The Consequences of Two Phone Calls

I'm new at writing these stories. Please be gentle with your reviews, but feel free to make suggestions about how the stories can be improved. There is very little graphic sex in the story. I'm more interested in the narrative than graphic detail.

As always, any resemblance between the characters in the story and any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any person in this story participating in sexual activity is eighteen or older.

My special thanks goes to John Missouri, who graciously agreed to edit my early draft and whose contributions made a vast improvement to the story. Thanks John.

TWO PHONE CALLS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES

CHAPTER ONE

It's amazing how the consequences of a single telephone call and your actions after that call can be life changing. In my case, it happened twice, more than a decade apart. The first devastated my hopes, dreams, and ambitions, but also gave me a treasure. As for the second, it too was life altering, but in a different way. You'll have to read on to see the impact of that call and its aftermath.

The first call came in August of 1971, shortly after my 18

th

birthday. It was my friend, Brian. Brian and I had been best friends since grade school. We had graduated from high school that June and were about a week and a half from leaving to begin studies at our respective colleges. We were something of an odd pair. Brian was tall, slender, almost movie star handsome and a successful athlete. He'd had a series of girlfriends in high school, giving him a variety of "experiences" and had broken more than one girl's heart. I was short, slightly built, plain featured, wore fairly unattractive glasses, still had acne, and had been a complete nerd (or whatever the equivalent of a nerd was in 1971), although I had participated (badly) in cross country and track and field as a distance runner. I managed to graduate without ever having a date.

Brian's maternal grandparents had emigrated from Ireland to the U.S. and settled in our hometown shortly after the first world war. The town had been a market center for the surrounding farming communities back then but had become one of the outer edges of the Philadelphia suburbs by the time of these events. Grandmom and Grandpop, as we called them, even though they were no relation to me, had remained in contact with their families in Ireland and had even visited once or twice, as had Brian's parents.

Brian called to tell me that we had a double date arranged with two great-nieces of his grandparents who were visiting from the old country. Apparently, they had taken advantage of an opportunity to come to the U.S. to work on the New Jersey shore and were visiting Grandmom and Grandpop for a week to meet the extended American family before going home to Ireland. Grandmom wanted us to take them out, show them a good time and give them a chance to spend some time with people their own age. Grandmom was funding the evening and had suggested dinner and a movie as the evening's program. Because there were two women (the "dates" were 21 and 22), Brian needed a second and I was elected. You don't tell your best friend no in these circumstances, so I asked where and what time we were going to do this.

Brian picked me up in his car (a 67 Chevelle) and we proceeded to Grandmom's house to pick up our dates. They were introduced to us as Maeve (the 22-year-old) and Bridget (the 21-year-old). Maeve was reasonably attractive, probably a 7 on a ten-point scale. Bridget was, to put it politely, Rubenesque. She was at least an inch taller than I was, even in the flats she was wearing, and had a figure that was almost triangular - narrow shoulders, a small chest, a belly, heavy wide hips and meaty thighs. She did have a head full of gorgeous red hair and beautiful green eyes, but even with those two features she was a 4 at best. Needless to say, Brian got Maeve as his companion for the evening and I got Bridget. She and I climbed into the back seat of Brian's Chevelle and Maeve joined Brian in the front seat. We headed off to the local Italian restaurant, which was the extent of fine dining in our little town at the time.

Our local movie theater was a one screen facility and was showing a Disney animated feature, which got a quick thumbs down from all four of us. However, the local drive-in tended to get features later than the theater and had just started showing "Summer of '42", which interested our companions, so we decided to head there after dinner. At Maeve's request, we stopped at the local beer outlet and she went in to purchase a couple of six packs. Neither Brian nor I had much experience with alcohol (I because my parents were teetotalers; Brian because his Grandpop's family had several alcoholics in the family tree and his parents had strongly discouraged him from starting down a path that might result in a similar affliction). We got to the drive-in just as it was getting dark, parked out on the edge of the lot, which was quite crowded for a weekday evening, and went off to buy the girls some popcorn to go with the beers.

When we finally got settled in to watch the movie, Maeve slid over toward the driver's side of the front seat up next to Brian and Bridget slid over to passenger's side next to me, which allowed all four of us to see the screen through the windshield. Bridget's contact with me, my first real physical contact with a girl, was both anxiety producing and arousing. I liked having her lean against me, but was concerned about the reaction in my groin area that contact was producing. We cracked open a couple of the beers and drank them as the movie opened. Because of the August heat, we quickly consumed all the beers, wanting to drink them while they were still cool enough to enjoy. That turned out to be a very bad idea in retrospect.

As I noted previously, Brian was fairly experienced and it was quickly apparent that Maeve was as well. We weren't long into the movie before they began necking and then I noticed that clothing began to be loosened and breathing got heavy in the front seat. Bridget and I looked at each other for a moment, then she snuggled closer and I put my arm around her shoulder. Brian leaned back against the driver's side door and Maeve's head, disappeared, distracting us from the movie as our imaginations envisioned what we could not see. Both young ladies had worn loose skirts because of the heat and neither was wearing any hosiery. I realized this when I slid a hand down to Bridget's knee, then began rubbing her thighs higher and higher until I reached her panties, which I discovered were quite damp. After a while, Maeve's head reappeared, only to have her back pushed up against the passenger's side door and then Brian's head had disappeared into a world I could not imagine. The heavy breathing continued and Maeve was now making small noises.

After the action in the front seat disappeared behind the headrests the second time I turned to Bridget and saw anticipation and longing in her eyes. Although I'd never been on a date, I'd paid attention in health classes and had explored both "Playboy" and "Penthouse" magazines. I had a bookish understanding of how to please a woman, even without any experience at all. Bridget on the other hand was apparently less experienced than Maeve but perhaps a tiny bit more experienced than me.

Using my arm around Bridget's shoulder, pulled her closer to me, leaned over and kissed her. I got an enthusiastic response, as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer. We began French kissing, our tongues dueling in each other's mouths. After a bit of this, I put a hand on her breast and began massaging it through her bra and blouse. She moaned as her nipple hardened under my hand. I moved onto the other breast, discovering it also had responded to my touch. Without giving it much thought, I began to unbutton Bridget's blouse, reaching inside to touch her bra and the smooth satin skin on her stomach. With her encouragement, I reached around her back to unhook her bra. While I tried to unlock my first bra, we continued to duel with our tongues. I was so excited I could not be contained. I finally undid the clasp to lift the bra over her breasts. I moved my hands around to her nipples so fast Bridget's head hit the window kind of hard and broke the kiss. As I rolled her hard nipples between my fingers I began licking and kissing my way from her earlobe to her throat and then down to her now naked breasts. I flicked each one with my tongue and then sucked on them, one at a time, as I squeezed and gently pinched the nipple of the breast not in my mouth. I could feel her pulse race and she began to breathe heavily and her moaning took a new low tone.

With my lips enjoying Bridget's breasts and nipples I began rubbing her nether lips through her panties, increasing the dampness significantly. The front of her skirt had ridden up to her stomach, giving me access to the waistband of her panties. I slid a hand down the front of them, rubbing her clit with my fingers and then sliding the front down a bit to allow me to slide a finger, then two fingers, into her vagina. Her hips began to work up and down as I pushed my fingers in and out of her and I pushed her back onto the seat, laying her down and sliding her panties down her legs to provide easier access.

Bridget had been rubbing my cock through my pants and I was hard as only an 18-year-old boy can be hard. She now unbuckled my belt, unsnapped my pants and pulled down my zipper, reaching in through my boxers to grab my cock with her hand and began running her hand up and down it, using the pre-cum from the tip as lubricant. I slid her panties off one leg and pushed her knees up toward her chest, separating them and moving my body between her legs. She moved me up further between her legs and lifted her knees higher so my cock sat on top of her slippery vagina. This tilted her hips up and allowed me to rub my cock up and down her vaginal lips, using her secretions as lubrication. I slid back and forth, running the length of my cock over her and using it to stimulate her clit, which resulted in her working her hips up and down harder against me as she approached orgasm.

At this point, if I hadn't been slightly buzzed from the beers and thinking with the little head instead of the big one, I'd have realized that I was approaching a potentially dangerous situation. Bridget's and my motions had been in synch, which had prevented penetration, but she adjusted slightly, breaking our synchronization. Suddenly, my virgin cock was entering her vagina. Without recognizing what had happened because of the buzz, I pushed forward again as she pushed back against me. I felt a brief resistance, which gave way and left me buried fully in a warm, wet, tight tunnel. She gasped and then began to shudder, having reached orgasm, which triggered mine as I pumped 18 years' worth of accumulated sperm into her. She looked at me, panic stricken I think, and then began to cry softly. I began to soften and she squeezed me out. A combination of vaginal fluids and sperm dripped out and onto the back of her skirt, which was underneath her, catching much of what would otherwise have ended up on the seat.

Brian may not have been a Boy Scout, but he had clearly adopted their motto of "Be prepared!" Brian had apparently brought a condom (or several) in case things got interesting, but I hadn't even thought that there was the slightest chance of such an occurrence. He also kept a box of tissues on the flat above the back seat, which I grabbed and began using to wipe Bridget clean and then to clean up myself. To my horror, I discovered that there was blood mixed in with the other fluids dripping out of her.

Remembering my health classes, I was shocked but I had to ask. I whispered to her, "Bridget, were you a virgin?" Tearfully, she nodded "yes" and then began to cry. I felt the need to apologize and did. "I'm so sorry," I said. "If I'd known I'd have been far more careful. You deserved to have your first experience with someone you truly cared for, not some guy you'd only met that evening."

For some reason, that seemed to make her less upset. She looked at me and said, "I couldn't have asked for a better first experience. You were gentle and kind and I hope all my lovers in the future are as nice to me as you were this evening."

With that, we got our clothes back in order, slid over to the side of the seat and watched the end of the movie, our arms wrapped around each other. A few minutes before the movie ended, Brian and Maeve finally popped back up. I handed the tissue box to Brian and the two of them cleaned themselves up. We dumped the trash in a can near the car and took our two companions home to Grandmom's house.

When we got back to Grandmom's I slid out of the back seat and helped Bridget from the car. She leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek. As she did so, she whispered in my ear: "Thank you. You are the first man who ever paid attention like that to me. I'm not sorry for what we did and you shouldn't be either. I couldn't have asked for a nicer introduction to sex." With that, she ran into the house and Brian and I drove off. He dropped me off at my house. A bit over a week later we both left for college. Neither of us gave much more thought to that evening beyond recalling it as a pleasant event in our march to adulthood.

CHAPTER TWO

I had decided on a career as an engineer and my first semester at college proved to be a far more rigorous academic experience than the classes I'd glided through in high school. Even high school calculus and advanced physics were "gimmes" compared to the first semester of college engineering and physics courses. Despite the experience with Bridget, I was no more successful in my dating life that first semester than I'd been in high school. I spent most Friday and Saturday evenings in the library, studying. It didn't help that my roommate was one of the freshman studs and had regular overnight guests whom he entertained in our room. Until I put my foot down partway through the semester, I spent most Friday and Saturday nights sleeping on the lounge sofa while he bounced the bed with his latest conquest. We finally worked out an arrangement under which he either took the lady of the evening elsewhere or agreed to kick them out at midnight so I could sleep in my own bed undisturbed. We agreed that we were not compatible as roommates and worked out a swap with another set of roommates for the next semester. Ultimately the semester ended with better grades than I expected and I went home for the three-week Christmas holiday looking forward to the next semester's classes.

The semester break started shortly before Christmas and extended into the second week of January. I was home one weekday afternoon, thinking about packing for the trip back to campus, when the doorbell rang. As my parents were at work, my two younger brothers at high school and my grandmother (who lived with us) not well after a series of small strokes, I came down the stairs and opened the front door. To my surprise, there stood Bridget, a small suitcase by her side. A taxi was backing out of the driveway as I watched, uncertain what was going on. I was about to find out. It wasn't good news.

My mother had successfully instilled manners into me, if not having done quite so well with morals (at least in the arena where I had previously encountered Bridget). I asked her to come in, picking up her suitcase and placing it in the living room while offering her a seat.

Our conversation started off well enough, with my saying "I didn't expect to see you again. Are you visiting Grandmom and Grandpop for the holidays?"

Her answer floored me. "No," she said. "I'm here to see you. We're going to have a baby."

My response to this news was not well thought out at all. "Are you sure?" I asked.

Bridget replied, "I'm four and a half months pregnant. It happened at the movies when we made love in the back of Brian's car."

Ever the moron, I asked "Are you sure it's mine?"

She glared at me (understandably so) and said fiercely "You are the only man to ever touch me. Whose else would it be?" That was the moment my world crumbled, my future went from sunny to dark and I realized I was in deep trouble.

We talked at some length about why she was here. She had realized something was wrong shortly after returning to Ireland. She avoided dealing with the issue as long as possible, but finally told her mother, who was horrified. Her mother, in turn, told her father, a domineering ass. He was rigid and unforgiving man who threw her out of the house, calling her a whore, a slut, a tramp and a host of other vile names and told her to never darken the family's door again. Her mother had sent her to an aunt in Dublin. The aunt, Mary by name, was quite a bit older than Bridget's mother. She had been a nanny for a wealthy couple when the wife died giving birth to the couple's third child. Although nearly twenty years younger than the widowed husband, the two had fallen in love and had married, allowing her to raise his children and bear him several others, all of whom were grown and engaged in successful careers. The husband had recently died, leaving Mary the beneficiary of a series of trusts, making her a wealthy woman in her own right. Mary had taken Bridget in, and after keeping her a few weeks, had reached out to Grandmom for Brian's parents' contact information. From them, she had gotten my address and schedule. After discussing how to proceed with Bridget, recognizing Bridget's father's temper and anger at Bridget's condition along with the prevailing social milieu in Ireland, Mary had purchased Bridget's ticket to the U.S. to allow her to confront me personally with our mutual problem.

Fortunately for me, my brothers were both engaged in winter sports teams, my mother had an appointment after work and my grandmother was sleeping, as she often did. Thus, the first person to arrive home was my father.

He found the two of us sitting in the living room. Unsurprisingly, given my complete lack of dating experience, he was somewhat taken aback to find a young woman with a suitcase sitting in his home. When the introductions were made and Bridget spoke for the first time, he was even more surprised to discover she had a distinct Irish accent. After a few minutes of small talk, I grabbed the bull by the horns. "Dad," I said, "there's something I need to tell you and you aren't going to like it one bit. Mom's going to like it even less."               I must give my father credit. He sat there looking at me expectantly but didn't say a word. He gave me a moment to gather my thoughts and then listened carefully to what I had to say.

"You might remember that last summer, just before we left for college, Brian and I took two of Brian's Grandmom's great-nieces out for dinner and a movie." He continued to look at me blankly, saying nothing. "We ended up at the drive-in and had a few beers." Silence. "Bridget was my date and we got along too well. She's pregnant with my baby."

This finally generated a response. "Pretty damn stupid of you, son. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. Bridget's family threw her out and her aunt sent her to America to find me. She's Catholic, so she's not going to have an abortion (abortion was still illegal in Ireland and most of the U.S. at this time) and she doesn't want to give our baby up for adoption. I will take responsibility for this. I think we should get married." This last sentence generated a gasp, but not from my father. It was Bridget who responded so strongly. We hadn't discussed this option at all.

At this point my father made clear that we were going to discuss this in more detail when my mother came home. He did point out that I had no degree, no real job skills and no way to support a wife and a baby, particularly a wife who couldn't legally get a job anywhere. With that, he left the room, leaving the two of us alone.