Teenage Angst

        Teenage Angst

 Where I come from, teenage boys have already grown into adulthood, and are therefore sexually mature.                              

The phone call came as Donald was sitting in the only decent chair in his house.  

 " Hello!"   

" Hi, Donald, it's Brian."   

"Hi, Brian, what's up?"  

"Are you doing anything this weekend?"  

"Not really. Why?"  

" It's my sister's fifteenth birthday, I wonder if you want to come to the party."  

"Yeah, sure, when, and what time is it happening?"  

"Saturday night, don't come before eight, oh and if you can get your hands on some liquor, go for it, okay. My parents are away for the weekend, so we can have a blast without any stupid adults looking over our shoulders every minute."  

"Sounds great. Who else will be there?"  

" Well, Sheila's invited a bunch of girls from her class at school. So, you never know, you might be lucky and get some rumpy-pumpy, if you know what I mean?"  

" Excellent, thanks for inviting me; see you then."  

Rumpy-pumpy? Who's he kidding? Not that it matters anyway. I wonder if the other guys are like me, boasting all the time about their exploits. Christ, I'm sixteen, and I haven't even plucked up enough nerve to kiss a girl, never mind rumpy-pumpy or whatever the hell it's called.  

"Mum, Brian's invited me to his sister's birthday party on Saturday night; it's okay if I go, isn't it?"  

" Will Brian's parents be there?"   

"Of course."  

"Okay, but make sure you behave yourself; you know I worry about you. You know Donald, it's not easy being a single mom now that your dad is no longer with us."  

"Oh. for heaven's sake, mom, give it a break. Dad died almost five years ago. We manage fine. You need to let me grow up sometime. It's not as though I've ever been in trouble."  

" I know, Donald, but I'm still your mother, and it's not easy for me, even if you think it is."  

Shit! Will she ever get off her poor me, pity wagon?  

 Saturday afternoon arrives, and Donald is in a state of heightened apprehension. He always gets this way when he knows he is going to be in the company of girls. A shy boy, he is a rather plain average-looking teenager. His hair was cut short because of his mother's insistence that a well-groomed man is a well-behaved man. Nothing in Donald's features stands out except for a small birthmark on his forehead. More than anything, his acute awareness of the birthmark is why he has no experience of the opposite sex.   

 As Saturday evening approaches, Donald knows his mother won't be back from her job as a teller in the local Safeway for at least another hour. He opens the cupboard that stands next to the television; He sees the special dishes on the cupboard shelf, only to be used whenever they have important company. In his lifetime, Donald had never seen this elusive unique company in his house. Almost hidden behind the dinner plates, on the top shelf, stands an unopened, half bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label Scotch Whisky. Feeling guilty, although not guilty enough, Donald takes the bottle from the cupboard and slips it into his jacket pocket.   

Mom arrives home at 6 pm and puts their Hungry man Salisbury Steak TV dinners into the oven. Donald doesn't bother to ask what's for dinner. Every Saturday night, they eat a Hungry Man Salisbury Steak Frozen Dinner. Nothing ever changes in this house enters Donald's thoughts.   

"Mom, please don't wait up for me; I won't be back until the party's over."  

"When will that be, Donald? You know I worr,"   

"Oh! Stop it, mom. I told you not to wait up. I'll be back the second I open the front door."  

"Okay, but you know I won't sleep until I hear the front door opening."  

" That's your prerogative, mom, but it won't make me come home any sooner."  

Stepping out of his house, Donald walks fast toward the bus shelter so he won't get too wet. Unfortunately, the rain is beginning to pick up from a steady drizzle toward a downpour. Finally, the bus arrives, and he finds a seat next to the window. Noticing the rain becoming heavier, he wonders if it's worth the journey. He then visualizes his house with the drab, aging, heavy, Victorian furniture and his drab, aged, heavy mother and thinks to himself, 'I can't wait to get out of the house and away to college.'  

He alights from the bus and walks the fifty or so yards to Brians. Donald can hear music playing from inside the house. He knocks on the door, then presses the bell for a few seconds to make sure someone inside will be able to hear him. Brian's sister Sheila opens the door. She is wearing a pretty green dress that accentuates the female curves of her teenage body. She is also wearing a seductive smile on her face.  

"Well, hello Donald, welcome to our house of ill repute."  

"Hi, Sheila," Donald replies, handing her the half bottle of Scotch. Entering the den, he spots an empty armchair, settles into it, and then surveys the surroundings. Someone has put a Johnny Mathis record onto the turntable, and he sits listening to the music. Moon River is playing, and Donald closes his eyes to heighten his listening enjoyment. Someone is tapping him on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees Sheila smiling down at him.  

"So, do you always sleep at parties?"  

 Without thinking, Donald reaches up and puts his arms around Sheila's tiny waist. He pulls her toward him and goes into an almost catatonic state as he feels her give way. The next second she is sitting on his knee, her summer dress hitches up, exposing most of her thigh and stocking suspenders. Sheila then takes Donald's hand and places it over the top of her stockings. Donald feels the suspender connecting clasp beneath his fingers, and his hand freezes to the spot. He feels his heart pounding against his chest, his embarrassment heightening acutely aware, his erection is threatening to burst through the material of his trousers. Sheila leans in closer, lays her hand on top of his penis, and starts to rub her hand against it. She then tugs at his shirt and manages to pull it out from the waistband. Donald's lower back tingles as Sheila's left hand explores the area. Next, her fingers reach for the cleft of his buttocks.  

Bending her head close to his, Sheila proceeds to put her lips on his. She pushes her tongue between his lips forcing his mouth open. As her tongue searches every area of his open mouth, she squeezes his penis hard. Donald's body jerks with uncontrolled spasms; his sperm shoots out and soaks through his pants, dampening Sheila's hand. She immediately jumps off him crying out,   

"Yuck, you disgusting pervert." Confusing emotions overcome him. Donald leaps out of the chair and rushes out of the house and into the rain, bucketing down. Thankful that his pants are now well soaked from the rain, he walks as fast as possible to the bus stop. He wonders just what the hell happened and how he can face Brian and the other kids in school on Monday.  

 Arriving home, he opens the front door with his key. As he removes his jacket and hangs it on the halfway coat rack, his mother calls out.   

"Home already Donald, has the party finished so soon?"  

"No, mom, it's still going, but I thought of you sitting here by yourself and decided to come home."