Part One

Dale Baker and I had been friendly academic rivals since we first became classmates in the fourth grade in our suburban Canadian city. Dale’s family moved across town when he was nine and became a pupil at Cedar Woods Public School which I had attended since kindergarten. I, Stephen Garrett, became aware of Dale on the Tuesday after Labor Day in September 1973. That was the first day of the new school year. He did not make much of an impression on me initially. I first seriously noticed him after about a week when both he and I began finishing our assignments well ahead of everyone else in our class.

Without really acknowledging it, our “smart kid” rivalry began. For example, as soon as we were given a math sheet to complete, we’d each attack it with gusto, not focusing on anything else until we got it done. Mrs. Jacobson, our fortyish teacher, was amused to see us rush to be the first one to arrive at her large desk so she could verify we had gotten the right answers. Whoever got to her desk first with a perfect paper was deemed the winner—without either one of us ever saying so. The same thing applied to any other assignment we were given, be it an English, social studies or science sheet. The end result was that both Dale and I had plenty of extra time on our hands, so we each had a cache of books to pass the minutes while the rest of the students eventually caught up to us. I recall reading several Hardy Boys novels in the fourth grade thanks to all the spare time I had.

Dale and I became fast friends. We liked playing intellectual games and challenging each other as often as possible. We were about level as chess opponents and other games that involved logic and strategy. I was better at word games than he was, but Dale was slightly superior in math. He impressed me by memorizing the times tables up to 30. Mrs. Jacobson was shocked when she tested Dale with “What’s 24 times 27?” and Dale responded immediately with the correct answer: 648. I gave him a round of applause. Our classmates, who were struggling to learn the seven times table, looked upon Dale as some sort of brainy freak. They just sat there wondering how anyone could possibly know that answer off by heart. Dale said it was an easy calculation. “Think of it as a money problem,” he explained. “Since 24 quarters makes six dollars, and two times 24 equals 48. So that would make $6.48. Simple, huh?” That made perfect sense to me, so I got it, but I don’t think anyone else did—including Mrs. Jacobson.

Our friendly rivalry continued into the eighth grade. More than halfway through the 1977-78 academic year, our teacher, Mr. Allister, introduced the other 28 pupils in his class to a new student who had just moved into town from far away Arizona. Her name was Mila Fernandez. She had an unusual ethnic mix of Greek and Hispanic. In an era when Canada was still overwhelmingly Caucasian, the 5’3” Mila stood out as an exotic beauty. Furthermore, she had quite a nice figure for a 14-year-old girl—which was plainly obvious to all the adolescent males in the class. This included Dale and me, of course.

Over the years, Dale and I had occasionally competed in romantic escapades, too. Once for fun, I bet Dale a quarter that I would kiss Melissa Stemkowski—the prettiest girl in the sixth grade—before he would. Seconds after he accepted the wager, I walked up to the cute blonde just before class began and asked her in a straightforward manner, “Melissa, if I give you a quarter, may I kiss you?”

“Sure, Stephen!” she eagerly agreed.

I came prepared. I promptly kissed her on the lips, gave her a quarter from my pocket, and was reimbursed by Dale shortly thereafter. To his credit, Dale was easygoing about being swindled out of 25 cents. “Thanks for paying for me to kiss Melissa,” I told him. “You’re a great friend, Dale. You really are!”

As soon as we saw Mila enter our classroom that cold February morning in 1978, Dale and I both instinctively knew that she’d be the prize for our next head-to-head faceoff. When Dale flashed me a subtle hand signal that mimicked copulation, I nodded my agreement. That meant our next competition would be to see which one of us got very intimate first with the extremely attractive newcomer.

Without knowing he was doing so, Mr. Allister made the task easier for us. Mila was way behind academically. Apparently, the eighth-grade curriculum in Arizona lagged considerably behind Ontario’s education standards. This became obvious quickly when Mila struggled mightily with her new schoolwork. One Wednesday when Dale and I breezed through our assignments as quickly as ever, Mr. Allister said to us at the end of the school day, “You two always have extra time on your hands. Instead of simply reading when you have nothing else to do, I’d like both of you to help Mila with her studies. She needs plenty of help in every subject. With the two of you as her co-tutors, I think she’d get plenty of quality assistance. I’d like to start the extra help for Mila tomorrow. What do you say? Will you volunteer to do that?”

I answered first. I simply said to Mr. Allister, “Sure, I’d love to spend my extra time helping Mila.”

Dale responded more honestly and with more details. He noted, “Actually, I’d prefer spending my extra time dating Mila; I think she’s quite fetching! Helping her with schoolwork is close enough, though. You can count me in.”

Mr. Allister smiled at Dale’s unexpected candor. He said, “I suppose if I were a 14-year-old boy...” but he never completed his sentence. He didn’t need to finish it. We both knew what he was thinking. It was agreed that Dale and I would start working with Mila the following day.

Part Two

Mila was apprised of the situation by Mr. Allister, and, to her credit, she was quite eager to receive all the extra academic help she could get. It was determined that Mila would start with the materials the rest of the class had done back in September and try to work her way through it with our help. It turned out to be a tall task.

Whenever Dale and I had finished our daily assignments well ahead of our peers, we’d head to the school library with Mila for an hour or more, always subtly admiring her good looks as she strode down the hallway. This stunning, black-haired girl could be appreciated from every angle and direction. I found her shapely backside to be very appealing.

A beautiful body does not necessarily equal a beautiful mind, though. Dale and I quickly recognized that Mila was far from being Ivy League material. We could understand that she was unfamiliar with Canadian geography, but we were amazed that she was flummoxed by American geography, too. (For example, we read a true tale about a girl our age who lived during the 1880s. Her father, a seafaring merchant, owned a cargo ship that operated out of Maine. Amazingly, Mila had never heard of that state! Moreover, she guessed it was located somewhere near Kansas!) This was not an isolated issue as Mila had difficulty understanding concepts regardless of the scholastic subject she was tackling. She simply was not very bright—and no amount of tutoring was going to fix that.

After a while, Dale and I would give up, tell Mila the correct answers to her homework, and move on to something else. Quite often the three of us were still in the library together when the bell rang to end the school day. Mr. Allister was pleased by Mila’s apparent rapid progress. He had not caught on that Mila was being spoon-fed the answers by us for every subject—and he never did.

Somehow Mila was permitted to enter high school without coming close to mastering the eighth-grade curriculum.

Part Three

MIla continued to work with Dale and me throughout her high school years—especially in the twelfth grade. In our final semester, all three of us had a spare period to conclude end of the day, so we got together for 70-minutes of study in the school library. I helped Mila with English while Dale worked on her math. We both focused on her anatomy as Mila had only gotten better looking since the eighth grade.

After an especially trying week of attempting to get Mila up to speed with her studies, we were once again stopped by the school bell. It was a Friday afternoon. The weekend would begin the moment we left the school grounds.

“I guess we’ll pick up where we left off when Monday comes, Mila,” Dale told her. “I hope you have a pleasant weekend.”

“Wait a minute, guys!” she stated as Dale and I prepared to leave the library. “I’d like to talk to both of you unless you are really in a hurry and have to leave immediately.”

“I’m in no rush,” I told her. “I can stay and talk as long as you want, Mila.” It had been another fruitless and frustrating day with Mila’s schoolwork. Therefore, I relished the opportunity to talk to her about anything other than the mountain of work she needed to do to catch up to everyone else in her classes. Dale nodded to indicate that he was in no special hurry to leave, either.

“I’d like to thank you two for doing this for me,” Mila began. “I appreciate all your help. I really do. I also appreciate the fact that you’re basically doing my assignments for me. I’m not much of a student, as you can tell. That’s nothing new for me. I was at the bottom of my class when I lived in Arizona, too.”

“Some people are great students, others aren’t,” Dale remarked rather charitably. I chose to keep my mouth shut as Dale was far more tactful than I was about academic ineptitude.

“But I’m good at lots of other things,” Mila quickly added. “For example, I’m good at sex—and I think both of you deserve to get laid for all the work you’ve been doing with me and for me since the eigth grade.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure I had heard Mila correctly. Only when I saw the totally surprised expression on Dale’s face was I reasonably certain that this swarthy, 18-year-old beauty was offering herself to both me and my friend. Of course, that was a dream scenario for the two of us. We both had wanted to ravish this excellent example of teenage femininity two seconds after we saw her. However, each of us had concluded Mila was unattainable to us as four years had passed by. Yet here she was happily offering sex to us.

“I’m not going to say no to that offer!” I said without hesitation.

Two seconds later, Dale chimed in. “I’m definitely with Stephen on this!” Then he asked, “When do you want to start and which one of us gets to go first, Mila?”

“Oh, I meant we’d do a threesome,” Mila clarified. “They’re always fun so I always enjoy them. Don’t you think so, too?”

Dale and I looked at each other for the briefest of moments before turning our eyes elsewhere. I had no idea how much sexual experience Dale had had in his 18 years, but mine was practically zilch. My kissing Melissa Stemkowski for a quarter six years before in the sixth grade was sadly one of the high points for me. A threesome that included Mila Fernandez was beyond my wildest dreams. I had an inkling that Dale was as sexually nave and inexperienced as I was. Of course, I wasn’t going to openly ask him for confirmation, and he wasn’t going to ask me, either.

Mila may have been a disaster as a scholar, but she was a perceptive girl about this topic. She sensed what we were thinking, though. “Oh, this is all new to you!” she concluded. “Back in Arizona, sex among teens is very common and casual—at least where I lived. Before I moved here, I was told that most Canadians are very stuffy about this sort of thing. I guess what I was told is true.”

“I’m willing to admit I’d be completely new at this,” I disclosed to both Mila and Dale.

“Same,” said Dale succinctly and without embarrassment.

“Well, this gives me a chance to turn things around and teach you two a few things for a change!” Mila joyfully declared. “How about that?”

We concluded that there was no time like the present. We also determined the best place for our carnal fun would be to go to Mr. Canfield's classroom. This seemed logical because he was our English teacher. Mr. Canfield had told the three of us that we could use his classroom to access any study materials Mila might need—even after regular school hours had ended. (That meant we at least had a plausible cause for being there when no one else was.) We hustled back there and managed to intercept Mr. Canfield before he left. We also encountered Mr. Freeman, the custodian, who was about to clean up that classroom as the first item on his nightly agenda. Mr. Canfield gladly allowed us to use his classroom for as long as we wanted. Mila, Dale and I just had to stay out of Mr. Freeman’s way while he did his job.

It all worked out wonderfully for the three of us. Mr. Canfield departed. We pretended to work on Mila’s English assignments while Mr. Freeman busily did his tasks throughout the room. When he was done, he said we could turn out the light and leave the classroom and the building whenever we pleased. In other words, we understood that once Mr. Freeman moved to the next classroom, he would not be returning—which meant that Mila, Dale and I could enjoy an exciting sexual threesome without any fear of being interrupted by anyone.

Five seconds after Mr. Freeman left us, we stopped the pretense of studying English and got on with the true reason for the ruse. Dale closed the door once he confirmed that the custodian had entered the classroom across the hallway. There was a low, sturdy, wooden table located at the back of the room that was occasionally used for displays. At the moment, it had nothing on it—until Mila promptly disrobed and sat on it. She took off her clothing so quickly that it disappointed me a bit. I had wanted a prolonged, sexy strip show from her! Nevertheless, the end result was excellent. Mila’s nude body was superb in every way. I was totally aroused before I removed a single article of my own clothing. I suspect Dale was the same.

“Sit on either side of me,” Mila instructed us once we had fully undressed. “I want to handle your dicks.” We readily complied. I sat on Mila’s left; Dale positioned himself on her right side. Mila quickly grabbed the shafts of our penises with each hand and began gently tugging them. That got my attention in a hurry!

“They’re both good sized,” Mila said with the authority of a girl with plenty of experience in such matters. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was an accurate comment or just hyperbolic flattery, but I didn’t really care. I accepted Mila’s kind statement as the truth. I did notice that Dale’s erection was approximately the same length and thickness as mine, so that was another thing where we were equally matched.

I wanted to please my sexy hostess, so I took the liberty of delicately fondling Mila’s terrific breasts while she was giving me a hand job. I loved that her nipples were getting hard as I handled them.

“Nice work, Stephen,” she said in a praiseful manner. “You do that very well. You don’t have to be so gentle, though.” Mila quickly looked at my buddy and added, “Dale, don’t be so shy! Get involved, too! Finger my pussy. It’s waiting for you.”

Dale and I were happy to follow such instructions. I squeezed and manipulated Mila’s tits at will and then began sucking on them. In less than a minute, Dale advanced from meekly touching Mila’s hairy vagina to vigorously jamming two fingers inside it. Mila’s enthusiastic sound effects let us know we two novices were doing at least a passable job in plesing her sexually.

The table we were using was only about two feet tall, so it made a perfect venue for the next sex acts that Mila proffered. She knelt on it and said she wanted me to give her pussy a good fucking from behind while she performed fellatio on Dale. Again, we both thought those were two marvelous suggestions!

It seemed like the table had been designed specifically with this sex act in mind. I moved behind Mila and caressed her lovely butt cheeks for a few seconds before I shoved my penis into her vagina with one strong thrust. (Mila moaned slightly, so I knew I had done it correctly.) Meanwhile, Dale had put his stiff rod into Mila’s warm mouth. From the happy sounds he was making, it was clearly the best feeling he had ever experienced.

I had gotten into a comfortable rhythm sliding my aroused dick into Mila as deeply as I could and then withdrawing it to the point where it nearly came out of her vagina. This was a learn-as-you-go experience for me—and a sensational one to be sure. I lasted about three minutes. That was long enough for me to hear Mila request, “Pull out and cum on my bum, Stephen.”

Those words were surprisingly clear. She must have removed Dale’s penis from her mouth to say them. I did something like Mila asked, but not exactly. I placed my penis between the top of her butt cheeks, tugged at my penis three times, and shot a huge load of semen that splattered on Mila’s lower back. Her bum got very little of my load. She didn’t seem to mind, however. “That feels like it was a big amount, Stephen, ” she eventually said. “You did a great job!”

Somehow Dale had managed not to ejaculate inside Mila’s mouth. (I silently doubted that I could have controlled myself as long as he did without having a massive orgasm.) Dale made a request. “Mila, I want to fuck your pussy, too, before I come.”

“Sure!” Mila enthusiastically agreed. “You two can switch places now. I want to lick and suck every drop of cum that’s left in Stephen’s dick.”

That was certainly an enticing offer, so I had no objections whatsoever. Mila did precisely what she said she’d do to me. Her sucks and licks got me hard quickly. Sadly, I was physically spent from my ejaculation, so nothing of further significance was going to happen with it. Dale’s dick replaced mine in Mila’s vagina. He only lasted about a minute before he lost his load. Dale was mindful of pulling out without being told. His ropes of thick, white goo mostly struck Mila’s cute bottom, with a few small strands mixing with mine on her back.

Trying our best to be gentlemanly, Dale got the box of tissues from Mr. Canfield's desk, and I found half a roll of paper towels that were stored in a cupboard not far from the table. Together the two of us cleaned our coital deposits from Mila’s body. Dale also took the opportunity to thoroughly fondle Mila’s fine breasts. He had missed out on groping these treasures because I had been occupied with them during or three-way romp.

“That was great, Mila. Thanks a lot!” I gushed. Dale expressed similar sentiments.

“Let’s make this a Friday afternoon tradition,” Mila suggested as we all got dressed and prepared to leave. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for what you’ve been doing for me since we began working together on my school assignments years ago.”

Dale and I quickly agreed to that long-term proposition. We also were emboldened enough to suggest different sexual acts and positions that we’d like to try with her during future romps. (I was particularly keen to give Mila a titty-fuck and shoot a big load of jism all over them.) Mila was wonderfully open-minded about it all. She then put on her coat, grabbed her belongings, and cutely waved goodbye to us. She strode out the classroom and out of the school as if nothing especially meaningful had occurred in her life. Meanwhile, Dale and I were both deliriously overjoyed by this unexpected sexual treat we had just received from the sexiest girl in our school.

“It looks like I won,” I casually informed him.

“What are you talking about?” Dale asked me.

I smiled and replied, “It took four years, but I screwed Mila before you did—by about three minutes.”