Chapter 1
Patsy Devlin flipped through her stack of records. Something extraordinary was called for, but she couldn't make up her mind.
It would have to be something hard, with an edge to it.
Perhaps the new "SLEDGEHAMMER" album. She loved them, particularly the lead singer, Zitly Gutface.
Ever since he'd been let out of prison, he seemed to have found new depths of creative anarchy. There was some confusion at their last concert, which had resulted in the band being banned for all time from the state of Florida. Zitly, of course denied that they had actually slashed the pig's throat (on stage, anyway, he owned up to having "stuck the swine' before the show, you understand), but the horror and revulsion that had ripped through the northern part of the state (a well known pig center for the entire nation) had been enough to cause several laws to be passed in the legislature down in Tallahassee, the State Capital.
Well, impressive creativity or not, Patsy was not quite in the mood for Zitly or "SLEDGEHAMMER". No, she was more in the mood for ... that's what it would be! "SLUTBOY SLIME, AND THE MUCOUS MEMBRANES". Of course. This called for a truly raw edge, and only Slutboy Slime could provide it.
She brushed a pink, gold, green and metallic blue strand of hair out of her eyes and placed the plastic disc on the turntable.
In the next room, Johnny Swanson waited, not yet quite aware of exactly what he was in for.
When Patsy invited him over, (and made a point of telling him that her mother would not, repeat, NOT, be home), she'd naturally assumed that he'd gotten the message.
So far, however, he'd confined his conversation to the unblemished record of the Mutant High football team, the renowned Deviants, of which he was the quarterback.
Why, it occurred to some to ask later, when they heard the tale, did Patsy Devlin even want to be in the same room with Johnny Swanson ... to say nothing of her own living room?
Rumor had it the boy still went to church.
Can you believe that shit? CHURCH?
Well, the truth was, Patsy's one and only, one fine gentleman who went by the name of Sot Madden, was flunking history. If he flunked history, that was it.
They'd just throw him out of school, and he didn't want that because the draft was gearing up and that meant he'd have to go in the army, which wouldn't agree with him at all.
Johnny Swanson's father taught history. Patsy needed to get the answers to the history final exam (which Sot had been told would determine whether or not-he'd pass).
Are things becoming clear?
She wasn't too happy about the situation, but, to be honest, neither was Johnny when you got right down to it.
He was, actually, quite uncomfortable, and didn't really know what he'd do about the situation.
His reason for being there was Patsy's younger sister, who Patsy had promised him would be there.
Things get a little complicated, but when you realize that everyone just wanted to get laid, it gets a little easier to understand. For one thing, Johnny Swanson, while not in the same league as Zitly Gutface or Slutboy Slime, was without a doubt an ass-hole in his own right. He was just more along the old cut-and-dried lines of the typical high-school, fuck-'em-and-leave-'em-to-walk-home type of jock.
Things were, as they say, brewing.
Patsy walked back into the living room as the first rancid chords poured off of Slutboy's guitar.
"Hey, that's pretty heavy," said Johnny, "but don't you have any Beatles or Stones?"
"Oh wow, like maybe you'd prefer Frank Sinatra or Tommy Dorsey or maybe Dizzy Dean."
"You mean Gillespie."
"Oh. All right. Have it your way. Gillespie Dean, or whatever the fuck you want to call him."
Johnny looked a little perturbed.
"Um, look, I kind of thought that you said your sister was going to be here."
Patsy hopped up onto her knees and put her arms around his neck.
"Yeah, well, I guess I lied to you."
Jimmy looked at her.
"Oh yeah?"
"Urn hmmm."
He looked a little puzzled. Then, (to Patsy's immense relief) he seemed to actually notice that she'd unbuttoned a few of the buttons on her blouse while she'd gone in to put on a record.
He was actually staring right down into her cleavage ... looking at first just a little confused, and then, as the light dawned over the vast empty space between his ears, a faint grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"Why'd you tell me your sister would be here when she isn't here?"
Patsy, by way of reply, stared at him with an 'Oh-come-on,-dumb-ass' look.
He finally got the message.
That's when it dawned on her.
The guy's a virgin, she told herself.
Suddenly, it all made sense. He'd never expected her sister to be here. She'd already let him know that she thought he was a stupid turd and that he should throw himself in front of the nearest fast moving vehicle. He'd known all along what was in store, and why he'd been invited.
Well, maybe he didn't understand all about Sot. She didn't want to give him too much credit, after all. But he'd known that spread legs and a stiff cock were what was on the menu.
She looked at him with renewed interest, as if noticing him for the very first time.
"Hey, haven't you ever been laid before?"
He turned crimson. Then he turned scarlet.
Then he turned blue.
"Hey," Patsy cautioned, "don't go swallowing your tongue over it, for Christ's sake. I just asked. It's all right. I mean if you're a virgin and all. I mean, face it, everyone has to get their cherry broke one time or another, and until you do, you're a virgin, right?"
"Um, uh ... " stammered Johnny, looking like he had to take a real bad leak.
Patsy, it should be pointed out, was not what you would call, a lady of grace, taste or class. She'd come to be known, among the faculty of Mutant High School as 'that little bitch'.
She'd just moved there from Los Angeles, and her initial dismay at finding the local punk scene lagging far behind what it had evolved to in LA, was only slightly greater that the local dismay at the fact that it had finally arrived.
Multon, Florida, a piece of dirt stuck along the banks of the Blackwater river about the same as a piece of shit sticks to your shoe.
That's how Patsy had described it to her friends in a letter.
Sot Madden was the closest thing she could find to a true punker, and even he fell far short of the bill. What he had going for him, however, was a limited vocabulary, analytic skills and logical faculties that were even more limited, and a tendency to show up stewed to the max on one combination of drugs or another.
"Hey man, you ever done up any luudes, huh man?" Patsy's asked him when she first got to town.
To her relief, drugs had preceded her arrival by several years, and while the social evolution of the local youth was no where near that of LA's scene, there were enough drugs to blunt the effects of living in a town with roughly the same population as your last high school.
Of course, there were times when she wanted to slit her wrists.
And then, there were little challenges like this one, trying to seduce the quarterback of the Deviants.
Christ! She was having to force herself on the lunk!
"What's the matter," she asked, looking openly annoyed, "are you used to chicks who'll give you a quick feel and then pull your hand out of their clothes?"
Johnny obviously had never encountered a woman who knew what she was doing.
He'd simply stepped all over himself each time he tried to respond to anything he said.
Patsy finally gave up with the conversational approach and decided to take a more basic, tactile approach.
She quickly unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, and threw it aside. Her breasts, nicely developed for a girl her age, swung gently back and forth.
Johnny's lower jaw hit the floor.
"Johnny, you look retarded. Look, will you say something that proves you're still alive? Come on, give a girl a break. I'm doing everything I can short of raping you, and you're just staring like you were made out of papier-mƒch‚ or something. What gives?"
He shook his head.
It seemed to wake him up somewhat, because he was actually able to speak to her again, but she was still confused.
"Urn ... " he began, not too promisingly, "Look, no offense or anything, but I'm not used to this sort of thing...."
"Well that's obvious. like I said, you're probably a virgin, right? Look it's all right. Just because you're the captain of the football team and you've probably been telling everyone on the team that you're getting it from Mary Ellen Rogers, don't let that get you down. Believe me, it's no sin not to get it from Mary Ellen Rogers. No one really thinks she has a cunt anyway. Now take it from me, I don't know what ideas you have about sex, but I can promise you, they're all wrong. The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to see you having any kind of correct idea about sex. That's all right. You've been practicing on a girl without a cunt. And, I might add, bazooms that don't come close to these."
Patsy gave her breasts a shake to make her point. She knew she was on safe ground here. Every girl in school knew that Mary Ellen Rogers, captain of the cheerleading squad, wore supporter bras to give her breasts a heftier cleavage.
Johnny said nothing to dispute her. That's when she knew she had him.
Of course, she still had to reel him in, and someone like Johnny would be prone to bolt unexpectedly ... no, she'd have to try to remember what it was like to really have to seduce a boy. It had been a long time. The crowd she ran with in LA didn't put a whole lot of ritual behind it. You felt like it, you fucked. It made life simpler.
She leaned forward, still kneeling. Her breasts came to just about eye-level on him. She began to wave her nipples in his face as she talked to him.
"I don't know what you're afraid of ... really I don't. I'm just a girl. You've probably heard all kinds of lies and falsehoods about me, but none of them are true. I'm just a normal healthy high-school youth, looking to get laid."
She let her nipples tickle his nose.
He shook his head, but she could see that she was getting to him. It was pretty hard to think of a girl as a slut when she was dangling the guy like a puppet from whatever strings she wanted to tie around him ... even around his cock, if she chose.
Patsy knew that's what his tactic would be, just to try and keep some kind of psychological edge ... he'd tell himself that she was a slut.
With someone like Mary Ellen Rogers, there was no need for an edge, because everyone had their roles worked out perfectly in advance.
There was never any question about who did what, why or when, because it was taken for granted. He kept trying, she kept turning him down. If they made it through high school like that, well then, maybe, just maybe, that summer before one or both of them went away to college ... well then ... maybe.
JESUS!! ! Did people still live like that? Multon was like going back in time twenty or thirty years. Before the sexual revolution, and the student revolution, and Vietnam and everything else made people aware that everything was a lie, and everyone was out to fuck you over, and that the only thing you could try to do was to fuck them back in whatever way you could before they really put your lights out.
That was the guiding philosophy of her life, and of everyone that she'd run with back in LA.
For all practical purposes, the battle had been fought and lost. The bad guys won, and Armaggedon was just around the corner. There was nothing left for anyone to do but to try and deface your own little plot of turf, in a pitiful gesture of defiance.
Johnny here, of course, didn't know any of this. He thought there was still a point.
Yeah, sure there was, right on top of his head. But, who was she to break the news to him. The poor bastard would find out about that soon enough anyway.
He task, was to get her hands inside his pants, get his hands inside her pants, and than get both pairs of pants off, without scaring him. Sort of like trying to sneak up on a herd of deer with a marching band.
But, there were those deliciously plump, rippling, wanton breasts of hers, and unless she was totally mistaken, they were actually beginning to have an effect on him.
Yep. Right down there between his legs, she could see the first prominent outlines of his cock starting to really press tightly against his polyester double-knit slacks that he'd worn over (GOD, what was he thinking?)
Oh, that's right. He'd been thinking that he'd have a chance to impress Suzie, her sister.
Fat chance. Suzie had never dyed her hair, and she DID like the Beatles and did NOT like Slutboy Slime, but she was more of a radical than Patsy was. She was ready to blow the whole fucking place apart, purely as a matter of principle, you understand.
She thought that people like Johnny would be the first ones against the wall when the revolution came.
"Suzie," Patsy would explain, "the revolution already happened. They lost., You and I are the debris."
But Suzie wouldn't listen. Once, they'd been identical twins. Suzie still wore the long golden locks that Patsy had long ago turned into a fractured rainbow.
Johnny was on the verge of giving up. Good thing, thought Patsy, because she was actually starting to work up a little bit of a sweat between her legs over the bastard. After all, he was a guy, and he did have a cock, and if you were horny, and a girl, and you weren't too particular, well, that meant that Johnny met all the specifications.
She decided to take matters into her own hands.
First, she took each of his hands and placed them over her breasts. Just in case he hadn't been sure what to do with them.
Then, she unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock.
And ... hey, hey, hey, she thought merrily to herself, what have we here.
Well, what it was, was a fucking salami roll, that's what it was. Uncut, and hard as a rock.
Ummmmmm, she thought. Won't that feel nice tucked away up between my cunt ... oh my GOD!! !
She couldn't believe it.
But there it was, undeniable proof. She looked into Johnny's face as if to confirm it.
Consider it confirmed, kid, she thought.
She watched as a very heavy load of thick white jism started to ooze down the sides of his already wilting cock, going soft and there was still some of his spunk left inside.
Now there was a case of premature ejaculation that would not be beat!
He looked properly humiliated, as well he should, the dumb bastard!
"That's ... um ... a pretty serious case there, you know that?"
He didn't say anything.
She realized that he was really hurting. Uncharacteristic as it seemed to-be for her, she actually felt sorry for him.
She looked down at his cock, now around three sizes smaller, and she lowered her body so that her breasts were rubbing through his jism.
That seemed to shock the ever-loving fuck out of him.
And, if she wasn't mistaken, it also seemed to produce something of a reaction in his cock.
Nothing of Olympian proportions, understand, but it stopped shrinking, at least.
Then, she lowered herself the rest of the way, locked her lips around the pitiful little worm-like thing and sucked him clean.
He'd shot a hell of a load.
Then, when she thought about it, she realized that things were not so out of shape as they'd seemed. The boy was a first-timer! He'd probably never felt anyone's fingers wrapping around it besides his own in his entire life! She had no doubt that Mary Ellen Rogers never went near it. And if she had, the reaction she'd just witnessed would have cured the cheerleader of ever contemplating it again.
She kept her lips around it, and felt Johnny's body getting tense and rigid.
She looked up at him.
"Hey, big boy, you really need to relax. You hear?" He nodded.
She nodded with him. "Uh-huh. Why do I keep getting the idea that you're made of stainless steel. Now come on, let's get a little organic, shall we. This is a human body we're talking about. You know, soft, pliant...."
She knelt in front of him.
"You're scared shitless, aren't you?"
He finally responded, with a faint nod of his head. That was all it took to make Patsy feel like she'd been a real nasty bitch, and her appearance and demeanor notwithstanding, she did not want to be thought of as a real nasty bitch. Not really.
She softened. "What is it, the hair? That what's got you confused and bothered? Don't let it get to you. It washes right out."
"No ... it's not that ... " he started, but she cut him off by laughing gently.
"Hey, look I know what's got you scared, and it's all right. I mean, don't worry, okay. This is not as hard as you're making it out to be. What's hard is trying to act like you know what you're doing when you don't. Then, this sort of thing happens. It also happens when you aren't used to girls unzipping your pants and pulling your cock out. You follow?"
He once again nodded. She nodded with him. "Uh huh. I see you're a man of few words, but you're great on the neck action. All right...."
She lowered her head and proceeded to show him a little neck action herself.
His cock was now completely soft, but it was still drooling a stream of clear liquid.
She began to lick along the head, gently, to make the stimulation sweet and effective.
"Now," she said, pausing a moment, "you don't have to worry about shooting fast this time, because you've already gotten rid of the back-up. And judging by the looks of it, that was about fifteen years' worth. No, just fooling, honest. I'll bet you beat off just this morning. No, hey, I'm just kidding, don't look so indignant."
Then she thought a moment. "I'd best not talk with my mouth full. And I'd best keep it full, how's that sound?"
He nodded again, still looking scared.
Well, scared was better than that phony bravado that he'd carried in with him. Maybe if she dug deep enough, she'd find a real human being.