margie put the phone in his hand and mouthed, "Talk to her. She wants to go out with you."
Ten minutes later, she almost had to rip the phone away from Dennis to get him to stop talking. He'd gone from shy introvert to chatty extrovert before her eyes. "You're going to double with Rod and me. We're going to a party after the game. Taylor should be there too. I hope he won't be too jealous to see you with a girl."
"We don't know for sure he's gay, so don't pick on him."
"Oh my. Look who's sticking up for his new boyfriend."
He was too excited about having his first date to bother to argue. Instead he asked her, "Who was your first date?"
That got her started. She told him all about her first date, then her second date, and was probably somewhere between number ten and fifteen when she realized it was after five. "Since I fixed you up, you owe me a really awesome favor."
That seemed reasonable to Dennis. "Okay. Sure. What?"
"I haven't decided - but whatever it is you have to do it."
"As long as it's legal. I'm not doing any Bonnie and Clyde thing for you."
"Who?"
"Bonnie and Clyde. They were bank robbers during the depression. Do cheerleaders get to skip history?"
"It won't be anything near that bad," she assured him, ignoring his sarcasm.
By Thanksgiving, Dennis and Margie were seen together so often that some thought they were dating and others wondered if they were brother and sister. In a way, they almost were. Since the date that Margie had helped arrange, Dennis had dated six different girls, two of them several times, and had gotten well beyond a good night kiss on a couple of occasions. And double dating with Margie was usually the way they went. Sometimes Dennis and his date would ride with Margie's date and sometimes Dennis would get his mom's car and Margie and her date would ride in back. And by then, Margie had gotten Lester's name out of Dennis as the guy Dennis met once a week or so for boy-boy sex.
"I want to watch you do Lester," she told him one day.
"Is that going to be the big favor I owe you?"
"No. I already know what that's going to be. You have to help us with the Christmas skit the cheer squad is going to do. We're short of guys to do what we want."
He could care less about a Christmas skit. He was more concerned about how Lester would feel about doing anything in front of Margie. Lester was constantly asking Dennis about Margie and if he'd done anything with her and asking about what they did when Dennis went to her house all the time. So it wasn't unreasonable to think he might go for it. But he wasn't sure. "Why would Lester want to let you watch? He might, but he might want to watch you do something too. Would you let him watch you and one of your girlfriends?"
She thought that through for a moment, blushed a little and told him, "There's one girlfriend I might let him watch me with."
"Really?" Dennis asked, amazed and wondering if he'd also get to watch. He'd tried to get the names of the girls Margie said she had sex with, but she'd always avoided answering. Even after he told her all about the two guys he'd been with, the things they did, how they did it, and gave up Lester's name, she still kept her secret. Dennis had come to wonder if she might be making it up. She'd told him in detail about the two guys, neither of which Dennis knew. But she wouldn't give up any of the girl's names. "Who?" he asked, trying not to let his excitement show and failing. "Which one?"
She moved in close, like she was going to whisper in his ear. "Denise," she said, smiling at him. "If Dennis will go down on Lester while I watch, I'll let 'Denise' go down on me. Maybe we'll let Lester watch."
Suddenly his heart was pounding again, just like the day she'd first invited him to visit her bedroom. If he could talk Lester into participating, Margie was going to let him eat her pussy. He agreed immediately, hoping Margie wouldn't change her mind. As soon as he got home, he was on the phone to Lester.
"Dude, you gotta do it!" he implored Lester.
"No fucking way! You didn't give her my name did you? Everyone thinks we're a bunch of fags anyway. I'll bet she'll tell the whole school."
"What's the big deal? You don't have to do anything but be there. I'm the one that's going to be doing the sucking. I'm the one that should be worried."
Lester hem-hawed around for a few minutes and then said, "Maybe - I'll think about it - if you'll do that other thing with me."
Dennis knew what the other thing was. Lester had developed a fascination with playing around with pee. Every time they got together away from school, Lester was telling him about some new way he'd found to wet himself or pee on himself or drink his own pee. He wanted Dennis to pee on him, or for him, so Lester could taste someone else's pee and compare it to his own.
So far Dennis had refused, but he'd tried some of the things Lester had talked about and was warming to the idea.
"We'd have to do that at a different time," Dennis told him. "I think she'd freak if she saw us peeing on each other."
"Maybe not. My cousin got me to liking it and he said he learned about it from a girl. So you might be wrong. She might like it and would never say so, at least to you."
"I doubt it, but I'll find out."
In the three months they'd been classmates and friends, their relationship had grown amazingly close and intimate, where they could discuss anything, including anything sexual. He felt sure if Margie had any desire to watch two boys piss on each other, she'd have said so. Yet as intimate as their discussions had been, they'd never been at all physical. They'd hugged a time or two, and Margie had given him a brother/sister like kiss on the cheek a few times. That was why her offer to let him eat her pussy had been all the more unexpected.
But then again, as he thought it through, maybe it was the next logical step. It wasn't fucking, which was doing 'it', real sex. That was supposed to be for someone that was really in love. Eating her pussy really wasn't anything much different than what he did with Lester. They sucked each other's dicks because they didn't have a girl to do it for them - that's what they used to tell themselves. Although now that they'd been doing it for some time, they'd admitted they really enjoyed doing it and wanted to even if they both got girlfriends. It was sort of like the ultimate thing two good friends could do for each other. Margie was a good friend too. If she wanted someone to eat her pussy, Dennis was more than happy to oblige her. And it wouldn't hurt to at least sound her out on the subject of pee play.
Dennis took the next opportunity to tell Margie what Lester had said, but he came at it sort of obliquely, trying not to grin or seem embarrassed - and not succeeding. "Have you ever heard of people that like to piss on each other for fun?" he asked as casually as he could.
"Who told you about that!" she suddenly wanted to know.
Dennis was startled by her abrupt reaction and thought his first guess, that she might freak out, was true. "Uh, Lester," he told her while he tried to think of a way to calm her down.
"How did Lester find out about me and Connie?" she asked, her voice continuing to climb.
Dennis looked at her, totally confused. Obviously they were talking about two different things. "Uh, I wasn't talking about you and Connie. Lester was talking about him and me. He wants me to pee, uh, and . . . . ." His ability to speak trailed off to nothing, his jaw hanging slack, when he realized the implication of what Margie had said about her and Connie.
Now it was Margie's turn to glow bright red. She'd screwed up and knew it. It had suddenly struck her that Dennis now knew nothing about her and Connie and that was supposed to be a deep dark secret and she had given it away herself. "Oh God Dennis. PLEASE don't say anything about that. Connie would die. I would die. We'd both die. PLEASE you have to promise!"
She was almost in tears and that made Dennis's eyes well up too. They were sitting on a bench outside the gym and Dennis turned and hugged her, putting both arms around her, his face inches from hers. "I'd never, ever do anything to hurt you. You should know that." Then he completely lost control of his senses and kissed her. It wasn't a brotherly-sisterly kiss either. It was deep and passionate and soulful and a shock to them both when she returned it.
In a moment they caught themselves and pulled apart. "Oh wow, where did that come from?" she asked, more of herself than of Dennis. But before he could answer and possibly say something to embarrass them both, she told him, "Now tell me exactly what Lester said."
He would rather have discussed her and Connie, so that he'd have some idea of what she had done, before speculating about what Lester wanted to do. But he ventured forth, telling her what Lester had said, and then all about the things Lester claimed to have tried, and then he'd admitted to trying those things too.
She listened and watched his face for any clue that he might be teasing her or making any of it up and saw none. "You really tried wetting yourself?" she asked, and when he nodded, she asked, "How did you like it?"
"I don't know how to answer. It felt silly, but sort of good too."
"What did you wet?"
"My jeans and underwear."
"Not the bed?"
"No. Heck no. I haven't wet the bed since I was . . . "
He suddenly recalled he'd been a whole lot older than any other kid he knew when he'd finally quit wetting his bed. He suspected that most kids were completely out of diapers, even at night, by the age of four and he'd been more than twice that old.
"How old?" she asked with as cute a smile as he'd ever seen.
"Nine or ten."
"Which one? Nine or ten?" she persisted.
"Okay, ten."
"Beat you. I was almost fourteen when I had my last accident. I was at my cousin's house and wet her bed."
"Did she get pissed . . I mean did she get mad?"
She had to laugh at his accidental pun. "Nope, just the opposite. It made her really, really, horny. You've wanted to know which girls I've been with. Well my cousin Kali was the first."
"You did it in the bed you wet?"
"Yes we did." She told him, almost proudly. "That was my last accident." Then she switched to her soft voice that hinted of conspiracy. "But I've done it since then on purpose." Then she abruptly stood up, letting him know the discussion was over. "And now I have to get inside. I'm already late for practice. We can talk more tomorrow or call me tonight."
He was on the phone to her as soon as he could get to his room after supper.
"You don't usually call me," she teased, knowing full well why he had. "Is it important?"
He knew that she knew the real reason for the call, but he couldn't just say, "Hi, how are you, do you really wet the bed?" And it was true that they seldom talked on the phone. Dennis's dad had rules about the length of phone calls and so did Margie's parents. They'd gotten in the habit of speaking for a few minutes in the morning before classes, again in Art class, sometimes having lunch together, and for several minutes after classes if she wasn't going home, or for an hour or so at her house if she didn't have to stay. If he called her, it was just to hear her voice for a few minutes and if she called him, it was more likely about a problem she was having with her homework. Her midterm grades had been all 'A's and she knew it was thanks to Dennis.
So he ignored the question about importance and asked about a test he knew she had the following day and when they'd exhausted that topic, after an unusually long pause, he asked her, "Did you mean what you said about wetting the bed on purpose? My folks would freak if I did that."
"If your parents wouldn't find out, would you like to do it?"
"How could I get my bed wet and not have anyone find out?"
"But would you if you could?" she persisted.
"Well not all the time. But I might want to try it."
She decided that was as close to a 'yes' as she was going to get on that and asked, "Did your friend Lester make up his mind?"
"He hasn't said anything. I'll ask him again tomorrow."
"Where do you guys get together at?"
"Here. My mom takes my little sister for allergy shots twice a week after she gets out of school. They don't get back until after my dad gets home."
"I've never been to your house. Is tomorrow one of the days?"
"Yeah," he told her, beginning to see where she was going. There was a lump in his throat - and another lump growing in his jeans. "You want to come over here?" He was sure that was what she was hinting at and had thought about asking her a few times, but loved her bedroom so much more than his. Her bedroom looked and smelled so nice. His looked like a cross between a science lab and a garage sale with a bed thrown in the corner. And he was really beginning to like it when she called him 'Denise' and her 'girlfriend' when they were at her house. Maybe she would at his house too? "Would you like to come over tomorrow after school?"
"Does Lester come home with you or do you call him after you get home?"
"I call him. Sometimes the doctor has to cancel. But if we're real quiet - and turn on the radio - we can do it when my mom is here."
"Why don't we meet at your house? And you can wait and ask Lester to come over then. We'll talk about it some more at school."
Dennis agreed, almost glad to get off the phone. There was a tightness in his chest that was making it hard to breathe. He laid back on his bed and again wondered how he could wet the bed like Margie had talked about and not have his folks find out he'd done it. What trick did she know that he didn't? Lester had talked about peeing in his pants and in the shower and all over himself in the bathtub and Dennis had tried all of those things, but Lester had never mentioned wetting the bed. He was tempted to call Margie back and ask her again how she'd done that. He decided to call Lester instead.
"Think you might want to come over tomorrow after school?" Dennis asked, as soon as they'd gotten past all the 'what's up' stuff.
"Yeah, that'd be cool. You're gettin' to be a real termite."
"Termite?"
"Yeah, dude. You like to eat wood!"
Dennis didn't get the joke. "Wood?"
"A hard on. You ate up with the dumb ass today? I think running around with your cheerleader girlfriend is messing up your mind."
You might be right, Dennis thought. Normally he'd have had his homework finished by now and he hadn't even started and he knew the reason was that he'd had Margie on his mind. But he wasn't about to admit that. "Where did you hear anyone call a hard-on, 'wood'?"
"In the cafeteria yesterday. One of the jocks at the next table said it. So we decided that if boners were going to be called 'wood', then cocksuckers ought to be called 'termites'. If you weren't so busy eating with the girls, you'd know all this shit."
Once a week, and not every week, Margie would ask Dennis to sit at her table in the cafeteria. The rest of the time Dennis ate with Lester and the rest of the 'geek group'. Someone had called them the 'geek group' one time, intending it sarcastically. But they'd all decided they liked it.
Dennis felt sure Lester was just jealous and told him so. "You'd sit with the girls if they'd let you."
"Are any of them termites? Bet your cutie girlfriend doesn't suck dick."
There was no way Dennis was going to tell Lester that Margie had admitted that she had. "Actually, they all do," he said, lying like crazy. "I just can't decide which of them is the best. I always thought you were, but . . . . I guess you'll have to come over tomorrow and refresh my memory."
"Sounds good to me. Think I'll jack off right now so I don't drown you in cum."
The following afternoon, Dennis had hardly set his books down when Margie knocked on his door. "Karen drove me," she said as he let her in. "We were sitting outside in the car and you ran right past us."
"I was going to call you," he told her, wondering why she was carrying a gym bag instead of a purse.
"I know. But Karen had the car and I needed to run home first and she couldn't wait."
"How are you going to get home?" Dennis wondered aloud.
He was suddenly concerned about how he'd explain a girl in the house to his mother. He hadn't thought that far ahead - another indication of what Margie had done for his mind. So far the subject of his having a girl in the house had never come up, so it wasn't like he was breaking any rules. When he'd finally started dating, his folks had been pleasantly surprised. He'd overheard his dad tell his mom, "We can quite worrying about him being queer. Now all we have to worry about is him knocking up some little honey-bunny and not going to college." Dennis wasn't supposed to have heard that and it was news to him that they'd been concerned about his lack of interest in girls. But he also knew they'd be concerned about him having a girl in the house when no one was home.
Margie told him her plan. "I'll call my mom and ask her to pick me up. She has to go almost right by here to get home from work."
With that problem solved - sort of - Dennis led her to his room and was surprised when she was impressed by what he considered (with his parents complete agreement), a cluttered mess.
"You've got a bigger computer than they do in the school office," she told him, spotting Dennis's prize possession.
"Yeah, probably so. My dad just bought that a year ago and then discovered it was too slow to do this new CAD program he bought. You can't trade them in like cars, so he bought a new one for his office and gave me that one."
"You've got a printer and everything."
Everyone in the geek group was envious of Dennis's computer. He was amazed that Margie was too. "Look at this," he told her, pointing to a box about the size of a cigar box that was on the table between his phone and the computer monitor. "It's a modem." When she looked confused, he explained, "It's for hooking up to the phone lines."
She had no idea what a CAD program might be and had never heard of a modem either. "You can make phone calls on a computer?"
He tried not to laugh at her. "Probably someday. It doesn't really work now though. I need to have some kind of an electronic address. My dad got it from my uncle that designs all kinds of things for computers that they use to hook up to each other. The phone company already uses computers to connect phones and my uncle says that banks and the government and a few big businesses are connecting to their branches and each other with computers over the phone lines. Some of the college libraries hook up to each other and my uncle is going to set it up so I can use this modem box to look up information at the library without going to the library."
Margie wasn't nearly as impressed as she acted. To her, a trip to the library to do research was more of a social thing. Several of her friends would all go at the same time. Dennis had mistaken her initial surprise that he had a computer in his bedroom to mean she was interested in computers. To her, they were like a mix of a typewriter and a TV that didn't have a channel selector. If you couldn't hook it up to the cable and get MTV, it wasn't worth much. She was here for other reasons and didn't want to waste time any more time.
"Do you think you could get Lester to come over if he didn't know I was here?"
"Sure, he's waiting for me to call. I thought I'd get him all worked up so that he wouldn't care if you're here or not."
"Is there some way you could do him and then get him to leave right away?"
"Uhh, yeah," he said after thinking about it. "I could tell him when he gets here that my dad just called and wants me to help him. Why?"
"I'm thinking I could hide in the closet and watch from there. Do you do it on your bed?"
Dennis nodded, realizing what she intended was perfect and wondering why he'd never thought of it. His closet doors were always open and Lester knew that, but it didn't matter. The two closets were on the side of his room where the roof sloped down and had clothes hanging near the front, but were almost ten feet deep at the floor. Behind the clothes there were piles of boxes and other things. She could sit on the floor of either closet with a perfect view of his bed, and unless she made a noise to give herself away, no one would notice her.
With that decided, Dennis called Lester, who'd been waiting anxiously for the call, and then he and Margie waited for Lester to get there. While waiting, Dennis asked again about wetting the bed and how it could be done without making a mess.
"Silly. As smart as you are, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out." Often, when she had a question about homework, instead of just giving her the answer, he'd ask her a series of questions to lead her to discover the answer on her own. She decided to do something similar. "What did your mom do about protecting your bed when you used to wet it?"
"My old bed had a mattress that was covered with plastic or something and she put the wet sheets in the laundry."
That wasn't the answer she was looking for, but went with it. "Can you do laundry?"
"Yeah, I wash most of my stuff. But I have a new bed and it doesn't have a plastic cover."
"Do you think you could find a piece of plastic, like a shower curtain or a picnic table cover that you could put between the sheet and the mattress?"
"Yeah," he said slowly as he realized how easy it might be. "My dad uses big pieces of plastic all the time for his building jobs. He usually has some in the garage. I could cut off a piece of that."
"See there. I knew you were smart," she told him with a grin. Then she tried again for the answer she was hunting. "And did your mom ever do anything to keep the sheets from getting wet?"
It was a little more difficult than admitting to being a bedwetter, but he told her, "Yeah. She used to put me in diapers at night."
Bingo! She thought, breaking into a huge smile. "Do you still have any?"
She said it like she expected him to have some he could put on and it sort of surprised him. "No, I haven't seen any diapers or plastic pants around here since my sister wore them."
"Too bad, but don't worry, I brought some for you." Then she opened the gym bag and pulled out a handful of adult size disposable diapers and answered his question before he could ask, "Connie got them for me. They're just like for babies, but big enough for adults. Her grandfather lives with them and has to wear them. She says her mom buys them in huge boxes full and Connie took a few for us to play in. If they'll fit our big butts, I know they'll fit you and your friend Lester - if you can get him to try it."
Dennis had a dozen questions, but the doorbell, rung insistently by Lester, interrupted their conversation. "Get the door dummy," she told him. "I'm going to hide. If you can see me when you get back, point at the floor for some reason."
A couple of minutes later, Dennis was back in the room with Lester, and after checking both closets, couldn't tell which one she was using to hide. That was good. What was bad was that she'd left the diapers sitting out and he was sure she'd done it on purpose so Lester would notice them and he'd have to discuss it.
"Dude, this is awesome!" Lester said, grabbing one of the diapers as soon as he saw it. "Do they work?"
"I don't know. I just got them. I, uh, was going to try them with you, but we don't have time. I told you, my dad will be by to pick me up in a little bit."
"Where did you get them? Is this all you got? Can you get any more?" He was asking questions faster than Dennis could answer.
"I'll tell you about it tomorrow when we have more time. If we're gonna do anything, we need to do it."
"Yeah, sure. I've got a load of 'wood' for you, 'Super Termite'. Think this will do?" As he'd been talking, he'd taken off his sweatshirt and then dropped his sweat pants to his ankles, leaving his hard cock fully exposed and pointing up wickedly toward Dennis. Dennis had suspected that Lester wasn't wearing underwear.
Dennis thought he might have heard a gasp from the closet on the left, but Lester didn't notice. He dropped to his knees, in front and to one side of Lester so that Lester had to turn slightly, giving Margie a better view. Then he began as usual, stroking and licking Lester's prick. He was about to slide it between his lips when Lester stopped him.
"Aren't you going to get undressed? I want to do you too."
"We don't have time."
"Bull shit. I think you're wearing a diaper already and don't want me to see it. Did you pee in it?"
"No I'm not."
"Then get undressed. Your bedroom is over the garage. You'll hear your dad if he drives up. I want to rub our cocks together like we usually do."
Reluctantly, Dennis took off his shirt, shoes, pants, and then his underwear. Lester watched, wondering why his friend, with whom he'd been naked together many times, was suddenly so embarrassed to get undressed. But he didn't ask, and soon enough they stood together, belly to belly, with their erections trapped between them and rubbing together, lubricated by the precum oozing from them both. For several minutes they kept up their own version of a belly dance. Then Dennis pushed Lester back so he was sitting on the bed, and taking his place between Lester's knees, commenced to giving Lester a superb blowjob and Margie a great show.
Dennis was running his tongue around the head of Lester's prick when the first squirt caught him on the cheek. Quickly, he put the cock in his mouth just far enough to be sure no more cum went to waste. As soon as Lester had finished, Dennis made a show of swallowing it, calling it the tastiest ever, and then began to hustle Lester out the door. Lester insisted on taking one of the diapers with him and Dennis let him, agreeing to anything that would get Lester gone quicker.
They got as far as the entryway, just inside the from door, when Lester turned and told him, "You forgot something," as he pushed the waist of his sweatpants down in front, letting his cock swing free again. They often made a silly game of giving each other's cocks hello and goodbye kisses, so Dennis quickly dropped to one knee to give Lester's cock a goodbye kiss. But just as Dennis was about to kiss the cockhead in front of him one last time, he saw the pee slit flare and was hit in the face by a stream of Lester's pee. Without any hesitation, Dennis locked his lips around Lester's cock and swallowed the short burst of piss.
"You should have told me," Dennis complained when he was sure Lester was finished.
"I wanted to surprise you. Did you like it?"
He thought before answering, then told him, "The pee, yes. The surprise, no. Now you better go."
"Thanks for the diaper," he said, going out the door. "I'll try it when I get home and let you know how I like it."
As Dennis walked back into his bedroom, he wondered what Margie's reaction was going to be to witnessing Dennis sucking dick. He knew it was good when he saw her emerge from his closet wearing nothing but a pair of cute lacy panties. Immediately, he knew why Margie always wore a padded bra. Her tits were barely a 'B' cup in size but that was plenty big in his opinion. The padding was meant more to hide her nipples than enhance her breasts.
"I guess I should have told you," she said shyly. "I have tits like a cow."
"They're beautiful," he answered in awe.
"You could almost milk these things," she told him, squeezing her nipples with two fingers.
"They're beautiful, " he repeated and stepped closer, causing her to back up.
"Be careful where you point that thing," she told him, pointing at his cock. "I think it's going to go off."
He suddenly realized he was completely naked, standing in front of the girl of his dreams, and splattered with piss and cum. He turned as red as the dictionary on his desk.
"Wh . ." He had to take a deep breath and start over. "Why did you get undressed?"
"You want me to put my clothes on?"
"No, of course not. . .well not right now."
"Does it feel good when you and Lester rub your cocks together? I thought that was so sexy."
"Yeah, it feels great. That's how we got into doing other stuff. I thought I told you that."
"Tell me again."
"We started talking about jacking off one day and decided to do it together. Then after we'd done that a few times, we jacked each other and then we'd take turns holding our cocks together and stroking them both at the same time and when we'd cum we started tasting it and I admitted I liked it and had tasted another guy's when I was younger and Lester said he had too. Then we both admitted to sucking cock and there wasn't any reason we shouldn't do each other and we've been doing it ever since."
"I think cum tastes sort of strange. Not bad, just strange. Do you really like it?"
He nodded and told her, "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Kiss me."
He moved as close as he dared without having his cock poke her in the stomach and kissed her cheek.
"No. That's the kind of kiss I give my mom and dad. Kiss me like you did when we were sitting on the bench."
He remembered that kiss, probably better than she did. He pulled her into his arms until their bodies were fused together. For the next thirty seconds, they ground against one another, their lips locked together. He thought her tongue might be as far back in his mouth as Lester's cock had gone, but he knew that wasn't possible. He loved the feel of her big stiff nipples drilling into his chest and by bending his knees and thrusting his hips, he was able to rub his cock against the smooth nylon of her panties. They might have kissed for much longer, but when she felt his cum splash on her stomach and soak into the front of her panties, she drew back slightly and let him finish shooting his jism.
She smiled up at him proudly, pleased that she could make him cum without using her hands or mouth. "Do you like the way my panties feel on your cock?" she asked when they were breathing normally.
"Yeah, I had no idea they were so smooth."
"If I gave you some of my panties to wear, would you?"
He looked at her, wondering if she was serious. "Would I wear your panties? Where would I wear them?
"Here. Or to school. Any place you wanted to wear them. Wear them on a date and see what your date says."
"Maybe," he said to pacify her. It seemed like everyone was coming up with wild, kinky ideas lately.
Margie had another one. "Lick your cum off me and I'll lick it off you," she offered.
Immediately, he went to work licking her stomach and the front of her panties where they were soaked with cum. He continued long after there was any possible vestige of his cream available and did his best to get his head between her legs. He might eventually have licked a hole in her panties if she hadn't stopped him.
Then she pushed him back on the bed, much as he'd done to Lester and moved between his legs like she'd seen him do.
"Am I going to be number three?" he asked hopefully.
"Maybe, but not today," she teased, giving him that coy, tilted head smile he loved. "I'm just going to lick it a little bit and then . . ." She got a sudden inspiration. "I'll make you a deal. If you find a number three and let me watch, you can be my number three."
Dennis watched her licking slowly around his dick, and then, ever so tentatively, she licked what was left of his cream from the sides and tip of his prick. She was so cautious and careful, that he wondered if maybe she'd made up the story of having had two prior cocks to suck. She acted more like she'd never been that close to one before and was scared of it. Maybe the real reason she wanted to watch was to learn how.
Suddenly, she stopped, jumped to her feet, and told him, "Lay back and let me finish."
He thought she'd changed her mind and meant to suck him off and wondered how long it would take since he'd just cum. And she'd once promised to let him eat her if she got to watch him do Lester. For a moment he thought that's what she was going to do. But she had something else in mind.
She picked up one of the diapers, unfolded it, and told him, as she began to put it in place, "We've tried wearing two and three at a time. If you like to pee a lot and wear it for a while after it's wet, one doesn't hold very much. If you decide you like it, I'll talk to Connie about getting us some more."
In their earlier conversation, Margie had made it sound like it was something she'd tried. Now it was beginning to sound more like a regular habit. By then she had it taped in place and was patting his prick through the plastic coated diaper.
"You make such a cute baby, Denise. Now I need to get dressed and wait for my mom at the corner. You wet your diaper like a good little girl and call me later to tell me how it feels."
He didn't bother to get up, just rolled on his side to watch her dress. To Dennis, every part of her body was perfect and every move she made as graceful as ballet. He was hopelessly smitten and would have walked her to the corner, dressed in just the diaper, if she'd asked. Fortunately for his reputation in the neighborhood, she didn't.
When she was done dressing, he got up and began to move around in the diaper, the first he'd worn in six or seven years. He couldn't recall it ever feeling so good back then. It was definitely different from the cloth diapers and plastic pants that he remembered. But he suspected a big part of the sensation was that Margie had put it on him instead of his mother.
"Call me about seven," she reminded him. "I'll let myself out. You better find some baggy pants to wear over that diaper so your folks don't notice. I wear sweatpants like Lester had on."
Then, after a quick kiss she was gone, leaving Dennis to look at himself in the mirror behind his bedroom door and wonder: from Dennis to Denise to Baby Denise. She wants me to wear her panties - or diapers. And she thinks guys that suck cock are sexy. What else is she going to come up with?
Seemingly, it didn't matter, as the diapered young man in his bedroom and the image in the mirror were smiling at each other.
More to follow. Comments appreciated. amber_fountaine@hotmail.com