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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This story
is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as there
is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of acquiring
this material.

(Copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)

Don't be shy! I appreciate getting comments from readers, so
drop me a line when you've finished the story.
[email protected]
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HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 1 -

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Our anniversary was
coming up in a few weeks, and I had found a great deal on a vacation to
Bermuda that I knew my wife would really love.

You see, six years ago, for her high school graduation, her parents
gave her a trip to Bermuda. She traveled with three of herhigh-school
buddies, and it was one of the highlights of her life, she says.
Now, for our second anniversary, I was going to surprise her with
another trip to her dream destination, a place she calls the most
romantic place on earth.

It's a lot easier, according to some of our friends who have already
started having their children, to just pick up and go when you aren't
tied down with familial obligations. I guess that's true, because the
deals I see for people who can travel on short notice to vacation spots
are very good, indeed. And this deal was better than even those,
provided we leave in two days.

Naturally, I couldn't reach her by telephone, so I left work early to
try to catch her before she got too busy. She usually got home from
work around 4:00, relaxed for awhile until she knew that I would be on
my way home, then start to make dinner for the two of us. We would
eat around 6:00, and she would run out the door right after dinner,
leaving me to clean up the dishes. She's studying at night to be a
chef, so our dinners tended to be on the elaborate side. My wife
loves to cook, and she considers it her sacred duty to make sure
that everything she prepares is done just right. The result? I've
gained 10 pounds since our marriage. My work is sedentary, shuffling
paper at a big insurance company, and I try to exercise when I can,
but my battle of the bulge is a difficult one. I still tend to eat
like I'm still playing football, as I did in high school, and our
large dinners and changed lifestyle have conspired to change my
profile. I do try to work it off a few times a week doing horizontal
aerobic exercises, if you know what I mean, and my little sweetheart
is always very cooperative, and even enthusiastic. And I'll tell
you, her efforts in the sack must give her an even greater workout,
since she's exactly the same size now that she was when she was
leading the cheers for good old North High.

It was her cheerleading, actually, that first made me notice her.
I loved seeing her in those tight letter sweaters and short skirts,
shaking and jumping all over the football field.

I was a junior playing on the football team, and I loved watching all
the cheerleaders. I had a lot of trouble concentrating on the game
when I got to watching their backsides on the sidelines. Every time
one of them would jump up in the air, I would catch a glimpse of
white ruffled panties. Drove me crazy, they did. Of course, all
the cheerleaders were gorgeous and athletic, and a common conversation
among my fellow players when we were at practice or on the bench
during a game was to rank the cheerleaders (and all other good-looking
girls at school, of course) in the order in which we would like to bop
them. All during the season we would revise our lists, taking into
account changing tastes, how a particular girl dressed on that
particular day, or whatever rumor about a girl's reputation might be
running through the school. We based our rankings on such things as
"boob-alicious-ness", how a girl used a straw or ate a banana, how
easy we thought she might be, if we thought a girl might be a screamer
or a moaner, her reputation in the school at large as well as in the
locker room, or any of a dozen other crude evaluation criteria. Over
the course of the football season my list changed according to my
mood: sometimes it was Lisa, a varsity cheerleader who was a junior
and arguably the hottest girl in the school, who was at the top of my
list; sometimes it was Micki, a petite freshman with big, pouting
lips who, it was rumored, was trying to earn her way onto the varsity
cheerleading squad by bedding any member of any varsity sports team
in school; sometimes it was Nicole, a senior who was on the yearbook
staff and had been a member of the student council since her freshman
year who, according to my buddies in the locker room, gave her dates
exquisite hand jobs on the third date - and no more, ever; but always,
among the top 3 on my list, was Melissa, a sophomore cheerleader. No
"bad girl" rumors ever surrounded her, no innuendoes about her sexual
prowess (or lack thereof), nothing but a general admiration for her
All-American good looks and her quiet pursuit of excellence in all
she attempted.

So there we all were, week after week, struggling through a mediocre
season on the football field, celebrating wins and consoling ourselves
on our losses in the same manner by converging as a group at
Fabrice's, a local pizza parlor that catered to the high school crowd.

So there is where we all went after the game. We would all be hanging
out at the local pizza joint, the team and its hangers-on around one
group of tables, the cheerleading squads around another, and a whole
bunch of other students who had gone to the game all around us. And
there Melissa would be, sitting with her friends, always nearby,
always out of reach. She had to have known that I was attracted to
her. All my friends on the team knew she was always high up on my
list, and they would certainly never let a teasing opportunity go by
without taking as much advantage as I would let them take. And she
would always play it coy with me. Looking at our table out of the
corner of her baby-blue eyes, swishing her long blonde hair off her
shoulder, crossing and uncrossing her long legs, leaning back and
laughing at some clever thing one of her girlfriends said and pressing
her sweater tight against her boobs, all the time knowing that my
friends and I were over there drooling over the vision of all that
lovely cheerleader poontang sitting there, not being used properly
(in our sophisticated opinions anyway), and hoping that, eventually,
Fortune would smile down on us and grant us a precious evening alone
with the girl of our choice.

Okay, I admit it, we were young and foolish. And stupid. But
Fortune did indeed smile upon me one glorious fall evening that year.

HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 2 -

The night before our homecoming football game, the school sponsored a
big bonfire out on the baseball field, and most of the kids from the
high school were there. The mood was effervescent, and my buddies
and I contributed to the manic energy by throwing huge logs into the
fire, laughing and showing off. Later, off in one of the dimmer
areas away from the giant fire, a bunch of seniors from the football
team were passing around a lot of cheap wine in grape drink bottles,
and most of the team was gathered around. Since the quarterback, a
senior, was hot and heavy with the head cheerleader, a lot of her
friends were there also, including Melissa. Mutual attraction
exerted its gravitational pull on both of us, and pretty soon we
were standing side by side, shivering and stamping our feet at the
cold, taking sips and gulps from the bottles as they were passed
around, joking and chatting with each other and with those around us.

By the time the wine had been by us four or five times, couples had
started pairing off into more private conversations. I had my arm
around Melissa's shoulder, ostensibly to provide a little warmth, and
our conversation got quieter and softer and more exclusive with the
mood around us. We were still just talking about easy stuff, about
teachers and coaches, dissing our friends, that kind of thing, but
there was an undertone we were both aware of, even if we weren't
actually acknowledging it. By evening's end we were holding hands
and laughing comfortably with each other like we had been doing this
for months. Later that night, back at Fabrice's after the bonfire,
our two groups had merged, and we were all sitting at a bunch of
tables moved together, still paired up and talking now as couples
instead of groups separated by gender. Brad, my best friend since
6th grade, gave me a thumbs-up when no one else was looking.

The next day was Homecoming. The cheerleaders were all marching
together in the parade, and the football team pretty much stayed
together and soaked up the cheers and good wishes from the town. It's
a great feeling to know that you are a part of all that good karma,
and my buddies and I really hammed it up. At the game we all wanted
to give back to the town and the school a team "thank-you" for their
enthusiasm, so we really played tough, and everyone on the team
concentrated on the game, so there wasn't the usual goofing off on
the bench that day. I did manage to glance over at the cheerleading
squad when I was not involved on the field, and a couple of times I
saw Missy watching me. It kind of gave me the chills to think that
she might like me as much as I liked her. But the important thing
at the time was that we played well, and we won the game.

A week later a bunch of us met at the local movie theater and paired
off again. I don't for the life of me remember what the movie was
because I was so nervous. By the time the opening credits had finished,
Missy and I were holding hands and paying more attention to each other's
body language than to the movie playing on the screen. By the end of
the second reel, our knees were touching, and I had my arm draped
around her shoulder. She leaned in closer to me, and stayed that way
until the end of the film. We were still feeling a little tentative,
however, which made us sit up a little straighter than we would have
otherwise. My arm started to tingle and fall asleep. but I was not
going to remove it, no matter how uncomfortable I got.

At the end of the movie, just before the house lights came up, I
painfully lifted my arm off her shoulder and started rubbing it, trying
to get some feeling back into it. Missy glanced at me out of the
corner of her eye, and started giggling. My first thought was What
the heck is she laughing at?, but I couldn't hold that thought for
more than a moment before I started chuckling, too. It was kind of
funny, I thought, to think that through most of a two-hour movie I
had no feeling at all in my arm, this arm that was closest to this
girl I was beginning to really like a lot.

We walked out of the movie holding hands, bundled up against the cold,
and joined our friends as we all piled into cars to go back to the
pizza joint. Missy and I jumped into my friend Brad's car with about
6 other kids, and she sat on my lap the whole way. I was not
comfortable at all, seeing as how I had about 110 pounds of
cheerleader sitting almost directly on a part of me that was
getting distressingly larger and stiffer by the second, but I
wouldn't have traded the moment for anything. Missy, meanwhile, kept
on wriggling around, trying to make room for the other kids also
wedged into the car, and incidentally increasing my discomfort. She
made no indication at all that she felt me rising beneath her, other
than glancing over her shoulder at me occasionally and smiling, but
she certainly had to have noticed it.

By the time we got to the pizza parlor, I was in no small amount of
pain, and had difficulty straightening up once we got out of the car.
Fortunately, my coat was sufficiently long to hide my erection, which
managed to spring up once Missy got off my lap. Standing by the car,
she asked if I was all right, all the time trying to hide a rather
large grin behind her solicitude. By the time I managed to stand up
straight she was already tugging me into the restaurant, laughing
and joking with everyone.

I imagine that nearly everybody remembers their first really good
kiss. My first really memorable kiss was with Missy later that night
on the ride home. Sure, I had been out with other girls before, and
had played suckface and grab-ass with a couple of them, but even at
the time I knew that they really didn't mean anything much to me.
But that night, back in Brad's car, it was just the four of us left.
Brad and his girlfriend Lindsey, me and Melissa. Brad and Lindsey
had definite plans for later, I was sure, and they were gracious in
agreeing to drop us off. On the way to Missy's house, the radio was
playing softly, and it was lightly snowing, making it seem like we
were the only people left in the world. Even with a center console
on his car, Lindsey was leaning on Brad's shoulder as he drove, and
Missy and I had our arms wrapped around each other in the back seat.
At least part of the reason we were so close was because of the cold,
but we both knew, also, that this night held something special for
us as a couple, that it kind of marked the beginning of our
relationship.

As we turned down Missy's street she turned to me, and her eyes were
soft and blue and wistful and irresistible. I leaned over her,
closed my eyes, and we softly kissed. And held that kiss for what
seemed like a year. Her lips were moving slightly against mine,
parted just a little, and her lipstick tasted of strawberries. After
we broke the kiss we gazed at each other, both slightly breathless,
both with nothing and everything to say, all of it left unsaid. We
came together again for another kiss, but this one had the strength
of a hunger behind it, and our embrace was tighter and more
demanding. She opened her mouth slightly and touched my lips with
her tongue, causing my internal temperature to flare. I reached
out just a little with my tongue, touching tips with hers, and
fireworks seemed to go off in my head. As Brad pulled into her
driveway we pulled reluctantly apart, breathing hard. Missy's face
was flushed, and she took a deep breath, and said, "Wow."

It's a moment that will live within me forever.

By the time I came out of my trance Brad was in front of my house
and anxious for me to get the hell out of his way so he and Lindsey
could head out to their favorite parking spot, so I said my good-byes
and headed into the house and up to my room. I was tempted to call
Melissa right away to try to make the magic of the night last a little
longer, but decided that I had better not call her house so late and
incur the wrath of her parents. After all, they were going to get to
know me very well quite soon, I was sure, as Melissa and I became
closer.

It was a very long time before I was able to go to sleep that night.

HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 3 -

And so it began. We started hanging out after our respective practices
ended, talking for as long as we could. Missy's mother would always
pick her up from cheerleading practice, and Brad was just as happy to
stick around and wait for me since that gave him and Lindsey more time
together, too. Missy told her mom that practice was being extended by
twenty minutes, a little white lie to buy a little extra time for us.
When she saw her mother's car pull into the school lot she would jump
up, give me a quick wave and a smile, and run down the drive so her
mother wouldn't see she was sitting around talking to a boy. The good
news about this routine is I really loved watching her run down the
drive. The bad news is that all the other football players who were
still around also were watching her appreciatively, which I didn't
particularly care for. Even Brad, as seriously in lust as he was with
Lindsey, took a moment out of whispering in her ear to watch Missy
run, for which he earned a killer look from Lindsey along with a slug
to his arm that I'm sure stung for quite awhile. And, to top it all
off, I had a feeling that Melissa's name was going to be added to a
few more lists the next time we got around to revising them.

Missy's parents were very conservative and wouldn't allow her to go
out on a date. Group activities were all right, however, so the next
Friday we arranged to meet, as usual, at Fabrice's after the football
game. Brad and I had concocted a scheme to take off right away from
the pizza parlor and head out to one of the public beaches with the
girls. We made sure we had some beer, some wine, and lots of blankets
in the car. Missy was nervous about leaving her friends at Fabrice's,
but I think she was as anxious as I was about having a little time
alone together, and that sentiment prevailed.

It was a clear, cold night. We brought along a large pizza and ate it
in the car at the beach, popping open the beer and wine at the same
time. The windows of the car were steaming up from the pizza and the
combined exhalations of the four of us, and we were all as happy as it
was possible to be at that age.

When the pizza was gone we all jumped out of the car, each with a
blanket or two, and we ran down toward the waterline. There were fire
pits built into the ground and we found enough sticks and wood to
build a small fire. The four of us dropped our blankets and ran down
to the lake, where Brad and I tried to teach Lindsey and Missy how to
skip stones on the water. Their efforts were pitiful, and we all
ended up falling on the frozen sand, laughing until our sides ached.
As we were lying there catching our breath, Missy just naturally
rolled against me, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and
pulled her closer.

We all got up and headed back to our meager fire. It had burned down
to mere embers, giving us a point of reference, instead of heat or
light. Brad and Lindsey wrapped themselves under two blankets on one
side of the pit, and Missy and I spread one blanket on the ground and
pulled two others over us, covering ourselves from our feet up over
our heads. Within this dark cocoon we were insulated from the cold
and from the rest of the world.

As we lay there we were facing each other. I had one arm around her
neck, hand resting on her shoulder. I unzipped her heavy coat and
slipped my other hand under her coat across her waist. Gazing into
my eyes, she slowly unzipped my coat and threaded her arms inside and
around me, then lifted up her face to me. She closed her eyes, and
without saying a word, kissed me tenderly on the lips. Her lips were
soft and creamy and again tasted faintly of strawberries. We separated
momentarily, remembering to breathe once again, then slipped into
another kiss. Her arms clenched, and heat suddenly poured into the
kiss as I felt her mouth open against mine and the tips of our tongues
met for only the second time. I felt more than heard her moan softly,
and I heard myself growl as sensations I had scarcely imagined began
coursing through my body. I couldn't seem to get her close enough to
me as my arms tightened. I felt her leg reach around mine as if she,
too, was trying to remove some distance between us. By this time our
tongues were wrestling with each other, first within her mouth, and
then inside mine. We were both breathing heavily, sharing the close
air underneath the blankets, and the air temperature around us
moderated with our exhalations and the release of our body heat.
My hand, already warmed, found its way under her sweater to the soft
skin beneath, and I pressed my palm against the small of her back,
luxuriating in the softness of her skin overlaying the hard muscles
just under the surface. In response, I felt one of her hands snake
under my sweatshirt and T-shirt, caressing up and down my back and
side. I ran my hand up the smooth length of her back until I felt
the tight band of her bra, and slipped under the strap between her
shoulder blades, and pressed her even more tightly to me. I twisted,
turning her under me so that she was on her back and I was over her,
still engaged in our kiss. My hand slipped back down her back, then
across her waist to her stomach, still under her sweater. She broke
the kiss, and I bent to kiss and suck on her neck and earlobe, creating
a purring sound from deep within her. She stretched her neck up,
giving me more to caress with my lips, and she brought one hand up to
the back of my head, fingers running through my hair as she pressed me
closer to her sensitive throat. Her leg was still running up and down
mine, her knee creating contact from my upper thigh to nearly my shin.
Her breathing was ragged as she pulled my face up to indulge in
another open-mouthed kiss. I thrust my tongue deeply into her mouth,
and felt her lips and teeth nibble along its length. At the same time
she sucked in, drawing breath from my lungs into hers. My hand
slipped up to her small breast, and I could feel her nipple poking
into my palm through her bra. As I gently squeezed, her breath
caught, and she pushed my tongue out of her mouth with hers and
roughly entwined it with hers.

I broke the kiss and we both gasped for breath. She pushed her chest
up, pressing her breast into my hand as her mouth opened in a silent
scream. I bent to taste the skin at her throat again as I slipped my
hand beneath the elastic edge of her bra and cupped her soft breast.
She moaned and ran her own hand down from my back to grab my ass and
pull me against her, her hips bumping against my erection almost of
their own accord. I moved my hand across her chest, pushing her bra
up over her small breasts, and caressed her other nipple and breast.
I reveled in the shape and texture of her flesh, marveling in the
sensation of finally, actually touching sensitive female parts for
the first time in my life.

I slid down from her throat and licked and kissed around the
circumference of her breast, massaging the other one at the same time.
I took her engorged nipple into my mouth and sucked on it, causing her
to groan and hold my head close to her. I opened my mouth wide and
tried to suck in as much of her breast as I could, until I felt her
nipple against the back of my tongue. I then licked my way over to
her other breast and tasted it the same way. She was moaning the
entire time, and was slowly shaking her head back and forth, lost in
the feelings being transmitted from her aroused body.

Emboldened, I slipped my hand back down her as I was feasting on her
breast until I reached her waist and the waistband of her tight jeans.
As my fingers tried to wiggle under the denim, she stiffened slightly
and, grabbing my wrist, said softly, "No, Ray. Please don't."

I acquiesced and brought my hand back up to play once more with her
turgid nipple. I scootched back up and kissed her eyelids, her
cheekbones, her earlobes, and finally planted soft kisses on her
lips. As our lips touched, she once again opened her mouth and
stretched her tongue in search of mine. I squeezed first one breast,
then the other, as our tongues battled, alternately pinching and
caressing each distended nipple in turn. Finally, almost as an
antidote to the intense heat we were generating for each other, our
mouths slid apart, leaving trails of moisture along each other's
cheeks, and our arms and hands left their caresses and moved to each
other's back, each of us pulling the other into a fierce hug.

"Oh, Ray," she whispered in my ear, "I'm afraid."

Surprised, I arched back and looked into her eyes. They were soft and
doelike in the darkness of our hideaway.

"Why are you afraid?" I asked her.

She pressed herself back against me, hugging me, and didn't answer for
what seemed like a long time.

"I'm afraid of my feelings for you," she said so softly I almost
couldn't hear.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I did
kiss her again, though, and it must have been the right answer, because
she kissed me back, hard.

Just at that moment we both heard a keening wail that started low and
quiet, and built up into a very loud, ululating cry. It seemed to come
from just on the other side of our fire pit. It caused us to sit up in
alarm and look over at the pile of blankets just beyond the embers.
All we could see was the pile jerking up and down, and then stopping
as the cry faded into the night. When we realized that the sound was
coming from Lindsey's throat, we looked at each other and began to
giggle and extricate ourselves from our own twisted covers. When the
blankets fell off us, the cold air hit us hard enough to take our
breath away as we struggled to rearrange our clothes and zip up our
coats. As we were getting up and folding our blankets, Brad and
Lindsey emerged from their shelter, clothing completely disheveled.
They saw us and stopped, apparently having forgotten that we had come
with them, then looked at each other sheepishly. They stood up,
blankets around them, and hustled off toward the woods, away from the
dim firelight, to put their clothes back on. They walked back toward
us in a few minutes, arm in arm, and we all started laughing again as
we packed up our gear into Brad's car.

As we climbed into the car, Brad started it up. We were waiting for
the car's interior to warm up, cuddled together two by two, when Brad
said, "Sorry about that, guys. We didn't realize we were making so
much noise."

This caused us to break up laughing again at the ridiculousness of
the situation, four voices raucous in the enjoyment of their youth.

"Just drive, Bucko", said Lindsey, giggling.

All the way back to Missy's house we were holding tightly onto each
other, alternately kissing with a renewed passion and gazing wordlessly
into each other's eyes, until all too soon we were pulling into her
driveway. Almost immediately her porch light came on, so she
reluctantly let go of me and slid over to the door. She leaned back
over and gave me one last scorching kiss, then opened the door, and
with a soft "Good night", left me cooling and suddenly lonely in the
back seat.

I stared into nothingness, thinking about Missy and the evening until
Brad dropped me off at my house.

HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 4 -

After our last home game the whole gang was invited to a party at
Brittany and Jared Felson's house. Brittany was a junior on the
cheerleading squad, and her brother was our star running back. Since
everyone was going to be at the game, we agreed that we would go to
Fabrice's for our usual post-game pizza, and then head over to the
Felson house. That would give Brit and Jared time to get home and
get things set up the way they wanted before everybody showed up.

At the pizza parlor, Melissa was nervous about her parents finding
out about the party, even though her curfew had been extended for
this evening. She ended up calling home from Fabrice's so that her
mother could hear all of us in the background. This way, according
to Melissa, her mom wouldn't think she was with just one boy, but
was safely enjoying herself in a large group.

We headed over to the party. Brad and Lindsey were only going to stay
for a little while, and then they were heading off to one of their
secret hideaways by themselves. They promised to be back at the party
in plenty of time to give Missy and I a ride home, as usual. We got
to the house as two more cars pulled up, and the whole large group of
us walked in and joined about 20 kids already at the party. We found
where the sodas and snacks were put out, and helped ourselves before
wandering off to find some of our friends. The radio was playing and
there were some kids dancing in the family room. We chatted and
goofed off with a bunch of people scattered throughout the family
room, kitchen and living room of the first floor, until somebody
mentioned that there were more kids in the finished basement. We
found the stairway and went down into a large room, lit only by one
light by the staircase and a few scattered candles. There was a
stereo playing softly, and we could see that this was a much quieter
crowd. There were a couple of groups of kids, but mostly this was
the "couples" area. Once our eyes adjusted, we could detect couples
scattered on the floor around the perimeter of the room, taking
advantage of the surroundings. We stopped to talk with some friends
by the couch for a little while, but it was plain to both of us that
we were drawn toward an empty dark corner.

Eventually we found our way over to the corner, taking our sodas with
us. We sat on the floor side by side and watched the dynamics of the
room for a little, occasionally commenting on some surprising pairings
that were being temporarily created by the tides and eddies of the
party. I slipped my arm around Missy, pulling her closer to me. She
rested her head on my shoulder, her hand resting casually on my knee.

"We're nearly alone again," I said softly to her. "Are you still
afraid?"

She turned to look up at me briefly, and then relaxed back against me.
"Not yet," she replied.

I cupped her chin in my hand and gently lifted her head up and leaned
down to give her a tender kiss. She reached up with her right hand
and tangled her fingers in my hair behind my ear as we kissed.

"But then, we're not exactly alone like we were last time," she said
with a smile.

"True," I agreed. "But I don't think anybody is paying any attention
to us anyway," I added.

She looked up at me seriously for a moment. "And a good thing, too,"
she said as she pulled me down for another kiss. We both slid to the
floor, facing each other. Missy was next to the wall and I had my
back to the room as we rolled into each other's arms. Our kisses
became sweeter and hotter and more demanding as the room, and its
other occupants, seemed to dwindle away from us.

Once again my hand found the bare skin of her lower back under her
sweater, a sensuous strip of nakedness that created a delicious heat
in my solar plexus. I knew that this was not the place to continue
our explorations of before, so I contented myself to this small
pleasure. As her tongue and mouth became more insistent, I felt her
reach down to my belt and tug my crotch into hers as she once again
wrapped her leg around mine. My rigid cock, standing up in my jeans,
pressed against her pubic area. It seemed like I could feel the heat
and moisture emanating from her crotch, and the sensation went right
to my bloodstream, making my cock even harder, making my hips rub
into her. Her hips started to bump into me, creating an exquisite
pressure pulsating between us, and I lowered my hand onto the firm
cheeks of her ass and pulled her into me. She moaned into my mouth,
and sucked my tongue into her mouth. She reached down to the small
of my back with both hands and clenched me tightly to her.

I don't know if it was a conscious decision on her part or not, but
she had chosen to wear a pair of cotton blend pants with an elastic
waistband this evening. The harder, thicker material of my denim
jeans only had to transmit through two thin layers of cotton to create
a rough and intense rubbing sensation against Missy's virginal slit.
Almost without volition I slipped my hand under the elastic of her
pants, and under her silken panties, to caress the bare skin of the
ass I had admired for so long. As I ran my hand down onto her butt,
she broke our kiss and pulled my lips to her throat. I kissed and
licked her from her ear to the base of her throat, thrilling to the
softness of her skin, as she held me even tighter and jerked her hips
into me.

All of a sudden she tensed, then frantically rubbed her pubic bone
against my erection, and her breath caught in her throat. I looked up
at her to see her eyes wide and unseeing, her bottom lip caught between
her teeth, her face tensed up in anticipation. She rubbed against me,
and then her hips gave me one more hard bump. The force of that last
jerk caused my erection to hit and glide across her flowered pussy
lips, stimulating her clitoris, and it sent her over the edge. She bit
down on her lip harder, and she started to let out a squeak that
climbed the register, until it became a soundless exhalation. My hand
on her smooth ass pressed lower and harder until I could feel the
secretions of her orgasm soaking her panties and oiling my fingertips.

As she slowly relaxed and came down from her high, I slipped my hand
out from her pants and hugged her to me. She rested her cheek on my
shoulder for a moment, and then lifted up to kiss me softly and
sweetly.

"I guess I got a little excited there," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I said softly. "I'm probably going to walk funny for the
rest of the night, but other than that I'm okay. Maybe even more
than okay."

"Oops," she said sheepishly. "Am I leaving you in pain?"

"It's okay, kiddo. Nothing that about an hour in a cold shower won't
cure."

She reached down between us and rubbed my erection through my jeans
for just a second.

"I don't think that's helping," I said to her in a bit of a panicky
voice.

"No? I'm sorry, Ray, it's just that all this is new to me. Am I
doing something wrong?" She had a worried tone in her voice that
calmed me down, even as her hand kept on running up and down my
erection.

"No, you're doing something too right, but please stop. I'm going to
have an accident in my pants if you don't," I said as I held her hand
still on my rampant cock.

"I don't want to be the source of your discomfort, Ray. What would
you like me to do, considering the surroundings?"

"What I'd like to do is continue what we've started, but somewhere
else. Considering the surroundings, though, I guess I'm just going
to have to put up with blue balls for the time being." Missy looked
hurt at that, so I hurriedly added, "I'm just kidding, Missy. I'm
really fine...or at least I will be in a minute."

I smiled at her, and gently removed her hand from my crotch, then
kissed her again. We sat up against the wall and looked for our sodas.

"Was that the first time you've cum?" I asked her quietly.

She blushed and lowered her head, and looked up at me shyly through
her eyelashes. "Well...not the first time I've cum...but the first
time I've had help."

"Wow, really? I'm glad it was me, then, who was here to help you."

"I'm glad, too," she replied. She had a mischievous smile on her face
that made her look very wise and very sexy. I wondered what she was
thinking.

When Lindsey and Brad came back to the party, they were both breezy
and friendly. I, on the other hand, was suffering from a bit of
sexual deprivation, brought on by our session in the basement. Missy
grabbed our coats, along with Brad's keys, and told Lindsey that we
were going to warm up the car for them, and suggested that she and
Brad take their time.

We got out to the car and Missy started it up and put the heater on
high, then climbed into the cold back seat with me. She immediately
wrapped me up in a hug.

"I'll try to make it up to you sometime, Ray, I promise. Be patient
with me, okay?" she whispered.

I put my arms around her and bent down to kiss her. She pulled my
arm from around her waist as we kissed, and took my hand in hers.
She then placed my hand on her soft breast underneath her coat, and
then dropped her hand onto my thigh. My cock immediately inflated
to capacity and began throbbing. Still kissing me hard, she moved
her hand up to rub my erection through my pants. I could feel the
precum bubble out, moistening my underwear, just at this almost
incidental contact. As she stroked my rigid cock, I squeezed her
breast, feeling her nipple expand and poke through the layers of
cloth. Missy unzipped my pants and reached in to pull my fat cock
out through the opening in my shorts. It was my turn to groan and
moan as my temperature climbed and my swollen cock pulsed in her
tiny hand. She looked over my shoulder and saw Brad and Lindsey
walking out of the party, so she lay down on the back seat and rested
her head on my lap, facing the seat. She grabbed my coat and pulled
it down to hide my erection, and brushed her hair across my lap.

"Tell them I'm tired and that you think I might be asleep," she said
to me quietly, a gleam in her eye.

Brad and Lindsey got into the car, and glanced at us in the back seat.
In answer to their unasked question, I told them that Missy had fallen
asleep, tired from the long week. They looked doubtful, but turned
around and started driving off without comment.

Missy, meanwhile, had not relinquished her grip on my turgid cock.
As soon as she felt the car moving, she resumed stroking me, taking
care to cover her movements as much as possible.

For my part, I was having considerable trouble keeping quiet during
her ministrations. I was breathing through my mouth, trying not to
scream out loud, as the sensations coursed through me. She was
inexperienced but enthusiastic, and I had been on the edge for hours
at that point, so the end was near.

Suddenly I felt my balls constrict, and I clutched Missy's upper arm
in warning. She was prepared, though, and continued to stroke me as
I started to cum. She held a wad of tissues in her hand over my cock
as I spurted, her other hand continuing to milk me. As the last
feeble spurts pulsed, she removed the soaking tissues and gazed at
the drops of sperm spilling down from the head to land on her fingers
as they were wrapped around me. She reached out with her tongue and
licked the drops off, tasting a boy's cum for the first time, then
lowered her lips around the head of my flushed cock, covering the
entire head, and sucked hard.

I very nearly lost it right there. My eyes nearly popped out of my
head from the sensation her sucking caused, and my hips pressed up at
her. She held the pressure of her lips on me for a moment more, then
pulled my cock slowly out of her mouth and licked her lips as she
looked up at me with laughing eyes. She tucked my deflating cock
back into my pants and relaxed back down into my lap and closed her
eyes, pretending once again to sleep until we got to her house, where
she slowly raised up, as if groggy, and said good night to Brad and
Lindsey. She kissed me and held me close.

"I didn't want to leave you to suffer from blue balls. Good night,
sweet dreams," she whispered to me.

I was astounded. It was the last thing I expected to happen that
night. I was thinking that I would be jacking off half the night
trying to relieve myself from the party, fantasizing about Melissa,
instead of enjoying a post-orgasmic laziness in the back of Brad's
car.

She surprised me that night, and I think that was the first time I
started to think that I might be in love with her.

HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 5 -

"Hey, Doofus!"

I turned around at hearing the familiar voice. Jared Felson was
walking toward me down the hall. His locker was just down from mine,
and we often stopped to talk before our first-period class.

"You talking to me, Shit-for-Brains?" I grinned at him.

"Shit for brains? Me? I'm not the one who's got the brown eyes, oh
observant one."

"Just because the eyes are brown doesn't mean I'm full all the way
up to there with bullshit, like a certain overconfident running back
I happen to know," I shot back.

"Hey, not overconfident, just sure of my abilities," he replied.
"Besides, I'm not the one who was walking out of the party Friday
looking like I was constipated and in some serious pain," he added
with a grin.

"Well, that was Friday, and I'm feeling right fine on this Monday
morning, but thanks for your concern," I said.

"So, Ray, what's up with you and the delectable Miss Melissa? Brit
tells me you guys disappeared into the basement for quite awhile,
and didn't hardly come up for air."

"You know," I said, looking up and down the hall. I really didn't
want any eavesdroppers on this conversation. "I saw your sister
down there too, but I'm surprised she even noticed us. She looked
like she was too busy liplocked with Donny to pay attention to
anything else."

Jared looked pained when I said that. I knew he wasn't terribly
fond of Brittany's boyfriend.

"Ah, shit, you had to go and tell me that, didn't you? Well, at
least it was our house, and there were a bunch of us around. That
little fuck wasn't gonna try anything much with most of the
football team there. I just wish Brit would get tired of his
skinny ass soon. I'm tired of his smirks, but I can't kick his
ass while she's still hanging on to it," he said.

"Maybe she just needs a little of the good lovin' from the Ray
Machine," I said to him, giving him my best Groucho Marx eyebrow
shimmy.

"Nope," he said with a smile. "You're too tall and big for Brittany.
She likes 'em skinny. Besides, the Ray Machine is, I believe, in
the process of being wrapped up and stamped with a big 'Hands Off'
sign by someone else in a letter sweater."

"Does this mean that Melissa is coming off your list now, buddy?"
I asked.

"No way!" he called back as he walked toward his first-period
classroom. "She stays on the list until she finds out what a true
doofus you really are, and decides to try the obvious quality of a
star running back instead!"

"Ain't gonna happen, Jared. She doesn't know any quality running
backs!"

We waved at each other across the sea of heads starting to fill the
hallway as we went our separate ways.

Later that night I just couldn't resist. I was tired and cranky from
doing homework and not being able to talk to Missy. Fuck it, I said
to myself, and I called Melissa's house.

"Hello?" It sounded like her mother had answered.

"Hi, is Melissa there?"

"Who is calling, please?" She sounded suspicious.

"Um, this is Ray. I'm in her Algebra class, and I have a question
about our homework," I said.

There was a pause. "Just a minute," she said. I heard the handset
hit something hard. There was a loud thunk, then silence.

A small voice came on. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," I said.

"What are you doing?" she fiercely whispered. I think she had her
hand covering her mouth and the microphone on the handset.

"I just wanted to talk to you. I told your mother I had a question
about Algebra."

"Algebra?" she said louder. "Just a minute, I'll get my notebook."
Then, quieter, she whispered, "Don't hang up."

After a couple of minutes I heard another telephone being picked up,
and Missy's voice called out, "Mom! Hang up the downstairs phone!
I've got it up here!"

She waited until she heard the click of the other telephone hanging
up, then whispered to me, "What, are you nuts? You know how my
parents are!"

"I missed you. I didn't see you all day today, except at lunch.
Besides, they're going to have to find out about us someday, aren't
they?"

"Yes, of course, but not TODAY, you goof! What am I going to do
with you?" she said, almost to herself.

I lowered my voice into what I hoped was a seductive tone. "Would
you be open to some suggestions?" I asked.

"Ray! You are terrible!" But I could hear just a trace of a giggle
in her voice. Score another point for the Ray Machine.

"Listen," I said quickly. "A bunch of kids are planning on getting
some rooms at the Holiday Inn for after the Snowflake Dance in
December. Do you think you can talk your folks into letting you stay
out all night?"

"Oh, God. I doubt it, I really doubt it. Besides," she added
pointedly, "nobody's even asked me to the dance yet."

"Hey, not my fault," I said hastily. "Your parents haven't let you
date yet, and I didn't want to be turned down, you know?"

"Well, they might make an exception for one of the big events of
the school year. I'll work on them. Does this mean that you're
going to ask me out if I can convince them that I'm old enough to
go out on a date?"

"You could ask ME out, you know. It shouldn't always be up to the
guy anymore."

"With my parents, that'll be the day," she grumbled.

"Okay, if you insist, then I'll do the asking. Melissa Samuelson,
light of my life and holder of my heart, will you accompany me to
the Snowflake Dance?"

There was a pause long enough that I wondered if she was still on
the line.

"Do you mean that, Ray?" she asked quietly.

"Of course I do, Missy. I would like you to go to the dance with me.
What did you think?"

"Not that part, dummy. The other part."

"What? Light of my life and holder of my heart?"

"Yes, that part. Do you mean that?"

Suddenly I knew that this was very important to her. The glib answer
I had ready died on my lips.

"Yes," I said softly. "I mean it. I belong to you until you send
me away."

There was another long pause. Then, so softly I barely heard, she
whispered, "Thank you, Ray. And I am yours, too. Good night."

And with that the line went dead as she hung up the phone.

Oh my God, what did I do? I thought to myself. Suddenly I was
nervous. Did I just commit to something? Did my mouth just make a
promise that my body wouldn't be able to keep? Christ in a Bucket,
I hope I didn't just step into some very deep shit, I thought.

I didn't sleep very well that night.

HARD PROMISE
Rev. Cotton Mather

- 6 -

Two weeks later I was going to eat dinner with Melissa, her little
sister Megan, and her parents at the Samuelson house. All week long
Missy was coaching me about her parents, desperately wanting me to make
a good first impression. I was pretty desperate, too. I was having
nightmares about dribbling ice cream down the front of my suit, or
sneezing a big goober out all over the table, or some such other
calamity during dinner with her parents. I was nervous as hell about
it, but no matter how bad it got for me, I knew it was worse for
Melissa.

She was getting a lot of flak from her parents about bringing a boy
to dinner, and her sister was incessant in her taunting. For an
11-year-old (never a good age anyway, in my book), Megan seemed to be
particularly annoying and spiteful, and I hadn't even met her yet.

"Missy," I finally said in exasperation, "you're 15 years old. What
do they want to do, keep you in a convent until you're 21?"

"Probably," she muttered. We were in the library, having gotten
passes out of our respective study halls so we could be together for
a little while. "But until I can talk some sense into their thick
heads, we've got to do it this way. So lighten up, Raymond."

We had only been seeing each other for a couple of months, but I knew
when she called me Raymond, that I had better pay attention. Who
says a 16-year-old hormonally charged jock couldn't learn anything?

"Remember. With my dad, a firm handshake is necessary, but don't
squeeze so hard you crush his fingers. Look him in the eye when
you're shaking his hand, but not in a challenging way. Don't disagree
with him if he says something you think is wrong; just keep your mouth
shut. I know it isn't right, but just do it, for my sake, okay?" She
looked at me with those big blue eyes, her head down so she was
looking askance through her eyelashes. Who could resist?

"Okay, I've got it. Meek and mild, that's me. Agreeable right down
to my shoes."

"And don't let Megan get on your nerves. She will try, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but really, how much trouble can an 11-year-old really
be?"

"Hoo, boy, do you have a lot to learn," she said.

So there I was that Friday night, driving in my dad's car over to
Melissa's house for dinner with her family. I had a fresh haircut, I
was showered and shaved, and so nervous I thought I'd sweat right
through my suit coat. I kept on wiping my sweaty palms on my pants,
vainly trying to will myself to calm down. I managed to park in her
driveway without knocking down any trees, or driving over any rose
bushes, which, considering my mental state, was an accomplishment. I
knocked on the door, half hoping they had forgotten about this and had
gone out somewhere. I was relieved when the door opened and Missy was
there. She was dressed in a simple black sweater with gray pants.
There was a fine gold chain with a small pearl pendant around her neck.
She had curled her blonde hair so that it lay on her shoulders, soft
and lustrous. She had never looked lovelier.

"Pow," I said, gazing at her in awe.

She blushed, shook her head, and dragged me into the house by my arm.
She looked around quickly, then reached up and gave me a quick peck
on the lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

"Take it easy, Ray. You look like you're walking to your own execution.
It's only dinner," she said with a bit of a smirk.

She led me into the living room. Her father stood up and strode over
to us.

"Daddy, I would like you to meet Ray Kennedy. Ray, this is my father."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Samuelson," I said as I held out my hand.

"Ray," he acknowledged, as he grasped my hand and shook it. 'Melissa
has been telling us about you."

"Only the good parts, I hope," I said. I glanced at Missy, but she
seemed fairly calm, not really nervous at all. Maybe, I thought, things
will go okay after all.

"Sit down for a moment, Ray," said Mr. Samuelson. "Dinner will be ready
in a few minutes. Melissa, would you like to offer your guest something
to drink?"

She jumped slightly, caught by surprise, and asked what I would like.

"Uh, just water is fine with me, thanks," I said.

"I'll take a glass also, please, Melissa," said her father. He turned
his attention back to me. "So, Melissa tells me you are in the 11th
grade."

For the next half hour he grilled me on school, my grades, football and
basketball and baseball, my college choices, my career choices, and a
dozen other subjects. About the only thing he didn't ask me was my hat
size. By the time he was done, I felt like I had been wrung out and
hung up to dry. Missy's mother dropped it briefly to be introduced,
and then she hustled back toward the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
Missy sat by me on the couch when she was not needed in the kitchen,
which probably tempered her dad's questioning somewhat. I was grateful
for her presence. There was still no sign of her sister Megan.

Finally, Mrs. Samuelson announced that dinner was ready to be served.
We all stood up, and Mrs. Samuelson ushered us out of the living room
and into their dining room. There were only four places set at the
table.

"Oh, by the way," said Mrs. Fergus, "Megan is eating dinner at Ivy's
house tonight. She'll be home at about 7:30."

We sat down, and Mr. Samuelson said grace, and we started passing food
around the table. The conversation became lighter as we ate, now that
he ice had been broken, and I started to relax a little. Missy gave me
a quick secret smile as she passed the vegetables.

Mrs. Samuelson was a good cook, and I was effusive in my compliments.
She tried to pass it all off as a normal Friday ritual for them, but I
thought she looked pleased with my comments. Mr. Samuelson looked on,
all seriousness, but I think he was a bit amused. The good news, in my
opinion, is that I made it through dinner without sneezing out a big
goober all over the table. I took it as a small victory over my
nightmares.

After dinner we wandered into the family room for coffee and dessert.
I heard the front door open and a loud voice called out, "I'm home!"
The door slammed, and we heard the sound of feet pounding up the stairs.

Mrs. Samuelson got up and went to the bottom of the stairs and called
up, "Hi, dear. Come down and meet Melissa's friend from school."

The feet came pounding back down the stairs, and a small, thin and
gangly dark-haired girl walked into the family room.

Mrs. Samuelson introduced us. "Megan, this is Ray. Ray, meet
Melissa's younger sister, Megan."

I said hello to her, but she just stared at me without saying anything.

"Megan? What do you say?" asked Mrs. Samuelson.

"Did you kiss her yet?" Megan asked sarcastically.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"I said, did you kiss her yet?" she repeated. "Or should I use smaller
words for you? You don't look all that bright."

"Megan, you are such a brat!" cried Melissa.

"Oh, did I hit home?" said Megan. She sashayed over to sit on the floor
by the fireplace. "Or are you just too much of a Little Miss Perfect to
sully your lips with someone else's germs?"

"Mother!" cried Melissa. "Can't you do something with her?"

"Megan, you must be nice to Melissa and her friend," chided Mrs.
Samuelson.

"Oh, all right, I'll be nice," she sulked. "I always have to be nice
'cause Missy is always so perfect. 'Why can't you be like Missy?'
I don't WANT to be like Missy. I am myself. I'll NEVER be like
Missy." She looked around the room, daring anybody to disagree with
her. "So, Ray, what do you do? You look like a jock. What do you
play?"

"Ummm...well, I was on the varsity football team, and I'm on the
basketball team, and then in the spring I'll probably play baseball..."

"I play soccer," Megan interrupted. "None of those other sports
interest me. Have you ever played soccer?"

"Well," I said hesitantly, "I played for a couple of years, but I
wasn't real good at a game I couldn't pick up the ball in, so I
dropped it."

"Figures," she muttered. "Just another brainless jock who doesn't
understand a game he can't play."

I turned to Melissa. "What a sweet sister," I said to her. "I think
I know now why there are only two kids in this family."

Mrs. Samuelson choked on her strawberry shortcake, and Mr. Samuelson
nearly spat out a mouthful of coffee. Melissa looked as if I had
struck her.

Oh shit, I thought to myself. I've really cooked my goose now. I was
just about to apologize when Mr. Samuelson burst out laughing.

"By Christ, that's a great comeback, Ray," he said, still chuckling.
"Megan, I don't think he is quite as brainless as you think he is. And
he's right, you have been a brat. It's past time you apologized to Ray
and to Melissa for your behavior."

Megan looked sullen. Finally she said, "Okay. You're right. I
apologize. I'm sorry you're a brainless jock." She stood and walked
out of the room and up the stairs. We heard a door slam.

Mrs. Samuelson turned to me and said, "I am so sorry for that, Ray.
Megan, I'm afraid, is quite headstrong. I'll go talk to her."

"No, no, please," I said. "Don't go up there and make matters worse
on my account. I was out of line, and I apologize to both of you, Mr.
and Mrs. Samuelson, and I will be happy to personally apologize to
Megan, too."

"Sit down, Ray, and stop talking nonsense," said Mr. Samuelson.
"Megan deserved it, and she's going to have to accept the consequences
of letting her mouth run. Linda will handle her, and I will have a
little chat with her, but you have nothing to apologize to her for.
Now, tell me about this Snowflake Dance that Melissa has been bending
our ears about."

An hour later, I felt like I had been through a negotiating session with
Yasser Arafat. I was exhausted from the experience of dinner with the
Samuelsons, but by the end of the evening both Missy and I felt very
good about how it all went. Her parents had accepted me, and Missy
could stay out until 2:00 AM the night of the Snowflake Dance. It
wasn't perfect, but it was a lot more than Missy ever expected her
father to agree to. I said good night to her folks, and she walked me
to her front door. We stepped through, and she softly closed the door
behind her, then wrapped her arms around my neck and stretched up to
give me a soft, sensuous kiss. I hugged her tight to me, glad the
ordeal was over, and playfully grabbed her earlobe between my teeth.

"Careful," she whispered huskily. "Don't start something you won't be
able to finish tonight." She rubbed her hips against me then, and
kissed me hard, then let go and turned to go back in. She turned with
her hand on the doorknob and said, "Way to go tonight, Ray. You were
a star."

"Just trying to come through for my Missy girl," I said, the very
picture of modesty.

"Well, you did come through, but I think it was for both of us," she
said with a smile. "Tomorrow at Fabrice's?"

A grin traced itself across my face. "Tomorrow it is," I said.

(Continued in Chapter 7)