Jack and Jill - The Legend Continues

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


By the time I was thirteen, Jack and I knew a lot more about life, and we were madly in love, or that’s what we thought it was.

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Jill's Story

Submitted: September 11, 2019

Reads: 13

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Submitted: September 11, 2019

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Jack and I were friends since early childhood; starting when I was six, and Jack was seven. Actually, we were more like buddies for the first five or six years. We lived on the same dirt road—not very far apart—but didn’t really become friends until I started school. We rode the school bus and sat together almost every day. I think it worked out that way because I was the only girl in the neighborhood who wasn’t related to Jack. Or so it seems. . . .
Jack already knew my older brother, AJ, who was a year older than Jack. Jack and his cousins, and AJ, hung out together and did what seven and eight year old boys did when they weren’t in school.
Sometimes, after school and on weekends, Jack and I hung out at the bridge near my house where the road crossed a little creek. We talked about anything and everything, and especially how much we loved each other—at six and seven—and how we would grow up and get married and have a couple kids. At that age, I didn’t even know how babies were made. Jack thought he did, and tried to tell me, but as it turned out, he had no clue until much later in our relationship.
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The next few years flew by quickly. During that time Jack learned to play piano and accordion. His father would drag him around to bars, usually bars owned by Polish friends, and Jack would play Polish music. The bar owner would pay him five dollars and all the Pepsi Jack could drink. Bar patrons would tip him; a quarter or 50 cents here and there added up to another five or ten dollars. But Jack hated it. He hated being in the bars and hated being around his father when he was drinking. On the other hand, ten or fifteen dollars for a couple hours of making music was easy money.
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Accordion music was very popular in our community with a large Polish and Italian population; and AJ decided he was going to play the accordion. After a year or two of lessons, he was good enough that he and Jack could play duets. I felt left out of the fun; plus, I wanted to be around Jack—on stage or off. Jack also played drums and taught me to play them. After a short time, I was good enough—dad bought a set—and we had a trio. By then, I was almost twelve and quickly becoming a young woman. Too quickly as far as I was concerned. But Jack seemed to be enjoying it. With only a one year difference in age, he and I started puberty at about the same time, and it was a dangerous period in our lives. No pun intended! Puberty was an unknown topic in our young lives.
By the time I was thirteen, Jack and I knew a lot more about life, and we were madly in love, or that’s what we thought it was. Being Italian and French, I was fully developed before age twelve, with full-sized boobs and two fields of fully developed very dark hair. I was hot to trot and Jack was quick on my heals, and quick on everything else.
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As a hobby, my dad built stock cars for racing, and there were always disabled vehicles sitting around the property. Jack and I did some heavy petting in some of those vehicles, especially one—an old truck dad left parked in the yard. The truck didn’t have an engine—it was used for spare parts for the stock cars. The front seat of that old pickup truck was one of our favorite locations for heavy petting. It was long enough and wide enough for what we found the courage to engage in. The seat didn’t need to be very wide because Jack was always on his back and I was always on top of him. Anyone walking by could not see us lying on the seat—without the weight of the engine the front of the truck sat very high, so we had some privacy. Not much—but some.
Jack was tall and thin, and wore tight jeans. When he was aroused, it was very obvious. I was much shorter than Jack, and very light and shapely, and wore loose fitting shorts, so Jack could easily put his hand in from the bottom. It took a lot of courage, or raging hormones, to do the things Jack and I did, and in the places and conditions we did them.
Mom and dad always took me and AJ to the local races, and frequently invited Jack as payback for his help building engines for the cars. I wonder if he would have been invited had they known the heavy petting that was going on in one of ‘lifeless hulks’ on our property. My dad was short, but because of the work he did, he had arms like a wrestler. Had he known what was going on, Jack would have been dog meat and I would have been locked up for life.
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Our house—on the corner of two dirt roads—used to be an old red-brick three-room school house with a door at each end. It was like the old shot-gun houses in the south; the three big rooms were lined up with a door at each end of the house, and you could open both doors and shoot a gun through one door and out the other without hitting anything. Of course, we never did that. I don’t think dad even owned a gun, and I never saw a gun in the house.
The original three rooms became six rooms. The big room was split to make a small living room—what we now call a family room—and a small bedroom for my parents. The center room was split to make a dining room and a bedroom for Grandpa. The first room was split to make a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small room for big brother, AJ.
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So, where was Jill’s room? Jill didn’t have a room; I slept on a cot in a corner of the dining room. Yes, you read that correctly—on a cot in the dining room. For some reason, I usually had to go to bed early, very early, before 8:30 p.m. Sometimes Jack was still there; sometimes he would sit at the dining table while I was on my cot and we would chat.
One of those times vivid in my memory, it was late spring, and I was covered with a single bed sheet. My parents never told Jack he had to—or should—go home. They were in the living room, engaged in their favorite pastime—watching TV and sipping wine. Their backs were toward me and they couldn’t hear us very well with the TV on. Jack and I knew they would stay in that position for at least the next hour. They always did. They both worked during the day and were always tired by this time every night, and this was their way of unwinding. Jack always left for home well before nine p.m.
Lying on my stomach on the cot, I put my arms out in front of me on the pillow, and put my head on my arms, looking at Jack. Stretched out like that, and the cover pulled back a bit, I raised up a little, looked at Jack, and whispered, “Rub my back, Jack.” My side and part of my breast were exposed, and it was then that Jack realized I was nude, at least from the waist up.
Jack was stunned, and I laid there giggling to myself. With all the heavy petting we did outside the house, we never touched each other when my parents were home—never! And, to this particular day, we had never touched each other’s private parts, not even close. Jack was afraid of my dad—something about dog meat, you know,and I was afraid of both parents.
I had to whisper it again, “Rub my back, Jack. Rub all the way down the middle.”
Jack finally understood the orders and carried them out, dutifully. Not knowing how to massage—we learned that fine skill later on—Jack gently, timidly it seems, rubbed down the middle of my back and stopped short of my waist.
“Farther, Jack. Keep going!” I whispered, panicking that he might stop before I could feel what I wanted to feel.
Jack slowly slid his hand all the way down to the back of my thighs, and I was in heaven. Realizing I was totally nude under the covers, Jack was way beyond heaven. I could hear his little gasp when his fingers touched the back of my thighs. I let him hang around down there for a few moments, and I did feel what I wanted to feel.
Then, afraid he might go for the gold, and I might not be able to keep quiet, I whispered, “Go back to my shoulders.”
Jack was very obedient—I still like that in a man.
Did I mention how wickedly sinister I felt having Jack touch me like that with my parents, whom I could clearly see through the table legs, in the very next room? I never, ever, mentioned this to anyone until confessing now for the very first time. It still, to this very day, gives me a lot of secret. wicked pleasure that Jack and I never got busted. In fact, Jack and I never busted anything together.
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One day, when my parents weren’t home, we got brave and allowed ourselves to lie together on the sofa. That was a near-fatal mistake; we should have kept that activity in the old pickup truck. No one could see us in the truck if we were in our usual position. But, the house being like a shot-gun house, it was easy to come into the kitchen from outside and see into the dining and living rooms.
We were in the heat of it; Jack’s fingers were deep in the grass in the land near the forbidden valley, and I was working the buttons on his jeans. I had jeans on, too, and they were already unbuttoned, and open as far as they needed to be. About the time he was ready to test my waters—we were both very sweaty from the unscheduled activities in the hot and humid weather—I heard the kitchen door open.
My mother had arrived home unexpectedly early.
Jack and I had two things going for us—obviously doing it wasn’t ever going to be one of them—I was fast on my feet, and Mom was near-sighted just enough that she couldn’t see what was going on in the living room. She needed glasses to drive, and they came off as soon as she parked the car in the drive.
I was off that sofa, across the room, and into mom’s room in a split second. Fortunately, all my clothes were still on me, and it only took a few seconds to button my jeans and smooth my hair—the hair on my head. By the time I came out of the bedroom, a few seconds later, Jack had put himself back together and was sitting naturally—but panicky—on the sofa, waiting for Mom to drop the hammer. Mom spent a few minutes in the kitchen putting groceries away, and then joined us in the living room. She never suspected any hanky-panky, or at least she never acted like she suspected any hanky-panky.
For some reason, that was as close as Jack and I ever got to being caught, probably because it was the closest we ever got to consummating our love.
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We did have a hot session at the drive-in theater with my older sister and her friend. It was just the four of us and Jack and I had the back seat to ourselves. I was fourteen and Jack was fifteen. Since it was my sister, and not my mother, Jack and I got very brave in the dark of the back seat. We thought that she, being my older sister, might not tell on us, even if she suspected anything.
Jack had his hand inside my jeans, again deep in the forbidden valley, this time testing the waters. He was massaging what I later learned was one of the very best things to turn a girl on. I massaged him through his jeans. He made me stop, and whispered, “I don’t want to come in my jeans.” I didn’t know what that meant, but I stopped.
Jack continued massaging that sensitive spot and it was driving me crazy. Suddenly, I jerked, a rush came over me, and a soft "Ahhhhh . . ." passed through my lips. It felt so wonderful; I was beside myself. However, after the "Ahhhhh . . ." sensation ceased, his massaging seemed to be tickling now, and not a pleasant sensation. I wanted him to get out, but I also wanted him to stay as long as he didn't move his fingers, so I let him stay.
After a short while, the tickling sensation was gone, and I told him to massage it again. It wasn't very long when I jerked again, felt the rush, and let out another “Ahhhhh . . .” This time the jerking was more intense, the rush was twice as wonderful, my sigh of satisfaction was much louder, and it got my sister’s attention.
She turned and asked, “You guys okay?”
“Yeah. . . .!”  Oh . . . Yeah! We were glad we had a blanket to cover us, it was dark and she couldn’t see what we were doing. Thinking back, I think if Sis's boyfriend hadn't been working, she would have been in the front seat doing the same thing Jack and I were doing in the back seat.
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By that time we were at the peak of our relationship, our parents were no longer supportive of us being a couple, or even friends, and they became openly vocal about it. Our close friendship and torrid romance tapered off, and eventually ended. Although my mom and dad liked Jack, they didn’t like Jack’s parents; and Jack’s parents felt the same about my parents. I never knew why, but I think Jack figured it out much later in life.
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Jack’s home life was chaotic—today we would call it dysfunctional—he quit school, hung around a while trying to find work, and eventually joined the military. Ironically, as much as it disrupted our friendship, it was the very best thing for Jack. It’s funny though—although very good looking, but shy—Jack never dated anyone else in school; only me. But, once he put on that uniform he was a very handsome young man. When he came back into town on leave, he could, and did, date any girl he wanted.
During one military leave, after he had been in the military awhile, he did hook up with a new girl in town who went to our school, a beautiful red head. She was a popular cheerleader and was going steady with a popular athlete at the time. Her family, consisted of two brothers and three sisters, and a stepfather, moved into the old house that Jack’s grandparents had lived in, right next door to Jack’s parents and sisters. After she met that man in uniform, she dumped the athlete. She wasn’t out of school a month when they married, and she left town with him, never to return to live there again.
I found out later that there was much more to the story than what was visible on the surface. But . . . at least she wasn’t pregnant. . . .
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Although it broke my heart, I managed to survive. I corresponded with Jack while he was in boot camp, and a few times after that, but I never again expressed my love for him or any emotions about our past love. Well . . . that’s not quite true. But, I graduated the same year as Jack’s new girlfriend, married a school mate soon after, had children early, and moved on with life.


© Copyright 2019 Jen Lewis. All rights reserved.

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