I was over-thinking it. It didn’t have to be complicated. So when my Dad and stepmother made plans to visit friends for a weekend, I made a phone call. Sam didn’t sound too surprised to hear from me. She accepted my offer without giggling or saying anything foolish.
Friday, after work, I biked home. I showered, and cleaned up. Dad gave me instructions for the weekend, and contact information for where they were staying. My stepmother gave me a list of chores she wanted done. They left. I ate my delicious meal of leftovers.
Then I walked over to Sam’s house. It was only 15 minutes away, if I cut through the park behind the elementary school.
I rang the doorbell, and Sam answered. Tanya wasn’t home, thankfully; she was over at a friend’s. Caroline said hello. Her mother simply said: “Have a nice time. Don’t be too late!”
– “We won’t.” I promised. One of the benefits of having come over so often with Marty, I suppose, was that Sam’s Mom wasn’t too curious – or suspicious – about me.
Sam and I walked back to my house. It occurred to me, as were crossing the park, that she hadn’t said anything stupid yet. I’d asked her how work shift had gone, and a few other simple questions.
– “Sam? Can I ask you something else?”
– “Yeah. Of course.”
– “We’ve been walking for … ten minutes – and you haven’t giggled. Not even once.”
– “I know.” she said.
– “And … pardon me for saying it, but you haven’t said anything … silly, either. I mean, I’m not asking you to, but … how come?”
– “I don’t know. I think it’s because my sisters aren’t around.” she said.
– “Caroline, too. They’re always telling me how stupid I am. And they tell our friends. They tell everybody: Mom, Dad. So I try to say something smart … only that usually just makes it worse.”
I felt for her. Without thinking, I reached out and took her hand. We walked on, in silence, for a while.
– “And the giggles?” I asked.
– “I don’t know.” she said. “I guess I just want guys to like me. Only I never know what to say, or I say the wrong thing. Don’t guys like it if girls laugh at their jokes?”
– “Sometimes.” I said. Only Sam giggled at everything I said.
– “I overdo it, right?” she said. “I know I do. It’s like I can’t stop. I guess I just get nervous, and that’s how I react.”
– “But you’re not giggling now.” I pointed out. “So does that mean you’re not nervous with me? Or not as much as you used to be?”
– “No, I’m not nervous with you, Joe. Not so much, anymore.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Because I know you like me. You do, right?”
I pulled her to me, and kissed her. She responded passionately. We were just down the road from my house – actually, only two doors away from Anne’s house. I didn’t care if any of the neighbors were watching. Sam’s face was radiant when I finally released her.
– “You’re very pretty.” I told her.
It was the first time she’d been to my house. My stepmother wouldn’t let me have friends over unless I got permission first – and there was often a reason why ‘Now isn’t a good time’. Sam got the 10 cent tour, and then followed me to the basement. I got her a drink.
It was decidedly odd. I had just discovered that I didn’t have to talk to Sam. In fact, I liked her best when she wasn’t giggling or saying something stupid. It remained to be seen if she was comfortable enough around me to relax and … well… Wasn’t it Elvis who sang: ‘A little less conversation, a little more action please’?
So I kissed her. Sam kissed me back. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t aggressive, either. I had already learned that much, from our necking session in Marty’s car.
When I searched out her tongue with my own, she responded in kind. And when I put my arms around her, and pulled her close, she wrapped her arms around me. As a test, I slid a hand down to her butt, and gave it a squeeze. A moment later, I felt her little hand settle on my ass, and give it a rub. I came up for air, and leaned back.
– “You trust me, don’t you, Sam?” I asked.”We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to – okay? You tell me to stop, and we will.”
– “Okay.” she said, leaning forward to kiss me again.
Sam didn’t protest when I pulled her close, and let her feel my erection through our pants. When I pressed forward a bit, against her lower belly, she responded by grinding her crotch on my upper thigh.
I lifted up her shirt, and she raised her arms so that I could pull it over her head. Then I took off her bra. She helped, and threw it on the chair, next to her shirt.
For a very slim girl, Sam had nice boobs. She let me cup, fondle, and gently squeeze them. I traced paths with my fingertips. When I bent over to kiss her breast, Sam cradled my head with her hands, and ground her crotch against my leg a little harder.
There was no hurry. We had all night. And Sam was obviously just as turned on as I was. I probably spent twenty more minutes kissing her and her breasts. Then I undid her jeans, and slipped them down her legs.
Her panties followed, and Sam was standing naked in my basement. I stepped back.
– “Can I look at you?” I asked.
– “Yes.” she breathed. No giggle. She put her hands up behind her head, making her boobs perk up very nicely.
Sam was bit too slender: no hips to speak of – her waist was almost wider than her hips. But she had nice legs, those delightful boobies, and that pretty face with the abnormally bright blue eyes. I had no complaints.
– “Don’t ever let anyone say you aren’t beautiful.” I told her.
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