Please remember (as is the case with all my stories), if you are looking for ‘Realism’, just move on. As always, I aim for ‘Ridiculously Plausible’. All sexually active characters are eighteen, or older, at the time of the action.
The stories are spread out over various categories, but I am submitting them all at once, in hopes that that will make it easier for the reader to keep track of as they come out. Fair warning, if you try to start this tale in the middle, I make no serious effort to explain prior events. You would likely prefer starting at the beginning. Please enjoy.
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THE ONE WITH CARLA AND BETH
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“If you are not going to make a run at Jenn Potter, how about Poppy Fields?” Britney asked me as she caught up to Ben and me. She had gotten hung up in the dining hall after lunch, but we were all heading for the library for D&D. We usually always played in Adam’s room, since he had one of the cool, weird ones with the big bay windows that had room for all of us to spread out. But Adam’s roommate Lester had some serious homework and had banned us that afternoon. No one cares about spring term senior grades… except Lester’s mom. And Calculus was kicking Lester’s ass.
“What is it with all of you?” I grumbled exasperatedly, including not only Ben and Britney, but my other male and female friends at school.
“You are our friend,” Britney shrugged.
“And you have clearly learned the Secrets of the Girliverse,” intoned Ben sonorously. “It is time to use them.”
Bridget snorted.
“Seriously,” Ben went on. “We are all wondering what will happen in the general populace’s minds if you were to actually have a date here, much less if you keep up that ‘slugging percentage’ of a thousand. Hell, I’m wondering what it would to my perceptions, if you managed to get laid here at school.”
“Oh, so I am a sociological experiment for you?” I snarked.
“Well, you are also my friend. And everybody wants to see their friends get laid,” added Ben, nobly.
“Listen Ben, the perceptions of Alistaire are already changing here,” Britney observed thoughtfully. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you, Alistaire?” she asked me.
“What do you mean?” I temporized. I had, in fact, seen changes in the way people interacted with me, but I was curious to hear Britney’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “Tell us what you mean.”
“He is a subject of conversation now,” Britney said to Ben. “Not like the Talk of the Town or anything, but suddenly, Alistaire gets mentioned in idle conversation, just like other good-looking guys. And you even get asked about occasionally,” she added, turning to me. “Not like, active interest, but in the same way I get asked about Beth, or Carla, or… I dunno, Freida. Never happened before.”
“Well,” Ben said immediately, but very slowly. “I guess I do see one huge change… Britney suddenly thinks you are good-looking, Al.” And then he danced out of Britney’s reach as she swatted at him. That was good, because it kept either of them from catching my blush. I had heard that, too.
When Britney and Ben calmed down, they returned to the subject of me. “But why have things changed here if no one knows anything?” Ben insisted. “Here at school, only the six of us have a clue that anything happened at all with Al.”
“Maybe it is the way you guys’ perceptions of me have changed, and other people are picking up that vibe,” I contributed. This whole conversation was irritating, and uncomfortable on a host of fronts, but it was also interesting. I can’t resist an interesting discussion. Also, I knew I still had so damned much to learn, and anything that might increase my sexual opportunities, now that I had sexual opportunities, was a big priority.
“No, it’s you,” Bridget said. “I don’t think you have any idea how differently you are acting suddenly.”
“Al is still Al,” scoffed Ben.
“He is to us,” Britney replied. “No, even to us, Al is now Alistaire.”
“I am not buying into your crazy name change schtick,” Ben chuckled firmly. “He’s Al.” God Bless You, Ben.
“Carla’s little joke is spreading, you know,” Britney said with an evil grin. “It’s not just us. Other girls have started using the name, too. Hell, even Ms. Taylor called him Alistaire in the hall yesterday,” she laughed.
“Oooh!” Ben said, wide eyed. He elbowed me. “Maybe you should just hit that!” he chuckled, referring to the 24 year-old rookie teacher who was, honestly, a walking wet-dream.
I just shook my head, but didn’t smack him or anything. I’ll admit, I didn’t hit Ben because I was too busy visualizing Ms. Taylor’s tits. There was the after graduation party… The faculty all came to that. It was also explicitly designed to be the first time we all interacted together as adults, not students and teachers…
I’d be a fucking legend.
I realized that we had all stopped walking.
Ben and Britney were looking at each other.
“My God,” Ben said to Britney. “I think he is trying to work out in his head how to actually nail Ms. Taylor!”
“Christ,” muttered Britney. “See what I mean?”
*
The next Saturday was gorgeous. New England springs, when they aren’t snowing out of nowhere, can be beautiful, and this was a perfect example, with high, blue skies, the faintest zephyr of breeze, and a few degrees warmer than usual. The Track meet was over early, since the other school didn’t have enough guys to field a complete JV. That meant that each event that didn’t have a JV race took only two-thirds the time to run, and I was in the lovely but uncomfortable position of walking slowly back to the main campus with Beth and Carla. Britney has actually left the meet early. That was usually a cardinal sin, especially for distance runners. We needed the most cheering because our races were so long, and we were expected to repay that much-appreciated attention with our own cheers for everybody else, all the way to the bitter end of the meet. But Bridget was baby-sitting for the Sarniokis. That was cool for Bridget. The Sarnioki munchkins were among the least annoying of the faculty brats.
But that left me wandering along with two good buddies, both of whom I was having sex with, unbeknownst to anyone, including each other. To be honest, the real reason that I had not made a pass at either, or both, of Jenn Potter or Poppy Fields was that I didn’t have the time.
I had class. I had Track. I had D&D. I still had a little homework. I even had two clubs. Those clubs had done their job as extracurriculars, helping me get into USC, but now they still consumed a couple of valuable hours a week while I and the other seniors involved handed over the reins for next year to the hapless morons, I mean the Juniors, who would be running those clubs the next year.
And I had two friends who each seemed to suddenly think of me as a piece of recreational equipment whenever the opportunity arose. And I had to keep that last bit secret, lest that it get weird. (For everyone else. It was already weird for me!)
I had no time to work on kissing Poppy’s pretty mouth, or burying my face in Jenn’s impressive rack. I have be honest, of course. I certainly was thinking about both of them. And I was making it a practice to pay special attention to each of them whenever we passed in the halls.
And the worst of my situation was, when Beth and Carla were not individually alone with me, and sometimes even when they were, their behavior would revert to our old way of just hanging out as friends. Unless we were alone, they treated me like nothing was going on, just like Ben and Britney did. Like now.
“So everyone is agreed that you need to work on either Jenn or Poppy,” said Carla, the girl with whom I had traded some awesome oral a few days ago during a mutual free period.
“Yeah. Just pick whether you are more interested in the Jenn’s tits, or Poppy’s more balanced package,” agreed Beth, the girl I already had plans to fuck later that evening. “Time for you to go for it, Alistaire.”
I swear, Beth, Carla, and even Britney–especially Britney, were more raunchy and explicit in the way they teased me about my sudden non-virginity than were my dudes. I honestly didn’t mind it, to my surprise, but it was still very strange. Sex, as a subject of conversation, had never, ever, existed between me and the girls before this spring. And now this shit overlaid every, single, god-damned conversation.
“Why the fuck do you morons all insist that either of them, much less both, are some kind of sure things?” I grumbled. “They are both cool, attractive people. I’m just a gangly guy who has gotten lucky lately.”
It is impossible to exchange subtle glances with two girls walking on either side of you, without them noticing you are doing it with the other, so I just looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with each.
“Trust me, either one is primed,” Beth said.
“I talk to both all the time,” Carla added. “Trust me. The subject of you has come up.”
“What?” I yelped. “I thought you were not going to burden me with ‘Yelp reviews’?”
“Oh calm down, Nancy,” laughed Carla. “It is always just in passing. It’s not like we went to them and asked if they were interested in hopping on board the Alistaire Experience, with his allegedly enormous cock…
Even I laughed at that. Beth did to.
Then Beth added, as her chortling subsided, “Nothing alleged about…”
My laughter died two words into that utterance. So did Carla’s.
Beth only realized what she was doing after we did, then shut up like someone snapped off the power.
I got used to conversations and walks coming to simultaneous stops during that spring.
“‘Nothing alleged about it’?” Carla asked with almost predatory sweetness. “Do you have something to tell me, Beth?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What do you mean? Uh… I mean, no. Why?” Beth almost stuttered. I didn’t dare say anything myself, but come on, Beth, you can cover better than this…