Part I - Nathan
Everyone has their story – you know, the one they tell whenever there is someone new to hear it, especially someone they want to impress or shock.
Like my Uncle Jack's story of how he and Aunt Carmen met at the top of the Eiffel Tower because he "fainted" from his fear of heights and came to looking up her very short skirt.
Or Grandma Lillian's story of how she and her sister Maggie sucked and fucked the hired men every Friday night when Grandpa Bert was at his weekly poker game with Maggie's husband Hank.
Or how my twin cousins Lucas and Caleb learned everything they know about sex from their older sister Roxanne and her best friend Andrea, starting with an 18th-birthday party turned orgy – not that they tell that story to very many people though!
I could go on and on with these titillating little bits from my family's sexual escapades, but not this time. My name is Aliandre – this is my story, and I want to share it with you.
There's no way to avoid saying it, so I'll just spit it out. I was a goody-two-shoes – at school, I was the kid who got picked to be the teacher's helper, and the classroom monitor, and all those other deadly jobs that teachers think up to "reward" good students with. At home, I was mostly respectful and obedient and did what I was supposed to do.
But things are not always as they seem. While I didn't mind being good, it did seem to be a bit boring. I knew there were kids who were NOT respectful or obedient, and I wondered how they got away with it. Like most kids, I knew there was "stuff" that parents did not talk about to kids. Like, that boys and girls were different for a reason – I just didn't know the reason! I accidentally had my first orgasm the summer I turned ten – and played with myself until I figured out how to have one again. I'm happy to say that I have been addicted to them ever since. My fantasy life began at about this time, as did my fascination with erotic literature. I was, and am, an avid reader of any erotica I get my hands on. Most adults don't think that an 11- or 12-year-old girl is going to go rooting through their library looking for erotica, but I did. And I usually found something good.
We can fast-forward through most of my teen years – with a couple very brief steps on to the wild side, I was still a goody-goody virgin with an aching, wet pussy. There was one brief interlude when I was 13 when I acquired rather by accident a 16-year-old boyfriend with only one thing on his mind – and all of you know what that was! I have to admit that I was very curious as to what it would be like to let him have what he wanted, but he just didn't make me feel all hot and bothered. Just bothered, and not in a good way. The only real experience I gained was that first kisses should not be sloppy open-mouthed attacks! I still shudder at the thought.
I did a lot of baby-sitting during my high school years, and found that once the children were asleep and my homework was done (goody-goody, remember!) I was pretty much left sitting there with nothing to do but play with myself. Often there was some sort of sexy literature on the book case, and I always found it. One woman even subscribed to Playgirl; I was ecstatic when I found those! But I digress...
The best thing that ever happened during my baby-sitting teen years occurred late one summer night just after I turned 18. It had been a very long and boring, frustrating evening. Jennifer and Nathan's kids had been angels – as usual. They went to bed easily, and straight to sleep – no bother there. It was summer – no homework to do. And for some reason, I just couldn't find anything to read that "did it" for me. There wasn't even anything worth watching on TV in those pre-satellite days!
When at last they got home, Jennifer said, "Ali, I'm really, really tired. Is it okay if Nathan drives you home tonight? I'd like to just check in on the kids, and go to bed." She usually drove me home – she didn't seem to think it was right for her husband to drive a teenage girl anywhere alone.
But tonight was different, I guess. It was after 3:00 a.m., and I lived out in the country, about twenty-five miles away, so a ride was a real necessity. "Sure, I don't mind. It is really late." Even though I could smell alcohol on his breath, I figured Nathan had gotten them home safe, so it would be okay. Besides, I felt a sudden tingle at the chance to be alone with a real man; even if he was married, he was gorgeous! Tall, with dark curly hair, blue eyes, and a muscular body. Jennifer paid me, and said good night, and I left the house with Nathan.
We exchanged a few banal remarks as we got into his old truck – a 1966 Chevy with a bench seat, no seat belts and a floor shift that required real muscle to use. Then we didn't seem to have anything else to say as we headed out onto the deserted street. Then, at the stop sign at the end of the block, Nathan's hand brushed my thigh as he shifted gears. He laughed a quick, "Sorry about that, Ali!" as the truck came to a full stop.
I thought nothing of it – it happens, right? – and besides, like I said, he was pretty damn hot. As I shifted a little on the seat to make sure it would happen again, I said, "No problem Nathan."
And sure enough, when we pulled away from the stop sign, and out onto the highway, the back of his hand rubbed against my thigh again. I smiled to myself, and looked at him from under my lashes. He glanced over to see if I minded, caught me looking at him with a smile on my face, and quickly turned his eyes back to the empty road ahead, looking for the turn-off that led further out of town. But he kept his hand right where it was, on the gear shift, touching me.
