Summary: A talented young man loses his virginity and finds love.
Keywords: MF, consensual, oral, pregnancy, SF
Version: 1.00
***********************************
STANDARD DISCLAIMER
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment.
It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT read any further.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this disclaimer attached.
Copyright (C) 2011 Jack Wellard. All rights reserved.
Steve
Chapter One - Alice
It is 1990 and a twenty-year old man is getting ready for work.
Just another average cloudy Tuesday; it seemed like an ordinary day. There were no thunderbolts, no booming voices from the skies, but this became a day like no other.
I turned off the light and left the bathroom running my hand across my freshly shaved face. "Smooooth, man" I murmured inwardly, thinking sultry jazz thoughts. My skin still tingled from the cold water I had splashed over my face to finish the morning's ablutions. Back in my room I looked for my after-shave cream, then I remembered that the last tube was completely squeezed out yesterday. No problem, I thought I should be able to get some on the way home from the office.
Breakfast done I put the cereal bowl in the sink and ran some cold water into it, I would include that with this evening's washing up. I slipped the strap of my backpack over my shoulder, adjusted it across my chest and left my house pulling on my cycle helmet. As always, I checked the tyre pressures with a quick press of my thumb and wheeled the bike to the roadside.
On such a grey day there was no sun to dazzle me or the crazy drivers who didn't seem notice cyclists even in perfect light! The previous day's wind had dropped and riding was easy. Wriggling through the stationary traffic on the High Street I made faster progress than the cars with their fogged up windows and loud music. Waiting at the second traffic lights I saw an old lady opening her shop – set back on the wide pavement. I hadn't previously noticed this shop, I guess I was usually too keen to beat the cars away from the lights. Today the lights seem to stay red forever.
As the old lady positioned an advertising board on the pavement to attract customers, two youths slipped into her shop while her back was turned. As she went back into the shop I heard a scream. I was never the hero but on this morning some sort of instinct took over. Lifting the front wheel of the bike up the kerb I pedalled hard towards the door. One of the youths, his hoody still tight around his head rushed out clutching a handbag. Without thinking I rode straight at him. His legs tangled as he tried to avoid this yellow clad silent missile. As he hesitated I slewed the bike hard into his legs, he crashed against the shop front and fell. The other youth ran out of the door, in his hand was a wad of money. I could hear the old lady's shouts as my bike continued its arc and took the legs of the other thief from under him.
Almost as though in slow motion I saw the hand holding the notes swinging upwards as he struggled to regain his balance. My own arm took on a life of its own as my hand stretched out and just lifted the money from his fingers. Still moving at freeze-frame speed my leg stretched to trip the first youth as he resumed his quest for freedom. His arm swung the handbag towards my head. My free hand instinctively moved towards it and managed to tangle into the strap before it thumped the side of my cycle helmet. The robber, now off-balance decided to let go of the bag and escaped in the opposite direction to his comrade-in-arms.
I stepped free of the bike, slipped an arm under the cross-bar to carry it into the shop, one hand full of money, the other still gripping the handbag. The slim old lady was just emerging from below the wooden counter, white-faced and dishevelled but smiling at the sight of her fluorescent hero.
"Are you OK ma'am?" I asked. Silly question but it seemed appropriate.
"I'm fine, young man but how are you?" She replied looking concerned. Despite her recent encounter with the local low life she seemed remarkably perky. As I handed over the cash and her bag she sighed "How very fortunate that you were there to help me."
With an old-fashioned ker-ching she opened the ancient till to replace the cash, stowed her handbag under the counter and moved towards me.
"You need some attention to that wound." She said, pointing to my leg. In the excitement I hadn't actually noticed, but I must have become tangled with the bike and probably got spiked on a brake lever. In the few seconds while I examined the blood-stained rip in my jeans she had gone into the back room and returned with a tiny white glass jar.
"Trousers down and let's try some of this on the damage." She commanded.
Without a thought I unbuckled my belt and pushed down my faded blue jeans. There was blood oozing from a gash on the upper inside of my right thigh. The old lady pushed my legs apart and carefully opened the little jar and touched one finger into the pure white cream. She delicately applied the ointment and the wound appeared to begin healing as though it had never been there. While I was watching this amazing cure my cock slipped out through the slot in my boxer shorts. She grasped it, looking up and smiling.
"That's a sight for sore eyes, young man! A little beauty has come to see me . . mmmmm, nice and warm!"
"Sorry . ." I blustered. "I didn't realise that might happen. 'Little' is rather appropriate though. I often wish it was a bit bigger!"
"Mmmm" She said, gently squeezing my errant penis. "It seems to be growing already!" She smiled as she rubbed some of the cream still on her finger around my cock.
Almost as quickly as she had taken hold of my penis she released her gentle hold and eased it back into my boxer shorts. It still seemed to be growing; I imagined it was just yet another youthful erection. The pleasure of being touched by someone else was a very rare experience for me.
The old lady peered at the wound, or at the place where it had been.
"That seems fine." She said with a smile. "All better now. Pull up your trousers please." Raising herself elegantly into a standing position she looked into my face, cocked her head to one side and continued. "You are my hero!" Her smile lit up the shop. "What can I do to repay you for your bravery?"
"How about a nice cup of tea, while I fix my bike?" I suggested.
I heard the kettle being filled and switched on almost as I said the words. She came returned from the back room. "No problem young man; that will be my pleasure. How do you feel after this morning's incident?" She asked.
I was examining the bike thinking I would probably have to take it home and get the bus to work. "Oh I'm fine thanks Mrs . . er, I'm sorry I don't know your name. It's a great shame these kids get into the situation where they have to steal. I wish they could come back and apologise and maybe explain why they picked on an old lady. Oh, sorry, Mrs . . er I didn't mean to . ."
She was chuckling. "That's OK, just call me Alice. I know what you mean and I appreciate your concern. Now, what does a pair of those trousers cost these days?" She ker-chinged the till and pulled out two twenty pound notes.
"Will this cover it do you think?" She enquired as she offered the cash.
"Really no, Alice. Look, these jeans are quite old and I'm sure they only cost half of that in the market anyway." I was embarrassed to take any money but she ignored my negative response and laid the notes on the counter. She disappeared towards the back of the shop as the kettle boiled and I returned to inspecting the bent bike.
As I leaned the machine away from to try to assess the damage there was a knock at the door, it opened and the two hooded youths shuffled in! Something in their demeanour averted my first fear that they had come to complete their failed robbery. They stood quietly inside the door saying nothing. As Alice came in I suggested. "Gentlemen should remove their headgear in the presence of a lady." Without a word they pushed their hoods back revealing their young faces. As they looked at me I realised I still had my cycle helmet on, I un-strapped it and pulled it off smiling "That goes for me too!"
That eased the tension and we all relaxed a little. The boys almost competed to say the next word as they began to apologise, looking anxiously from me to Alice. They claimed they had never done anything like that before and that they were really sorry. I had to give them credit for coming back and actually volunteering to apologise. I felt that they were genuinely repentant.
"Why don't we all help to clear up the mess for this lady so she can open the shop properly?" I suggested.
They were more than willing. The younger boy carried cycle tools in his bag. He quickly adjusted my bike back to order and smiled as he returned it to me.
The taller of the pair was making a good job of re-stacking the shelves, even taking care to keep the labels facing forwards and lining up jars and bottles neatly in straight lines. I think he must have worked in a supermarket in his spare time.
When they were finished I shook their hands. "OK lads, stay out of trouble – pay attention in school and always do your best, OK?" Did I really sound like my grandfather?
They smiled apologetically, nodded, apologised again to Alice and pulled up their hoods as they left the shop.