Teenage Exploitation Sex Comedy: Chapter Eleven - Sex Stories

Teenage Exploitation Sex Comedy: Chapter Eleven

Finally, the long day Makennah and Allen had spent at the Nine Cedars Country Club pool had drawn to an end. Makennah hurriedly straightened up the lifeguard office and logged some paperwork while Allen helpfully swam out and set up the lane markers for the adult swim period beginning after Makennah’s shift. He gathered up his things from the locker in the men’s room and met Makennah in front of the pool house, looking impatient. It was 3:50 p.m.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Makennah said, grabbing Allen by the wrist and pulling him at a trot over to her Corvette. When they got in, behind its tinted windows, they started making out. It was a scene of complete and total young lust, the engine idling, the sounds of kissing and soft moaning, and hands impatiently groping every tender part of each other’s bodies as the classic rock station blared a Foreigner song.

Makennah peeled out of the Cedars’ parking lot and headed back on the freeway toward town. But she blew past the exit that would take them to their neighborhood in Calloway Meadows. Allen pointed at it with a puzzled look on his face. “But … you missed—“

“We’re not going there yet,” Makennah said, cutting off the query. She hit the next exit, rolled a stop sign at the end of the ramp, and pounded down the old two-lane highway just fast enough to not get a ticket. Passing by a diner and a pawn shop, it dawned on Allen where she was taking him.

“The Sleepy? We’re going to the fucking Sleepy Inn?” Allen ...

... said, incredulous. Why wouldn’t they just fuck in her house or his bedroom? “Why are we going to a motel?”

“Because even if my Mom or your parents don’t catch us fucking,” Makennah said, “a college junior hanging out with a high school senior is going to raise questions I don’t want to answer.”

If you only knew,Allen thought.Your Mom would probably want to watch.

Makennah ordered Allen to wait in the Corvette while she booked the room for two hours, plenty enough time for Allen to plow her through the creaky mattress and still make pillow talk. She asked for a room upstairs and on the rear of the building, away from the main parking lot and facing the hills rather than the highway. Makennah paid for the room with a twenty, having left a check in the petty cash box back at the lifeguard office.

Makennah came trotting out of the office with a silly expression underneath her mirrored shades, dangling the room key from its fob for effect. Allen bolted from the passenger’s side of the Corvette, leaving his damp beach towel on the seat. Holding hands, they scampered around the back of the Sleepy Inn and up the stairs to their room. It was the so-called “bridal suite,” No. 319, the one with a coin-operated, magic-fingers-style vibrating bed.

The room was even sleazier than Allen had imagined. He’d heard stories about hookups and trysts at the Sleepy, but obviously had never been party to one himself. The room was dark and decorated in 1970s earth tones to match, lots of ...