The Game ... First Time Sex: Part 17 - Pillow Talk

It's scary to project into the future from the present, but at sometime Marcus and I will have to provide for Donna and Tonya. Of course, Donna and Tonya have all the ambitions to create their own careers, but I will do what it takes to keep Tonya if it means working night and day.

After my mom finishes buying some Shakti bread, MT Tam Cheese, and Kaia Buckwheat Granola to satisfy her organic fix for the week, we drive home.

Now it's the next day, Monday, and school is agony as I anticipate Valentine's night, and it seems like an eternity until Marcus arrives at my house right after school. Marcus' cell plays his favorite ringtone for Donna, "Defying Gravity," from the Wicked musical.

"It's Donna. They are picking us up as soon as possible," he warns.

"Why? We have the house to ourselves tonight since my parents are going to that Sweetheart Affair dinner downtown," I say.

"Donna has something planned for us. Then we'll come back here. She says don't change, just come as we are. We'll shower and change later," he explains.

Donna and Tonya arrive even before my parents leave for their dinner. It's funny that I thought that paying two hundred and fifty dollars for a couple was steep and then we ended up paying the same amount on Saturday night to eat in the dark. Donna didn't say anything about eating tonight, so we will have to wait to find out what the fuck her surprise is.

It's only been a day, but I jump into the backseat and hug and kiss Tonya. Marcus is more dramatic and goes to Donna's side of the car and opens the door for he. He nudges her out and makes her stand outside of the car and kisses her. Whatever shyness we had about kissing in front of the house is gone this afternoon, but my parents are no where near the front of the house when we walk out the door. So I jump in the backseat, and I'm am not afraid of running my hand up Tonya's skirt as I kiss and kiss her.

Suddenly, I hear, "You guys have fun and be careful," coming from the entrance. It's my mother! Oh fucking geezus, I just don't like to display affection with Tonya in front of her, so I quickly remove my hand and wave with the same hand that had been touching Tonya's pussy a few seconds ago.

"Get us out of here, Donna," I say so that they will stop kissing and get in the car.

Donna waves at my mom, and Marcus says bye to her as he runs around to get into the passenger side of Donna's Kia Soul. If you recall, Marcus dubbed it the Ugli-mobile but has since recanted his displeasure of the boxy look after the super Kia commercial started playing. That is one of my favorite commercials.

"I know you won't tell us, but I have to ask. Where are we going," I laugh.

"Give it up. She wouldn't even tell me," says Tonya.

"I know where we're going," says Marcus.

"And you didn't tell me?" I say a bit shocked.

"So what do you know?" asks Donna indicating that she hadn't told him in advance.

"We're going to fuck ourselves to death," he states his desires.

Donna reaches over and grabs him between his legs and Marcus yells.

"OK, OK. I give up," he says.

"Don't take anything for granted," cautions Donna.

"OK. OK, let go. I won't take it for granted," he pleads.

"Don't take anything for granted except that you will get fucked," she laughs.

"See, I told you," says Marcus proudly confident that his dick will be surrounded my Donna's pussy soon.

"Don't push it Marcus," I caution, and we become hysterical laughing and elevating ourselves to a manic state that we all get when we are together. It is just a great time when all of our worries about school and shit can be left behind, and all we can think about is having fun with each other. Donna seems to be in a hurry, but still drives safely.

"Are we trying to make a deadline," I'm curious about Donna's speed this afternoon.

"I just want to beat the traffic. We're going downtown again," she says.

On the way, Donna plays something different, and we listen politely for about 60 seconds until I can't resist asking.

"What is this, sitar music?" I ask since I grew up hearing Indian music occasionally due to my father's background.

"No. This is Faramarz Payvar on 72-stringed hammered dulcimer called a santur. He lived in Iran and died in 2009," Donna says as she goes into her full-blown education mode of which she thrives.

"An Arab, and a Muslim? Aren't there two Jews in here, or have I finally converted you guys to one of my new-age religions?" I laugh referring to my somewhat unspoken interest in my ever expanding or ever narrowing world view of the supernatural.

Donna laughs, "It's Persian. Iranians are Persian, not Arabs. And besides, the arts transcend political and religious beliefs and disagreements."

Marcus is not one to hold back the obvious, "Fuck world peace. This shit sucks. Play something else."

"I agree. We've had enough multi-cultural appreciation today," I say as the music continues on a near drone with monotonous tones from the dulcimer grinding into our ear canals.

"It's only 30 minutes long. Surely, we can devote a few minutes to expand our cultural horizons," she teases while still in her instruction mode.

"Fuuuck," Marcus states his usually word for displeasure.

"Faramarz Payvar devoted his whole life to his music and was persecuted many times because of it," Donna provides a last bit of instruction while enjoying our displeasure a bit longer.

Even Tonya is getting a bit restless and laughs, "OK, this stuff is creepy."

"Yeah, I agree. We've stretched our limits for bringing the villages together. Turn that shit off," I plead for all of us.

Donna is enjoying our pain and laughs, "OK, just remember, don't write off a whole country because on an individual level, there are many things on which we agree. I was just testing to see how much patience you guys have," she laughs.

"Patience? We wait for you each weekend with pent up desires that you can't imagine," I defend our displeasure.

"And we don't have the same urges and pain while waiting for you?" asks Donna.

"OK. OK. You have urges too, but you can't say we aren't patient, and we are a diverse group, but please, no more santur music on Valentine's Day. I love fucking Arabs," I laugh.

"Persians! Persians, not Arabs," she corrects me.

"OK whatever. I love everyone. Now give us some gawd damn music," I beg to be relieved of the audio torture.

It was interesting to find out about this guy and to be corrected about Arabs versus Persians. We are no worse for the wear except with all of the conversation, I have lost valuable time that could have been used to play with Tonya's nipples, knees, thighs, and pussy. Oh geezus, I love her. I feel her hand rubbing my dick through my pants as if I needed more stimulation. I am so excited about being with her during this long ride. It never gets old.

Mercifully, Donna finally plays music from the group Norma Jean, "The People that Surround You On a Regular Basis,"

We're crashing down and burning out with every word you say.
We're burning through the atmosphere and we hope...
we hope you never find us... we hope you never find us anywhere.

The lyrics seem to describe Donna's continued desire to hover over us and isolate us from the lack of maturity of others our age in our schools. She is an individual and shuns the drama and social conformity characteristic of our age group. That doesn't keep her from dressing fashionably or doing lots of things that other teenagers do, but we just don't do it with others from our schools. It works for her, and it's works for us. I think we have a lot of qualities that exceed others our age, but who is to judge? All I know it that we trust Donna, and she hasn't let us down, but the weather has. It's raining and a bit dreary. We park near Justin Herman Plaza, and then it's apparent what Donna has gotten us into.

It's the annual Valentine's Day pillow fight! It's a flash-mob party. With four pillows in the car, we won't have any problem participating.

"Fuuuck, super!" says Marcus.

"Great idea, Donna," Tonya adds.

We are all excited and don't worry about the rain. I can see why Donna said not to bother about dressing up. We just came from school. No sense getting dressed up to stand in the rain beating the crap out of strangers with a pillow. Our pillows are foam rubber so that when they break, it's easier to pick up. Each year the streets are covered with feathers, and it's costly to remove. The feathers stop up the drains too. Some people volunteer to pick up the shit afterwards. We would be glad to help, but we're leaving long before then end of the pillow war.

We stand around talking nonsense and are oblivious to a hoard of people around us. At 6 p.m. all hell breaks loose. Of course, our first targets are within our own group, but Marcus The Adventurous starts pounding everyone around us and soon we are overtaken by ruthless, barbarians similar to zombies in 28 Days Later or Resident Evil. It's a fucking riot.

It's supposed to last 3 hours, but I'm tired after 3 minutes. At first I'm slugged in the side, then the rear, then a full frontal assault by two girls ganging up on me. It's treacherous, and it's every man, woman, and beast for themselves. I lose my group, but we quickly pull together and make an impromptu plan to hold off the hoard, but it fails miserably. No one is concerned about anyone else as each of us gets pelted. A lull ensues for about two seconds, but just about time that I take a breath, I feel yet another assault leaving me feeling helpless. Pillows to the left, to the right, above, and below, it's total madness.

A couple of gorgeous college girls approach me. There's no time to engage in fantasizing about fucking them because they are out for total and mass annihilation. I think they are using me as a target for every boyfriend they dumped. I am losing ground, but my pillow is holding up nicely. The good thing about it is that the pillows of the most aggressive in the mob start to give out providing a bit of mercy to the rest of us. Where are the pacifists, peacemakers, and diplomats when you need them? It's a fucking war with pillows with no truce in sight. Onward we trod, plowing our way across the crowd finding new targets with every step we take. There is no sense ducking because you just get pounded on the back. People love to smack you in the rear and, of course, it's fun reciprocating. Never bend because it seems to be a sign of submission, and you seem to be an invitation for more pillows.

After 30 minutes, our pillows are depleted, and we are too. There is not much left in our pillows. Donna gets us the hell out of there, since we have lost our defense. As long as you have something that looks like a pillow, you are a target, so we drop what's left of our pillows and retreat to the car. We are soaking wet. We use the blankets on the seats, and are absolutely hyper and manic by the time Donna pulls out of the parking lot.

"That was fantastic," says Marcus.

"I got some great hits in," says Donna.

"I think one time I had 5 or 6 people pounding me at once," says Tonya.

"Some were working in tandem, but it was fun," I add.

We continue replaying the event just like old people replaying each hand they finish in Bridge. There was no need to exaggerate the description. If you thought it could happen, it did. I saw more than one guy protecting his dick or balls from frontal assaults. I wondered if this could be an event for revenge between girlfriends and boyfriends who broke up, but it wasn't that organized. It was pure chaos.

On the way back, Donna plays Godsmack's "Touché," and sings the lyrics,

Find a way, A way to be
You're looking down again, Just let it be
And I'd only do for you what you'd do for me
And I only would do for you what you'd do for me

Our state of feeling uncomfortable is pretty high by the time we get back to my house. Sitting in wet clothes can get itchy, but it is worth it. Marcus and I present roses to Donna and Tonya as soon as we get inside the foyer. Then we take out the additional gifts that Marcus and I bought yesterday.

"We had a hard time finding something for you guys," I announce.

"Yeah. It took a lot of shopping," says Marcus.

"OK, let me translate. That means you put it off until the last minute?" she asks.

"Truth?" I ask?

"Truth," interrupts Tonya reinforcing Donna's assessment of our "hard time" shopping.

Marcus The Comedian weaves his story, "We battled the elements, walked miles across deserts, waded through swamps, scaled mountains, fought countless foes as we wondered if we would ever return from our quest for gifts worthy for the damsels that we love."

"What he said," I offer up, "except it all happened around 3 p.m. yesterday.

"So you put it off," laughs Donna.

"I blame it on the schools," says Marcus.

Damn, if Marcus doesn't turn out to be a comedian, he may find work as an actor. Donna hugs Marcus prompting me to kiss Tonya, and then we present them with the smaller of the two wrapped presents.

"We had such a great time showering with you that we wanted to repeat it. It's organic and from a very responsible company," I say trying to remember all of the good shit about it.

"It's great. Aubrey Organics," says Donna reading the label.

"I'd like to try it out now," says Tonya.

"Marcus and I will take the basement shower," says Donna.

I interrupt, "We have more."

Donna and Tonya open the lingerie boxes and are absolutely dumbfounded. I know they didn't think we could come up with such tasteful garments.

"And Tamara didn't help us pick them out. It's all our choices," I say proudly.

"Tamara provided the sizes," Marcus informs them.

"I can't wait to wear mine," says Tonya kissing me.

"This is absolutely wonderful," says Donna looking at Marcus.

Tonya and I retreat upstairs to my bedroom to shower, and we can't wait to take off our wet clothes, so there is no ritualistic, seductive disrobing of each other. We simply peal the wet stuff off. I grab a stack of towels, and then I realize I am seeing Tonya naked with all of her beauty in front of me. I slow down and press my body against hers and kiss her deeply instead of rushing into the shower. The body wash is fun and tingly. We shampoo our hair. I indulge my urges and get Tonya to lie on her back with her legs up in the air as the shower pounds on us. I slip my tongue into her pussy. Then she sits upright. I stand in front of her and she puts her mouth all the way down my dick and pulls off while swirling her tongue round and round. Gawd, I love it. I would love to just stay in the shower and fuck Tonya here, but we manage to pull ourselves apart.

I'm wondering if we will stay in my room, and if Donna and Marcus will stay in the basement when we start fucking, but Tonya says we need to go downstairs to get our Valentine's presents. We wrap ourselves in a towel and go to the basement. The new lingerie will have to wait to be modeled at another time.

Donna and Marcus are waiting and are also draped in towels. Donna and Tonya light four candles, and Marcus turns off the lights. We don't need a cue to get started. All four of us are ready and intensely passionate tonight as usual, but Donna holds us up.

"Before we open the presents we need a warm up," says Donna.