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From: ddtjb@hunterlink.net.au (**_MOUSE_**)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Story : Katrina - My Confession - conf10.doc [01/01]
Date: Thu, 03 Apr 97 23:53:17 GMT
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From: katrina@mcastl.ieee.org
Subject: My Confession (part 10)
Message-ID: <C4MxMt.8nC@unix.amherst.edu>
X-Moderator-Review: 6: less sex than before but interesting plot twists
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Keywords: mf series teen
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Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 05:23:17 GMT
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Archive-name: confession-10
My Confession (Part Ten)
By Katrina
In the last parts, you remember, I told you that since
"confession is good for you," I'm confessing that I love a big
cock in my ass, and my "adventures" about that, but that I'm
changing all the names of people and of some of the places,
because I don't have the other people's permission to reveal
their part in my story, or to use their names.
I told you how my cousins Dave and Sue, and Marty, Sue's
"summer romance" introduced me to serious sexual activities,
and especially to anal sex. And I told you how I got Bob to be my
boyfriend, and to do my back door. And how good that was!
..until we had that stupid fight in the spring I promised to
tell you about.
We spent the winter months sucking and anally fucking, and it
was wonderful. Except that Bob would sometimes argue with me,
saying he wanted to "do it the regular way," the world looked
rosy.
Spring came, (and so did we... lots) and Easter Vacation, or
as they started calling it, spring break. Somehow we talked our
parents into letting us go to the shore with a group of kids,
with Bob's older brother, Paul, and his girlfriend to
"chaperone." We drove down in the Porsche, while Paul and his
girl went in their own car.
We spent the morning on the beach. It was boring. Paul was a
student at Tech. The two of them talked about classes and stuff
the whole time! Later I found out that they screwed after we left
them, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine them doing
anything but techie stuff together!
Anyway, we got hungry, and Bob found a little place just
across the road from the beach. He had gotten his brother's
I.D. card, and with it he got us beers, and I was a little
smashed.
Bob started to insist that we screw "regular," and I insisted
no.
"But, Kat," he said, "What's the big deal? I love you just
as much now as if we were married... Let's do it now."
"No," I said, "not 'till we are married. No way."
"Shit, Kat, that's crap. You know that we've been A-fucking
since November. Now I want to have normal sex!"
"You egotist," I screamed. "YOU want! What about what I
want? Besides, what's wrong with what we're doing? Are you
saying it's not normal?"
"Shit, Kat, it's kid stuff."
"Kid stuff! You nerd, you can just spend the weekend fucking
your hand!"
It got worse. He called me a slut, and a pervert. He even
called me a cock- teaser, even though I had made him come more
often than you could count, in my mouth and in my ass.
Finally, steamed to the gills, I stormed out of the place. I
decided I was going to walk to the station and take a bus home. I
wasn't going to spend the rest of the weekend with that jerk!
I wasn't half a block from the bar and grill when my bag
spilled all over the sidewalk. I guess I forgot to zip it closed
in my anger. Cursing, I bent over to scoop the stuff up before
the breeze blew my clothes all over the beach. So there I was, my
bathing-suited rear up in the air, scooping clothes, when this
guy came storming out from behind a van parked there, and walked
right into me.
We both tumbled down, and I would have banged my knees up
pretty bad on the sidewalk except they landed on the bag. The guy
landed on top of me. He took his time getting off me.
"Shit, mister," I yelled at the guy, as he picked himself up,
"if you wanna screw me in the ass, at least ask first!"
The guy laughed, and held out his hand to help me up.
"Say," he said, "you scraped your hand pretty bad. And I bet
there's dirt and gravel ground in. You better wash that out."
The guy was good looking, though old, I thought, maybe thirty
or so. He was wearing tight black bathing trunks, an open shirt
and sneakers. He helped me pick up the rest of my stuff.
I said, "Where?" We were standing in front of a store.
"Bar and grill down there has a womens' room."
"I ain't goin' back in there," I said, firmly. "There'll be
one at the bus station."
I picked up my bag and started walking. It was then that I
realized I didn't even know where the bus station was! So I
turned around and asked the guy.
He started to laugh again. "It's a long walk," he said. "Why
don't you wait a minute and I'll give you a lift."
He turned and went into the store. My scraped hand was
starting to sting, so I waited. He came back out carrying two
cases of beer and a paper bag of stuff on top.
"Would you open the door, please?" he asked, nodding at the
van.
I slid the side door open, and he put the stuff in. "Thanks,"
he said, "Now, get in."
"You gonna drink all that yourself?" I asked, slamming the
door.
He lauged again, "No. Got friends coming over." He looked
over at me as he pulled away from the curb, and I guess I was
showing the pain, my hand really was starting to hurt.
"Listen," he said. "My place is on the way. We'll stop there
and fix that hand. It must hurt. The sooner it's cleaned the
better."
He didn't give me any space to argue, and I don't think I
would have, anyway. He turned off the main road and pulled into a
driveway about half a block from the beach. It was a small cabin
with a screened porch front. He got the beer out and asked me to
take the bag and close the van, and he marched to the cabin.
Inside, he put the beer down on a table and took my arm and
steered me to a bathroom. Small but clean, I noticed.
"This may sting," he said, and started washing my hand with
soap. Then he looked at it closely and got out a tweezers.
"Gravel ground in," he muttered and started picking pieces
out. That did sting!
After that he said, "Hold on. I know this'll hurt," and he
poured Peroxide on the scrape. It bubbled and foamed and stung!
"Youch," I hollared.
"Sorry, kid," he said.
Then he wrapped gauze over it and tied it off.
"C'mon," he said, "have a beer. You deserve it."
Back on the porch, he opened two of the cold cans and handed
me one. He took a gulp, then started packing the other cans in a
cooler. I sat down and started drinking the beer.
"Name's Charlie," he says, "what's yours?"
"Kat."
"So, Kat," he says, "How come you're going home; spring break
just started, right?"
I found myself telling him about the fight with Bob, though
not what the fight was about. He listened carefully, sitting down
and drinking the beer, and looking at me. I could tell he liked
what he saw. When I was done, he sat quietly for a minute,
drinking. I sat and looked him over, too. He looked pretty good,
I thought. Trim, no paunch, he looked like an athlete. There was
a good- sized lump in his bathing suit, but I couldn't tell much
else about it.
He asked, "Where's home?"
I told him, and he said, "Son of a gun. I used to live in..."
and he named the next town over. My beer was gone, and I was
thirsty, so I asked if I could have another.
"Sure," he said, "Help youself. I'll call the bus station
and find out when the next bus for home leaves."
He went inside and I saw him looking in the phone book, then
make a call. He came back out and said, "You just missed one, and
the next one isn't until eight o'clock tonight. You may as well
stay here and have some burgers with me and my friends. No sense
wasting the day sitting in the bus station."
Well, I had to agree that I didn't want to waste the day
waiting for a bus, and I was getting hungry since I left Bob
without eating. Charlie seemed nice, so I figured it would be OK,
so I agreed.
"Good," he said. "You can help."
So I helped him get ready for the cookout. The paper bag had
burger patties and buns, and he started a charcoal grill while I
unpacked the food and set it out ready to cook. He had me wash
off the table, and get a stack of paper plates, napkins and such
from the kitchen and stack them on the table.
The charcoal was just getting right when a car pulled in
behind the van and two couples got out. They were also around thirty,
and also looked good. In fact, the women looked great.
Charlie said, "They're here," and opened the screen door for
them.
"Just in time," he told them, "the grill's ready."
One of the men, the dark haired one, looked at me and grinned
broadly, "Well! Who's the new girlfriend, Charlie?"
Charlie laughed and intoduced me, saying, "New friend, but
not girlfriend." I learned that the dark haired man was called
Pete, the woman with him with brown hair and big boobs was Mary,
and the guy in the brown crewcut was called Harry, and his wife's
name was Lana. Lana was a bottle-blonde with an elaborate hair-
do.
We passed out beers and Charlie threw burgers on the grill,
and we talked, or rather mostly they talked and I listened.
Charlie described how we met, and everybody laughed when he told
them what I said. I was mortified! I told them I had been angry
anf upset, and everybody was nice, and the conversation turned to
other things.
It seems Charlie was recently divorced, and these people all
thought his "ex" was a real bitch, and he was better off with her
gone. I gathered that Charlie didn't have a girlfriend. Harry
kept sneaking looks at me, I noticed. Charlie's friends asked me
some questions, but I evaded most of them. I told them one lie;
that I was nineteen. I was afraid if they knew I was just
fifteen, they would treat me like a kid. I looked older than I
was anyway, and they seemed to believe me.
I ate some burger and drank a lot of beer. I was a little
fuzzy when his friends left, saying they had to go clean up the
cabin they had rented before it got too dark.
I helped Charlie clean up, and drank another beer while he
carried the garbage out. When he came back in, he went into the
house, came back with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He put
ice from the cooler in the glasses and poured himself one. He
raised the empty glass toward me and raised his eyebrows. I
nodded yes. Charlie poured some for me. He pulled his chair
closer to mine and sat back down opposite me and just looked me
up and down.
I was so afraid I would choke on the scotch and look like a
little kid, but I took a tiny sip and discovered that I liked it,
despite that it took my breath away. Of course, it didn't help my
being sober at all!
Charlie leaned forward, took my hand and said, "How's the
scrape?"
"What? Oh. I hardly feel it," I said.
He didn't let go of my hand, though, and neither did I. His
hand was cool from the glass, but there was a warmth beneath, and
a gentle strength in it that really turned me on. I lowered my
eyes and looked at his crotch. He was getting hard!
I decided, then, that I wanted him, older man or not. I got
up off my chair, still holding the drink in one hand and his hand
in the other, and turned and sat in his lap.
"Charlie," I said, "I had a won'erful af'ernoon. I like you."
"I like you, too, Kat."
I grinned and wiggled against him. "I could tell."
He blushed! But he took a gulp of his scotch, then put his
drink down, then took mine and put it down, too, and put his arms
around me and kissed me. This guy could kiss! Just kissing, I got
so wet, I was afraid it would soak through my suit! I put my arms
around his neck and held him.
When we parted, I snuggled my face against his neck and ran
my fingers through the hair on his chest. He wasn't very hairy,
like some gorilla, just a light set of brown curls over what
would be his tits. I liked the way they felt, how his firm
muscles felt. And speaking of "muscles," his hard-on was trying
to burst his suit and poke into my hip!
"Um... it's seven o'clock, Kat."
"So?" I said. I was buzzed, I was getting horny, I liked
Charlie, and I didn't want to go.
"I gotta take you to the bus, remember? It leaves at eight."
"You don't gotta," I said. "Do you wanna take me to the bus?"
He looked at me for a long moment and said, "No."
"I mean," I said in a low voice, "I was going to be down here
for a week, it's silly to leave after just one day. I can catch a
bus tomorrow... or whenever."
He grinned and raised his glass in salute, "Carpe diem," he
said.
---- to be continued ----
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**_MOUSE_**
"Remember the Lion"
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