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Beebe and Petey Ch. 04

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The summer of 1971 was a shining, soaring, pulsing mountaintop of discovery, love, sex, and friendship, and it ended way too soon.

The excitement began in early May when Chad, Dene and I discovered love and sex. Friends forever, we had swapped stories about our budding adventures, kissing and feeling up (or being felt up by) other people, but had never tried it with each other. Chad and I finally admitted we loved each other and that quickly led to claiming each others’ cherries. Then Dene and I shared an erotic kiss, mainly by accident, and followed it up with full-on girl-girl sex and very nearly got caught in our very first act when her parents got home a little early. (The garage door sounded an early warning, and we recovered our clothes and composure just in time!)

We were aided and abetted by my sister Jan who not only let us read a book that had EVERYTHING about every kind of sex you could imagine, but let us use her house for our lovemaking while she was at work!

If it hadn’t been so close to the end of the school year, Dene and I would have probably flunked out because of the enthusiasm we poured into exploring our new world of sex! I spent every minute I could at Jan’s house, alternating trysts between Chad and Dene. Unfortunately, Chad’s grades did suffer, and that brought lifelong consequences that we never expected. More on that later.

Things moved quickly that May. It was already summer-warm in Corpus Christi, TX where we grew up, and my first time with Chad was outdoors on a picnic table! Reading Jan’s book, we worked on something new almost every week through the end of the school year.

First up was Chad’s ability to screw me long enough to get me off before he popped. His first do-it-yourself technique was to jack off before we planned to get together so he could last longer after he slid his dick into me. That changed when we first tried and then worked to perfect blowjobs. I had already discovered cum wasn’t gross to lick. I learned that the first time Chad blew a load on me. The book assured us that cum was safe to swallow, and outlined techniques for blow jobs. For a couple of months, THAT became our first item of business–I’d give him a blow job, swallow the cum, and then gently suck him back hard again. He loved it, I loved it and Dene always wanted me to report on how much of a load her big brother shot into my mouth. That first load was always a pretty good mouthful, and the stream had significant force to it. In fact, the first time I kept him in my mouth while he came it didn’t go so well. His first semen blast “went down the wrong pipe.” I choked and pulled away, and like a loose fire hose his dick continued to pump streams in random directions. I got a few squirts on my face and hair while I coughed violently. What a mess. Chad started thumping my back to help, not knowing what else to do. We ended early, changed Jan’s sheets, did laundry and took showers without going any farther that day!

Undeterred, we worked on timing. Chad always warned me–verbally at first, then with taps or squeezes. It didn’t take long before I could read the signs well enough and his warnings were superfluous. That helped his ability to last, and I continued to have my opening orgasms from licking his pre-cum while he fingered me. Getting a vaginal orgasm from fucking just wasn’t happening at all, though, much less getting off at the same time like people did in “Letters to Penthouse.” If we got him off with a blow job first thing, Chad could pump me for 10 minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, and although I got close, I just couldn’t seem to get over the top. I’d give him a few minutes to rest, then guide his hand down to my pussy and have him get me off with his fingers while he kissed me deeply, nibbled my ears and sucked my nipples. We discovered that when I got close, sucking one or the other of my nipples hard enough to be almost painful would light me up and send me screaming over the top–a very useful bit of knowledge! Chad became as adept at reading my body as I was at his. The phrase “Practice Makes Perfect” became our motto. We could barely contain ourselves when an opportunity came up to say “Practice Makes Perfect” in the outside world. We absolutely couldn’t be looking at each other as we said that or we’d collapse in laughter and not be able to explain the inside joke. (And I do mean INSIDE–yuk, yuk!)

It took us a month to get into having a nice 69 as canlı bahis foreplay. That took some practice too. I was still having thundering orgasms when I’d see, then lick pre-cum from his dick. If I started sucking him before the pre-cum appeared and didn’t see it first, I didn’t have the same reaction. What we settled on was showering together and letting soapy hands get us hot, then moving to the bedroom. Often, Chad would pick me up and carry me to the bed in the traditional “over the threshold” way, kissing my nipples as he walked. I’d close my eyes as he laid me on the bed and stretched out next to me in position to 69 and began licking me. Without opening my eyes, I’d rub the tip of his cock across my lips and almost always feel that silky pre-cum already beginning to rise. It made me hot as hell, but I (usually) didn’t cum then. We were both, by then, getting good at reading signs of an incipient orgasm in the other, and with enough practice we COULD get off at the same time that way, and usually very quickly. I always swallowed his cum, and discovered that I had different reactions to that before and after I came. Leading up to my orgasm, and especially during it, I absolutely craved his hot load in my mouth and swallowed every squirt as it flowed. If I peaked before he did, it was OK but it wasn’t as hot. Chad said the same thing about eating me out, especially when my pussy juice was really flowing. When he was good and horny, and especially while he was cuming, he’d suck out and swallow every drop and wish it would never end. As soon as he came, though, it wasn’t so much a primal urge anymore. He’d finish me off if I hadn’t had mine yet, but more out of politeness. He was always, thank goodness, a very polite fellow! The 69 foreplay became a permanent part of our sex time the rest of our lives.

There were a few things we tried and rejected. The book had a whole chapter on anal sex and we explored that. We liked having maybe one finger joint wiggled in our assholes, but it took so much effort to overcome the revulsion at kissing and tonguing there that we only tried it a couple of times before putting it aside. Chad thought my pussy was plenty tight, and said he didn’t need the extra squeeze that my asshole might provide. That was fine with me. Likewise bondage didn’t do it for us. We didn’t like either side of that process, having or yielding power. From the very beginning, we operated on “making us even.” You see, we always wanted to be partners in sex. Fucking wasn’t just something he did to me–it was something we did to each other!

Dene and I notice a change in our language. In the ’70s, at least in our circles, girls rarely said ‘fuck’, even without boys in earshot. Saying it produced either gasps or giggles depending on context. By ourselves, ‘fuck’ became ordinary and casual. ‘Having sex’ seemed too indirect and bland. Even if we were talking about sex between the two of us, we were ‘fucking each other’, rather than having sex. It didn’t matter that no dicks were involved!

Having the house to ourselves provided endless opportunity for experimenting. We determined to try every position in the book and did! In fact, we went back to the beginning and started over more than once, then made a “position jar” where we’d draw out the position of the day.

Our time was often “stolen” from our relatively packed schedules. School didn’t end until early June, so that was the biggest impediment. Homework SHOULD have taken our time, but that was often where we stole sex moments–taking afternoons and evenings that used to be spent on school work. Our past work ethic at school had put Dene and me at the head of our class, but we were working on a different kind of learning those last 2 or so months. Dene and I could and did coast. We turned in some sloppy work, clearly below our potential, but mostly got the benefit of the doubt. Our grades were strong enough to weather the storm; we even got scholarships!

Chad was a different story. He was exceptionally bright, but had a lot of trouble reading and especially with spelling. In grade school, he got tagged as “slow” and kind of adopted that self-image. Dyslexia wasn’t widely studied or accepted as a “real” problem, but that’s what Chad’s problem really was. If there was any writing involved, it took Chad ages to work through assignments that Dene and I could master in a few minutes. In high school, most of his teachers cut him some slack. Some bahis siteleri teachers were on top of learning disabilities, but most just wanted to have their star athlete end up with enough grades to keep playing. He got by with mostly Cs. Jr College, though, wasn’t as forgiving, and now his draft status depended on keeping his grades up. He had to be making progress toward graduating on time. His 2nd semester English Comp class was the killer. He had to write half his papers in class AND was marked off for spelling. To top it off, there was a 150 word spelling test that everyone had to pass to get credit for the course. He failed the class. It took a while for the impact to become evident, but it eventually did and it was life-altering.

I had earned a full-tuition scholarship to Rice University in Houston, but to my parent’s dismay elected to stay home and go to Jr. College with Chad in Corpus Christi. Dene had an athletic scholarship to Indiana University in Bloomington, IN, which might as well have been the end of the earth. There was no practical way at all to see her now, except on major holidays, and even that was a struggle.

I had discovered before the end of high school that I enjoyed sex with Dene as much as I did with Chad. That happened accidentally with a kiss intended as a quick peck from a friend. We were shocked when we found ourselves lip-locked, but at my sister’s urging, talked it out. “A good hearing is soothing to the soul,” some Egyptian Vizier said–and it sure was for Dene and me. We each admitted, with fear and trembling, that because that we liked the kiss it made us (gasp) LESBIANS. Being a lesbian in the early 70s carried a terrible onus. We were scared to death that we might be, or might have just accidentally become those pariahs. Jan assured us that wasn’t the case, and in short order, we were naked, in bed and making out like crazy–just like we did with boys. Well, except for the naked part, of course–Dene hadn’t let any boy get to third base with her. I hadn’t either until Chad and I went from zero to sex fiends in the span of a day.

For a week or two we would repeat that first encounter, stripping off, making out and fingering each other to an orgasm. Actually, I usually got off twice with Dene–once when she played with me, and once when I played with her, even when she wasn’t touching me. That really puzzled me the first time, but I figured it out the 2nd or 3rd time we were together. I had always loved Dene’s bush. She matured early and showed me when it started to grow. It was really thick. If she didn’t shave it, it trailed up to her navel and a little higher. It spread all the way across her pelvis and a little way down the inside of her thighs. It kept on going up her butt crack and trailed up to her waistband before thinning out into nothing. She had been keeping it pretty closely cropped because she was on the swim team, so except for how thick it was, it made a fairly normal pattern and kept itself tucked discreetly under her Speedo. As soon as swim season was over at the end of April (it lasted longer than the school swimming schedule–Dene actually went to state level competition in Austin) she let the bush reclaim its territory. The sight of it made me horny, and running my hand and wrist through it when I stroked her clit had the same effect as when I viewed, then licked Chad’s pre-cum. I had an orgasm! Even if I’d just had one from Dene’s now-expert fingers, I had another one touching her bush. Fetish number 2 revealed!!

We’d shied away from giving each other head in those first weeks. I knew Chad seemed to like going down on me, so I thought the odds were I might like eating pussy too. Still, neither one of us had tackled that last little bastion of non-lesbianhood. About week 3 or 4, though, curiosity got the better of us. Chad had passed along a genuine porn magazine he’d scored, and Dene and I, already stripped and showered, were reading it together. Well, OK–LOOKING at it together; there weren’t many words. There were girl-guy photo sets, along with two girls and a guy, girls with big tits just posing and one spread of a pair of girls working each other over. Most of the shots involved gaping pussies, swollen clits, and tongues darting in, out and around.

“Petey–you wet?” Dene asked.

“Yep–you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to try?”

(There wasn’t any guessing about what Dene meant–she wanted to try oral with me!)

“I’m bahis şirketleri not sure I can eat you, Dene.”

“Not a problem. I’ve got a real itch to run my tongue up your twat, lover!”

“Well” I said, smiling and rolling over, “c’mon in!” and I spread ’em.

Dene didn’t dive right in. She got on all fours and straddled me, kissing me gently at first, then with more passion. She moved to my tits and sucked my nipples, already puckered tight I loved her to do that! She let her tits hang down and ran her nipples around my lips, over my chest and tits, then down my thighs and back up. I’ve mentioned Dene’s tits before–they’re spectacular! By graduation, she was wearing a D-cup. She was in incredible physical shape, too. She swam 200 and 500 meter freestyle and 200 breast stroke. Her lats and quads were supremely sculpted and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her body, unless you count her tits. She grasped one of those tits now, squeezed it firmly and ran her nipple up and down my slit, circling my clit. It was exquisite–a new height for sensuous delight!

She began kissing me again, this time with her chest on my abdomen and her lips descending down my belly and to my bush. She still didn’t dive in! She kissed the inside of my right thigh, moving from the inner fold about half-way down to my knee, and then back up. She kissed my left thigh the same way and I began to quiver. Her bush was rubbing against my shoulder, close to my face–my lips. She kissed her way down through my bush and gently stroked my swollen clit with her tongue. Oooooooooooo. This was different than with Chad. They were both absolute delights, but different. I think we’ll keep this in our little bag of tricks. Dene moved on down, gliding her tongue up and down my inner lips and circling back around my clit. Each time she circled back up toward my clit, my thighs began quivering and she’d slide back away. Finally, she used her tongue to tightly circle the outer rim of my vag, and at last made good on her desire to “run her tongue up my twat.” She tongue-fucked me for what seemed like an hour before finally moving back up to my clit and staying there. WOWEEE! That one rivaled the first orgasm I had with Chad’s pre-cum, and that, at least to date, had been the most excellent orgasm anyone in the world could have ever experienced in all of history!!! We’re definitely keeping this deal.

I finally started breathing normally. Dene pushed herself back up and nestled in beside me, face-to-face and tits-to-tits. She kissed me lightly.

“So–was that OK?” She grinned.

“Give me 5 more minutes, and I’ll show you how it feels.”

“She did, and I did. I got a little distracted as I slid my cheek down her belly. The formerly shaved areas above her waistband were growing back, but weren’t quite soft yet. Longer than stubble but still a little scratchy, her belly hair fascinated me. I spent time caressing it, smoothing it, looking at it. Dene was getting impatient–she nudged the back of my head. I took the hint and went lower. Mmmmm. I laid my cheek over and nestled in her bush. My thighs and belly began to tighten and heat up. I rolled my head to the other side and nestled in with the other cheek, then gently pulled apart her labia and mimicked her tongue-circuits around my inner lips. I reached under her thigh with one arm and slipped two fingers up her very juicy pussy and sucked her clit into my mouth. I pulsed the suction on her clit, pulling it into my lips, then letting it slide out, over and over. Dene groaned. I felt her abdomen beginning to tighten and quiver–a sure sign she was hovering on the edge of an orgasm. She didn’t hover long–she let go with a scream, lifting her pelvis into my face and holding my head in place.

And thus our incredible love affair went to afterburners!

The summer–my time with Chad–felt like it could go on forever. Without even a proposal or ring, we just assumed that as soon as we were out of school, we’d be married and spend our lives together.

I had given up my scholarship and switched my Fall Semester enrollment from Rice to our community college so I could stay with Chad, but then, suddenly, Chad was gone.

That English class finally caught up with him. He lost his student deferment, and because of his low draft number he was inducted into the US Army about half-way through the semester. While I was grinding through freshman intro classes, Chad, my precious BeeBe, was undergoing basic training at Ft. Bliss, which was the hell and gone across the whole state of Texas. Dene was in classes in Indiana, and I was miserable. I was sure it couldn’t get any worse.

–to be continued

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