"That is so cool!" he said, impressed. "I've never seen one like that. You know, you're really great. I never met anyone like you before." From the look on his face, there was a question he wasn't asking. I had a good idea what it was.
"It's OK, George. Ask me anything. I feel so darn great right now I'll probably tell you anything you want to know."
"I always thought you weren't supposed to ask girls this, but how old are you?" He rushed it a little, trying to apologize and ask at the same time.
"I'm the same age you are, George. I'm 18."
The look on his face was sheer unbridled joy. I was someone he could relate to, not someone he had to put on a pedestal.
"That's great! I mean, you're great. This is all just so unbelievable!"
"Oh, now you're just trying to sweet-talk me into doing something I'll regret. I can't imagine what we could do that could possibly top what we just did, can you?"
"I guess not," he laughed. His voice seemed to be steadying out on a lower note, now that he wasn't nervous anymore. "It's just... you're the prettiest girl I ever met. And since I've never seen you before, I thought I'd better tell you now." He was implying that he might never see me again, so he wanted to tell me all the important stuff while he had the chance.
We all started getting our clothes together again. Sue used some paper towels to blot the juice running down her legs and cranked up the hand-blower again to finish drying George's cotton briefs.
"I've never seen you before, either, George. Where do you go to school?"
"Pinehurst Academy. It's a private school for boys."
"I've heard of it, but you're the first person I've met who goes there. Is it a nice place?"
George gave us the brochure rundown on Pinehurst, which Sue interrupted to give George his shorts back and we both dressed him again. I wasn't sure why, he could have dressed himself. I just used any excuse to keep my hands on George Whitley. He seemed like the boyfriend I always wished I had — sweet, smart, and just my size. I decided I didn't want this to be that last time George and I met.
We checked each other over to be sure we were all presentable and then hustled out of the restroom quickly so no one would notice us. Fortunately, there wasn't anyone waiting to use it and everyone else was intent on getting to either of the regular facilities.
We were cutting through the food court when George said, "It's weird going to an all-boys school. I never get to meet any girls and that's a problem for most of the guys who go there. The place is a high school and prep school, so I'll be stuck there for another couple of years yet. It happened because my parents got divorced when I was 14 and Mom got Dad to promise to pay for private school tuition for me. There weren't any coed private schools in the county and Mom didn't want to send me all the way to Sarasota."
"That's happening a lot," Sue said. "Those who can afford it are applying for the state subsidy and using it to help pay for private schools. The public's confidence in the public school system is very low right now. The general opinion seems to be that the whole system is geared to providing the minimum education for the lowest-achieving students."
"So it wasn't just to keep you away from opportunities like this?" I asked George, facetiously. He was looking at Sue with a curious gleam in his eye. Her emotional involvement in the state of public education was showing and he was trying to figure out why. That was a line of thought I didn't want him following, so I tried to distract him.
"George, would you like my phone number? Maybe you could call me sometime and we could meet and hang out or something?" That distracted him plenty. He nodded rapidly and started going through his pockets for something to write on. He snatched a napkin out of a dispenser and handed it to me with a ballpoint pen he had stuck in the collar of his t-shirt.
I wrote my name, address, and number on the napkin and handed it back.
"Call me even if you just get lonely for a girl's voice, OK? But remember about keeping today a secret. It's not likely that you will run into my boyfriend, but I wouldn't want him to get the idea that he had to pound you or anything like that."
"Boyfriend?"
"Yeah. He's huge, and he loves throwing guys to the floor and falling on them, so keep this between us, OK?" I didn't know George well enough to know that he wasn't a blabbermouth, and I hated to use Steve as a threat, but it seemed safer if George had a reason to keep our sexual tryst a secret. To reassure him that I wasn't just trying to scare him off, I took his hand while we walked back to the part of the mall where I had left Neeka. It was also nice holding hands with someone my size. I didn't feel like a little girl walking beside an adult and dangling from their hand. I began to be glad that George went to a different school. It meant less to have to explain.
I wondered about my relationship with Steve. I was pretty sure I loved him, and I was pretty sure he loved me, but it was still very early for us to be thinking things like that, and there certainly hadn't been any discussion of commitment or anything that would prevent either of us from seeing other people. If something like that did develop; I would have to re-think a lot of things. I decided once more that it was too soon to be worrying about long-term relationships and stuff. I planned to have a lot more friends and have a lot more fun before I got tied down to one guy. As much as I liked Steve, I couldn't say that any day now, I wouldn't meet someone I liked better. And I really hoped that I wasn't just rationalizing all this to justify liking George.
"I think I'd be willing to get pounded if it meant I could see you again," George said.
I suddenly felt guilty for not trusting George. He seemed perfectly sincere about being willing to make the sacrifice for me and I felt terrible for threatening him with my boyfriend. I liked George more every time he opened his mouth.
"You're very brave," I told him. "Maybe you'll be the one beating up on him, but I hope it doesn't come to that."
He squeezed my hand and I smiled at him and leaned over and kissed his cheek. I couldn't have done that to anyone else and I started to consider the advantages of having a friend I could look in the eye without standing on something or craning my neck.
George and I chatted about school and teachers on the way back to where we had left Neeka. Sue opened her mouth a couple of times to make a comment when one of us would say something bad about one of our teachers, but she thought better of it each time.
"Do you have Gym or PE or whatever they call it at Parkhurst?" I asked George. I was looking for some way to yank Sue's chain a bit.
"We have mandatory sports. We have to go out for at least one sport each term, even if we just end up sitting on the bench during the games."
"Do you like your coaches?"
"Heck no! They're all lardasses. It's just laps, laps, laps, but they never run them with us. They just run us into the ground and then wonder why we can't play. And none of them know anything about the sports they're coaching."
"Do you think Sue would make a good coach? Do you think she could motivate you and your classmates?"
"Oh shit yes! If we had Sue for a coach we'd never lose a game."
"Why do you think she'd make a good coach?"
"Well look at her! She's built like a brick outhouse with muscles. She has to know something about keeping in shape to have a body like that. And she wouldn't have any trouble at all keeping our attention. Every boy in the school would bust a nut trying to make whatever team she was coaching. It's too bad she's not old enough to get a job at Parkhurst." He sounded disappointed after his burst of enthusiasm.
"How old do you have to be?"
"I dunno. 21 at least."
"So Sue has a few years to go, hunh?"
"Yeah. It's too bad."
Sue practically snatched George off the floor and kissed him right on the mouth. When she put him down, she kept hold of his free hand and said, "If you already have a boyfriend, can I have George? He says such nice things."
"No, George is mine. I'm thinking about dropping my present boyfriend for him. You'll find someone. Don't worry. If George is right, and I think he is, you'll have them groveling at your feet. Hey, I thought you were into the frat boys, anyway!"
"Don't laugh. I may just go their party."
"I hope you do. They'll probably name you their 'fraternity sweetheart' or something."
"Or something. It's sounding better to me all the time."
"Look," George said, "here's my mother. Hi, Mom!"
Predictably, George's mother was the housewife with whom Neeka had been sitting. Apparently George's sexual hair-trigger was genetic. It figured. She looked glad to see that her son was no worse the wear for having been spirited away by a couple of strange girls. She looked him up and down carefully, noting that he was holding both our hands.
"Mom, this is Sam and Sue." George thought hard about how to explain us but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't invite cross-examination, so he left it at that.
"I'm Lucinda Whitley," she said. "Thank you for helping George."
"What did you tell her?" I asked Neeka, silently.
"The truth. At least the part about you taking him to get cleaned up so he wouldn't be embarrassed. She knows he's past puberty. She washes his sheets, after all. She knows he inherited her sexual responsiveness but she doesn't know how to help him deal with it any more than she knows how to help herself. I told her you'd bring him back after you got him dried off. You know how slow those hand-dryer things can be."
"Right."
"Hello, Lucinda. I'm very pleased to meet you," I said. I hung onto George with one hand while I shook hers with my other. I wanted her to understand that I was staking a claim on her son and I wasn't ready to give him back yet.
While Sue shook hands with her, I maneuvered my butt onto the bench between George and his mother. Sue had to go sit on the other side of Neeka. Teach her to try to steal George from me! I pulled George's hand into my lap and hung onto it with both of mine. George seemed a little uneasy about my display of affection in front of his mother, but I hung on and he relaxed and let me keep the hand. He even smiled like it was him who had hold of me.
"I know George really appreciates this," Lucinda told me. "I know how terrible boys can be about making fun of each other."
"We were happy to help. It was our fault, after all. We couldn't just walk off and leave either of you like that."
The sharp intake of breath next to my right ear confirmed that George hadn't known that the same display that had turned him on so much had affected his mother in the same way. Which meant a lot of what I was about to say would be news to him.
"I didn't even know he was your son until we got back. It makes sense, though. Both of you are obviously very sensitive and highly responsive. He must take after you."
"Well," Lucinda began. She looked around, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation, but she couldn't run off without George, and it was clear that I wasn't going to let go of him. "I guess he does," she said, resigning herself to airing something this private in front of strangers. I knew that Neeka would have been her usual kind and supportive self and somewhat prepared her for this, so she should be ready to hear me out, rather than running of in a huff.
"I'm jealous," I said. "Have you always been able to climax so quickly?"
"Ever since I was a girl. It's led to some embarrassing situations, too! Dating was a nightmare. Every boy I went out with just had to put a hand on me and I was off to the races."
"I missed something. How is this a bad thing? You must have been very popular. I can't imagine why a boy wouldn't enjoy the heck out of ringing a girl's chimes."
"But they thought I was easy!"
"And you are. We made you cum without even touching you. You're just extremely sensitive, sexually. It's not a moral judgment; it's a biological fact. You can't fight biology. You can only learn to live with it."
George was paying very close attention. All this was apparently new information to him, but it was all something his mother should have told him years ago.
"But how can I deal with this?" she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "I've tried avoiding things that excite me. I've tried taking cold showers. I've desperately tried not to think of certain things. Nothing seems to help!"
"Good grief, Lucinda! You've been trying to put out a fire by throwing gasoline on it! When was the last time you masturbated?"
She became very uncomfortable discussing this in front of George, but this was something that applied to both of them, so he needed to hear it too.
"I don't do that. It's just giving in to the urge. Besides, girls shouldn't do that."
"Oh, right. OK, poll time. Everyone on this bench who enjoys masturbating, raise your hand."
Four hands went up. Everyone but Lucinda. I didn't even have to raise George's hand for him. Not very hard, anyway.
"OK, now everyone who has masturbated today. Hands, please!"
Four hands again. George didn't need help this time.
"One more time. Everyone who has masturbated more than once today!"
Three hands. Sue didn't have my supercharged hormones.
"How many today, George?"
"Three. Not counting... um."
"Right. How many usually by this time of day?"
"Um, five or six. I didn't have a chance to since Mom picked me up after school."
"George, would you like to come live with me? You and I belong together."
George grinned like he knew I was just kidding, but he wouldn't mind at all me taking him home.
"See, Lucinda? Everybody does it. It's just that nobody talks about it much. Highly responsive people like you and George and I need to be doing it a lot. We have to keep the beast fed to keep it under control. If you don't, you run the risk of having your hormones take over your brain. I know that if I don't cum every couple of hours, I can't think straight. I can't concentrate on my classes. If I let it get too bad, I start to obsess about it and I can't think of anything else. Our clits take control of our brains like George's cock takes over his. That's why his sheets have those stains that just won't seem to come out no matter what brand of detergent you use."
She laughed at that, finally. I tried another one.
"You know, George could probably put away a sizeable college fund just from Sperm Bank donations. I understand they pay $75 for each ejaculation. That means you're losing over $2000 a week. Heck, at that rate, he could retire when he was 30! With the proper incentive, he could generate enough income to buy you a new house within a year. I'd be happy to help motivate him to produce the greatest quantity that he's capable of."
Lucinda was laughing so hard she was having trouble catching her breath. George was looking thoughtful. He suddenly had a potential source of income he hadn't considered, and one that would be considerably more pleasant than your average summer job in the orange orchards.
"Sam," Neeka said, right on cue, "I hate to throw cold water on this wonderful scheme, but I think you have to be at least 21 years old before the sperm bank will take you as a donor."
I thanked her silently for being a good straight-man.
"Oh well," I said, "Easy cum, easy go."
That got a round of groans from everyone. Lucinda pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. George looked very disappointed. He'd been looking forward to a satisfying career as a cum-factory.
"OK, you see my point? It's just a fact of life that you need to deal with, and not by denying that it exists!"
"So I should just resign myself to being a slave to my sexual urges?" Lucinda asked. She seemed more open to discussion, now that the taboo had been broken and the tension dispelled.
"Resign yourself to needing to eat and breathe, too. You're just as much a slave to your hunger and your respiration. Ignoring your body's needs has consequences."