Karen: Valentine Epiphany

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[This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. It is a fantasy and as such, the story may or may not conform entirely with reality. With historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]


LOVE! Will I ever really love? Will another ever love me? I dream of love. I fantasize about love. I want love–a true love and lover. But me, the shy wallflower? All I can do is hope.

My twentieth birthday was yesterday, January 31 and mother asked, “Karen, are you going to the Valentine dance next month?”

“Your kidding. I don’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a date to that annual town dance, mother, you know that.”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Karen? You goin’ to be an old maid on me?”


I stormed out of the room, tears streaming down my face.

All through high school, now two years over thank God, I was the studious one. I didn’t like or participate in sports or much of anything else for that matter. I was straight A for all four years. I guess I was the female version of a nerd. I even had the ugly eyeglasses to go with the image.

Boys scared me to death. They also teased me to death. How could I like one of them, let alone love one of them? They made snide remarks about me and my frumpy clothes, like: “Hi, Granny.” or “There’s the ugly duckling again,” or “That face would sink a thousand ships.” or worst of all, “There’s our favorite hillbilly.” The girls were even meaner in their comments than were the boys. More than once, I fled to the bathroom in tears.

One boy, Carl, tried to be nice to me. He once even apologized for the behavior of the others. Just when I thought he might be really nice, he quite talking to me. I think some of the others got to him and told him to back off–or else.

I did look odd, I guess. I wore loose fitting dresses while other girls were skirts and blouses. I covered up with more loose clothes like sweaters. I wore “granny” shoes and laces. It was what my parents could afford and it wasn’t “in style” of the time. I was also well aware that my southern accent in central Iowa was considered “Hillbilly,'” especially when everyone knew we had moved into the area from a hill town in Kentucky coal country my freshman year.

We had moved to a small town south of I-80 in central Iowa to a farm. We were some fifteen or so miles from Des Moines. The high school population was about three-hundred and fifty students and their behavior was typical of teenagers towards “outsiders” moving into “their town” and “their school.” This was especially true of outsiders as different from them as was I.

In the fall of my sophomore year, I finally gave in and accepted a date. One of the football players asked me to the sochop after the game. I reluctantly agreed. Since I did not attend the game, he had to drive out to our country farmhouse to get me. He pulled into the lane and drove up to the house. He honked his horn, but stayed in the car.

Not much on chivalry, I thought.

I climbed into the passenger seat and sat halfway between Joe and my door. I was very nervous and trembling. I still wore a dress, but one of my Sunday ones. It had a tight collar around the base of my neck, long sleeves, and buttoned down the back. I had a loose, wool sweater over that along with nicer shoes than the ones I wore to school, but still much too “Granny” with laces for the teenage crowd.

Joe looked my way, really more like leered my way and said, “What’s the matter, cold? I can warm you up plenty if you slide over here with me.”

I sure hope that’s not an indication of how the rest of this date is going to go, I thought.

Unfortunately, it was.

There was lots of snickering from kids who observed our entrance into the gym. I had my arm through Joe’s for support. My knees were so weak, I needed the support just to stand. But that put his arm into the side of my left breast and he took full advantage of that by rubbing and pressing into my clothing covered flesh.

That action sent shivers through my body. Don’t get me wrong, I liked those shivers, but they scared me half to death. I’d scarcely touched myself let alone allow anyone else to touch me. Joe noticed the shivers. I feared he’d misinterpret them.

The record was a fast song, too fast for Joe. “We’ll wait for a slow one and then dance,” he said.

Within minutes, a slow song floated out of the phonograph. Joe led me out onto the floor and pulled me into his arms. Close into his arms. His right hand dropped to my waist, but an instant later, it was on my butt. He pulled me tightly into himself. I should say, into the bulge between his legs and ground my mons into it.

Although I didn’t know a lot about sex at the time, I knew enough to know that I was up against a blatant example of a long, hard, vertical sample of raw manhood. I was like a frightened deer in the headlights stranded teens porno of a car. Somehow, though, I kept my cool. I reached down and placed his offending hand back on my waist. I was then free to back off enough to leave some space between us again.

“Don’t do that again, Joe.”

“Au, Baby, you know you like it.”

“No, I certainly do not.”

Yes, I really did, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. My female intuition told me all he was after was sex. He wasn’t really interested in me the person. I wasn’t really interested in him either, not that way, anyhow. All I wanted was to try a date and so far, I found this one very wanting.

Of course, I had to fight him off the rest of the time at the dance. I’d slapped his hands away from my breasts more than once. He pulled me in close a couple of more times again and I had to fight that. He leaned in and kissed me. I bit his lip. It wasn’t a love bite. He just couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off me. Finally, I had enough.

“Take me home, Joe, now.”

“Au, Baby, come on, dance with me some more.’

“Now, Joe, or I’ll walk off and leave you here in front of your friends.”

Sullenly, Joe walked me out and to the car. I was trembling again, but not from nervousness. I trembled with anger and frustration. But I did not need Joe’s arm to stand or walk. Not this time. The adrenaline did that for me. We got halfway to my house. There was a turnoff that led to a favorite secluded spot for lovers.

“Joe, I want to go home, not here.”

“Aw, just for a moment, Baby.”

“Don’t, ‘Baby’ me, Joe, take me home, this minute!”

Before I could say more, the car stopped and the engine went quiet.

Joe looked my way as he leered at me again and said. “Come here, Bitch, you’ve been begging for it all night.”

He grabbed my arm and roughly dragged me over to him.

“Ouch, Joe, that really hurt. Now let go of me.”

Instead, he grabbed both shoulders and pulled me into a tight, hard kiss that really hurt. At the same time, he dropped one hand to my breasts and squeezed really hard.

Uncharacteristically, I hollered, “Ouch. Damn it, Joe, that really hurt like hell. Let go you sex maniac.”

His answer was to drop his hand between my legs and dig it in really hard. I was getting nowhere trying to get away from him. He was hurting me, not loving me, even if that is what I had wanted, which I didn’t. I momentarily relaxed. I could “feel” his leer.

My left hand dropped between his legs. I reached for the bulge at the apex of his legs and squeezed gently. He really was erect. I wanted to disarm him and yes, I really did want to see what one felt like, even through his jeans and underwear.

“Oh, Baby, yeah.”

It was then i balled my fist, moved it forward and then quickly and very hard, into a backhand jab. I landed squarely on my intended target. I got a real howl of pure pain for my effort. And, I was free of Joe’s grip as he grabbed himself and howled yet again. Before I pulled away, I repeated my jab, driving his own hands into his hurting tender parts. I got still more howls of pain.

I slid away from him, opened the door, and stepped out. Before gently closing the door, I whispered quietly, “I’ll walk home from here. Don’t bother calling me again, I won’t be home.”

The walk on the gravel road back to the tarmac road was relatively short. I was even a fair bit of way down the tarmac before I heard Joe’s car throwing gravel all over the place and then screech rubber for some time as he roared back toward town to I assume, nurse his hurt, both physical and mental.

That ended my dating career for well over a year.


It was prom season the following year before I agreed to another date and the reason for mother’s well meaning but hurtful comments. Actually, it was a month or more before prom that Timmy began to pay some attention to me. He was shy too, even more that I. He was a very quiet, nice, unassuming guy. Good looking too.

I was standing at my locker, exchanging books for my next two classes when Timmy stopped for a moment. He stammered a bit at first, but eventually he got said what he came to say.

“Uh, Karen, I’m having real trouble in chemistry. I wondered if I could get you to help me out. I can’t afford to fail that course if I want to get into college. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

Timmy and I were in the same chemistry class section. He sat beside me and we exchange a few words from time to time. Not many, mind you, but we did sort of know each other. I’d never seen him ever talk to another girl, other than his sister, and to darn few guys for that matter. He seemed to be a loner. Shy, as I said.

I looked his way–into those deep blue eyes under his blond head of wavy hair. He returned the look, staring into the depths of my black eyes while he awaited my answer. That’s where I lost it, in those blue eyes of his.

I stammered too. “Uh, y-y-yes, I th-think I can help you out. W-when and w-where, Timmy?” Darn, was I student sex parties porno tongue tied and embarrassed to no end.

“Well, the school library is open for an hour after the last classes of the day. We could go there.”

“Sounds like a plan, Timmy. When?”

“Can we start tonight? That’s only if you don’t have other plans, of course.”

Still shy, not to mention thoughtful and polite. “Yes, I can do that. After school then?”

“Yes, I’ll see you then.”

We’d already had chemistry class the first period, so I wouldn’t see Timmy again until our after school study date. For some reason the day dragged on and on. Timmy and I ate in different lunch periods, so I didn’t see him then and we didn’t have a study hall in common either. As I said, a long day. I really did want to see him again.

Finally, the bell rang, ending the last class of the day. I went to my locker and unloaded everything but my chemistry stuff. It was Thursday, and the only homework I had for the night was my chemistry class. The library was clear at the other end of the building. I walked in that direction.

Just steps later, I was passing the restrooms on my end of the hall. Timmy emerged and bumped into me, knocking my books and folders to the floor. I got knocked sideways and was in a slide down a locker door.. Boy, he sure was in a hurry to get somewhere!

I gave a little and squeaky, “OH.”

Timmy dropped his books and grabbed me under the arms before I could fall any further or get hurt. His wrists and forearms were rubbing the sides of my breasts while we stood face to face and close.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry Karen; I was just in such a hurry to…”

He stopped mid sentance. He also turned beet red in the face. With his light complexion and blond good looks, the red face was highly visible. He knew it, too.

“Yes, Timmy? In a hurry to what?” I teased.

After stammering some again, he said, “If you must know, I was in a hurry to meet you.”

“Just meet with me or see me again? As shy as I was, where that came from I just didn’t know.

“Uh, uh, both.”

“And which do you want more, to meet me or to see me?” Where had my shyness gone? Far away was my hope.

“No comment.”

“You know, you really can let go of me now. I thing I can stand up on my own.”

“Oh, oh yeah,”

I laughed as Timmy turned to hide his renewed red face and picked up my dropped books and papers. The chemistry text, workbook, and work sheet notes made a bundle. Then he retrieved his own books. Tim’s locker was in the middle of the very long hall. We walked there side by side. He left all but his chemistry stuff and we walked off to the library.

We took a table toward the back of the room. There were several others also taking advantage of the space to study together. Two of the others were also couples. With chemistry the topic, we were not shy with each other. Timmy was intelligent and quick to catch on with only a little help from me. The hour flew by.

We had just explained our respective reasons for having achieved eighteen years of age and still only juniors in high School. In my case, I missed a year and a half of school due to illness back in grade school in Kentucky. Keeping me out the second semester to wait for the full year in the fall made me two full years behind in grade level.

It was a similar situation with Tim. In his case, a learning disability cause him to not be promoted on two different t occasions. Once his dyslexia was diagnosed and treated, he did fine. As I said, he was and is quite intelligent. But he ended up two years behind in grade level also.

“Time to close up shop, kids,” said the teacher’s aid, monitor.

Darn, time to go already. I was quite disappointed. Timmy frowned.

“Can we do this again tomorrow night?” We have that big test on Monday and I’m not ready for it yet.”

My heart skipped a beat and I paused just a moment before I answered in the affirmative.

“But we’ll have to find somewhere else, Timmy, this library’s not open after school on Friday nights. How bout the public library?”

“Good, but how will you get home?”

“I can call Mom, both now and again tomorrow night. She’ll come in and get me.”

Believe me she will, especially if she knows it’s because I’ve been with a boy, I thought.

Timmy walked me to the public pay phone near the school entrance and office. Mom would be right in. She sounded giddy when I told her I’d stayed after school to tutor a classmate and she found out it was a boy.

School dragged even worse the next day. We finally got out and found our way to the public library. But we spent a scant twenty minutes studying chemistry and the next three hours, straight through the supper hour, talking about ourselves to each other. We immediately felt comfortable and at ease with each other. Needless to say we began dating. We only had five weeks before prom.

My mother was ecstatic. I finally had a boyfriend! We dated once a week in his father’s 1950 submissive cuckolds porno Studebaker. It was twelve years old. But one of the things I found out about Timmy was that he wanted to be an auto mechanic. He was in the auto mechanics classes in school and he kept the old Study running in tip top shape. His dad had a much newer car for his own use.

We were both still too shy to initiate anything sexual. I sat next to Tim, as I now called him, and he put his arm around me. But that was it. His arm remained chastely on my shoulder and my hands remained clasped chastely in my lap. In the four dates before prom, it took until the fourth one for Tim to even kiss me. That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t initiated the kiss. Neither of us pushed it any further.

Mother was so enthralled that I was finally dating and going to the prom, she outdid herself in scraping together the money it would cost for me to go. Darling Daddy came through with enough to make up the shortfall in Mother’s little stash of cash.

First came the clothes. A new red velvet and strapless cocktail dress. with all the accessories. On the outside, those included black patent leather shoes with one inch heels, matching black vinyl clutch purse, and a single strand necklace of faux pearls. There was also a single strand pearl bracelet. The necklace was matinee length and fell to the top of my generous cleavage.

Oh yes, cleavage. I certainly did have cleavage. My normal school clothes certainly wouldn’t indicate it, but I had very generous breasts for my body. Not overly large, but still, very generous. Ordinary bras uplifted me enough to provide lots of cleavage had I chosen to display same. But the staples thing for the cocktail dress gave me even more. Matching red panties, garter belt and red stockings made up the inside or underside garments.

God, I was showing enough bare shoulders and chest skin that it embarrassed me to death. But I was also proud of my body and willing, at least this time, to make them look and drool. There was more to me than met the casual eye and the bummers at school were about to find that out. Maybe, just maybe, I was coming out of my shell.

The makeover included a trip to the beauty shop. Hair first. I had a complete redo. Waist length went to shoulder length with a roll at the bottom. Narrow bangs in front over my wide forehead and lang face. Even without makeup, the face that stared back at me in the shop mirror was that of a young Lauren Bacall of the late forties or early fifties. I had pictures in my room of her and lots of other movie stars of that era to prove it.

Oh yes, one other thing. Dad coughed up the money for a pair of contact lenses for me. No more ugly eyeglasses. It was the final icing on the cake that was the new me. WOW!

Getting ready on prom night was more than I could stand. Actually, it was more than Mother could stand which in turn made it difficult for me. I was nervous anyway and Mother made me even more so. Until just over a month previously, she thought there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d get to the prom. She was so high strung, she nearly fainted. In fact, I almost wish she would have so I could have had some peace to get ready.

I was just ready when I heard Tim drive into the yard in the faithful old Stude. I came down the stairs from my room just as Tim entered the hall where the stairs ended. Dad’s mouth fell open when he caught site of me just over halfway down. Tim’s jaw also dropped. Mother just beamed. I think Daddy was about to say something about my state of dress. One glance from my mother was enough for him to remain silent.

Tim was stammering again when he tried to complement me. He didn’t look all that bad himself. He stood six foot six and was dressed in a sky blue tux and frilly white shirt. A dark blue cummerbund circled his waist. With his light complexion and blonde hair, broad shoulders, the whole package looked like a Greek or Roman adonis. My jaw almost dropped.

Tim offered me his arm. I took it. Then, out popped Mother’s camera. We posed at the foot of the stairs while we indulged my parents. Tim whispered we had to go to his house for a repeat performance before the camera there. That’s why he set the time to pick me up so as to leave sufficient time to get to the banquet in the high school cafeteria on time.

The evening was beyond belief. In the car on the way to the school, Tim put his arm around me as usual. But this time, after a couple of hesitant tries, he dropped his hand to the verge of my cleavage. Not in it, just right above the necklace that hung in the way. Once he got on the main road into town, I moved his hand. I moved it down on top of my right breast over top of my dress. Tim turned read and moaned once.

“Leave it there. When you have to shift, you work the clutch. I’ll move the shift lever.” It was a column, stick shift. Automatics were available back in 1950 but this wasn’t one of them. However awkwardly, we managed the cooperative driving. We only stalled out once.

Tim had to remove his hand to restart the car, but he was hesitant to replace it until I reached for it and guided it back where I wanted it. The first time I put it there, I was outwardly calm and straight forward about it. Inside, I was all aquiver. This time, I was more calm inside. Not completely, but a little. The jitters now were from arousal, not nervous tension. Oh, alright, maybe some of both.

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