Training Wheels

The man who goes his way
Overbearing in word and deed
Who fears no justice
Honors no temples of society
May an evil destiny seize him
And punish his ill-starred pride

It was the beginning of September, summer was ending its slow transformation into fall and school was just starting. While for most teenagers this all seemed one step short of Armageddon, Martin Justin had been eagerly awaiting it. Martin was a Senior, and just having turned 18, he also was a man; well, at least, almost. He felt mature, strong and revitalized by the rest the summer had given him. He had already been accepted to Boston College on a lacrosse scholarship, so academics could take a back seat to fun. He was set.

Admittedly, High School had not been the easiest of things for him in the past. He had never been troubled by the work, or making friends, of which he had plenty. Martin simply was shy around the girls who he was attracted to. A bit dopey also. Intuition, the so-called, "6th sense" was not a strength of his either. Martin, was a klutz around the girls he really liked, and though he was much livelier around those he had less feeling for, he never asked out the right ones. It was as if he was forever cursed to like girls he could not have, and be liked by girls he did not want. Sexually he was still very inexperienced. He had kissed and touched and dreamed but never farther. This year though, was to be different. It was not that Martin was much more confident that he had been before, he just was a lot more determined.

The first day of school was a fashion show for all the popular girls at Ulysses Grant High. For Martin it was better than porn. As he walked to his class, he first saw the sporty Carmen, dressed in short soccer shorts, barely covering an impressive ass so large and well-shaped it had been deemed by Martin as historically significant. He took her body in. Her breasts stretched the fabric of her tight spaghetti strap top, which he judged as probably two sizes to small. The top also revealed her tanned, taught stomach and a pierced navel. Her hair glistened gold in the morning sun and as Martin admired her delicate facial features, he realized he was asking for too much.

"Hi", they both said, and she was gone.

Next came Anna, a wonderful example of why it might not have been so bad if the Soviet Union had won the cold war. Martin's eyes took in her face, creamy white, almost void of color, but not of passion. Her beautiful hair hung almost to her waist. Then he locked onto her tits as he always did when he saw her. For the occasion she had decided against wearing a bra and her nipples, hardened by a cool breeze showed through the thin white top. Martin had always loved Anna, though his good sense warned against it. She was intelligent, but she did not think; she was witty but shallow, and she did not give a rip about him. He loved her for all of it. When they were in Middle School Martin had e-mailed her poems he had written for her. She had always praised their content, but never seen the longing that was behind them. He worshipped her for her indifference. There she was.

"Hi Anna", he exclaimed maybe too enthusiastically.

"Hi Martin", she answered with false excitement.

They stopped in the hallway to talk. Martin trembled as Anna spoke. They talked about what they had done over the summer and how exciting Senior year would be. She laughed as he joyously described his summer trip to Lake Tahoe. Only temporarily satisfied with this small triumph, he searched for hidden meaning and untold emotion in her eyes, and he found nothing. So, he redirected his focus and looked for the same things in her chest. She was beautiful. Her hair fell into her eyes as she talked; she brushed it away. She dropped her English notebook, and they both went down to pick it up. Her face was now just inches away from his and her hair fell over his shoulders. Her perfect breasts seemed to be trying to weasel their way out of her low-cut top. They shared a moment without speech. The bell rang, and the wonderful silence was over much too soon. She stood up and headed off to 1st period.

"Bye", he shouted as she walked away.

"See you."

Martin's 1st period class was Calculus. He had always excelled in math without really trying to understand the underlying concepts. In fact, Martin had never spent much effort in succeeding at anything, barring dating. This made his inability to decipher the female animal all the more confounding to him.

A friend of his had once told him that, "getting girls is like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget." Martin had cracked wise about how, if that was so; it seemed he still had training wheels on his bike. While it was funny at the time, the idea always loomed large in his mind. Was it possible to skip a step? Could one so inexperienced step into a real relationship without blowing it? As the second bell rang signifying the start of the period, Martin felt good. He would find an experienced girl. Maybe two or three years younger than him and use her to gain the experience needed to aim higher.

Though Calculus was a brainy class in general, Martin trained eyes quickly locked onto a lone beauty amongst the gnomes that surrounded him. Her name was Brittany Weinstein, pride and joy of a very rich mother and father. She was synonymous with cruel rejection though, to most of the Grant High population. She felt she was out of almost everyone's league and acted likewise. To Martin, she was extremely well groomed, and pretty though not beautiful. She was tan and thin. Her chest was unspectacular though respectable. She was rumored to give incredible blowjobs. Martin's eyes roamed lower. He stared at her legs. Long and bronzed by the California sun, they were something to be worshipped. His imagination took over. He thought what it would be like to be with her, to experience her, to posses her. As a reaction to her stuck-up manner, he always fantasized about dominating her. He stared harder and mentally experienced her sucking his cock. He pushed her off and ordered her to strip and bend over with her back to him. He felt her perfect aristocratic ass and shoved his cock into it. He shouted at her, calling her a bitch. She wanted to get away but was too aroused. Someone told a joke, and the laughter ended his fantasy. Back in class, he noticed a boner had risen in his pants. He blushed; embarrassed by his voyeurism. He looked away. The teacher droned on and on about everything under the sun. He fell asleep to dreams of romance.

Martin awoke to the voice of a girl he did not know.

"Wake up sleepy head," she said. Her voice was calm and reassuring. She had a faint British accent she seemed to be trying to repress. Her hand was on his head, comforting him as he came out of his sleep.

"Hi, ah, Thank you for waking me up, um, I-I, so what's your name?" he stammered, his vision still blurred from his nap. She laughed at his awkwardness. His vision snapped into focus. Her hair was dark and it framed a sweet face. He thought she was pretty.

"Oh, I'm Emily," she chuckled.

"Is it time for second period yet?"

"Yeah, a few minutes ago, I'm just waiting to talk to the teacher. I need to get into her class. I came here from Connecticut, well, by way of Michigan, New Jersey and England."

"Wow, a woman of culture." He said lamely. She beamed anyway. Overcome by the moment and his resolution to be more adventurous, he asked:

"Hey, since you're new in town, why don't I take you around on Saturday? We can go to the beach, or something. After all, we are in Los Angeles, even if it isn't summer. Or we could just go eat dinner somewhere and maybe see a movie. I know about a great Mexican place."

"Sure, I'd love to have dinner." she said to his surprise. "Call me." They exchanged numbers and went their separate ways.

Martin could hardly believe his luck. She was everything he could hope for. Not only would She be the prettiest girl he had ever gone out with, but She seemed interesting too. He equated her with a goddess. 'What a life She must have lived already!' he thought. He spent much of the night in a state of euphoria, gliding high over the stars, consumed with passion and love for the sweet face he had seen that morning.

After dinner, he decided to call Her. She picked up, and seemed genuinely glad to hear from him. They talked merrily of their separate pasts and felt pleasure and distress at each emotion of the other. They spent two hours talking and only got off because of the homework they both needed to do. He felt happy.

When Martin started to go to bed though, he began to feel uneasy. 'What if she thinks I'm a bad kisser? Or a lousy lover? What if my cock is not as big as it should be?' He expressed his inexperience in a rain of self-doubt.

Ultimately, he was just worried that she would find him juvenile because of his lack of practical sexual knowledge. His mind flashed back to his concept of training wheels. Maybe, if he went on a date with someone else on Friday who he knew would put out; he would be more relaxed with Emily the next day because he would not have to worry about doing anything new. No, too crazy. One of Martin's good qualities was his ability to avoid mistakes. Still he was uncertain of himself. He changed his mind. He needed help. He called Sarah, a confidant and generally good person who was in 9th grade. Cute, too.

"Hi Sarah? This is Martin."

"Hey. What's up?"

"I found her!"

"Yeah? You found who? Your math teacher, Pamela Anderson, God? What?"

"I found the girl of my dreams!"

"Bravo! Out with it Martin! What's her name?!! The suspense is killing me." (Pause) "Her name is Emily Crowe. She's perfect. And, I-I, I'm afraid I'm going to blow it."

"Come on, you must have confidence my dear. Otherwise you have no hope."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Hey, um-uhh, have dinner with me on Friday. Maybe you can quell my nerves."

"Sure," Sarah said, her eyes lighting up. Secretly she had been disappointed that Martin had found someone. Somehow, she had always felt that she would end up with Martin. She liked him. He was strong. So much more serious and intelligent than guys her age, she thought. She sighed. They continued to talk, but Sarah was scheming. Maybe she could get him before he fell for Emily completely. It could be her last chance with him.

Sarah Fink was sexy and she knew it. She looked at herself in the mirror. For her big "date", she dressed in a low cut top and some tight blue jeans that were rolled up to just under the knee. She looked herself in the eye and admired her cute features. She turned around to give herself a peek her ass. Perfect. Her parents were out of town. He would be picking her up soon. The doorbell rang.

"Hi Martin", she shouted. "I'll be ready in a sec." She fixed her hair and went to the door.

"Hi Sarah." He said. In his arm there were some flowers. He had really gone all out. She was pleased.

"Hi Martin." She said. "Let's go, I'm starved." With that they were gone.

Martin and Sarah had a very pleasent date. They went to a Thai restaurant that was close to the beach, and afterwards took a long walk by the ocean, taking in the scene. It was a limpid black night, hung as in a basket from a single dull star. They gazed into the darkness with the passionate eyes of lovers. They spoke of their dreams and hopes. He mentioned Emily again; the light was out.

As they drove back to Sarah's house, the two engaged in a silly conversation that belied the more complex situation that both knew was at hand. Throughout the night Martin had felt that Sarah, rather than giving him advice, had been tempting him. The way she looked at him that night was different than she or anyone else really had ever looked at him before. It was a hungry look she gave; one closer to the look a high-class whore must give to her clients than one of teenage love. It aroused him greatly.

When they arrived at her house, Sarah invited him in: "My parents are away," she explained. She started to laugh, "we can have a glass of wine or something."

Some animal instinct in Martin sensed what was going on, but despite his new commitment to Emily, he could not refuse her. She ran to the kitchen.

"Red or white," she shouted, laughing.

"Red, a cabernet if you have it."

"Sure, OK, um, is a-, er, I can't say it! I think it's French. Oh, I'm sorry, sit down somewhere."

She returned to the living room to find Martin sitting on the couch. She gave him a glass of wine; she drank from the bottle. He laughed at her youth. They shared a long silence, staring at each other, absorbed in the scene. He spoke first:

"You know what Sarah, I've never really though about you before in this way, but, well, um, you are very beautiful."

"And you are very handsome." She beamed despite his awkwardness. They shared another moment. She walked over to him. They kissed. Martin wrapped his arms around her young body. He felt her shapely ass, and her firm thighs. She broke the kiss, and jumped away from him. She slowly removed her shirt, and then her bra, revealing breasts beautifully proportioned to her body. She smiled sexily. He sat in awe. He threw of his shirt and slipped of his shoes. He felt his cock throbbing against his khakis. She unzipped her pants and with some difficulty because of their tightness, removed them. He could see the signs of her arousal through her white cotton panties. She went down to her knees in front of him, and her hands went to his zipper. She pulled his pants down to his knees, letting his cock spring free. She smiled again. She was pleased. His cock was large and rock hard. She wrapped her left hand around it, stroking softly. His hand went down to her and petted the soft skin of her face. She bobbed her head towards his cock, as if to ask permission. He nodded by pulling her head towards it. Her lips, bright red for the night, wrapped around the head of his cock. He let go of her face and started to feel her arms. She ran her tongue down the length of his penis, causing him to feel even greater pleasure. Suddenly, with a swift motion she took the whole of his cock into her small mouth, burying it, to its balls. Though she had not been at it long, she felt his orgasm coming on. He put his hand on her head and held her firmly in position as he shot his cum down her throat. She swallowed greedily as quick as she could, but some still dripped out of her mouth. She was a fine sight. They looked at each other, and without hesitation she got up and kissed him deeply. The taste of his own cum repelled him, but her sexual power subdued his disgust. They broke the kiss and smiled at each other.

Without a word, he went to her breasts and teased her nipples with his tongue. She moaned in pleasure.

"I'm going to make you cum," he told her matter of factly.

"Please," she answered him. "Eat me out."

Though he should have been expecting it, the words startled him. He had heard legends of its unpleasantness. But that's all they were, he thought, legends. So, he removed her soaked panties and replaced them with his tongue. He enjoyed it. She shouted curse words at him to urge him on.

"Fuck me with your tongue!" she screamed. He would have been a fool not to.

When the night came to a close, she begged him to cancel his date with Emily.

He would not, but promised he would be back. After he left, Sarah managed to locate Emily's number, and without Martin's knowledge, called her and re-counted the previous night.

The next day, Martin was extremely conflicted. He had loved what Sarah had done for him, but could not take her seriously because she was too young. He was confident for upcoming date though. Sarah had taught him well, he thought. It was time to trade her in.

Despite the knowledge she possessed, Emily still decided to go out with Martin. Martin still did not know what she knew.

Martin took Emily to a sleepy Mexican place in downtown LA. It was dark inside and the two hit it off grandly. Martin flashed his mature intellect and Emily wooed him with her British charm. He was taken by her in a way that he had not been with Sarah. She was everything he wanted. They were kissing as they walked out of the restaurant. Martin could not believe how forward she was. When they got to the car, she motioned for him to come into the back seat with her. The area was fairly deserted but it was not something he had even thought of. Once in the back seat, it became clear to Martin that Emily did not just want to make out. She removed her shirt and showed him her mature body. He rubbed her breast with his hands. She took of his shirt, and to his great surprise, undid his pants. She brought her head down to his cock. She sucked it no less expertly than Sarah had done the night before. She bobbed her head up and down on his cock, taking it all into her mouth when she wished. Her tongue glided effortlessly around his cock head. But as she felt him near orgasm, she did not continue sucking. She removed his cock from her mouth, and threw her shirt back on.

"What's wrong?!?" he exclaimed.

"Sorry," she muttered cruelly, tapping the tip of his cock with her finger.

"I don't go with guys who cheat on me before our first date." And with that sassy remark, she was gone.