128 lines
7.0 KiB
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128 lines
7.0 KiB
Plaintext
[Chapter 2 Seeing What Develops]
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No darkroom at home, and the school closed until monday, I put my
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precious roll of black and white film in a safe place and tried to
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make the time pass quickly. I'd taken the photos on Friday night, and
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Saturday I had a date with Theresa Mills. I thought about cancelling
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it, since my mind was filled with distractions, but then I remembered
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how nice a distraction Theresa could be, and I took her to the Lake.
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Theresa was Catholic, so her limits were pretty firm, but she had nice
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tits and let me fondle and suck them while she jacked me off. All I
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could think of as she stroked my cock was Bill Arnold's dong in Ann
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Macafee's hand, and later in her mouth. I'd asked Theresa for a
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blowjob before and been turned down, but I asked again. Her refusal,
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the sweet lie that it was ("I'd love to suck this nice dick for you,
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but it's just too big for my little mouth"), was all the more
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frustrating. I wanted to imagine it was Ann sucking me. Oh well. I
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told her I was going to come and she increased her tempo and brought a
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wad of kleenex to the tip to catch the flow. Such a well-prepared
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girl.
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I rubbed her tits and french kissed her, two things she never seemed
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to get enough of, and she jacked me off again about a hour later. It
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was a nice date, but it did little to relieve my delicious tension.
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All I wanted to do was develop that roll of film.
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Sunday crawled by, and I hardly slept that night. I went in to school
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as early as I could, waited for the darkroom to open, and cut my
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morning classes. I was aware that my haste could ruin this priceless
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piece of film, so I deliberately made myself slow down. I went into
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the blackout booth and loaded the reel with the film. Twice my
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fingers slipped - loading a reel by hand is no easy trick under the best
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of circumstances - but I finally got the strip into the can and delevoped
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it with painstaking attention to time and temperature.
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The negatives were perfect. They were so crisp, so defined. I could
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not believe my luck. I was aware of how dangerous it was to print
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anything when at any moment an instructor or a student might glance
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over to see what I was doing, but the darkroom was pretty empty and I
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just had to make a contact sheet at least.
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I let the negs dry, then cut them into strips of six. I laid them
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onto some glossy stock and made a contact print. I developed the thing
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face down, maddening though that was, and squeegied and dried it that way.
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I did not look at it until I was alone in a stall in the boys room.
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What a treasure. Ann's look of concentration as she stroked that
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cock. Ann's pretty lips stretched around that thick, bent cockhead.
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Ann's averted eyes and submissive posture as the come dripped off her chin.
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I drew out my hard dick and came in four slow strokes, my come pouring
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into the toilet bowl. If only that could be my dick, I thought. If
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only he had convinced her to fuck him, or even just to strip - I'd love
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to have photos of those tits and that pussy...
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In the calmness that follows a good orgasm, I reflected that I could
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get in real trouble if anyone saw these photos. Of course, there was no
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way to link them to me unless they were found on my person, still...
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Then I grinned. I grinned probably the biggest grin of my life. Me
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get in trouble? Not anything like the trouble Ann could get into. I
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had her. Boy, did I ever. A vast and limitless universe of
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possibility opened before me. I had her taking coke and giving head
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to a sleazebag. "Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you," I
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said quietly to myself. Such a warm feeling to anticipate the future,
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when such vistas of pleasures lie ahead.
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I quickly returned to the darkroom and made a second contact sheet,
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dangerous though that was, then put the negatives and one sheet into
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an envelope and went home at lunch to hide the package inside the air
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vent grille in my room. I did not hide the second contact sheet, though.
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I had big plans for that one.
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I wrote on the back of the sheet:
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"Dear Ann. These photos will enjoy a wide distribution to the police,
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your parents, and the shool population at large unless we can reach an
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agreement. Imagine hundreds of copies of the picture with Bill
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Arnold's dick in your mouth or Bill Arnold coming on your face, dist-
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ributed all over campus. Imagine pictures of you snorting coke being
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sent to the cops. Imagine a copy of this contact sheet finding its
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way to your father's office, or to your home and your mother. If you
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wish to avoid all these things, meet me at the Fish and Chips shop in
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the Sanderson Mall today after school. We can discuss my terms. Don't
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worry, I can be reasonable, but don't imagine I am bluffing. I have
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nothing to lose by publishing these as 8 x 10 glossies."
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I folded the sheet into four and put it in an envelope marked "Open in
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Private!". I went back to school, cut another class, and, when I was
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sure I was not being observed, slipped the envelope into her locker
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through the vent. At first it stuck, and I paniced a little, but a
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little back-and-forth action made it slip right through.
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I waited until the next bell rang, then stood across the quad looking
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through a telephoto lens at Ann's locker. The hubub of the between-
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class activity hid me perfectly, and after two minutes or so I spied
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her heading toward her locker. She looked just as she always did,
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aloof and superior. I could not believe that such a debasing scene
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did nothing to change her attitude, but she clearly still held herself
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"above it all."
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Just for a few moments longer, Ann, I thought.
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She opened her locker and the envelop fell to the ground. I must have
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gasped a little when another girl picked it up, looked at it, and
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handed it to her. She said something, probably intended to be witty,
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but Ann frosted her with a snooty look and the girl walked away. Ann
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read the envelope, closed her locker, and walked over to sit on the
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planter that surrounded the flagpole. Checking to see that no one was
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near, she opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet.
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She must have opened it to the photo side first, because her face went
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white, her eyes grew large as saucers, and she clasped the sheet
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immediately to her chest to hide the side where the photos where. She
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looked around again, frantic, then noticed the writing on the reverse
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side. She stuffed the sheet back into the envelope without reading
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it, then ran off to the girls room, looking a little ill.
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I chuckled to myself. Ann looked about as un-superior as a person
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could, stumbling frantically off to the bathroom clutching sex photos
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of herself. I knew she was going there to read the note, to scan the
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photos again in disbelief. I knew she was scared and suffering, and
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in the darkest reaches of my heart I felt great. She was, I guess, a
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symbol for all the elite people of the world, to me. She was the
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embodiment of all the things a normal person never gets to have.
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Well, this time it was going to be different. Very, very different.
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