("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Band Camp 1984 by Jabber (taboop@centurytel.net) *** Preparing for the coming marching season, our high school band spent a week of "Band Camp" at a nearby university. This summer one trumpet player practices more than just the music. (Please excuse the elongated "Oohs" and "Aahs" of yesterday's "Little Brother at the University". Although that was how my 11 year old mind saw those events.) Similar expressions might follow in "Band Camp"... This is how my 15 year old mind saw things at the time. Oh, yeah! It also jumps between past, present and retrospective points of view. This is done purposely. It reads nicer/livelier this way. (F/m- teen, ped, rom) *** INTRODUCTION While at band camp each summer it is our duty, the members of the school's Marching 'Sexons' from 'Wastings High' (west Michigan), to learn as much of the new music and as many of the formations of the up - coming marching season as possible. As well as to practice this music and the choreography of these formations-- 'Til we are blue in the face! (So to speak.) This summer, the summer of 1984, we are still holding our "Band Camp" at a mid -Michigan University. This school is located in a small town so full of bubbling college youths that it affectionately came to be known as Mt. 'Happy' years before. THAT MORNING One morning (Wed, or more likely Thurs, I think it was) I was separated from all my friends and fellow band members. While away like that, I merely wandered aimlessly through the dormitory, the "Towers" as it was known, where our band was housed. While residing there, the rules were pretty clear for each of us: All the girls stayed to their assigned floor as, similarly, each of us boys were to stay on ours. And... we were never to go from one floor to the other! Although, away from my friends that day, I roamed all about the large dormitory. I was sort of "exploring" that big, new world of college -life... From one floor to the next and one section to another. It was on one of the lowest floors (those halls which housed many of the offices for that dorm as well as other resources of that sector of campus) where I became lost, so to speak, as I strolled along. Lost in all the silence of those long, dark hallways... They were both cool and dim, so quiet and peaceful. Yet, as I turned into one hall (Towers, East), where I had experienced another wonderful adventure seven or eight floors above years before (See Little Brother at the University) I heard a particular noise in the distance. While I continued along, the racket steadily grew and grew. Finally, at a particular door, I located the source of that clatter: Stepping past the opened office, I glanced in to see the cause of all the "Tap- tap, tappity-tap", which I was hearing... THAT YOUNG WOMAN Looking in: I saw the most beautiful young woman ever! ...working rather attentively at a typewriter. The morning sun beamed in from a window just behind her: Her hair was a rich sparkle of light or sandy brown because of. The warm pink of her cheeks glowed toward me. As did those finely silhouetted lines of ivory from her tiny ear, about her gentle neck, then toward her petite shoulder... Her every feature shined brightly. Her slender thighs-- Those small, rounded knees-- Her delicate, beautifully shaped calves-- All the way to her petite ankles... They glistened in the rich, or fair stockings which she wore. She, and everything about her, very literally, appeared to glow. Those shapely legs of hers especially: They seemed as if brilliant -gold in the luminescence of the rising sun. She was seated just behind a small table. I could see her skirt raised slightly above her knee, her smooth calf to the tan, mid -length heels which she also wore. (If I recall the color correctly.) She was sooo beautiful! Everything about that sweet woman glowed with her loveliness. Even though, considering her present setting, she did still appear very proper and especially business -like. MY ACTIONS/ REACTIONS I stumbled past that doorway with 'all the wind blown out of me', so to speak. I fell back against the nearby wall as my hand rose toward the center of my chest. I could feel my heart beating at an extraordinary rate, as well as how my lungs fought to simply draw another breath. Oh, myyy God! This woman is beautiful! Was about the only excited thought whirling through my mind which I could place words to. "Oh God. What should I do?" I asked myself silently. After little, if any thought though-- Well, I've gotta speak to this girl! was my quick, or perhaps reckless, decision. Still supported by the brick wall behind me though, I waited... Only so briefly, of course! I paused just long enough for my heart to barely steady itself, as well as for my lungs to draw several deep breaths. My mind continued to spin with such erratic thoughts and /or erotic lusts as I turned toward that office. Standing in the cool, dim and lonely hallway my feet were spread wide for stability's sake. Although I hoped to steady myself further while my thoughts spun onward. My mind was still engulfed in such confusion. Before I finally took that one, last and deepest breath... I walked back. I turned and I stepped in. THE OFFICE Her desk, the table at which she sets, is just ahead of me. After several small paces further, there is a closed door upon my left before the office expands in that direction, presenting three or four small chairs. I turn toward them... Very calmly and most properly, I seat myself casually upon one of these vinyl chairs. I'm just across from her type -site now, in this small cool office. There I sat: Wearing a Lacosta "Izod" polo shirt. Short shorts. A pair of "docksiders" on my feet. And likely smelling of a cross between-- Polo men's cologne, sweat and Marlboro cigarettes! That lovely, young woman (I estimated to be in her early twenties, or so...) didn't look immediately from her type writer, as I imagined she would. Although... I can't help but to estimate she must have lifted one eye, at least. My breaths were quick and very shallow. My heart continued to race like it had since I first saw her and my mind was as confused as ever because of those (seemingly) rash actions of mine. My mind is spinning with so many crazed thoughts. The questions which revolve are relatively simple, although I have no answers for any of them... "What am I doing? What will I do? What should I do?"... My knees tremble! I contemplate: "What will she do? How might she react? How have I distracted her duties? How offended will she be because of my distraction?" I ask myself all these questions and others, before I must remind myself again-- "Breath!" All the while I imagine my face probably sets rather expressionless though. Yet, underlying each of these chaotic queries within me still rests that 'One'... sometimes the largest of questions which any young man may ever ask himself: "What's my first line...?" "Tappity -tap -tap. Tappity -tap," her fingers continue to diligently work those keys. Although the moment of truth finally arrives: "Ka-chin-n-n-ng!" her little typewriter chimes. She replaces the roller with a quick wave of her left hand, "Z-z-z-ip!" before her pretty eyes rise as she looks up to acknowledge me. With one of the most pleasant smiles ever, her head tips lightly from one side to the other and her eyelashes flutter as she greets me: "Yes. May I help you?" Her pleasant words startle me. They ring out with the sweetest resonance. My mind continues to spin. Although the reverberation of her so delicate, yet very professional, tone helps to break me from this swirling plunge. My face rises partly too. Lifting my chin slightly, I softly shake my head as I respond as straightforwardly and as simply, as I think I ever can. "Oh, no... No, thank you," I tell the pretty young woman in my own 'most proper' or business -like tone. After only a partial breath though, I very hastily explain my presence and actions as frankly as possible to avoid any complications. (As well as, I guess I'm hoping to bring a smile or possibly even a laugh...) "I'm just looking..." I continue with a smile as my eyebrows rise and I shrug my shoulders while my head tips slightly toward my right shoulder so casually as hers just had. It probably shakes lightly, as well. "Thank you, anyway," I tell her with my eyes wide and what I estimate to be a very composed look upon my face. "Oh, okay," the beautiful woman replies rather indifferently, still in the sweetest of tones. With another brief flutter of those lovely lashes she promptly turns back toward her work. "Tappity -tap - tap...." the little machine begins to clatter. Although, it isn't even through the next line before she pauses with a light chuckle. Her face rises slowly as she looks unto mine with all her beauties and this (apparently) shy innocence of hers still beaming forth. "Look, is there anything--" she starts as her pretty lips begin to spread toward a smile, but I interrupt. "No... seriously," I assure her, before I begin to explain. "I was just walking by when I turned to look in and saw the most beautiful pair of legs I've ever seen!..." I tell her very frankly while I feel my cheeks rising with the beginning of my own smile. (I can't hold it back any longer.) "So-- I thought I'd just come in an' check it out close up," I continue while this silly smile of mine spreads. Her blue /gray, or more likely light, sandy /brown eyes open wide while her face shows such shock just before she lets out her first, so relieving, burst of laughter. "O -o -o -oh! Ho -ho -ho -o -o -o!" she laughs happily. Her head shakes slightly, as she does. I release a deep breath as so many of my tensions arise and leave me... Oh, my God! Am I lucky, I think as my chuckles join hers. She giggles with such a sweet, feminine tone which, when backed up by my own deeper, more masculine one... We proceed to create a rather divine harmony! Our laughter makes a fine duet. Filling all the room with this most beautiful music of happiness. As our musical cheer gradually softens though, I explain-- Who I am, Why I'm here, and How I came to be in her office this morning. She seems rather agreeable to my conversation, to its humor, even to my appearance (I assume) ...and she doesn't seem annoyed at all by my presence. Her name was Tracey "Somethinski" (I'm so sorry that I can't recall clearly any longer.) She was 22 years of age and just beginning her sophomore year at that Mt. 'Happy' university. (Just as I was beginning my sophomore year at 'Wastings' High.) Our following words are unclear, as well. Although, our laughter only continued. When I raise my hand and motion toward the furthest door in there and ask about "The Big Guy", she explains very simply. Something, to the effect of 'He isn't here today.' Then, one thing leads to another... Like I said-- It isn't all that clear any longer. But those things lead to others. Which these then lead us to still others, and so on... (You know how it goes.) It actually doesn't seem all that long though, possibly 10 to 15 or 15 to 20 minutes before we are connected in the wash room of this small office! THE WASHROOM I don't recall exactly what I did or what she did. Or even, what she or I might have said or done which led us both there. But, there we were! She, or I... either of us, had apparently made that first move though. We begin to softly kiss and are soon holding one another closely. Between such kisses, we also start to gently fondle one another. We lean ourselves against the counter top for support while we continue kissing or 'necking' in here. Wrapped safely in my arms I lay her back partially over the counter. We speak softly between our kisses. Possibly, still attempting to explain these happenings, even to ourselves, as we gradually begin to undress one another. Her blouse and possibly even her brazier as well (If I recall...) are opened. My hands softly stroke all about her down -like skin. They gently pulse upon her shoulders, her sides and the low of her back. She is so tender and so very delicate. She's rather dainty, too. A petite woman. My shirt is also removed within moments. It's merely discarded, rather carelessly, to the floor. Or something like that. Each of us 'steps - out' of our shoes, as well. An incredible burst of energy enlivens all my senses when I first feel the lush texture of her smooth thigh, though. This thigh, her luscious calf and her delicate knee rise slowly along my leg toward my hip. Our pulsing bodies steadily become moistened with our increased perspiration. There's sweat beginning to 'pool' above my brow and my body is growing damp all over because of our heated foreplay. I stumble with the clasp of Tracey's skirt while we kiss so passionately. Once opened however, my hands softly stroke over and all about her waist, her back and her tiny buttocks while my head whirls! Her soft hands and little fingers are just beginning to open, or reach into my shorts though, when my thoughts do eventually return to my scheduled responsibilities of the day... RESPONSIBILITIES "Oh, God!" I called out softly, very excitedly. I asked "What time is it Tracey?!" "Well Jeff, it's 9 something Am," she told me calmly and quietly. "Oh, no!" I gasped, more excitedly than just before. "I've gotta be to practice in (what was probably) 5 -10 minutes!" I struggled to continue kissing her as I attempted to fondle her luscious anatomy just as sensually as before... while I also pulled my shirt on, straightened my shorts and grabbed my shoes from the floor of that dim washroom. I held Tracey so warmly and very lovingly in my arms as we exchanged (what I believed to be) our 'final' kisses. I probably apologized for having to "run off" on her like that, too... Then it's likely I would have wished her a "Good day". But, while continuing to adjust my clothing, I turned and proceeded to run the heck out of that office. (It's difficult to believe, isn't it? ...That I could ever have been so-o-o stu-u-u-pid!) While I ran down the hall I struggled to slip my loafers on as I went. Tracey, rather gleefully as I recall, in her pleasant tone of laughter called after me "Jeffre-e-ey! Ha-ha- ha! What roo-oom-m-m are you in-n-n?!" My head turned partly over my shoulder as I replied. Indicating both the floor and then the room number. (Although, these numbers as well are now long forgotten.) My mind and spirits spun exuberantly while I raced down the hall. Earlier, just another dimmed corridor. But by then it shined brightly! So many vibrant sounds, stirring colors and crazed sensations bombarded my senses. They flooded my consciousness as I ran from her. She was the sweetest, most luscious woman I had ever known. (Although, even after dating older girls since I was younger, I should specify that she was the only true woman which I'd ever known. Well, at least the only one who was playing with the laws of the land by taking me into her arms like that!) My body trembled in weakness, tension and over - exertion while I ran out of that building and sprinted across the small, grassy park there. I had to run across a couple of streets and down a sidewalk to finally reach the particular building which housed the music hall and our practice area. My feet, in those loose fitting boat shoes, slapped hard to the floor, the grass, the pavement and then to the cement which I traveled over. Although I never heard one "clap!" of my shoes to the ground or any of the corresponding pains associated with racing in such footwear. My mind spun me so many miles above those coarse surfaces with all of the new and exhilarating senses of mine, then awaken. BACK AGAIN My friends were curious: "Jeff, where the heck were you? Why were you gone so long? What were you doing? Why were you almost late for practice?" etc. were their queries. Well, they're never gonna believe this, I thought. And... they didn't! I softly attempted to explain the 'Whats, wheres, and whys' to several friends of mine as my heart pounded, my lungs heaved and my mind continued to spin. Especially in explaining those items in more detail to my closest friends, those whom I was rooming with. Each of them though, as well as anyone else who overheard, they only looked to me with disbelief in their eye. And well, I guess I couldn't really blame them. It did sound sorta like any other "young man's fantasy" .... That is to say: Being a high-school boy away at some university. Meeting a beautiful young woman there. Then, within 10-15 minutes (or so) to be in a wash room with that sweet girl all over you! Oh well... A smile was spread across my face and a bright light probably shown above me as well for, I knew what really happened! Anyway... The band practiced a fair portion of our new music that morning and spoke further about the new marching formations, choreography and drills. Our instructor finally told us when we were to report to the nearby field for our marching practice later that day, after our evening meals. Then, we were excused. As we replaced our instruments some of the guys continued to pester me. So to speak. They still had their usual questions. Although many of them only shook their head in disbelief of my responses. Oh, well. I can't really blame them, was sorta my sentiment while we walked toward the cafeteria for lunch. TO OUR ROOM After the meal, my roommates and I returned to the dorm. We were coming down the long hallway, toward our assigned room, when we saw the note paper tacked upon a door front. As we continued onward, it gradually became apparent that the note we saw was stuck to the door of our room! (BS, JMc, TH, and myself.) I believe that each of us quickened our pace, the others more than I though. It was one of them who hurriedly stepped up to pull the note down. "Who's it for!? Who's it for!?" the others inquired excitedly. "It's for... Jeff," one or more of 'em said in, well, certain tones of disbelief. "Who's it from?" I calmly, or perhaps even sarcastically, asked as my chin rose. "It's signed-- Tracey!" he told us before each of them turned to face me with "astonished looks" in their eyes. It was probably a nice, big 'shit eatin' grin that shown upon my face though, as I stepped up and snatched the note from my friend's hand. "What's it say?! What's it say?!" they asked excitedly from all around me as we stepped into the room. "Well..." I said as I began reading it. Then calmly, having read all of that woman's invigorating, little note, I told them "Tracey, wants me to call her for dinner tonight." I showed all the strengths I could muster doing my best just to remain calm. Although, my mind was spinning with such exuberance and my knees felt weak once more. I wanted to jump and shout, or to call out boldly-- "Ya see!? Ya see!?" As we spread about our room though, "Well?!" I think each of them asked, so eagerly, "What are you gonna do?!" "Well..." I began to explain happily, perhaps even a little sarcastically once more as I shook my head slowly back an' forth, "What do ya think I'm gonna do!?... I'm gonna call her!" my head bobbed excitedly as I finished my response. "Whoa -oa -oa!" is what I believe they exclaimed. Then each of them began to explain or predict the ramifications of such actions. "Oh, my gosh! Do you realize this... Do you realize that..." pretty much enclosed their subsequent comments. "Yeah," I told 'em, "but... do you realize if I don't!" When I did eventually call my new-found friend, Tracey, I think we both merely giggled as we recalled our earlier affair. Like my friends, neither of us could believe our brief 'interlude' from that morning, as well. But eventually, as our conversation wore on, she invited me to her place later for dinner. I quickly agreed, with little (if any) hesitation, to her delightful proposal. We proceeded to set the plans like FBI agents, or as James Bond- 007 might: First, the "pick -up" time. Next, the "transportation". Then, as well, the specific sight... "This corner, on that side," we told each other in our 'special operative' type tones. (It was to be the upper, or north/ west corner of a nearby intersection, if I recall correctly.) THE PICK UP So, at that place, at that time... I waited, so anxiously, for her arrival. It wasn't all that long though, before she was there. Oh, God! rang through my mind once more as I climbed into the lovely woman's car. We probably kissed again before she drove on, taking me to her apartment. She and a girlfriend rented a small home on that side of campus. I think my own sister, while studying at this school years before, had once lived nearby as well. Their place... Tracey introduced me to her roommate and the three of us spoke happily and cordially for a time, over our cigarettes (and perhaps a glass of wine, if I recall correctly) before the meal was served. They proceeded to ask more of those usual "Whats, Wheres, and Whys" about myself, then even more questions about my rather dauntless actions of earlier in the day. (As I recall...) Tracey and I continued to explain the "Whats" and "Hows" of our brief interlude to her friend throughout much of the meal. (Perhaps, even still attempting to explain it to our own selfs!) Like my roommates, her friend just couldn't seem believe our rash and lustful behavior, either. I was still nearly crazed with excitement all the while though. DINNER Dinner was just the regulars: A pleasant meal of chicken, pasta and beans. Served with our wine. As I said-- We, Tracey and I, explained it over and over again. Yet, her girl friend still had such a hard time believing or imagining it all. (Seemingly; such acts were not something that this beautiful young woman was known for.) Once our meal concluded, I immediately stepped up and began to help. I eased her roommate with clearing the table, etc. However my new -found friend, Tracey, had disappeared somewhere... I began carrying various plates, glasses and other items from their table into the kitchen with her friend. It was, after all, the most pleasant thing to do. I insisted. Even when Tracey's roommate tried to warn me off from such duties. She took those first items from me beside the sink before she pushed me out the swinging door. Yet... I returned with another load. "No!" she told me. After relieving me of them, she pushed me even harder through that hinged door. Not long after though, I came back with additional cups and utensils. After taking those however- "Jeffrey..." she began, before I interrupted. "No!" I replied with wide eyes, "I'm not gonna let you ladies fix me dinner and not at least help you to clean up." I explained as I shook my head, "That's not fair." She proceeded to push out the door... again. To her dismay, I came back with still more. Having taken that load from me however, Tracey's friend specified to me as she shoved me out even harder: "You are wanted elsewhere." I interrupted, repeating myself, "But that's now fair!" I said. Tracey's roommate lifted her right arm high, pointing up the staircase. Her other hand, I seem to recall, was set as a fist, upon her hip: "Upstairs. Second door to your right," she advised with an steadfast look across her face. Preparing my rebuttal as I turned back to face her though, she looked to my eye with a certain dominance in hers. Her voice was even more intent: "Upstairs. Go... Now!" I believe I grumbled then as my brow likely dropped, displaying my anguish. UPSTAIRS So, up the staircase I nervously go. With each step, my breaths become shorter and shorter, seaming less and less. It is as if I am significantly rising in altitude while I ascend this staircase, the air is becoming thinner and thinner. My mind and every thought spins so erratically. Any single or specific idea is difficult to separate from any other in all this confusion. Although, even having reached the top of these steps, my nervousness continues to elevate. I swear, my anxiousness multiplies with every pace I take down this hallway! The first door-- A small bathroom. Just a sink and counter top, scattered with the usual hair brushes, tooth pastes, etc. (I grew up with two older sisters... So, I've seen similar ever since I was a little boy.) Then a toilet and a shower stall. All innocent enough, I figure. I slowly step past while my knees steadily weaken. My nervousness continues to grow by leaps and bounds. Next-- A closed door to my left. I assume that of Tracey's room mate... I continue toward that farthest door though with lingering discomfort and hesitance. Similar to my anxieties, I swear that this hallway's length grows with my every step. Longer and longer it becomes. Only making it this much more difficult for me to ever reach that destination of mine. Especially considering all of my present anxieties: The "What ifs?" the "Whys?" and the "Hows?..." are steadily multiplying. The chaos and confusion it's created is bewildering! Finally though, I'm here... 'The second door on my right,' just as I was instructed. Oh, God! I think. Oh, my God! my clouded mind continues to spin. I guess, just as it's seemed to ever since earlier today. After one more long, deep breath though, I take this last step... With an immense shyness and /or nervousness I slowly turn to look in while still holding that breath. TRACEY'S ROOM The foot of her bed was ahead of me and the (west, south /west) evening sun shown in the two windows directly across the room from me. A desk, scattered with various college texts, sat beneath one of those windows. The head of Tracey's bed was against the wall to the far right. Her closet door, partly open, was to the right of her bed. On the other side of her bed, separated by a small night stand, was another door. I believed it lead to that bathroom I had seen as I came down the hallway. Immediately upon my right though stood her large vanity. A window to my left and a small table in the far, left -hand corner as well. It held a small television set. (If I recall...) TRACEY Tracey is lying rather casually toward the upper corner of her bed, furthest from me. She appears so comfortable there while she looks toward me rather seductively... My mind continues to spin an' spin! "Oh, my God! She is so -o -o beautiful! She is so -o -o sexy!" I say to myself, over and over again. Her slender body lies so softly there. She's upon her left side, her knees are bent partly. Her head is supported in her left hand, elbow down, while her right arm extends gently before herself. With the setting sun now behind her; I notice how her light brown hair continues to glow, just as it did when I first discovered this pretty angel! The supple curves of her delicate figure do seem partly 'amplified' though. Her graceful and curvaceous legs still shine while her other delicate, feminine lines continue to flow smoothly. However, with that last, deep breath I finally step my quivering body in. I'm still only within the doorway though, barely able to raise my eyes to meet hers within all this nervousness which plagues me. After struggling for another moment with these many words spinning in my head though, I find those which seem suitable: I offer her an explanation. (Or... Is this even my attempts of an apology, expressed forehand? Only to prepare her and I, for when its need may arise later...) "Look, um -m -m... Tracey," I begin with thinned breaths. "Ya know, I'm only a fifteen -year -old boy..." I remind her, as I take one or two small steps. My boat shoes shuffle lightly across the hard wood floor while, within my bashful and nervous state, I'm barely able to lift my eyes. It likely appears to Tracey that my face is turned more toward the floor than it is to her. It may well be! I'm just attempting to be polite... Doing my best not to 'gawk' at this beautiful woman before me. For, every time my sights do arise, I find that I am overcome once more by her lovely face and her enchanting eyes, her enticing physique... her stunning loveliness, overall. "You're gonna have to help me," I shyly continue, within what is probably just one or two more of these little steps. "If there's anything I can do," my nervous explanation furthers as my face gradually rises. "You're gonna have to lead me, guide me, show me, and /or tell me what I have to do to please you the most," I say very definitely to her face, looking straight into her eye now. My head tips toward my right while I nod gently. Oh, God! This woman... Tracey-- You are so -o -o beautiful! repeats over and over while my mind spins. My thoughts are still so unclear. "Okay..." or similar, is her only dulled expression in this sweet an' delicate tone of hers. TO HER BED With a slightly greater sense of security though, I take these last few steps. I slowly, very shyly, set myself just upon the corner of her supple bed. So, here I am, with her -- kind of. I'm still only setting on the furthest corner from her though... Somehow, even her bed appears to have grown much larger now! As well as, I immediately notice that it seems much softer than any which I've placed myself before. My body feels so weak and all my senses seem drunken. Although, every look toward her gentle face does (apparently) offer me additional strengths. I continue to look all about her. I'm searching and searching, until... Until I find that same beautiful, innocent young woman typing in a cool, quiet office once more. It brings me great strengths once I locate such purity. I slowly lie forward with my own seductive grin spreading while I struggle to control all of my fears as well as every one of my aroused delights. While I'm slowly crawling toward her though, Tracey eases my task. She gracefully moves herself nearer to me. We are so close again. I notice her perfume. As delicate as the scent of flowers in a gentle breeze, I think. As Tracey lies back slightly, her arms open to embrace me. By some divine power, I even locate those strengths of earlier this day and lean forward to kiss her tender lips once more. Steadily those same, invigorating passions which we experienced this morning return although a bit more predictably now. We continue to pull one another closer and closer. Within all my excitement my nervous, little hands and fingers still fumble slightly with the removal of her clothing. Even though, her blouse and next her skirt do seem a bit easier. Perhaps more familiar now, than in that washroom earlier. Our kisses become so excited. Our passions continue to grow wildly as our arms, legs and our bodies become intertwined. We almost struggle between ourselves! We pull and twist with one another vigorously, attempting to draw each other closer, much more firmly than before. Tracey and I passionately, so robustly make love for, oh -h -h what I believe is approximately two to two and a half hours. Though we have no sense of time. She and I roll around and around in each other's arms while our hearts race, our muscles pulse and our passions continue to roar! We experiment and experience the pleasures and sensations of numerous positions and means to satisfy one-another's desires and lusts. (I recall kissing my way down Tracey's front, once or more...) Her little physique trembles as I indulge both herself and I with these lively flickers of my tongue in all the proper places. She and I do, unavoidably, grow so hot and become rather sweaty though. It isn't long after my second orgasm that we just lie here for a while. We are wrapped safely in one another's arms. I'm floating so lightly. As I assume she must be, as well. My mind spins gently while my body tingles softly. We continue to embrace and kiss passionately, yet much more delicately, while gradually lowering ourselves. Steadily stepping from upon that pinnacle of our lust and pleasures. However; we do eventually, rather grudgingly and Oh! so slowly, begin to get ourselves out of bed. Although I can't! Can I? I, the nervous young boy thinks as Tracey begins to crawl across her mattress. No, I can't let her go! my mind whirls as I contemplate whether I have seriously, or sufficiently, satisfied this beautiful, "mature woman" who has just fed me dinner. (Hmm? You figure it out.) MY APPEAL To stop Tracey as she's beginning to get up though I must quickly step about the bed so I can face her directly. I reach to softly take her hand in mine as she attempts to rise. Why, I've even set myself to the bedside just affront of her to impede her route! Still, with every one of my teen -aged insecurities all ablaze, "No, Tracey!" I tell her. (Perhaps with a similar intensity as her roommate and I shared earlier, outside their kitchen.) She appears surprised but doesn't seem offended. Although she does look up to me with a certain confusion in her eye and upon her face. I watch as her head tips slightly toward her shoulder. Within this confused look, her brow lowers partially, "W -what?..." Tracey asks me curiously with a light smile across her lips. Even as Tracey may seem so confused now, her luscious features continue to glow; I feel her soft smile, her gentle dimples, next her precious hair. Her sweet voice shines, while the delicate flutter of her eyelashes resonate softly... Although, thinking that she may attempt to get out of her bed once more, I replace myself to confine her. When Tracey does rise slightly, I watch as her elbow extends from her. Still upon her right side, she sets her chin gently into her risen hand. She appears rather contemplative now, as if she's weighing the critical factors and /or theories of an intimidating philosophy exam. Oh, God! Even while set so serious as this, I can't get over it. Tracey, you are so incredibly gorgeous! She looks rather curiously into my eyes, I think I even note once her look of confusion gradually turns more toward one of astonishment about her lovely face, as she does. Still showing her my disagreement, I slowly turn my head side to side. "No," I say definitively. Explaining next, "Tracey, I can't let you go." I remind her, "Not until I know that I've done all I can do to satisfy you the most." Oh, God! That question or condition of mine repeats; I hear those words over and over again within myself. I'm so frightened while I continue to watch her: From her beautiful eyes to her warm cheeks. Next, these soft, moistened lips. Even every expression of hers which I'm attempting to interpret now, as closely as I possibly can. With only the understandings of a fifteen -year - old boy, mind you! Finally though, much to my dismay, her answer comes. I watch as Tracey's eyes grow wide in shock or disbelief before she lets out such a crippling laugh: "Haaa!" bursts from her. "Ho -ho -ho," she snickers moments longer. O -o -oh, my God -d -d... my heart plummets as mind reels unevenly now. So, that's it! ...I'm just a joke for this college girl. "Let's take the little high -school boy home for a laugh!" I imagine, or I fear, is the notion she must be considering. It surprises me how I can feel so incredibly small, so -o -o incredibly quickly. My mind continues to stumble as my fears, stresses and my worries spin even faster, stirring themselves to a boil. Such humiliation also races alongside of or entangled with my every thought presently. "Oh, God!" I tell myself once more, while my mind reels so. But then-- "Jabby, you must be joking!" She tells me excitedly. Her snickers continue after she does. "How old... did you say... you were?!" she asks between laughs and panting breaths with a certain intensity. (Although I'm completely unaware of which direction such questions may lead us, her query does seem fairly redundant.) "Well... fifteen," I remind her soft and timidly. My face and eyes lower humbly after I do, fearing her impending response. Though Tracey only continues to stare back, with wild eyes and a brilliant smile. Her laughter gradually softens but that appearance of her surprise and /or excitement lingers. "My God!" she exclaims. "Jabby, I don't think you understand! Do you!?" Tracey begins while looking deep into my eyes. Her head shakes back and forth, somewhat exaggerated as she does. My new found love continues in this excited manner after pausing her motions: "Don't you realize," she tells me while still looking so deeply into my eyes. Her lashes then flutter several times, surprised before she concludes with wide eyes "Most of the guys on this campus would've been out of here in ten to fifteen minutes... Or, less!" Her head turns lightly to and fro for another moment after she does. My words are still very soft and uncertain though, "So?" I nervously ask. "Yes, Jabby!" she tells me eagerly while her head nods resolutely. Her eyes are still wide as she continues, "Everything... was just fine! I'm -m -m very satisfied!" A bright smiles spreads across Tracey's face while she continues to softly bob her head up and down. Well, my pride can't help but to swell by leaps and bounds from here -on! With great relief I lean toward this sexy beauty once more so we may share another long and passionate kiss. I hold Tracey gently about her waist as we kiss and I can't help but to (almost compulsively) begin softly caressing her silky smooth side once more. "Oh, Tracey... You're sooo beautiful," I tell her softly as those same words and thoughts ring throughout myself over and over. I lean to kiss her softly on the cheek while those thoughts carry on. She sighs deeply, softly after I do, then giggles quietly. With such assurance, I feel much more at ease. Why, I even allow her to get up now! I look closely while she does and my eyes flow with each of her motions as she turns to rise from her bed. My sights can't help but to follow her every step as I pursue her sumptuously petite figure into the bathroom now. My head even sways back 'n' forth as my eyes flow, watching her lovely derrière so intently, in a rather euphoric state of mind. THE BATHROOM After following Tracey into this small restroom, I gently back her against the counter top much as we had in that wash room of her office earlier today. Our exhilarating kisses are certainly more predictable now than before, though. Why, it's not surprising at all that these invigorating caresses seem so familiar! However it's not long before we look toward the mirror. Obviously, we clearly realize our appearance(s). "Oh, my God! I'm a mess!" I tell myself. I wonder quickly, How can she stand to even look at me!? Possibly similar thoughts are crossing her mind, as well. "Maybe... We should," Tracey keenly suggests before I chime in "take a shower," we say in unison while nodding lightly. I agree with a quick, added nod of my own. Although I think a mischievous smile accompanies mine. Looking to one another I must wait only a moment before a similar smile crosses her lips. Tracey giggles playfully and her eyelashes flutter as she sets a towel in my hand and leads me toward the other side of the bathroom. My sights follow the sultry essence of her smooth back. As well as the sway of her subtle, little derriere while she leads me to the shower stall. I can't even help myself from watching so closely as she bends slightly for the nozzle as we step in. "Oh, no..." I say to myself. However, I can't stop ogling her fine backside! I step in just behind her as the water begins to flow. She turns to face me before shutting the door beside, us. Oh, no! rings through my head. One more time? This is incredible! An invigoratingly beautiful, older woman, who is (apparently) satisfied with my sexual prowess! flashes through my mind. Me-- Just a boy! A skinny, little, (probably still pimple -faced) high - school boy! (Having recently viewed home videos of myself from those years '84 on to '86-- I can't believe how small I was! About 5', 5 -6" inches tall. Although small and little, my firm legs certainly accentuated my better developed upper body: My chest and shoulders were broad and firm. They funneled nicely down my taut abdomen to my slender waist.) As Tracey and I soap up to wash one another in the hot, flowing water though our passions can't seem to be checked, so... One more time! FASTENED IN THE SHOWER Holding and caressing each other, as we are, I become rather energized. She seems to similarly. Our faces turn this way and that as we lustfully kiss, lick, maybe even bite or simply tease one another with invigorating little nibbles. Each of our hands slide gracefully over one another's moistened anatomy and I also notice how her gentle curves glisten under these warm jets of water. Tracey and I struggle while we pull and tug at one another, still attempting to hold each other closer and closer it seems. If it's even possible! Or, is there something else we have in mind? Our bodies, like our mouths, glide and stroke, pulsing together. We slip and slide against each other, loosing our grip often in this steamy shower. I extend an arm to reach for Tracey's delicate and slender thigh as my tongue probes deeper into her mouth. Her other thigh rises along my side as we continue kissing both frantically and excitedly. I grasp beneath her knee. Although, our mouths and bodies do inevitably slide apart. One way, or the other. It doesn't seem to matter which side I reach for either. We continually slide apart. Frantically, Tracey and I continue to pull and tug at one another. Over and over. We are only able mold ourselves for several frantic, heated pulsations at a time. Not many more. We try again and again. Perhaps leaning this way or the other way the next. We've become nearly crazed in this steamy shower. It seems to be impossible. We try one method, one touch, one stroke or hold, then another. Each is exhilarating, sensuous and stimulating but none are secure enough to last. We struggle, over and over again. Perhaps grasping her here?... But that doesn't last. Possibly leaning us this way while holding her that way?... But no, that doesn't last long either. Kissing and fondling each other so energetically and so sensually Tracey and I, our bodies slide together then apart over and over again. Until... Gradually, Tracey crawls even further up my front. Oh, God! Here we go again! My mind smiles as it races faster than I ever thought possible. While kissing her so deeply, I eventually pull both of Tracey's small knees higher. Further and further I lift them up my sides. This tiny woman has just climbed aboard. I'm holding her thighs upon my hips with my elbows about her knees and my hands clasped beneath her moistened buttocks as we kiss excitedly. Confused thoughts and excited images continue to clutter my mind, though. Tension and stress cause my body to tremble as my hands and fingers slide this way or that. Our tongues play lustfully as her body rises along mine. We are frantically licking one another's neck or biting at each others ear as her waist slowly pulses. With finally, these last two, three or four gliding strokes... Insertion is re -obtained! Tracey's little body rises and falls solidly upon my cock now. Stronger and stronger her physique throbs against mine, much as it had while making love in her bed, shortly before. We are gliding so smoothly together. Somehow, like the well lubricated pieces of a machine. Just as if we are made to 'fit' one another. She strokes her little figure vigorously along my midriff. My body trembles while she does from both, all my excitement as well as my every frailty. Breathing in the hot and steamy air of this small restroom doesn't help either of us though. Our breaths race! Each of them too small to ever satisfy the needs of our lungs and our bodies. Just as our every pulse, none seem long or firm enough to ever appease our ferocious lusts. While I maneuver Tracey's little bottom our moist physiques continue to slip and slide as she bounces upon my front. Our hands likewise, stroke and stroke without end over one another's anatomy. Before, with my reach beneath her and next her guidance, I finally grab her derriere while her slender thighs continue to hold me. With Tracey's slender thighs clenched firmly above my hips, then my grip beneath her and next her guidance, I begin to caress both her tender anus and her sweet little vagina. I tickle and fondle as much of her as sensitively as I'm able. Tracey groans lustfully as she succumbs to more and more of her lusts like this before our mouths fasten in the deepest kiss. She or I call out between each kiss as our physiques glide together. It seems approximately twenty minutes, or so, before the synchronized strokes of our tongues and the energetic caress of our fingers has risen our lustful duet toward a vigorous height of passion. My moistened fingers flow smoothly, like this water, over her flesh as I attempt to grasp Tracey's little figure more solidly. Holding one another so firmly, our hearts and breaths race as our physiques shake and quiver. With each successive pulse of this game of ours in the shower, our bodies throb more consistently. Steadily, harder and harder, more and more robustly, we strike our hips and abdomens together so firmly. Our hands and fingers grasp tightly, while our tongues stroke excitedly and our hearts pound strenuously as Tracey and I drive ourselves onward with sightless fervor. It is in this fatiguing and maddening state though, wildly and lustfully thrusting ourselves together in abandon, with not a single or at least not a clear thought in our minds, that my beautiful, new- found lover and I pinnacle together. My hands clench tightly about Tracey's hips and buttocks as her arms grasp about my shoulders similarly. Then our mouths part as our jaws clench and we groan in mutual exhaustion as our bodies beat out these last few pulses of our finale'. Appeasing our roaring lusts once more. While my mind spins uncontrollably like this, any particular thought is indiscernible from the next and my physique only works via involuntary response(s). As she and I orgasm simultaneously, my every muscle clamps like a vise. Whereby my little feet slide uncontrollably, all about. They squeak on the shower floor as I struggle to retain our balance. Shaking wildly and trembling weakly, Tracey and I do gradually regain our wits though. As our bodies finally relax I release this lovely young woman and set her before me, we pant heavily in mutual exhaustion. Our hands continue to lightly massage and caress each other. By the time we finally exit the shower though, this entire bathroom is very, very hot, thick with steam and each of us is still breathing doggedly. The whole room it smells like... well, like... well... it sort of smells like passionate sex! (For lack of better expression.) Although, with all of our sensual lusts apparently appeased, as well as ourselves so worn, Tracey and I do resolve to go about our "business". We gradually dry one another before slowly dressing ourselves. We casually brush our hair, etc. Slowly we conclude preparing ourselves. Although it's not too long before I look to that damned clock again. I'm such a fool! I'll say it again-- Here's a beautiful, very passionate woman: So lustful and apparently so eager to share these lusts with me. And I am about to run from her once more! Just to go out to some damned, bug -infested marching field and stomp around with a bunch of kids... Well, I guess a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Of course, I can only say this now with a really stupid lookin' grin on my face today. Realizing the time, though: "Oh! My, God!" I exclaim. "Tracey! I'm late for evening practice!" squeals right out of me. Tracey and I race to finish preparing ourselves. We get the rest of our clothing 'set' before scrambling down the staircase. I quickly say goodbye to her kindly room mate and thank her once more for the wonderful meal. Tracey now drives me quickly (although, safely) back to campus. With a healthy hug, a warm kiss goodbye, a smile and finally a gentle wave Tracey and I go our separate ways... My heart goes out to you Tracey: Where ever you may be, what ever you may be doing or even whatever you may have done... I realize that it may not seem like all that much now, but Tracey, you will forever hold a certain string that's been wrapped securely about my heart and every one of these memories, for so long now. My love goes out to your, my Dear. Well, anyway, that's sad enough. But... BACK TO PRACTICE Tracey lets me out right in front of the music building so I can run directly into our practice hall. I grab my instrument and my music. Now, I sprint like an idiot out to that 'insect -filled' field. All of my 'marching mates' are already in formation, practicing a drill. I hurriedly fall into my place of this formation, between the laughter and snickers of those same band members. My "marching trombone" raises to its attention position as I begin marching right along with them. All the while, sweat is already beginning to cover my body and I'm panting hard, so out of breath. It's not long though, before our director grabs his amplified bull -horn. There's a brief pause before "Halt!" he casts through that damned horn. "*Bleep*(my last name)! Get up here!" he shouts. His words, they seem to linger subtlety between the other band members although they resonate ominously in my head. So, I must miserably walk back through those ranks of my snickering band members to his podium. I'm forced to listen to their laughter and other cracks as I pass. "Oh, Jeff... You're gonna get it this time!" or "Holly shit, where the heck were you?" Etc. Even, "Was she worth it?" my closest friends, those who knew the truth, inquire as I go by. UNDERSTANDINGS "Was she worth it?" they asked... Oh, God! Yes, she was! If I could travel back in time to do it once more, even knowing the consequences involved, I would promptly go right back to do it all over again! Although, 'knowing what I now know', it's likely that I would change a few things... I would have had her pick me up sooner and I would have left much later. Or even, I might never have run from her at all. Beginning that very morning! I wouldn't have come back to our dorm until the wee hours of the night. ...To be "buzzed -in". (I think it's referred to as.) Or, on second thought, I might not have even come back! Well...'til the next day, or so. Possibly though-- Not ever! I can imagine it now... All those little posters with my photograph upon them, plastered near the entrance to every grocery store in the Mount Happy area. They'd read-- "Missing: Young man of 15 years. Dark hair, dark eyes... nice tan. Last seen wearing Lacosta polo shirt and a quaint smile or silly grin. Although, most likely now a rather dazed look of pleasure upon his face and great satisfaction within those large brown eyes." FINALITIES Well, I do eventually reach our director's podium. He's looking upon me with a sincere, or even a fierce essence about himself. Although, only long enough to administer my first penalty: Mr. LJ tells me in a very stern tone that he 'doesn't want to see my instrument fall from its play position throughout the rest of the evening's drills,' then sends me back. So... I return. Walking back through the ranks, I see various sarcastic expressions all about me and I can still hear a few more cracks as I go. With my heavy instrument held high I eventually fall back into my post. We continue our marching rehearsal, practicing many of those new formations and the choreographed synchronization of each. I am so tired and worn out. My every muscle feels limp and so -o -o weak. My arms tremble feebly while my legs shake, as if decrepit. From various other matters, of course, although my back also hurts so badly. It aches from my shoulders, through my scoliosis defected spine, right into my hips. Even my head continues to spin. Although, I never allow that horn to come down. Not once! I think it may have gradually lowered just a bit, from time to time, from that proper play angle now and then. I know, I know. But... I am sorry. Only for being late for practice, that is! EARLIER PROPOSITIONS Just that spring, before the end of the school year, our band director offered me a proposal. While in his office at the high school one morning, he explained "Jabber, we need more base on the field." He next asked if I would consider trading instruments... 'Would I think about playing a marching trombone for the coming season?' "But, I can't play the trombone," I replied. He clarified himself 'The marching trombone (as he called it) wasn't really a trombone...' It was essentially large a trumpet. A three keyed, B -flat instrument, just like my trumpet. He did admit that it was just a bit bigger, though. Well, it was! Approximately three times as large. ...Three times as heavy, too! Yet, I can't really deny him, can I? I thought that day in his office. He was our director, after all is said and done. In essence, his words were "the law". Weren't they? I was to do what he said, when he said to do it. Or, I easily estimated, my life would become a living hell. EXECUTING THE SENTENCE So, I lift my bulky instrument up and hold this horn at a play position while we march the rest of the evening. (Play position-- approximately 15 degrees above level, as is considered the proper angle upon the marching field.) We march and march. Probably for another hour and a half to two hours... possibly longer! Oh, God! This is awful. My arms, chest, and shoulders ache so badly. The open field is still hot from the burning sun of the day. In fact, now it is simply expelling all of that heat which it collected throughout the day. My arms and shoulders ache so bad, within o -o -oh, probably 45 minutes, or so. My shoulders and chest burn! From both, the heat created by my clenched muscles and the heat rising from this field... Along with the temperatures created by our exercise. This sweat grows upon me quickly. It drips through my hair and itches so badly. As well as does all the sweat which is soaking my clothes. This instrument in my hands is also too heavy to be held in just one, to allow a player to scratch himself with the other, so... I must only endure these wrenching pains and irritations. Covered in sweat, my polo shirt hangs damply from my shoulders. Fortunate enough for that amphibious creature which stands upon my chest (the Izod alligator), although... if I could pause to wring this shirt out, I'd likely fill a large drinking glass! My body sways with a similar unsteadiness too, as I imagine a drunken man would. I stumble around slightly, leaning back and forth, or else to and fro... My mind swirls. Chaotic queries and notions continue to stir my thoughts. ...Like many have since morning, although they are now ringing with a very different tone from any I've heard yet, this day. That sweat which made my scalp itch before is gradually running down my face, it's acidity scorches my eyes. It seems to pool up, right there at the corners, too. Both inside and out. They burn with irritation! Obviously, my body hurts all over although I endure. It's probably not long after the summer sun has fallen over the horizon that our practice is finally brought to its end. "Oh! Thank God!" I say to myself. I want to drop, right here and right now. PHYSICAL DISTRESSES I ached so. My muscles burned and seared. I continued to itch all over from the sweat which pooled upon me earlier as well as the fact that without the sunlight, I was beginning to chill in my damp clothing. My knees trembled while my legs felt so weak. Each of the muscles involved in holding my horn, ached so badly. My back hurt all over. Both weak from exertion as well the wretched pains of this damned scoliosis which I suffer. As my friends and I all gratefully or, perhaps even gleefully for some of us ...as we fell from our ranks, we solemnly began that walk back toward the music hall to replace our instruments for the night. My horn was finally lowered and my shoulders rolled forward allowing my arms to hang limply while I curled my spine to stretch. I listened to those annoying "Cracks! Pops!" and "Snaps!" as I folded my spine. This allowed some of those strains and tensions of mine to rise. However a number of friends were already headed my way. Their questions came fast and excitedly. They each wanted to know the facts... "What's this? What's that? Where were you?" were most of those which I heard. Although a couple others were still "Why were you gone so -o -o long!?" Some of those friends even began to huddle about me, until... his last call came: With that bull -horn in hand, our band director blasted this order with a fierce shout "*Bleep*!... You run -n -n! Don't you walk!" So... I ran. There was only one road which separated the field from the sidewalk which lead to the music hall and storage area. Just one. Normally, my friends and I waited for the lights to change and that little WALK NOW sign to begin blinking before we crossed. Although, he did say "run". Didn't he? So... I did. I sprinted with abandon right across all three, or was it even four?, lanes of that intersection! Bringing several of them to quick, screeching halts. With arm extended, I even left my hand print upon one or maybe two hoods. Bouncing, so to speak, lightly off of 'em while a couple other lanes came to their halt. But... I did 'Run'. Didn't I? After filing into that cool storage /practice area, I was still aching and itching. However I was beginning to chill by then, covered in cold, sweaty clothing while I put that bulky horn away. Some friends and band mates continued to ask those annoying, little questions while others simply stared blankly or heckled me from the background. Although, the moment or truth finally arrived. TIME FOR HONESTY "Jabby, may I speak with you?!" our director calls toward me from across this room. (Aside: I wonder now what his reaction would have been then if I had simply replied "No, you may not." Ha! Ha! Ha!) Oh, shit! my mind races. Everything is so confused. This is it. I'm gonna get it now! is essentially the only consideration which I can place words to. While I walk through the various rows of seats and the students there I continue to see those "Oh, shit!" type expressions upon many of their faces. A couple of laughs still. I think I even overhear a few of those occasional, whispered remarks as I go. Essentially most of these can been tallied into a single phrase: "You're in it deep!..." clearly sums them up. Our director is standing beside the door of the office which he uses. As I step up toward him, my knees tremble in fear. Especially considering my exhaustion! Following the nod of his head and the direction of his eyes, I step into his small office. He follows me in, closing the door somewhat heavily behind himself. Once I turn to face him, either following a verbal command or possibly just the motion of his eyes, I proceed to seat myself. I fall weakly into this chair before I look up to his face and see such discontent in his eye as he sets himself behind the large desk. In this briefest silence, while he is seated, my thoughts are racing to prepare any possible explanation, or explanations, which I can. Yet, any words of justification which I might attempt only swirl obscurely in my unstable mind. When he looks toward my face and my eyes meet his, I quickly sit myself toward his desk, take a quick breath and blurt out what I expect to be his major concern. "Look sir, I wasn't smokin' dope, doin' drugs, or drinking!" is my first rebuttal. Although, in my own questionable tone, I continue more honestly, (I think I've already begun to take a lighter tone as my eyebrows arise and my head tips slightly toward my shoulder. His eyes still follow mine closely, curiously...) I continue, "Well, (a short breath) I did have a glass of wine with our meal," I confess as my brow rises further, my head bobs lightly and my face probably still shows all my hope for any of his understanding. "Wine?..." he replies slowly or gently as his own brow rises, inquisitively now. "Yes... sir. (I chuckle lightly.) They served me white wine with chicken!" I tell him with a 'tight' smile across my lips. Mr. LJ pauses for several moments as he continues to inspect my face and /or simply my reply. He watches me so closely. "But Jabby, where have you been -n -n? No one has seen you for hours," is his first, full question. (If I recall...) "Well, sir," I begin, "I met a young woman earlier today." My explanation broadens, he continues to eyeball me closely while it does. "And... she invited me to dinner this evening," I tell him with a mild grin, or what (I imagine) still must appear to be a rather hopeful look upon my face. (I still longed so to find any leniency or carelessness in him which I could.) He continues to look toward me with that certain appearance of doubt showing across his face and within his eyes though. "To dinner, Jeffrey?" he asks as his eyebrows rise with that curious look lingering about himself. "Well... Yes sir," I reply. "But Jeffrey, you've been gone so long?..." he replies, restating his earlier concern. His eyebrows rise once more, as he does. I repeat myself similarly "Well, yes sir." His doubt continues to show strongly in his eyes while I do. "But, Jeffrey?..." "Well sir, after dinner I tried to help clean up..." I tell him as I watch Mr. LJ's brow rise again. "When I tried to help though," I say with a little giggle, "her girlfriend only forced me out of the kitchen and directed me upstairs." My band director looks upon me so curiously, with no, or very little understanding which I can find about him yet. I explain this further: "When I told her girlfriend that 'I can't let you girls fix me dinner and not, at least, help you to clean up." He continues to look rather questionable (perhaps confused) of this story which I am explaining. "But Jeffrey, you have been gone so long." he says with a refreshed tension within his voice. "Well sir, I went upstairs and... well..." I uneasily designate, before I swallow hard. "Well sir... ahhh... we did end up making love..." "Making love?" he asks with every one of those signs of hesitance still about himself. "Yeah, sir! I was so nervous!" I say rather excitedly while shaking my head to and fro. Although I think I even notice a certain compassion showing upon his face now, while I do. "I had to explain to her that-- 'I'm just a fifteen year old boy. You're gonna have to lead me, guide me, show me, and /or tell me what I have to do to please you'!" I eagerly narrate, likely still showing my grin. He smiles slightly as I do. "But Jeffrey, for hours?" that doubtful tone and appearance of his reappears. "Well sir, (I swallow hard once again with a light grin still on my face) after a couple hours in bed we were kinda sweaty..." I tell him as my eyebrows rise. I guess I'm still hoping to locate more of that compassion which I think he had shown, just moments ago. "We had to shower," I explain, likely with this particular, perhaps even cocky, smile of mine still showing. Mr. LJ continues to look so curiously about me. "The shower?..." his words sort of fade away while his head dips toward one side and a growing distance appears upon his face. "Yeah!" I tell him, well... excitedly. Mr. LJ still looks so curious of this explanation. I further myself with a renewed smile and my giggle: "I was holding her up on me..." I notice he sorta grins while I do. Although, I recognize that same questionable look in just a moment. Another tight smile crosses my lips before explaining "I came so hard!" My giggle probably previews my continuance, "Yeah! My little feet were slippin' all around!" This giggle grows... "I thought we were both gonna go down!" I tell him with a light laugh. My band instructor laughs a little himself as he sets himself back, slightly more relaxed and reclines partially in his chair behind the desk. His brow drops while he looks about me so perplexedly. As he's taking several long and deep breaths, I watch his face closely. I'm so scared of his reaction. I'm still attempting to imagine what in the world my overall punishment could, or will, be. Although, Mr. LJ soon sets himself slightly taller in his chair before he 'sets the bricks', so to speak. With another of those deep, steady breaths of his... (Although it still seems that I haven't breathed in so -o -o long!) he leans forward and sets his elbows upon the desk between us. I'm waiting so anxiously. My body is so tight. I swear the tension which runs within me could saw through iron! Very gradually though, I finally force myself to draw one long, slow and deep breath. My mind continues to swirl with such anticipation as I peer across this desk top. "Well, Jabby," he begins. "I think that..." he pauses briefly, "We-- can-- assume-- that you've already served your punishment for this matter," he tells me rather 'aristocratically'... (for lack of better expression.) Ohhh, God! My mind revolves, although I immediately notice as it begins to slow. Those tensions all about me similarly, many are released nearly in an instant. "Pop! Pop! Pop! Snap!" they go. "Aghhh," he probably hears me sigh while I rest slightly in my chair. I take several deep and easier breaths too, as I feel my head gradually steadying. Although in just a moment, as I begin to stand from this chair, "But, Jeffrey..." he looks toward me so seriously again. Oh, shit! I briefly contemplate as I seat myself weakly. "Why-- Why in the world did you race across that street?" he asks or demands with a certain intensity. Similar to that firmness which he had displayed earlier. This might be a somewhat sarcastic expression showing about my face as I explain, "Pardon me sir but and I do quote you sir, '*Bleep*! You run, don't you walk!' were you words." I pause for a moment. I believe I also notice some realization showing about him before I continue this justification. Slowly, shaking my head from side to side, I further myself, "You said nothin' about waiting for traffic..." My words sort of fa-a-ade away. Mr. LJ leans toward me, from across the desk, as his lips part slightly while (I imagine) preparing his response. Although, in an instant, he stops himself. I watch as he relaxes his stance, so to speak. I think I can even see some of those tensions rise from him as he contemplates my statement further.... And considering those facts, as I assume he must be, I did, after all, have approximately eighty(?) or more of my friends as witness to that particular fact. (I still imagine that I could see those thoughts.) In that instant he was thinking of how in the world he could ever explain to the police that showed at the scene-- "Honestly officer, the boy just ran into the road..." While a number of students might, incongruently, point out "But officers, our director did tell him to "Run!" not to "walk." They might shake their heads back and forth as I just had, "He didn't say anything about waiting for the traffic lights, Officer." they'd continue. Fortunate enough for me though, not another word was ever spoken (to myself anyway) of this predicament I caused. He (our band director) never seemed to hold a grudge about that incident either. So, neither could I... But boy, I do imagine that it must have been very difficult for him not to resent me. APOLOGIES I do sincerely apologize to one, Mr. JLJ, for that entire incident... Because he is such a fine band instructor /director, who allowed me every opportunity to advance myself. Even after I did offend, upset or frighten him like that. So, I must reassert my grief and sorrow to him because of this particular episode-- Mr. JLJ, I hope that my foolish and rash actions didn't or don't cause you any distress or pains then or even now. MAY I ALSO DEDICATE THIS WRITING TO ONE-- TRACEY 'SOMETHINSKI': WHOM I LAST SAW AS A SOPHOMORE OF A MID -MICHIGAN UNIVERSITY, 1984. IN A PLACE CALLED-- MOUNT "HAPPY"... IF I COULD, I VERY GLADLY WOULD, DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN, MY DEAR! Sincerely, Jabber Ps. To heck with 'em! The rest of the boys 'n' girls in the band, that is. Tracey, to go back and just to see you again... I would never let it end. Oh Tracey, if you're out there somewhere and you ever think of me: Please, rest assured that I still think of you. Possibly, more than you could ever imagine. Pps. I was also happily reassured, shortly after writing this, by a very close friend of mine (actually a roommate that hot week, the summer of '84)... That, although he admits some of the facts (known to him) of this experience are not so clear now (due in part to the SIBF* suffered later in high school.) He did, however, affirm one particular recollection of mine. He does validate the accuracy of my sentiment-- "If I could, I would, do it all again." Which I had apparently told the guys later that very evening. My largest thanks to you BS. Thanks for being there for me that week and all these many days that have come since. *SIBF: Self Induced Brain-Fry. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 40