A Sexual Memior (Part 1)
Chapter 32
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events described never happened. The persons and places described don’t exist.
If you are not 21 or are offended by descriptions of sexual situations, please
don’t read this story. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Two: Klaus And Amber
After I dropped the company
van at Pro Tec, I cruised on home in my Camray. As I approached the big brick
colonial, which served as the Bradley homestead, I saw a vintage red Corvette
Stingray parked in the drive. I thought holy shit the Beach Boys or Jan and
Dean must have stopped by. I pulled to a stop behind the red Vette. As I walked
by, I glanced inside. Shades of Annette and Frankie, the fucking thing had red
shag carpeting, a shag steering wheel cover, big dice hanging from the mirror,
the original AM radio and an eight-track tape deck. I’ll bet there was a secret
compartment for rubbers in the thing somewhere too. Damn, if this car could
only talk! I wondered how many cherries had been popped in its cramped
interior. Just thinking about a pair of shapely legs sticking out through the
window and waving in the air was getting me hot. Now I began to contemplate how
I could manage to fuck that cute chubby Christine Steele in this contraption.
It would be a challenge, but I found the possibilities to be very intriguing.
I strolled on around to the
patio and my system got another shock. Amber Connor was chatting with my mom.
It seemed impossible, but she was sexier than ever. She was wearing white
shorts that were so tight, I was certain she had to have a special tool to get
them pulled down. I guessed it was something along the lines of a shoehorn,
only a lot thinner. Her tanned shapely legs protruded beyond the skimpy shorts.
Her long blonde hair was brushed to silky perfection. The classic lines of her
beautiful face were mesmerizing. She was wearing a short top that was tied in a
loose knot beneath her perky little tits. A good expanse of her flat tanned
tummy was visible all the way down to her sexy little belly button. Did I
mention that her shorts were tight? When she stood up to shake my hand, I saw
her pussy lips snap closed under the thin white material. Amber said, in a fake
sophisticated voice. “My goodness Bill, just how long has it been since we last
saw each other?”
Oh God, I was so tempted to
say, “Not since I popped your cherry,” or “The last time I saw you. Frank
Armano had his monster cock rammed up your ass.” However, my mom was sitting
right there, so I said in a fake faggoty voice, “Oh dear me, I guess it’s been
way too long. I just can’t seem to remember.”
Amber said, “Bill I’d like
you to meet my fiancée; Mr. Klaus Schneider. This was the first time I’d
noticed the big blond palooka sprawled in a deck chair beside my mom. As Herr
Schneider hoisted himself up from the deck chair, I thought she must have
picked this asshole up at the last Oktoberfest. Klaus was at least 6’ 5’. His
blond hair was close-cropped. His face looked like it was made of square blocks
of granite. I expected his skull was as thick as a block of granite and
whatever was inside was very likely just as dense. The son of a bitch was
wearing a Banlon pullover shirt. Hell, they hadn’t made those things since
1970. He must shop for his clothes in the Twilight Zone. No wait, I was wrong!
He was wearing white Dockers with a puffy pleated front. Only fags wore pants
like those. He must have got them in
white crew socks. Fuck I gave up, he must have found that getup at a Goodwill
store in
Springs
When Klaus held out his hand
and said hello (with a faggoty lisp), I glanced around quickly. Good, none of
the neighbors were watching. As I shook hands, I thought I sure hope John Wayne
isn’t looking down at me from heaven right now. I made a mental note to soak my
hand in disinfectant before I touched my tool the next time.
When Herr Schneider started
to fold himself back into the deck chair, I decided to try a little experiment.
I yelled Heil Hitler at the top of my lungs. He snapped to, clicked his heels
together and gave me the stiff-armed salute. I had to duck. He almost knocked
me over when his hand shot out. I pretended that the whole thing was a joke and
so did Klaus. Then, we all had a laugh, but I wasn’t fooled! He probably had
his SS uniform and Jack Boots in a secret compartment in the trunk of the
Vette! What in the hell had Amber gotten herself into this time?
In a while, I offered to
bring out some drinks and I asked Amber to help. When we got into the kitchen,
I pulled her into my arms, squeezed her hot little ass cheeks and started
kissing her. I tried to slip my hands into the back of her shorts, but they
wouldn’t fit. Those God damned shorts were too tight. I had to content myself
with bringing a hand around to massage between her legs. In seconds, Amber was
rubbing her crotch against my fingers. Just as I was slipping my other hand up
under her top to pull out one of her cute little tits, she stiffened and pulled
away from me. Amber was panting and trembling all over. After she caught her
breath she said, “Bill, you’re an animal! You make me sick!”
I said, “Bullshit Amber,
something tells me that I’m just what the doctor ordered for what’s ailing you.
How long has it been since your hot little pussy got some up close and personal
attention? It’s obvious it needs some. I’ll bet that cute little ass is
I know what you really want. Those tight shorts must be cutting off the blood
circulation to your brain. You’re not really going to marry that blockhead out
there are you?”
Amber said, “Fuck you Bill! Klaus
is a gentleman. He respects me. He’s not a Chauvinist pig like you are!”
I retorted, “Klaus is a
fucking Nazi fag!”
Amber said, “You know Bill; I
feel sorry for you.”
I thought oh no, not again!
Half the people in the world must feel sorry for me. The United Nations should
start a relief fund for me. Maybe some family in a third world country could
adopt me. Once a month, I could send them a chapter from my sexual memoir to
read by lantern light in their mud hut. Aloud, I asked, “Why do you feel sorry
for me Amber?”
“Bill, you have no taste for
the finer things in life…you know…the arts and culture.”
Now I was sure Amber didn’t
know what she was talking about. I’d read every Stephen King novel that was
ever published and I had the biggest collection of country music CDs this side
of
Amber continued, “I’ve known
you for a long time Bill and you haven’t changed. From the first, I knew you
had a sick twisted mind. All you ever think about is sex. You don’t think of
women as people with feelings and emotions. To you, they’re just another set of
tits and a pussy. Face it. You’re sick. You need psychiatric help.”
What Amber said made me think
for a little while. Then I noticed the curve of her cute little ass and I
started thinking about spanking it. Then I had a great idea. I could play on
Amber’s sympathy and maybe get a chance to fuck her before the night was over.
I put a somber look on my face. I tried to work up some tears, but I wasn’t
that good of an actor. The somber look would have to do. I said, “You’re right
Amber. I know it. I don’t know what to do. I’m getting worse all the time and
my life is a living hell. I need help. I need someone to talk to, but it has to
be someone who knows me. I can’t bare my soul to a stranger. I have no right to
ask this of you, but I will. It could be my only chance to lead a normal life.
Please Amber, will you come over here later tonight and just talk with me?
Amber said, “Of course I will
Bill. I want us to be friends. I want to help you.”
I said, “Thank you Amber. It
means a lot to me.” Now I asked in a plaintive tone, “Amber would you do
something else?”
“What is it Bill?”
“When you come over, don’t
wear those shorts. I’d prefer a short skirt, blouse, pink satin panties, sheer
black stockings and spike heel shoes.”