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#Tween
By Quillpen
Busty 13-year-old Darlene Blackmoore tells her classmate Philip Giffner she’ll have passionate sex with him–as long as her uncle can film it.
Part One:
Darlene Blackmoore was her name. A brunette originally from Atlantic Canada, she had been in my class since the first day of kindergarten back in September 1969. My name is Philip Giffner. Amazingly, it was the spring of 1977 now. Darlene and I were approaching the end of the seventh grade, and I really did not know very much about her. Once, back in the second grade, she had told me she thought I was “the nicest boy in the whole school” and that she had even told her mother that, too! I was too naïve to pick up on the fact that she was almost certainly trying to instigate a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. But, hey, I was only seven years old. I didn’t want to be kidded about having a girlfriend at that age no matter how pretty or friendly the female might be.
By the time I was in the fifth grade, I noticed that Darlene, who was slightly taller than most of her female classmates, was among the first of them not to be completely flat-chested. More correctly, Darlene’s blossoming was drawn to my attention by a vulgar boy named Bruce who did not possess a lot of couth; he referred to girls’ breasts as “knockers” or “jugs” within their earshot. Bruce was one of the few kids who routinely swore in the school’s playground and hallways. It was a bit shocking to the rest of us. Times were different back in 1970s suburbia.
By the time April 1977 neared its end, Darlene was ahead of almost all her peers in bra size. The only two girls who trumped her in that category had the unfair advantage of being held back one or two years for academic ineptitude. Therefore, on a truly level playing field, Darlene was the most “blessed” young lady in the seventh grade. In fact, she was probably better built than half the girls who attended the nearby high school that year. Still, she wasn’t grotesquely busty. To me they were the ideal size and shape for her lovely torso.
Then the rumor started: Word circulated that Darlene was sexually active and enjoyed sharing her passions with more than one of the eighth-grade boys. Nobody could pinpoint who these boys were, but just the thought of this adult activity happening in our school was enough to generate some spirited discussions whenever boys huddled together.
The gossip settled down for a while until one Thursday afternoon when Darlene approached me near my locker to have a brief chat. I do not recall Darlene and I ever having a one-on-one chat on any subject before this momentous day, apart from saying hello occasionally if we saw each other away from school. We just didn’t have a lot in common. Darlene walked past me and then circled backwards to make sure no one could hear what she was about to say. “Philip…” she began, “listen to me. I’d really love to have sex with you sometime soon. If you are interested, I’ll meet you on the bench by the water fountain near the main office when school is dismissed. Bye!”
That was the most extraordinary thing I had heard in that point of my young life. My sexual experience was zero. My overall history with females was almost zilch, too. Yet I was just told by beautiful and busty Darlene Blackmoore that she wanted to have sex with me! My mind was a blur, but one thing was for certain. When the final bell rang at 3:40 that afternoon, I would set a world-record time to get to that water fountain.
I was perennially a good student. Academic achievements always came very easily for me. While my classmates struggled with their daily homework, I usually completed it speedily, had plenty of time to check it over, and then killed the rest of seemingly every period with whatever book I happened to be reading. I was the only kid at my middle school who carried a copy of Gone with the Wind, but not even the tricky romantic maneuverings of Scarlett O’Hara could keep me focused on Margaret Mitchell’s famous novel that day. My mind was focused on Darlene Brown’s amazingly naughty offer. I figured there was no living, breathing male who would turn her down. I knew I wasn’t going to be the first one.
Thoroughly distracted by the potential of my first roll in the hay, I think I read page #214 of GWTW five times and got nothing from the words. Then the ball rang. That didn’t mean class was quite over. The geography teacher reminded us of the due date for our upcoming research projects—which I had already completed—and then he let us go. “Hallelujah!” I said out loud, but which I meant to say quietly. I rushed to the place Darlene had suggested. I was crestfallen when she wasn’t there, but it occurred to me that she wasn’t likely to be running there as fast as I had. Sure enough, about a minute later Darlene casually arrived. She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Philip. I’d hoped you’d say yes. Let’s each take a drink from the fountain and wait a few minutes,” she instructed, “then follow me to my locker. In a couple of minutes no one else will be in the hallway but us. We can talk there. This was getting better by the minute.
Darlene led me to where her locker was located. (I had a general idea already.) As Darlene opened her locker to put away some books and collect a bright pink sweater, I said nothing. How does one initiate this kind of conversation? Darlene looked around. Convinced nobody else was near, she said, “Philip, we’ve been going to the same school all our lives. You’re a really nice guy. I’d love to do some sexual things with you. Wonderful, passionate things. I bet this appeals to you, right?”
“Uh…yes it does!” I managed to say.
“I thought so,” replied Darlene, who gave me a little hug for my obvious enthusiasm. That last time I had had any physical contact with Darlene was when our third-grade class had done square dancing in phys ed. “So, here’s the deal, Philip: Tomorrow afternoon you come home with me after school and we’ll have lots of fun together—rubbing, feeling, sucking and fucking. I’m pretty good at fucking—and I like to do it.”
I was about to say, “Pencil me in, Darlene sweetheart,” but she added one important coda: “The one catch is that my Uncle Bill gets to film everything we do.”
I went silent as I was not quite sure I had heard Darlene’s last sentence correctly. After a moment, I meekly uttered, “Film? Like with a movie camera? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah,” Darlene said. “Uncle Bill is in the independent movie business. He’s turned the basement of my house into a small studio. He makes films there for private customers around the world who pay him a lot of money. I’ve been in six of his movies already.”
Darlene explained that her parents were currently in Yemen for at least three years. Her father was a big shot on a major construction project there. Her mother went too, but she didn’t think the restrictive, macho culture of Yemen and a blossoming teenage daughter was a good match. While they were in Asia, they agreed to have Uncle Bill—Darlene’s father’s brother—move into their house to take care of Darlene, who was an only child. A neighbor, Mrs. Kingsford, dropped in occasionally to deal with any female issues Darlene might be having.
I felt compelled to ask, “Do your parents know about Uncle Bill’s movies?”
“No,” said Darlene. “That’s a secret. When my parents come home from Yemen, all signs of the movie studio will be removed before they get here.”
“What do you get out of this?” I asked Darlene.
“It’s a part-time job for me. So far I’ve earned nearly $1700—all in cash. You will be paid too, if you go forward with this. The boy always makes $75 and he gets to have sex with me, sometimes for two or three hours. That’s not a bad deal, is it? Kenny Cavanaugh and Donny Ferguson in the eighth grade were both quite happy about it.” Now I knew the origin the sex rumors.
My math skills kicked in and I did a rough calculation. “So, you would make far more money than I would. Is that right?”
Darlene just smiled. “As Uncle Bill puts it, ‘The customer is paying to see the girl—not the boy.’” Darlene sensed something I didn’t have the nerve to tell her. “Don’t worry if you haven’t had sex before. Uncle Bill and I will guide you through everything. Darlene handed me a folded slip of paper. Here’s my phone number. Think about the offer and call me tonight if your answer is yes. She hugged me again and began to walk away.
I stopped her before she had gone 20 feet. “Darlene, I won’t be calling you tonight. I’m saying yes right now!”
Part Two:
As it turned out, I did call Darlene that night. A million things were buzzing through my brain. I told her my answer was still absolutely yes, but I’d like a few questions answered before I made my acting debut. Darlene suggested I come to her house that Thursday night so I could meet with Uncle Bill in advance and ask all the question I wanted. “Tell your parents you are tutoring me in math,” she suggested. It was a great suggestion. I tossed out that line to my mother. She looked at me oddly and commented, “You never had much to do with this girl or any girl before. Why the sudden change?”
“You haven’t seen Darlene lately,” I quipped.
When I got there, both Uncle Bill and Darlene greeted me at the door. Bill shook my hand like I was a business associate. (Well, I was!) He showed me the film studio he had created—where a large bed was front and center. There were two movie cameras on tripods and several still cameras nearby. A series of lights were stationed overhead.
Bill stated to talk. “Philip, Darlene tells me you are a super nice guy and she’s known since you both were five.” I nodded. “That’s why Darlene chose you—you are a nice guy. In my movies I want couples who truly like each other to make passionate love. Darlene has made six movies for me so far. The first three were okay, but they lacked spark because the boys I paired Darlene with were strangers. The two eighth-graders she knew from choir. They were much better. They’re both good students like you. I don’t want macho jerks. I want real boys, smart boys, boys who will treat my niece like a princess when they make love to her.”
I asked Bill how he got Darlene got into this business. “I couldn’t help but notice how shapely Darlene had become since I last saw her in 1975. I asked her the day after her parents left for Yemen. I explained the amount of money she could make in a short time. I’ve been making these types of movies for a few years now. I know they type of girl who appeals to the buyers. Darlene is perfect. She’s 13, she’s pretty, she’s busty and she just glows when she has sex. She has a true beauty about her, an aura. Her parents would likely kill me if they found out about it, but Darlene and I are keeping this whole business a secret. The movies are only sold directly to private collectors. It’s not like they’re shown in CinemaScope at the local theatre. Most of my customers live in Europe, Japan and South America.
I asked a few peripheral questions about movie-making, and finally Bill said to me, “Philip, I think you and Darlene will be great together. By the way, I make silent movies; there’s no sound nor dialogue. I add a musical score afterwards. Therefore, I can direct the two of you through every move you make. Are you in?”
“Yes, I’m in,” I said. Darlene surprised me with her third hug of the day, this one a substantial one.
“I’m looking forward to fucking you, Philip. I’m going to tell you a secret. I had never had sex until I started making these movies. With you I’ll be so passionate I might make your dick explode!”
I started to leave the room when I happened to see a stack of still photographs on a nearby table. Darlene was the subject of every one of them. Neither Bill nor Darlene noticed as I leafed through the stack. They were breathtaking. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on for any of them. I said to myself. “Yes, you may cause my dick to explode, Darlene.”
I arrived early on the appointed day—which was shifted to Saturday. Can you blame me for my enthusiasm? I told my parents the math lessons were continuing with Darlene. We’d be working on dividing fractions, I said.
The night before was a challenge. Although I was young, healthy and virile, I had to make a point of avoiding anything arousing. I wanted to be fully wired for Darlene or Saturday morning; I did not want to blow a load of cum on Friday night masturbating to visions of Valeri Bertinelli, Brigitte Bardot, or the shapely Bradley girls from Petticoat Junction.
Bill had brought in a second cameraman for the shoot, which was the reason the movie was delayed a day. He instructed me and Darlene to get into the clothes he had put in our respective dressing rooms, which were little more than large cubicles. I was to wear white tennis shorts and a navy-blue shirt with thin red zigzag stripes. To my delight, Darlene wore something classy—a modest peach-colored blouse, a black skirt, and buckle shoes. She looked like she was on her way to a church function. He brown hair had obviously just been washed. It glimmered on her shoulders. I wondered if I would be able to “perform” with people looking on, but after seeing the gorgeous Darlene, I knew I’d would have no difficulty getting up for the occasion.
The movie had no plot. Darlene and I walked onto the stage from opposite directions. We met in front of the bed and embraced. Bill shouted, “Action” and Darlene and I were supposed to do whatever came naturally to us. I decided to start slowly by embracing this beautiful girl in my arms. I kissed her cheeks and then moved to her mouth. Darlene seemed to enjoy this idea too, and she kissed me with equal vigor. We automatically sat down on the bed, but our lips remained locked.
Darlene began to rub circles on my chest with her hand. I took the liberty of slightly touching Darlene’s left breast with my right palm. When Darlene didn’t object and Bill didn’t say “cut”, I figured I could be more aggressive. I cupped her breast with my hand lifted my other hand to do the same to the right one. “Don’t be in a rush, Philip,” Bill instructed. We’ve got all day and lots of film. Take your time. Enjoy this beautiful girl on your bed.” Sage advice it was. Darlene and I remained in a sitting position, but our hands explored each other’s bodies while we were still clothed.
After what seemed like an eternity of romance, Bill said, “Okay, enough of the mush. Time to get down to business. Darlene, peel off your blouse like you did in the last movie.” Arlene slowly unbuttoned her pretty chemise and emphasized the bra—probably a size too small—that was corralling her beautiful tits.
“Philip, keep watching Darlene, but take off your shorts and underwear and start to play with your dick until it gets hard. Do it slowly, and for God’s sake, don’t cum yet.” I was indeed excited but totally under control. When Darlene removed her bra, I gasped. Her breasts were magnificent. They were the envy of every girl at the school and the desire of every red-blooded boy. Bill added, “She’s all yours, Philip. Go get her—but be gentle.”
I ripped off my shirt to become completely naked. Darlene still had her skirt, panties, shoes and socks on. I picked her up like a groom carrying his bride on his honeymoon. I laid Darlene on the bed. She kicked off her shoes. I somehow figured out how to loosen her skirt. Then I lowered her panties to her ankles…and the rest of the shoot is a bit of a blur.
I was told by Bill and Darlene that I had excessively fondled her tits and sucked on her prominent nipples. (I could hardly be faulted for that.) Then I spread her legs wide and licked her vagina like a man possessed. Darlene responded by stoking my dick as lay elevated on some pillows. She then proceeded to stimulate my boner with some wonderful licking. “Geez, Philip, you have a great dick!” I do remember her saying. “Put that thing it my pussy. I want it!”
I lucidly recall positioning myself between Darlene’s sexy legs. I then moved my throbbing dick slowly toward her opening. I took one, long deep breath and I inserted the head into her lovely cunt. I pushed further and more and more of it went inside. It was the first time I ever fucked a girl—and it was truly magnificent. We started to gyrate and thrust together as a team, but I could feel an unstoppable ejaculation coming on. I yelled at Bill, “Where should I come?”
“Pull out if you can…and let her have it!”
Somehow, I managed enough self-control to do just that. I had withdrawn my dick for only about a second before I began to spew my load. Four times sperm was ejaculated from my average-size but powerful dick. I’m glad the cum shot was saved on film for posterity. The first blast was a gooey glob that landed slightly above Darlene’s navel. The second one splashed on her tremendous breasts. The third one actually reached the side of her nose. Darlene sat up for a moment and was promptly hit on the forehead with my final shot. My god, it felt wonderful. I didn’t care that Darlene was covered with jism. We embraced passionately and I ended up wallowing in my own sperm. Bill had us maintain our passionate end-of-scene embrace for several minutes before he called “Cut”.
“Good job, you two. Great job!” he announced. “This one will sell!”
Of course I had no experience to go by, so I took him at his word. Darlene, on the other hand, was the veteran. She said I was more than adequate, although Kenny Cavanaugh from the eighth grade had a thicker and more impressive dick which caused her to have an orgasm. There will always be critics involved in movies.
There was only one shower in the basement, so Darlene and I shared it—another unexpected bit of bonus fun. I immediately got hard again and suggested we film a sequel, but Darlene said she’d had enough sex for one day. I settle for one last suck on her beautiful tits. Darlene had no objection to that.
As I collected my $75 from Bill and prepared to go home, Darlene said, “It’s time for another surprise.” Out walked one of my classmates—a pretty girl of native descent named Cindy Wiley. She had the typical build of a seventh-grade girl, but I thought the curves of her small breasts were lovely too. (Of course, I had kept that to myself.) It turns out Darlene was a friend of hers and had invited her to witness the movie shoot. Thus, Cindy had watched Darlene and me go at it like rabbits from a small, raised viewing area that I did not know existed.
“You know Cindy, don’t you, Philip?” Bill asked. I nodded but said nothing. I was somewhat embarrassed at having performed sex acts in front of another girl I’d known for years. I need not have been.
“Cindy is joining the movie business too,” Bill noted. “Next Saturday she wants you to fuck her just like you fucked Darlene.”
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By Quillpen
#Tween
