Tardy Teen

Its so difficult to tell what you’re expecting me to say, but I can clearly see the silent drop of saliva trailing out of the corner of your mouth. And so… IT SHALL BE!!

Listen, I’m not forward. I mean, you don’t consider me rude, do you? I mean, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’d felt an elbow in the side or a stomp on the foot for something I’d said. When I was a teenager, more often than not, it was for something I’d done, not said. And, of course, there are some things that happen too swiftly (and, even back then, far too smoothly) for anyone to pick up on. Didn’t matter. I certainly didn’t care LOL!!

If you were to ever ask my mother anything about the five years that I spent in her house as a teenager, she’d begin scratching her pale chest unconsciously and reply, “Well, you know,… she was a little wild. I barely survived it.” And, with every word, she would scratch ever more furiously. It freaks me out every time I watch her doing it. It’s not that she’s right, that’s just not quite how I remembered it.

Of course, I remember being a sweet teenager who went to school half a day and to work half a day. I worked through high school and still maintained an A/B avarage through high school. Of course, I also vaguely recall a messy bedroom. But, surely my mom isn’t judging the overall experience by that.

You’re right. She doesn’t razor-claw her chest over a few dirty clothes and old test papers. I WAS  a wild teenager.! I don’t recall ever being home on time to make my mom’s curfew… always about 5 minutes late. (OMG! I just realized why I’m always just a wee bit tardy for all my dates. Lol.) And, at one point, I do recall her thinking me gay, drug addicted, and a devil worshiper. GET THIS, here’s her reasoning…
CARPET MUNCH:  My stepfather snatched my journal (the last one I ever kept), and read it’s contents. Luckily, I’d just made it 3 days earlier. (Don’t worry. That was enough.) The night before I’d made out with my best friend. So… of course, I wrote all about it. Oh yes! In vivid detail. I mean, it wasn’t even the first time. It’s what I was doing in most of my spare time in those days.

BASER:  She caught me smoking a joint. I tried to keep my eyes from bulging or my head exploding when she explained how worried she was for me. You see, she herself had once taken “a puff off of a marijuana cigarette”, and she’d been able to quit immediately.Drugs were BAD NEWS. And she was ashamed that her daughter was addicted to them. LMFAO!

LUCIFER LOVER:  At the time, “Mother” by Danzig was still a fresh vid on Mtv, and my all time favorite band was Black Sabbath. So, of course, my favorite singer was Ozzy Osbourne. At 15, I attended a local Ozzy tour, and his music wcame blaring from my speakers at least twice a day out of respect for his greatness. HEY! Doesn’t mean I worshipped him!

Sadly, it’s true. I’m not perfect. That much is a fact. But those titles do not belong to me. I was just a sex-crazed teenager. Almost as bad as I am as an adult. The only difference is, my past is littered with crazy shit you’d never catch me doing these days. Oh. You want a taste, do you? Well, here’s a quick sample…

My best friend in high school was 3 years older than I. She had already graduated, could drive (had a car), and was bi-sexual. Yes. Yes. Of course, she was my first. That’s not the wild part. No matter where we ended up partying at, if alcohol was involved,  so was molestation. HEY! Don’t you judge me!

We’d go out, you know, just like any regular evening. And, just like any regular evening, I would drink my drinks and party along with everyone else. But when it was time for the girls to gather and make that necessary group bathroom trip… ooh baby. It was on. 

Girls usually hit the stalls at a club two by two. We were no different. I’d go first, talking her ear off the entire time. Her bathroom release was just a wee bit different. (Har har har.) You see, I’d let her pee. But, when she went to stand and pull up her dainty panties, I’d take her gently by the shoulders, off balance and gently rest her against the stall wall. Then I’d lick the delicate petals of her  pussy clean.

Each time she’s struggle a bit. Especially if the bathroom only had one stall and our bodies were clearly visible below the door. And she most definitely would wiggle, and squirm, and protest as quietly as possible. But, even if there was a line of women behind us, I didn’t care. Who did as a teenager? Lol.


Oh, but her responses to my insistent licking and suckling were usually the same. Grumbling and sighs and… sweet cream o’ tween upon my young tender lips. And, if I was lucky enough, a drop would slowly slide down my face to rest on the side of my chin. This was a truly golden opportunity I NEVER passed up. I truly believe it may have been sent from GOD as a way of teaching little boys a lil’ somethin somethin. As we would leave the bathroom, I would direct my stare to the nearest male, and, once I had his attention, I would gently lick the drop of cum from my face, and swallow it slowly with a quick wink in his direction.



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