In the week following that problematic Circle Line tour, my attempt to play hard-to-get failed. Margery had easily seduced me – more than once – on the following Thursday.  I knew I was folding under the pressure of her charms.

As a seventeen-year-old guy, and not a particularly physically impressive one at that, I was getting more sexual stuff than I had ever imagined I’d have at that point in my life. I doubted that many of my male senior classmates were doing so well. As a couple, we were going to get our share of what everyone else seemed to be doing.

Yet darker thoughts came to me. She obviously enjoys chasing a guy and then catching him. What if she looks for a bigger challenge than I have been?

I wondered about the ones who had supplied her with those explicit magazine layouts. I hadn’t met any of them yet; I didn’t even know how many of them there were down there around 211th Street.

My imagination had always been an active one, and I thought that they may have noticed the changes in her, such as her new appearance and clothes and the biggest one of all, her new, confident attitude. Maybe they were already thinking about her hot mouth around their cocks. Maybe they also were thinking about another part of her body, one that hadn’t even been around my cock yet.

I was aware that being her “official” boyfriend held no guarantees. What did the term boyfriend even mean in the world we were living in? My new girlfriend was a lot more precocious, including sexually, than I had first imagined.

I remembered those guys at the fast-food restaurant who had noticed her and how she had noticed them in turn. My fantasies turned away from those unseen guys on her block and went to a completely hypothetical young man, a junior possibly, at a place like Columbia University.

Probably he’d be of a higher social status than us kids in The Bronx. Maybe he’d have more money to spend on her than I ever would. Possibly he already had a car, likely a used one, but I pictured it as being European. Not necessarily a BMW, but perhaps a Peugeot, which was still being sold in the United States. With a vehicle, he could take her much further afield on dates than I could. Then I could imagine them together in the back seat of his nice French car.

I knew I shouldn’t torture myself with these musings, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Would a guy about twenty-one go for a girl approaching her seventeenth birthday? With Margery, of course he would. Wait a minute, she’s still my girl.

I considered the “sweet, normal,” and presumably more modest girl that she had mentioned as an alternative to herself. Sure, I’d have to sneak a few feels to get to her tits. Maybe I’d try to pry her knees apart if she was wearing a skirt and I wouldn’t get anywhere in my attempts to reach her crotch. Perhaps that was what teenagers were supposed to do to learn about love and life.

With Margery, she had moved way beyond that and she was still moving. For the moment I’d have to ride her whirlwind.

*****

That Sunday, for a short while, we were in the kitchen of my parent’s first-floor apartment. It was an unusually warm day for October. In the courtyard below us, a girl in a bikini was lying on a beach cot and sunbathing. The courtyard was open to the south because a house there had long ago been demolished and then never replaced.

Margery noticed her and said, “So who is that chick down there?”

“That’s the super’s daughter, Lili Mancuso.”

“Okay, an Italian one I see, like you. How old is she?”

“I’m only half Italian, remember? Anyway, she’s nineteen, I think.”

“So, with her little sunbathing stunts, she must be in your jerk-off rotation too.”

I felt like saying, that is none of your business, but I knew I could do better than that. Instead, I would agree and amplify; I was learning that tactic. “Yeah, in fact, she’s my second most popular girl for that activity.”

“Really? So who is number one?”

“You are Margery, you must know that.”

Fortunately, she found that funny. Then she went back to ragging on me. “And three and four; they must be that Lenore and Susan you mentioned before.”

I was struck that she remembered those names from my throwaway line of several days earlier. They were indeed classmates at my school and I had thought about them at times. I attempted to push back again by saying, “Sure, but those are only two of my high school cuties.”

Margery only nodded, and I could tell that my attempt to be cocky had fallen flat. She knew I only imagined those other girls, and it hadn’t made any impression on her.

I mentioned Lili again. “She has a boyfriend, you know. He drives over here and picks her up in his Corvette.”

Mentioning that car was a mistake, because Margery said, “A Corvette! Hank, you should get a sports car too.”

“I don’t even have a driver’s license yet.” Putting it that way made me look even weaker, less competitive in the dating race. What did she expect from a seventeen-year-old like me? Yet I hoped she would say, I was joshing with you, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked down at Lili again. The super’s daughter was a fairly tall girl, much taller than Margery, and she had long dark hair.

I knew Margery was assessing both of us, and I don’t think I was being paranoid when I guessed what she was thinking. Hank, you wouldn’t have any chance with her. She had a little smile on her face.

If that was her opinion, then it was obviously not a compliment. I remembered a topic I had wanted to bring up a few days earlier. As I looked out that window, I said in an off-handed way, “So, what guys at your school have you thought about?”

I must have caught her by surprise with that. She just looked at me as if she didn’t know what to say. I continued with my topic. “I mean, you ask me about the girls I think about. You even pointed out that one in the street a while back and told me to look at her.”

Margery wasn’t smiling but I knew she was considering something. She crooked her finger at me and said, “Let’s go in your room.”

Once in there, she closed the door and we sat on the end of my bed. “Hank, that is not a good topic to talk about, and you know it.”

I wasn’t going to be intimated by her. “So it’s okay for you to ask me who I fantasize about, but I can’t ask you the same thing?” I almost added, so who do you masturbate about besides those imaginary nuns?

It seemed like I had already been blunt enough for her to get angry at me, but she didn’t, at least not overtly. “You heard what I said; I don’t want to talk about it.”

She had set up a test that was difficult to pass. I couldn’t just agree with her, much less apologize. The best quip I could come up with was, “You certainly are cool under pressure.”

That lightened her up, and she seemed tongue-in-cheek as she said, “You certainly have seen that before, haven’t you?” Maybe she had interpreted what I said as agreement, although that hadn’t been my intention. Margery then put her arms around me and kissed me.

“Hank, do you still care about me?” That was unusual in that she had rarely needed reassurance from me before.

“Of course, I just got here – I mean time-wise, less than two months ago.” Then I found an indirect way to get at that taboo topic. “How about you; do you still care about me?”

“Sure I do; you know that.” Then why did I have a nagging feeling, an intuition that she might be thinking differently?

Margery pulled back. “All right, just let’s not overdo this self-revelation thing.”

“Moderation in everything as that expression goes.”

******

That night I was still bugged enough to imagine Lili Mancuso as my whack-off partner. She was on top of me, her bikini bottoms were on the floor and the top was pulled up to expose her breasts. I added a little detail; she was wearing white sandals. As Margery knew, I liked women to keep some footwear on during sexual acts, if only their socks.

Just before I shot my load upwards, I whispered to myself, “Take my cum, you little sun-bathing cock-tease. You must know that guys are looking at you when you’re lying out there.”

Twelve apartments had a view of that yard. I can’t speak for the other tenants, but I certainly had looked down there several times during the previous summer.

******

Margery called me during the week and said, “Hey, on Saturday both my mom and sister will be out. So come on over here.”

I was hooked. “Really? How much time are we talking about?”

“From twelve noon to at least eight. So we’ve got plenty of time.”

I had only been in her apartment once before, and I had never had dinner there as she had in mine. Then she said, “I’ve got something special cooked up for you, and it’s not food, for sure!”

On that day, as soon as she opened the apartment door for me, I could grasp that she wasn’t acting like her usual self. “Hey, Hank, it’s good to see you. Come on in.”

She had a knack for presenting herself, almost like an actor, in various guises. First of all, she seemed too chipper, I’d call it. And she also made no attempt to hug or kiss me.

Her outfit had some subtle clues that were different too. At first glance, her clothes weren’t that unusual. She was wearing a loose blue pleated skirt, a short-sleeved white blouse, white knee socks, and black leather shoes. Her hair was tied up with a blue ribbon in the back, a touch I had never seen her do before (At least it wasn’t pink.)

The longer I was there, the stronger my impression of her act became. I’m such a good but innocent young girl. And she had a way to start the proceedings. She went over to the coffee table and made a sweeping gesture, “Look at the snacks I’ve got for us today.” There was a tray there with Oreo cookies, and two glasses of milk.

I said the truth, “I don’t drink milk.”

“Then I can get some syrup for you.”

“That’s a lot of chocolate. How about just a glass of seltzer?”

“If you want seltzer, then that’s what I’ll get.”

She went into the kitchen and came back with my beverage. Then we sat down on the sofa with her to my right. I noticed that she kept some distance from me. Normally, she would have her body pressed up against mine, and her arm would be around my waist.

She just sipped from her tumbler of milk. I guessed that she didn’t want a cookie in her mouth when she talked.

“Hank, I’m so pleased that we have become BFF’s.” Since when did girls use that term for their boyfriends?

“Is that how you see me?”

“Of course, look at all the fun times we’re spent together, like when we went on The Circle Line.” That day had been a bit strange, I thought. “A lot of people would say that a boy and girl can’t be good friends, but we’ve proved that wrong, haven’t we?”

“Yes, that is certainly true.” I hoped to get a hint of sarcasm in that, but if I did, she didn’t note it.

The term “prattling” was accurate for the way she was talking.  Her voice was pitched slightly higher, and she was speaking faster. “I know a lot of guys would try to take advantage of the situation – I mean with me – but you’re so nice that you wouldn’t think of getting forward with your dear friend.”

Yeah, I’m a nice boy all right. But I’d still like to ejaculate into your mouth. In fact, I had been considering how to physically escalate our affair. Never rest on your laurels.

“You said, forward?”

“Yes, what they used to call getting fresh. I mean you wouldn’t try to touch me in inappropriate ways.”

I knew for sure that she had some gimmick lined up for that day. Then she pulled another surprise. “Since we have the whole afternoon, we have time to play Monopoly.”

“Monopoly?”

“Yes, we can play right here on the floor.” Fortunately, it was carpeted so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. “Help me lift this thing out of the way.”

She meant the coffee table, so we each grabbed an end and moved it, tray, cookies, milk, and all.

“Let me get the game box, it’s right over here.” While she got it from a bookcase I thought, why can’t we play this on some table?

But Margery retrieved the box and we both sat on the floor. The entire game was then soon set up by her next to us, money, houses, hotels, everything. “Which marker would you like?”

“Probably the race car is my favorite.

“I’ll go with the cute dog.” She held it up. “Woof! Woof!”

That wasn’t my first time with the game, but I definitely wasn’t a fan of it. Everyone knew how slow-paced it was. The spring before, I had read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and Monopoly had figured significantly in the plot. It seemed perfect for psych wards. Or prisons. Or any place where the inmates had to kill off huge amounts of time.

I had better get something really good out of this.

I sat crossed-legged, while Margery had hers on their sides, flat on the floor. One leg on was on top of the other. Her skirt was pulled down over her knees. I got to roll the dice first, and we were off on our board game adventure.

Her timing was good. We went on for about seven or eight minutes, just long enough for me to get complacent with the pace of it. I had even bought my first two houses. Then her right leg stayed down, and her left one went up at an angle with only her foot on the floor. Her skirt fell back, and I had a perfect view of her crotch and the panties covering it. But man, what panties! They were blue and seemed rather ample, but the nylon was so sheer that I could see right through them. Her public hair and vulva were quite visible.

I had already seen her white version of that garment, and I knew she also had a black one. Obviously, she had done some further shopping. She must have wanted me to have a good, long look, because she pretended to be engaged with some strategy on the game board.

When she was finished showing off, she looked up at me, and said, “On, my!” Her legs clamped together and she pulled her skirt down to cover her body. “You naughty boy, you were looking up my skirt!”

I was completely honest with her. “It would help if you didn’t flash yourself like that.”

“I was not flashing you! It was completely inadvertent.”

A different approach from me seemed necessary. “Your underpants are virtually transparent, as you must know.”

“What kind of underwear I have on is none of your business.”

“It’s still very nice underwear, I’d say. And I think I know why you have it on.”

“Well, it wasn’t to impress you.” She huffily folded her arms. “You’re turning out to be like all the other guys I’ve met. You all want to take advantage of a girl's good nature.”

I knew how to respond. “The underwear wasn’t necessarily for my benefit; it’s for yours too. I think you feel sexier while wearing it.”

Her expression was as if she was having a crisis of her conscience. I could start to see the probable outcome of the events so far. “This is not a suitable topic for a young lady to discuss with a proper gentleman. That includes her undergarments.”

I loved how she had phrased that. Now I was playing my own game with her, and it wasn’t Monopoly. “Margery, you know you can trust me. After all, I’m your BFF, as you said.” I had a hard time keeping a straight face while saying that.

She seemed to ponder that for a moment. Then she reached out with two hands and held one of mine. Her warm skin pressed down on mine. “Hank, you’re a good friend, thus I feel like I can confess this to you.” Then she hesitated for a moment. “I try to be good, but the physical urges I have can be overwhelming at times.”

“Hey, everybody has them.”

“But I do more than that. In my bed at night, or when I’m alone here at times, I’ll reach my hands down and fondle myself. If I do that, well. . .” She hesitated again before continuing. “I’ll give myself a climax then. Often I put the handle of my hairbrush in there as well. That helps me a lot when I do it.”

“Everybody does that too. If they say they don’t, then they’re lying through their teeth. It’s called masturbation.”

“I know what that word means.”

I decided to go for it. “Who do you think of during these sessions?”

“Well, I’m ashamed to admit this, but often I think of you. Do you think any less of me because of that?”

It was my turn to be chipper. “Of course not. I have to confess something too. I think of you the same way at times.” All of the time, in fact.

“Really, you do? I never realized that.”

“Sure, Margery, you know how fond of you I am.” It looked like she was pretending to blush, but it was impossible to fake the facial appearance of that.

It seemed like I should initiate the next step, so I moved to reassure her. Without asking, I pulled her closer and put my arms around her. She yielded to my hug and pressed he face against mine.

“Oh Hank, I feel so dirty but you’ve been so good to me.” Oh, I’m really going to be very good to you, that’s for sure. Then she kissed me, and it was a passionate one that was nothing like a first kiss.

When she stopped, she said, “That feels so good; I’m getting tingles all over.” Pussy tingles too, I assumed.

I thought I knew what she wanted from me then, even if it was a bit nonsensical for the plot line she had invented. “Margery, I know a way to lessen your guilt. You said you trusted me, right?”

“Yes, I do trust you.”

“What I propose is that I help you have these climaxes you give yourself. That way you’ll realize how normal it all is.”

I doubted that any girl who was truly doubting those matters would buy the argument, but that wasn’t the point. “Do you think that will work?”

“I’m sure it will.”

“Then what do you propose to do?”

“Let’s get up on the couch and I’ll show you.”

Once there, we made out some more. At one point, she whispered, “Hank, I don’t deserve this.”

“But you certainly do.” I pushed back a bit on her shoulders so I could see her face. Her look was so serious that I had to stop myself from laughing again.

I had my line ready. “Now, I know when you, ah, fondle yourself . . .”

She interrupted me. “Masturbate, as you said.” Her tone was, I’ll show you how brave and honest I can be.

I was only briefly deterred. “I know you also touch your breasts, I mean specifically your nipples.”

“So you know about that, I mean what women do?”

“Yes, I certainly know about it.” I wasn’t born yesterday. She still seemed tense, so I said, “Just relax. This will go just fine.”

Without mentioning what I was going to do, I began to unbutton her blouse. As usual, I got hung up trying to do her bra strap in the back, but eventually, I got the task done. I pushed her bra up and saw that her nipples were already erect. Margery, you are one hot girl. Of course, I didn’t say that. When I looked into her face, she had her eyes closed.

“You have very nice breasts.”

“Do you really think so?” She seemed pleased that I had noticed them, yet still uncomfortable about showing herself.

“Of course; I’ve always thought that.” Even though they were small, I had noticed them inside her blouse that first day with her in the pizza shop.

I put my fingers on her nipples and began to rub them and twirl my fingers around them. She put her head back and started moaning. “Oh that is so nice.”

“I’ll show you how nice it can be.” With that, I put my mouth on her tits and began to gently suck on them.

She was obviously forgetting about her innocent act as she grabbed my head and ran her fingers through my hair. When I had her well warmed up, I made my next proposal. “It’s time to move this to the next level.”

She was dreamily enjoying my efforts on her tits. “And what would that be?”

“What I think is: I should kiss you on the crotch of your underpants.”

She put on a show of looking not quite alarmed, but rather concerned, although she was losing her ability to fake that. “Is that such a good idea?”

“Don’t worry, it will just be on the outside of the cloth.” I certainly didn’t expect that aspect to last for very long. I didn’t even know why it would matter. “Just sit on the edge of the cushions and I’ll kneel in front of you.

“All right, if you say so.”

As I got down on the floor, I was careful not to disturb the Monopoly board, although I doubted we’d be doing much with that again. Margery seemed unsure of how to place herself, so I told her. “Just put your feet up on the cushions, honey, and I’ll take care of you.”

I gently pulled her legs apart and then stroked her upper thighs. Then I put my mouth against her body. I could taste her right through the sheer nylon. That was because, I realized, her dampness has been seeping into the blue front panel for a while.

It wasn’t necessary to take care of her because she could take care of herself quite well. Within a couple of moments, her avidity took over and she was holding onto my head and rotating her hips against my face. This girl really wants to come, and soon. She forgot about innocence as she moaned and said various things to encourage me. Her statements weren’t that original but I enjoyed hearing them anyway. “That’s it, lick me but good.”

Her panties went sooner then I than I had expected. I thought she might just pull them aside but, no, she took them off completely. She sang the little ditty I had heard from her once before. “Off with my underpants, off with my gloves. I have no need for underpants, I’m burning with love.” Ella Fitzgerald had never put it that way.

Then she crooked her finger at me and said, “Come back here and finish me off.”

I eagerly did just that, and by then she had entirely lost her demure stance. She was saying things like, “I’m such a dirty little schoolgirl in my white socks, aren’t I?” That was true, but I was too busy making her dirtier to reply.  

Yet at one point I stopped long enough to say, “I think you’re going to come pretty soon.”

“Oh yes, very, very soon.”

When she did, she made a big deal out of it as usual – not that I could complain. She spread her legs wide and rapidly swiveled her underside against my face. Then she clamped her limbs around my head and fell back on the couch. She was loudly saying things that may have included my name, but I couldn’t decipher most of it.

When she was catching her breath, I got up on the couch with her and we kissed. The first thing she managed to say was, “I can taste myself on your mouth.”

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, I certainly do.”

“Was it as good as the ones you give to yourself?”

“Hank, it was so much better!”

In a couple of minutes I said, “Margery, there is something that you have to do for me now.”

She had to know what I meant, but she said, “What more could there be?”

I decided to be forthright about it. I stood up and unbuckled my pants; my erect cock popped out, just inches from her face. “This is what I mean.”

She tried her “pearl-clutching” act again, but she was doing that less well than she had earlier. “Hank, that is a lot to ask from me, I mean taking care of your needs.”

“No, it’s not. You had to know I’d be in this condition. Just touch it a bit and I’ll supply the motion.” I’m sure neither one of us believed that it would stop with that.

“Okay, I will, since you’ve been so nice to me.”

Her fingers on me felt wonderful. I leaned forward and grasped her shoulders, saying things to encourage her as she had done with me.

“I see you really like this.”

I babbled something in the affirmative. A moment later, I said, “It would also be really good if you kissed it, just a bit.”

She had some coy disapproval. “Hank, with you it’s like the camel’s nose in the tent.”

It was an old analogy, but it was still amusing. It was more like the camel’s dick in the tent. But I didn’t have to persuade her that much.

“I’ll do it for you, but just a few kisses as you requested.” Then her lips were on the very tip of my glans. “There is something coming out already.”

“It’s called pre-cum.”

Of course, she knew what it was, but she still asked me, “What exactly is it for?”

It would have been fun to describe the details, but I was becoming too distracted to do that. “Never mind, I’ll tell you later.”

Margery soon discounted my promises to her, and she was using her best blowjob techniques on me. She even remembered to use her left hand to stroke my hips and thighs. At one point she stopped to say, “Hank, one thing, please don’t come in my mouth.”

It didn’t seem to matter where I came as long as I came somewhere. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

She soon could tell from my voice alone when it was going to happen. At the last moment, she pulled me out of her mouth and stroked me with her hands. Then she aimed me to her right so that I shot off all over the couch. A bit even got onto her skirt.

At first, she was impressed. “God, it is really amazing to see that.” Then she expressed some concern. “My, you got it all over the sofa.”

By then I had fallen over next to her on her other side. I thought, it’s not my couch, it’s not my apartment, so it’s not my problem. Margery borrowed my handkerchief and made a show of blotting up the mess. I glanced down at the floor and saw that her blue panties had landed in the middle of the Monopoly board. It seemed to make an interesting accessory.

I worried that she’d spend the rest of the day fretting about the couch, but I was wrong. She folded her hands together and said, very seriously, “I think we should do it all over again soon. Are you up for that?”

“If you are, then I am too.”

******

We both had two more orgasms from oral sex. For the last one, she did swallow when I went off in her mouth. As I realized that it was inevitable, I babbled happily. “Oh, you sweet girl, you’re going to take my cum, aren’t you?” and various other dumb statements.

When she was done, she licked her lips. “Your cum is just so hot!” Any guy would like hearing that.

In a few minutes, she said, “We should get some lunch soon. But first, I have to do a better job cleaning up.” That required her to get a towel from the bathroom and running some water on it. Then she made an effort to scrub the sofa with it.

“There’s a bit on your skirt too.”

After rubbing at that spot, she said, “Who cares? It’s machine-washable anyway.” That blasé attitude was more like her real self. It was notable that although we had undone some of our clothes, her panties were the only garment either one of us had actually removed.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, she picked up her panties and put them in her bag. “I don’t feel like wearing these right now.”

Even though I had seen her do that before, I still asked, “Any particular reason for that?”

“Yes, Hank, I’ve decided I like being a bad girl after all.”

“And when good girls like you go bad, they’re always the worst.”

“Honey, don’t you know it!”

As I looked at the game board for the last time, I speculated, “I wonder if someone could make a sexual version of Monopoly.”

“What would that be like?”

“I guess you’d invest in whorehouses and porn theaters.”

****

As we sat in the diner, some familiar thoughts came to me, and those were about what the older people in the place thought of us.

In the early 1970’s, the idea of teenagers being involved with sex, drugs, and rock and roll had been around for a while. Yet I think that adults still made a distinction between “good kids” and “bad kids,” and they probably imagined they could tell the difference just by looking at them. They certainly hoped that their own offspring would fall into the good category.

I knew I was a rather mild-looking guy. On that day, Margery, with her blue blazer and white socks, must have looked particularly innocent.

At that time, it was still often not considered proper for a girl to express her sexual desires. In the parlance of my parent’s generation, a “bad girl” who did that anyway was said to be a “hot number” or have “hot pants,” a term also given to that fad for dressy shorts.  

I was sure that my parents perceived us as a “nice young couple,” partially because Margery was always so polite with them but also because it would have been uncomfortable for them to think otherwise. To them, I had found a sweet girl who lived just down the block. They couldn’t imagine that she would wear see-through panties or no panties at all as she was doing that day at the diner. 

In reality, we were hardly the worst-behaved kids around, but neither were we that pure either. We had been going at each other pretty enthusiastically since we had met and I, for one, wanted to escalate our affair.

I must have been musing about her bare lower body under her modest clothes. I said, “Speaking of your see-through blue underpants. . .

“We were?”

“I’d say so. Anyway, I still have your white version from that time on my rooftop. I just forgot to return them to you.”

“I was wondering where those had gone. But thank you, that is very thoughtful of you.” Then she went on. “So, I assume you must have ejaculated into them at least once.”

I should have made a joke out of it, but I had been caught unprepared. “How did you know that?”

“Come on, it’s just obvious. A lady should be pleased that her man would shoot his cum into her underwear, I mean when she’s not wearing it.”

I didn’t quite grasp her argument, so I said something irrelevant. “But then I washed them and hung them up to dry.”

She found that very funny. “Oh Hank, you’re just so diligent!”

It didn’t seem as amusing to me. Probably I was a bit embarrassed plus she was poking fun at me. I got rather defensive. “You didn’t think I’d give them back all encrusted with – well, you know what I mean.”

“Don’t look so worried. But, you truly are a gentleman.”

She stood up and leaned over the table, giving me a warm kiss. Then she sat down and grinned at me.

#####

There is a board game now called Sexopoly. “Each throw of the dice will move you around the board, purchasing and managing businesses with the aim of making the most profit within the adult industry.”