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Mark M Lichterman

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BECOMING 39: Oral Scene
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Thursday, November 18, 2010
Last edited: Monday, September 03, 2012
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Gina Glambos knew that she was not pretty, or even cute, but when she was with a boy, almost any boy, the boy usually treated her as though she were his bambina and the most beautiful girl in the world.

She loved the affection and closeness, but mostly loved the control the sexual act usually gave her. But she could not understand Mitchell.

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Covering his hand with both of her hands so the lady sitting next to her could not see what he was doing, slouching lower, Gina crossed her legs.


He felt the heat generated from her thighs and pubis…


And she allowed his hand to remain there… just long enough to realize that he’d reached his goal, then, lifting it over the armrest, putting his hand onto his lap, holding it there, “Later.” she whispered.




“Later.” Having whispering the provocative word, like the gloating fisherman who’d finally hooked an elusive fish, sitting back, Gina thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and also Mitchell’s squirming.


                           CAREFUL, VIVIDLY SEXUAL SCENE HERE 


Chicago, Illinois

June 18, 1949


“That was a great movie!


In the jammed aisle, pressed in the crowd of exiting people.


“Yeah, it sure was!”


Into the well-lit foyer.


“You girls hungry?”


Outside, beneath the brilliantly glaring light bulbs of the theater marquee.


“Yeah, Frankie, I could eat a cow.” Taking Mitchell’s arm, pressing it against her side, Gina tightened the slack on the line of the circling fish…


A somewhat fickle fish, because, again, Mitchell felt all eyes were on him, and on this girl. This girl that just a short while ago had actually looked pretty, but now, in the harsh, cold light of thousands of unfrosted light bulbs, Gina had, once again, been transformed into the sharp-faced, pale-skinned specter she’d been earlier and, pulling his arm free, bending down, pretending to retie a shoelace, the fish spit the hook out.


Walking four abreast on the wide sidewalk, flanked by Gina on the far inside and Mitchell on the far outside, Lisa and Frank walked arm-in-arm.


What’d I do wrong? Gina wondered. Did I hold him off too long?


She’d played the eternal female game any number of times in the past and it had always worked before: her, getting him—whoever the him of the moment was—worked into a state of sexual expectation, then she’d back away and play hard to get for a while, and by that time, usually, the guy would be completely subservient and willing to do anything she’d asked. Once, though, Gina had lost all control and had gotten it roughly in a dark alley, standing painfully wedged between a telephone pole and a brick wall. Even so, she had understood the boy’s uncontrollable need, and as frightening as it was, it was also exciting to know that she was the cause of that need.


This technique did two things for Gina: it assured her that she’d have sexual gratification—or at least the attention she so desperately craved—and also it eased her conscience over her often uncontrollable promiscuity.


Gina Glambos knew that she was not pretty, or even cute, but when she was with a boy, almost any boy, the boy usually treated her as though she were his bambina and the most beautiful girl in the world.

She loved the affection and closeness, but mostly loved the control the sexual act usually gave her. But she could not understand Mitchell.


Different from any boy she’d ever been with, from the moment she’d seen him, from the moment she’d been with him, she’d wanted nothing more than for Mitchell to desire her as she desired him.


In Lisa’s bedroom, after she’d finally been able to warm him up, before he’d gotten sick, she had been hot, much hotter than at most other times with most other boys.


Drawn to his unpretentious good looks and innocence, Gina knew that he was wholly inexperienced with girls because Frank had told her so. But even so, she found it hard to believe that any boy that looked as good as Mitchell wouldn’t have a dozen girls throwing themselves at him. Maybe they’re different where he lives. Nah, they can’t be all that different! But yet, Maybe so. Maybe they’re snobbish. Maybe he doesn’t realize just how good looking he is. Or maybe he really is that shy. Whatever the reason… Maybe, because he was not turned on by her, Gina was turned on by him, and by the time she’d finally gotten him undressed and, literally, into her hands, his strange-feeling penis had made her even more passionate. Gina had thought she had him panting in the theater, and she did, then. Now, though, it was as it had been when they’d first met. Gina had been reversed on: She was supposed to be standoffish with him doing the panting, instead, he was being standoffish and she was doing the panting. With Gina Glambos it was a game she was compelled to play.


With Mitchell Lipensky, as anxious as he was to actually see the genitalia of a girl, and, of course, to have intercourse, unlike the “any port in a storm” mentality of most other guys, on that day Mitchell Lipensky had discovered that he must have some semblance of affection for the girl. And at that moment he was not attracted to Gina, and, he thought, The girls I can get I don’t want. And, so he thought, The girls I want, like Amy Pearlman, I can’t get… So he thought, Sure, at Lisa’s, after a while I did want to fuck Gina. But I’d been drinking lots’a wine and got drunk and her tits and ass felt so nice and, God, the way it felt when she touched me… there. Sure, in the movie it felt great touching her tits. But she looked much nicer then… Wait a minute, what’s changed? Leaning forward, looking across Frank and Lisa to Gina, She looks real lonely, and—away from the harsh lights of the movie marquee—she don’t look so bad now, and we’re gonna be alone again. So, what the hell! And—well, maybe somewhat of an “any port in a storm” mentality, and—dropping back a step, crossing behind Lisa and Frank, “Hi!” he smiled at Gina.


“Hi!” Gina smiled back.



“Where’d they come from?” Mitchell asked, almost to himself, but loud enough for Frank, who was sitting next to him to hear.




In a White Castle, in a white room, eating hamburgers, munching on French fries and attempting to draw thick milk shakes through white straws, the boys were on one side of a white, plastic booth and the girls on the other.


Mitchell laughed.


“What’s so funny, Mitchie?”


“Gina, believe me, you wouldn’t wanna know.”


“Yeah, I would.” Reaching across the table, playfully punching him on the shoulder, “Come on!

What’s so funny?”


“You sure you wanna know? You won’t be mad?”


“Mitchie, baby, would I ever be mad at’j’ya?”


“Well,” hesitating as he looked into her lovely, blue eyes, “okay… Gina, you didn’t have ’em when I first met’j’ya. You had ’em tonight when I first saw you, but then you didn’t have ’em in the movie when you let me, uh, you know,” looking at her chest, “but you sure as hell got ’em now!”


“Mitch,” laughing, talking around a mouthful of hamburger, “what the hell ya talkin’ ’bout?”


“Frankie, look at her! You notice anything different?”


Frank and Lisa stared and, suddenly embarrassed, Gina blushed.


“Can’t you see?” Mitchell said. “Don’t you notice?”


Bewildered, Frank and Lisa shrugged their shoulders.


Pulling Frank’s head closer to his, covering his mouth, Mitchell whispered in his ear.


“Jesus, Mitch!” Laughing. “That’s what’s botherin’ ya?”


“Le’me in on it, guys! What’s so funny?”

“Gina,” holding laughter back, trying to look serious, “Mitchie don’t know how’s come ya suddenly got…” his laughter breaking through, “tits!”


“That’s what’s botherin’ ya?” Glancing about the room to be sure none of the other patrons are looking in their direction, reaching in her blouse, Gina withdrew her closed hand and, reaching across the table, “Here!” attempted to put her hand into his, but he hesitated. “Mitch, go on, take it! It won’t bite’j’ya!” She giggled. “An’ if it does, it’ll be the first time in history one of ’em ever did.”


“Okay.” Reluctantly loosening his hand, he allowed her hand onto his.


Opening her fingers, withdrawing her hand, the compacted pyramid of foam rubber, as though suddenly animated, sprung off Mitchell’s palm, did a somersault and landed, pointy-end down, into a blob of catsup on the corner of his hamburger wrapper.


“Falsies! Ain’t’j’ya never seen a falsie?”


Looking from the cone of pink foam rubber that was sitting in his catsup, up at Gina, then back to his hamburger wrapper, “Oy, gevalt! Falsies? They’re falsies!”


All eyes looked at the cone-shaped thing sitting amidst French fries and catsup…


Suddenly the entire table burst into a gale of laughter.


“Better bury the poor thing.” Lisa said, dropping a napkin over it.


Looking at Gina, whose chest was all but flat on one side and well pronounced on the other, “Better take the other one out; you look kind’a lop…” breaking into renewed laughter, “…sided.” Mitchell picked the falsie out of the catsup, wrapped it in a clean napkin and handed it to her.


“Yeah, thanks.” Reaching into her blouse, Gina removed the other foam rubber pad and, noting that he was watching her every movement, closely, put both into her purse.



“…Shit!” Pointing to the lit window on the third floor, “My ol’ lady’s home! Shit!”


Feeling his heart drop, as though confirming what he absolutely did not want confirmed, “Your mother’s home?”


“Yeah.” Looking at Mitchell, “They must’a let her outta the late shift. Shit!”


“Hey, I got an idea! Why don’t we go to the park?”


“Oh, yeah, sure, Frankie, that’s all I gotta do, is come home with grass stains all over this here white skirt! Goddamn ’er!”


Not merely disappointed, “There’s gotta be someplace we can go!” Actually, downright desperate, “Can we get together tomorrow?”


“Ain’t no place to go to on Sunday, Mitchie, less’n ya got a car. An’ anyway, I gotta go to church in the mornin’ an’ then I gotta go with my ol’ lady to visit her goddamned brother.”


“So, when’ll you be through?”


“Too late. We always stay for supper, an’ I gotta be dyin’ to get out of it. An’ even if I am dyin’, my ol’ lady has a shit-fit! Tomorrow ain’t a good day. Shit! When’r ya goin’ home?”


“Tomorrow evening, I guess.”


“You can always come back again another time, can’t’j’ya?”


“Hey, Gina,” Frank said, “I got an idea! Why don’t’j’ya have Mitch walk you into the hallway? Lisa’n’me ain’t in no hurry.” Winking at her conspiratorially, he sat on a step. “Go on, take your time.”


“Yeah!” Sitting next to Frank. “Frankie’n’me’ll wait.”


“Yeah! Why didn’t I think’a that?” Taking his hand, “Come on, Mitch.” She led him up the steps, through the cracked, frosted plate glass door, to a dark alcove under the stairwell.


Anyone coming down the stairs or entering into the building would purposely have to go out of their way to see into the hidden alcove.


“It ain’t a nice cozy bed, but it sure’s better’n nothin’!” Rubbing her body against his body, putting her mouth to his mouth, the tip of her tongue brushed his lips, then met with his tongue… “Mmmm, Mitchie, you get a boner faster’n any one I know.”


Taking this as a compliment, which it was, “Yeah, thanks.” His hands, having found their way beneath her blouse, fumbled with the clasp of her brassiere, then thinking it too complicated, about to lift the cups over her breasts…


“Wait, Mitchie.” Reaching behind her back, unclasping the brassiere, Gina’s breasts fell free and instantly…


Oh, God! The double warmth filled his hands.


Pulling back a bit, “Wait, Mitchie, don’t wrinkle me.” Gina unbuttoned her blouse, giving him time to unbutton his pants and to work his engorged penis through the overlapping slit of his Jockey shorts and the fly of his slacks.


Coming together again, feeling him rigidly poking against her, “You ain’t so shy anymore, are you, baby.” They kissed and, holding him, playing her thumb over the still-strange spearhead of his glans, “Mitchie, I love the way your dick feels!”


No longer benumbed with wine, the touch of her cool hand on his penis exciting him almost beyond comprehension, tasting the taste of her flesh, touching his tongue to the hardened cone of her nipple, “And I love the way your tits taste.”


Kissing. Fondling. Tasting.

In the shadowy triangle of this hidden alcove, skinny, homely, Gina Glambos became the living incarnation of all the girls his imagination—and hand—ever allowed Mitchell Lipensky to make love to.


Lifting the back of her skirt and slip, reaching beneath the band of her underpants, he held the soft warmth of her buttocks, then stretching downward his finger touched the puckered orifice of her rectum, only, though, till he realized what it was he was touching then quickly, stretching further he touched, parted and easily slid his finger through the warm, very warm, wet, very wet lower furrow of Gina’s, “Mmmm, Gina!” vagina.


The taste of her breast, the feel of her wetness, the wonder of her touch combined to cause a burning urgency and he began to pump within the heavenly constraint of Gina’s hand, and…


Suddenly he was out of her hand and she slipped from his hand and, “Oh, God!” he stood perfectly still… savoring the erotically delicious draw and release pressure of her mouth, and the flicking play of her tongue.


Squatting, Gina’s thighs were spread and her vagina was open to her hand, and as the pressure of her mouth tightened and loosened over and around his penis, keeping time with the movement of her mouth, Gina’s fingers played over her clitoris and into the channel of her vagina….


Tight, loose. In, out. Up, down. Tight, loose. In, out…


Now! Oh, God! Now! He knew he was about to ejaculate and tried, feebly, to pull from her mouth, but…

Feeling his flimsy effort, knowing Mitchell was about to ejaculate, tightening her lips, increasing the draw and release pressure Gina pressed him harder against the wall.


“Gina, I’m…” All semblance of willpower gone, “Oh, God!”


Apart, spasm following spasm, Gina and Mitchell orgasmed together, till…


When nothing was left, when the orgasmic itch, tug and release in her ovaries subsided, when the flow of his semen stopped, when his blood-engorged penis softened and wilted…


“Whew!” Standing, “That was nice.” she said, then added, “J’ya like it, Mitchie?” Did I like it?


He didn’t know how to respond to “did you like it,” even if he had the breath to say yes, yes wasn’t near enough so, “Mmmm!”


Yeah, baby, ‘Mmmm’s right! An’ ya know what?”


His breath and sensibilities near normal, “What?”


“You taste good, Mitchie. Real good!”


That… stuff tastes good! he thought. That tastes real good?


“You taste good, Mitchie. Real good!” Was not the right thing to say to Mitchell because the thought of Gina swallowing his semen made him slightly ill and also, as his penis shrunk so then did his affection… Whatever affection he’d felt for Gina shrank along with his penis, and having absolutely no idea of how to respond to “You taste good, Mitchie. Real good.” So saying nothing, Mitchell buttoned his fly.


“Mitchie, I wanna tell ya somethin’.” She hesitated. “I don’t do that… you know, that, that I just did to you, with just any guy. I gotta like a guy a lot to do that to him.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “You believe me, don’t’j’ya?”


“Yeah, sure, I do” he said, but really didn’t. “Thanks for doin’, uh, it, with me.”


“Yeah, Mitchie, you’re welcome.”


“Look, Gina. Frank’n’Lisa’s been waitin’ for me an’ we’ve been in here kind of a long time an’ I better get goin’.”


Coming out of the alcove, he went to the door.




“Yeah?” His hand on the doorknob, he turned around.


“Somethin’ I been wantin’ to tell ya… I think it was real cute, you bringin’ that Captain Midnight ring so’s you’d have an excuse to get me into the bedroom.”


“Uh, it was really Frank’s…”


“An’ from now on, whenever I hear Captain Midnight on the radio I’m gonna think’a you. Ya know why?”


Captain Midnight had been off the radio for years, but, “No, why?” he asked anyway.


“’Cause you’re so good-lookin’ ya look like a hero, an’ you remind me of him… Captain Midnight.”


Not sure if a mere thank you was enough for this type of compliment, “Thank you.”


Standing on opposite sides of the hallway, Gina Glambos and Mitchell Lipensky looked at each other in the muted light of the cracked, frosted plate-glass door.


Wanting to say something, “Mitchie, I, uh…” starting to say something, instead, her face contorting as though she were about to cry, turning abruptly, running, Gina started up the stairs.


Listening to the hollow sound of her receding footsteps on the bare, wooden stairs, Mitchell suddenly realized that Gina had given him something… She’d given him…? Gina had given him an erotic, physical contact that up to this time Mitchell had only been able to dream of, and he knew that he would always remember this night, and this girl.


Also feeling a need to say something, “Gina, thanks!” Waiting for an answer, he heard the sounds of far off, receding footsteps, then silence, and a moment later the slamming of a distant door, and with the slamming of the door a deep sadness overtook him.


Trying to rid himself of this sudden depression, Well, he thought, I didn’t get fucked, an’ I never even got to see what a cunt looks like, but a blow-job ain’t too bad… An’, tweaking his ego, I remind her of Captain Midnight.


Forcing himself to smile, “Hi!” Mitchell opened the cracked, frosted plate-glass door.







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Reviewed by Annabel Sheila
And Mitchie is still a virgin!!! giggle....

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