Teenage Exploitation Sex Comedy: Chapter Eleven - Sex Stories

Teenage Exploitation Sex Comedy: Chapter Eleven

... coin box … “What the fuck is this thing?” he asked.

“Oh, that,” Makennah snickered. “It’s a vibrating bed massage. Apparently this was all the rage in the 1970s.”

“Does it still work?” Allen asked. “I guess so,” Makennah said. She got up and went over to the desk where she left her zippered wallet, returning with a quarter. She put it in the coin box and pressed a button. The room was filled with a loud hum as the bed vibrated against the wall. Allen felt like he was inside a paint mixer.

“Th-i-i-i-i-is i-i-i-is th-e-e-e-e-e-e du-u-u-u-u-m-best th-i-i-i-ing I-I-I-I ha-a-a-a-a-ave e-e-e-ever s-e-e-e-en.” Allen said, deliberately letting the vibrating bed distort his voice. Makennah started laughing. It was like speaking into a box fan. “I sound like the aliens fromV: The Final Battle,” Allen joked.

“Oh my God, the Lizard Lady!” Makennah laughed. “I’m not going to eat a mouse, baby.” She threw a leg over Allen and smoothed her hand over his chest, nuzzling into the side of his neck and lightly kissing him along his jawline. Allen felt like such a stud. All those years of humping his fist desperately, wondering if he would ever lose his virginity, and now in the span of one week he was getting more pussy than Frank Sinatra.

Even though it was clear Maria had fixed him up with her daughter, or at least made the connection, to dispose of a potentially scandalous relationship, Allen didn’t mind. When Makennah went back to USC at the end of the summer, he figured he ...

... would be right back in Maria’s bedroom after soccer practice.

Makennah got up and turned on the television set. It was one of those closed-circuit TVs that showed cheesy softcore porn — in this case, a couple were on a bed humping each other, but both were wearing blue jeans. "They don't have cable here?" Makennah asked, rhetorically. The bed massager came to an end after 15 minutes. Allen realized he was actually quite thirsty now. “Babydoll,” he said to Makennah, “I really could use a glass of ice water.”

“Oh, for sure,” Makennah said. She knew where the ice and vending machines (which, of course, sold cans of tonic, club soda, and bloody mary mix) were. “Wait here, baby, I’ll go get us some.” She stood up, put her basketball shorts on, then slipped into Allen’s tank top, clutching at the front to cover her tits as best as she could. Makennah grabbed the room key and left for the vending area on the lower level. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was about 4:40 p.m. Plenty of time to spare.

The ice machine was one of those upright deals that dispensed one bucket at a time, to keep folks from raiding an entire bin all for themselves. Makennah put the ice bucket in the bay, slid its clear plastic door down, and punched a button, which deposited a full bucket of ice. But naturally the goddamn plastic door got stuck as she tried to lift it back up.

“What the fuck,” Makennah muttered.

Then a young woman’s voice behind her said tartly, “You have to jiggle the door a ...