Amy, Prom, and the End of Life as We Know It

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Amateur

Okay, so you want to hear about my strange prom and the decision I made to give my prom date my virginity.  The first thing you should know is that I had been planning the event for years, long before I really knew what prom was supposed to be like.  By the time I was old enough to go to prom I was more than ready to give a guy my cherry.   So, I had everything all planned in my head.  Of course, what some teenage girls call a plan is often referred to as a fantasy by those older and wiser.  This was no exception.  My fantasy was to have a handsome hard-bodied man take me to prom, proud to have me clinging to his arm in a low low low cut dress that made every other guy envy him the soft globes of mammary flesh that settled softly on his arm.  And he, of course, would be a dashing hero type, with muscles on his muscles and fighting the inevitable hardon that my sexy bod would spontaneously manifest in him.And we would be the belles of the ball, as it were.Fantasies, as they usually do, fall apart at first contact with reality.  There were several candidates at my high school to be my hero of choice and recipient of my juicy cherry.  My dilemma was which one would ask me, and if I should hold out if A asked me and I thought B might still ask, or if C asked me first and I really wanted to go with B or A.  Somehow, in all the weeks of dressing sexily and doing the strangest mating dance steps to gain their attention, I somehow discovered that A, B, C, and also D, E, and F had all asked other girls to the dance!Whoops!?  Okay, so what’s plan B?  Well, actually D, E, and F were plan B.  Okay, so what’s plan C?  Uh.  Well, there is no plan C.  Better think fast girl, they don’t let singles buy tickets for the prom.Now a little context.  Being a high school kid, I obviously lived at bahis şirketleri home.  I had a mother and father, like most kids.  And I actually had a pretty good childhood, my only complaints being a workaholic father, which meant he was rarely around or involved in the family, and a helicopter mom back in the days before helicopter moms were really a thing.  This made her entirely, uniquely, annoying.  All the more so for helicopter mom’s being such a rarity at the time.  Anyway, my mother was there at the kitchen table one morning, and whether I really felt like talking to her about it or not, it was a momentary lapse of reason on my part to bare my prom concerns to her.  But, it was a week before the prom.  Time was running out fast.  So, I poured out my soul, bemoaning the fact that all six of my intended candidates had looked right over me.  Or, to be more precise, they looked past my amply displayed cleavage.  Hell, at least I had cleavage.  Most girls either had none at all or way too much because it was the byproduct of their resemblance to the Bordon Farms milk cows.So, anyway, I told her my troubles.  And she was appropriately sympathetic, which was both a pleasant surprise and more than I had really expected.  However, further surprising, and irritating, me, she said “Amykins (I absolutely loathed that nickname, but I could never get her to stop), I have the perfect solution for you.  Your cousin, Eddie!”  She was all excited, as if she was the one that was going to prom.  I had yet to learn of people that enjoy life by living vicariously through interfering in other’s lives.  Sometimes I think that little psychological foible was invented for my mother.But as she continued to prattle on about how Eddie wants to go to a prom and his school doesn’t have them so bahis firmaları naturally, we would be the perfect couple.  Yada, yada, yada.  Okay, Eddie was alright, he was tall dark and handsome, and though he was my cousin, nobody at school knew that.  I’d make up some story about him being my boyfriend from another school or something.  This could work.But, I thought late that night, what about my primary focus?  Getting my virgin pussy deflowered and planted properly.  Well, I’d have to shelve the idea for the moment, but not necessarily take it off the table.  Confused by my own mixed furniture metaphors, I went to sleep knowing I would at least get to go to my own prom.  I promptly had an intense erotic dream about Eddie.  I woke up wondering if that meant I was destined to move to the South.  They dated and married their cousins all the time, didn’t they?Prom night arrived, Eddie arrived in a vintage Chevy Chevelle with a custom 440 engine, with glass pack and nitrous and the whole nine yards.  It was way better than a limo!  Mommy dearest waved and said she would see us later.  It didn’t register.  I thought she meant after prom or something.  So, Eddie and I rode in silence for a few moments until he finally turns to look at me.  He literally had not looked at me the whole convoluted mess of picking me up and handing me into the car, etc.“Holy shit!” he exclaimed.  I just grinned at him.  The dress was smokin and I knew it.“Like the dress?” I asked with a grin.  He grinned back and subtly (not) adjusted his seat to get comfortable.  Inside my guts were churning out butterflies faster than a hot summer day after a heavy rain makes mosquitos.He reached back into the back seat and brought two cold beers back and offered me one.  Okay, so it’s not real champagne.  It kaçak bahis siteleri was the champagne of beers.  Good enough.So we talked.  And we caught up on what we’d been doing since the reunion last summer.  That had literally been the last time I saw him, and otherwise we saw each other about once or twice a year.  He had grown, appreciably, since I’d last seen him.The beer was good and cold.  He had a cooler stashed in the back.  I was starting to love that car even more.  I asked about the cooler and the other mods.  He smiled proudly.“I did it all myself,” he proclaimed, “Back seat cooler for beer, storage rack for cassettes, amp for the quadraphonics, power source, nitrous tank and valve spreader.”  As he talked it occurred to me that it was now a two-seater muscle car.  Or maybe three.  It had a bench seat in front.“So there’s no room in back for anybody?” I asked, keeping my voice light.  And I saw the light go on in his brain as his eyes locked on mine.“Hell, Amy, it never even occurred to me you might want this to be… like… a real prom.”  His smile had faded to a frown.  I sighed and patted his arm.“Not your fault, Ed,” I said quietly.  And I told him about my stupid fantasies and how it had been undone at every turn.  I told him how I had planned, as so many girls do, to lose my virginity on prom night with my hunky date.So, we talked.  He had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend and had been going through the male equivalent of what I was.  Not the virginity part, but the part about not wanting to miss one’s own senior prom.  He had hoped to go to his girlfriend’s school’s prom.  He smiled at me and reached out to pull me to him with his arm around my shoulders.“Well, we’re going to prom.  And we’re gonna dance, and drink the crappy punch, and maybe even find a blunt somewhere.  We can stay out late and get a dawn breakfast at a greasy diner and let the whole town wonder who the guy with little Amykins is.”  I was smiling when he started but I smacked him on the shoulder at the end.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın