Emboldened by her first tentative move, she did it again, letting her tongue slide completely between my lips. I touched the tip of it with my own and our taste buds connected. At the touch she trembled in my arms, compelling me to pull her tighter. She pulled her tongue back again and then slid it in a little deeper, seeking and meeting mine, allowing them to swirl together for an instant. I gave her tongue a little suck with my mouth and she hummed against me, driving it further into my mouth.
We broke apart for a second and looked into each other's eyes. I saw wanting in hers, excitement, the excitement of new discovery.
"I always thought it would be gross." She said softly, her breath tickling the wetness of my lips.
"Gross?" I asked, leaning in and kissing her lightly, dabbing at her lip with my tongue, before withdrawing.
"Yes." She nodded. "French kissing. I always thought it would be gross. Touching someone else's tongue with yours. But it's not."
"I guess it depends on who the someone is." I said.
She leaned forward again. "Maybe that's it."
We resumed our kiss, letting our tongues glide together, holding each other tightly. Her hands came up to the back of my neck and began caressing me there, lightly rubbing with the fingertips, lightly scratching with the fingernails. The sensation sent chills down my spine and I felt myself becoming erect with frightening speed. I let my own hands drop down to her lower back, my fingers feeling the muscle and skin, the softness that existed beneath the material of her sweater.
We continued to do this for more than ten minutes, our tongues probing each other's mouths, our hands caressing. Nina seemed to relish it, to draw strength from it. She quickly learned what I liked and what I did not like and adapted her technique. She learned not to cram her tongue down my throat but to teasingly swirl the tip, gradually increasing the depth. I sucked gently on her lips for a moment, making them swell and then she did the same to mine.
My dick, which had been releived by nothing but my own hand since my afternoon with Cindy and Maggie, was straining in my jeans, begging to be released. It was accustomed to playing a more active role in the festivities once things reached this point. It ached to be ground into her body, to have her hand upon it. But this was not Cindy or Maggie, this was not Debbie or Steph or Anita or any of the other girls I'd bedded. This was Nina, who I loved and who I was not going to push anything upon. My pants would be kept firmly buttoned, at least until after she'd left.
When we finally broke apart a few minutes later I could feel the dull ache of blue balls in my groin. Nina looked up at me, her face still flushed, her eyes shining.
"Wow." She commented, straightening herself on the couch.
I nodded, trying to adjust myself in my pants by shifting my body back and forth. It was a poor job at best.
"So that was 'making out', right?" She asked me.
I chuckled. "Yes." I told her. "That was making out."
"Mmmm." She said clinically. "I can see why people like to do it."
"Yes." I nodded. "It is rather enjoyable, isn't it?"
"And now that we're, uh, together, we can do that whenever we want to?"
"We should probably wait until we're alone," I said. "But yes. Anytime."
She smiled. "Having a boyfriend is pretty cool." She said.
Nina left early the next morning to visit some relatives in Idaho with her parents. I would not see her for the next three days. When she returned we were only able to get together for a few hours on two different days. On one of those days we found the time and the privacy to 'make out' for a while but it did not match the passion of that first time. Not that it was disappointing you understand.
We made plans to get together on New Year's Eve, to see in the beginning of 1984 together. Tracy would be going to a party with some friends (and borrowing my car to do it so she wouldn't risk riding with a drunk driver) and my parents would be at a New Year's Eve party of their own. I had a twelve pack of beer that Tracy had scored for me and a joint of some good greenbud that Mike had scored for me. We planned to sit and watch all of the stupid shows that were on, smoke grass, drink beer, and maybe make out a little. Though it may sound unimaginably dull to some, I was looking forward to it greatly.
About six o'clock that evening, as Tracy and my parents were frantically scrambling around the house trying to get ready to go, Nina called me.
"Bill," She told me sadly, getting right to the point. "I can't come over tonight."
"You can't?" I asked, disappointed, feeling almost betrayed in fact.
"I'm sorry." She said. "My parents told me I couldn't go out tonight. They were very firm about it too." She sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into them. They've never treated me like this before. Never!"
I was silent for a moment. I knew what was happening and I had known that it was coming eventually. As I said before, you simply cannot hide your activities from those that you lived with. Especially not when you had been in the habit of staying home all of the time and then you suddenly developed the urge to go out for hours at a time every day. I'd tried to bring this up to her on a few occasions but her reaction each time quickly taught me that it was a taboo subject. I knew I was simply going to have to wait until the subject came to a head. Well now it seemed as if that had happened.
"Nina." I told her. "Did your parents ask you where you wanted to go tonight before they said no?"
"Yes." She told me.
"And what did you tell them?"
"That some friends from school were having a party that I wanted to go to. I told them I wouldn't drink and everything and they still said no. No matter how much I…"
"Nina." I interrupted.
"What?"
"They know about us." I told her.
There was silence on the line for a moment. Finally, "No Bill, they can't. How could they know? I never tell them where I'm REALLY going when I come over to your house."
"Do you think your parents are stupid Nina?" I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle, but wanting to get this point across.
"No!" She said sharply, "But I don't see how…"
"Think about it." I told her. "You're a shy girl all of your life until you meet me. Suddenly you start going out and doing thing all of the time. They like me at first so they allow it. But then we have a falling out because of, well, you know. Anyway, you stop seeing me and go back to staying in the house all of the time. They tell you that you are never to see me again. For a while you don't. And then all of a sudden you start having things to do once more. You want to borrow their car all the time so you can go visit someone. No matter what you are telling them when you come over here, I doubt if they bought it more than twice. They have common sense Nina. They know about us."
"They DO NOT!" She yelled angrily. "They're just afraid of me being out on a night when everyone's drinking. I was careful Bill. They don't know about us and they won't find out!"
"Nina…"
"I'm sorry I can't come over." She said shortly. "If you'd like me too, I'll try and come over tomorrow."
"Of course I do Nina," I said. "But you're going to have to face…"
"There's nothing to face!" She insisted. "Do you want me to come over tomorrow or not?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "Yes Nina," I said, more gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll give you a call." She said. A second later the phone clicked in my ear. Before I'd even had a chance to tell her I loved her.
And so it came to pass that I spent New Year's Eve alone in my parent's house. The beer did not get drank, the pot did not get smoked. I went to bed around ten o'clock. I was too miserable to even masturbate.
When I woke up the next morning I was not surprised to find my parent's car missing from the garage. It was a New Year's eve tradition with them. They would get totally trashed at the school faculty party and take a cab home. The next morning they would not get out of bed until at least noon, at which point they would spend the rest of the afternoon bitching about their hangovers and swearing they were never going to drink again. In the early evening they would pile into Mom's car and drive to wherever Dad's car had been left the night before to retrieve it. Let me tell you, anyone who thinks of teachers as stoic, sober, square people never grew up with one in the house. In my experience Dad was more the rule than the exception. He was by no means an alcoholic but he sure liked to party on special occasions.