Growing up, I was an ugly duckling, the kid taking piano lessons, the kid with braces and white socks with rings around the ankles. My parents would not allow me to play sports because of my braces and a knee injury that I had sustained playing football in seventh grade. By 1969, I had outgrown white socks, the braces came off, I switched to playing the trumpet, and grew more than six inches over the summer; but my real transformation was yet to come.
Through hard work and perseverance, I was named first-trumpet-first-chair in the marching band. For the layman, that meant that I was the trumpet player who was given the hardest charts and solos. The director of the band, the brass professor at a renowned music school, named me the student director of the student-run jazz band. And lastly, I was named lead trumpet for the pit orchestra in the high school play. It was the spring musical and we were performing How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.
Hours were spent copying our parts from the master score to individual charts for each instrument. The orchestra practiced their parts for weeks before joining the aspiring young actors and actresses for practice in our auditorium. The auditorium was a fine place for live performances. The whole school was made of brick and designed in a gothic style. Each corner of the school had a round turret. One of the turrets jutted from the right side of the stage and contained a door with an arched top. The door led to the stage area. Wooden steps led down from the door to the auditorium floor. Next to the steps was a real orchestra pit, right in front of the stage.
The school I attended was a Catholic all-boys school. Unlike my Freshman year, when all the parts were played by the boys from the school, the female parts in the play were being performed by girls from the local all-girls Catholic schools. One of these actresses was a girl from my neighborhood, named Kathy, who I knew pretty well in grade school, but had lost touch with once we started high school. She was the only female in the musical that I knew.
During the regular practices, I enjoyed watching the performers. I had never seen the play or the movie before, and other than laughing at the comedic parts, nothing exceptional grabbed my attention.
The first dress rehearsal was held on the Wednesday before the Opening Friday. It was the first time that we got to see the cast in costume. In one of the scenes, a girl emerges from a pirate’s chest. My view from the pit was an exceptionally good one. The chest opened and out popped two long fishnet-clad legs. They were shapely. The girl on the other end of those legs was tall and wore high heels that turned her ankle in a sexy way. It was the first time I really noticed this girl.
Not only did she have nice legs, she was well-constructed in all the right places and was a pretty girl. She was not overwhelmingly beautiful, but had the girl-next-door look. Her hair was dirty blonde in color and hung just below her shoulders.
Well, I never thought of introducing myself to her that night and, even after the next dress rehearsal, I never found out her name.
Opening night was here. The orchestra members where decked out in the tuxedos furnished by the school and everything was set to go. I had been in the pit orchestra the previous year and knew that everyone in
the cast wishes each other good luck by saying “break a leg”, or something silly like that. I had never gone backstage before, because the orchestra and the cast had little in common. However, Kathy was a friend and I decided to go back to see her.
I walked from the pit, up the wooden steps, and through the thick wooden door and into the stage area. The place was a bustle of activity. I could see Kathy and made my way to her. She kissed me on the cheek and uttered the normal clich?Then, I heard a voice say out loud, “Who’s he?” It was an exciting, inquiring voice and gave me a shiver. It was the girl in the fishnet stockings! She walked over to me and gave me a nice long kiss on the lips and wished me good luck.
With my head in a spin, I made my way back to the pit and waited for the show. It went without a hitch. However, I paid more attention than ever to the girl in the fishnet stockings.
When the show was over, there was a customary cast party planned. Last year, I didn’t attend. This time, I asked Kathy what the girl’s name was, and if they were going to the party. They were both going to the party. My interest in this girl was growing. The girl’s name was Lynn and she was from St. Rosalia’s High School.
I had never been kissed like that before and wondered whether it was only me, or if she kissed all the cast members like that. I was going to the party and would find out for myself.
I hurried down the steps to the boys’ locker room, where I changed out of my tux and back into my street clothes. I headed out to my dad’s car, a 1965 Ford Custom, and followed some of the other orchestra members to the house where the party was being held.
The house was in a well-established, well-to-do section of town. The house was very large and had a large foyer that I could see through the cut glass windows. Once inside, I could see that a crowd had already gathered. They were listening to a recording of the play that someone had made using a pretty fancy tape recorder. I looked around and could see no sign of Kathy or Lynn. I walked around the rooms where people were gathering and looked for them.
Before too long, I bumped into Kathy and asked her where I might find Lynn. She told me that she was downstairs in the game room. I walked down the steps to what seemed like a basement, except that it was finished with wood paneling and had a pool table. I didn’t see Lynn at first. I walked around the persons playing pool and noticed that there were two small rooms off from the main game room. Lynn was indeed in one of these small rooms. She was sitting there on a love seat in the dark. I stood in the doorway and said hello. She stood up and put her arms around my neck and began to kiss me. These were deep kisses, French kisses. Her tongue was penetrating my mouth. I circled my lips around her tongue, allowing them to slide down the length it as she withdrew it. We broke our embrace and I sat down on the couch next to her. I had hardly taken a look at her.
She was wearing a yellow and white flowered dress, pulled together at her narrow waist with a belt. She had on tan stockings and white sandals with a two or three inch heel. I put my hand about two inches above her knee and looked at her. She was grinning like she didn’t know what to say and neither did I. I put my arm around her and slung her into my lap, cradling her head in my arms. We kissed again and again, undisturbed by the people who would stick their head in to see who was in the darkened room.
We kissed for what seemed like hours and neither of us wanted to stop. She stopped for a moment, got up and closed the door. She lay me on the love seat with my head resting against the pillow and the armrest and legs hanging over the other armrest, then she laid down on top of me. I was embarrassed, but all that kissing had made me as hard as a rock and when she lay down, my hard cock was pressed against her crotch. She put her arms behind my head and kissed me some more. I could feel her crotch pressing against my stiff member. She was wearing pantyhose and the slickness of the nylon against her dress made her movement easy.
Her breathing began to quicken and she could not keep her tongue inside my mouth for any length of time. I could feel the air moving past my lips as she drew it into her mouth. Her hips began to move and press
her crotch against me. She began to slide her body up my length. It felt as if she was putting me between the lips of her pussy, trying to stimulate herself. Her breathing turned into moans.
To this point, I had not touched the forbidden parts of her body. I could no longer resist and put my hands on the cheeks of her ass and pushed her grinding hips into mine. This made her moan even louder. I put one hand behind her head and pushed her mouth into my neck to try and muffle the moaning. I could tell by the unsettled rocking and the sounds that she was making that she was having an orgasm. All the sliding against my cock had made me wet with pre-cum and I was feeling pretty good myself inside my boxers.
I hadn’t noticed before, but we were both wet with sweat. Her hair was matted with sweat where it touched her face. She smiled at me and began to unzip my pants. She placed her body between the door and mine so that her deed would be hidden from view if anybody opened the door, then she took her hand and put it down my pants. She caressed and fondled me, spreading my pre-cum over the head of my penis and down the shaft.
The softness of her palm rubbed gently against the most sensitive area. The more excited I got, the more excited she was getting. She was really getting turned on playing with me. As the moisture began to dry, she put her palm to her lips and licked it, as she looked right at me, almost making it a point to see that I was looking back at her.
She put her hand back inside and began to stroke me faster. My breathing was getting heavy now. I was on the verge of orgasm and didn’t know what to do. She was getting hotter and hotter. The more I looked at her, the hotter I got. Her hand was really moving fast now. It spent more time near my ridge and head than at my base. I was going to cum. Right there in a stranger’s home, I was going to cum and she was going to make sure of it.
As the first spurts of pleasure began to erupt, she got a big shit-eating grin on her face. I could feel my warm ejaculate running down between my legs and balls. Yet, she continued to stroke, bringing aftershocks and an almost oversensitive tickle to me. She pulled her wet hand from inside my cum-covered boxers and was careful not to get any on my pants or shirt. Her hand went right to her mouth where she licked her palm and fingers until there was no proof of tomfoolery.
I sat up, straightened my clothes and lip locked her for the rest of the night.