The Education of Marcie

As I pushed the old Toro, my head pointed straight down, watching drops of sweat bomb the sidewalk. I was pooped from mowing old lady Maloney's lawn on the hottest day this August (duh). I contemplated whether a beer stolen from my dad's stash or a Coke would do best to save my life.

"Hey, Fart Face!"

"Hey, Plank," I answered almost automatically.

My real name is "Mitch" but "Fart Face" was what Marcie fondly called me. Shortly after Marcie had moved in down the street, at about age seven, I had let out a baked bean nurtured whopper which had provoked Marcie to label me with the name. Not wanting her to be left out, I came up with "Plank;" one, because she was skinny as a rail and, two, because I had just learned what a plank was. They had become kind of secret passwords to us. From the start we had been fast friends. Who could resist a girl who could out cuss, out spit, and out run any boy her age? Until my testosterone kicked in at about 13, she could probably have beat the crap out of me too. Marcie could be a pain, she always had to have her way and she was competitive as hell, but she would do anything for you, as long as you didn't cross her. Besides, she was a lot of fun.

"Whuzup?" I asked as I parked the Toro on her front lawn and headed to the porch.

"Not much," and after a pause, "you're looking grosser than usual."

I looked down at my drenched T and the blades of grass sewed into my leg hairs, making my legs look like worn out Astroturf.

"This is the way us real men are supposed to look."

"Yah right, if I get you a lemonade to you promise not to get close to me? Some nasty cooties there."

"A deal," I gratefully responded.

As she disappeared beyond the screen door, I snuck a look at her perfect apple-shaped ass; she sure wasn't the plank I used to know. As I idly picked bits of turf from my leg hairs, I thought about our evolving friendship. As we had grown to our late teens, Marci and I had seen less and less of each other. She went to a private school, me to old Stuart High. I worked some evenings at the video store and she played soccer and more soccer. During that time her breasts had grown some but remained fairly small. However, they had a pronounced perk and, I'm sure, didn't sag a bit. Plus, with all that soccer, she had legs and an ass to kill for. Combine that with strawberry blond hair and sparkling blue eyes and it was hard to remember that she was my good buddy and buddies don't fuck buddies. Living just three doors apart we still saw each other some, but generally the greetings were quick and we were now too old to "go out and play."

"Here ya go," as she handed me a tall glass and we both settled into porch chairs. I took a long slug as I waited for her to open the conversation. Usually Marcie chattered nonstop but as I looked over at her she just stared at the drink in her hand.

"You ready for college?" I tried as an icebreaker.

"Yah, I guess so," she said without any note of conviction.

"What's the matter, I thought you'd be psyched."

Marcie was an All-State high school soccer player and was going to Georgia Tech on a free ride to play. On top of that, she had nonstop gray cells, finishing second in her class at a braining private school. Even her pre-med major should come easy.

"I guess I just don't feel ready to go. To be honest, I'm a little scared.'

'Of what?" I responded, "You should have it shade-made."

"You won't laugh?"

I gave her my most sincere "No, I promise," knowing "don't laugh" was one of the hardest promises to keep.

"When I go to school I don't want to just study and play soccer, I want to go out with boys and, well, do all the things college girls do, dating and all that."

"Sounds like great game plan to me," I responded.

"The problem is I don't know a thing about men, I haven't dated in high school. I didn't have the time and, besides high school boys are such dorks."

"I'll assume you don't include me in the Dork Kingdom. You could always teach the guys to spit watermelon seeds and instruct them on the latest cuss words like you did with me."

"I'm serious, I'm afraid I'll make an ass of myself. You know I hate it when I'm clueless."

"Maybe for once you'll just have to do a trail-and-error sort of thing.' I remembered once how Marcie had thrown her bat down and broke into tears when, after the first few swings of her life she hadn't hit a softball. Marcie didn't take frustration lightly. Her solution was that we met while no one else was around and I threw her pitches until my arm was drop- off-and-die tired. In a couple of days everyone in the outfield dropped back when Marcie was up.

Marcie looked at me as if the answer to her problem was written on my sweaty chest.

"I know, maybe you can help me. Like, pretend to be a date so I could practice being with a guy."

"Huh?" was the most brilliant response I could come up with.

After a bit I continued, "Shit Marcie, I haven't dated that much, I'm a lousy dancer and still feel a bit lost around chicks myself. I'd feel goofy pretending to be your date."

"It won't be goofy, it might be fun. We may learn something together," she countered.

"Tell you what; my parents are off on a vacation before I go to college so we can have my place all to ourselves. Why don't you come over about 8 and we'll just kind of wing it."

My brain was spinning, trying to figure what I was getting into. But I was also intrigued, having a date with Marcie, even a pretend date, didn't sound all that bad. Reluctantly I agreed, thanked her for the drink, and hurried the three doors down to my house.

While I was in the shower, I considered what Marcie was talking about. We might kiss; I didn't know if I was a good kisser but I enjoyed it and the few chicks to grace my pucker upper seemed to enjoy it too. We might dance; although I didn't like to dance that much and wasn't very good, I also know being a decent dancer was one of the shortest routes to getting laid. What really got my pecker puffed a little was the idea that we might talk about what turns guys on. Moves and stuff, whatever. I was both nervous and curious as I pulled a clean tee shirt down over my antiperspirant-painted pits and donned some jeans shorts.

At my knock, Marcie greeted me in a pink silk blouse and a short blue skirt. She even had on a touch of make up. Her strawberry hair was down and flaxen, not pulled back in a braid like it usually was. After years of seeing her outfitted as a tomboy, it struck me near blind how beautiful she was. I had always known that, since puberty at least, she had a great body, but now she looked so, well, feminine.

"Would you like to join me in a glass of wine?" she said in unfamiliar formality. She seemed just a touch nervous, unusual for Marcie.

"Sure." I would have liked a Bud but knew that wine was better for the breath.

"Look. Marcie, I've been thinking and I'm not sure how much help I can be. Tiffany is the only girl I dated for any length of time and with her I just learned how to wrestle in the back seat of our Taurus. Besides she eventually ditched me for a muscle-bound airhead. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

After I finished my speech, Marcie set down her wine glass and put her hands on my shoulders.

"Kiss me, Fart Face."

Marcie and I had snuck dry little kisses a few times when we were about 10 and once played spin-the-bottle with some other kids until our lips were sore, but that didn't prepare me for this. I put my glass down too, stared briefly into those sparkling blue eyes, and dove in for oral combat. At first our lips met gently to find the right fit and warm to each other. After a few seconds I stuck my tongue out a bit to caress her lips. That set Marcie loose, never one to do things half measure, her tongue started to duel with mine and explore my lips and mouth. As we kissed, one hand remained behind my neck while the other found my butt to press my now swelling crotch into hers.

"Damn, was this practice? It felt real to me. What have I gotten myself into?"

To explore the situation, I slowly pulled my right hand from her back and gently cupped her breast. Her flesh was soft and hot and I could feel an erasure-like nipple press into my palm through her bra. After a few seconds, Marcie broke away from me.

"I blew it," I thought. Had I gone too far?

"Wow!" she said in a husky whisper.

Maybe I was safe after all.

She put her hand on my cheek and asked "Maybe you can kiss me on some other places, to see how that feels?"

"Like?" I responded.

"Like on my neck and shoulders and stuff."

I wasn't sure where "and stuff" was located but I started willingly on her neck; nibbling, licking lightly and a quick suck here and there. Marcie started to breathe deeply and when I looked up I saw her eyes were closed to slits. Finally I started at the base of her long neck and worked my way up until I reached her earlobe and gave it a gentle nibble. I could feel goose bumps form on her arm. I could also feel her reach between us, careful not to break contact and unbutton the top few buttons of her blouse.

Needing no further cue, I pulled her to the couch and pushed one side of her blouse off her shoulder and half way down her arm. As I held her to me, I explored the nooks and crannies of first one shoulder then the other.

As I came up for air, she said "I can't believe what a turn-on it is to be kissed on the neck." She grinned at me fondly and put her arms loosely around my neck. "I guess it wouldn't be a valid experiment unless you kissed my chest too.' To show that she meant it she gave me a quick peck on the cheek. She stood up, undid the last couple of buttons of her blouse and reached in front and undid her bra. Before I could catch my breath, she was stark naked from the waist up with her glorious breasts pointed straight at me. They were indeed perky devils that jiggled rather then swayed. As she tidily put her blouse and bra on the end table I watched how her breasts seemed to shimmer with each movement. I was surprised at how dark her areoles were, given her otherwise pale coloring. They were like two black eyes staring at me. Her boobs may have been small but her nipples were industrial sized, projecting almost a half inch out and looking as large and firm as erasures.

"Stop staring, silly, everybody knows that guys like to look at boobs, let's see how it feels when they are licked." She resumed her spot on the couch.

Her hand on the back of my head guided me to her breast. I was careful not to just latch on like a leach to her nipple but to first explore the roundness of her breast. Her hand guided me on my tour until we finally located her left nipple. I marked the edge of the color change with my tongue and gradually spiraled around until I lapped at her nipple. As she pressed me head into her breast I opened my mouth wider and sucked her areola in. Her hips jutted out, pressing against me like she was getting a mild shock and for the first time in our "experimentation" she let out a long low moan. I moved to her other breast, using similar techniques and drawing a similar reaction.

Finally she moved my head up to rest on her shoulder.

"Enough, enough, I can't take any more."

As my head rested on the upper slope of her firm little breast, my cock, rock hard for the last 15 minutes, started calling in throbbing tones; "How could you tease me like that and not give me some relief. I demand satisfaction!"

As if Marcie was reading my mind…err, my cock, "Mitch, I've never seen a man's penis before, at least not in real like and not all hard." With that her one leg traced up mine to my erection and her foot traced its firm outline through my shorts. "Can I, for the sake of experimentation of course, take a peek?"

"Jeez, I don't know, Marcie . . ." my head lifting quickly from her chest looking at her with astonishment.

"I won't bite," she said with an innocent fluttering of her eye lids.

Like an idiot I just stayed up on one elbow, staring at her, mouth agape. I couldn't believe what she was asking. She took my silence to be agreement and got up from the couch, arranged a pillow under my head and actually guided me to lie flat on my back, stretched the full length of the couch. She first removed my socks and sneaks and then, with a quick pull at my belt and an unbutton and unzip of my shorts, she was ready to pull down my shorts and jockeys with one smooth motion.

I guess this is the part of the story where I'm supposed to tell you how my cock was 17 inches long and 4 inches thick, a true monster among the penis population. Well, to tell the truth my tool barely met the national average (Playboy, April 2001 issue) and I kind of had to press done the ruler a bit to get there. But it was as hard as they come (pun), was always ready, and now pointed straight up to the ceiling. As you'll see later, it was a good thing on this occasion that I was not oversized.

With my one leg crooked against the back of the couch and the other dropping off the side with a foot on the floor, Marcie had plenty of room to fit between my legs and begin her examination. Grasping the stem between forefinger and thumb she studiously began to examine my cock, moving it gently to one side or the other to get a view from all sides. I felt like my cock was a giant earth worm being studied in biology lab; I was glad Marcie didn't have a scalpel in her hand. The thought caused an alarm at cock-Central and the dams that keep things stiff started to open up and I began to lose my woody.

"It's cute," Marcie said with a giggle.

"Marcie, men's cocks aren't supposed to be 'cute;' you're supposed to look at one with awe and trepidation," I replied with a tone of only partially mock offense.

"It's cute,' she confirmed. With that she began to stroke up and down my shaft with a feathery touch. My cock dams, realizing their mistake, immediately closed back up and I twanged back to attention. Her fingers then formed an "O" around my cock and tested the movement of the loose skin slipping up and down on my shaft.

"Where is your penis most sensitive?" she asked, in the tone of a nurse in an examination room. We were back for the moment to Sexology 101. I did my best to be Professor Mitch.

"Around the rim, yah, there, the whole top and just below the rim. No dry friction, that hurts just like on any sensitive skin and . . . Oh yah, balls are funny, they don't like to be jostled are tugged the wrong way."

"Then I won't jostle or tug you," talking to my nuts, not to me.

After pausing to see if my nuts would answer, she moved her head down and planted a soft kiss on each orb. Then hold my sac in her hand she gently licked each ball, making my fine blond nut hair glisten. Satisfied she was on the right track, she took one nut fully in her mouth, laving my sac slowly and letting the heat of her mouth find its way to my balls. I did my part, I moaned. Her was a girl who protested just hours ago that she didn't know a thing about men driving me crazy with a trick no girl had tried on me before. Sure, Tiffany would give me a quick blow job, but she always just went for speed, to get it over with. Tiffany went down on me to keep her guy happy, but it was about as sexy for her as painting her nails.

After thoroughly exploring my balls, she released them back to the palm of her left hand and her mouth moved up to my shaft. Sometimes her tongue lapped up a side of my cock, with Marcie shifting positions to assure the all sides got proper attention; at other times it was more a wet kiss with both her tongue and lips driving me crazy. Then things got even more out of sight. Marcie has an unusually long tongue, in younger years of great use only in spitting contests. Now she stuck her long wet tongue out its full range and wrapped it around over half the circumference of my cock and started moving slowly up and down, occasionally rewetting her tongue to ease the trip.

With all the attention my cock had been getting and especially with this surprise attack got things to churning.

"Marcie, if you don't stop, I'm going to come in a second!"

With a grin she broke contact with my cock, looked at me with twinkly eyes and asked "How am I doing so far?"

"You're amazing, are you sure you haven't done this before?"

"No way, but I did practice with a candle after I saw you this afternoon."

That's just like Marcie; she always came to class prepared.

"It's time to put you out of your misery."

Marcie licked her lips and wrapped them around the tip of my cock. She began to move her mouth up and down on my cock with her tongue stroking the base. She was able to dive down almost to the base with each stroke. Then her lips stopped just under the rim of my cock cap and her miraculous tongue began to swirl around the tip. Gradually her tongue spiraled to the center with her tongue tip finally exploring the opening groove of my cock, as if to make sure things were ready for the deluge that was soon to come.

And, indeed, things were ready to come. "Marcie, I'm gonna . . . "

Her mouth left my cock only for an instant only she said "Hush" and went back to work. Her mouth resumed its pumping motion on my cock but this time, on each upstroke her tongue swirled around my cock. Up, swirl, down, up, swirl, she was driving me crazy. My whole body stiffened as things went beyond redemption. As I stiffened Marcie moved her hand from my balls down to the point between my balls and ass and pressed, holding the flow that was determined to come. It was like being held for several seconds at mid-climax, making me issue a combined groan and whine. Finally I could be held back no longer and my semen spurted with a violent spasm into Marcie's waiting mouth. She stopped her up and down stroking and concentrated on the tip, trying to lap up each spurt as it came. Then, as the spurts slowed, she painted my cock with her tongue causing it to glisten with my climax.

As I went flaccid, she realized the show was over and got up to retrieve her wine.

"I'm surprised," she said, "your semen doesn't taste bad at all, kind of spicy, not salty at all. It does tend coat in my mouth though." With that she took a long gulp of wine and I could see she was swishing it around, removing the last of the sticky coating from her mouth..

Realizing that her paint job would soon get dry and crackly, I said, "I'm going to go wash up.'

When I returned, Marcie had not bothered to put her bra and blouse back on. I, in my modesty, had put my shorts back on. She was seated on the couch with her back on the armrest and her legs tucked up to her butt on the seat of the couch. As I seated myself more traditionally on the couch, I could see that her skirt had ridden up fully and I could see the pink of her plain cotton panties.

"Have you ever looked at a women's vagina before? I mean really examined it, inside and out?" Once again she shocked me out of the blue.

"Uh, not really," I answered honestly, "I mean I've dove for clams before but that was usually in the dark. Besides, I never felt right staring up a girl's crotch."

"I guess now's the time since you have a willing subject at hand."

She got up from the couch and quickly removed her skirt and panties. As she bent down to pick up her clothes her perfect muscular butt faced me, with a faint view of her strawberry blond her and mysterious groove peeking between her legs.

After putting her panties and skirt with the rest of her clothes she returned to the couch and sat like before but with her knees full akimbo, offering a total view of her pussy area.

"Well, go on, take a closer look. I don't mind. It's kind of sexy."

What can I say, before she finished talking my head was 6 inches from her cunt. For a minute we were both silent as I took a closer look. Her fur was soft and flaxen, trimmed just a bit; not in straight bar like you see in Playboy but in a neat triangle and trimmed a little around her outer lips. The most comfortable cut for constant soccer playing, I would guess. Her inner lips were barely visible as irregular folds, just a little pinker then the rest of her skin. I thought I could see just the red tip of her clit poking out from the hair. Her hands then came down to spread her outer lips apart exposing her clit and opening fully to me.