Scotch by night

‘So, is this the night when you finally tell us the story about the son of a preacher man’, A taunted her.
‘depends’ ,B replied
‘on what?’
‘on you all having had enough to drink so you won’t remember the details. Just the general  outline’
we’ve had enough’, A, C and D said as one.

Clearly this was one they had been waiting for. B knew as much, but this was a moment she had both dreaded and looked forward to.
‘All right’.

He wasn’t really the son of a preacher man, but in my adolescent mind the words of that song and the realities of that summer blended into one. I listened to that song all summer, and now when I hear it, it takes me right back. It even evokes certain smells.

‘back to what? what smells?’
‘Don’t be impatient, A!’

He wasn’t the son of a preacher man, but he lived in the countryside in a small village where we spent a few summers. This summer turned out to be the last, but not as a result of what we did, because that remained secret. In the years before, I had known him or known of him. He was a whole year younger than me which I think contributed to the way things turned out. I felt that being older I was in control, and I have later thought that this fact made me go further than I would have otherwise done.

A looked impatient.

I know what you are thinking. I developed late, I was about 15 the summer in question, and he had gone through puberty during the winter and let’s say it had put him in a new place. We can call him T. 

T was not tall, but strong and … I don’t know how to put it. One you didn’t mess with, one who decided stuff. A leader. And quite disdainful of girls, which is why I didn’t like him. He was a farm boy, I was a pale school girl …

‘even then’, A interjected.
‘Yes, even then. But now it’s my ace of spades’, dear A.

‘so we knew each other and we knew of each other, but there was no love lost, and he would make lewd jokes about girls and generally tell everyone how useless girls were except for one thing’

A was sitting on the edge of her seat, quite literally.

My parents didn’t like him either, and he was the son  – one of three – of our landlord.
Maybe they did find out something and that’s why we never went back. Next year we went to a different, but similar place. That’s odd, isn’t it?

‘so let’s hear it. There is something in the air’, A growled and drained her glass.

We met again on the first day of that summer. He had grown a lot, his voice was that of a man, and he looked me up and down and noticed I had tits. Other than that, he was the same, or so I thought. But he had a volcano in his pants, and one that was prone to erupting.

A, C, and D looked at her with open mouths.
‘How did I know?’
Well he told me on the first day. Nothing if not direct. ‘since last I saw you, now you have tits and hair on your pussy, and I shoot man juice’
I didn’t say anything, since I had no idea what to say. So he went on ‘I can jack off many times a day. Bet you can’t’

I couldn’t, of course, but I had started to touch myself.

The other three women looked at her, trying to remember their own puberty and subsequent journey of self discovery.

Anyway, the next day he cornered me outside the stables and stole a kiss. It was quite a long one, and I liked the feel of his lips and his hot breath. I tore myself free, and he said ‘whore! Now I have to go and jerk off’, and he disappeared into the stables. I looked around. No one. Just the soft sound of horses – they had three – stirring in their boxes.

Something compelled me to follow him. I imagined where he was going, since we had played hide and seek with him and other kids every year, and we knew our way around the buildings. The kissing-box was at the top of the stables above the hay-store, out of sight from the rest of the building. We used to meet and kiss there, or just go there and pretend we were kissing. Most of the time there were no boys around so we girls resorted to kissing each other. It was better than nothing.

And now he was there, and I crept up the ladder and peered over the edge in time to see him ejaculate profusely. He held a magazine in his free hand, but I am not sure he needed it. He heard me of course, and as quick as all that he wriggled over to where I was perched on the ladder, so I couldn’t move fast, and grabbed my wrist hard and pulled me up to the kissing box, with his shorts hanging open and his dripping dick hanging out.

‘I knew you’d be coming’ he said, and that was the frightening thing about him, he had this ruthless power about him. 

‘not nice’, A said.
‘no. Not nice. Neither then nor later. I have met him since. It was awkward, but I have a comeback on him which means his tongue is tied. I have two, actually’

B took a large sip of wine before diving into the thick of it.

He wanted me to touch his dick, and so I did. He wiped some drops of semen off it and touched my mouth and let me taste it. Then he casually lay back and motioned me to lean over and take his cock in my mouth.
‘and you did’, A said matter of factly

‘I did’.

I still remember the feeling of half-limp cock in my mouth. I was a girl and I knew girls did this with boys, so it felt … natural in a way. It would happen to me sooner or later. Why not now?
And I remember it growing hard in my mouth, and the feeling of power that it gave me.
There was no time to bring him to orgasm – his folks were waiting for him. So this first time we met he ran off, and left me to fend for myself. And I did.

B’s friends were silent, as if B had confessed to murder.

This set the pattern in a way. We would meet, I would make him come, and he would bugger off and leave me to sort things out on my own.
‘sounds like a man’

They all laughed at A’s remark.

He was so horny that most times he came really really quickly. He wanted me to use my mouth, so I did. His magazines were full of blow jobs.

‘what about your pussy?’ C wanted to know
I didn’t want him to touch me. I really didn’t. So I never mentioned it. I felt clean that way, detached. This sperm and cum-business was just something that had to do with him, not with me. I was learning sex at his sex school, and he was younger than me, so I was the boss. Or so I thought.

‘strange, most guys love pussy’
He mentioned it once, said he thought pussies looked odd and smelt strange. Once he put his hand in my knickers quite violently and then smelt his hand. You know how it smells. Most guys I have been with love it. One said he would move in if he could. But our friend T here recoiled and we never talked about pussy again. In fact, we did not talk much.

‘did you swallow?’
‘does it matter?’
But yes, I swallowed a lot of semen those two weeks before the denouement. I quite liked it, a feeling of power I think. He expected it, I guess from his mags where girls with heavy makeup were giving blowjobs and swallowing all over the place.

‘so you kept going back to him?’
‘I did’.

There was a brief silence. 

I had some really good orgasms after he came and left me in the hay, on my own with that acrid taste in my mouth.

‘you came he came he left you came…’ A joked and went on:
‘so how did it end?’ Perspicacious and pushy as always.

One day, the last day as you will realize, when we met he wasn’t alone. He had brought two other kids who appeared from behind a wall. He said that here was B, the cocksucker, and she loves sucking and she will blow you. And then he got his dick out and expected me to “do him”. And I did, and he came quickly as he always did, and I swallowed it and I could feel tears of shame.

The room was silent again, like a courtroom waiting for the verdict to be read out.

So his friend, whom I had never seen, pulled out a somewhat smaller and very limp dick which was also a bit smelly, which I was about to find out. And I could have got up and left, but I didn’t. I did what I was expected to do, I took this dick in my mouth and slowly it got hard, but I could sense that this guy, this boy, this child, was petrified, and soon enough he got as limp as before. I looked up and he was scared, ashamed, desperate.

T looked at him scornfully. ‘just bugger off home you useless kid. I’ll keep the 5 quid’

The verdict having been delivered, the courtroom filled with excited banter. 

‘he sold you like a whore’
‘he pimped you out to his friends’

‘He did all of that.’

And that is why when we meet these days, it has happened twice, he avoids me. Because he knows I know he is a pimp. And that’s a lot worse than being a whore. Even a cum-loving one.

They all drank to that.