Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Want to Know About Wolfie's First Time?

Wolfie's bored now with teasing you. He's in the mood to talk. Wander over to "like" his page at https://www.facebook.com/PETERANDTHEWOLFTRILOGY/ Then hurry to nominate the book at https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/2VR2J43ESMK0D. If it wins a publishing contract, you win a free e-copy. Commercial over. Wolfie will be howling at your back door if you want him.

Chapter One - Wolfie's First Time

Peter Dempsey stood, hands in his pockets, and watched the last minutes of his seventeenth year tick away. “Doot-da-doot-doot-doot-doo.” He repeated the nonsense syllables over and over, unable to figure out whether they belonged to a song he’d heard, one he’d written, or one that wanted to be written. He shrugged and filed them in a corner of his brain, only to find himself repeating them a moment later. He tore his eyes away from the red sweep second hand to survey his attic hideaway. Clothes? Stowed. Desk? Cleared and home to a milk glass vase of autumn chrysanthemums and a foil-covered platter of crackers, cheese, and salami. Next to the bed sat a cooler filled with ice, Coke, and a six-pack of Bud his brother Bobby had donated to the festivities.
Twenty-eight minutes—shoot! His well-laid plan had a Rottweiler-sized hole in it. Bruno would wake the neighborhood the second Delaney rounded the corner of the house. He couldn’t risk his parents waking up. Not tonight, of all nights. He ran toward the dormer window, ducking low to avoid the unfinished rafters that posed a continual threat to his rangy frame.
            Peter would have denied any form of superstition, but as he always did, he slapped the photo of “The Celestial Siren” as he passed. His dad, a Navy petty officer disabled at Pearl Harbor, had an extensive collection of nose art—those scantily clad women who decorated B-17 bombers. Several of these had climbed the attic stairs to Peter’s walls. He liked to think anyone entering his space believed he had a keen appreciation of history, maybe art, rather than ravenous teen hormones.
Alert for sounds inside the house, he eased the window open. His brother Fred nailed the 2x4s to the maple below sometime in the forties. The last Dempsey brother to use this hidden egress, Peter hit the first step as Delaney’s car pulled into the driveway. He swung down with an easy grace and ran to the dog run. Bruno trotted over so Peter could grab his collar. A “Celestial Siren” moved toward them. Peter shushed the growling dog as the most gorgeous woman God ever made smiled in the moonlight.
“What are you doing down here?”
Peter pointed. “Dog.” He took Delaney in his arms and kissed her. “Come on.”
He put her foot on the lowest rung. “You can’t climb in these shoes.” He dropped to one knee to remove her high-heeled sandals.
“Oooh, Prince Charming.”
Peter slid the shoes into his back pockets. “That’s me. I’m right behind you. If you fall, fall on me.”
She rewarded his chivalry with a remarkable view of long, long legs, perfect derriere, and moon-gilded curls. She stepped through the window and stretched her hand to him. “Shhh.”
Peter clambered in after her. He’d jacked off four or five times that day imagining the impending events and still felt about to explode.
Delaney clutched her purse to her bosom. “What time is it?”
He pulled her to the bed. “It’s three-seventeen.”
Delaney hung her purse on the hook Peter had installed for that purpose months ago, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It can’t be three-seventeen. I left my house at ten after. Is your clock running?”
Peter set her sandals gently on the floor and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “Second hand. Going around.”
“Maybe it’s not right.”
Peter selected his watch from the clutter on the bedside stand, frowned at it, threw it back, and shrugged. “Twenty-two more minutes, babe.”
Delaney’s pout reminded Peter of the naughty thoughts that had haunted his day.
She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Take your shirt off.”
Whatever Delaney asked, Peter gave.
Delaney knelt between his thighs. “Oh, God, I want you.”
“Have me.” Peter slipped a finger inside the hem of her lavender shorts.
“I’m scared.”
“Laney, you’re the one who’s done this before.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” She pulled his lips down to hers.
“I don’t even know if it really happened. It was thirty seconds and gloopy stuff all over my thighs.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, the hell with it.” Delaney started to wrestle with the tiny mother of pearl buttons on the front of her heliotrope blouse. “Why did I wear all these buttons?”
Always helpful, Peter sat up. “Make way for piano player fingers.”
“I can’t take it a second longer.” Delaney avoided Peter’s hands and ripped her top open. “Do me, Dempsey.” She stripped off her shorts.
Peter scrambled out of his jeans.
She fell to his bed and Peter winced at the familiar squeak of the springs on the iron bed. He couldn’t care about that at this particular moment.
He remembered what Bobby had told him that afternoon on the porch swing. “Look, there’s no big mystery. If you’re going in, you’re doing it right.” Stunned by the sight in front of him, he watched delicious Delaney scoot to the middle of the bed, her cornflower blue eyes on him as she flipped her golden curls out of the way. She held her arms out to him.
He sat next to her and stroked her thigh. She shook her head. “Hunh-uh. I’m as turned on as you are. Just do it.”
She bent her knees and spread them so he could crawl into position. He did it right; he went in. She dug her nails into his ass. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe…”
Peter loved Delaney. He managed to drag his consciousness from the astounding sensation of her pussy’s embrace. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Things are very good. You are mine. I own you forever. Don’t even think about leaving me. And keep doing that until further notice.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
“God, yes. Shhh. My parents.” He nibbled Delaney’s lips.
Delaney opened her mouth for his tongue. She kissed him as avidly as he kissed her. She raised her pelvis to meet his over and over, and began to gasp for breath. “Something’s happening.”
“What, baby?”
“I think I’m…Keep doing that.”
She covered her mouth so only whimpers spilled out. Her pussy ground against his cock. She spasmed around him and he lost control. His muscles throbbed in his belly and thighs until they dissolved and he collapsed against her. He inhaled her scent with ragged breaths. Jasmine? Honeysuckle? One of those aromas that whispered of exotic nights. He laughed at himself. Idiot boy poet even at a moment like this. He lifted his head to look at Delaney. “Did you…?”
She licked her lips, pushed her honey-colored curls back from her brow, met Peter’s eyes. “If I didn’t, I will die if I do. How come it’s nothing like that when I do it myself?”
Peter could only shake his head helplessly.
“My nipples are so…”
Peter bent down and sucked on first one then the other. “Yeah, they are. Tell me if I get heavy.”
He let himself melt into her. It would take a crane to move him.
She stirred. “Peter, did you come in me?”
“You weren’t supposed to. You were supposed to pull out.”
“I tried. My whole body screamed to keep going in.”
She took his face in her hands. “You know that’s how you make babies, right?”
“I couldn’t do it. I’m not even pulling out now. I’m going to stay right here until I get hard again and then I’m going to do you some more.”
The two teenagers lost themselves in each other. Peter came twice more then watched the sky lighten as he stood outside the third-floor bathroom while Delaney took care of business. She had ripped the hell out of her little silk blouse. He gave up his precious Beatles T-shirt to cover her nakedness while she walked through the boys’ floor of the Dempsey home. When she opened the door, he squatted for her to climb on his back, and ran up the stairs two at a time.
Safely inside the door, Delaney hopped down. “We made a terrible mess of my private place.”
“Did we? Worth it all. Intend to do it again.”
“I hope you feel that way if there’s a little Dempsey nine months from now.”
“Come on. What are the chances?”
“One in twenty-eight.”
“Hmmm.” Peter sat on his bed, pressed his fingertips together and contemplated that fairly alarming statistic. “One in twenty-eight.”
“It’s actually more like three or four in twenty-eight.” Delaney put her hands on Peter’s shoulders, pushed them back. “You know it makes me crazy when you slump like that. Stand up.”
She took his hand to drag him to the full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door and spin him sideways. “Look at that.”
Peter turned his head, took in the familiar image. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Delaney walked around behind him. She grabbed his shoulders and put her knee in the small of his back. “There, see the difference?”
A smile spread slowly as Peter stared at his reflection The change in posture took him from boy to man. He turned to face the mirror full on.
Delaney watched him. “When you stand the way you usually do, it’s like, ‘I’m sorry I’m so tall.’ When you put your shoulders back, it’s ‘Yeah, I’m a big man and I’m big in a lot of ways. What do you want to make of it?’”
“I see that, but I feel like…I don’t know…a jerk.”
“It’s okay, honey. You’re gorgeous; talented; you have every right to be arrogant. I hate it, though, when you slouch over that keyboard. I want to run up and nail a board across your shoulders.”
Peter started to laugh. “Laney, were you waiting to find out if you liked me in bed before you began remaking me?”
“Like I’ve never told you to straighten up before. And, yes, I have plans for you.”
“I have plans for you, too.” Peter pulled Delaney back to the bed. He peered from under the hair his dad had been threatening to buzz for at least a month. “I will burn in Hell, but I give in. Let’s get some birth control pills. Because I want to keep doing this, but I don’t want to tell your father I knocked you up.”
Delaney turned toward him, pulled her right leg up beneath her. She laughed softly. “Have you ever thought of country instead of rock and roll? That’d make a great country song.”
Peter started to sing, his voice a creditable imitation of Johnny Cash. “I don’t want to tell your daddy I knocked you up.” He fell back to rest on his elbows. “I love you, Delaney.”
“I love you, Peter. You have to come with me.”
“I did come with you.”
“Mind out of gutter. To Planned Parenthood.”
She wiggled her pelvis and caressed her breasts. “First, I think I want to do something that’s really, really bad.”
Peter tilted his head to look her in the eyes. “Bad?”
Delaney stuck out her lower lip. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”
“Tell me more.”
She buried her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing. When I was fourteen, I spent a weekend with my friend Shelly. Her brother had just been to Europe and he brought back all these magazines. There were lots of pictures of these girls who really seemed to be having a lot of fun…”
“Doing what?”
She pressed against him and whispered in his ear. “I want to suck your cock.”
Youngest of six brothers, Peter had seen those pictures, too. He could hardly believe he’d heard those words. Nice girls didn’t do that and girls came no nicer than Delaney Craig. “Oh, God, yes.”
“Once again, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Peter didn’t care. He unbuttoned his jeans as Delaney shifted to kneel next to him.
“See, here’s what I don’t understand, I have teeth.” Delaney took his cock in her hand.
“I think you don’t use them.”
Delaney bent her head and took Peter’s rapidly growing cock in her mouth. She sucked. “Mmmm.”
“Oh, my God. That feels amazing.”
Delaney sat back. “You know what?”
Peter choked out an inarticulate noise.
“You taste like me.”
Delaney smiled. “From being in me.”
Peter looked puzzled.
Delaney laughed softly. “I lick my fingers.”
“You are a naughty girl.” Peter thrust his pelvis forward. “Are you stopping?”
Delaney glanced at him mischievously and leaned forward. Her warm wonderful mouth engulfed him. She sucked him deeply then sat back. When she leaned forward again, she ran the point of her tongue up the underside of his cock. When she hit that spot where the tip joined the root, Peter groaned with pleasure. She nipped several times then sucked him deeply again.
“No.” Peter grabbed her head, pulled her up, just as what cum he had left after his previous adventures bubbled out. Together, they watched the final spurts. To Peter’s amazement, Delaney leaned forward and licked him clean.
Peter collapsed. “Happy birthday to Peter.”
She turned to face him. “We both taste very good. Kiss me.”
“Brush your teeth and I’ll kiss you all you want, but I don’t want to know what I taste like.”
“I didn’t bring my toothbrush. Hand me a Coke, please.”
With his last bit of strength, Peter reached into the cooler. “Baby, you’re drinking whatever I pull out of here.” He handed her a Coke.
Delaney removed an opener from the nightstand and popped the cap, took a swig and swished it around her mouth. “Happy?”
Peter lifted a finger. “Me some.”
“Do you want me to put it to your lips and lift your head?”
“Well, that’s not happening. Are you coming with me?”
“Again?” Peter rose on one elbow and swiped the Coke from Delaney’s hand. “I need a nap first.”
She tried again. “Are you coming to Planned Parenthood?”
“I need a nap.”
Delaney checked the clock. “It’s after eight. Your parents are going to be eating breakfast.”

In the image Peter had built of this moment, he walked downstairs clutching his beautiful girlfriend by the hand. His dad maybe gave him a nod of respect; his mother wiped away a tear as she realized her baby had become a man. “Calm down. I’m eighteen. What can they do? We’ll tell them the truth. You came early to give me a birthday present. And then stayed and came a few more times. Or we could just…I could lie here and look at you for the rest of my life.” Peter tipped the Coke to his mouth and finished it. “Sleep with me?”

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