1. Teen Spirit


    Date: 8/18/2015, Categories: First Time, Author: BradleyStoke, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    asked Chris, naming Lottie’s closest friend. “It’s different. Pam’s more like what Dad was like!” Chris didn’t like the analogy at all. But he hoped his sister couldn’t see the erection that had inexplicably sprung on him, hidden though it was by the duvet covering his body. In fact, what made it most difficult to think of Pam as a substitute father was precisely this very aching in his penis. An aching he relieved by masturbatory sessions that were guiltily focused on Pam. And this obsession was what he most feared Pam might notice during her progressively frequent visits to his bedroom. Visits that seemed to take place rather more often on those evenings when his mum was out, perhaps at her aerobics classes or working late in the office. Visits that had become so significant to Chris, he made the unprecedented concession of taking off his heavy metal CDs, and putting on a radio station, randomly chosen, that played quite different music to his normal choice. These conversations were a novel experience in Chris’ life. Except perhaps with Lottie, he’d never really chatted with a girl or, even, a woman. And they were very different to his conversations with Pete and Stu. He found himself opening out, talking more freely than he imagined he could. He talked about his studies. His feelings about Martin and his girlfriend. Why he’d originally chosen to study Geography when he could have studied History or English. His thoughts when he first met Melissa, his dad’s lover, and how ...
    much he hated her. And all the time, Pam sat next to him on the bed. Wearing a tee-shirt under which Chris knew just what treasures were hidden. The nipples and the slight upward turn to the bosom. Wearing baggy trousers that hid the hairy patch that featured so vividly in his masturbatory fantasies. Meanwhile, he sat in his Guns & Roses tee-shirt, with jeans, trainers and lank brown hair that fell so often over his face, thankfully obscuring those persistent zits of his. And then, most troubling of all, were those occasions when Pam touched him. A kiss on the cheek when they met or parted. The clasped hand when Chris was close to tears as he described his anxieties when his dad drove off with Melissa in the Volvo packed with all those old rock LPs of his dad’s. The ones he used to listen to before he was able to buy his own CDs. The occasional tousle of his lank long hair when he said something that somehow touched or otherwise affected Pam. She spoke to him, too, but her confessions, in comparison to his, were undetailed and unfocused. The boyfriend she’d almost married. The friends she’d made who taught her that there was more to hope for than a life of marriage to and sex with a man. (She said this almost bitterly, which puzzled Chris, who assumed that was what all women most wanted). The break-up between her own parents who’d waited until she was at university to announce the fact. But it was the touches that Chris remembered most well. His hand would burn for hours with ...
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