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Mark M Lichterman

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BECOMING35:Vividly Sexual
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Sunday, November 14, 2010
Last edited: Thursday, August 09, 2012
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.

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On a vaporous cloud of discovery, having no idea what he was touching, thinking, Girls do got something! Mitchell felt as though his entire psyche was contained within the tip of his index finger, and within Gina’s slick wetness. And as he, with Gina’s guidance, touched the soft and the hard, the rough and the smooth...

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­­­­­­­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________________

He was about to move his hand downward, when…

Gina’s warm breath was on his face, and Gina’s mouth was on his mouth…

Tongue!

He felt the tip of Gina’s tongue push against his lips and, Green teeth! he clenched his mouth tightly.

“Mmmm, Mitchie, baby, ain’t you never Frenched before?”

Actually, no, and though her breath kind’a tickled and kind’a felt nice, his mouth remained closed against “green teeth contamination.”

“Mmmm, so bashful,” she whispered onto his mouth as, reaching downward, caressing the bulge of his penis…

“Ummm!” His mouth loosened slightly, and the tip of her tongue went just a bit deeper than it had a moment ago, and…

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chicago, Illinois

June 18, 1949

 

....Gina’s warm breath was on his face, and Gina’s mouth was on his mouth…

Tongue!

He felt the tip of Gina’s tongue push against his lips and, Green teeth! he clenched his mouth tightly.

“Mmmm, Mitchie, baby, ain’t you never Frenched before?”

Actually, no, and though her breath kind’a tickled and kind’a felt nice, his mouth remained closed against “green teeth contamination.”

“Mmmm, so bashful,” she whispered onto his mouth as, reaching downward, caressing the bulge of his penis…

“Ummm!” His mouth loosened slightly, and the tip of her tongue went just a bit deeper than it had a moment ago, and…

Obviously used to working backhanded, especially with a boy’s fly, his belt suddenly unbuckled, Mitchell felt the release of the waistband of his pants as the metal button was popped from its hole, and…

“Ummm!” Gina’s tongue moved another centimeter inward.

Another button and, reaching beneath the elastic band of his shorts, her hand encircling him, “Mmmm!” stretching upward, Gina’s cold touch on Mitchell’s warm penis all but, “Oh, God!” caused him to leave the ground.

So warm! So hard! she thought, and wanting to know how it felt, rubbing her thumb over the glans, Gina further marveled, So smooth!

No one had ever touched him there except himself, and, he supposed, his mother when he was a baby, but in a situation such as this the touch of his mother when he was a baby sure as hell didn’t count and, “Ummmm!” within the first infinitesimal second of feeling Gina’s hand wrap around his penis—What green teeth?—His mouth opened and their tongues found each other’s and, leaving the indentation of her navel in the flat hardness of her stomach—floating in a fog of red passion and Dago-Red, for him, the eroticism in this pitch-black room was…? Dream-like, so—I’m really going to touch a girl’s cunt! he thought on one hand, but on the other hand Mitchell simply could not believe that this was truly happening, that… I’m really going to touch a girl’s cunt! Now! Lowering his hand, his fingers touching the soft/hard protrusion of her mound…? He has pubic hair, but he’d never considered that girls might have hair there, too, and when he touched Gina’s coarse, surprisingly abundant mat of pubic hair, “Ummmm!” his penis jerked in his hand.

Feeling the spasm, Gina rubbed her thumb over the urethra, making the glans slippery with the minute droplet of semen that had seeped through, as, arching her hips, she turned her body to the side so that Mitchell might reach her easier.

Extending his hand, and still, having no idea what he was about to find, touching Gina’s labia, the fleshy lips felt as one and thinking, This is it? the remembrance of the thought, Girls got nothin’, came to mind and, not readily finding the chasm, rubbing the ridges of flesh between his fingers…

“You ain’t never touched a girl here before, have you?” Reaching under his hand, spreading her vaginal lips, guiding his index finger, “Yeah, baby!” Gina’s lips brushed his. “That’s how ya do it.”

On a vaporous cloud of discovery, Oh, yeah! Having no idea of what he was touching, Girls do got something! Mitchell felt as though his entire psyche was contained within the tip of his index finger, and within Gina’s slick wetness. And as he, with Gina’s guidance, touched the soft and the hard, the rough and the smooth, he was unaware that Gina was using him to masturbate, and that something he was totally unaware even existed, or that he was inadvertently fondling—her clitoris—was the female sensory equivalent of his penis.

“Mitchie,” whispering in his ear, taking her hand from beneath his underpants and both their hands from beneath her underpants, “get undressed.”

Oh, yeah!

Obediently, Mitchell kicked his shoes off, stepped out of his Levi’s and underpants, and pulled his shirt over his head.

As Gina bent to lower her skirt and underpants, he felt her hair brush his chest…

Suddenly they were in each others arms again, and for the first time in his life Mitchell felt the wonderful warmth of a…

Mitchell felt the warmth of Gina’s completely naked body against his completely naked body and, once again, “now” was so totally surreal that he had to remind himself, I’m really here! Now! Naked, with a girl! A real live naked girl!

He touched the outside of her thighs, then, bringing his hands upward felt the contour of her slight hips and, Oh, God! the firm softness of the outer sides of Gina’s compressed breasts.

Tits!

I’m touching real tits! Cupping Gina’s breasts in the palms of his hands, feeling their soft, warm weight, he squeezed the now-hard protrusions of her quarter-sized nipples between his fingers—that due to size and color were normally barely discernible, but when excited hardened and became tuberous to such an extent that the areola became all nipple and, as nerve strings run from nipple to uterus, as blood had engorged the erectile tissue of Gina’s nipples, so then did blood engorge the erectile tissue of Gina’s clitoris, and—holding her breasts, kneading her nipples, Mitchell instinctively, erotically, moved his lower body hard against hers, as…

Tightening her arms, Gina drew him to her, as…

Penetrating the juncture of her thighs, he felt the moist heat of Gina’s vulva and, barely able to contain himself, Mitchell ground his pelvis inward, as…

Feeling him there, sensing his urgency, very well knowing how fast it could end, and not wanting it to end now, this way, standing, “Baby,” she said, pushing him backward, “let’s lay down.”

Yeah! Lay down’s good! Back-stepping, he felt the edge of the mattress behind his knees and, as she was still moving against him, he fell onto the bed…

“Scoot up, baby.”

Scoot up, yeah! He did, and…

She’s there, caressing his penis; kissing him, her tongue… hell, her welcomed tongue was into his mouth and, lying face to face, his tongue was then into her mouth and not having to be shown the way this time, after but a moment or two of searching, his finger, parting the way, found its way deeply into her vagina…

Kissing, touching, fondling…

Breaking the long, saliva-exchanged kiss, lowering his head, finding a nipple, he sucked the hard cone of excited flesh into his mouth and, as if looking for mother’s milk, drew hard, bringing the coarse nipple, along with most of the soft flesh of Gina’s breast deeply within…

Coming up for air, thinking, Oh, my god! “Gina,” he said, “you taste so good!”

Having trained herself, never far from orgasm, this boy’s strange-feeling penis and his words further warming her, rotating her hips, taking his hand, positioning his hand where she wanted it, “Yeah,” she said, “that’s where it’s at!” Ambidextrously holding his hand with one hand and his penis with the other, tightening her vaginal muscle, moving her pelvis in syncopation with all three hands…

Gina was doing to him what he’d done to himself hundreds of times, only now the sensation of her hand holding him along with the knowledge, and the feel of his finger deeply into her so warm wetness caused an erotic sensation such as he’d never dreamt and, “Mmmm!” he moaned, “Oh, God, Gina!”

Fully aware of the pleasure she knew that she was giving to this handsome, though wholly inexperienced young man, “Yeah!” Gina was carried to yet another orgasm. But always ready for another, her one hand still holding his hand, her other hand still holding him, turning fully onto her back, unconcerned about pregnancy—having been lucky so far by using an American invention to kill sperm—a Coca-Cola douche—“Mitchie,” she said, “fuck me, now!”

Fuck me, now! The command traveled from his upper brain to his lower brain—although, actually, by that time, as his upper brain had taken residence alongside his lower brain, Mitchell no longer had an upper brain, and—the entire situation: Gina’s tits; Gina’s cunt, the touch of Gina’s hand on his penis and then, “Fuck me, now!” Oh, yeah! Never far from orgasm, Uh-oh! He did not want it to end then, that way, and, turning onto his back, too—as men and boys will often do in an attempt to hold off ejaculation—he tried to hold it off by tightening his sphincter, but, unfortunately, Uh-oh! without the help of his upper brain, his sphincter, not having all that much will power, “Uh-oh!”

Uh-oh? Knowing what was coming—no pun intended—“Uh-oh!” Gina felt the first heavy, warm drop splatter onto her hip, then another on her chest and even onto her forehead, as…

Giving in, closing his eyes tightly, stretching his legs, arching his pelvis; because these contractions were more intense than any he’d ever witnessed—except possibly when he’d ejaculated for the very first time—“Mmmmm!” moaning loudly because those contractions were stronger and sweeter than any he’d ever thought possible.

Beyond the splatters of semen, aware of his orgasm due to the feel of his spasms within her hand, going with the rhythm, ambidextrously continuing the cadence of all three hands, tightening and loosening the muscle within her vagina, within seconds she, too, orgasmed… again.

Sated… for the moment, not caring that he’d climaxed as he had, “Baby, you shot jizim all over me!” Gina said as a statement attesting to the strength of his ejaculation.

But not taking it as a compliment, “Sorry,” he said.

“Nah, s’okay, baby.” Her hands stopping all motion, “I d’mind, and we can screw in a couple’a minutes, after you rest up a little.”

We can screw in a couple’a minutes? These words spoken by a girl, by almost any girl, normally would have brought, minimally, a twitch to the penis of Mitchell Lipensky, but…

Things then began to happen.

Lying on his back in this ultra-dark room, the room began to spin.

Becoming dizzy, his penis, down-shifting from third to neutral, returned his body to upper brain control and, Ow, he thought, that hurts! as the pain in his bent wrist, that remained clamped between Gina’s thighs, became excruciating, and suddenly, simultaneously, a number of other things registered on his mind: He’d nuzzled a filthy, dirt-streaked neck, and not only did she kiss him, putting her tongue into his mouth, but he’d returned the kiss putting his tongue into her mouth… the mouth with green teeth!

Sitting up on the bed, pulling his hand from Gina’s now vice-like thighs, he heard a sickly wet suction sound and his hand felt slimy, and the room spun faster, and also, now, he not only remembered that big, spicy pizza, but could actually smell it and his stomach and head seemed to be keeping time with the spinning room.

Urp!” He belched, and the putrid taste of second-hand pizza and Chianti and homemade Dago Red came to his mouth.

Gacchh!

Sitting up quickly, “Mitchie, what’s wrong?” Gina moved to the far side of the bed.

“Feel, sick. Room’s spinnin’. Toilet! Got’a get to the toilet!”

Bounding off the bed, “Ow!” twisting an ankle on one of the shoes that either he or Gina had kicked off and, “Ahhh!” painfully stubbing his toe on the unseen wall and, “Ouch!” breaking a fingernail groping for the door and, finally, finding the doorknob he pulled the door open and, “Ai!” the brilliant daylight flooding the pitch black room stung his eyes.

Still on the floor, as were her Immaculate Heart blouse and brassiere that, as though pulled over her head, were rolled into a ball. Lisa’s pink underpants, with the quarter-sized hole, was twisted about one of her ankles.

Frank, poised atop Lisa with his penis planted between her chubby, outstretched thighs, had nothing on either, other than blue boxer shorts with little green turtles that were entwined about one of his ankles, also.

As Mitchell more or less fell out of the bedroom, Lisa shoved Frank backwards where he fell onto the carpet and into the leg of the coffee table and, grabbing her twisted blouse and brassiere, attempting to hide her breasts, Lisa left her crotch fully exposed…

Which could have answered one of Mitchell’s burning questions, except, of course, between trying to stave off vomiting and squinting into the glaring daylight, none of what he could have seen registered on him.

Holding his hands in front of himself, hiding the prophylactic that then hung from his rapidly shrinking penis, “Hey!” Frank yelled angrily, “you’re supposed to let a guy know when you come out’a the bedroom!”

A few strokes from ejaculation when the bedroom door had burst open, seeing Mitchell standing there, naked, looking at himself and Lisa, for some unknown reason excited Frank and even though he was angry and no longer had an erection, biting his lip to keep from showing what was happening, he, very strangely, ejaculated into the prophylactic, as…

Heedless of his nudity, rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust to the unaccustomed brightness and to get his bearings, fighting to keep the vomit down, “The toilet!” Mitchell said frantically, “Got’a get to the toilet!”

At six feet tall, Mitchell Lipensky was at his maximum, lifetime height. Though not fat, he was heavier than what might be considered best for his frame. Not being prone to muscle-building exercise or laborious work, he was far from overly muscled. His skin tone, except for the area covered by a bathing suit or pants, was deeply tanned, even that early in the summer. He had a prematurely hairy chest, and strong legs and thighs, which helped to compensate for the slightly excessive flesh of his upper torso. When in a state of arousal, his penis was what might be considered that of a man’s average size, but when flaccid it retracted into an over-abundance of pubic hair leaving only the glans and perhaps two inches of the shaft showing through curly, dark-brown hair.

Frank being the only boy she’d ever seen nude, and by that time thoroughly enjoying holding and looking at Frank, having a natural curiosity, seeing Mitchell, studying his strange-appearing, circumcised penis, she thought, I’m sure glad to have a guy like Frankie. Lisa mentally compared this boy’s flaccid size to Frank’s much larger, when flaccid, penis. But yet, seeing Mitchell naked made her warmly wonder, Wonder what he’d look like with a boner.

Lisa had also been but a second or two from orgasm when they’d been interrupted, and seeing this second naked boy made her want to be alone with Frank for just a little longer, but knew that that wouldn’t happen—at least for now.

Heedless of his nudity, rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust to the unaccustomed brightness and to get his bearings, fighting to keep the vomit down, “The toilet!” Mitchell said frantically. “Got’a get to the toilet!”

Pointing towards the kitchen, “In there!” Frank said.

Running down the hall, through the kitchen, into the toilet, slamming the door behind him, “Gaacchh!

Hearing his retching from two rooms away, never too shy, having seen each other nude any number of times, wearing only her blouse as she came from the bedroom, “Captain Midnight make it to the toilet?”

Not wanting to pull it off in front of the girls, leaving the hanging prophylactic on, hiding it beneath his blue boxer shorts with the green turtles, “Sounds like he’s pukin’ his guts out.” Always enjoying the sight of a nude, or near-nude girl, even a girl as familiar as Gina, looking at her as he pulled his jeans on, “What the hell’j’ya do to him?”

“Nothin’!” Stepping into her panties, “I didn’t do nothin’! We was just layin’ there, you know, makin’ out, an’ all’s a sudden he sounds like he’s gonna puke all over the place, an…”

Not quite as open regarding nudity as Frank and Gina, still covering herself as best she could with her blouse and brassiere, “He didn’t puke on my bed, did he?” Lisa said.

“Nah.” Looking over her shoulder to be sure Mitchell wasn’t on his way back, “It was too dark in there for me to get a look at it. J’ya see it? It felt kind’a creepy an’, like it was, uh, naked or somethin’.”

Buttoning his jeans, “Un, fesso!” Frank said. “You dummy! It was naked!”

Tucking her blouse into her skirt, “Yeah,” Lisa said. “I saw it.

“So,” looking towards the kitchen again, Gina asked, “What’d it look like? Like somethin’s been cut off?”

“Yeah, like you said, ‘it’ looked kind’a… shrivelly, like something’s missing. Don’t know why Jews do it.”

Listening to this conversation, Frank smiled to himself. If he didn’t know these two, he’d have never known that girls were interested in the same things guys are, and when he tells this to his friends, they don’t believe him.

The bathroom door opening, Mitchell came out… wearing a towel about his waist.

Embarrassed because he got sick, embarrassed because Frank and Lisa had seen him naked, and embarrassed because he had to walk through the apartment wearing nothing but a towel, but most of all because he’d screwed up his first opportunity with a girl, Mitchell said, “Whew! I guess it was just too much wine.” Smiling wanly, he went into the bedroom, closed the door and, with the exception of his shoes and socks, which he carried in his hand, came out a minute later fully dressed.

The others watched as, feeling self conscious, walking across the room, sitting on the chair near the window, putting his shoes and socks on, he said, “Sorry, I got sick in your room, Lisa.”

“Nah, it’s our fault for letting you drink that much wine.”

“Yeah,” Gina added. “We should’a known you was drinkin’ too much.”


Web Site: mmlichterman.com  

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Reviewed by Annabel Sheila 11/15/2010
...first encounters are rarely what one thinks they will be...but poor old Mitchie will never forget this one.....giggle....


Books by
Mark M Lichterman



For Better or Worse

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The Climbing Boy

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Becoming

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