Part One

My name is Ted Williamson. My father, a huge baseball fan, used to kid me that if I had two fewer letters in my surname, I’d be the greatest hitter who ever lived. Naturally, I became a big baseball fan, too—and a great admirer of the famous Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox who had retired as a player in 1960, several years before I was born. However, this story has nothing whatsoever to do with the grand old game. It has to do with my sister’s highly flirtatious school chum. Her name was Marissa Blake.

When I first encountered Marissa, she was an average-looking girl who typically wore her curly black hair short. She had one brother who was seven years older than she was. “I wasn’t planned; I was an accident,” Marissa proudly told my parents one evening when she was a dinner guest and my mother inquired about her family. My father laughed out loud at the remark. My mother opted for silent shock. I’m quite sure my sister (Jennifer) had no idea what Marissa was talking about.

Jennifer was more than three years younger than I was. She was my only sibling. As Jennifer was a bit on the shy side, it was a bit of a puzzlement how she and Marissa became such close friends. I suppose it was because Marissa lived just across the street and she seemed to be in Jennifer’s class at school every year. Marissa was a classic extrovert. On some level, I suspect that Jennifer envied Marissa’s likable, free-spirited nature and total lack of reserve.

The first time Marissa came to my house, the seven-year-old took an immediate liking to me. She began touching, pawing, and groping me without a whole lot of subtlety. Jennifer was amazed by her friend’s open behavior. As I was just ten years old, girls didn’t hold much appeal to me yet—and I stupidly tried to avoid being within an arm’s length of Marissa. However, Marissa was undaunted and continued to maul me whenever the opportunity presented itself. This amorous behavior went on for years. I eventually grew to expect it. When puberty hit, I finally began to enjoy it. I then began to hug Marissa whenever she touched me. Sometimes I instigated the contact. Since Marissa started to show the telltale signs of impending womanhood shortly after her ninth birthday, I began to enjoy our frequent embraces more and more each day. Of course, I was a gentleman; I never let my behavior with this girl—or Marissa’s own behavior—get beyond playful hugs and kisses.

Part Two

The summer when Marissa was 10 and I was 13, she accompanied us to our usual summer vacation locale as Jennifer’s guest. It was a cabin we rented for 10 days each July on the shores of Lake Huron. We had vacationed there annually for as long as I could remember. In fact, I vaguely remember my mother being noticeably pregnant with Jennifer one year. The lake was conveniently situated about a three-minute walk down a sandy path from the cabin’s front door. One afternoon I went out for a walk on a steamy, humid day. I intended to make it a long stroll, but the heat was too oppressive for it to be a pleasurable jaunt. I only walked for half the distance I set out to do. I headed back to the cabin. The only place I’d be walking to that day was to the lake for a cool dip.

When I approached the cabin, I could hear no activity, so I correctly assumed that everyone else had headed to the lake for a refreshing swim. Actually, I was only partially correct. When I entered the cabin, I saw more than I should have. Marissa was standing near the kitchen. She was in the middle of changing into her swimsuit—literally the halfway point of the task—as she had neither clothes nor her bathing suit on at the moment I barged in. I maybe got a three-second glance at her in the buff. I liked what I saw in that brief glimpse, of course, but my good upbringing got the better of me. I closed my eyes, turned around, and promptly apologized to Marissa for the accidental intrusion. I made a hasty retreat out the door to give Marissa some deserved privacy.

I think I was still babbling an apology when Marissa said something that startled me, “It’s okay, Ted. I didn’t mind you walking in on me. I was kind of hoping you would. That’s why I waited until everyone else had headed to the lake. I was hoping you’d come along for a swim too. I had taken my clothes off five minutes ago—in case you shortened your walk.”

“That’s very flattering, Marissa,” I told her. “Really, it is, but I shouldn’t be seeing you without any clothes on. It’s just wrong—and I could get into loads of trouble over it. Get into your swimsuit and let’s join the others down at the lake.”

Marissa complied and put on her one-piece pink swimsuit. She looked great in it. I got into my swimsuit, too, in the bedroom. I can’t say it as a certainty, but from the rustling outside my bedroom window, I suspect that Marissa was trying to peek at me while I was changing. What a wild girl Jennifer had chosen to be her best friend! I did hold Marissa’s hand as we walked down the path toward the beach. “You fool!” she softly chastised me. “You blew a golden opportunity, Ted.” I suppose she was right.

Later that night when we were having a campfire and my father and I were the last two lingering around it, I told Dad about my walking in on Marissa while she was changing. I outright stated that, based on Marissa’s comments, she had wanted me to catch her in her birthday suit. Dad was predictably aghast. It wasn’t because of what had happened but that I hadn’t taken advantage of the situation! He stated, “You’re 13 years old now, Ted. Hormones are cruising through your body. You’ve got a cute, naked girl saying it’s okay if you intrude on her while she’s changing. Son you’re either the most virtuous adolescent male presently on the planet or you’re a damned fool! I’m surprised the two of us are related!” That was the second time that day that someone had labeled me as a fool.

Part Three

A few years went by. It was 1986 now. I was 21 years old, and Jennifer and Marissa were both 17. With the passage of time, Marissa had developed into quite a fetching high-school girl. Her face was still the same—very average—but her physique was quite curvy and thoroughly appealing to any red-blooded male. Frankly, Marissa Blake was a total sexpot regardless of her age or the ages of those males gazing upon her with admiration. Her sex appeal was undeniable. You couldn’t help but notice it. Once, during one of Marissa’s frequent visits to our house, Dad whispered to me, “Don’t you wish you could have gotten in on the ground floor of that, Ted? Remember, you could have!” Dad liked to constantly needle me about my missed opportunity with Marissa back in 1979. He seemed to enjoy doing it. Luckily for me, Marissa was still as “handsy” as ever with me, constantly touching and groping me subtly when someone else was in the room—and more brazenly when we were alone. That day, I determined that if I was ever given a second opportunity to enjoy Marissa’s body in the best possible way, I’d jump at the chance.

That opportunity presented itself just one day later. I got a telephone call from Marissa. She wanted me to come to her house to see something right away. She didn’t say exactly what it was, but I was hoping it was more of what I had seen at the cabin in 1979. Frankly, Marissa had a lot more to see as a 17-year-old compared to when she was a little girl of 10. I quickly agreed and headed to her house. I had never set foot in the Blakes’ home a single time before this day.

“Come in, Ted! I’m all alone!” Marissa said as she opened the front door. (She seemed to emphasize the important word “alone”.) “I have something to show you that I know you’d like to see. At least I’m fairly sure you’d like to see it.”

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Marissa led me into the Blakes’ rec room where there was a large color television hooked up to a video cassette recorder. VCRs were all the rage in 1986. Everybody seemed to be buying them that year since the price was now a quarter of what it was when they first came onto the market in the mid-1970s. My family was a bit of a statistical outlier for not yet having one. “Have a seat on the couch and watch this,” Marissa instructed me.

I had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t fairly graphic pornography—which was what Marissa had activated using a remote control. She explained, “I came across my big brother’s stash of porno movies today. They’re supposed to be a secret that no one else here knows about. He thought he had successfully hidden them from everyone else in the house. He was wrong. I found them in an obscure corner of the laundry room downstairs. He has about a dozen of them.”

I was barely listening to Marissa. I was transfixed by the carnal action on the screen. The movie was presently showing a pretty actress with small, perky breasts having her vagina licked by a man who was likely twice her age. He was apparently pleasing her quite well, judging by her facial expressions and incoherent utterances of pure delight. I was getting horny watching it. I think that was Marissa’s plan.

Marissa quickly sat beside me and began sensually touching herself below the beltline of the sky-blue pair of shorts she was wearing. She said, “I wish I had someone to do that to me. It looks fabulous.”

I remembered the promise I had made to myself just the day before—and I acted upon it. Therefore, I wasted no time in saying, “Marissa, if that’s a serious offer, I’d love to lick your pussy just like that guy is doing in the porno flick.”

Marissa sighed sexily and said to me, “That’s great! That’s what I’d hoped you’d say, Ted. Please eat my pussy!” Without further ado, Marissa stripped off her shorts and panties. She was already barefoot.

I positioned her on the couch so I could kneel beside her on a pillow and lick and suck on her most private part with the greatest possible comfort. Her vagina was a thing of beauty. It had been recently shaved. It was puffy in all the right places. I immediately placed my face between her thighs and began to please my sister’s best friend with my probing tongue. I wished I had been blessed with a longer one like a couple of my friends possessed. (Steve Delahanty could lick the tip of his nose! That was an impressive feat!) We left the porn film running. I kind of liked having the actress’s sexy groans as background noise.

I licked away to my heart’s content. I was so engrossed by what I was doing to her nether regions that I didn’t see that Marissa had silently removed her top and brassiere. Now on display were her lovely set of jiggly teenage breasts. They only caught my attention when Marissa asked me, “Ted, do you like my tits?” Then I saw them. They were marvelous attributes. I altered my focus to them for several wonderful minutes. It was difficult to say which body part of Marissa’s my tongue enjoyed more—her nipples or her pussy. Let’s call it a draw.

I was extremely aroused, so I quickly undressed and put my erect penis to work. That was why I had one! While standing off to the side of the couch, I placed the head of my shaft at the entrance to Marissa’s wet vaginal opening and shoved it inside her without saying a word. It was a welcoming crevice. I suppose it was a long overdue action on my part. I gave Marissa several firm thrusts of my dick which caused her to groan. When I stopped for just a moment, she impatiently urged me to continue with “the fabulous fucking”. After receiving such high praise, I could hardly say no. I smiled, thanked Marissa for the fine compliment, and resumed our intercourse enthusiastically.

Marissa’s many physical charms were too great for me to long endure. After only about two minutes, I had to pull my throbbing rod out of her vagina and launch a powerful load of semen near her sexy tits. The thick goo created ropes and puddles on her body. It was an unforgettable sight for me. My dick seemingly took forever to return to its flaccid norm after I came. Marissa was more than helpful with a long series of sensual licks of her own that kept me hard and ready for another round of screwing. (Marissa really did enjoy all aspects of having sex. Her free spirit was being duly rewarded.) I happily reentered Marissa with doggy-style coitus. It took me approximately 15 minutes to attain a second orgasm—but it was certainly time well spent. There was no doubting that. I liked the deep penetration and I could play with Marissa’s luscious boobs while I pounded her pussy. This time I timed my release so I pulled out of her vagina with about ten seconds to spare. I chose to ejaculate on Marissa’s back. I left a big puddle of jism there, too.

“Oh why, oh why did I wait so many years to have a sexual relationship with you, Marissa?” I asked without really expecting a reply. “You were right, my dear! So was my father: I was a damned fool because what you sneakily brought me to your house to do today is absolutely fabulous.”

“You’ll get no argument from me, Ted! None at all!” Marissa replied before giving me a very passionate kiss on my lips. When that excellent smooch ended, she added, “I’m just annoyed that we both missed out on so much intimate fun for years. Do you figure you have a third orgasm in your balls for me today, Ted? I’ve waited so long to be intimate with you that I’m willing to risk overdoing it!”

Even though I was a young, healthy male, I doubted I could summon a third blast of cum no matter what sexy things Marissa might do to provoke one. Instead, as a novel winddown activity, we watched two of her brother’s pornographic videotapes in their entirety. This was a new experience for both of us. The plots of the movies were patently ridiculous, but neither one of us cared. I liked the busty females and was impressed that the male actors could hold their ejaculations for so long. (I suspected there was considerable editing done that produced this illusion.) Marissa was solely impressed by the males’ sizable phalluses—and nothing else.

The final scene of the second movie featured the male star ejaculating over the leading lady’s face. “Hey, I loved that! What a great way to finish!” I firmly declared without being specifically asked about it by Marissa.

My sex partner shrugged her shoulders and said, “It seems messy and it seems a bit degrading to the girl, but it’s definitely a perfect method of birth control. There’s zero chance of pregnancy occurring. Yeah, we can do that next time we screw, Ted.” After a slight pause, Marissa corrected herself. “I mean, you can do that next time, Ted!”

I laughed and said I needed to get dressed and head home.

“Why the hurry?” Marissa asked me. “Is anything wrong at your house?”

“Everything is fine and everybody is fine,” I responded. “However, there are a few things I must tell my father that he’s been waiting to hear for many years.”