The Life of John Smith Chapter 10 by John Smith 83

Carol and I did not immediately get back together. She persuaded our biology teacher to reassign us so we did not have to work together. She was assigned to work with Jeff, a jock. He was probably the sharpest jock on the team. My new partner was Andrea, a nerdy, boyish looking girl who was almost a straight A student and had recently transferred in from another school. So, neither of our grades suffered especially since I was no longer distracted by Carol.

I had to answer for skipping school. Mother refused to cover for me, so I was given four days of after school detention which meant, each day for the rest of that week I spent an hour in an after-school study hall. It did not seem like punishment since I had studying to do, and I was not missing out on anything.

I made several phone calls to Brenda to enlist her help to get Carol and me back together but each time she insisted I give her more time. More time turned into more than three months and for some reason as Summer progressed no one answered the phone.

Luckily mother arranged to get me a summer job at the local grocery store which kept me busy afternoons and evenings. I had to take mother to work at nine, goof off till one, work to five, pick up mother and take her home, eat and be back at work by six, and get off work at ten. Most of the time I bagged groceries. I noted that the pigs, that was the fat women, bought more prepared meals and ice cream. The hotties, that was the slender women, bought more fresh vegetables. When I was not bagging, I was pushing a broom. Not a mentally challenging job but I was sure on numerous occasions, had I pursued it, I could have had sex with numerous pigs and some of the hotties. Then there were the greys, that was the older women. Some of them would even give me their address, telling me they had work (wink, wink) for me.

One particular woman who looked like a hotty but was a grey with dyed hair by the name of Nancy Newman was more insistent than the others. She began coming in every other day buying one or two items and slipping me notes. Her notes were on flowered stationary with her name and address printed at the top. One day in July, before work, I drove by her place. It was a small house with a two-car garage. The garage was almost as large as the house. After receiving a fifth or sixth note insisting, she had some important work for me, I decided to head out to work a couple of hours early and stop by her house.

She answered the door in a bathrobe with her auburn hair wrapped up in a towel. “Excuse my appearance. Just now out of the shower, wish you had called to tell me you were coning,” she said as she gestured that I come in. I noted she looked a little older since she had yet to apply her makeup.

“Thought I’d come by on my way to work to see what you had for me to do,” I said.

She led me through her house to the garage. As she went, she explained, “My husband was a carpenter. Lost him in an accident nearly five years ago. He had a lot of tools. Thought if I could get them cleaned up, I could sell them.”

The garage was filled with tools, lumber, and other materials. They were haphazardly piled on each other. There was no room for cars. I looked at the tools. They look used but generally clean. “Won’t take much to clean these up,” I offered.

“What I was thinking was, with the good weather this time of year, maybe you could set them out in the drive. I could get a large sign made up and we could sell them right here,” she said.

“I’m off on Tuesday and Wednesday. I’ll come by next Tuesday about nine and see what I can do,” I told her.

“Oh, you are a god send. I see your name tag says John Smith. Can I call you John?” she asked. I consented, and she asked me to call her by her husband’s nick name for her which was Nanny.

On that Tuesday I took mother to work, telling her I had extra work to do, then went to Nanny’s. I started stacking the lumber in neat stacks on half of the wide drive and arranging the tools in the garage. Nanny kept interrupting me with lemonade and snacks. While I took numerous breaks, she told me she and her husband married young, had no children, and no brothers or sisters. “It was a few days after our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary that he fell on the job and died,” she said with a look of loss on her face.

I did the math: married young, maybe 17 to 20, plus 35 years of marriage, plus 5 years since his death, she was about 57 to 60. With her all dressed up, with makeup, and auburn hair, she did not look older than my mother who was about 40. The way she was dressed, I could see she had a body very much like my mother’s.

Before it was time to pick up my mother, I had things all arranged. She asked me to come by the next day to put up the sign she was having prepared. I was there about nine. She invited me to ride with her to the sign maker. He instructed me to drive its attached stake into the ground. The sign was clear and simple. It said: FOR SALE CARPENTER TOOLS & LUMBER.

We sat around and talked until noon and no one stopped. We were sitting down for a bowl of soup when a man in a pickup stopped and looked at everything. He offered her $50 for most of the lumber. She took it. I helped him load up the lumber and he told me he would be back for some of the tools. She sold tools that afternoon worth about $50 dollars. She insisted I take $50 dollars for my work. I told her that was too much. “Come back when you can and help me when you can but take the fifty now.”

I spent my mornings with her for the following two weeks and on a Wednesday about noon she told me to take the sign down. As I was stowing it in her garage she said, “Some of those men made me uncomfortable.” I asked her what she meant, she said, “They looked at me like I was for sale along with the tools.”

“You are an attractive woman,” I responded.

“Well, thank you John. And you are growing into an attractive young man.” I thanked her, and she asked me to have lunch with her. As we finished eating, she said, “You know there was another reason besides the tools that I invited you here. I hope you don’t run out of here screaming when I tell you.”

I wondered what she was about to tell me; that she killed her husband or that she barbecued young men and ate them. She did not make me wait long. She said, “Five years is a long time to go without a man.” She paused. I was sure what was coming. “You know…my husband took me to bed almost every night and… what is it the young people say? Screwed my brains out.” She paused again, then asked, “John, will you come to bed with me?”

Because I had thought about this and because I could never spend time with any women without thinking about it, I reached for her and we embraced with lots of tongue. I felt her breast against my chest and she thrust her pelvis toward the bulge in my pants. She pulled away and I saw the tears steering from her eyes. I tried to kiss them away, but they kept flowing. “They are tears of joy John. Come,” she said as she led me by the hand to her room. The room was large than most bedrooms and had an over sized bed.

There, we quickly undressed each other. Soon I was looking at her naked beauty. Her breasts were not large, but they were beautifully formed with only a hint of sag. Her belly was flat, her waist was slim, and her hips flared just right. Then I noted the thick white mat of curly hair on her lower abdomen above her pussy. “Don’t look at that. I should have shaved it off, but I kept telling myself that I would never build up the courage to ask…” I silenced her by taking her in my arms and kissing her. That soft mat of curly hair was now pressed against my hard dick and he did not care what color it was. All he knew was it felt good.

Soon she was laying on the bed and I was determined to eat her pussy until she begged me to fuck her. As I started to do down on her she called out, “No, no John. Don’t go down there and leave me with nothing to do. Give me your tool.” Tool? I thought, oh, that’s what she calls a dick. I turned so my tool was near her face. She took it into her mouth and I dove into a sweet and sour taste. When I questioned her later about her unique taste she told me she regularly rinsed with vinegar. I told her I loved it. “So like my husband,” she commented.

When I felt the first hint that I was about to cum, I told her. She took my dick out of her mouth but continued to gently stroke it. I kept eating her pussy and she began to moan, sometimes loud and sometimes soft. Soon she said, “Time to fuck the brains out.” I kept working on her clit. “Fuck me now!” she shouted. I turned and allowing her to guide my dick into her vinegar flavored pussy. I asked her if I needed a rubber and she laughed, “No John.” It only took me a few minutes and I was emptying a big load of cum into her deepest recess.

We repeated this activity with very little variation every Tuesday until the end of August when she suddenly said, “John, do you have a girlfriend?” I told her I did. She asked, “Have you fucked her brains out yet?” I told her I had not, and she said, “You should and I’ll find someone else to satisfy my needs.”

Mother was up and down all summer. I learned to leave her alone on her down days, but it was her down days when she was in danger of having a drink and she did come home late a couple of times. It became easy for me to recognize her up times. When she was up, she was talkative, smiling, and ready to satisfy my sexual needs. I do not know what I would have done without her that summer, but I suspect I would have found a way to survive.

It was the first day of our Junior year that Carol and I met and said, “Hi,” to each other in third period where we found ourselves sitting next to each other in Beginning Typing. Almost immediately I asked her if she wanted to eat lunch together. “It will be nice having lunch with you again. Yes, today we will eat lunch together,” she smilingly said.

At lunch we sat opposite each other at one of those bench tables. You know, one of those like picnic tables that have a single plank seat on each side. She was much less talkative than she used to be. Our conversation started off a little awkward.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Fine. And you?” she asked.

“Fine.” We ate a little. “What did you do all summer?” I asked.

“In the middle of June my mom and I went to Cincinnati to visit my Aunt Sally,” she said.

“Cincinnati, Ohio?

“Yes.”

“That’s why when I tried to call you, there was no answer,” I said.

“You tried to call?”

“Yes, many times.”

“We were back by mid-July, but then my dad took us to San Diego to visit my grandparents for a couple of weeks in August,” she said.

“You were a world traveler.”

“What did you do all summer?” she asked.

“Bagged groceries at the Grocery Barn.”

“You bagged groceries at Grocery Barn? Wish I would have known. Would have come by to see you.”

“Why didn’t you give me a call?” I asked.

“I don’t know…busy or…guess maybe…because I didn’t hear from you, you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“I did talk to your mother a number of times.”

“Yes, I know. She told me how you convinced her you were good enough for me,” she said.

I wondered how much her mother had told her. I asked, “Did she convince you?” At that point I thought that her mother may have told her too much about what I had had to do to convince her because a strange look appeared in her eyes. The bell rang and we each went in different directions for our next class.

The last period of the day found us both arriving in Chemistry class together with the same teacher we had had for biology. We met at the door, where Mr. Robertson was standing assigning seats. “Miss Martin, you will be at table four. Mr. Smith, you are at table one.” I looked to Carol and she shrugged. I went to table one and found that table four was directly behind table one. I noted that there were two stools at each of the fifteen science tables and soon I found I was sitting next to Andrea. She had come in when my attention had been drawn to the fact that Jeff was again sitting next to Carol like he had at the end of biology class.

Andrea had prettied up a lot during the summer. In fact, I barely recognized her. She no longer looked boyish like she had in biology…she was all girl now. She was still quite short and slender, but with curves of a young woman. My mind reeled with the fact that Andrea, who the year before seemed more like a boy, was now a very attractive young woman. I greeted her, and she said, “It will be nice working with you again.” While the teacher was assigning other students to their tables she went back to Carol and whispered something to her.

I asked her what she had said to Carol and she whispered to me, “Asked her to introduce me to Jeff.” I thought, that will be interesting, tall stocky football player Jeff with little tiny Andrea.

Interrupting my thoughts, Carol leaned forward and said, “Hey you two.” We turned to her and she said, “Jeff and I are going for burgers after school, want to come along?”

Andrea said, “Yes, sure.” She turned and smiled at me.

I looked from her to Carol, wondering if Carol expected me to drive. I asked, “Who’s driving?” thinking that maybe Jeff was driving.

“I am,” she said

I asked, “You’ve got a car?”

“Yes, I have my mother’s Mustang,” Carol said.

Feeling flush from my summer job, I said, “I’m buying.”

As soon as the last bell rang, I told Carol I had to run to my locker. Andrea said she did also. Carol said, “Okay, meet us at the pink Mustang?” It puzzled me when she immediately turned to Jeff, grabbed his arm, and they began quietly talking as they headed to student parking.

As we rushed to our lockers, Andrea said, “Thought it would take Carol weeks before she introed me to Jeff.”

“You interested in Jeff?” I asked, again thinking of the big football player and tiny little Andrea.

“Yah, who wouldn’t,” she confided. I thought, not me. We arrived at our lockers which were close together, so I waited for her as she applied some lip gloss. On the way back through the school to student parking she asked, “Did Carol and you get back together?”

“Today was the first time we’ve talked since last spring. Don’t think we are exactly back together.”

As we approached the Mustang, Andrea said, “Wow, that is hot pink!” At that moment I was struck dumb because Jeff, in the front passenger seat, and Carol, behind the wheel, seemed to be involved in an argument. As soon as they saw us approach, they stopped talking. “Looks like the backseat for both of us,” Andrea said.

I opened the back door and Andrea slid across the back seat to sit behind Carol. I sat behind Jeff who was looking straight out the front window like he was trying to ignore Andrea and me. Carol turned and looked at me. I noted she looked quite sad. She said in a strained voice, “John, me and Jeff have been seeing each other off and on all Summer.” I sat there in stunned silence. After a few moments, she continued, “Still want to go for burgers?”

I was in shock, but I found my voice and was able to say, “Yes sure.”

Carol turned and started the engine. I felt Andrea’s hand touch the back of mine. Needing comfort, I turned mine to grasp her tiny hand in mine. I looked into her searching deep blue eyes. I realized this was the first time I actually had seen their deep blue color. A look flashed in those eyes that said, I feel for you. Still looking into my eyes, she said, “Jeff, I thought you had football practice.”

As he turned to answer she looked at him. “I got an injury last week. Might be out all season,” he said. They continued to talk about his injury, which sounded serious, but my thoughts raced through scenes of Carol doing with him all those things she and I had done and more.

Everyone ordered the cheap burgers and a soda. I paid for them. We ate and they talked. I do not think I said a word. When Carol started to drive us home, Andrea said, “Drop me off at John’s house.” I was a little surprised and a little upset because all I wanted to do was be alone.

When we hopped out, Andrea grabbed my arm and hugged it tight, quietly saying, “Walk me in like I’ve been here before.” When I unlocked the door and Andrea walked in ahead of me, I glanced and saw Carol still in the driveway looking at us. As I closed the door behind us Andrea said, “Pay back, now Carol knows how you feel.”

Standing there in the kitchen I said, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. I probably would have…I don’t know…”

“Not gone for burgers,” she said as she looked up at me with those deep warm blue eyes and I wondered if my grey eyes looked as cold as my mother’s did when she was feeling sad. “When she told you she and Jeff had been…” Instead of finishing she moved in and gave me as big a hug as her little frame could give. I was on the verge of crying, but I was able to keep it to a single sob. I did not want to cry in front of her. She softly asked, “Do you have a couch we can sit on?” I led her to our living room. Holding my hand, she sat in the middle of the couch and pulled me down beside her. She scooted close and hugged me. I hugged her back.

Soon we were kissing. Comfort kisses at first, with her murmuring pleasant sounds like a caring mother comforting an injured child. After I began to get mature thoughts about this young lady, I felt her tongue touch my lips. All thought of everything had left my mind except sweet Andrea. We remained on the couch for a long time. She giving comfort, and me feeling she was the most wonderful girl I had ever held. Of course, me being who I was, I began exploring her delicate little body. She seemed reluctant to let me, at first. But as I persisted her resistance disappeared. Soon I had her breasts exposed to my view. Her tits seemed much larger than they really were since she was so small. They were not more than a handful but fully formed with hard erect nipples. I could not resist kissing, licking, and sucking them. She moaned softly and held my head in place.

We must have spent a lot more time there on the couch than I had thought because suddenly I heard mother call, “Johnny, are you here?” I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen to give Andrea a chance to get presentable.

“You didn’t lock the door,” mother said as she headed to the bathroom.

Soon Andrea appeared, fully presentable. I told her I would give her a ride home. “You don’t have to do that. It is not far.”

“My mother would never forgive me if I made you walk home.”

Mother came in saying, “Thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“Mother, this is Andrea Logan. Andrea, this is my mother, Elizabeth Smith,” I said.

“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Smith,” Andrea said.

“Andy?” mother asked.

“Andrea,” Andrea and I said in unison.

“Andrea. Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” mother said. Turning to me she asked, “Did you go to a grade school to pick this one up?”

“No mother, she is in my class in school, and my age!” I said with all the indignation I could muster.

“I don’t want you to go to jail for messing around with an underage girl,” she turned to go to her room.

“Mom, I need the car keys to take Andrea home?”

“Sure, sure,” she said, stopping in her tracks. I rushed to her to take the keys. “Get a second set of keys made so we don’t have to always hand those back and forth.” This surprised me because only a few months earlier she had refused to allow me a set of car keys.

Returning to Andrea I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She raised up on her tip toes to kiss me on the cheek. She could not quite reach so I bent down and kissed her on the lips. I glanced to see that mother had gone to her room rather than watch us. Pulling away I said, “Let’s go.”

The moment we were seated in the car I apologized for my mother. “That’s okay, I’m called Andy at home.” She gave me directions to her house.

“Actually, I was apologizing for mother’s little girl remark.

“I get it all the time. People are always saying, ‘You can’t be 17. You don’t look a day over 12.’ I have a 12-year-old sister who is as tall as me but doesn’t look a day older than 12.”

“You mean, she doesn’t have the boobs?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but I did not know how you would take it if I used that word.” she said. “You see in my family; all kinds of words are too offensive to be said.”

“Don’t worry, there are few words that I haven’t heard from my mother and others,” I said.

“Oh really, what are some of the other words that would not embarrass you?”

“Maybe, dick or pussy,” I advanced.

“You mean, cock or cunt?” she asked.

“I don’t know for sure but cunt sounds dirty,” I said.

“I know, like butt hole doesn’t sound as dirty as ass hole,” she said.

“Or like blow job and cock sucker,” I volunteered.

“I think we could go on like this forever, so why don’t we just agree to not be offended by any words. After all they are just words,” she said.

“Shit yes,” I said.

“Now that is fuckin’ dirty,” she giggled.

“We are a couple of potty mouths, aren’t we?” I asked with a chuckle.

“I haven’t been allowed to use those words. I think my mom would ground me for life if she had heard me in the last few minutes. My dad spanked my older brother a few years back when he said fuck after hitting his thumb with a hammer. Kind of feels freeing to speak like this with you.”

We promised to spend lots of time together, when I dropped her off at her large two story house on Indian Hill Road.

The next day before typing class started, Carol and I agreed it would be better if we did not talk with each other. When I saw her, I tried not to see her. It took me months to not think of her naked body or of eating her pussy. When I saw her and Jeff together, I would have thoughts of her sucking his cock, of him eating her pussy, or of them fucking. If Andrea was with me, she would take my hand and get my mind on her.

There was a rule at our school about contact between boys and girls. All physical contact was forbidden but most teachers looked the other way when a girl touched a boy to get his attention or like Andrea would do to bring me out of my thoughts of Carol. If any of the teachers or administrators spoke to us about our physical contact, it was usually a quiet comment which we both appreciated and respected. There was one teacher, the football coach, who always could disturb everyone in the room by shouting, “Get your hands off her, (boy’s last name.)” He would not even show the courtesy of saying mister. I waited for the day when Charles Butts touched a girl in the presence of the coach. It never happened.

We told each other about our families. She had an older sister and brother who had each married and started families. She had a younger sister named Susan who was 12 and a younger brother Sheridan who was 14. She loved to call him Sherry, especially when he called her Andy. She got along well with both her younger siblings.

One time she said that she had never had a date or boyfriend. “Maybe because I have always looked so young.”

I asked her if she wanted me to be her boyfriend and she said, “If I can be your girlfriend.”

One day I asked her what had caused her to change from her boyish look of last year to the girly look of this year. She said, “Last summer mom sent me to live with my Aunt Sally. She and I share the petite gene, as she calls it. It seems that there has always been a small girl in every generation as far back as can be remembered. She had married a normal sized guy and had two normal sized children. Anyway, she showed me how to be a girl and here I am.” She fluttered her eye lashes at me and those deep blue eyes seemed to say, come to me.

We spent a lot of time together, but we rarely did much in a sexual way. She would allow me to go for her tits but stop me from going further. I was beginning to think she was the one I would someday marry and spend the rest of my life with.

Through the next few weeks we shared all kinds of things. It was easy to share with her. I shared with her that I had fucked a couple of older women. I told her I had had hand jobs and blow jobs, that I had played with and eaten pussy. She did not seem to care with whom. She did say, “I’m amazed that someone who seems so innocent is so experienced. I hope that with all your experience I can measure up.”

One day when I was driving her home after school, she asked me, out of the blue, if I had ever seen my mother naked. I told her about mother coming home drunk several times and asking me to undress her and put her to bed. “Did that make you horny?” she asked. I said it did. She said she had seen her father’s dick a couple of times. “One time he was in the shower and it was all big and hard. He didn’t see me, so I stayed there and watched as he jacked off. That really made me horny. After that I saw Sheridan sleeping and I lifted the blanket. I took hold of his dick and it kind of grew in my hand. I wanted to jack him off, but I was afraid he’d wake up. That made me horny too.”

“Did you play with yourself afterwards?”

“You bet I did.”

“Talking about this is making me horny,” I said.

“I know, me too,” she giggled.

“Want to do something about it?”

“Sure, give me three choices,” she said.

“Okay, a.) We could watch as we play with ourselves, b.) We could play with each other, or c.) I could eat your pussy and you could suck my dick.”

“I… I’m not ready for c. I’ve played with myself but not while watching someone. Let’s start with a. I’d love to watch you.”

“Want to do it now?” I asked.

“I’m horny enough now but where.”

“We can go to my house.”

“Okay, as long as your mom doesn’t walk in on us,” she said.

“She can’t because I have to pick her up at work at five.” I turned at the next block and headed to my house.

“That’s good because I have to be home before five.”

“It usually takes me five or ten minutes to beat off. If I want to do a second time, I need about a half hour,” I told her.

“I just get warmed up in five minutes, but I don’t think I have ever lasted a half hour.”

I turned into my drive way and said, “Practice makes perfect.”