Sunday, October 25, 2015

Marsha

Marsha had a Dorothy Hamill haircut. At the time Miss Hamill was the reigning Olympic Champion figure skater so many women had adopted her short hairstyle.  Most of them probably shouldn't have, of course.  But that's always true.  There are plenty of examples today of people dressing or otherwise trying to mimic the look of a celebrity.  It's seldom a wise idea.

Now Dorothy was very cute but I thought Marsha was her equal in that department.  Marsha also had a voluptuousness that I found more attractive than the athletic build of a figure skater.  (Your mileage may vary.)  To me, Marsha was a smart babe who also had a great speaking voice-- a big plus at a broadcasting school.

We became friends pretty quickly.  She had already graduated from college and was attending the broadcasting school to try to get into TV.    I thought that was a good idea and encouraged her to go for it. She was only a year or so younger than me and we had similar tastes in TV shows, music (to some extent) and movies.  Well, at least similar enough that we didn't argue about it.  I enjoyed having someone to actually date, which mainly meant going out to eat and seeing movies a couple times a week.  She seemed pretty shy about sex and I didn't press her at all on that front.

She liked the fact that I was already working at the biggest radio station in the city.  A station that, by the way, also had a TV side that operated out of the same complex.  But if she was getting close to me just to further her career she was very skilled at doing it without making it obvious.  Then again, I can be pretty oblivious about stuff like that. 

We had been going out for a while when Marsha asked me if I could help her get a job at the school.  She wanted something during the day. She lived with her parents about a half hour south of town so her thinking was that she could come up in the morning to work and stay for school in the evening on the two nights she had class.  I had an excellent relationship with the woman who was the office manager at the school.  I put in a good word for Marsha, she interviewed, and within a few days of her asking me for help she was working 30 hours a week at the school.

A couple of weeks after she started working we met for an early dinner at a little place a couple blocks from the school.  She had gotten off at  4:30 and I was supposed to be at the school at 6.  We talked and ate and then she went down the road to home.

During the first break that evening during class I sat in an office with one of the full-time employees of the school.  Ernie had worked at one of the TV stations in town on the tech side and his gig at the school was signing up students and teaching some of the TV and radio production classes.  Ernie was married but lecherous.  As far as I know he had never scored with a student but he sure always talked about it.  When he motioned me into his office and closed the door I was sure he wanted to discuss young pussy.

He got right to it.
"Do you know this chick who just started working here... she's in the Monday- Wednesday class... Marsha?"
"Yeah, I know who you mean," I said.
"Wow! That little chippy is fuckin' hot!  I've never had her in a class but I'd like to do her in the ass, ya know!"

Ernie really had a way with words.

"She's cute, that's for sure," I said.
"Cute! The fuckin' tits on that girl!  Jesus! You should have seen the sweater she had on today!"
Of course, I had, but I didn't tell him that.
"I was talkin' to her and I couldn't take my eyes off those knockers.  And, no fuckin' bra on so when her high beams went on... I thought my pants would rip, ya know what I mean?"
"Sounds great, Ern!  So, her nipples stood up while she was talking to you, huh.  She must be interested. You gonna take a run at her?"
"I'm thinking on it.  That's why I wanted to talk to you... see if you knew anything about her.  Honest to God Wil, the ass on that girl.  What I would do to her! You could suffocate between those big titties too!"

"I know her a bit.  I mean, we've talked some.  She's pretty reserved.  Real close family from what I can tell... lives at home.  I don't know if she's exactly 'up for the party', Ernie."
"Reserved... hmmm. That could be fun. I like 'hard to get.'"

The students were going back into the classroom so we broke off our high level discussion.

I didn't know Marsha nearly well enough to tell her the details of Ernie's obsession with her but I did tell her on the phone the next day to look out for him.  She laughed, "Oh, he's so creepy.  I had to go in the office and ask him a question for Bill and he kept stroking his necktie the whole time I was in there.  Ewwww!  He's really gross.  Hold it, did he say something about me?!"
"No, Marsha, I just know he's... well, he's what you already figured out he is."

"Hey, Wil... thanks for lookin' out for me."
"No problem, Marsha.  See you tomorrow?"
"Yes!  I'm looking forward to it, I love the Carly Simon song from that movie." she said.

So, in addition to brains and beauty Marsha also seemed to have a good sleazeball detector. 

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Was It Her?

I had only a couple more encounters with Debbie.  About a week after the events chronicled in my last post she was back at my house in the evening.  Before we made it to the bedroom Debbie suggested we go for a drive.  We took my van and I drove where she directed me.  I was soon in a part of town I didn't know. After a few minutes we turned right down a residential street.  The homes were nice but not overly grand. 

We went a few blocks and Debbie told me to slow down.  Then she had me pull over.  There was on-street parking in this part of town and I pulled in between a couple of sedans.
"OK.  So, what are we doing?" I said.
"See that house on the left?" She pointed at a house about a half block up the street.  It was just after dusk.  I could see the house.  The porch light was on.
"The brick split level, white trim, with garage on this side?"
"Yes," Debbie said.
"OK. So...?"
"That's where I live."
"Oh.  It looks nice.  Are we going in or something?"
"No."
Debbie got up and walked, stooped over so her head wouldn't bump the roof of the van, between the front seats and sat in the short row immediately behind me.
"Would you come back here, please..."
I got out of the driver's seat and went back to the bench where she was.
Then Debbie slid herself off the seat and sat on the floor of the van.  She took off the shorts she was wearing and then slipped off her panties.

We screwed on the floor of the van parked a half a block from her house.  It was dirty and quick.
That night was the last I saw Debbie.  Maybe...
------------------------------

About thirty years later I was walking through a bookstore when an end cap display caught my eye. I didn't know why I stopped to look at the books until I realized that the author's name-- a distinctive, uncommon last name-- had triggered my stop.  It was Debbie's name on the cover of a cookbook.  I picked up a copy and wondered if it was the same person I'd known decades earlier.  The short bio on the back flap of the dust jacket didn't rule it out.  In fact it said that she was from the right state but lived in a different city than where we met.  The small picture of her didn't look a lot like the Debbie I remembered.  But I couldn't be sure it wasn't her.

The display signage said she would be in the store for a book signing that weekend.  I didn't have any desire to talk to her but I was curious if it was the same person.

I went back that weekend and saw that they had her set up at a table for several hours with a stack of books to sign.  There was no long line but there was a steady flow of people coming up to meet her and have a cookbook signed.  The author seemed to be the same height as the Debbie I knew but about 40 pounds heavier.  Her thick dark red hair was now cut short and blondish.  She wore wire-framed glasses. She smiled warmly at everyone who came up to the table.  I heard her speak... it could be her... I couldn't be sure.
---------------------------------

The new classes started at the broadcasting school the week after the events in the van.  Between the two new sections there were about 50-60 students.  Of those fewer than two dozen were women.  Of that group I would guess about 10 or so were my age or younger.  I found four attractive.  But the one that caught my eye was Marsha.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Finals

I believed Debbie when she told me that she was a virgin.  In fact, by the time I sent her back home to her mom and daddy, freshly fucked, I was certain of it.  I also was beginning to think that she had, in a way, used me.

She was the new swan that not long before had been an ugly duckling, to hear her tell it.  But what I was picking up on was that she wanted some sexual experience because she had her eye on a guy-- some guy who hadn't noticed her in high school and now was bird-dogging her for a date. She had babbled about all sorts of stuff after she got laid for the first time that night. I was piecing some things together.  After about an hour and a half  of her talking I told her to stroke my dick.  She did. The chatter died down immediately as well.

Once I was stiff I put on a fresh rubber and told her to get in position for a doggy-style fuck.  She figured out how to do that and I got behind her.  I gave her snow white ass cheeks each a good bare-hand smack and, as I slid back into that pussy I jerked her head back by her thick, red hair and smacked her ass again with my free hand.  She yelped, I let go of her hair, grabbed her waist with both hands and then I banged the hell out of her from behind as she gasped, moaned, and panted.

A little after 10PM I walked Debbie down to the family Oldsmobile. 
"Thanks for the lesson," she said, sounding all flirty.
"Gonna tell your girlfriends what you learned tonight?"
"No!  They'd want their own lessons... they would be jealous of me though..."
I shrugged.
"Is it possible to come back again?" she said.
"Call me. I'd call you but you've never given me your phone number."

I walked over to my van, got in as she drove down the street and then I drove to work in the other direction.

Well, I had done my part if my role was to be her teacher.  I wasn't going to complain if all I got out of it was an amateur blowjob and a couple of good tight-pussy fucks.  

Besides, a couple of new classes would be starting up in a week and there would be a lot of new recruits... I hoped.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Lesson Two

A couple of days after her first photography lesson Debbie called me asking for another session.
We arranged to have her come visit me at 5PM the following evening.

She was prompt and dressed well for her lesson although she had left her camera in the car.

She was wearing a dark brown miniskirt, a cream colored sleeveless blouse, and sandals.  She wore little makeup other than a neutral lipstick.  She smelled shower fresh as I pressed her back against the closed front door.
"Do you remember where the bedroom is?"
"Yes," she said.
"On your way there take off an article of clothing every few steps.  Make sure you have nothing on when you get to the bedroom."
"ok."

I stepped back and watched her move towards the bedroom.  First she slipped off her sandals.  Next she slid off her little bit of a skirt.  A few steps later the blouse was tossed onto a chair and she looked back over her shoulder at me.
"Everything?"
I nodded.  She unhooked her ivory colored bra, flipped it onto the couch and finally, at the door to the bedroom, she dropped her matching panties and left them on the floor as she stepped into the bedroom.

She was standing next to the bed when I entered the room.  I pushed the pillows together, got on the bed, and stretched out in jeans and a t-shirt-- no boots or socks.  I had her lie on top of me with back up against me.  We maneuvered around until I could get my right hand on her pussy.  I fingered her as her ass pushed against the hard cock in my pants.  My left hand reached around and found her left breast.  She was wet in moments.  She came, loudly, not long after.

I rolled her off of me and got out of the bed.  She watched as I pulled off my t-shirt and took off my jeans and underwear.  I rolled a rubber on to my hard dick, got between her spread legs, and pushed into her.  She was so tight I had to talk her into relaxing.  I was afraid I would get soft trying to get her to loosen up.  But, very soon I was able to get all the way in and Debbie got fucked for the first time in her life.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Lesson Learned

In the bedroom I took Debbie's blouse off and touched her pert breasts.  I lightly pinched her nipples as she looked down to watch my hands on her milky white skin.

I sat back on the bed and told her to take off everything else.  I still had on my jeans and shirt but had taken off my shoes and socks.  She slid the culottes to the floor and stepped out of her sandals.
Her skin was flawless and there wasn't the hint of a tan line visible as I told her to turn around.  She then turned back to face me as instructed.  Her bush was a brighter red than the hair on her head.

"Do you dye your hair a darker shade of red?"
"Yes."
"Was that part of your makeover?"
"Yes. I had clown hair.  You wouldn't have looked twice at me."
"No doubt. That bright red looks pretty good down there though. Get over here," I said.
I leaned back against the pillows that were up against the headboard and had her lie back against me.
"Do you like to play with yourself, Debbie?"
"Yes."
"Go ahead."
She began to finger herself while I ran my hands over her skin and played with her nipples.  Once she had warmed herself up I reached her pussy with my right hand and eventually filled her with my middle two fingers.  As she rubbed herself I pushed in and out of her wet slit until she arched her back, groaned, and came hard.  Her pale skin glistened.  Within a minute she complained that she was getting cold.  I moved her off me and covered her with a sheet as I got out of bed. I went into the bathroom and took a piss and washed my hands. I came back into the bedroom, took off my clothes, and turned back to the bed.  Debbie had the covers pulled up to her chin and was staring at my cock.

"I'm not gonna fuck you tonight, green eyes.  I don't have a rubber.  But, I'm sure you must be eager to learn how to suck a cock."
Her eyes were wide and she nodded very slightly.
"Was that a yes?"
"Yes. But.... I...."
"Debbie, dear, you came here to get fucked right? The camera stuff was fun but, really, you came here to get fucked, right?"
She nodded again.
"Well, I'd love to fuck you for the next couple hours, but I won't take that chance. Oh, I'll fuck you. Soon.  But, for now, you're going to suck my cock, right?"
"Yes."

I pulled the covers back and got back into bed on my back.  I slid her around on the bed until her head was down at my hips. She took to her instructions well, stroking, tonguing, licking, until she finally got a rush of warm jizz in her mouth which she promptly choked on and let flow back onto her hand and my cock.

"That was a good first effort, girl."

"I don't have to be home until 10," she said.

For the next two and a half hours we alternated me fingering her to orgasm with her sucking my stiff dick.

I walked her out to her father's big Oldsmobile and off she went down the road back to her parent's house.  Twenty year old Debbie M. learned how to operate her camera and, by the end of the evening, had become a pretty good cocksucking slut.

.



Sunday, August 23, 2015

Proper Camera Use Pt. 3

Debbie swung her left leg around so she was sitting on my thighs facing me.  She put her arms on my shoulders, leaned in and we kissed. After the first kiss I put her camera on the floor.  I couldn't slide back on the couch without pushing her off me and onto the floor.  We kissed some more.  Her nipples pressed against the cotton shirt she had on. 

"I don't want to sound too forward," I said, "but we would be a lot more comfortable in the bedroom," I said.
"OK, but, um, I have to tell you... I've never done... anything."
"What?"
"This is so embarrassing... but, really, I've never done anything... I never really kissed a boy until just now. On the playground in sixth grade I chased a boy and kissed him but, I kinda don't think that counts."
"Uh, wow, that's hard to believe.  I, uh, seriously?"
"Yeah. I was a bookworm in school.  Bad haircut, glasses, boys didn't look at me. I'm an only child so I didn't have a sister or brother to tell me I needed to be... anyway, I went to college for a year and hated it because everybody else seemed so cool..."

"So, what happened, I mean, you're not like that now..." I said.
"I just decided to change.  I became friends with this girl I barely knew in high school.  She was always overweight, still is but she's working on it, but she's really pretty and, anyway, we just decided to help each other be... you know, to fit in better."
"It's working, Debbie."
I put both hands on her waist and lifted her off my lap and stood up.  I led her to the bedroom.
"Debbie, we're not going to do anything you don't want to do."

Proper Camera Use Pt. 2

Debbie knocked on the door of my one bedroom apartment at 6.
I opened the door and she said immediately, "Is my car safe out there?"
"I told you it wasn't the best neighborhood. Nobody's ever messed with my car but I'm gone a lot more than I'm here. Which one is yours?"
She pointed at a big blue 4 door Oldsmobile. "It's my daddy's car. It'll be OK, right?"
"Don't worry about it." I said, "C'mon in."

She was wearing a light pink, almost white, sleeveless cotton blouse, pale green culottes the length of a micro miniskirt, and white sandals that were kind of like flip-flops.  She smelled fresh and clean.  I had never noticed her wearing lipstick at the school but she was now.  It was a neutral shade and made her full lips look spectacular.  She had a small purse the color of her sandals and a black camera bag.

I offered her a drink. She opted for ice water.  The apartment tour took a couple seconds. We were in the little living room where the window air conditioner was running full blast.  Over there is the galley kitchen... behind is the bathroom which is nearly as big as the living room... and there's the bedroom which is the biggest room in the place.  I told her the crappy furniture came with the place and that my landlady, Cora, was getting me into a nice two bedroom owned by the same people as this place over in a very nice part of town. 

We sat next to each other on the black Naugahyde cushions of the couch and discussed the school, the people that we knew in common, a few other mundane topics and finally I said, "Well, let's see that new camera."

It was a newer, more expensive camera than mine.  I took some time familiarizing myself with it. The only auto function on it was the light meter so it would be easy to show her how to make pictures with it.

She really didn't know how to use it or, if she did, she faked it really well.  I took her through the basics of shutter speed, f stops, focusing, and proper exposure as she sat right against me to my left.
At some point I noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra with that sleeveless blouse-- that fact had become quite apparent.  I found it to be an interesting data point.  (At the time you said to yourself, Holy Shit!- ed.)

I was sitting on the edge of the couch holding her SLR in my right hand as I was telling her about depth of field when she stood up. She was on my left and leaning over so her head was near mine to look at the viewfinder. In some ways it was like she was climbing on top of me... but maybe she was just trying to see what I was showing her on her camera.  I couldn't be certain.  But...she had invited herself to my apartment, showed up smelling great, looking fantastic, not wearing a bra, in hot pants that barely covered her tight little ass.... it seemed pretty reasonable to slip my left shoulder back behind her right thigh, put my left hand on the back of her smooth, long right leg and slide that hand up until I was palming her right ass cheek. 

She wasn't wearing panties either and she never flinched.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Proper Camera Use Pt. 1

Not long after talking to Roy about the broadcasting school I spoke with my program director about the place.  He said they were legit.  More importantly, he didn't have a problem with me doing some work for them as long as it didn't detract from my work for the station.  I contacted the school, went over to meet the people there and we all hit it off immediately.  As it turned out my biggest problem with them would be that they wanted me to work there far more than I could.

I started doing some work with the school towards the end of a term.  At that point the 30 or so that started out in a given class had dwindled down to 10 or 12.  It was a lot tougher curriculum than people expected and quite a few dropped out.  There was a Monday-Wednesday evening section and a Tuesday-Thursday evening section.  The Saturday group was one section that had two classes, morning and afternoon on Saturday.  So, on any given week there were 3 sections active and on the same lessons.  I was staying away from working Saturdays initially so I was seeing two groups of students, the M-W's and the T-Th's.  There were a couple of attractive women in one group and zero in the other.  I was questioning Roy's acumen regarding women right out of the gate.

We would take a break mid-way during the 6-9:30 PM class.  Students and instructors would get a soft drink... go out in the parking lot and smoke... or just stretch their legs.  When we would break the guys would usually engage me in conversation about what it was like being on-air and other radio related topics.  The two girls would talk to each other.  One night I was standing by myself in the parking lot drinking a Coke when one of the girls walked up alone and started a conversation. 

Debbie was a lovely young lady.  She had very fair skin, almost milky white, with long straight dark red hair.  She had an average build and was about 5'6".  She said she was born and raised there but I didn't hear any noticeable accent.  I knew from her contributions in class that she was bright and well-spoken.  We had a nice conversation, about what I can't recall, and then I called the class back inside.

A week later, in a similar circumstance, Debbie approached me again in the parking lot during break. I had talked during a class a week or so earlier, apparently, about photography and she started her conversation with me this time asking me about using a 35mm SLR camera.  It seems that her parents had bought her a really good camera for her birthday and, she claimed, she couldn't figure out how to work it.  I told her that the only way I could help her with it would be with the camera.

She suggested we get together somewhere away from school so I could teach her how to use her camera.  I suggested that I could meet her somewhere on Friday after 5PM or so.  She suggested that we meet at my apartment.  I was surprised at the suggestion and I told her my place wasn't very nice and the neighborhood wasn't the best.

"That's OK.  Just give me the address and I'll be there at six Friday," Debbie said.
I agreed, gave her the address, and warned her again that my place was kind of a dump and that I would be moving in a few weeks.
"I'll be there at 6.  I can't wait for you to give me lessons in private, teacher."
She went back into the school building and I finished my Coke.

Friday, August 21, 2015

A Plan Is Hatched

I'd been in town about four months or so.  Work was going pretty well.  I was doing the overnight shift on the biggest radio station in a good-sized market in the American South.  The feedback I was getting from the audience was good.  The program director and station manager seemed happy they'd hired me. 

The hours were terrible though.  Five days a week I would be on the air from midnight to 5AM.  I'd get back to my apartment by 6:30AM and sleep until 2 or 3 in the afternoon.  By 10PM or so I was usually back at the station doing show prep and, increasingly, cutting spots and doing sounders that would be used throughout the broadcast day.  They were making me the voice of the station-- without extra pay, of course.  No problem for me. I was happy to have the work.

But those hours were killin' me. On the weekends I couldn't go back to "normal" time because then I'd be wasted at work Monday and Tuesday.  The biggest problem, however, was no social life.  Sure, I had afternoons and evenings open but because I had to be at work later I couldn't get too crazy.  And, because I was at work when everybody else was gone I didn't even know the people at my station.  I'd heard a couple of the women that worked there were gorgeous but I didn't know it first hand.

When I was out shopping or going somewhere to eat during my waking hours I loved what I saw of my newly adopted home town-- a vibrant, growing, busy city filled with beautiful girls.  And those women were friendly too.  At least the store clerks, waitresses and the like that I interacted with were sweet.  To a fish-out-of-water boy from the Midwest they seemed flirtatious.  But, they were actually just very nice to everybody.

So at about this four month mark the station decided to assign someone from the sales department to meet with me once a week or so to come up with ways to increase advertising on my show.  Most of the spots I ran were national-- Coca-Cola, airlines etc. and the idea was to drum up local business.  The guy who had the least seniority got the assignment.  Radio station sales is a tough gig.  The senior guys have the big accounts.  The new hires mainly prospect for new clients.  If they can't make their "draw" in commissions they're out and a new kid tries it.  So, the guy they assigned me, Roy, was eager to make some money and succeed.

Roy and I got along well.  We'd meet for dinner on Wednesdays, normally, and kick around ideas for a few hours.  He'd use a station trade-out for the tab so it was a free meal to boot.  Of course, in addition to talking about business we'd discuss other things-- mainly, sports, cars, and girls.

Now Roy wasn't exactly setting the dating world on fire either so he got pretty restless listening to my tale of woe, especially after I'd filled him in on my recent escapades out west with the trophy wife and her best friend.  I made the mistake of telling him about Peaches and Cora-- who were strictly friends-- and he thought I was crazy to not be trying to bang both of them.  Roy was pretty horny.

One night he came up with a workable plan for me, however.  He told me about a broadcasting school in town.  I didn't see how that was going to help me much plus I figured it was some scam school anyway.  He assured me that they were reputable and above board.  Still, assuming they were legit, how did that help me meet girls?

Roy explained that they used local radio and TV talent to come in and conduct lessons.  They paid decently and the classes were 6-9:30 at night weekdays and all day Saturdays.  They were always looking for more media people to teach or guest lecture.

"So  your answer to my lack of pussy is 'work more hours'?" I said.
"You're not thinking this through, Wil.  Who do you think goes to a broadcasting school?"
"I don't know... geeky guys who think they could be the next Jay Thomas?  Guys who go to Radio Shack and build their own stereos? I don't know."
"Well, yeah.  Some of them would be in the class.  Who else?" Roy said.
"Guys who want to be Tom Brokaw but can actually pronounce the "L" sound correctly unlike him?"
"God you're dense. Stop thinking about guys! Think of all the high school girls in the metro area.  Now focus on the really pretty ones... the ones who people have told are so pretty they should be on TV... or a model... or even Miss fuckin' America."
"Yeah?"
"So, these girls get out of school and maybe they go to college or maybe they go to work... some of them hear the ad on the radio or see the ad in the paper and figure, 'why not me?'" Roy said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really, each class is about 30 students. Of those 30 about 5 or 6 are babes.  Total fucking babes.  Every time.  Year after year. Hot chicks! So fucking hot."
Roy was getting worked up about it.
"And you know this how?" I said.
"I went there after I got out of college.  I wanted into the radio TV business and, hey, it worked... here I am in glamorous show business buying dinner for some on-air asshole."
We both laughed.

"So, what's the name of this school again?" I said.