Jane

But I didn't see Johnny.  Instead, I saw Sammy, the fellow who had beaten up our jr. high school principal.  And he was pissed.  

He had fallen for a girl with Jane Mansfield titties, only she didn't look like Jane Mansfield at all.  She had dirty blonde hair and was heavy with stubby legs.  But somehow one night I ended up with her in a vacant house where a bunch of us had gone to fuck around.  I didn't want to be with her preferring any of the other three girls.  But what I got was Jane.  

Everyone was in one room or another hugging and munching, so there wasn't much else but to do the same.  And so I kissed Jane and tried to explore her very big breasts which were really much larger than my mother's whose own breasts were ample.  I tried slipping my fingers beneath the tight band at the bottom of the brazier, but she didn't help.  Indeed, she was resisting.  And so I tried harder, kissing her more and breathing deep, hot breaths into her ear canal hoping to drive her wild with desire.  And she was going crazy, moving and moaning right there on the carpet when she suddenly stopped and grabbed my hand and looked deeply into my eyes.  She was trying to say something with those eyes, I thought, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was.  What the fuck.  I'd seen it in bad movies before.  

"I love you," I heard myself say hollowly, and with that the bra was free as was I to my heart's content.  She was only a teenager, but I still have never seen up close any titties bigger than those.  

And that was it.  In a little while, we all left the house and went up the street to a fast food hang out where a little bit later I said goodbye.  

Now I was faced with Sammy.  I had to think fast, that was for sure.  It was mid day and there was nowhere to run.  He would kill me for sure.  

"I don't like Jane," I pleaded, but as soon as I said it, I realized it would sound like an insult to a man in love.  

"I mean, she's a nice girl, I like her as a friend, but I don't like her for a girlfriend."  I didn't know what I was saying.  I just figured the longer I talked, the better chance I had of getting out of this alive.  I'd seen Sammy hit a fellow once before, and I was dead certain that if he hit me like that, my head would just explode.  

"Did you feel her up?" he shouted.  

"NO!" I said.  "Absolutely not."

"She says you did."  

What the fuck kind of girl was she, I wondered, telling him that.  Was she trying to get me killed? Sure she was, I thought.  That is what I get for not calling her.  Then another thought came to me.  

"She's just trying to make you jealous," I said.  "She likes you.  She just wants to see what you will do." 

I could tell he liked that, but it was not certain that it would keep me from taking a beating.  She couldn't like him, I thought.  That is why she told him.  But Jesus H. Christ, why rat on me?  

"I don't want you around her any more, you hear me?" Sammy said, still puffed up but less revved.  "If I hear you've called her or gone over there, I'll make you piss blood."  

"No way, no way.  I wouldn't do that.  I wouldn't.  You're my friend.  I wouldn't do that to a friend."  

That one is easy, I thought.  That was an easy promise to keep.