In 1977, a 14-year-old’s first date is with Emmaline Paquette, a classmate who has a surprising sexual history with both her stepbrother and her stepfather.
Part One
My name is Jerry Wilding. I was born in 1963 about eight weeks before President Kennedy was shot in Dallas. (I mention that only because when young people these days ask me where I was on that fateful day, I like to reply, “I was in my mother’s womb.”)
I grew up in a town whose population was not quite 10,000. It was just large enough to have a local elementary school. It had a wide range of pupils from kindergarten to the eighth grade. There were enough enrollees my age to have a class of 27. With rare exceptions, the bunch of us stayed together for nine years as we advanced from one grade to the next. Remarkably, all 14 females in my class were undeniably attractive girls. Not only weren’t there any ugly ones, there were no plain-Jane types, either. Of course, I didn’t notice that fact for the first couple years of my school career, but by the fifth grade I was scanning the field. I quite liked what I saw.
I was very much the shy academic type. I went to school without complaint, stayed out of trouble, did all my assignments without making any fuss about them. I almost always got As in everything but art (where I had zero talent). I never created any waves. Therefore, I was more popular with my teachers than with my peers. That was especially the case with girls. Entering the eighth grade, I had never had a girlfriend—not a single one. I was determined to change that statistic before I entered high school.
I decided to choose a potential girlfriend from among my classmates in a logical manner. I figured the five best looking candidates were simply out of my league and would reject any romantic advances of mine in a split second. Therefore, I made a serious study of the other ten. After giving each of those girls the proper consideration, I decided to ask Emmaline Paquette for a date. As far as I knew, she was unattached. She was a pleasant girl who got mostly Bs and Cs in school. Slightly small in stature, Emmaline had a pretty face, a head of curly hair that was nearly blonde, and a figure that was slightly better than average for a girl her age. I may have talked to Emmaline three times in all the years we had been in the same class. Of course, that would have been the case with any of the 15 girls I saw every weekday. I was not exactly a social butterfly.
After making that decision, I mustered enough courage to speak with Emmaline as soon as our morning class ended and everyone headed to the school’s lunchroom for a midday meal. I tapped her on the shoulder and nervously said, “Emmaline, I know this is totally coming out of the blue, but I’m quite fond of you. May I take you on a date sometime?”
To my complete astonishment, Emmaline agreed without the slightest bit of hesitation.
“That’s great!” I said as my anxiety completely faded away. “Perhaps we can have lunch together right now so we can talk about where I can take you on our date.” Emmaline agreed to that, too. She also insisted that I call her “Emmy”—just like all her other friends did. Things were moving along splendidly!
During lunch I discovered that Emmaline was quite a good conversationalist who possessed a wry sense of humor. Toward the end of the period, after we had jointly decided to go to Johnson’s Old-Tyme Ice Cream Parlor, a popular dessert venue, on Saturday afternoon, Emmy made a confession to me. “Do you want to know something, Jerry? I’ve liked you from afar since the first day we were in kindergarten, but I’ve always been afraid to talk to you. You are way smarter than I am and that intimidates me. I was so glad you asked me on a date. I’m actually quite thrilled by it all.” We were sitting across a lunchroom from each other, but she leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss! “That’s my way of saying thanks,” she explained.
“Thank you for agreeing to go on a date with me, Emmy!” I returned the favor by leaning across the table to kiss her. Seconds later I said, “I have something to confess, too. I’m intimidated by all the girls in our class. They’re all very pretty—and that scares the heck out of me. Emmy, I was worried that you’d reject me.”
Emmy laughed and replied, “Jerry, there’s no need to feel intimidated by any girl at this school! Everyone likes you. You’re just a nice, sweet guy who mostly minds his own business. There’s nothing to dislike about you.”
“Well, I’m liking you more and more every minute, Emmy,” I told her sincerely. “I can hardly wait for Saturday.”
Part Two
The plan we agreed upon for Saturday was for me to walk the seven blocks from my house to Emmy’s home, with me arriving at about 2 p.m. Then together we’d walk another three blocks to where the ice cream parlor was located. The sky was slightly overcast that day. I prayed the rain, if it came, would hold off until the evening. I arrived at 1:55 p.m., early enough to show that I was eager to begin our date, but not too early that Emmy would feel rushed. I expected to be grilled about my intentions by at least one of her parents, but Emmy explained that she was the only one at home. I was somewhat relieved. Emmy affectionately took me by the hand. We casually strolled to our destination, chatting pleasantly for the entire distance.
As it was early September, the afternoon wasn’t especially warm, so Johnson’s Ice Cream Parlor was nowhere as busy as it would have been in July or August. Famous for its homemade ice cream and wide variety of sundae toppings, it often drew out-of-towners who often tested its seating capacity. That wasn’t the case today. We easily found a table for two. I told Emmy she could have anything she wanted. We both ended up ordering banana splits, a specialty of the establishment. We took our time eating them. We chatted amiably about school, our teacher, and just about all of our classmates. I laughed when Emmy conceded that Vanessa Anderson was the best-looking girl in grade eight. “Yeah,” I agreed. “When I decided I was due to have a girlfriend, she was the first girl on the class list that I eliminated. She’s way out of my league.”
“You need to stop saying things like that, Jerry!” Emmy insisted. “No girl in our school is out of your league. You are a super nice guy. Anyway, I’m grateful that you asked me on a date instead of asking Vanessa. I’m starting to become very fond of you in a hurry.”
“Likewise!” I insisted. “Emmy, may I kiss you right now?”
“I don’t see why not,” she answered. “I don’t think it’s against the rules of the ice cream parlor.” This time we both leaned forward for a long smooch. This was a terrific first date!
When we walked home, the sky began to turn considerably darker. We were about three blocks from Emmy’s house when the first raindrops began to smack onto the sidewalk. We had no umbrella. To stay dry, we increased our gait until we were almost jogging. When we got to Emmy’s porch, we were both panting. Instinctively we embraced and enjoyed another long kiss. I was worried that I would be confronted by one or both of Emmy’s parents, but then I noticed there was no car in the driveway. I correctly assumed that meant the house was empty.
“Let’s go inside and get dry,” Emmy insisted. “We can listen to some of my records. I have a fairly large collection of albums and 45s.” I quickly accepted her invitation.
Emmy changed her clothes completely—and then brought out a blow dryer to dry my shirt. She insisted that I remove it, which I did. I was tempted to tell Emmy that my trousers were just as rain-soaked as my shirt, but I didn’t want to risk offending her.
“Oh, you have hair on your chest,” Emmy observed. “I think that is very manly.” I thanked her for the compliment and said my hirsute torso was a family trait. She wasn’t familiar with the word “hirsute” so I told her it was a synonym for the word “hairy”. Then I had to remind her what a synonym was. She commented, “I wish I had the school smarts that you do, Jerry. I think you’ll go far in life.”
Emmy did have an excellent record collection. It contained most of the Top 40 singles from the past three years. “I’ve been collecting records since I was 11 years old. I got a record player for Christmas that year, so naturally I started buying records for it.” I mentioned a few songs that I liked. Without fail, she had every one of them on a 45-r.p.m. record. I was impressed. She insisted we listen to half a dozen of my favorites.
“Emmy, I think you have enough records here to work as a deejay,” I seriously suggested.
“Can you imagine the difficulty I’d have carrying all these records from place to place if I had a deejay job?” she asked. I told her I hadn’t considered that problem. I then said she should pick a record for us to listen to.
“I know the perfect one!” she announced. It was a song that was currently doing well in the national Top 40. It was “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meatloaf. It was well known as a slow dance song—and that’s exactly what Emma wanted to do. I was more than happy to oblige.
I was still shirtless when Emmy cleared some space for us to dance. We didn’t move too much during the song. We basically swayed to the music and pawed each other. In other words, it was wonderful.
I could feel myself getting aroused. I figured Emmy could feel what was happening to me, too. As soon as the song ended, I said it was probably best If I left now. I thanked Emmy for being a lovely companion and I told her I hoped to take her out again sometime soon.
Emmy looked at me as If I were out of my mind. Then she said something unforgettable: “Aren’t we going to have sex, Jerry? That’s what I was hoping for and wanting! Can we have sex, please?”
I quickly changed my plans about rushing out of the Paquette household.
Part Three
I wanted to make sure I hadn’t imagined what I had so clearly heard. “Did I hear you right, Emmy? You are asking me for sex?
“Yes!” Emmy responded while nodding her head rapidly. “I like having sex. It’s great fun. I do it all the time.”
“You do? Whom do you have sex with, Emmy?” I immediately regretted asking such a personal question, but my curiosity got the better of me. Then I heard Emmy’s startling answer.
“My stepbrother screws me all the time,” she said without any guilt. “So does my stepdad. They’ve been doing it with me for years. Sometimes both of them are in my bed with me at the same time.”
I fell into a nearby chair flabbergasted. I hardly knew what to say, so I basically repeated what Emmy had just told me. “You have sex with both your stepbrother and stepfather? You admit this and you’re okay with it?”
Emmy began her explanation. “Yeah, my mother was widowed when I was about five. My biological father was killed in an auto accident by a drunk driver one night when he was coming home from work. When I was ten, Mom remarried and we both took her new husband’s last name—Paquette. Jerry, don’t you remember that my last name used to be Romano?”
Actually, I had forgotten that bit of trivia, but I now remembered that Emmy was previously “Emmaline Romano” on our class list at one time in her life. I nodded to indicate that I did recall her former surname.
“Anyway, I was an only child,” Emmy continued. “Shortly after my mom got remarried, Barry—he’s my stepbrother and four years older than I am—began getting into bed with me. I didn’t object because I’d never had a sibling before. I just thought it was what brothers and sisters normally did. He introduced me to fucking—and I liked it. Actually, I liked it a lot! Not long afterward, my stepdad started taking turns in my bed with me. He has a very big dick, so he really pleased my vagina. My mom didn’t seem to care because sometimes she’d sleep with Barry—or both Barry and my stepdad. Sometimes Barry and my stepdad do a threesome with me. We all get along just fine, Jerry. Having sex is part of our lives together as a family. I always take the proper precaution to avoid pregnancy. So do you want to have sex with me, Jerry? I really hope your answer is yes, because I really like you. Today’s trip to the ice cream parlor was fun. You deserve a good fuck from me.”
I suppose I had every right to be speechless, but Emmy’s revelation had surprisingly made me extremely horny! I quickly said, “You’ve convinced me, Emmy! Yeah, let’s fuck!”
Part Four
The couch we had been sitting on converted to a pull-out bed. Emmy made the switch in about ten seconds flat.
I was already without a shirt, so I was able to disrobe in record time. Emmy’s family history had resulted in my having a superb erection. Instead of my being repulsed by the sordid tale, it had the opposite effect: It had turned me on completely! I couldn’t wait to ride this girl. She was a sexually experienced eighth-grade libertine who seemed to adore me. What a great combination that was!
Since Emmy was not the delicate virginal flower I had imagined she was a few hours earlier, I became assertive with her. I undressed her—which she quite enjoyed, stopping to pause a few times along the way to squeeze her firm breasts and finger her vagina before we even got into bed together. Once there, Emmy began tugging on my penis for her own amusement. “It’s at least as big as Barry’s dick!” she merrily told me. That was an ego-boosting statement for me because Barry would now have to be 18 years old if he was four years older than Emmy. While she stimulated my rod with her hands, I enjoyed Emmy’s lovely breasts. Once they were aroused, she had tremendous nipples that every red-blooded male would be delighted to have in his mouth. I sucked on them for a good five minutes. Before proceeding to more intimate things, I insisted on giving Emmy a very romantic kiss that we both enjoyed. By this point my dick was standing at full attention. It was as hard as a steel girder.
I went back to Emmy’s alluring tits, but I did place my wandering right hand atop Emmy’s vagina. It was a hairless masterpiece—and it was a beauty! Based on what I now knew, I assumed she shaved it regularly for the benefit of two particular family members. I found her opening and placed my index finger inside her and began to pleasure Emmy by thrusting it in and out of her. Then I added a middle finger and did the same. She was becoming noticeably wet. The more rapid my finger penetrations were, the wetter it got and the more Emmy seemed to like what I was doing to her. “I just have to shove my hard dick in there, Emmy!”
“Who’s stopping you?” she asked rhetorically. “Fuck away, Jerry!”
I mounted her. She had the honor of being the first girl I’d ever screwed—and I wanted it to be a memorable experience for both of us. My first penetration of Emmy’s pussy was slow and deliberate. Then I picked up the pace until I was fucking her like a madman. I felt great; it was a supremely masculine moment for me. Just a few months ago I’d often wondered if I’d ever have a female bedmate. Now I had a superb first one.
“May I come inside your vagina, Emmy?” I asked her politely.
“You can do that if you want, Jerry,” Emmy said, “but I like it better when Barry comes on my tits. That’s his preference. My stepdad always comes on my face or in my mouth. I like that, too!”
Now I was confused about where I’d unload my load. But I didn’t have long to consider it. A familiar stirring in my groin, easily recognizable from years of masturbation, told me an ejaculation was imminent. With just seconds to spare, I pulled my dick out of Emmy’s pussy, aimed it in the general direction of her sexy breasts, and let loose with a world-class cum shot. (At least I ranked it that highly!) Semen splattered across my classmate’s body, with some of it even flying far enough to strike her left cheek. Pools and stringy white ropes of jism covered Emmy’s body. “Ah! What a great feeling!” I announced. “This has to be the best sensation in the world. Thank you, Emmy. That was truly wonderful!”
“I should be thanking you, Jerry,” Emmy insisted. Never tell Barry this, but yours was a better fuck than he usually gives me—and his fucks are marvelous!”
“How did I compare to your stepdad?” I bravely asked—and immediately regretted doing so.
“He’s in a league by himself,” Emmy insisted. It was a slight putdown, but as a sexual newcomer I somewhat expected that. I was sure I’d have many more opportunities with Emmy as a bedmate to improve on whatever screwing techniques of mine needed to be improved. But for the moment, I was giddy with success.
We both cleaned ourselves up in the washroom and then listened to more records for another 45 minutes or so. I was about to leave the premises for a second time, when I saw the Paquettes’ car enter their driveway. After what had just happened, I was more nervous than ever about meeting Emmy’s parents, but there was no avoiding it.
When they—Barry and Mr. and Mrs. Paquette—entered their house, Emmy quickly introduced me as her new boyfriend and stressed how much she loved me. She said we’d had a lovely afternoon eating banana splits at Johnson’s Ice Cream Parlor and listening to records. Mr. Paquette had a skeptical look on his face. I could tell he knew that Emmy had left something out of our itinerary.
“Banana splits and records, huh?” he said to me. “Did you give Emmy a good screwing, too? She was blessed with a fantastic pussy, just like her mom. I love sliding my dick deep inside her and giving Emmy a good fucking—and so does Barry. It would have been a shame for you not to have sampled it, Jerry.”
I quickly fessed up to my horny, horizontal exploits with his stepdaughter. “Yeah, I admit it. We did some fucking, too. It was fantastic! I’ve never had such a huge orgasm before today. You’re right, sir. Emmy has a perfect pussy that is just begging to be fucked. I hope you and Barry don’t mind sharing her charms with me occasionally. I’m quite fond of this girl—especially when we’re sharing a bed.”
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