A "Becoming" Excerpt in sequence 

  Ina Dorfmann (R Rqted Be Careful)

August 18, 1950

Union Pier, Michigan

“Yeah she does! She’s got ‘great’ tits! But Ina? ‘Ina Dorfmann’!”

Pulling the raft ashore, they were sitting near water’s edge with their backs resting against the warm, rubberized canvas.

“Come on, Norm,” Mitchell argued, “she ain’t all ‘that’ bad.”

“Jesus, you really are hard-up. You know what this is, don’t you? It’s a, uh, what’ch’a’ma’call…” thinking, “a compulsion.”

“Okay, sure, call it whatever you want, but don’t it bother you?”

“That I ain’t been laid? Sure it does, you know it does. But when I do, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be with a broad like Ina Dorfmann.”

Two girls walking the shoreline approached from the north.

As the girls came closer, as though on cue, the boys stopped talking and, as boys do, appraised them.

One girl, the blonde, was short and chubby and beyond all consideration. The other, a familiar, deeply-tanned, pretty brunette, was tall and skinny, and if not for her knobby knees, would have no shape at all.

Evaluating both girls negatively, Norman and Mitchell waited for the girls to pass before continuing their conversation regarding the fucking of one Ina Dorfmann.

As they passed the dark girl looked at the boys over her shoulder. Taking a few more steps she stopped and turned back. “Mitchie, Normie, hi!” she said to both boys but standing directly before him, was obviously speaking to Mitchell only.

Taking a moment to remember the girl’s name, Mitchell recognized her as that ‘kid’ from last summer and even if she was pretty, skinny as she was she most certainly was not his type.

Besides, if she was too young for him last summer she was too young for him this summer. Especially now that he was a ‘Korean War v Vet’. Besides, at the moment he had more important things on his mind. So, “Yeah, hi.” he said, rudely bringing his attention back to Norman, who, remembering the girl, but not her name, “Hi,” nodded his head.

Looking as though she wanted to say something, but very well recognizing the signs of dismissal. Frowning, “Drop dead, you big jerk!” she said, and with an angry toss of her stubby ponytail, turning away, the girl continued the walk with her friend.

“She’s that girl from last summer, isn’t she?”

Watching their wide and narrow backsides, “Yeah,” Mitchell said.

“So, you gonna do it?”

Still watching the thinner of the backsides. Sensing a sudden, soft pang of loneliness in the pit of his stomach. Taking a moment for him to fathom Norman’s question. “Yeah,” he said, instantly forgetting the girl. “I’m babysitting at Doc Liebman’s tonight and if I can find Ina, I’m going to ask if she’d like to keep me company.”

“The Liebmans won’t mind you having a girl there?”

Rationalizing, “You’ve been there with me.”

“Yeah, Mitch, but I’m a guy. Do you really think they won’t mind if you have a girl there when you babysit?”

“Nah,” stretching the truth a bit. “I’ve asked if they mind if I have a friend to keep me company, and they said so long as I listen for and pay attention to Jerry they don’t care.”

He never asked, though, if the friend could be a girl.

****

Their parents able to rent the same cottages they’d had the year before, having their accumulated weekly and training camp pay, the boys thought they’d have enough money to last through the summer, then, in the fall, when school started, when they entered their junior year, they would look for part-time jobs.

****

Standing above her, his back to the sun. “Ina, hi!”

Turning from her stomach onto her back. shading her eyes from the sun, “Oh!” Having spoken to him only in passing, feeling flattered that a boy as handsome and standoffish as Mitchell Lipensky, ‘the’ Mitchell Lipensky would even stop by to say hello. “Hi, Mitchie!” Sitting up quickly she moved to the side of her blanket making room for him, “Sit down, why don’t’j’ya.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Sitting, the first time this close he looked at her.

Already sixteen, Ina dorfmann was almost six months older than Mitchell. She had peroxide-bleached, streaky blonde hair. Her face was round with small, dark-brown eyes, a turned-up nose with red-tinged nostrils due to blowing and rubbing because of allergies. Her forehead and chest were dotted with pin-head-size sun blisters. Though not fat, Ina was fleshy with thick thighs, a somewhat flabby stomach and…

Mitchell’s eyes went from her rather homely face to the creamy swellings at the top of her bathing suit, to… 'Oh, God'! Ina’s soft-looking, delectable breasts and even then, in the middle of the day. Even there, on this crowded beach — his lower brain shifting into high gear — he unwittingly obtained a full-fledged erection just thinking that, Maybe, tonight, he ‘might’, just ‘might’, be able to look at to touch and suckle on those… Oh, God, he thought, she’s got ‘great’ tits! Forcing his eyes from her chest to her face. “Ina...”— her immediate reaction to him inspiring him, however not sure how to ask— “...I’m, uh, babysitting tonight,” he said hesitantly, “and was wondering if, uh, if you’re not doing anything, if you’d like to, uh, come on over and keep me company.”

Ina, too, looked… At Mitchell’s green eyes. His darkly tanned, ‘scrumptious’ face and, her eyes shifting downward, to—wearing a yellow, brief-type bathing suit, sitting cross-legged as he was—Ina saw the tubular impression of his engorged penis under the tight-fitting, glossy material and she, also, thought of what she ‘knew’ she would look at, touch and suckle on tonight.

“Yeah, Mitchie, that sounds like fun. You wanna pick me up, or…” Knowing that most parents frown at their babysitters having company, especially ‘opposite sex’ company, and most ‘especially’ opposite sex company that looked like she knew she was going to look that night. “…or should I kind’a, you know, just kind’a come over later?”

Surprised, She’s going to! Now that Ina had, actually a bit frightened that she had. “Yeah,” he said, “if you don’t mind just, uh, just kind’a come over.”

****

The Liebmans had left almost an hour ago and Jerry, their three-year-old son, was sound asleep in the rear bedroom.

Having given Ina directions to the cottage, he asked if she’d get there at about eight.

Where is she?

At eight forty, beginning to think Ina had changed her mind, hearing footsteps on the wooden stairs and not waiting for her to knock Mitchell rushed to the door, pulled it open and seeing Ina simultaneously felt relief because she did come, fear because she did come, and a very rapidly heightening sense of anticipation because on this night, without a doubt, he, finally, really…I’m finally, really going to see what a cunt looks like. Which actually, oddly enough, took precedence over intercourse… although, not by much.

Wearing a light-blue, scooped-neck blouse that showed off her very ample cleavage, brown leather thongs and short—very short—jagged-cut Levi’s, “Hi’ya, Mitchie!” Ina said. “Dis must be d’place, eh?”

“Yeah,” swallowing nervously. “Dis am d’place.” Moving aside, “Come in.” Mitchell’s eyes followed the movement of Ina’s ample posterior as she walked into the room, and—the sway of her buttocks caused the pink, elastic band of her panties to show over the swell of her ample left buttock as it moved in and out under the cut-off thigh of her Levi’s, and—excited, hell, more than excited by the movement of this thin piece of pink fabric, he swallowed again.

“Nice cottage, Mitch. How many kids they have?”

“Just one, Jerry. He’s three and asleep and he never, ever gets up and the Liebmans went to a movie in Michigan City and won’t be back till after eleven!” he said quickly, as though trying to convince Ina that it was safe for them to do whatever his imagination and her morality would allow.

Taken back, expecting just a little more… ‘suavity’ from a ‘man’ as experienced as Mitchell Lipensky—‘the’ Mitchell Lipensky—Ina said nothing in response, and…

“Uh…” Suddenly inarticulate, at a complete loss for words, he could think of nothing to say, but… “Uh, you look real nice tonight, Ina.”

Which, coincidentally, was exactly the right thing to say because with a girl as insecure as Ina Dorfmann a little flattery went a long way.

“So do you, Mitchie. But then again you always look nice.”

Blushing, “Thanks.”

Going to the console radio, he turned it on and appropriately, “I want to be loved with inspiration,” the Andrews Sisters sang. “I want to be loved, starting tonight.”

Walking to the sofa, “Ina, why don’t we…” sitting in the middle—Gina’s trick—so wherever Ina sat she’d be within easy reach, “sit down.”

“No.”

“ ‘No’?” He blinked his eyes.

“No.” Sensing his… Actually pleasantly surprised at his shyness. Surprised also knowing that she, more so then he, would be in charge of the situation. Holding her hands forward, wiggling her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, “You come here!” As Gina, Ina knew the best way to loosen a guy up was to get him onto his feet, moving body to body. “Let’s dance.”

“No,” shaking his head. “I’m not such a good dancer.”

Her hands beckoning to him, “Sure you are!”

“No. Believe me, I am not such a good dancer.”

“ ‘Baloney’!” Moving to the sofa, purposely letting her blouse gape open, Ina bent forward allowing— although she was wearing a bra — all but the nipples on the long, hanging, double flow of breast flesh was visible. Taking him by both hands, she pulled Mitchell—whose eyes, naturally, were glued to her breasts—onto his feet and into her arms. Moving her body against his, “Anyone can dance,” she said. “See, it’s easy.”

Thinking, Oh, God, it’s like Gina all over again. Only Ina smells like coconuts and doesn’t have green teeth. Feeling the soft push of her breasts against his chest, And she’s got tits, really got tits!

One of those perpetually late people, Ina knew that she was late getting to the cottage and being reluctant to waste more time, “See, Mitchie,” putting both arms about his waist, pressing her body tightly against his, “it ain’t hard…” Looking at his face, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. Smiling. Feeling ‘it’ against her thigh, “...uh, dancing, that is.”

Watching the movement of Ina’s tongue. Catching the meaning of what, he thought, she really meant. Moving his hands from her ample hips to her ample buttocks. Grinding his pubis onto her pubis. Wanting that tongue, putting his mouth over her mouth, kissing Ina he drew, and in response Ina drew, too… With such force that it was his tongue rather then hers that was drawn outward and deeply inward as, moving his hand beneath the bottom of her loose-fitting blouse, he fumbled with the small…How the hell do you undo this damn thing? clasp of her bra, then, too fuckin’ complicated, he slipped his hand under the strap, around and upward and…Oh, God! A soft, very ample soft breast filled his hand, overflowing his hand and reversing the vacuums hold on his tongue, Ina’s tongue was drawn into his mouth.

“Mmmm!” Pulling her mouth from his. “Don’t want to waste any time do you, baby? Go close the blinds.”

“Mmmm! No, baby,” as he felt the rougher surface of her nipple between the tips of his fingers. “you feel so nice I don’t wanna move.”

“Yeah, baby. go on, an’ you can come right back.” For emphasis she squeezed the hand holding her breast. “I want’j’ya, too.”

Not sure if Ina meant that ‘she wanted him to close the blinds’, or ‘if she wanted him as he wanted her’. Nonetheless, reluctantly moving his hand from beneath the bra. From beneath her blouse, rushing to the window he twisted the rod that turned the wooden slats downward, then…

Aware of the cylindrical bulge beneath his jeans, remembering how unconcerned Frankie had seemed at the time. Standing straight upward he turned back to Ina who, having moved to the sofa, was now reclining against a heavily padded armrest.

Dropping alongside— wanting to get right back to ‘it’— lifting the loose fitting blouse from the bottom. Snagging the undersides of the 38C cups with his index fingers, pulling upward, “My, God, Ina,” he whispered passionately. “You’re beautiful!”

His words further exciting her, Ina closed her eyes in anticipation of the sweet, prickling sensation she knew would be coming at any second.

As though his gaze a caress. As he gazed, Ina’s large, dark-brown areolae began to tighten and a moment before totally abandoning himself to lust, Tits got to be one of God’s greatest miracles! Mitchell thought as, moving his head forward, holding the warm, soft weight of a breast from beneath, savoring the sweet/salt taste of her flesh he touched the tip of his tongue to the tightly puckered projection that now stood stiffly upward, then, closing his lips around it…

Moaning softly, Ina pressed his head to her breast, as…

Concurrently. As though having the same thought at the same time, each tried, single-handedly, to unbutton the impossible to unbutton—especially in that position—steel buttons of the other’s Levi’s without relinquishing his hand-held mouth-hold on her breast and her hand-hold on his head. But being in a better position, or, more the likely, because Ina Dorfmann had more experience at popping someone elsie's steel buttons in ‘any’ position, Ina had Mitchell’s popped first. Then the next and the next then fishing through the slit of his Jockey shorts, freed his straining penis, and…

It had been sixteen months since Mitchell had been held by a female hand, so when Ina wrapped hers around ‘him’, her touch, plus the thought of being touched, ‘there’ again, by a real girl, in combination with what he held within his mouth and hand… Don’t come! Do ‘not’ come! forced him to concentrate to keep from an immediate ejaculation and the barely-contained spark traveled, instantaneously, from penis to brain—upper brain—and back again causing a singular spasmodic jerk and, Whew, he didn’t. But having to touch her ‘there’ too. God-damned, fuckin’ buttons! He stopped fumbling with the button and attempted to wedge his hand between the fringe of Ina’s cut-off Levi’s and her thigh. But tight to begin with, sitting as she was, the bulk of her thigh strained against the tightly-stretched denim causing an impenetrable barrier. So abandoning ‘the hand up her thigh approach’, he returned to the God-damned button!

Knowing where he wanted to go. Wanting him ‘there’ just about—well, hardly—as much as he wanted to be ‘there’, sucking her abdomen in…

Finally’!

Finally, the top button, then the next two were unbuttoned and, turning his wrist outward, gliding his palm down her soft stomach. Reaching beneath the elastic band of her panties, stopping momentarily to feel the rough dampness of Ina’s pubic hair, then…Where is it? Taking a few seconds to find the part of her labia, Mitchell probed until his finger slid into the wet, Oh, God! very wet furrow of Ina’s vagina.

Their mouths coming together again, her hand, his finger and their two tongues moved concomitantly, till…

“Ina?” Looking into her face, feeling her warm breath on his.

“Yeah?” Looking into his face, feeling his warm breath on hers.

“Uh,” hardly daring to ask. “Will you, uh, take your clothes off?”

At that moment feeling something akin to love for this boy. “Yeah,” she said without a moments hesitation. “If you take yours off, too.”

 At that moment feeling something akin to love for this girl, “Yeah!” Hardly able to believe it, “You bet!” Pulling his finger from her vagina and standing. Wanting her to see him naked and, ‘Oh, yeah’! Wanting to see Ina naked, too! ‘You bet’! Pulling his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the sofa, he unbuckled his belt and as the steel Levi’s buttons had already been unbuttoned, lowered his pants along with his underpants—and because he hadn’t removed his shoes—stood with his pants and underpants bunched about his ankles… With his erection jutting inches from her face.

Fighting the urge to hold ‘him’. to put ‘him’ into her mouth. “Mitchie,” she said, “you’ve got a ‘really’ nice dick, you know?”

“An’ you’ve got the most beautiful t…” his breath catching. Watching he stopped speaking as Ina lifted her buttocks and, slowly, teasingly, began to wiggle out of her jagged-cut, cut-off Levi’s. As Mitchell, quivering penis jutting straight forward, stared first at the tangle of Ina’s curly, dark-brown pubic hair. Then, as she slowly, teasingly lowered her shorts even further and…

I’m going to see ‘it’! Oh, God! Here it…

‘Slam’! A car door.

Ina and Mitchell looked to the window.

Slam! Another car door.

“ ‘Uh-Oh’!”

 With the superhuman speed that God sometimes grants to those who are about ‘to be found out’. Mitchell, pushing his penis downward, pulled his pants and underpants up. Jammed his shirt over his head and quickly… So quickly buttoned the all-but-impossible to button—especially at times like these— Fuckin’ buttons!

As, standing, Ina pulled her jagged-cut, cut-off Levi’s, along with her panties, up around her ample waist. Buttoned the steel buttons and both she and he dropped onto the sofa again... On either side of the sofa. But as the doorknob turned, Uh-Oh! Ina remembered that her breasts were hanging out of the bottom of her, Thank God!”still hooked bra and quickly… So quickly, reaching beneath her loose fitting blouse, snagging the undersides of the cups with her index fingers, pulled upward popping her breasts back into their size 38C cups, then sat back again— as was Mitchel— in wide-eyed innocence as the front door swung open and Doctor and Mrs. Liebman stepped into their warm, sexually odoriferous living room.

“Oh, hi,” Mitchell said— forcing his well-practiced, innocent smile— “you’re home early.”

The adults stood quietly a long moment, looking at Ina and Mitchell.

“Yes,” Doctor Liebman finally said. “Mrs. Liebman became ill in the theater.”

As Mrs. Liebman went to the rear of the cottage to check on her son, Doctor Liebman moved to the easy chair opposite the sofa and stood behind it resting his hands on it’s high back.

Outside of a long forgotten but vaguely familiar pungent odor in the room, he couldn’t say for certain that these two were doing anything more than heavy petting. But even heavy petting was more, much more, than he’d ever expected to find.

“How’s Jerry,” he asked with a tinge of anger to his voice. “He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“Nah. He’s an angel, like always. No trouble at all.”

Glancing at his wife, who’d returned to the room. Hesitating, he looked from Ina to Mitchell. “It’s not your fault that Mrs. Liebman became ill, so we’re going to pay you for the entire evening.” Reaching into his pocket, Doctor Liebman removed a gold plated ‘$’ sign money clip, took a dollar from it and stretching, over the back of the chair, handed it to him.

Reaching for the dollar, “Thanks, Doc.” Standing, with Ina following, they walked to the door. Mitchell opened it and as they stepped outside, “Call me whenever you wanna go out again, okay?”

“Sure I will, Mitchell.” He looked at Ina. “Goodnight, uh…?”

“Oh, sorry; ‘Ina’.” Mitchell said.

 “Yes, ‘Ina’!” the doctor repeated, and forcing a smile, closed the door.

****

“ ‘Whew’! Well, Mitch, there goes another satisfied customer.”

“Yeah, they really like me.”

“Maybe they ‘did’, but somehow, I don’t think they’re real happy with you right now and I doubt you’ll be hearin’ from ’em again, leastwise not for a long time.”

“You think they think we were, uh, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they think ‘we were.’ Didn’t you see the looks on their faces?”

“Nah. They looked like they always look, kind’a.”

Mitchell looked upward, at a brilliant three-quarter moon and clusters of brightly shining stars and desperate to go ‘someplace’, ‘anyplace’ where he and Ina could be alone to pick up where they’d left off. “Jeeze, Ina,” he said cheerfully, “It’s a ‘great’ night! How’s about I get a blanket an’ you’n’me go on down to the beach.”

The last time Ina went to the beach with a boy at night he’d gotten sand on the tip of his ‘Redi-wet’ and it hurt like hell. “Nah, I don’t feel like goin’ to the beach,” she said, instantly deflating his carnally inflated bubble. “but how’s ’bout we take a ride to a place I know?”

Next “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: 

 Ina/ ‘50 Pontiac (CAREFUL)