A few days later Margery had a new version of the schoolgirl/knee-socks look for me to examine. We met after school on her block, and she looked better than ever. She had changed her appearance notably from the rather sloppy look she had when I first met her. For one thing, she had trimmed her hair so that it fell only to her shoulders, and she had a hairband to hold it in place.

It was her clothes, however, that really got to me that day. I stopped to check out each item before I did anything else. She had the same blue blazer I had seen at the Mark-Dan meeting, but everything else seemed new. There was a white pullover blouse under her jacket, a pleated gray skirt that was just short enough to be interesting, and, finally, the red knee-socks we had speculated about earlier.

She could see the impact she was having on me, and she grabbed her skirt and swished it around. I was entranced by the sight of her thighs which were visible between the hem of her skirt and the top of her socks. I was so distracted that I forgot to kiss her. Instead, I said, “Most of that is new, isn’t it?”

“Yes, except for the jacket; I already had that. Now, I did see a girl on Bainbridge Avenue a while back who had a similar outfit to this, so it has to be the style of one of the schools around here.”

“I think I said Mount St. Ursula.”

“Maybe, that is right near where I saw her. So, Hank, are you going to kiss me already?”

I did that, rather discreetly, but then she grabbed me and hugged me. She then bragged about herself. “You’ve got one very hot little girl here, don’t you?”

Instinctively, I didn’t want to overpraise her. The best I could come up with was, “Well if you say so, then it must be true.”

We were going to get a late lunch, or maybe it was an early dinner. That time in 1972 was at the beginning of a new wave of fast-food restaurants coming into New York. I think until the previous year there was one McDonald’s in the entire borough, and that was where we were going. It was still very much a novelty for us to eat there.

We had to take a Gun Hill Road bus about a mile east to get there. We walked in holding hands and I felt something like pride to have her with me. Then, as we waited in a line, we dropped our hands. Perhaps I wanted to check what I had in my wallet.

At that point, I noticed three guys at a table to my right, college students probably, who were staring at Margery. She was to my left, but she stepped back a bit and boldly returned their gazes. I tried to interpret her expression, which seemed to be a mixture of skepticism and bemusement. I guessed that she was thinking, hey, guys, I see you looking at me. You all would like to get a piece of me, it seems.

I got that she was trying to goad me into jealousy, but it seemed best to just ignore it all. Margery wouldn’t let it go that easily, however. She whispered to me, “Those guys over there; their eyes are all over me.”

Perhaps unwisely, I tried for a joke, “What are you going to do? Take on all three of them at once?”

I instantly knew that I had made a mistake. Margery put on a look of faked outrage and said, “Do you think I’m the kind of girl who does gang bangs?” It surprised me that she had said that. “No, one at a time would be perfectly fine.”

I just smiled and shrugged, but now I was feeling jealousy, plus some anger at all four of them. She must have guessed what I was thinking because she kept talking. “Come on, Hank, you look at other girls; I’ve seen you do it. You’ve even admitted it.”

“So, I suppose we’re even now.” Yet the pride I had felt was replaced with some anxiety. For the first time, I realized that I couldn’t control everything she thought or maybe even did.

I almost always ordered a Big Mac. Being seventeen, I was oblivious to any health concerns and I still liked the taste of those gooey things. Then we took our food outside and sat facing each other at a bench. We were just unwrapping our food when Margery pulled another stunt on me. “Okay, Hank, look at this.” She had her book bag next to her, and she opened it and flashed a piece of white cloth at me before putting it back.

“So what was that?”

“It’s my panties. I mean, I’m not actually wearing any now, as you might surmise.”

“Margery, you’re just messing with me again.”

“No, I’m not. I did promise to tell you when I did it. Just knock something off the table and then squat down to pick it up. When you’re down there, look under the table at me.”

The only thing I had available was the bag my Big Mac had been wrapped in. I pushed on it so that it fell to the ground. I joked, “I just hate littering.” Then I got down to pick it up.

I looked at her as instructed, and she spread her thighs apart so I could see her crotch. Sure enough, I saw her slit and the pubic hair surrounding it.

When I got back in my seat, she said, “Hank, you should see the look on your face. Like, you’ve never seen a pussy before?” That didn’t seem worth a response, but I could see her smirking at me. She had more to say; she held up a finger and said, “But wait, there’s more.” With that, she took off her jacket and put it over her bag. Her blouse was short-sleeved, and she pushed her chest forward. The points of her nipples were clearly visible.

It was my turn to comment. “You don’t have a bra on either. Is that also in your bag?”

“It certainly is. I had to wear it when I was in school, or else I’d have to keep my jacket on all day.”

I thought, I bet those guys inside would like to know all this, but I didn’t say it. Margery folded her hands on the tabletop and said, “I’m such a bad, dirty girl, am I not? I really deserve a good spanking.”

Back in ’72, I hardly knew anything about such things, but suddenly I could imagine doing it. In fact, I wanted to do it to her. I almost said, are you serious? She had something to add, “I bet you’d like to go down to the basement with me later, wouldn’t you?”

I tried to be cool about it, “That sounds like a fine idea.”

“Well, I’ll make it worth your while, I assure you.”

Whatever she was doing, it had put me into a weird mood. I didn’t like the thought I had; I’d like to fuck you down there whether you want it or not. That made me feel ashamed of myself. She’s just teasing you a bit. Well, more than a bit, but we love each other, don’t we?

She could see that something was going on with me. I hadn’t touched my meal, but I had both hands on the tabletop. Her hands went on top of mine. “Hank, you are my sweetie-pie; you mean so much to me.” Obviously, she was trying to placate me, make me feel better. It only partially worked.

Maybe I was trying for levity when I said, “Margery, you really should go back to Confession.”

She must have known where I was going with that. “So what would I say?”

I just winged it. “Like, ‘forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been – well, a while since my last Confession. Father, I have been a very bad girl. I don’t wear panties and I flash my pussy at my boyfriend. Then I take him down to a basement and give him blowjobs. Do you think those are mortal sins?’ ”

“He’d probably fall out the door.” In most parishes, the priest had a door on his booth, while the parishioners had to make do with curtains on theirs.

I said, “Well, the first one might be venal, but I’m sure the oral sex is mortal. I always thought the Church should more gradations, like six or seven kinds of sins rather than merely two.”

“I’m guessing that my lack of underpants is venal, but you looking at my crotch is merely a near occasion of sin.”

“Why? Because I got an erection from it? I suppose that could be considered involuntary.”

“Oh, so you got a boner; I shouldn’t be surprised.” She stood up and leaned over to look at my lap. She obviously was not surprised at all.

“It’s there, believe me.” I added something, “And if I masturbate tonight thinking of you, that’s probably a mortal sin.”

“At least nocturnal emissions are not a sin; they’re completely beyond one's control. But that’s all moot. When I’m finished with you today, I’m sure you’ll be completely drained.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

She laughed at that, and then she looked behind her at the restaurant. “I should go back in there on the pretext that I’m getting more napkins or something. Then, on the way out, I should flash my behind at those guys.”

I called her bluff if that was what it was. “Go ahead, invite them over too. But I get first dibs.”

That must have gotten to her because she frowned. She changed the topic a bit. “You know, Dante had the Lustful in the higher section of Hell. The higher you were, the less grievous your sin was.”

“I haven’t read that one yet.”

“You should, it perfectly explains a part of Christian thought. Anyway, I have another near occasion of sin for you.” With that, she put her left foot onto the seat and moved her leg to the side.

“I can’t see anything.”

“Then stand up and lean over the table.”

I did that, and I saw the sunlight shining on her bare body.

“You definitely are aroused. I think your cock might be about to split your pants open.” I looked into her face, and I tried to figure out what more she was thinking. Hank, I have you in my clutches; resistance is futile.

She put her leg back down and said, “How about I put some red lipstick on to match my red socks?”

“If you want to, sure, go ahead.” I had never seen Margery wear any make-up before. She took out a lipstick case and a mirror.

Just as she finished, she said, “There, I’m sure you will like having these red lips on – what should I call it? Your manhood?”

I wasn’t sure if I was joking then. “That’s kind of a dumb way to put it.”

“You know what it says in The Naked Ape about lipstick?”

“I haven’t read that one either.”

“So this horny British zoologist claims that lipstick is supposed to be a signal to the male. This guy thinks it represents the redness of the female labia, I’d say, when she’s sexually aroused.” I must have blinked at her or something, because she continued, “Come on, Hank, I know you’ve seen that. And please don’t ask me, ‘see what?’ You know what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, I admit I’ve seen it.

She laughed at me. “You know, it’s not too late for you to find a nice normal girl, one who will tell you where she buys her make-up or what brands she prefers. What she won’t talk about is the biological meaning behind it all.”

Maybe I was too honest with her, “But a girl like that would probably bore the shit out of me.”

“Baby, I’m definitely not boring you now!”

 ********

We decided to walk back home. It was a warm afternoon, and along the way, we passed a girl, about our age, who was wearing a red and white halter-top. I tried to avoid looking at her, but just after we went by her, Margery, said, “Go ahead Hank, look at her; I know you want to.”

Since I had been given permission, it seemed, I did look behind me. Margery looked too. “Nice solid ass she’s got packed into those jeans. I wouldn’t mind having a behind like that myself.”

I decided to razz her a bit, “Her tits are pretty nice too.”

She looked pained for a moment, but then she said, “Oh, I see what you’re trying to do. Very clever.”

“Well, I got the inspiration from you, I mean what you did back at McDonald’s.” I was suddenly glad to have called her out on that.

She stuck her nose up and pretended to be acting snooty, “I may not have the biggest breasts in the world, but I think they’re more than adequate.”

“By the way, do you have a halter-top too?”

“No, I don’t. The main point of those things is to flaunt yourself at various guys, like you, for example.”

“I remember there was a girl named Nancy in my history class last year. She would always sit in the front row. When she had a halter on, I could see the side of her right breast.”

“Yes, and I can guarantee that she knew exactly the effect she was having on the boys sitting behind her. Me; I’m not a cocktease, obviously.”

That seemed belied by her reaction to the male customers at the restaurant and the fantasies she may have had about them. She could picture herself sitting on the counter and they would take turns fucking her as they held her legs apart. Wait a minute, Hank, that’s your fantasy, not hers.

Instead, I went back to the clothing issue, and I argued, “You could get a halter and wear a shirt over it in the street.”

“All right, maybe I will. But it’s a little late in the season to buy one. I’ll probably have to wait until next year.”

So she plans to be with me that long? At the age I was then, I had trouble thinking that far ahead. But I knew I didn’t have to comment on it.

*****

Down in the basement room, for a moment we just stood there, looking at each other. There was some kind of tension between us that I had never felt before. It seemed to have something to do with the fact that we had tried to make each other jealous that day.

I asked her, “So how did you feel today, I mean walking around without your underwear?”

Her answer was enthusiastic. “Oh my God, it felt great. I could feel the warm air coming up and surrounding my hips.” She giggled. “It was so good that I got very turned on and I almost couldn’t stand it. I’m surprised I didn’t drip pussy juice on the sidewalk.”

I stepped forward, “Margery, you are a very bad girl, you know that?”

“Of course, I’ve already admitted that.”

“And you know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?”

“Ah, it could be any number of things.”

I grabbed the bottom of her blouse and yanked it up, exposing her breasts. “First they get stripped, then . . .” I wanted to say fucked or spanked, but I knew I shouldn’t. “And then they get on their knees and blow their boyfriends.” With that, I pulled down on her skirt so that it fell to her ankles.

“Please, Hank, make me come first; I really need it so badly.”

“Well, I need it too.” I unbuckled my pants and pulled them down, along with my underpants. My stiff cock stuck out and up. “See what I mean?”

I could see her thinking about the situation. “I’ve got an idea. How about we both come at about the same time?”

“How are we going to accomplish that?”

“It’s easy. We’ll both masturbate and watch each other doing it.”

“Haven’t we sort of done that already?”

“No, not quite. We’ve stroked each other, but we’ve never done it to ourselves when we were together.”

“That sounds kind of weird.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m a bit weird. But I have a pretty hot imagination, don’t you think? Here, look at these things.”

She opened her bag, which was still over her shoulder. “Here is my trusty hairbrush, you’ve seen that before.” Then she took out something else and handed it to me. “And here is a tube of hand cream you can use on yourself. Now, I’m going to sit on the floor. You can be in any position you feel comfortable in.”

It didn’t take me long to decide, “All right, I’m going to kneel here then. That should work fine.”

“This is going to be a lot of fun, I’m sure of that. We can even have a competition to see who comes first.” Margery sat down on the sleeping bag and spread her legs. I would kneel facing her for my share of the action.

Margery pointed down. “You see what I mean, I mean how wet I am right now?” Her pussy was covered with the fluids flowing out of it. Then I noted her strange state of undress. She still had her blue jacket on, but her blouse was up around her neck. Below her waist, she was naked except for her shoes and red socks.

She must have noticed me looking at her, because she said, “I should pose for a Playboy photoshoot, the girls of Bronx high schools or something like that.”

I knew what she meant, “I know, they always have these college girls, like the Girls of the Big Ten for example. And no, I don’t have the issue; I just saw the cover at a newsstand.”

“Anyway, this brush gets quite a workout, even if you are around now.” She pushed the handle into herself and began to move it around. “And of course, it helps if I do this to my clit too.” She used her left hand to push her fingers against herself, and then she moved them around to fondle that sensitive place at the top of her opening.

“Oh yes, this is definitely feeling very good. I bet you don’t know how much girls masturbate, do you?”

“No, I’ve never had one tell me anything about it.”

“Well, we do it a lot, or at least I do. Come on Hank, get going on yourself too. Show me what you’re capable of.”

If you want to see it, then I’ll show you something worth looking at. I put some hand cream on myself, then I gripped the base of my cock and began stroking myself with my other hand.

Near the beginning, we were still able to talk lucidly. Margery said, “I should get a dildo, but an electric one isn’t necessary.” She must have seen that my feelings were hurt a bit, but she didn’t apologize. “You must have heard those jokes, like, how is a dildo better than a man? Because a dildo will never talk back to you.”

I had a comeback, “But a dildo will never tell you it loves you.”

“O-o, that was a good one. So, Hank, who do you think about during your jerk-off sessions, besides me? I bet you have a bunch of girls at your school that you use when necessary.”

I knew I could either deny that or perhaps amplify it, exaggerate my answer in other words. “Okay, yeah, I even have one or two teachers I use in my fantasies.” I didn’t have to make up that fact.

“I’m not that surprised.”

I had a true story about that. “Like Mrs. Silverstein, she came in wearing black hot pants, just once.” Hot pants were a brief-lived 1970s fad in which women wore dressy shorts. That teacher was about twenty-six years old, so they definitely looked good on her, although she knew enough not to wear them to class again.

Margery laughed, “Well, I’ve got hot pants too, in the original meaning of the phrase.”

Yeah, honey, you’ve got that right.

As we got further into our session of pleasuring ourselves, we were still talking but we became less articulate. She said, “You like watching me do this, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, and you like watching me too.”

“Didn’t I tell you this would be fun?”

“God, yes, Margery, I love looking at your sweet wet pussy.” I had never seen a girl masturbate herself before, and I was fascinated by the spectacle she was presenting to me.

In a couple of minutes, I could feel the pressure building in my body, and I knew I was going to win the competition. “Margery, I’m almost there, I’m right on the edge.”

“Well, don’t hold back; show me what you’ve got.”

After that point, I was just babbling things, something like, “Margery, I love you, I love you so much, I’m going to come for you.”

She was a bit distracted by what was happening to me and she slowed her own motions. She joked with me, “I know, there’s nothing like having an orgasm to make a guy say he loves you.”

Her statement, and its slight sarcasm, barely registered with me. In a few seconds, I yelled and then looked down to see my semen spurting out. The biggest shot went up and out, but I was careful to point it away from her.

After that, I moved backwards and sat down. While trying to catch my breath, I heard her say, “Hank, that was so beautiful. I knew you’d come through for me.” Then she said, “But I have my own show for you. Just watch this.”

In a few moments, I managed to say, “This is like a peep show without the glass. Do you think the chicks in those booths come too or do they just fake it? ”

“They’re in there all day, they must fake most of it. It probably becomes just another job for them. But believe me, I’m not faking anything now!”

After that, she just moaned rhythmically as her motions with her brush and fingers became frantic. She said one last thing, “Hank, Hank, I’m going to come, I’m coming right now.” It wasn’t the most original thing I’d ever heard her say, but I appreciated it anyway.

Margery didn’t let me down. At the peak moment, she fell on her back and put her legs in the air. Then she tried to arch her back, but she couldn’t do that with both of her hands occupied with working on her cunt. Still, she made an impressive display of squirming around and loudly groaning something I couldn’t understand.

“That’s it, baby, let it out, give it to yourself. I bet your little clit is exploding right now.”

It was a ridiculous but perhaps accurate thing for me to say. I didn’t expect her to reply, and she didn’t even try. As she finished, she whimpered and banged her feet on the floor.

Then as she lay there with her eyes closed, I looked her over. It was strange to see this supposedly nice high school girl in her situation of partial undress. Yet it seemed more erotic than if she had been completely naked.  

In a few moments, she had a new gimmick for me. She sat up and said, “I promised to put my lipstick on you. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

I rather stupidly say, “You mean blow me?”

She guffawed, “Of course, silly, what did you think I meant?”

“But I’ve got that hand cream on me.”

“No worries; I’ve still got some wine over here. Give me your handkerchief and I’ll clean you off.”

I was impressed by her improvision. Yet I must have looked a bit embarrassed, because she said, “It’s okay, don’t look so sheepish.” When she was done, but before I could respond, she said, “Now, let me freshen my lipstick.” She did that, and then she puckered her lips a couple of times.

I said, “All right, I’m ready now.”

“Yeah, you’re ready all right, I can see that. Stand up and come over here.”

She was kneeling in front of me. It was very exciting to imagine those red lips on my cock. Briefly, I thought of that Naked Ape guy. Desmond Morris, that was his name. Well, his lipstick theory was obviously correct.

She held my hip and my cock as she had during an earlier session, and she carefully ran her mouth around my shaft in an attempt to maximize the amount of lipstick she left on it. And it worked very well. In an instant, I grabbed her head and said something like, “Jesus, Margery, where did you learn to do that?”

She stopped long enough to say, “I’m just making it up as I go along. Now, when I suck on you, that’s going to take some of it off, but you don’t mind, do you?”

I managed to say, “I don’t mind at all, as long as you keep doing that.” This girl is fantastic, I could come all day with what she’s doing.

She also went back to rubbing her lips on me. Her comment was, “Hm, a red cock. I wonder what Professor Morris would say that symbolizes?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” For a second I wondered what his experiences with oral sex were like. He’s married, isn’t he?

When I was about to come, she had a new tactic for me. At the last moment, she pulled me out so that my tip was about an inch away from her face. She stroked me as I shot off into her open mouth. My aim must have been pretty good because only a small bit dripped down her chin.

In retrospect, it was amazing that I could concentrate on that at all. I was groaning, yelling actually, and I was quite loud about it. Then when she had stroked the last spasms out of me, I dropped to my knees and, on an impulse, I put my head on her shoulder.

Margery put her arms around me. “There, there Hank, that all went so well, didn’t it?” I had the odd thought that the tone of her voice was like that of a woman burping a baby.

When I pulled back, I asked her, “Where did you get that idea, I mean the open mouth thing?”

She briskly answered, “From another of those magazines. I guess I didn’t show you that one, right?”

I was still trying to get my wits together. “Ah, no, I think I’d remember a scene like that.”

She went on, “It’s another version of the money shot; the male customers want to see it all shooting out. We discussed that before, remember?” We had discussed it before? I dimly remembered what we had said. She went on, “Now sometimes those porn chicks open their mouths again to show the whole load on their tongues. I assume that is for the male readers again.” She shrugged, “Me? This time I just swallowed it. Maybe I’ll do it differently next time.”

She was so matter-of-fact about the whole topic. I lay down again and she did the same right next to me. She wanted to talk for a little while, but that was fine with me.

##### 

I decided to break at this point. The next scene is their chat, and then more events that inspire a fantasy in him.

Mount St. Ursala is a real Catholic girls’ high school, about a mile away, and it still exists.