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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1243753
A tale of teenage honor, however odd.
I sat in the equipment closet with a girl four years my junior sitting on my lap.  The director was gone for now and we had a good two solid hours before anyone would show up again.  The doors locked from the inside.  I consider myself a moral man, but when her tongue passed into my mouth moral became a very relative term.  Her hair was just long enough to barely brush her shoulders when she sat upright and her round face had pouty lips and soft eyes.  Pouty lips demand kissing.  I never stopped and thought about what was going on.  Being a seventeen year old male has it's benefits.  Her shirt came off relatively quickly and the dexterity built into my fingers from spinning tenor mallets had me quite the proficient snap-undoer.  Her bra laid on the floor next to us as she straddled me in a practice chair, her large breasts brushing against my face.  Remarkably well developed for a girl her age.  We embraced again and she slid off the chair and sat at my feet looking up at me and I already knew what she was going to say.  She asked if I remembered what she said she was going to give me for my birthday and I responded yes.  I remembered perfectly.  She slowly reached up for my zipper and I saw her fragile hand in the florescent light bouncing off baritones and sousaphones and suddenly I remembered a conversation I had had with her naught three months passed. She asked about blowjobs.  Not even the fact that I was a seventeen year old boy who had been pent up in an unhappy relationship for some time could stop me from doing what I did next.  My hormones cried.  Stop, I told her, we can't do this, and with that I got up and handed her bra back.  She cried.  Although it probably broke her heart I hope to this very day that when she looks back on the situation she sees me in a favorable light. Standing there amongst the shining armor of instruments I hoped to become some sort of knight, flawed yes, but teaching her that she didn't have to use her body to make people like her.  I still think of her sometimes.  She is doing well to this day from what I've heard her grades are good and she takes care of herself.  I'd like to think I had a small part in that.
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