A “Becoming” excerpt in Sequence: “An Indian Summer Night”
Skokie, Illinois
September 21, 1951 _________________________________________________________
“Believe me,” Sally went on, “I wouldn’t have gone out with you if I didn’t like you and I most certainly would ‘not’ have let you do to me what I let you do if I didn’t! But you’ve ‘got’ to know, Mitch, that that’s as far as I go—as far as I’ll let you go!”
‘That’s as far as she’ll let me go’. Sensing a pang of disappointment, but then remembering what else she had said: ‘I like you, I like you a lot!’ She likes me and that’s why she let me do what we did, and that’s why we’ll do it some more, and, God, those tits! Those ‘great’ tits! Okay, so if that’s as far as we go, that’s okay, too. But who knows? Maybe, in a while, she’ll be the one wanting to go further.
As though reading his thoughts, “Mitchie, I promised myself…” Hesitating, “… and ‘Jesus Christ’ that I’d still be a virgin when I get married. So if you want more than 'tonight' from me, ‘please’ tell me now, before we get to like each other too much.”
________________________________________________________
Author’s notation: “An Indian Summer Night” had been posted out of sequence and can be found as “A Virgin Girl 2”
Thank you… By the way, if descriptive sex offends you, you may want to watch out for this “Indian Summer Night”.
As though reading his thoughts, “Mitchie, I promised myself…” Hesitating, “… and ‘Jesus’ that I’d still be a virgin when I get married. So if you want more than tonight from me, ‘please’ tell me now, before we get to like each other too much.”
“Yes, ‘of course’ I want more than that, Sal. But I like you a real lot, too. You’re just about the most beautiful girl I’ve ever gone out with and being with you tonight was wonderful.” Staring into the blackness beyond the windshield, reflecting on the multitudes of times that he’d enviously watched guys— usually the Letter Men— that had their arms around the most beautiful girls in school. He visualized himself and Sally and the looks of envy he’d be getting and,
“Sal,” he said impetuously, “let’s go steady!”
Feeling her heart lurch, God, she thought, if it were anyone else and I liked him only half as much as I like him…But wisely considering the implications of ‘going steady’ with this boy. Knowing that going steady always took things one or more steps further than ‘just’ dating and… Sally knew Mitchell was Jewish and though neither she nor her family harbored prejudices, being Christian she knew that this relationship could not, or would never go as far as marriage, and… Not sure if she’d always have the resolve to ‘always’ say ‘no’ to Mitchell.
“Mitchie,” she said, “we’ve only been out once. Why don’t we go out a few more times, and then… Well, we can talk about going steady again.”
“Okay, fair enough. How’s about tomorrow?” Never expecting her to say yes. “If you’re not busy, you want to go out tomorrow night?”
She ‘was’ busy. She did have a date… to go bowling with the girls, but, “Okay. Yes. But Mitchell,” she said seriously, “I want you to remember what I told you. And also, that if I ever do ‘go all the way’, then I’d be breaking a promise I made to myself and to God and I’d be terribly disappointed in myself, and you, and I ‘don’t’ think you’d want that to happen. Would you?”
“ ‘Of course not’!” But, really, Mitchell was not sure that that was altogether true .
“Okay, I believe you. So, what time are you going to pick me up, and where we going?”
Thinking a moment, “Did I tell you my dad’s got a boat?”
“No, you didn’t. ‘Your dad’s got a boat’?”
“Well, yeah, a sailboat. It’s only a sixteen-footer, but it is a boat. And I thought, if it’s as nice tomorrow night as it is tonight, maybe we’ll go to, uh, you ever been to ‘Walker’s’?”
“The pancake house in Wilmette, on Sheridan?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure I’ve been there. Hasn’t everybody?”
“Well, I thought, if you want to, we’ll go there for dinner at about, oh, seven. Then we’ll go to the harbor and if it’s warm enough, if you want to, to just, uh, kind’a sit on my dad’s boat.”
“To ‘just kind’a sit’, huh? To watch the submarine races no doubt.”
Remembering another girl at another time saying that exact thing, but unable to recall who or when it was. “Well, yeah,” he said, smiling, thinking of what they’ll actually be doing. “But don’t worry because even if we had a bunk this boat’s so small there wouldn’t be any place to put it.”
“I’m ‘not’ worried.” Now that she’d put the responsibility for the future of wherever their relationship may be onto Mitchell’s shoulders, “I trust you,” she said honestly.
Rather ‘unsure’ that he’d be able to honor that trust, “So now that that’s settled, you in any big hurry to go in?”
“As a matter of fact, I told my mom I’d be home before twelve.”
Glancing at the clock in the dashboard: 12:07. “Okay, Cinderella.”
****
Standing at her doorway feeling the warmth of their departing kiss, she watched for the flash of the car’s dome light as he opened the door then, waving, called, “Goodnight, Mitchie!”
Mitchell saw Sally standing silhouetted against the orange glow of the stained-glass door. Feeling the warmth of their parting kiss, “’Night, Sal!” Waving back. Stepping into the car, he started the engine.
September 22, 1951
Except for the cold rain on Wednesday, that week had been an extension of summer. Daytime temperatures had been in the low eighties and the nights in the mid-seventies. Saturday night was positively balmy.
Wearing well-worn Levi’s and a yellow cotton shirt, when Mitchell knocked on the door it took no longer than ten seconds until the door was pulled open.
Wearing light blue pedal pushers and a floral blouse opened two buttons down that showed her tan and a fringe of cleavage. Sally’s honey-colored, shoulder-length hair was brushed to the side of her face giving her a ‘Veronica Lake’ look.
Still in the doorway, “Sal, you look beautiful!”
Taking his hand, “Thanks, Mitchie,” leading him into the house. “I want to you to meet my mom and dad.”
****
Its silvery tail dipping into the calm water of Lake Michigan, the bright moon seemed to follow the Buick as Mitchell drove north along the winding stretch of Sheridan Road.
“Hey,” glancing over his shoulder, “now I know why you’re the way you are.”
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“ ‘Nice’. Your mom’n’dad, they’re ‘real’ nice people.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, they’re kind of different than the way I thought they’d be.”
“ ‘How’? How’d you think they’d be?”
“I never met farmers before, and I kind’a thought your paw’d be smoking a corn cob pipe and your maw’d be chawin’ on a plug’a tobbacy.”
“Mitchell, ‘you’re terrible’!” Moving closer. Putting her arm around his neck, she kissed him on the cheek.
“If’in I be’s so terrible, how’s come y’all be a kissin’ me?”
Kissing him again. “Guess, I’m just plumb loco.”
A pecking kiss on her lips, he quickly brought his attention back to driving.
****
Mitchell had never felt prouder.
Standing in line waiting to be seated, he knew they were the best-looking couple in this popular, crowded restaurant and felt that all eyes were upon them.
Sharing one of ‘Walker’s’ huge apple souffles, Sally had a side order of bacon, Mitchell, pork sausage... and each washed it down with cold milk.
“I thought Jewish people weren’t supposed to eat pork.”
“Yeah, that’s true , and this is a double whammy ’cause we’re not supposed to drink milk with meat, either.”
Taking another drink of milk. “Oh, well, when that bolt of lightning gets you, remind me not to stand too close.” When she put the glass down she had a milk mustache.
“You know,” wiping her mouth with his napkin, “you’re not only beautiful, you’re cute, too.”
****
“Here it is.” Pulling a dinghy containing a set of oars out of a rack on the rear deck of the ‘Columbia Yacht Club’, Sally held the stern and he the bow, while between them they carried it to the side of the closest finger pier and dropped it into the water. Stepping in first, sitting mid-ship, holding onto the dock, Mitchell held the dinghy steady as Sally stepped in.
“All set?” Pushing off, fitting the oars into the oarlocks. “Anchors away!” He rowed from the slip into the channel and around the stern of the long-retired, converted automotive ferryboat that became the Columbia Yacht Club.
“ ‘A yacht club and a boat’! If I’d have thought you were this rich, Mitch…” She chuckled, “Rich, Mitch. I’m a poet and didn’t know it… I’d’a gone all the way and make you marry me.”
“Don’t know about getting married, Sal, but, sorry to say, ‘going all the way’ still sounds pretty good to me. And sorry to tell you, but we sure ain’t rich and my dad’s boat isn’t exactly what you’d call a yacht.” Glancing over his shoulder, back-oaring with the port oar, compensating for too much port drift, “There she is.”
Straining forward, looking over his shoulder, “Where?”
“Look over my starboard shoulder.”
“Sure, Mitchie. Your ‘what’?”
“Sorry, my right shoulder. When you’re on a sea-going vessel such as this you gotta speak nautical-like. Facing forward, right’s starboard and left’s port. Got it? See it?”
“Got it? Where?”
“There!” He stopped rowing and, turning around, pointed. “That’s it. That huge monster there.”
“That’s your father’s boat?” She laughed. “It’s cute.”
“Oh, yeah! My dad would have a fit if he heard you call his boat ‘cute’.”
Although always asked, Mitchell would often find an excuse to avoid going sailing with his father and Lawrence because once on the boat Walter became, in Mitchell’s opinion, ‘Captain Bligh’,and he could never do anything fast enough or well enough.
Bumping lightly, they pulled alongside. Holding the gunwale, Mitchell steadied the dinghy while Sally scampered aboard the larger boat. Following, he tied the dinghy onto the stern cleat.
Sixteen feet long from stem to stern, the boat was five feet across at its widest point. A one-foot wide, canvas-on-wood deck ran along either side of the cockpit to become solid decking forward of the mast. Needing someplace to lay, taking the three long flotation cushions from inside the open cockpit, Mitchell laid them on the solid decking forward the mast….
****
His shirt off. Lying face to face kissing, as they kissed her fingers twined the hair of his chest. Touching a nipple, feeling him shudder, Sally continued to make light circles around one, then the other.
One arm beneath her head, the other laid over her waist, lightly caressing Sally’s buttocks. The extremely pleasant sensation of her finger circling his now-hardened nipple causing him to shudder again. “How’d you like it if I did that to you?”
“Emmm,” moving her mouth to his ear. “Don’t threaten me.” Her tongue flicking his ear, “Why don’t you try it and find out.”
Feeling the warmth of her sultry voice. Shuddering again from the sensuousness of her tongue on his ear. “Funny you should say that, ’cause that’s kind’a what I had in mind.”
Sitting up, unbuttoning her blouse, “Wait, baby, no sense getting all wrinkled.” taking it off, she lay it over the boom. Thinking — and rightly so— her breasts beautiful, anxious to have Mitchell see her bare, her excitement heightening, sensing the hardening of her nipples... Drawing it out just a bit, reaching behind her back, unhooking the bra, removing it she laid it over her blouse.
Having only seen Sally’s breasts in the deeply shadowed, subdued flickering light of Technicolor, unaware that he’d been holding his breath now, actually seeing her, “Mmmm, God!” he sighed aloud…
Lying on her back, her head atop his arm, the weight causing her breasts to flatten and lay to the sides of her chest…
Looking at her in moonlight, Mitchell saw the iridescent whiteness of the flesh of Sally’s breasts against the tan of her chest. The areolae of Sally’s nipples were the size of silver dollars and, even as he watched, the effect of air and the thrill of knowing he was watching further causing the russet colored tissue to tighten… To erect.
Kissing one. Drawing a nipple into his mouth, holding the weight of the other breast in the palm of his hand, feeling the, Oh, God! Weight. Circling the nipple with his tongue …
Holding Mitchell’s face against her breast, moving it in a slow, tight circle…
Tasting. ‘Loving’ tasting. Truly loving the taste and the touch of his lips and tongue upon this now-hardened projection of Sally’s flesh. “Sal,” Relaxing his lips, lifting his head, looking at her face, “Sal…” Opening her eyes, she looked into his. “You’re ‘beautiful’! My, God, you’re ‘so’ beautiful!”
Wanting! My, God! The urge to feel ‘some’ part of Mitchell within her becoming overwhelming… Moving her lips to his once again. Drawing, My, God, thinking of his tongue as his penis, drawing… Hungrily drawing Mitchell’s tongue deeply into her mouth…
Wanting!My, God! The urge to feel some part of himself within Sally becoming overwhelming…My, God, thinking of it as his penis, Mitchell thrust his tongue deeply into Sally’s mouth…
And out, and in, as…
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 causing the ‘pre’ tickle within his urethra. As... No! She’s testing you! His upper brain said, No! His lower brain though, said, ‘Yes’!
Yes… Down. Down onto the warm, so warm so wet furrow, where…
Lost in a sea of passion. Arching her hips Sally widened her thighs…
Oh, God! Mitchell moved his finger into the warm now slick fold but…No, she’s testing me!
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 and 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 on! 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. Once again chucking common sense, what she really wanted was, Naked! 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. Said 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?” Smiling. “You want to see me undressed, don’t you?”
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. “A ‘double dare’, huh? Okay, 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, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans… Stopping short of lowering them, he looked at her.
Sitting up on her elbows, very obviously staring 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 his pubic 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... 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’ 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 angrily 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 she, touch it, 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. Constricting 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 moment 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! Immediately! Not wanting to, Oh, God! Not wanting to! 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 swift movement 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, Sally’s 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!” And never expecting her to, added, “come on in!”
Without the slightest hesitation pulling herself to her knees and standing, Sally 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, her toes gripping the coping, standing squarely above Mitchell’s head,…
With Sally’s legs to either side of his head, Mitchell saw her painted toenails He saw the swell of her calves, the... Oh, God, I’d love to feel my face there!...smooth roundness of both thighs, the twin 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 projected reflection on the still water, Mitchell saw the puckered orifice of Sally’s anus and the furrow and... Oh, God! her minutely hanging, blood engorged vaginal lips, and—shame he didn’t know what he was looking at—the thin, rounded sheath that housed her clitoris, 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 embe dded 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, actually 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… Looking at her—at ‘all. of her—excited Sally Brockman beyond all logical comprehension.
Pulling his eyes from the underside of Sally. Looking now 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 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 and 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 throbing 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—somewhat blindly— 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 chest, they kissed…
Feeling the probing between her thighs, angling upward, she pulled him inward, as…
Reaching further behind, and beneath, touching the cleft of her vagina, penetrating the cleft, two fingers easily entered the ‘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! Buoying herself upward. Buoying herself higher so that Mitchell might be in position to…
Straining upward Holding ‘him’, Moving even 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 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. 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’ craved the sensation of 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.
Also—her legs now wrapped about his waist—Oh, God I want to! Straining into her body 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 thighs about his waist. Holding him, guiding him to…
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! Unable to hold back…
Oh,Damn!
As though erupting from the muzzle of a light caliber pistol— floating within the ultra-slight under-currant — came seven streams of cream colored semen.
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… Yet, knowing that she did not want to...In a way relieved that...
Amazing how the ‘male’ attitude changes ‘after’..
Yet, knowing that she really did ‘not’ want to...In a way relieved that they had ‘not’ had completed intercourse.
So now taking the ‘high’ road. Taking the ‘noble’ road…
“Sally… no!” Pulling away. “Let’s stop, ‘now’!”
“Mitchie?” If Sally had been experienced. If Sally had ‘any’ experience, holding him as she had been holding him, she most likely would have felt his penile contractions but, her eyes opening. Focusing. “Mitchie, 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…” 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.
Knowing how close she’d come to breaking her vow to herself and, more importantly—‘most’ importantly—to her God.
“Mitchie, thank you!” Even though at that moment not sure she really meant it. “Mitchie, 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.
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 fucking 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. I’ll call in the morning and ask 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 from now on I’ll keep the rubber handy.
****
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’! Actually feeling the heat of it, alone in her room, 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 up at me… ‘there’.
****
Embarrassed, and a bit frightened by the sexual power Mitchell seemed to have over her. Some how 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’.
Next “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: “Cross a Street/Susan 1”
