Jailbait, Me
There was only a gap of five years between us. But I was...14. Always have been advanced for my age. He was an unemployed 'poet' with a car
(but revoked driving privileges) who fancied himself the tortured artist. Total fucking loser. Classic Cackers. In my defense, he
looked quite like James Dean. And had an enormous penis.

So, with no transport - and my age - clearly we'd be staying in.

Having a romantic dinner was far from the point of this illicit and illegal alliance. (We did have a proper relationship, in a sense,
the term 'love' was bandied about, but time clarifies things, don't it?) This was about exploring that fabulous beast - teenage lust.

Each morning I would set off for school but then pass it by in favor of 'Bob's' house. His mother would greet me with a tight little smile and offer me some breakfast. Trust me, food was the furthest thing from my mind. More'pressing' matters were at hand. I'd just smile dumbly and take a glass of juice or something.

Can't imagine what her thoughts were about this weird girl who appeared at her door each day at 0900 sporting elbow length leather gloves, over-the knee-boots, and purple hair. goth meets Emma Peel was my look at the time. Charming it was, but the local climate was HOT, so my style was entirely unsuitable. But I was, and remain, as countless other can attest,
truly daft.

Anyway, I'd gulp the juice down - actually it DID fortify - and - make my way to the ultimate destination - the lair of 'Bob' Where, in true loser fashion, he would still be asleep. Our ritual was to get into it straightaway. He quite naturally had evil morning breath, but my prize was his raging hard-on. Whatever, have never been too squeamish. Dragon-breath was small pain in exchange for what was to come. And come, and come to think of it, come again. Thankfully, he did keep a pitcher of water to refresh us. He was a lazy bastard. But crafty. And how.

The ritual was for me to climb aboard, because he was sloth on waking. At which point, ahem, my plan was sorted. All systems go! We would spend the day doing the dirty until 'school' was over.

I was, of course, without experience but made up for this with enthusiasm. We would shag the clock around. Think the record was 10 times in one day. *Ah youth when all equipment is in best working order* We spent the hours stifling our screams so as not to startle his mother or awaken his loser brother who worked the night shift at Kmart. (At least HE had employment. But was ugly as sin. So paid him no regard).

After each go, he would inquire if I had 'arrived.' Yes, thank you. Every time. So we
attempted to be discreet. But really, what did his family *think* was going on behind that door?

Anyway. One day we took a breather or he just went to pee. Some such. There I stood, alone in his room, nude, enjoying a Marlboro - we did
take smoke breaks between rutting ourselves silly - when a short, sharp knock at the door ocurred. In my post-coital haze I automatically replied 'Yes'.

The door flew open, putting Bob's mother in full view of bare me, cigarette in hand. (Actually, socks might have been involved.) Her
eyes went wide and and she dropped the basket of
laundry she was holding. All of Bob's whites fell to the floor. (No job and his mother still washing his clothes! Classic.)

We gaped at each other an infinite second. I remember taking a long draw from my smoke, waiting for the bombs to rain down on my head.

'Maybe YOU can put Bobby's things away today', she sharped at me at last. *slam of door*

My face was red, but I just blithely finished my cigarete and got back in bed. Indeed. As if I hadn't been engaged all the day long in 'putting Bob's thing(s) away! O shameless me. Smugness and lack of self-respect were (are) not mutually exclusive to mad addled Cackers!

Up until that frightful day, his mother had dutifully driven me to the bus stop each afternoon in her Honda (US standards compact - plenty of room to store your automatic weapons) The three of us in her little car What we must have smelled like after such sexathons! I contemplate this with a strange blend of mortification and pride.

On the day of discovery I walked to the bus station on my own, my days of being driven in 'style' over. I took a short-cut through a an empty building site and my boots were besmirched wih dust. But were I sad? No, really just looking forward to tomorrow's 'installment'. Wanton hussy.

There was *some* fall-out: white plastic laundry baskets haunt me to this day. Most likely was purchased from Kmart with an Employee's discount!

Post-Script: it ended badly. He was a conformist unable to deal with my wardrobe - to him I was best unclothed. Have to say felt the same about him. Wore penny loafers, for fuck's sake. When I ditched him, said I'd just realized I was a lesbian. Don't think he believed me. Too devoted was I to his love muscle. And why not-it was always at the ready! Very effective.

PPS - years later he tracked me down to be a 'character witness' because he was in midst of trial for sleeping with another underage
girl. And then told me he still loved me!! Mad fucker. In every sense.

With all apologies for Yank spelling & punctuation.
( cackers, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 10:56, 8 replies)

I actually really like this.
Not for the whole "underage sex" thing, but your writing style.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:00, closed)

I agree
good job
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:16, closed)

I too will clarify that my click
Is for the quality of the prose and the entertaining story. Not because I'm a paedophile. Honest.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:22, closed)

trying to get back to the writing, actually
thanks. you're kind to say.
( cackers, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:45, closed)

Yup, enjoyed!
*click*







also gave me 'the twitch'.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:12, closed)

While underage sex is never a good thing.
There are some truly predatory young girls out there.
( girlinthehole, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:13, closed)

Good work indeed
.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 11:37, closed)