Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: rec.arts.erotica immoderation Lines: 628 Message-ID: 34q6h7$28t@amhux3.amherst.edu NNTP-Posting-Host: amhux3.amherst.edu Keywords: mf mm group mild dom teen X-Moderator-Review: 8: moves too fast in places, but very thoughtful
Archive-name: totem-pole
Totem Pole (c) Opuntia 1994 but electronic distribution for private use is ok
A bit long, but it pays off I think. Enjoy. -Opuntia
Totem Pole
I guess when I was in high school I was pretty high on the social totem pole. Not at the very top, but up there. I was one of the few underclassmen to get invited to senior parties, anyway. The senior guys seemed to regard me as "cool" or something.
It could have been that they were even a little afraid of me. I remember really clearly a moment I was talking with some of them in the hall, and realized that they were trying to impress me. What was this? They were so huge and masterful, rulers of the world. They went on dates. They drove cars. But now they needed me more than I needed them!
I kept nodding and acting wowed by whatever they were saying, but the world was turning inside out and I was the only one who could see it. Their talk became a babble, and suddenly I saw them pitifully, like sick animals with pink and bleating guts exposed. I became completely aware of other things going on far up and down the long hall: the laughter of my friends, the squeals of some little kids I hated, the worried gossip of some ones I watched out for...
A babbler was staring at me, perturbed. He had seen something had changed. It was like we both knew right then that I had more spirit than him, that I had, in fact, already eclipsed him somehow. I felt heady and powerful for a second. Then I walked away and was overtaken by the weight of something huge and brooding.
Anyway, I don't think I respected them after that. I definitely didn't trust them. I'd rather hang with the guys in my class any day. They were solid; they were pure.
The senior girls were a different story. I was in an arty clique, and I think they saw me as "intense" or "interesting". They always tried to get me drunk and engage me in these sophisticated discussions, and I was into it. They drank mysterious-sounding stuff like "brandy" and talked about books I thought only I had read.
Even though they were just one or two years older, they were so unlike the girls my age. Their voices weren't thin and whiny. They didn't giggle. They weren't awkward in their bodies. And they seemed to just know things. I had a feeling that when they walked down the hall, they knew that all the boys were watching their tits and asses, and they didn't really care...
It sounds dumb now, but I was flattered just to be in their presence. I never would have come on to them -- it just wasn't my place to do so. Though it's not like the idea wasn't on my mind. I guess there were a lot of times I would leave from hanging out with them, feeling all cool and confident, and sneak into my girlfriend's window and fool around with her. It was so innocent then; sex was gentle vista we were exploring. No, better yet, it was like this amazing new sport I was just gonna keep getting better and better at. It didn't occur to me that it could have meant anything she was one year younger than me. It was really a pretty rigid social structure and I didn't even realize it.
The only hint I remember getting that they even thought that way about me was from this quiet, intense senior named Lynnette. Once she called me up and asked me to go to see Rocky Horror with her. I was excited -- it was kind of an honor then, to go see this cool movie at midnight with seniors. Then I felt weird when I realized we weren't going with anybody else.
What was up with her anyhow? A lot of the time she seemed like a total square. She would actually leave parties early so she could read or go to sleep. She looked like a librarian, with her funny short hair and body hidden beneath dumpy old clothes. But she hung out with some of the coolest girls in school. And the one time we had really talked she had said some of the darkest, strangest things I had ever heard.
When she laughed, something in her eyes would dance. You got the feeling she was laughing 'cause she had seen it all before, like she was some potent old witch finding life again in a young girl's body -- yet who could never quite forget her bitter past.
When she picked me up I could tell that she had made an effort to look nice. For her, she had dressed up pretty funky. She still looked like a librarian, really, but she had tried. The dress she wore showed something of her chest and legs for once.
I noticed how broad and graceful her shoulders were. The way her neck curved into her shoulders was elegant, like those tall strong African women in National Geographic. I imagined her breasts pointing up the way theirs did. Her whole body was like that: broad, but thin and graceful.
She was dressed up like this was a date.
That was impossible, 'cause she was a senior. Wasn't it? But I wanted her now, I wanted to expose those breasts and thighs. What would I do after that? I had no idea. She was so different from my girlfriend.
But when we started talking, she seemed really down about something, so I figured maybe she just wanted someone to talk to. After the movie we stayed up at the diner talking about whatever. When she dropped me off, she seemed happier.
Then they all went away to college and I became one of the seniors. The older kids faded into legend. In a way they became even bigger, these ghostly presences that everybody would invoke and try to associate themselves with. When they came home on breaks it was hard to see them because they had so many people to catch up with. So I knew something was up when one Christmas break, Lynnette called me up and asked me to go "out for a drink."
I tried to be all casual, like sure, that'd be cool. But I was excited. I'd been drinking for years, but the way teenagers do, in dark parking lots and sweaty keg parties. I had never been asked "out for a drink" before. What happened when you went "out for a drink" with somebody? I honestly had no idea.
And wasn't that something people did to pick each other up?
When that thought struck me my throat dried up. What did she want? I had to concentrate to act surly for my parents.
In the bar our fake id's passed and she ordered the kind of drinks my parents drank -- little brown ones that tasted like poison. For once in my life I enjoyed it. It was smooth poison. She was talking a lot about college and how wild life in her dorm was, with all these drugs and blatant sex. I was listening and trying to act cool, like yeah, that's the kind of stuff I do every day. But I was amazed.
I had thought I was pretty wild. Now this square was doing all these drugs and sleeping with all these people. And why was she telling me all this? Did she know she was making me horny? On the way in to the bar, I had admired the shape of her ass in her tight jeans. Now I kept looking at her chest and she didn't seem to care. In fact, she'd pause and lean in towards me, looking me right in the eyes, before she told me the wildest parts. It was almost like she was inviting me to have a better look.
I could almost see her nipples. She was wearing a vest with no shirt underneath. Her necklace of hippie beads dangled down into her cleavage, and the beads flashed and jumped in the candlelight with her slightest motions, as if they were wild red and black tongues that she had charmed into forever licking and teasing. I thought, whoa, she has changed.
I decided this was all too much.
Older girls never came on to me. So Lynnette was just waving these wild stories in front of my face for some bitchy reason I couldn't comprehend, and wasn't really interested in me. What, was it my job to be impressed with her, like those stupid older guys wanted me to?
At that point I think she noticed something had changed. When we drove home I asked her to drop me off at my friend's house. I wanted to be with someone that wasn't gonna treat me like an inferior.
I was about to get out of the car and we were saying call me sometime, yeah, yeah, when she grabbed my hand.
"No, I do wanna see you again," she said.
Her thumb was sitting in the middle of my palm. I looked at it and realized my body had gone absolutely still.
The thumb was moving -- pressing gently and making little circles. I had never been so hypnotized by any touch anywhere. My eyes were fixed, but swinging in and out of my vision were those fiery red and black beads...
I realized vaguely that for the first time in my life, I was being seduced. My cock was straining against my jeans.
"What are you doing tonight?" she said directly.
"Um, nothing." I tried to be proud.
"My parents are gone skiing. Why don't you come over?"
Then she leaned over and stuck her tongue in my mouth. It was strong and warm. My eyelids closed involuntarily. I got lost in the movement of her tongue inside of my mouth, the way it tasted like water... she knew what she was doing.
After a dazed, amazed while I managed to assent.
"All right," I said.
I felt her neatly and precisely stop. What's up now? I wondered. My eyes opened.
There she was, hands back on the steering wheel, looking at me like, well, aren't you getting out of the car?
"Okay, see you then," she said curtly.
She was being a tease! What a bitch! I got out of the car.
So she did wanna fuck around with me. I resolved she was gonna get fucked good tonight. She thought I was some little innocent virgin boy and she was gonna show me the ropes. Some women were into that, right? She didn't know I had been sneaking into my girlfriend's bed every midnight for a year; she didn't know how much I had learned about where to bite, where to put my fingers, how to wiggle my tongue. I could make my girlfriend wet with a single touch. I could lick her pussy until she was shaking and totally beyond control. Lynnette wasn't gonna treat me like her little virgin.
When I got there she was cool, like nothing was going on. We had some random conversation over some drink. My bullshit sentences kept trailing off in anticipation of what I was there for, and she'd laugh in that way that said she knew exactly what she wanted, and expected me to follow her plan to get it.
I was getting tired of the whole game when she stuck that amazing tongue in my mouth again. We got down on the living room carpet in the midst of all this bourgeois furniture and made out, stroking each other through our clothes. I loved it. My hands checked out every part I was gonna be master of in a few minutes -- her sweet curved ass held in tight by her jeans, the breasts she had flaunted in the bar, the neck I had admired a whole year ago...
My lips were sliding down her neck when she spoke up.
"Whoa, slow down! We've got all night..." She laughed at me. It was exactly the way you'd say that to a little boy.
Thing was, I was being slow.
"You can kiss me there now." She pointed to a spot higher on her neck.
She expected me to follow her orders! I was so angry I rolled my eyes.
But I did it.
I kissed her there. I knew how to do it good. I bit very lightly and watched the goose bumps ripple all over, just like I knew they would. She wasn't that different from my girlfriend. I heard her moan, and moved down towards her chest.
"Did I say you could go there? Do that again."
What a bitch! I don't know why I did it again. She liked it.
"You can kiss me there now," she said, pointing to a spot about a centimeter lower. I told myself this was boring. I told myself it was stupid. But I did it. As she shivered with pleasure, I watched her beads rolling down into the space between her breasts and was jealous of them.
I knew I was gonna have to do what she told me, so I just did. Every time it seemed like she was losing control and I tried to take over she'd direct me again. My blood was boiling but my cock was harder than it ever was for my girlfriend. I hate to admit it, but I was grateful when she finally exposed her breasts and let me get lost in them. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Finally our clothes were off, her legs were splayed wide open, and her cunt was right under my face, its lips all fat and slick. I was regaining my composure. She was helpless, and I knew what I was doing now.
I teased her clit with the tip of my tongue and started a slow rhythm. I wasn't going to break it. When her mound started to push up and down to try to get more, I wouldn't let her have it. I took her ass in my hands so I could better control what was going on. When I started fucking her with my tongue, she moaned so slutty, I just had to start rubbing my cock against the floor. Her pussy juice started dripping onto the fancy oriental rug and that turned me on more. Finally I went back to her clit and licked until her body buckled and wouldn't stop shaking.
I scrambled up to her face knowing I had pleased her.
"I bet you wanna fuck me now," she said, still weak and sensitive from the orgasm. I smiled and kissed her tenderly; She sounded so soft compared to before. So I was surprised when, then, she managed to give me a look that was the exact equivalent of her laugh.
"I bet you wanna fuck me now, don't you..." I could almost hear her finish the sentence "...little boy," and it made me furious.
She rolled over on her side so her ass was right there in front of my chest. There were her gorgeous hips offered up, pussy lips sticking out and so close and wet I could still smell them. Oh, yes, I did want to fuck her. I started moving up to do it.
"Well you can't," she said solidly. "Not yet."
I almost exploded. This woman was too much of a tease to be worth it. I started thinking of a way to get out of it. Then she laughed again.
"But you were good. You deserve something," she said, eyes dancing.
She leapt up laughing and wrapped her lips around my cock. I couldn't believe it as I watched the entire thing disappear down her throat. My girlfriend could never do that. Lynnette was so sure of what she was doing. I felt her beads fall down cool and smooth around the base of my cock as she worked on me. I came quicker than I ever had from my girlfriend's cute little mouth.
We left the bourgeois living room smelling of sex. I loved that -- desecrating that room. Sex was truth and this room was full of suburban lies. Parents could never imagine what went on when they were gone.
In the shower she teased me, rubbing her ass against my cock, but I played along with it this time. I knew I was gonna get some soon. When she walked out of the bathroom and left me there drying myself off with her parent's towels, I thought about how the evening was finally going the way I wanted it.
When I walked into the bedroom there was another guy standing there naked, cock stiff, leaning against the wall.
Lynnette sat on the bed looking at me matter-of-factly.
"Uh, Lynnette, I don't know what's going on, but--" I started.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?" Her eyes were laughing at me.
"If you want to fuck me you're going to have to take care of your friend," she continued.
I realized he was somebody I knew from a long time ago. A few years ago we had been on the same soccer team. He had been one of the slow, clumsy ones, relegated to stare from the sidelines until one of the starters needed a rest. But then he started going to a different school.
He looked different now, thin and taut. Embarrassed and scared as hell, but in really good shape. He wasn't soft, getting a beer belly already like some of the seniors were. His name was Kevin.
Oh, my God. How did she know? How did she know this was going to turn me on? I had never told anyone I had even thought about it.
I looked at her, amazed. When she smiled I could hear her crazy, wise laugh again, like she was 10,000 years old and knew everything.
She was going back to college... He was from another school... I knew somehow that I could trust them anyway...
"If you ever- tell- anyone..." I sputtered.
She shook her head solemnly then smiled again. She was still wearing those sexy fucking beads.
When I went to touch him he was solid and smooth, just like I imagined another boy's body would be. Our cocks rubbed together as I ran my hands over his chest. It was like coming home. I knew exactly how to kiss his body. When I took his cock in my mouth, I had never felt anything so warm or alive.
Lynnette sat on the edge of the bed, eyes and mouth wide open like she was 10 years old and watching the best circus act ever. She was still except for the motion of her hand between her legs. I could hear the squishing of her pussy as she rubbed and fucked herself.
She started encouraging us, telling us we were sexy and she didn't care what we did; she just wanted to see us come. Kevin was starting to tremble. He was so nervous, and he wanted to come so bad. I struggled not to gag or bite him as he impulsively pushed deeper into my throat. I knew he couldn't help it.
Then everything was happening at once. Kevin's cock was throbbing, Lynnette was crying out something and shaking on the bed, and hot sperm was squirting into my mouth. I had to struggle to drink it all. As it slid down my throat I wanted more.
Then I was kneeling in front of some guy's body in a house I had hardly ever been in before, unable to look at anyone or believe what I had done. The whole world was turning upside down again.
Lynnette led me over to the bed and kept saying, "oh, you are so good," and shaking her head like she couldn't believe her fortune. She kissed me and told me and Kevin we deserved something.
I forgot my existential crisis as she rolled around on the bed stretching and showing us her body, telling us we were so good we deserved something special.
Finally she said, "okay, you can fuck me now."
And she let us both fuck her. She lay down on her side and let me fuck her from behind while she took the head of Kevin's cock in her mouth. When I pumped her good she would shake and Kevin's cock would slip out of her mouth. It would rub wet and shiny over her face for a few seconds, then she'd take it back in. We were fucking her back and front, mouth and cunt. This earth mother with her hips wide was accepting us all.
When I started pumping her really hard she couldn't hold it in her mouth any more and just lay back and moaned. She told Kevin to rub it on her face.
Then she started talking wildly about how when we came, she wanted us to rub our come into her. I couldn't believe it. She started pleading and begging us: come on me, rub it into me, I need it. An hour ago she had practically been making me beg her! I had never been so turned on by anything. When I saw her gasp and lick as Kevin started coming on her face, I couldn't stand it any more. I pulled out and came all over her ass and the outside of her pussy.
She lay there shaking and running her hands all over her body, mixing me and Kevin's sperm together and rubbing it into her nipples and pussy. She even touched her beads with it, and they got all shiny and seemed to glint in the light. She was enraptured by it, like it was some kind of magic potion that was going to bless her and protect her from evil.
I had never felt so accepted.
She told us we should lick it all over her body, that if we did she'd let us fuck her all night. We did it and we fucked her all night.
It got to be like 5 am and me and Kevin had to get home before our parents woke up. We agreed we'd never tell anyone about this. I guess I'm breaking my promise now.
I was totally amazed for a few days. I think my mom could tell something had changed in me. She looked at me and her eyes creased in a funny way.
I called Lynnette and she was nice, but cool to me, busy with stuff. She went back to college a few days later and I never heard of her again.
It wasn't 'til years later that I realized that there was this one underclass girl who I used to show favors to. She was "intense" and "interesting." I didn't mind that she'd follow me around, that she'd try to stay with me up all night, later than anybody else, or come see me after school when my parents were at work. I knew she was trying to get me alone, have me to herself. I didn't mind; in fact I kind of liked it. She looked up to me. And she never expected anything.
Sometimes I wish I would have done to her what Lynnette did to me. I realize now I could have done it. I could have come back from college for the summer, after she had waited all year to see me, and turned her from a bratty little sister into my dark little lover. If I had teased her and told her what to do, she would have been offended. But her little pussy would have quivered.
Maybe I did do it to her. It's almost like I remember it that way now. I pulled her body towards me... I knew even then that she was waiting for that. She wanted to feel what it was like to climb into my arms and press our bodies together, so I let her.
I let her get lost in the smell of my chest, and when she murmured I felt that small vibration in my entire body.
I told her she could unbutton my shirt, and taught her how to kiss my nipples. She did it so nervously! I realized she had always tried so much to please me, and I had hardly noticed. Now it made me so hard, to feel her anxious mouth while I breathed in the smell of her hair; to watch her ass, the one she always hid beneath baggy boy's clothes, now curved and female as she bent and the fabric stretched tight.
When she started to kiss lower, I told her she couldn't -- unless she took off her shirt. She got flustered and confused, and I told her very plainly she couldn't kiss me any more unless her shirt was off. She stared at me, eyes blazing, and then did it. I felt her breasts sliding on my stomach, nipples hardening, as she climbed back onto me.
I knew it wasn't the first time she had done this. She had had a little boyfriend all year. But no one had ever made her wait like this.
I knew she would put up with it. The letters she sent me at college were so secret and intense, I had a feeling she had written them feverishly, in the middle of the night, by flashlight under the covers. And she hadn't fallen asleep until she had rubbed herself to exhaustion with her little fingers and the tube of smooth, cool plastic.
When she started to unbutton my jeans, I told her she couldn't -- first she'd have to rub her face against the bulge and beg me. She was so shocked and angry her mouth dropped open. Why was I being such a jerk? Then she started rubbing her face against me in desperation. She didn't beg loud enough, and I told her I couldn't hear her. I made her so angry and horny the crotch of her pants was all stained by the time she took them off.
When her lips finally got to my cock, I was ever so patient. I watched her and stroked her wild hair. I didn't try to push it in farther than she wanted it. I watched her ass move as her head bobbed up and down, and thought about how, soon, my cock would be moving in her little pussy, and I'd be hearing her cry out.
I told her if she sucked me good I'd give her something.
That made make her little mouth start moving up and down faster! I told her more -- if she sucked me good, I'd touch her little pussy. If she sucked me good, I'd slide my cock between the cheeks of her ass. By the time I said I'd take her up to my room, she was fucking her own mouth with my cock, frantic to make me come. She was so excited by the idea of going up to my room...
When my sperm was in her mouth, I gathered her up to me and told her she was good. It made her so happy to hear that. I told her she'd been so good I was gonna take care of her, just for today.
I put her on her side and got behind her. I whispered things in her ears and reached around to caress her breasts and her stomach. I tweaked her nipples slowly and turned her head up to me so I could put my tongue in her mouth. Finally I dipped my fingers into her pussy and pushed and stroked so gently; I would never hurt her. When she came, her shaking made my cock grow hard against her ass.
Then I took her to my room and made love to her. I didn't mind when she hung on to me for hours and days afterwards.
Could I have taken her so far she would have licked a little friend's pussy? Maybe if I played it right. I could have teased her about her secret desires, told her she could do anything with me and I wouldn't tell. I could have withheld my cock and made her desperate until she did more and more outrageous things.
But I wouldn't have thought of it then, a question like, how do you play things to get people to do stuff? Even stuff they really want to do? It would have seemed insane. Back then I would have thought, don't people always just do exactly what they want?
I used to think that love was a fire that could never burn out. I had no idea the fire could turn bit by bit into a fire-fight, a feud that would flash in the night and then lay down secret, soft and glowing. Wounds would heal and suspicion would fade, and then the night would flare up again, repeating until everything that mattered was dead and everything else was black and weightless, like burned wood.
Then I thought love was endless patience and imagination. Like someone who's stranded themselves on a beautiful, magical island in the middle of a lake. There's never any reason to leave. Soon the island's vistas run out, but with devotion they find new wonder inside every grain of sand, and ignore the beckoning of the mysterious lands all around them. Then one day they jump in the water and swim away.
Now I don't know what love is.
- 30 -
with inspiration from deirdre (an65862) and dazed and confused -- Moderator, rec.arts.erotica. Submissions to erotica@unix.amherst.edu. Please, no reposts, first drafts, or requests for "subscriptions," stories, GIFs, or archive sites.