Me and a friend were checking out this sweet young cutie’s delectable, apple-shaped ass. She had these tight black jeans on that showcased some of the sweetest curves I had seen in quite sometime. Damn if she didn’t make the Nova-jang want to pop out and play like a psychotic hand-puppet. She turned her head to look at something and I noticed that she was a lot younger than I originally thought. I could tell that underneath all of that makeup and lip gloss was a teenage girl trying to get some attention. The Novanator came to his senses and the Nova-jang died down.
“Damn if they don’t keep looking older and better all of the time. They didn’t dress like THAT when I was in high school,” I said in amazement.
My friend, on the other hand, didn’t care that this pretty young thing was barely 16. He wanted to go up and lay down some game. He turned to me with a serious face and said, “Mr. Nova, would you bang her out if an opportunity presented itself?”
I laughed. Then I thought about it for a moment: Could I use my Nova-style and get away with it? I came to my senses again, knowing full well that even for me it would be a bad idea. “Look,” I said, “she may seem like a playful little fuck-bunny, but deep down inside she is still a confused teenager. Sure, you might get a chance to fuck her, probably because she wants to piss off her parents and make her friends jealous. But what if someone found out? What if she suddenly decided that ‘Hey, this guy is taking advantage of my sweet little innocence! I think I should tell Daddy so he can call the cops and make a report. I don’t think I washed out that T-shirt I used to clean up the cum he spurted on my face. Daddy, can that be used as evidence?’ Then in court the judge will stare you down and pass a sentence, sticking you in a pen with Julio and his five fingers. No way, dude! Remember this lesson: 16 will get you 20.”
“20 what, Nova?” my dense, horny friend asked.
“20 years, my Novanite. In prison.”
He looked disturbed. I think he really wanted to pound this girl – no matter what. I had to impart some wisdom on this pent-up lad so he wouldn’t do something stupid and ruin the rest of his life.
“Ok,” I said. “It’s as plain as the vein in my shlong that you want her ass. Well, I have a way for you to get it.”
“How is that, Nova?”
“She looks 16, right? Well, put her on what I like to call the Two Year Plan.”
A bright light bulb suddenly shone over his thick skull. “That is a great idea, Mr. Nova!”
I put my hand on his shoulder and said to him in true Jedi master fashion: “You have just taken your first step into a larger world.”
“So what do I do now?” he asked.
“First thing I would do is become friends with her. Make her feel like you are the Cool Older Guy. Then she will start to dig you. She might become attracted to you because you’re different from the acne-faced douches she sees in high school. Get her e-mail address and start chatting with her online. That is a safe way to do it; she’ll feel comfortable. Just don’t mention anything about sex – EVER! After awhile she will come forward saying she wants to take the Wet Willy Ride. Once this happens, have a little talk with her. Explain to her the consequences of what will happen if you two do it. She’ll eventually understand. Then you give her your contact information and say ‘Hey baby, give me a call in two years.’ She’ll believe you to be the coolest dude on the planet and remember you no matter which stupid high school senior fucks her in the meantime. She will always dream about the cock that got away.”
“Damn, Nova! That is a great idea! You are truly a God amongst men.”
I gave an understanding smile. “I know, my young apprentice. Now go and talk to her right now, with the power of Nova-style on your side!”
Well, the kid went over… and got rejected. As I knew he would. See, there’s no such thing as a failsafe Two Year Plan. Sure… it might work every once and awhile. It might even work half the time. But if you succumb to temptation just once – 16 gets you 20. Like Poppa Nova used to say, “If you hang around the barbershop long enough, eventually you’ll get a haircut. And if you fuck around with underage girls long enough, eventually your ass will land in jail – and you’ll be getting conjugal visits from some black dude you don’t want one from! Now bring me my whisky, you worthless little kid.”
Good times.
Showing posts with label high school love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school love. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Trifecta
All of mankind’s greatest discoveries begin with an idea, my beloved Novanites. This idea becomes a dream – a goal to strive for – an obsessive desire that many would die to accomplish. And this sexual discovery of mine is no different.
It is a secret hidden deep within the minds of spooge-spewing adventurers across the world. Monks in distant temples lock away its secrets in dusty catacombs that no mortal can comprehend. All who know of its existence cling to the knowledge like it’s the last bastion of all that’s perverse and good.
Listen closely: The secret is called The Trifecta, my Acolytes of the Hummingbird. I first realized its importance when I was 17-years-old. I was banging out this hot 18-year-old brunette in her parent’s living room late at night when the headlights of a first-edition SUV flashed through the windows. The girl got scared: “We got to put our clothes on! My mom will be so pissed if she sees us fucking on her floor! They just steam cleaned it – and my Mom HATES IT when my boyfriends leave pecker-tracks on the carpet!” (I was beginning to sense that my sweet innocent princess wasn’t a virgin.)
“Ah, the carpet does smell fresh! I compliment your Mom on her housekeeping. But hold on, I can finish quick!” With that I started pumping faster.
“But you’ve been reaming me out for over an hour!” she whined, in a mixture of pleasure, urgency, and affinity for her carpet’s sanctity.
“Don’t worry, my buxom buttercup, I have been reading this book I found at the library, and it allows me to cum at a moment’s notice. It’s called Jizz at Will with Nary a Spill by Dr. Eli Hummer.” One second passed. “Ahhhhh, there we go!”
After I was done we grabbed our clothes and raced for the basement. As we finishing getting dressed, the door opened and her parents walked inside.
“WE’RE HOME!” her mother cried out. It is typical of parents to announce their presence – for they know that evil is always lurking when their teenage daughter is left alone. And yes, I was evil that night! I also left some of that evil on the carpet. Oh, well. I could jizz at will… but I hadn’t read the “Nary a Spill” chapter of the book yet.
After we composed ourselves, my girl and I headed upstairs. The parents were unpacking groceries. The father never paid any attention to me and probably thought I was just another in a long line of suitors for his daughter. I would be gone within a month – two months tops. Why bother getting to know me? Smart man.
The mother took a liking to me. She gave me little smiles here and there. I always thought she wanted the Nova-jang.
I played the good boyfriend and told my girl I had to go home. We walked outside and before I opened my car door I said: “Your Mom looks good. How old was she when she had you? You two could be sisters.”
Girlfriends HATE that shit. But I wanted the answer.
“She had me when she was 16. God, what a fucked-up way to put things, Nova! She is like, totally old and stuff. Sisters?! Ew!” She started to walk away.
“Yeah, Ok, don’t worry about it. But don’t forget, tomorrow is Sandwich Day in the cafeteria. I think this week’s special is roast beef on rye. But the cafeteria ladies don’t know how to make a decent sandwich, so could you make one for me? I like turkey, pepper-jack cheese, mayonnaise, mustard, onions, green peppers, pickles, and jalapeno peppers – on a Kaiser roll. Thanks, Sweet Tits!” I affectionately called out to her as she was nearing the front door of her house. She opened it and slammed it behind her.
As I drove home in the first Nova Wagon (a yellow masterpiece with wood paneling), I started thinking about my girl’s mom. If she was 16 when she gave birth to my buxom beauty, and now her daughter was 18… that would make her… carry the one… 34. Not a bad age to bang out!
Then I also thought about how all of the dudes at school always talked about fucking their girlfriend’s moms. It was the topic of many stupid lunchtime debates – whether or not you could score with someone’s mom, or if that car in Knight Rider was real. (And I STILL think scientists could build that car if they really wanted to, and I don’t care what ANYONE says. But I digress.)
To nail a hot babe AND her Mom would surely make you a high school deity. Unfortunately, most of these adolescent fantasies are fueled by the skewed caricatures of Hollywood films. (Besides, most of my numb-nut classmates hadn’t eyed a piece of adult ass since they wandered into the wrong dressing room at J.C. Penney’s. What the fuck did they know?) But teen-Nova’s sexual-musings were something different. Mine were fueled by the spirit of an adventurer!
I knew it would be AMAZING to Nova-Style a daughter-mother combo, but I was interested in taking it one step further. And I had to work out the details...
I pulled up in my driveway and raced up to my room. I passed by my parent’s door (locked again, with animalistic sounds echoing throughout the house) and headed straight for my desk. I had to start messing with some numbers (and you know how much I hate mathematics) to come up with the ultimate equation.
18 (my girl’s age)
+ 16 (her mother’s age when my girl was born)
= 34
Now, if my girl’s mother’s mother was anywhere between 16 to 20 when she gave birth to my girl’s mother… then Grandma would be in the 50 to 54 age range.
Still perfectly fuckable!
“Wait!” I said out loud. I could hear my father banging out my mother in the next room. It was disturbing, but for some reason the headboard clanking against the wall jarred something loose in my mind. I had to get past a certain wall that young men put up for themselves that limits sexual possibilities.
Young men have this crazy belief that fucking a Grandma is bad.
I had to get past the fear of knocking the cobwebs out of older snatch. I had to overcome my prejudice against dusty, wrinkly, calloused pussy. I realized there are plenty of benefits to Granny-Loving, such as the lady’s experience in the sexual arts, and not having to worry about her popping out any new kids. As to the negatives... well, you just don’t go bragging to the fellas about how you banged out some 54-year-old cooter.
Unless you complete The Trifecta.
When I was 17 it came to me. The Trifecta takes it all the way, past the primitive “Mothers I’d Like to Fuck” (commonly referred to as a MILF) fantasy and into an almost Zen-like state of perfection. After wrestling with mathematics I discovered the Trifecta equation – with the help of Novanometry, if you will:
Bang the daughter + Bang the mother + Bang the grandmother = The Trifecta.
Have I ever achieved The Trifecta? Not yet, my Novanites, but one day I shall.
I never had the chance to get into the panties of the 18-year-old girl’s 34-year-old mother. I broke up with the bitch when she forgot to put pickles in my turkey sandwich. (Stupid cunt.) But if I did, I would’ve made a V-line straight for the grandmother’s nursing home and put on the Nova-charm:
“So Granny, have you heard of the Hummingbird? Pop in your teeth and spread your legs!”
“Ok, Sonny, Ok. But first, put a doily on the floor. We don’t like to stain the carpet in my family.”
“I know, I know…”
It is a secret hidden deep within the minds of spooge-spewing adventurers across the world. Monks in distant temples lock away its secrets in dusty catacombs that no mortal can comprehend. All who know of its existence cling to the knowledge like it’s the last bastion of all that’s perverse and good.
Listen closely: The secret is called The Trifecta, my Acolytes of the Hummingbird. I first realized its importance when I was 17-years-old. I was banging out this hot 18-year-old brunette in her parent’s living room late at night when the headlights of a first-edition SUV flashed through the windows. The girl got scared: “We got to put our clothes on! My mom will be so pissed if she sees us fucking on her floor! They just steam cleaned it – and my Mom HATES IT when my boyfriends leave pecker-tracks on the carpet!” (I was beginning to sense that my sweet innocent princess wasn’t a virgin.)
“Ah, the carpet does smell fresh! I compliment your Mom on her housekeeping. But hold on, I can finish quick!” With that I started pumping faster.
“But you’ve been reaming me out for over an hour!” she whined, in a mixture of pleasure, urgency, and affinity for her carpet’s sanctity.
“Don’t worry, my buxom buttercup, I have been reading this book I found at the library, and it allows me to cum at a moment’s notice. It’s called Jizz at Will with Nary a Spill by Dr. Eli Hummer.” One second passed. “Ahhhhh, there we go!”
After I was done we grabbed our clothes and raced for the basement. As we finishing getting dressed, the door opened and her parents walked inside.
“WE’RE HOME!” her mother cried out. It is typical of parents to announce their presence – for they know that evil is always lurking when their teenage daughter is left alone. And yes, I was evil that night! I also left some of that evil on the carpet. Oh, well. I could jizz at will… but I hadn’t read the “Nary a Spill” chapter of the book yet.
After we composed ourselves, my girl and I headed upstairs. The parents were unpacking groceries. The father never paid any attention to me and probably thought I was just another in a long line of suitors for his daughter. I would be gone within a month – two months tops. Why bother getting to know me? Smart man.
The mother took a liking to me. She gave me little smiles here and there. I always thought she wanted the Nova-jang.
I played the good boyfriend and told my girl I had to go home. We walked outside and before I opened my car door I said: “Your Mom looks good. How old was she when she had you? You two could be sisters.”
Girlfriends HATE that shit. But I wanted the answer.
“She had me when she was 16. God, what a fucked-up way to put things, Nova! She is like, totally old and stuff. Sisters?! Ew!” She started to walk away.
“Yeah, Ok, don’t worry about it. But don’t forget, tomorrow is Sandwich Day in the cafeteria. I think this week’s special is roast beef on rye. But the cafeteria ladies don’t know how to make a decent sandwich, so could you make one for me? I like turkey, pepper-jack cheese, mayonnaise, mustard, onions, green peppers, pickles, and jalapeno peppers – on a Kaiser roll. Thanks, Sweet Tits!” I affectionately called out to her as she was nearing the front door of her house. She opened it and slammed it behind her.
As I drove home in the first Nova Wagon (a yellow masterpiece with wood paneling), I started thinking about my girl’s mom. If she was 16 when she gave birth to my buxom beauty, and now her daughter was 18… that would make her… carry the one… 34. Not a bad age to bang out!
Then I also thought about how all of the dudes at school always talked about fucking their girlfriend’s moms. It was the topic of many stupid lunchtime debates – whether or not you could score with someone’s mom, or if that car in Knight Rider was real. (And I STILL think scientists could build that car if they really wanted to, and I don’t care what ANYONE says. But I digress.)
To nail a hot babe AND her Mom would surely make you a high school deity. Unfortunately, most of these adolescent fantasies are fueled by the skewed caricatures of Hollywood films. (Besides, most of my numb-nut classmates hadn’t eyed a piece of adult ass since they wandered into the wrong dressing room at J.C. Penney’s. What the fuck did they know?) But teen-Nova’s sexual-musings were something different. Mine were fueled by the spirit of an adventurer!
I knew it would be AMAZING to Nova-Style a daughter-mother combo, but I was interested in taking it one step further. And I had to work out the details...
I pulled up in my driveway and raced up to my room. I passed by my parent’s door (locked again, with animalistic sounds echoing throughout the house) and headed straight for my desk. I had to start messing with some numbers (and you know how much I hate mathematics) to come up with the ultimate equation.
18 (my girl’s age)
+ 16 (her mother’s age when my girl was born)
= 34
Now, if my girl’s mother’s mother was anywhere between 16 to 20 when she gave birth to my girl’s mother… then Grandma would be in the 50 to 54 age range.
Still perfectly fuckable!
“Wait!” I said out loud. I could hear my father banging out my mother in the next room. It was disturbing, but for some reason the headboard clanking against the wall jarred something loose in my mind. I had to get past a certain wall that young men put up for themselves that limits sexual possibilities.
Young men have this crazy belief that fucking a Grandma is bad.
I had to get past the fear of knocking the cobwebs out of older snatch. I had to overcome my prejudice against dusty, wrinkly, calloused pussy. I realized there are plenty of benefits to Granny-Loving, such as the lady’s experience in the sexual arts, and not having to worry about her popping out any new kids. As to the negatives... well, you just don’t go bragging to the fellas about how you banged out some 54-year-old cooter.
Unless you complete The Trifecta.
When I was 17 it came to me. The Trifecta takes it all the way, past the primitive “Mothers I’d Like to Fuck” (commonly referred to as a MILF) fantasy and into an almost Zen-like state of perfection. After wrestling with mathematics I discovered the Trifecta equation – with the help of Novanometry, if you will:
Bang the daughter + Bang the mother + Bang the grandmother = The Trifecta.
Have I ever achieved The Trifecta? Not yet, my Novanites, but one day I shall.
I never had the chance to get into the panties of the 18-year-old girl’s 34-year-old mother. I broke up with the bitch when she forgot to put pickles in my turkey sandwich. (Stupid cunt.) But if I did, I would’ve made a V-line straight for the grandmother’s nursing home and put on the Nova-charm:
“So Granny, have you heard of the Hummingbird? Pop in your teeth and spread your legs!”
“Ok, Sonny, Ok. But first, put a doily on the floor. We don’t like to stain the carpet in my family.”
“I know, I know…”
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