So this is my first contribution to the site as well as the beginning of my first erotic story. It’s a bit rough, so constructive criticism is appreciated. Also, there’s not any sex in this first part, as I like to kind of develop character at least a bit. So if you’re looking for a quick fix, this isn’t the place.
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I guess it all started when the neighbors moved out. I had lived with my family in a suburb town in Central Massachusetts for a little over 12 years. For most of that time my best friends had been Chris and Manny, the neighbor boys. Both were older than I was, but as kids that didn’t seem to matter. We would run around and play as if I was their third brother.
My own two brothers were much, much older. 6 and 10 years older. When I was 7, the elder of the two moved out, having dropped out of high school Sophomore year. Before he went, however, he left a few really great presents for a young kid.
After dropping out, and being too young to work, he found that he had a lot of time on his hands. One day, fed up with his constant lazing about, my mother sarcastically told him to go dig a hole. This was exactly what he did.
Every time I would get home from school (first grade was the only year I attended public school until my junior year of high school. Between those I was homeschooled.) I would hear punk rock floating across the pool and playground area between the back woods and our raised deck.
The outcome was a superb backwoods area. The biggest hole was 10 feet across and 6 feet deep. As a child this was overwhelmingly large. Other holes were also substantial, and had bike jumps over them. My brother also cobbled together some plywood and nails and converted them into a passable multi-level treehouse. It was not much more than three platforms, the bottom one having a rail. These were reached by climbing a knotted rope, or, for those of us who lacked the upper body strength for that, climbing the tree with strategic hand and foot holds.
The next brother closer to me left for the Navy when I was 12. It had always been his dream, and he left straight away after graduation. Sometime between 8 and 12 my sister (12 years older than me) moved out. This left my mother, father and I alone in a house made for six.
As I entered high school my parents decided that the room I had occupied for nearly 10 years was too small for me. I was given the in-law suite downstair where my elder brother and sister used to stay. It was a pretty nice place. It had a full bathroom, its own kitchen, two bedrooms and ample living room space. It was also connected to the garage and had a door to the backyard.
My father received an old pool table from the church we attended, which he set up in the living space downstairs. I used to stay up til all hours of the night playing billiards alone, or occasionally with the neighbors.
Spenser moved in next door the summer before my junior year of high school, when I decided to go back to public school. This was a trying year for me. My brother was deployed to Afghanistan, and my parents decided that the ties holding their marriage together were just not strong enough. As divorces go it was not rough, but being a privileged (if troubled) white boy in a nice house in a good neighborhood, it seemed like the culmination of all my greatest fears.
As if that were not enough, my very best friend from my homeschooling years took his life just before I went back to school in November. Needless to say this complicated things for me.
My father and I stayed in the house made for 6, which now seemed emptier than ever. When, towards the end of the summer, moving trucks appeared at the house next door, I paid them no heed. Depression had me in its grip and was not about to let me go. I had started smoking Lucky Strikes earlier that summer.
I snuck out one night through the back door, Lucky’s and cigarette lighter in hand. My go-to smoking venue was the little swing set beside the fence around the pool. Before I got there, however, I saw a burning point of light coming from the clubhouse of the swing set next door.
Stealthily, I climbed the short ladder. Inside the club house was a vision of an angel that may never fade from my mind. She sat cross legged against the opposite wall, strawberry blonde hair swept over her left shoulder. Her face was tilted upwards, exhaling smoke from pouting, seductive lips. An old ratty hoodie strained to contain a formidable set of breasts, and short cut-off jeans hid the origin point of her smooth, toned legs.
Perhaps the greatest part for me was that she wore no shoes. I don’t have a thing for feet, but I do hate wearing shoes. Going barefoot just feels so freeing. In her delicate hand was a marlboro. This was the only imperfect part of the picture for me. A girl so exquisite should smoke something more exotic and less.. shitty.
“You know,” I said, Lucky Strike hanging from the corner of my mouth, “You should quit that, it’s bad for you.”
Jumping nearly through the roof, she inhaled some of the smoke and coughed violently. I thoroughly enjoyed the effect the coughing fit had on her trapped tits.
“Why should I stop,” she sputtered, “You’re smoking too!”
“I wasn’t talking about smoking in and of itself.” I replied
“So what, then, I should stop sitting in my own back yard?”
“No ma’am, I think you should stop smoking shitty cigarettes.”
The delicate hand holding the cigarette paused, then flicked the Marlboro out the door in a whiplike crack of decisive movement. Then it moved towards me.
“Spenser.” She said. I extended my own hand.
“Alex.”
“It’s a pleasure. Now gimme.” Her eyes were fixed on the pack of Lucky’s in my right hand. Patting a place on the floor next to her, she beckoned me to her side. I was basically powerless to resist. I sat next to her, Lucky still hanging from my lips.
I felt her hand close on mine, and a chill ran down my spine. I could feel a stirring in my pants. She brought her face to mine, and grabbed the tip of my cigarette in her full lips. Grabbing the lighter from my hand, she pulled away just enough to separate the Lucky from my lips. By the light of burnt butane, her green eyes sparkled. She knew the effect she was having on me.
Much to my gratification, however, she was not used to the harsher smoke of unfiltered cigarettes, and she fell into another coughing fit. I couldn’t keep my eyes away from that beat up hoodie.
This fact did not escape her notice. Before I knew it, she had taken the cigarette and pressed the lit end into the side of my wrist. I yelped, and recoiled. She was laughing. I was about to ask her what the hell was wrong with her, when I discovered that she was on my lap. Her hair fell around my face as she leaned over me, a curtain of spun gold. The laughter was still in her eyes as she moved in closer.
Our lips brushed and an urgent desire grabbed me by the throat. In a split second we had gone from a fairly chaste kiss to a passionate affair, as you might see between lovers. I felt her exploring my mouth, and our tongues met, teasing and wrestling.
I couldn’t have said how much time passed, or even how we got there, but I found myself on top of Spenser, between her legs, my stiff, throbbing member aching to escape from my pants. I could feel the heat of her through her shorts, and her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer. My hands quested for her ample chest, and my heart leapt for joy to discover erect nipples beneath the hoodie, unrestricted by any kind of bra.
I began grinding my hips against hers, making small circles on her crotch with mine. Her small moans and squeaks translated as vibrations through our joined lips, growing in volume and frequency.
Our passion was violently interrupted by the squealing of car tires on the street. Spenser sat bolt upright, throwing me off her. I was surprised by her strength. Her cheeks burned red in the moonlight. Disheveled hair and all, I thought I had never seen a more beautiful girl in my life. But she was no girl. No, she was a woman.
This woman gave a sheepish, apologetic grin. Straightening her hoodie and pulling her shorts so they no longer showed the seductive outline of her pussy lips, she said,
“I’m sorry to leave you high and dry, but I really should go.”
“Uh-h-h yeah, no, that’s fine! ” I assured her, although my aching balls protested that this was not the truth.
“So.. we should talk some time.” She said, uncertain. As she said this, she bit lightly on her lower lip and scrunched her eyebrows. I swear to god I nearly blew my load right then and there.
“Talk, yeah. That.. yeah. You.. uh. You’re like.. really beautiful.” I stuttered, then blushed. What an idiotic thing to say. I was an idiot. This was it. She would laugh at me, leave the clubhouse, and we would never speak again.
Instead of the derisive rebuke I expected, she gave a schoolgirl giggle.
“Why thank you,” she laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself..”
I blushed and babbled something about how I had the house to myself the next day and she should come over if she wasn’t doing anything, and she really had to meet my dog he was just the greatest…
My ramblings came to an abrupt halt as I felt her lips on mine once more. Then she was gone, down the short ladder and walking across the lawn to her house.
I immediately sprinted home to rub one out in the bathroom. Even that night in bed I had to fight to keep my mind away from how it would feel to have those full, pouting lips around the engorged head of my swollen dick.
It was gonna be a rough night, but I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.