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Mark M Lichterman

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What If: Vol 3-8
by Mark M Lichterman → (All Poetry by Mark M Lichterman)
   Rated "PG" by the Author.
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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 3-8 can be found following Vol 3-7

___________________________________________________________________

 

What If: Vol 3-5

“Uh-oh!”

 

Her breath coming harder,

faster,

His breath coming harder,

faster.

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,

minimally,

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.

 

However,

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…

 

Faster…

Harder…

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…

 

“Uh-oh!”

 

In the throes of her own

long-lasting,

unbelievably pleasurable orgasm,

“Uh-oh!”

not registering with Susan.

she did realize

however,

something was wrong

because he’d stopped all movement.

Also,

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,

maybe,

pushing her elbow a little too hard,

and that,

maybe,

she broke something that was causing him to bleed,

and…

 

What If: Vol 3-6

Premature

 

Susan knew the facts of life.

Well,

Susan sort of knew the basic facts of life,

but she knew nothing of penile ejaculation,

nor that it sometimes;

correction,

often came

—no pun intended—

when not intended,

 or, if you will,

 prematurely

—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,

 so…

“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,

really,

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,

Also,

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

and what he had been doing with his elbow…

Also,

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.

Also

—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,

“Yes!”

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…

thinking

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,

 “Accident?”

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?”

 

“ ‘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.”

 

Thinking,

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…?”

 

“Yeah,

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!

Why?

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.

 

 

What If: Vol 3-8

Innocent and Accidental

 

“Maybe we should promise.”

Susan suggested,

“to never let it go that far again.”

On the other hand,

thinking where she’d been touching him

and where he’d been touching her,

thinking of it

reactivated the itch in her vagina

and also, now,

also empowered with the power to…

If I can get him to ‘come’,

snapping her mental fingers again,

just like that,

and so long as he doesn’t touch me there…

at least with his hand,

and so long as I don’t touch him there…

at least with my hand…

Although, really…?

 

“No, Susan,”

well knowing this a promise he’d never be able to keep,

“we don’t have  to say ‘never’!

And besides,

believe me,

I do not want to go any further than just now.

And I would never go an inch further than you’d want me,

even if I thought that you wanted me to,

because I know you’d be mad at me later,

and I don’t want you mad at me, ever!

I love you too much for that, Sue,

and…”

Though they had never really discussed it,

both knew that marriage,

a distant,

far-in-the-future marriage,

was a very viable consideration,

and…

“I’m willing to wait for… it,

uh, that.”

 

That night Mitchell,

and his semen-stained Levi’s,

were long gone by the time

Susan’s parents returned home.

 

January 12, 1952

 

Having a full week to think about it,

the physical flavor of their,

by then almost,

nearly almost,

chaste relationship changed next Saturday when,

because her parents implicitly trusted the two,

the two were left,

once again,

alone to baby-sit,

when,

once again…

He, coincidentally,

took the same position on the sofa,

when,

once again…

she…

 

Discovering she had a heretofore hidden randy streak,

Susan took the same position on the sofa,

and Mitchell’s lap, and…

 

Yes, when he said it last week

he did mean it.

But last week he’d been embarrassed,

‘and’ his passion had been spent.

But on this night,

operating under a very revitalized head of steam,

though he’d told himself

I will not even try to go further than before,

then just touching,

or kissing… or,

or, most of all,

seeing what Susan’ll let me see.

Meaning, of course,

he dearly wanted to see her breasts, so…

 

Through trial and error:

he trying,

as she moved his hands from various parts of her body,

and moving his hand,

holding her hand,

from that one part of his body,

he’d been told…

“You’re in error,

if you think I’m going to let you touch me…

there!” Or,

“If you think I’m going to touch you…

there!”

 

 

But, true to her code of ethics,

just as she’d never touch him there…

with her hand,

or allow him to touch her there…

with his hand—

as much as Susan truly wanted him to,

and truly wanted to do herself—

she did allow the

“innocent and accidental”

laying on of elbows.

 

 

 To be continued

©February 19, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman

 

 

 

 


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 Reviews of "What If: Vol 3-8"
Reviewed by Joy Hale
Reviewed on February 19, 2012
Almost everyone has a similiar story to tell, but you make this scenario come alive for your readers, bringing us all back to the days of teenage angst and youthful experiments with the opposite sex. Excellent job!

Joy L. Hale


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