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Mark M Lichterman

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· BK1: Becoming; 1944#5

· BK1: Becoming; 1944#4

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· BK1:Becoming;1942 # 1 (Xrated)

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Sally, 1951: An R-rated Becoming Extract
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Saturday, August 09, 2008
Last edited: Tuesday, August 21, 2012
This short story is rated "R" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Mark M Lichterman
· BK1: Becoming;1944#7
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· BK1:Becoming;1944#3
           >> View all 957
Standing, without the slightest hesitation, she lowered her pedal pushers and panties to the deck, stepped out of both and, holding onto the guy wire of the mast, stretching her legs from side to side, standing above Mitchell’s head, her toes gripping the coping…

Becoming can now be purchased as a Kindle Ebook @ $4.95

 

 Sally 

September, 22 1951

Sliding his hand between their tightly straining stomachs, Mitchell moved it down… And Sally did nothing to stop him… Down, beneath the elastic band… Down, over Sally’s naval… Down, onto Sally’s pubic hair, and the touch of this being as a spark to his penis, but, No! She’s testing you! His upper brain said, No! His lower brain though, said, Yes! So yes… Down. Down onto the warm, My, God, so warm, so wet furrow, where…

Lost in a sea of passion, arching her hips, widening her thighs…

Oh, God! Mitchell moved his finger into the so warm, so wet fold, but… No, she’s testing me! And from somewhere within Mitchell’s conscience, wanting Sally to trust him, wanting to be true to his word—at least wanting to be perceived as being true to his word—forcing his lips, his chest, and, Oh, God, I don’t want to! his hand away, sitting up, concentrating, Mitchell looked at the stars in the sky, at the skyline of Chicago, at the dark outline of the trees of Grant Park. He looked anyplace but at this beautiful girl, because if he did…

“Mitchie,” confused, sitting up, taking hold of his shoulder, “are you okay?”

Taking a moment to muster his thoughts, “Yeah,” breathing heavily, “I’m fine, it’s just… Jesus!” Looking at her, “You make me so hot, Sal, I’d jump in the lake if I’d’a thought to bring a bathing suit.”

Realizing how close she’d just come to going all the way, relieved that she hadn’t. Relieved that Mitchell had the presence of mind not to go on. Liking Mitchell all the more because he did have the presence of mind not to go on… On the other hand, though, well aware of just how badly she wanted to go all the way, still feeling the surge of her lust, allowing it to come in the way of common sense, rationalizing, If he goes swimming he’ll cool off. But, once again chucking common sense, what she really wanted was, I’d love to see him naked. “So,” she said, making it sound more like a dare than an invitation, “why, don’t you?”

Not expecting her to say this, “Huh?” Not sure if she meant it, “Why don’t I what?”

“Do it if you want to! Go swimming!”

“Without a bathing suit?”

“Big deal! So what? Go swimming if you want to!”

“But I thought you didn’t want to go any further than,” motioning to her breasts, “that. And if I get naked…”

“I’m not going any further! God, I’m the one sitting here practically naked and you’re,” said tauntingly, daringly, “too bashful to even go swimming!”

Actually, rather excited by the idea, “Sally,” Mitchell asked, “is it that you want? To see me undressed?”

Oh, yes! “Why not?” she said, smiling, “You want to see me undressed, don’t you?”

Oh, yeah! Do I ever! “Yeah,” he said, “sure I do, but I’m a guy and I’m supposed to.”

“So you think because I’m a girl I’m not supposed to? It’s just that I’m not as, uh…” searching for a word, “as coy about it as other girls. Go on! I dare you, Mitchell! I double dare you!”

Still somewhat shy, the thought, though, of being wholly nude in front of Sally becoming more and more erotic by the second, “Okay,” he said, “but you remember that this was your idea!”

As there was barely enough room to lie face to face on the forward coping, standing, straddling her body facing her, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans… Stopping short of lowering them, he looked at her.

Sitting up on her elbows, staring, very obviously, at the bulge in his jeans, Sally’s tongue circled her lips, and when she realized he’d stopped, looking up, seeing him watching her, forcing a nervous smile, “So, you need help?”

“Nope.” Lowering his jeans and Jockey shorts to the top strands of  hair, he hesitated, then… Appearing to glow in the moonlight, Mitchell’s stark white penis, within its forest of black, sprung into full view and stood rigidly forward, just inches from her face.

What Sally had told him was true . She had had many dates and had allowed a few boys to fondle her breasts above her clothing, and one beneath her clothing, but she’d never allowed any boy the freedom she had allowed Mitchell. And yes, she had seen farm animals rut. But what she didn’t say is that if unobserved she would go out of her way to watch, and each time she did watch, of course, though in no way equating an animal to a human, the sight of the huge, thrusting member of a ram or bull would excite her, and while watching, well aware of her movement, rhythmically pressing her thighs together, she would masturbate.

On the occasion Sally had seen her brother nude she’d waited till the shower went off, then accidentally… Oh, yeah! She had opened the door and entered the bathroom. Standing in the tub, he’d been drying his back. His penis was flaccid, of course, and he chased Sally out of the room as soon as he overcame his surprise at his little sister accidentally barging in on him… But not before her mind’s eye focused on and recorded the sight of his dangling, uncircumcised penis.

Mitchell was the only boy she had seen fully nude with an erection, and he sure as hell wasn’t her brother, and as she stared at his penis Sally felt a surge of internal heat and, oh so wanted to touch it, to hold him, to feel him in her hand… and oh, yes, within her body, but was afraid that any movement on her part would bring about a chain of events that she would not be able to—or want—to stop, but, Oh, God! moaning to herself, tightening her thighs, feeling the familiar itch within her vagina… Sally was unable to restrain the compulsion, and so lifted her hand.

The moonlit night, the balmy air, and standing fully nude directly before this girl that at that moment, confusing lust for love, Mitchell felt absolute love for, and, “Oh, God!” the touch of her cool hand filled each molecule of his six-foot, 180-pound body with total desire and nothing, nothing, existed at that minute but Sally and, “Oh, God!” the sensation of being enfolded within her hand. With legs spread, with his arms hanging limply to either side of his body, laying his head back, with his eyes closed Mitchell faced the star-studded night.

Oblivious to the depth of her passion, Sally knew that were he lying beside her, at that time it would be her wanting—no, begging—him to do it, to go all the way. Engulfed by a craving that surged through her mind and body, in her need Sally was unaware that she’d begun a rocking motion… back… forward. Now, arching her head forward, holding Mitchell from beneath, feeling the weight of his scrotum and penis within the palm of her hand… forward… back. His horizontally-held penis but a lip’s—a tongue’s—touch away… forward… back…

Don’t come! Not in her face! But, “God, Sally!” Clenching his jaw, knowing that unless he did something then, right then, now, at that second! “God!” Not wanting to, Oh, God! Not wanting to, turning, pulling from her hand he stepped onto the coping and, with a spring that rocked the small boat, dove over the side… But it did not stop it, and the cool water on his hot penis reacted on his shrunken scrotum… causing an orgasm that, Oh, God! bordered on pain.

Mitchell’s movement, so swift, left Sally’s hand hanging in mid-air… Then it dropped onto her crotch, where she rubbed the material of her pedal pushers over the silky wetness that had saturated her rayon panties… “Mitchie?” When he didn’t break water, panicking, “Mitchell, where are you?”

There was a splash and a sharp, sucking intake of air about twenty yards away… Swimming back, grabbing onto the coping, pulling himself up he hung onto the boat by the undersides of both arms.

“Whew!” Leaning over the coping, “You are really something, Mister. Do you know that?”

Looking at her, not understanding her meaning, “Me? Something?”

“Yeah, baby.” Mitchell’s passion may have been spent, but Sally’s sure wasn’t. “You’re beautiful.” Smiling, she kissed his wet nose.

Handsome, maybe, but beautiful being a word reserved for girls, and Sally’s straightforward attitude confusing him, “Beautiful? No, Sal, I just stood there like an idiot.” Below her, her dangling breasts inches from his face, his eyes going from Sally’s face to her breasts and back to her face, “You’re the one that’s beautiful.”

Hot! Still sensing the itch within her vagina, “How’s the water?” So hot!

Shaking his head, spraying her, “Great!” he said, and never expecting her to, added, “Come on in!” But…

Standing, without the slightest hesitation, she lowered her pedal pushers and panties to the deck, stepped out of both and, holding onto the guy wire of the mast, stretching her legs from side to side, standing above Mitchell’s head, her toes gripping the coping…

With Sally’s legs to either side of his head, Mitchell saw her painted toenails, the swell of her calves, the, Oh, God, I’d love to feel my face between them! smooth roundness of both thighs, the twin, Oh, God, under-swells of the—remembering his thoughts on that first day as he’d watched Sally running down the hall—half-moons of her buttocks, and there, within her spread thighs, there, within a sparse mat of moisture-flecked, golden-hued pubic hair, there, barely visible in the bright moonlight and the moon’s reflection on the still water, Mitchell saw the puckered orifice of Sally’s anus, and her furrow, and, Oh, God! her hanging, blood engorged vaginal lips, and—shame he didn’t know what he was looking at—the thin, rounded sheath that housed the female equivalent of his penis, and—if only he knew—the excited, protruding nodule that peeked at him from within the sheath….

Cocking his elbows, holding the smooth, hard backsides of her calves, though he could hardly pull his eyes from the sight of Sally, this sight—this sight that he’d wanted, so it seemed, all of his life to see, and wanting a complete picture embedded within his memory, the camera in his brain clicking, clicking, forcing his eyes from Sally’s spread-eagled underside, he looked up…

Now, here, on this balmy, moonlit night, standing wholly nude above this boy, standing as he had stood, within full view, for some reason beyond her comprehension, excited beyond comprehension, at this moment confusing lust for love, standing, posing, wanting him to look, wanting him to see, Mitchell’s looking caused… Oh, God! Sensing yet another surge of readying fluid, Sally vaguely wondered if it was running down her thighs because of his looking at her—at all of her—excited Sally Brockman beyond logical comprehension.

Pulling his eyes from the underside of Sally, looking at the front side of Sally from beneath…

Sally had well-rounded buttocks and a not-too narrow waist—that she fought to keep from becoming more well-rounded, and from becoming more than not-too narrow—standing as she was, pulling it in, her stomach was concave and, rather than drooping—which they did—standing as she was her full breasts and the air-and excitement-puckered nipples went with the pull of gravity and hung, tauntingly, downward, and…

From the position of the boy looking upward from beneath, Sally’s breasts appeared to be standing straight forward and the whole of her was so beautiful, so voluptuous, so erotic, so much the girl that he had always dreamt of—that he had always fantasized over—that, unbelievably, within mere minutes of ejaculation, Mitchell had, once again, achieved a full erection.

Standing as long as she felt she could without becoming too obvious—which in fact was no more than thirty seconds—diving over the side with a spring that also rocked the small boat, Sally swam a number of strokes, took a deep breath, went beneath the water, swam back to the boat and groping blindly, oh, yeah, pulled herself upward, against Mitchell’s body, purposely feeling his—of course having no idea that he’d already ejaculated—resurrected penis. “Hi!”

Hanging onto the coping with her right hand, he with his left, each free hand gripping the other’s buttock, wet, cool breast to wet cool breast, they kissed…

Feeling the probing between her thighs, angling upward, “Ummm!” she pulled him inward, as…

Reaching further behind, and beneath, touching the cleft of her vagina, “Mmmm!” penetrating the cleft, two fingers easily entered the, oh, so slick, so wet warmth…

Sensing his touch. Sensing this boy’s touch where no boy had ever touched before. Knowing this boy had penetrated where, and what, no boy had penetrated before… But loving his touch, loving the feel of his finger—fingers—within her and wanting more, wanting? Wanting, needing to go all the way, buoying herself upward, buoying herself higher so that Mitchell might be in position to… Straining upward, now holding him, moving closer, straining to be in position so he could angle upward, so his penis could enter her vagina… Closer, but…

“Sally…”

Feeling, loving the feel of her hand holding him but, “Sally…”

Hanging onto his father’s boat with their bodies submerged in the tepid water of Lake Michigan, Mitchell knew that here, now, that he was going to do it! That he was going to be within the body of a girl! Within Sally’s body! Just a second away but, “Sally…”

Whispered softly, the cause now was not nearly as noble as it had been a few minutes ago when he’d turned from Sally and dove into the water because, If I knew you were this rich, Mitch, I’d have gone all the way and make you marry me, Sally’s words came to mind. And also, a small portion of his brain, his upper brain, began to function and he thought of the coin-pac prophylactic that had been embossing the leather of his wallet lo, all these many years. And as much as Mitchell thought he loved Sally and so desperately wanted to feel his penis within her, he was not sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her if he should make her pregnant. And also—her legs now wrapped about his waist—Oh, God I want to! Straining into her body, as he was straining he was not too sure that his penis—being what he considered to be of average size—could actually penetrate her vagina in this position, and besides, and even less noble, being held as he was being held, pulling him into her—his lower brain once again in full command—Sally’s hand wrapped around his penis felt so good, and the thought of being there, right there…

Waiting, her eyes were closed. Wanting, Oh, God! Wanting him within her, tightening her legs about his waist, holding him, guiding him…

Sally’s hand wrapped around his penis felt so good, and the thought of being there, right there… Sally’s vaginal lips within a second, an inch, from closing over and around the head of his penis…

But…

God, I’m going to…Straining upward, sensing her soft cleft on his hard flesh, knowing he’s there, really there… Uh, oh! No! Not again! Unable to hold it back, Oh, Damn! Hesitating, “Sally.” Not wanting to tell her that he’d…? “had an accident.” Hating himself for ejaculating this way. Yet, in a way—the coin-pac prophylactic still in his wallet—relieved that he had, taking the high road, the noble high road… “Sally… no!” Pulling away, “Let’s stop, now!”

“Mitchie?” If Sally had been experienced, if she had any experience, holding him as she had been holding him, she possibly would have felt his penile contractions, but, her eyes opening, focusing, “Mitchie?” Mitchell now holding her full, boyant weight, the fingernails of Sally’s other hand digging into the soft flesh of his buttock, attempting to pull him back, to move him into position, “Why?”

“You don’t want to do this!” His breathing ragged, “I know you don’t! And I know if you do you’ll be mad at yourself, and…” this he knew was true , “and me, later.”

Realizing what he was doing. Realizing what Mitchell was doing and why she thought he was doing it, “Mitchie,” knowing how close she’d come to breaking her vow to herself and, more importantly—most importantly—to her God, even though, at that moment not sure she really meant it, “Thank you!” she said, doing her best to sound grateful. “Thank you!”

 

…In bed that night, Mitchell thought of Gina, Ina and Sally, the three girls in his life that he’d had the opportunity to have intercourse with.

Sally was, by far and away, the most beautiful of the girls and the only one of the three that he’d even liked, let alone—once away from the sexual situation—thought he loved, and in bed that night he had misgivings, terrible misgivings: How the hell’s a guy come twice in just a couple’a minutes? Why the hell’d I do it? But okay, she thinks I stopped and kept her from screwing because I didn’t want her to because of what she told me about her reason for not wanting to do it, so she even likes me more now for stopping her so we’ll be together again. Yeah! I’ll call her in the morning and ask her if I can pick her up to talk to her and then I’ll ask her to go steady again. Yeah! We’ll be together again, lots’a times, and I’ll keep the rubber handy and then we’ll do it. Yeah!

Sally’s sexual thermometer down, way down, away from the boat, the moonlit night, the balmy water of Lake Michigan and, most of all, Mitchell, thinking of what she’d done, remembering everything—everything! Thoroughly embarrassed! Actually feeling the heat of it, blushing intently, thoroughly embarrassed by her wanton actions, My God! I stood there naked… naked! Just stood there with my legs spread with him looking up looking at me… there.

Embarrassed, and a bit frightened by the sexual power Mitchell seemed to have over her, blaming him for her passion, Sally Brockman vowed to never go out with Mitchell Lipensky again.

  Not understanding. Though he pleaded with her for weeks…

Sally won’t, and didn’t.

 


 

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Reviewed by m j hollingshead 6/8/2014

interesting read


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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