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Mark M Lichterman

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Books by Mark M Lichterman
  What If: Vol 3-7
by Mark M Lichterman
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Mark M Lichterman
•  Elderly Woman
•  November
•  Words, I Need Words!
•  Really, What If
•  Sex Now
           >> View all 410

What if I never lied?
What if we parted in 1952 and never saw each other again... until?
What if we did meet again... sixty years later?
What if we never met in the first place?
What if?

Vol 3-7 can be found following Vol 3-6


What If: Vol 3-5



Her breath coming harder,


His breath coming harder,


Draping his free arm over her shoulder,

tentatively touching Susan’s breast

over her sweater.

Touching Susan’s breast

without Susan moving his hand

caused his heart and,


one other component to jump.


Gaining instantaneous courage,

stretching his arm even lower,

touching the cross seams of her bra,

thinking it an excited nipple,

his passion leaping even higher,

his mouth,

on her mouth,

opened even wider

causing his jaw to pop with a noise that,

in his head,

sounded as the shot of a pistol.



if Susan heard his jaw pop or

if Susan did not hear his jaw pop

she said nothing as…


Being allowed to hold Susan’s breast

along with her “excited nipple,”

the purposeful movement of both their elbows

giving him even more assurance,

giving him even more courage,

as he passionately rolled the seams of her bra

between his thumb and forefinger,

moving his elbow even harder,

even faster

and even deeper into and against the fissure between Susan’s thighs.


Said into her mouth,

 “I love you, Sue!”


Moving her elbow even harder,

even faster onto the straining bulge along the inner seam of his jeans.


“I love you, Mitchie!”

 she said into his mouth, as…




Gasping, “Mitchell!”

Gasping, “Susan!”

“Oh, God! Mitchell!”

“Oh, God!”

Oh, no!

Having built

“a head of steam”

because of too much

—as if for him there ever could be too much—

schnoogling, and

—but for one nocturnal emission—

no release,

powerless to stop it…

Oh, no!


His passion running out of space

having no place to go but…




In the throes of her own


unbelievably pleasurable orgasm,


not registering with Susan.

she did realize


something was wrong

because he’d stopped all movement.


suddenly the underside of her forearm

felt wet and a bit sticky.


“What’s wrong?”

 Lifting her arm,

Susan saw a widening wet spot

inches to the left of the fly of his well-worn,

well faded Levi’s,

and immediately thought that she was,


pushing her elbow a little too hard,

and that,


she broke something that was causing him to bleed,



What If: Vol 3-6



Susan knew the facts of life.


Susan sort of knew the basic facts of life,

but she knew nothing of penile ejaculation,

nor that it sometimes;


often came

—no pun intended—

when not intended,

 or, if you will,


—especially with inexperienced,

extremely hard-up young men—

and did not equate the sticky stuff

on the underside of her forearm,

or the darkening of his jeans,

with the male fluid component

necessary for the formation of human life,


“What happened?”

she asked in near panic

“That’s not blood,

is it?”


“No, Sue,” I said,

“that’s not blood,”

almost wishing it were..

“Excuse me.”

Annoyed at myself

and momentarily Susan,

I attempted to stand,

but as she was still lying across my

lap couldn’t.

“Sue, will you please let me up!”


Bewildered by his somewhat unfriendly attitude,

and also the,

whatever it was that was staining his jeans,

asking again,

“What’s wrong?”

sitting up, she moved aside.


Hurrying to the bathroom,


having no idea what to say,

“I’ll tell you when I get out.”


Still sensing the heat of her orgasm,

shaken by how passionate she was…

still was,


she thought of what she had been doing with her elbow,

and what he had been doing with his elbow…


He was touching my breast!

No boy had ever been permitted to do

anywhere near any of the things that

he had been permitted to do.


—most of all also—

Not only was I letting him do it

forgetting that it was she that had

invented and instigated the

“elbow job”

but I was doing it back!

And what happened?

Did he get sick?

Did I

once again thinking the thought—

break something by pushing too hard?

Is he,

God forbid,

hemorrhaging in there?

Going to the bathroom door,

knocking softly,

“is everything okay?”


Praying  my jeans would dry,

having taken them off,

I was holding them,

wet side up,

towards the air vent near the ceiling.

Still embarrassed,


Realizing I’d spoken curtly,

“Sue, honey,”

I said,

changing the tone of my voice,

“everything’s okay. I’ll explain,”

What the hell am I going to say—

“when I come out. ”


What If: Vol 3-7

Facts of Life


Knowing that…


Unless I hide in here for an hour

it ain’t going to work.

Further thinking,

May as well get it over with.

Pulling my jeans on,

coming from the bathroom,

seeing Susan sitting on the end of the sofa,

taking my jacket from the hall closet,

covering my semen stained jeans

I sat away from her.


Confused and hurt because he didn’t sit alongside,

“you’re not leaving now,”

she asked.

“are you?”


“Look, honey,”

I said,

“I, uh,

sort of had an accident.”


Looking at him blankly,


She questioned.


“Yeah. We were,

uh, very hot there,

you and me.”


“Yes,” nodding her head,

“we sure were.”


“Sue, honey,

when a guy gets too hot,

sometimes something happens…

You’ve heard the word…”

—the word ejaculation not,

as of yet,

in his mental dictionary—



“ ‘Come’?

Yes, sure.”

She said.

“Of course!”


Of course she has!

But in this context?

he could not believe that a girl

as innocent

as he believed Susan to be

could possibly

know what he was referring to.


“I mean like when a man and woman are,

uh, together…

You know, like…

uh, sexually,

and he’s got his,

uh,” pointing to his lap,

“thing in her, and he,

uh, comes?”


“Yes,” nodding her head,

“sure I know.”


“You know what I’m talking about?”

Looking at her closely.

“You’re sure?”


“Yes!” She said with annoyance in her voice.

When men and women make love:

have sex.”



Maybe she does know.

“Yes.” I said.

“I’m sorry,

but I can only hold it off so long then…

Sue, you made me so hot

I couldn’t hold it back!”


“And what I saw,”

touching her elbow,

“that was…?”



that’s what it was.”


Amazed that he was able to conjure the stuff up,

mentally snapping her fingers,

Just like that!

Blushing, “Know what?

she said,

“I’m kind of glad it happened.”


“You’re glad!


I find it damned embarrassing.”


“Because I love you.

And because I’m glad that you love me enough to do it,

uh, the way you did,

and not, you know…

So we didn’t do anything we would be sorry for.”


Oh, yeah.

I thought

Like I planned it.


To be continued

©February 17, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman

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Reviewed by Joy Hale 2/17/2012
Your ongoing story is wonderful and all of us can relate to the events you speak of. Isn't it wonderful to pass from the teen years of angst onto the level of manhood where these embarassing events need not occur again? A well developing story, Mark.

Joy L. Hale
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