I rolled off the bed and fumbled into my shorts, suddenly embarrassed by my boyish, immature, body. “I uh, have to get back to work, you know?” I said, making conversation as I searched for my cloths. I had undressed in a hurry and they were scattered all about her bedroom, and it took me a while to collect them all.

“Come back and see me again,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “And bring a friend, if you want. Three’s even more fun than two.”

I didn’t know it at the time, but her invitation had started a chain of events that would eventually cost my very best friend his balls.

I had turned sixteen in April and wanted to buy a car, so when school let out for the summer I was in the market for a job. Dad had gotten me a mini dirt bike years ago and I had upgraded to a larger one last year, so my face was familiar around the Honda dealership and that was the first place I tried. It so happened that the owner and service manager had just decided to hire a summer-time flunky right before I walked in the door, so without even really trying I had landed my first paying job. I was the lowest guy on the payroll and my duties were limited to keeping the floor swept, washing cowshit off of farmers’ ATVs, test riding the little mini-bikes that the mechanics were ashamed to be seen on, and other such highly technical chores befitting my abilities.

I was sweeping the floor one morning late in July when a CBX with an Idaho plate came rolling in. It was bright red, swoopy, and had a crossways mounted six-cylinder engine that made it just about the fastest thing on the road. They are tame compared to today’s hundred and eighty mile per hour superbikes, but it was just about the neatest bike out there in 1979 and one that I cheerfully would have given my left nut to ride. The rider wasn’t bad either; a twenty or thirty something chick wearing a two hundred dollar Arai helmet and red racing leathers that were tight enough to have been painted on. The only thing wrong was that the rear tire on the bike had a big hunk of tread missing. I kind of wandered over to the service manager’s desk to check out both the chick and her bike and couldn’t help but hear her bitching about us having to order a new tire out of Seattle instead of having one in stock. The service manager explained that there was only one kind of bike that used that particular tire, and since we hadn’t sold any of the bikes we weren’t obligated to stock tires for them, and that it he could have one in early the next morning.

The gal really didn’t have much choice anyway. Unless she wanted to haul the bike somewhere else she was going to have to wait for a new tire. She still wasn’t too happy about things, and finally her and the service manager went up front to talk to the owner and I went back to at least acting like I was busy.

“Hey, Miller,” the service manager called as they left the front office. “This lady needs a ride back to Post Falls. Take her there in the shop truck, then get right back here, no screwing around, Okay?”

“Sure, Jack, no problem,” I answered, grateful for the break. Post Falls was about a half an hour or so East on I-90 from Spokane and I could milk the trip out to take up the rest of the morning without any problem.

“God, but it’s hot!” She exclaimed, once we were on our way. “How about turning on the AC?”

“It doesn’t work,” I answered. “Something about being out of freon, I think Vern said.”

“Shit,” she said, cranking her window down all the way and sliding the zipper on her jacket down a little, revealing a little milky-white cleavage. Like a typical teenage letch I reached up and twisted the center mirror so I get a better look at her chest. “Like what you see, sport?” She asked, her eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Might want to keep your eyes on the road.”

I felt my face getting hot as I blushed, but she didn’t pursue the subject, neither did she loosen the zipper. I had been dating by then, of course, but nothing serious enough to get a girl’s bra off, let alone get in her pants, so I spent the rest of the drive fantasizing about what she might look like with the zipper all of the way open. She directed me to the outskirts of Post Falls, and finally up a dirt driveway to where a singlewide trailer sat.

“Thanks for the lift,” she said, placing her hand on my thigh. “Come in, and I’ll give you something for your trouble.”

“Uh, that’s okay,” I replied, knowing that Jack would ream me out if I accepted a tip from what he considered his customer. “It’s all part of the service.”

“Bullshit,” she replied. “At least come in out of the heat for a minute and have a Pepsi or something.”

“Okay,” I finally relented. Another five minutes wasn’t going to matter, and I’d already planned on stopping on the way back anyway, so I followed her into the small kitchen. She got me a can of pop from the fridge, and then disappeared down the hallway into the bathroom.

“Here,” she said, when she came back into the kitchen, “these are for you.” I looked down as she placed two condoms in my hand, and then yanked the zipper on her leathers open. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the sight of her magnificent boobs had an immediate effect on my teenage virginal body that simply couldn’t be ignored. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway. “Let’s go see if they fit.”

Like all sixteen year olds I knew all about the mechanics of sex, and even though I hadn’t had any direct experience I knew all about penis, vagina, and orgasm. I had spent many hours masturbating and fantasizing about how I’d seduce a young girl into falling madly in love with me and allowing me to gently take her virginity, probably following a heavy session of petting and foreplay, and I had also received all of the standard lectures about unprotected and promiscuous sex. Yeah, right. I stripped off my clothes while she went into the bathroom and got a large towel to put under us, the she peeled off the skin tight leathers and her little panties and handed me the rubber that I had put on the bedside table. I tore the package open, but couldn’t manage to get the damn thing on until she took it, turned it over, and smoothly rolled it onto my massive five and thirteen-sixteenths inch erection with one well-practiced sweep of her hand. I fumbled around on my knees between her widely spread legs for a few seconds, unsure of the proper position, before she put her hands on my ass and pulled me to her, telling me to just lie down. She finally got me plugged in, and then dug her hands into my ass cheeks and started rocking away beneath me. I felt the pressure building and knew it was going to be quick, and just as I closed my eyes and felt the release she gave a tremendous lurch and let out a loud moan. It would be many years before another woman faked an orgasm for me, and hers was still the best I had ever seen.

I was still groggy when I rolled off of her and hardly aware that she had stripped the used rubber from my rapidly deflating cock and dropped it into the nearby wastebasket, but I became instantly awake when she knelt between my legs and took my sticky cock into her mouth. I tried to sit up, but she pushed me back down and continued to work on me, alternating her attention between the head of my cock, the shaft, and my balls. In less than a minute I began to respond, and the harder I became the faster she worked her skillful tongue, and before five minutes had elapsed I was once more laid out on the bed, this time completely spent.

“I uh, have to get back to work, you know?” I finally said, rolling off the bed and collecting my widely scattered clothes. She had lit a cigarette without offering me one, and as I fumbled around getting dressed she told me to come back again some time, and even bring a friend, that it was even better with three people.

To say that I had my head up my ass for the rest of the day would be the understatement of the year. I couldn’t concentrate or focus on much of anything, and the only thing that saved me was the boss’s directive that I clean the weeds and trash from the fence around the back of the store, where I would at least be out of sight. My ass hurt a little where she had dug in with her fingernails, but what really bothered me was my cock. For the first time in my life it felt totally, completely, flaccid. Usually all I had to do was think of it and it would stir to life, not necessarily a raging hard-on, but still enough of a wakening to get my attention, but now it seemed as if it would never again come to life. Had she fucked it up by sucking on it? I simply didn’t know.

I went back inside just before quitting time and got a can of Pepsi from the machine and set down to drink it.

“Hey kid,” Vern, the head mechanic, came over and sat down beside me. “Next time you rip off a piece be sure to get your socks on right afterwards. It’s kind of hard to do in the dark, but work on it some and you’ll get it right.”

I looked down, and sure enough, one sock was inside out. Vern had kind of a dirty mind and was always coming up with some sort of crap like that, and normally I just ignored him but this time my face got about as deep a shade of red as anyone had ever seen and gave him all the proof he needed. “What’s she do kid? Let you fuck her or suck you off?”

“Yeah,” I answered meekly.

“Yeah what? Did you screw her or did she blow you?” Vern was a real romantic, no doubt about that.

“Yeah, both.”

“No way! You lucky little shit! No wonder your ass has been dragging around all afternoon. Christ! You’ll be lucky if you can get it up again by next week!”

“Really?” I asked. “It does feel kind of uh, funny or something.”

“Just shitting you kid,” Vern reassured me. “By tomorrow morning you’ll be hot to trot again.”

The longest day of my young life was finally over with, and I kicked the XL125 to life and headed home. I rode slowly, for a change, and thought about what she had said about coming back and bringing a friend, and I knew that I had to tell Sam all about what had happened.

I had known Sam practically all of my life, and he was my best friend. We had started kindergarten together, and except for a few quickly forgotten spats had remained friends since then. He was always welcome at our dinner table, as I was his, and we frequently spent the night at each other’s homes. Sam’s quick thinking saved both our asses when our cobbled together raft broke apart on the lake, and it was with Sam that I first experienced the rush of illegal childhood nicotine, the hazy sleepiness of cannabis, and the buzz of warm, skunky beer purloined from some other kid’s secret stash. We had grown up together, entered puberty about the same time, and watched each other jack off, although that was the extent of our sexual explorations. If we were to believe the other guys our age, we were also the only two remaining sixteen-year-old virgins in Washington State.

Sam didn’t yet have a driver’s license and he only worked part time, so instead of going home I rode over to his house to shoot the shit like I did most afternoons after work. We walked up the hill behind his house, lit up cigarettes, and he sat and listened as I told him about my day.

“No way, Jose,” he used his favorite phrase. “I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t give a shit if you believe it or not, but that’s what happened. We did it twice, and I’ve got the scratches on my ass to prove it,” I countered.

“Show me,” he demanded. I stood up and turned away and pulled down my pants, and only then was aware that I had the start of a boner. Just telling the story had gotten to me.

“Holy shit!” Another of Sam’s favorite saying came out when he saw the streaks on my ass cheeks.

“Yeah, well, the thing is, she invited me back and told me I could bring a friend. How about it? You have enough balls for something like that?” I challenged.

“You know damn well I’ve got more than you!” He had the biggest balls of any kid in the school and he took a lot of shit about them, and it used to be that some of the older guys would take him down and grope them to verify that they were indeed real. They were huge and hung low between his legs like large eggs in the toe of a sock. His cock wasn’t anything special, but it was now trying its damndest to break out of the confines of his Levis.

I went to bed early that night and kept waking up with a hard on which I tried to just ignore so I could go back to sleep. When I was thirteen and fourteen years old I jacked off a couple of times a day just for the novelty. Now I only spanked the monkey three or four times a week, or when I really thought I needed to. I finally gave up on sleeping, turned the light on, and went to work on the problem. My cock seemed bigger than it had been, both longer and thicker, and even though I’d shot off twice that day I still had a three roper. I wiped up and went to sleep, but had another boner in the morning, which I took care of with a rather cool shower.

The tire was there for the CBX the next morning and Vern got right on installing it while I cleaned up the floor under an old dirt bike that had a cracked case. I didn’t like doing that, but it was my own fault for forgetting to put a pan under it last night. Vern finally finished and then spent the next half hour trying to talk the service manager into letting him deliver the bike. Vern pointed out that I couldn’t do it because it was way to much bike for me to handle and all, but before they settled anything the lady, I still didn’t even know her name, called and said she had a ride in to pick it up. Shit! I wanted in the worst way to go get her with the shop truck.

Another, older, lady dropped her off right after lunch. She had on her leathers again and even though they were zipped all the way up I got hard just looking at her. She smiled and kind of winked at me on the way to the office to settle her bill and then came back to the shop to pick up her bike. Vern wasted no time trying to hook up with her. He tried every line he had, but she just shut him down cold. Of course Vern was about forty-five years old at that time and forty-five pounds overweight, so I didn’t think he had of a chance anyway. She fired the bike up and left, then came back in a few minutes and pulled up to the washrack where I was pressure washing a three-wheeler.

“Hey, you forgot this. Oh, and I meant what I said about dropping by with a friend.” She said just before she dropped the clutch on the bike and zipped away. The bag contained the other rubber she had given me the previous day. I waited until Vern and the Service manager were both busy, and then rifled through the work orders and found the one with her name and phone number.

Friday evening Sam and I were on our way to Post Falls. We had each told our parents that we were staying at each other’s houses for the night, and being as how we were both good, angelic children who had never sinned, we got away with it. Actually, we had no idea where we were going to spend the night. The lady agreed over the phone to entertain us for a while, as she put it, but there was no commitment to let us sleep over.

We both piled on the XL125 and then stopped at a gas station so we could each buy a couple of rubbers from the vending machine in the men’s room, then headed for Post Falls. The little 125 is too slow for the freeway, so we used the back roads. I was keenly aware of Sam’s presence behind me on the short dirt bike saddle and I kept imagining that I could feel his boner digging into the small of my back.

Trina Williams greeted us enthusiastically, verified that we had both came equipped, gave Sam an appraising eye, and then herded both of us into the bedroom. She had stripped the bed covers off of the queen-sized bed leaving only the bottom sheet, and she had already placed several slop towels in the center of the bed. Real romantic.

She peeled off her t-shirt, shorts, and panties while Sam and I stripped for action. I was hard as a rock and ready, but Sam hadn’t gotten it up yet so I went first. I expertly rolled on the rubber and saddled up, this time bound and determined to make it last as long as I could. I had debated earlier rather or not to jack off in the morning, but had finally elected to save it. I made almost two minutes before popping, and this time she didn’t bother with even the pretense of an orgasm. Sam had been watching, and sometime during my performance he rose to the occasion. His cock was a little thicker than mine, but certainly no longer. It was his balls that had mine beat. They were each easily half again as large as my own, and instead of being sucked up tight like mine when I had a boner, his sagged low, as if he’d just gotten out of a hot shower. Like me, he had a little trouble with the rubber, but eventually figured it out. He did as I had done and started in with a series of slow thrusts. He hadn’t even shot his wad when she cut loose with loud moan and started writhing her hips in a real live orgasm. Sam quickly finished and rolled to the other side of the bed. This time she just lay there a few minutes getting her breath back.

I was kind of looking forward to another blowjob, as Vern had called it, and I hoped we weren’t done yet. She finally got onto her hands and knees and knelt before Sam and took t him into her mouth. She couldn’t get both of his balls in at once like she had done to me of course, only lick them and suck on his cock a little, only long enough to get him hard before turning her attention on me. “Take me from the back, like a dog,” she told Sam, and went back to work on me. “Not in my ass, damn it! In my pussy!” She admonished Sam. Her look of pleasure as Sam humped her and the fierce intensity of Sam’s expression, as well as the slapping of his balls against her pussy was almost too much for me, and I closed my eyes and shut out all sounds. Of course, her sucking on my cock also added something to the intensity of the moment.

She kicked us out about nine so we rode back to Spokane and finally crashed at Sam’s house. His parents had gone out for the evening, and we would probably be asleep by the time they returned. “How soon can we go back?” He asked as I climbed into the bunk that had once been his older brother’s.

“Any time we want, I guess. I don’t know.”

“How about tomorrow?” Sam asked.

I never saw Trina again. Before I called her for another ‘date’ I ran into a girl that I had taken out earlier, and armed with my newly acquired knowledge and confidence I took our relationship to a level that eliminated all want or need of affections from an older lady. Maybe it was my insecurities, or the size of Sam’s balls, or the pleasure she received from him, but I didn’t like having another guy watch me screw. Later on in college I took part in a few alcohol and drug fueled gangbangs, but even then it was one guy at a time in the room.

That was not the case with Sam; he was hopelessly addicted to what she dispensed. He was initially pissed off that I wouldn’t take him to her, and he even hitchhiked to her place a few times until he got his driver’s license. After that we kind of drifted apart until school started again, and even then he continued to chase her instead of girls his own age.

I first heard about it on the radio. An unidentified youth had been assaulted at the Post Falls residence of a Master Sergeant from nearby Fairchild Air force Base. The youth was in serious condition at Mercy hospital, and the airman, John Williams, was in custody charged with the crime. Then I heard a couple of guys that came into the shop talking about it. They said that the maintenance tech had been at the Mountain Home base on temporary duty and came home to find some kid screwing his wife and proceeded to beat the shit out of him

I guess I knew right then what had happened and who the victim was, but it wasn’t until I got home that I knew for certain that it was Sam that the husband had caught banging his young wife, and it wasn’t until I visited Sam in the hospital that I was told the awful truth about his injuries.

Sam was strapped to the hospital bed. Each arm was secured to small extensions that had been clamped to the side of the bed and were connected to several transfusion bags by a maze of plastic tubing. Another bag half filled with amber piss was suspended on the side of the bed and was being fed by a yellow tube that disappeared under the sheets. One of Sam’s eyes was swollen shut and he had a large bandage taped to the side of his face. There were no other apparent injuries. I sat there quite a while just looking at him, unwilling to wake him up, until a nurse came in and roused him for a vital signs check or something. He waited until she left to tell me what had happened.

His voice was weak, and he was on the verge of crying as he told the story, but what it amounted to was that they had been in her bedroom going at it when the guy came in. Sam didn’t hear a thing because they had the radio turned up, and the first thing Sam knew was that someone grabbed him from behind by his balls and pulled him off of the bed and onto the floor, and then started pounding on him. He was vaguely aware that Trina was screaming and hammering on the guy, and only dimly aware that the guy had unsheathed the folding knife that all sergeants carried. He remembered the guy dragging him by his hair to the front door and throwing him out, but it was only when he came to and felt the searing pain in his crotch that he realized the guy had sliced his nuts off. Sam said he might have died if the meter reader hadn’t came around and called an ambulance for him. He passed out after that and didn’t remember anything until he woke up in the hospital.

Next came the real bunch of bullshit. Any of the other forty-nine states would have surely crucified a man who castrated a sixteen year old boy, but since the sergeant had been on active duty at the time of the assault, the DA for Kootenai County decided to save the local taxpayers some money and just kicked it all back to the Air Force. The review board, all old timers who had served away from their spouses at one time or another, wasn’t about to fuck up the career of a highly trained and hard working airman who had just exercised his rights as a husband.

Sex, even consensual, between a twenty-nine year old and a sixteen year old is statutory rape, and even a backwoods state like Idaho would have locked up a male perpetrator, but the prevailing opinion of the all-male jury was that the sixteen year old boy was a ‘lucky little fucker’ to have been victimized, and they summarily turned her loose. Of course her lawyer made sure that they knew nothing of the outcome of the assault in which she herself had incurred a black eye and two loosened teeth.

Sam never went back to school. He went to live with an Aunt in Seattle, and even today he rarely visits his hometown. He never openly blamed me for his misery but I still felt bad; after all, it was me that got him into the mess. I was also grateful; if not for him it would have likely been me in the saddle when the young airman came home to service his wife.