Message-ID: <18220eli$9812230449@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Robert Kraft Subject: Right Turn on Black: Chapter 2 - A Night to Remember (Part 1 of 3) by Robert Kraft Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19981223020027.784.rocketmail@web305.yahoomail.com> WARNING: These stories contain graphic language, sexual actions between M/F and F/F, as well as violence, illegal substance abuse, immorality, and illegal activity. If any of the above offend you, please do not read this story. All stories are copyright. These stories are two parts fact, one part fiction. Some names and places have been changed, and a few events are slightly embellished or different (usually cause I don't remember exact words spoken), but everything is pretty close to a real situation. If you recognize yourself in this story though, it probably isn't you! Please forward comments/requests to: RKraft99@yahoo.com ***A note from the author: Please feel free to submit comments through email. I am away for the holidays, so I will not answer until next year (!). I will be transcribing more chapters after the holidays, and posting a chapter guide listing content of each chapter. BTW, if you are wondering, Chapter 33, "The Wine Tasting" is part of this same story, just much later in time. Please email me for more info. Thanks, Rob Kraft.*** Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft Chapter 2: A Night to Remember, Part 1 My first foray into some semblance of a romance was with Michelle, in tenth grade. Prior to that I had not dated, except a few of the typical group dates where eight or ten people gather to hang out at the movies or at a restaurant. But no one is paired up, and there is no one on one relationship going on there. Michelle was in my grade. She was studious, and quiet. She was new to the school, having just transferred from Colorado for this year, and she didn't know that many people. Until mid-semester I did not really know her at all. We were assigned to translate the same part of the Aeneid in Latin class towards the end of November. I wasn't particularly interested or disinterested in her; she was average in the face, and her body was decent but nothing special. She had dark brown hair, and nice green eyes. She wore glasses that hid them, however. She was in the thinner side, but she was short and her waist was low so she looked of average weight. I had gotten out of my skirt phase a little over the summer, and was feeling that particular longing that kicks in around 16. I guess the voyeur obsession had worn off and was replaced by a desire for something real. We met in the library after classes on the Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving. I was there first so I got a table clear and started some work. I spotted her entering the library a few minutes later, and I gave a small wave as she looked my way. I felt a twinge of nervousness. She was carrying an armload of books, a coat and some gloves, and had a pack on her shoulder. "Hi Rob." "Hi." "Have you started already?" she asked. "Not really," I replied. "O.K. Ms. Bianchi kept me late in English." "It happens." "What part are we working on?" she asked as she settled into the wooden chair opposite from me. "I think the arrival in Carthage part where Aeneas meets Dido." "Great. It doesn't much matter, it's all hard." "Tell me about it." There was an awkward silence as she exchanged her English books for Latin ones from her bag. Awkward for me at least, so I flipped to the back of the textbook and pretended to lookup a word. "Alright. Where do we start?" she asked. "Page 43, half way down." We began the laborious translation process. About twenty minutes into it we hit our first snag. "Man this sentence is a load," I exhaled. "Yeah. I still don't get this word. It must be some tense we don't know," said Michelle. "Are you thirsty?" "Yeah, a little," she said looking up. "Let's hit the caf and get something." I emphasized the "caf"; that was the cool thing to say at the time. "O.K." "So, how do you like it here?" I asked on the way down the stairs, after a brief silence. "It's O.K. Colorado - that's where I'm from - is quite different from Connecticut. It is actually much closer to home in someways; more than I thought." "Where did you live in Colorado?" "Boulder." "Did you live there your whole life?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. "Yeah, except a few early years in Colorado Springs." "I've always wanted to go there." "Yeah, it is cool. I guess I took it for granted while I was there. I miss looking out the window at school and seeing mountains." Michelle looked for some change in her wallet. I jumped in. "Here, I got it." The boldness! I thought. "Oh, thanks, I'll pay you back upstairs." "Don't worry about it." "Thanks." "Get used to it I guess," I said, talking about the mountains. "I mean - that.. I am talking about the mountains, like get used to small mountains, not that I'll, like pay for you everytime - I mean, not that I wouldn't or something." I was stumbling over words. She was smiling a bit. "The, uh, highest mountain peaks here in the East are lower in elevation than the city of Denver." That was a geeky thing to say, I thought immediately. I was sort of nervous, for some reason I couldn't quite figure out. "Really?" she said, with some interest, as she pressed the button for a Coke. "Yeah. I like to ski. I wish I could get to Colorado sometime." I felt my face cooling off again. "I ski too! That's cool. Where do you ski around here?" she asked, looking at me. I popped some more change into the machine. "There are the Catskills, they have the best close skiing, I think. Vermont is close enough for a weekend trip or really long day trip. That's probably the best around out here in the East." I picked a Sprite. "I've heard of Killington. Where's that?" she asked, as we headed for the door. "That's Vermont. I think it would be about four to five hours from here. The Catskills are about 2 hours or so. Actually, maybe a bit more. I usually go to Hunter Mountain with my family. It's the best one in the Catskills." "Is there a ski club here at the school? Probably not - " "Yeah, actually. There are seven people in it, but usually more people go on the trips than that. There's actually a trip for this Friday, right after Thanksgiving." "Already? It hasn't even snowed yet!" Michelle exclaimed. "Actually, there's a lot of snow this year. They have had freezing temperatures the whole month, non-stop. Which means non-stop snowmaking. Plus they got a few inches of fringe snow in that storm that went through over the weekend." "That's weird. In Colorado, they rarely make snow. Plus, by this time the season is really going, all with natural snow." "So I've heard. That's probably one of the main differences you'll ever find if you ski here. It's all artificial snow. Well, it's not artificial, but artificially made. It's close to natural snow, but a little more icy, like frozen slush." "Sounds miserable for skiing." "It isn't too bad." "Where are you going on Friday?" she asked, as we reached the library and sat again. "Uh, Hunter, actually. It should be a good trip. It was going to be Butternut in Massachusetts, but they had some tornado or something and they are closed for a bit till they clear some trees and stuff out of the way." "Wow, I didn't know you had tornadoes out here." "We don't. It's rare." "Well, back to this stupid sentence." "Yeah," I said, feeling some disappointment that our good conversation run was ending. We struggled with the sentence for five more minutes. "It all comes down to those two words," I said. We sat in thought for a few moments more. I actually started thinking about the skiing trip. I wonder if - "I got it!" Michelle exclaimed. She got up and came around the table to my side. She leaned in, with a gentle hand on my shoulder, and pointed to a previous spot in our translation. I caught a breath of peach scent. It was nice. "Here," she pointed, "this sentence had the same structure and conjugation as this one, so this must be ablative. We just need to see what it refers to." "That's it there. Good thinking." I was impressed. Between that and the peach smell, I actually started to feel some interest in her. "Here, this must be the translation." I wrote it down. "Yeah. That actually makes sense with what comes up next." "Cool. That was a good idea," I said, looking up at her. She straightened up, and looked me in the eye. "Thanks." We continued working for another while, with renewed enthusiasm. Another tough sentence stopped us again. "So how much is that trip to Hunter?" "On Friday? It's 28 bucks, plus lunch, so like 35." "That's not bad. In Colorado it usually runs higher than that." "Are you interested in going? There's still lots of room." "I don't know. I haven't skied in while. Well, since last year." "Well, I don't think anyone really has skied this year yet!" "True," she said with a laugh. "I'll ask my dad. We might be doing the family thing this weekend." "O.K." We worked another span, until it was getting dark. "I hate to ruin our translation run, but I gotta get going," I said. "Yeah, me too. I gotta get to dinner." We started to pack up. "When do you want to finish the translation?" "Let me give you a call. What's your number?" I gave her my number. "I can't meet tomorrow, I have some crap to do at home. With my dad," I added. "Is tomorrow a half day?" "Yeah." "Maybe this weekend or something," she said. "O.K." We walked out into the brisk night. There was one of those gusty winds blowing that seem like a remnant from Halloween. I saw a car waiting in the lot. "Is that your dad?" we both asked at the same time, and then laughed. "No -" we again spoke simultaneously, with that feeling you get when you are walking towards someone head on and you both move the same way several times in a crazy pedestrian dance. "You first," I said, with a smile. "I'm walking home." "Oh. Me too. Well actually, to the train station, where my dad gets back from work. Where do you live?" "Down on Woodell." "That's sort of the same direction. You mind if I walk with you?" "Sure! I mean, that's fine." We set off into the night. It was a new moon, or near to it, and once we left the lights of the school lot and headed down towards Broadway, it was uncannily dark, especially for 6:30. I looked up overhead. There were many stars making an appearance already. It was cold out, so I pulled up my collar a bit more. Michelle had pulled a hat out from her bag. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and the hat looked cute on her. We walked in contemplative silence for a while, and I was feeling good. There was a crisp cleaness about the air, like the mossy air of summer had finally dissipated for good. The leaves were falling in number with the wind gusting as it did. It was strangely eerie, but not unsafe feeling. "The stars must look great in Colorado," I said, breaking the silence. "Yeah. I used to go out often and look at them. One of my friend's dads had a telescope, and sometimes he would take us out and we could look through it." "That's awesome." We were silent again, although it was not an uncomfortable silence anymore. The leaves presented us with an ever varying rushing sound. The atmosphere brought back a recent memory: I thought back to last month, Halloween: ... It was a night quite like this one. A group of five of us, including Luke and Joe, who was another good friend of mine, were cutting through yards to reach the Crossroads, where we gathered in those days to meet up with other friends. In my town, Halloween was a night of mischief and more. People went crazy; eggs and shaving cream were a must if you even walked out your door. A few assholes supposedly carried more dangerous items like mace and spray paint on them, but I never heard that they were ever used. Generally a few stinging eyes from shaving cream, some ruined clothing, and a few trampled bushes were the extent of the damage. We had been drinking already. The five of us had met up at Luke's and drank a bottle of wine. Luke had filled the empty before we left, with Johnny Walker from his dad's ample liquor closet. Luke had me carry the bottle in my pack. I was feeling good, with a bit of a buzz starting up. The chill air felt good on the face and our group was in lively conversation. Luke was talking about his girlfriend Debbie. I was a bit envious of Luke. Debbie was after all, very hot. She was on the track team, and was the one who had appeared in heels and a track uniform that one afternoon way back when. Even though I was a little jealous, it wasn't anything. Besides, I had been able to meet her a few times in the course of her relationship with Luke. And who could blame her for going out with Luke? Luke was, at least to most people, very handsome. He had grown out of his doofy looking stage last year, and was starting to mature. His family was pure Italian, and he had that Italian complexion and light, but deep eyes that are so desirable to some women. The phrase "Tall, Dark, and Handsome" applied to him. He was an athlete, and had a strong, well-built body. Physically, he would be the envy of most guys. We had grown up together; Luke lived just across the street. Since both my parents had relatives in Italy and spoke Spanish (which is easy to adapt into Italian once you speak a few times), our families got along well. Luke's dad worked in the importing and exporting business, and was well off, even if there were perhaps dark currents carrying some of that money. Back to Halloween. As we were strolling along residential roads and grassy lawns, Luke was telling us how horny Debbie could be. They apparently hadn't had sex yet, but they had gone almost as far. The rest of our group was all ears. None of us (as far as I knew) had been very far at all with anyone. But hey, we were a year younger. Luke didn't give any details but alluded that he had received a few blowjobs, which to the rest of us was dream territory. He was supposed to meet up with her before he came out, but she never showed up, so he was wondering where she was. Right then, a pack of people approached us from a side road. We paused, all of us standing in their coolest stance (It was quite a time!). "Who's there?" came a girls voice. "Chicks!" Joe whispered. "Should we bomb 'em?" "Maybe. Let's see who it is," said Luke. I reached into my bag and gripped an egg, and loosened the shaving cream can in my pocket. You never knew who was going to attack. So far we had not met opposition that night; the night was young yet, however. "Luke?" came the questioning call from the dark figures approaching, although perhaps a bit slower now that they were in range. It sounded like Debbie. "Yeah," called back Luke. Debbie pulled away from the crowd and ran towards Luke. For a second I pulled out an egg. It was she. I returned it to its warm pocket. She leapt onto Luke, and planted a huge kiss on his lips. She had a winter ski jacket on, so that softened the blow, I suppose, but Luke nearly fell over. He was able to hold on. The group accompanying Debbie met up with us. They were her friends, four girls. I didn't know them; they were all juniors. There was an awkward silence between the two groups, except for Joe, who knew, and was somewhat friends with Clara. They started up a little chat. "Let's go now, I want it." I thought I heard Debbie say quietly to Luke. It sounded like that at least. Luke said "Alright." They separated. Luke spoke: "Debbie needs to get some shit from home, so I'll meet you guys at the crossroads in about fifteen." "Alright," someone acknowledged. I knew where Debbie lived, and it was probably a good ten minutes each way from here, and we were another ten yet from the crossroads. Something was up, or Luke really had some bad sense of timing. I looked at Luke. Cool as a cat. I looked at Debbie. She looked pretty excited, but that was usual. There was a glint of mischief in her eye. Yeah, something was up. "See you there," I said, as the new larger group made its way down the street. I briefly glanced back, and thought I saw them heading into the woods at the end of the street. Not quite the way towards Debbie's house, I thought. I slowed to tie my shoe and rummage through my bag. The group moved on, and soon turned onto another side road. I quickly got up and ducked into a backyard, and quietly made my way back towards the area where Luke had gone in. I almost walked right into them as I rounded the corner to a house. There they were, Luke leaning up against the house, Debbie pressed against him kissing him, about 20 feet away. I crouched back and looked from around the corner. Thankfully I had made no sound on arrival. The moon and a streetlight gave some feeble illumination. Debbie knelt down in front of Luke, and started to unbutton his pants. Luke stood motionless. Debbie struggled with the combination of pants, coat, shirt and underwear, but eventually reached a hand in, pulled out Luke's dick, and gave a little giggle as she started to stroke it slowly, before putting it in her mouth. I watched with fascination. I had never seen live sex before. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but I could make out Debbie's cheeks sucked in as she slowly moved back and forth on his prick. Luke reached down and grabbed Debbie's head, and pushed her into his groin further. Debbie made a noise. Whatever she said Luke did not back off. She must be swallowing his whole dick, I thought. Her nose was pressed into his belly all the way. Occasionally as she pulled back for some air, I could see Luke's glistening rod. He started to increase the pace, and breathe harder. Debbie reached a hand up and grabbed the shaft, and started to stroke it hard, leaving the tip in her mouth. Suddenly she moved to one side, removing her lips, and stroked Luke fast. A few white spurts of cum shot from his penis as Luke gasped a few times. The first on hit Debbie on the face, probably by mistake because she wiped it off with a grimace, and a grin. She aimed his penis away for the rest of the deposit. Debbie got up, wiped her hand on her pants and pressed into Luke and gave him a big kiss. She turned around and backed into him, wiggling her ass against his somewhat hard dick. He reached around and up her jacket, up to her boobs. He whispered in her ear. "You're welcome," she answered with a smile. "Let's go. I wanna go kick some ass!" said Luke, pushing her off gently and fixing his pants. "Maybe we should wait a bit, or it will look suspicious." Luke pulled out a can of shaving cream, and sprayed some on himself and then on Debbie's coat. She laughed. "We'll just say we met another group, and had to turn back." "O.K., but let's wait a few more minutes. Kiss me." They pressed in and kissed. I was amazed at what I had seen. I had an idea of what they would be doing before I stumble on them, but I never thought I'd get that close to see it. I gathered myself, and crept back through the yards the way I had come. As soon as I was out of earshot in the next yard, I was sprinting. I didn't want to seem suspicious to either party. I caught up with the group pretty quickly. They had apparently stopped to chat with another small group for a few minutes on the way, and I reached them near the corner of Ridge lane. "Where were you?" asked Joe. "I had something in my shoe, and my bag was hanging wrong. What'd I miss?" "Nothing. Looks like we are adding to our party," he said with interest. "Let me have some of that juice, man." I pulled open my sack and extracted the wine bottle with the Johnny Walker in it. Joe uncorked it, took a long slug, and passed it to me. I drank. "Is that wine?" I heard a voice. It was Clara. "No, whiskey." "Mmmmm.. Can I have a little?" I passed her the bottle, and she took two long sips, followed by a long hiss as the liquor burned down her throat. "Ahhh. That's some good shit. I'm gonna feel tonight tomorrow." "She's been at a Halloween party already,' Joe explained to me. "What were you," I asked. "A drain." "What?" "A drain. I told people to pour they're drinks down me." I laughed. "That's a good one. Did you dress up for that?" "Nah. Just went to get a little buzzed before hittin' the streets." She let out a burp. "Oh, that was lovely Clara." I took the bottle back after she took another slug. I offered Joe another taste, and then took a last one myself. I was feeling it now, so I returned the liquor to my bag, and we set off into the night. END OF PART 1 - Look for parts 2 and 3 separately Copyright 1998 by Robert Kraft -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----