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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.

What If: Vol 3-9

Leeway

Since our first kiss,

beyond our present brand of kissing

which still excited me almost

beyond comprehension,

I did,

I did hold myself in close check.

At this time, however,

wanting to be prepared if there should be,

—and I certainly hoped there would be a repeat of,

minimally,

 what happened on the previous Saturday—

I thought of ways to do it and,

being rather inventive,

using good old Yankee ingenuity,

using tiny safety pins,

I pinned a piece of absorbent fabric

to the inner side of my left pocket

—because my penis,

for some reason,

always seemed to go to the left—

and when things became too hot to contain

—even if Susan said she didn’t mind seeing—

I was able to avoid the embarrassment of her

seeing the results of my eruption

simply by adjusting my

blotter-like pocket.

This change in our physical love caused

me to love Susan,

if possible,

all the more

because now there was a sexual intimacy

I knew no one but I had had had with her.

Besides, still true to his word to God,

it gave him a sexual release by other than his,

or truly,

anyone else’s hand.

January 19, 1952

Through May 24, 1952

 On the next Saturday,

 this night on the front seat of the Buick.

Growing tired of moving his hand

and honesty no longer minding if he

did touch her there,

actually wanting him to touch her there.

“Okay,” Susan declared,

“you can hold me here,”

 pressing his hand to her left breast.

 “But only over my clothes!

Not under!”

Adding sternly,

“Do you understand me?”

“Over your coat, too?”

I asked.

“No,” she smiled,

“not over my coat.”

Oh, God!

“Yes, Sue! I understand.”

Putting his mouth to her mouth,

putting his hand onto her stomach…

But now that he’d been given permission,

not knowing how to proceed,

feeling obvious and awkward,

hesitating, closing his eyes tighter,

becoming lost in their lengthening kiss…

Holding Susan’s breast,

feeling the weight

and warmth

and softness through her rayon bra

through her cashmere sweater,

Thank you, God!

What If: Vol 3-10

Cramming

In the two months

or so

since they’d met,

having not a doubt

that she loved him more than ever,

he was convinced that his future with Susan depended

—unequivocally depended—

on a college education,

even if that education was

for something as mundane

as commercial photography,

and still,

to this time,

she had not the slightest hint

he was anything but a B+ student.

Susan having been to the house

and having met his parents

now knew they

were far from what she considered as wealthy

and though disappointed,

loving him as she did

Susan had stated:

“We’ll make our own future together, darling.”

As for Susan’s parents,

having adjusted their minds

to the fact that,

so it seemed,

their future son-in-law may not be a doctor,

may not be a lawyer,

or, at the least, a CPA,

but because of his parent’s apparent wealth:

a home in Skokie;

and a privately owned,

successful business;

because of these materialistic things,

Susan’s parents lowered their standards

and did nothing to hinder

—in their minds—

their still chaste relationship

and were aware of

and did acknowledge  

the mutual love the two young people had for each other.

And besides,

they liked the young man:

he was courteous,

well-mannered

and showed exemplary respect to both of them,

and, they were sure,

to their daughter also.

And besides,

envisioning the appearance of a far in the future grandchild,

“Don’t those two kids look beautiful together!”

For her birthday

he gave Susan a monogrammed

white cashmere sweater,

took her to dinner,

and to see the movie ‘Moulin Rouge’.

“Whenever we kiss, I worry and wonder,

your lips may be near, but where is your heart?”

And the beautiful theme became their song.

Susan urged me to save money for a car

so when I did go to Rochester

I’d be able to drive home

whenever possible to see her.

So I began to put every spare cent into a savings account.

In an effort not to see too much of each other,

and possibly

—although it seemed impossible—

to grow tired of what we did to,

and with each other, and maybe

—more than just maybe—

to allow our passion to progress further

than Susan may want,

by Susan’s decree,

we  saw each other only on Friday or Saturday nights,

and then again,

usually,

during the day on Sunday.

Which was all right with me

because between school,

cramming for my

—oh, so rapidly—

approaching entrance exam,

and my part-time job,

with but one telephone call a night to Susan,

each minute of each break was spent

poring over my books,

and since meeting Susan in December,

five months ago,

I had spent every possible minute cramming for the exam.

To be continued

©February 24, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman