Part One

Even when he was a toddler, people would comment that my nephew, Jason Grantham, was a handsome boy. I remember hearing those compliments before he’d even begun school. As he grew, Jason became the tallest boy in his class and an excellent athlete. It’s little wonder that he attracted the attention of girls well before he appreciated it.

My name is Darrin Coletti. The first inkling I had that Jason was the target of his female classmates’ affection was when he was 10 years old. My sister Caroline (Jason’s mother) invited me to attend one of his Saturday morning hockey games and then come to her house for lunch. It was typically about a 30-minute drive for me, so I said I’d meet her at the arena as long as the weather didn’t turn nasty.

There was no threat of a snowstorm, so my drive was an easy and pleasant one. I recognized my sister’s car in the arena’s parking lot. There were perhaps 60 spectators in a venue that held 3, 000 people, so I had no trouble spotting Caroline. I sat beside her. Jason’s game would begin in about 10 minutes.

We started chatting about trivial things when Caroline drew my attention to something she found amusing. “Jason’s fan club has arrived!” she announced as she pointed to five preteen girls who had just arrived and had taken seats in the section beside us. They were all carrying homemade signs to specifically support Jason. Some were generic (“Score a goal for me, Jason!”). Others were quite blunt (“We love #10 Jason!”). By fifth-grade standards, every one of the smitten girls was a cutie.

“Who are these girls...and does this happen at every game?” I asked Caroline.

“They are all Jason’s schoolmates, ” Caroline informed me. “From what I gather, a couple of them aren’t even in his class. When they learned his hockey schedule, they’ve been here every Saturday morning with their signs to get his attention and root him on.” This was Jason’s sixth game of the season. “Jason thinks they’re nutty, though. He gets kidded about it by his teammates and his opponents, so he tries not to acknowledge the girls are even in the arena.”

Thinking back to when I was 10 years old, I could recall two or three pretty girls whose attention I’d craved. Perhaps I had an early start at appreciating the opposite sex. Nevertheless, I concluded that although the five girls with the signs may be nutty, my uninterested nephew was nuttier for ignoring them!

Halfway through the game, I approached the girls and introduced myself as Jason’s Uncle Darrin. That got their attention immediately. I told them, “I understand you attend all my nephew’s hockey games to root him on. That’s marvelous! I want to thank you for that. I also understand that Jason is a little bit overwhelmed by your attention. When the game ends, I’ll try to get him to at least wave at you. In the meantime, please allow me to buy all of you hot chocolate. Consider it my treat.” My offer was accepted and I headed off to the concession booth to make my purchase.

When the game ended, I shouted at the girls to remain in their seats. I rushed down to ice level and got Jason’s attention. He skated over to the boards to say hello as I didn’t often get to many of his sporting events. I said, “Two things, Jason: First, you played very well today. That was a great pass you made to set up the winning goal. Second, I understand those five girls holding those signs are here every Saturday—and you refuse to acknowledge them. Athletes should always be nice to their fans, Jason! Would you please wave and smile at them? They’d really appreciate it.”

Jason looked at me as if I had lost my mind, but he did what I said. He removed both his gloves and waved at the girls with both hands. I reminded him to smile at them, too. He did—and I heard one of them squeal with delight.

“See how happy you made them with that simple, polite gesture!” I noted. “Thanks! Do it every Saturday. Your mother invited me for lunch, so I’ll see you at home in a little while.” Jason skated off the ice and headed to his dressing room. I waved at the girls, too. They waved back and yelled thank-yous to me.

By the end of the hockey season, Jason had figured out that having five smitten girls attending his hockey games and prominently cheering for him wasn’t such a bad thing at all. In fact, it got to the point, at the end of each game, where Jason would signal them to approach ice level for a brief chat. Instead of being the first player on his team to return to the dressing room, he was now the last one. He was still razzed by his teammates and opponents about his “fan club, ” but now he just accused them of jealousy.

Part Two

When Jason entered middle school, his legion of female admirers grew exponentially according to anecdotal evidence provided by his mother. Caroline was a music teacher there. She’d often overhear conversations among the girls in which her son was described as “studly” and “a genuine hunk”. Caroline would pretend not to hear the remarks, but she took great delight in relaying them to Jason who was still a little bit embarrassed by his celebrity status at school.

One comment she did not pass along came from one of the shapelier but utterly insipid girls in the seventh grade. She loudly told her friend before music class one day, “I want to get Jason into my bed and ride his dick for so long that it completely falls off his body!” Caroline handled it well. She told the girl, “Perhaps you don’t know that Jason Grantham is my son. I figured every girl in this school knew that because we have the same uncommon last name.” The vapid girl stared at Caroline in amazement because she honestly hadn’t considered that possibility!

By the time Jason was in the eighth grade, Caroline reported to me that Jason “could have a harem if he so desired.” He didn’t desire that at all. Instead, he had acquired Wendy Baxter, age 14, as his first girlfriend. I met her at a barbecue one Saturday at my sister’s home as the school year was coming to an end. I was struck by how very ordinary Wendy was, considering Jason apparently could have had the pick of a hundred girls at his school—including the stunningly attractive ones.

By having a one-to-one chat with her, I discovered that Wendy was a delightful gal, full of life, very intelligent, and quite devoted to my nephew. I figured Wendy was the type of girl who would be fun to have as a partner for a two-person school project. She was about 5’5” tall and wore steel-rimmed eyeglasses. Wendy had an okay build for a girl her age (but was a little bit on the skinny side based on my preferences), a narrow nose, and straight, dirty blonde hair that dipped below her shoulders. Basically, Wendy seemed quite unremarkable to me. The adjective “nondescript” came to my mind if I had to choose a single, perfect word to describe her. Still, Wendy loved my nephew and he loved her, so everything else was just trivial.

Jason and Wendy remained a couple through high school. When they were both 18, I got a call from my sister inviting me to my brother-in-law’s birthday party at her house. I accepted, of course. As an aside, I asked if Jason and Wendy would be there, too.

“Oh, yes, ” Caroline declared, then she said with a bit of a chuckle in her voice. “They finally had their first spat the other day. It was about sex.”

Based on my own personal experience, I replied, “Let me guess: He wants it from her, but Wendy doesn’t want to put out.”

“Nope!” Caroline surprisingly told me. “You have it completely backwards. She wants it, but Jason thinks it would be wrong.”

“What?” I immediately shouted into the receiver.

“Yeah, apparently Jason has developed old-fashioned morals about premarital sex—especially for females. He thinks girls should be virgins before marriage and that boys should be encouraged to practice celibacy, too. Casual sex is a big no-no to him.”

I was dumbfounded for a few seconds before quipping, “When Daylight Savings Time came into effect, did Jason turn back the clock 50 years? Most boys his age would jump at the opportunity to bed any girl who wasn’t hideous. I know that was how my mind worked at his age. He actually told you about this?”

“Yeah! Amazing, isn’t it?” said Caroline. “To tell you the truth, I’m actually kind of proud of Jason for having scruples and living by them.”

“I disagree. I think Jason has a loose screw somewhere inside that head of his, ” I informed my sister. “I can’t believe he can be related to me and think that way!”

Part Three

At the birthday party, I mustered the courage to whisper a question to Wendy when she was standing alone for a few moments: “I understand you want to have sexual relations with Jason, but he’s reluctant. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t get it, ” Wendy said as we moved out of earshot of everyone else at the party. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before, Darrin, and therefore I’ve never had sex before. I was under the impression that boys were easy to coerce into bed.”

“When I was 18, I certainly would have been easily coerced, that’s for sure, ” I responded in agreement. “As long as the girl had a pulse, two digits in her age, and no obvious diseases, I’d happily comply with any sexual invitation. In fact, I always have to this day.”

“Well, it’s a shame that your nephew doesn’t have the same outlook on life as you do, Darrin, ” Wendy noted. “I’m eager to have sex. I guess I’m just like you were at age 18.”

I promptly joked, “...And at age 28, 38, and beyond.”

“How old are you now?” she asked me.

I answered, “I’ll be 44 years old in about a month—and I still have the opposite of my nephew’s morality when it comes to sex. Of course, the act is primarily designed for the proliferation of the human species, but I truly believe it can be a pleasurable, recreational activity, that should not be shunned because of outdated, puritanical beliefs. I try to prove that as often as I can. I’m unmarried and unattached, so I can play the field.”

“Does ‘playing the field’ apply to someone my age, still?” she asked me. I sensed our conversation was drifting into interesting territory.

I hesitated before answering. “Yes. If you are talking about yourself specifically, Wendy, you meet all my criteria for a bedmate.”

Wendy quickly replied, “This may sound completely crazy, Darrin, but do you want to have a fuck with me? I’m happy to do it for the sake of gaining experience.”

I was taken aback by Wendy’s offer, but pleasantly so.

“What about my nephew wanting to marry a virgin?” I asked her.

“To hell with that! I want to have some carnal fun in my life while I’m young! So, are you interested, Darrin?”

“Most definitely I am!” I replied. “I adored having a teenage girl as a sex partner when I was a teen. I enjoy it all the more since I hit 40. Bedding a virgin is an added bonus.”

Wendy and I came up with a plan and executed it. After the big birthday meal was over and a suitable amount of time had passed, Wendy told Jason she was tired and wished to go home. She further claimed I had volunteered to give her a ride since she lived reasonably close to my route out of town. Everyone bought the fib, so off we went. We were actually headed to an inexpensive motel located on the highway. I had used it a couple of times before for such trysts.

When we got to the motel’s parking lot, I told Wendy it would look better if we both went inside the office while I rented us a room rather than her staying in the car until I got the room key. “I’ll introduce you as my daughter. You’re the right age. It’s plausible, ” I said.

I asked for a room for two hours using the name Baker as an alias. I told the clerk, “My daughter isn’t feeling well. We’re in the middle of a long trip, so we’re just taking a short rest here.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, miss, ” replied the clerk with a grin on his face. “I hope you get to feeling well soon. I recall that your sister came here one night with your father. She wasn’t feeling well, either. It’s really a remarkable coincidence.”

I hadn’t figured on the clerk recognizing me from a past visit. I certainly didn’t remember him.

“Okay, you caught me in a lie, ” I acknowledged. “Are you still going to rent us a room for two hours?”

“Certainly, I am!” he stated. “I don’t care if she’s your daughter, or your grandmother, or the Crown Princess of Denmark. As long as you pay for it right now, you can have a room for whatever shenanigans you want to do. I assume a room with one bed adequately suits your needs. If so, here’s the key to Room #16. Have a good fuck together.”

I shook his hand, paid him, and then took Wendy’s hand and led her to distant Room #16.

Part Four

Recognizing that the naive teenage girl I was going to screw was a virgin, I assured her that I would be as gentle and loving as possible. Wendy surprised me by saying, “Don’t be too delicate with me, Darrin. I want to enjoy it!” I moderated my promise to be reasonably gentle with her.

I wasted no time in getting down to business once I opened the door to Room #16 and turned on the lights. I was down to my underwear easily inside of a minute. Wendy had dressed fairly well for the party—at least considerably better than I had—so she had more garments to shed than I did. She took her time doing so. I was getting more and more aroused by this girl whom I thought to be nothing special. She looked terrific in panty hose; her athletic-looking legs were her best feature. She playfully tossed her nylons at me and then got rid of her bra and panties in short order. I dropped my briefs to the floor and started to give my rod a few tugs to get it as hard as possible. “Hey, isn’t that my job?” Wendy asked me.

“It certainly can be if you want it to be!” was my cheerful answer as we met in the center of the bed.

“Darrin, tell me if I’m doing this right, ” Wendy insisted as she began to give me a hand job. Despite having zero experience at sex, she had a deft touch and used the proper speed and strength in her tugs.

“Yes, you’re doing it right! There’s little doubt about that!” I said. It was so pleasurable that I was severely tempted to just lie lifelessly on my back until I came, but I figured that would be a waste of a perfectly good 18-year-old girl. I sat up beside her and played with her slightly undersized tits while she continued to yank on my dick.

“This is fun so far, ” Wendy informed me. “I like how you fondle my breasts, Darrin. I can tell you’ve done this before.”

“Maybe once or twice, ” I kiddingly replied. “It’s something I never tire of doing. I just love it when my hands are full of tits. They can be breast buds or big jugs. Their size is actually irrelevant to me.”

“Really? What about the size of my boobs, Darrin? They’re kind of small compared to some girls’ melons I see at school.”

I was starting to like Wendy more and more, notwithstanding the fact that she was stroking my dick like a pro, so I answered her honestly. “Yes, it would be nice if your boobs were a little bit bigger, Wendy, but you’re just 18. They’re likely not done growing yet. Who knows? Maybe in five or six years you’ll end up being featured in one of those porn magazines that have nothing but gals with huge whoppers.”

We both laughed, then I said I wanted to pleasure her vaginal area. Wendy was all in favor of that! I remembered my promise to be gentle with her, but not overly so. Therefore, I combined long licks with thrusts of my right middle finger inside her sexy pussy. Wendy really seemed to like that, so I began putting two and then three fingers inside her at a time. Within a short time, I brought her to a very watery orgasm that made her yelp with delight. She thanked me!

I made a point of giving Wendy’s moist nether regions a few more licks before I announced it was now time to get serious about fucking. I was about to mount her when Wendy asked if it would be better if she sucked on my penis first!

“Thanks for the offer, Wendy!” I replied. “I’ll gladly accept it!”

I lied on the same spot where Wendy had just been pleasured by me. She grabbed my shaft with her right hand, examined it for a moment, and then covered its head with her lips.

I gave her immediate feedback. “That’s fine so far, Wendy. Just pretend my penis is a popsicle. Lick and suck on it.” She did a passable job for a first-timer. I asked her for one special favor, though. “Use the tip of your tongue on the part of my dick where the opening is. That’s my most sensitive area. If feels great when any girl does that to me.” Again, Wendy did alright with that task—and I told her so.

“That’s good. I’m glad. I was so afraid I’d give you a bad blowjob, Darrin, ” Wendy said with relief.

“I don’t think there is such a thing as a bad blow job, ” I told her sincerely. “There are just various levels of excellence. My dick is well stimulated, so you achieved success.” That was no lie; my penis felt as stiff as the leg of a metal chair. It was definitely time to put it to use.

I repositioned Wendy on her back and gave her one instruction: “Spread your legs so we can do what we came here to do—have a great fuck together.” Wendy quickly complied. I slid my hard, throbbing penis inside her warm, moist vagina without any hesitation. It entered her with ease. The further I penetrated, though, the tighter the fit—which I enjoyed. When I asked her, “Am I pleasing you with my dick, Wendy?” she smiled, nodded in agreement, and finally said, “Oh, yes!” in a soft voice.

I could feel the pressure begin to mount in my phallus. Wendy seemed to be the fertile type to me, so I was taking no chances. I pulled out of her pussy well ahead of time. Wendy was about to ask me why the fucking had stopped when I squirted four ropes of warm, white jism onto her body. The second and most powerful blast struck her face. I hadn’t intended to do that. Most of my goo, however, landed between her tits and her navel. I was quite pleased with my performance and let out a cry of ecstasy.

There was a box of tissues nearby. I grabbed a handful and handed them to my bedmate so she could clean herself up. I did the same, wiping a few wayward drops of semen from my testicles and shaft. I looked at the clock and noticed we had been in Room #16 for about 25 minutes. We still had lots of time left.

As I moved to the top of the bed to embrace Wendy, I realized something which I said aloud. “It occurs to me that we’ve fucked, but we haven’t kissed yet, Wendy! I’m a romantic guy. Let’s spend the next 90 minutes or so hugging and kissing. I bet you’re good at that, too.”

Wendy cheerfully agreed. For the next hour that’s all we did. It was fun, but it wasn’t close to being as satisfying as a good fuck. I talked Wendy into letting me screw her from behind while she was kneeling at the end of the bad and I was standing. Wendy had a lovely bottom. I figured it deserved to be covered with a cum shot, too, so that was where I eventually ejaculated.

I was physically spent. A cold shower helped invigorate me. Wendy took one, too.

I joked, “Normally I’d shower with you, Wendy, but it might lead to a third round of fucking. We can’t have that.”

Showing she had a sharp wit, Wendy replied, “You’re right, Darrin. I think this classy motel has a two-fuck maximum.”

As we were getting dressed, Wendy thanked me for her first sexual experience. That was a first for me; I was always the grateful partner in my previous trysts. She said, “I learned plenty: I like guys in their forties. I enjoy giving hand jobs. Blowjobs are doable but they’re not my favorite sex act. I like having my tits fondled. I like having fingers shoved up my vagina and having it licked, too. I really like intercourse, but I disliked your cum shot hitting my face.” After a brief pause, Wendy asked me, “Did you learn anything from our romp tonight, Darrin?”

“Yes, ” I replied. “I learned that my nephew is the biggest fool on the planet. However, I think I already knew that. Our trip to the motel just confirmed it for me.”