Chapter 11 – A Little Organ Music

Posted: 2011-03-05 05:36:03
Modified: 2011-03-05 05:36:03


I woke before the alarm without my normal erotic dream but with wood. Yesterday began to flood into my brain, but I put it on hold until after my run and morning routine. I started to grab my usual running outfit and said to hell with it. If the Greeks and Romans, even the Scots, could do it bare assed, I could. Socks and running shoes plus my music box in an armband.

After stretching, I headed out of the driveway at a comfortable pace. It was weird feeling the wind all over me as I ran, though real easy to keep a steady pace with the metronome bouncing out in front of me. Fortunately, it was a bit brisk so Junior’s friends had retreated some.

I hadn’t paid a lot of attention to my route, some mornings were like that. This morning was… WOW!! I had a selection of Bach organ music set up to time my run. E. Power Biggs. Fantastic. Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor (BWV 582) was playing as I noticed I was coming up on Becca’s house. Jason was just coming out of the driveway and had turned to head the way I was going.


“Hi, Luis.” He was running in place while I caught up. “Mind company?”

“If you don’t mind being seen with a lineman.”

“I’d rather run with you than into you!” We ran on a bit at a good pace for both of us when he said, “nice outfit.”

“It’s the latest. You should try it.”

“I just might tomorrow.”

Again, a comfortable silence as we ate up another half mile.

“You had a big impact on Bec yesterday.”

“Is that good or are you going to pound me?”

He gave a quick laugh. “Good. Very good.”

We both went back to our running and consumed another half mile.

“We all had a good talk when she got in last night. Actually, more of a joyous cry. She reconnected with our parents.”

“Fantastic.” Neither of us was winded. Good. We’d be in shape Friday.

“Be careful with her today, she might freak.”

“I will.”

“She’s got it bad for you.”

I damn near tripped. Recovered from the near fall, another half mile gone.

“Time for sprints. See you at school, lineman!” Thank you, Jason. I needed time with my stories right now.

“Later, Jason.” He took off like a rocket. I went to full speed as well. I actually hung with him for about 30 feet, then he easily pulled away. When I rounded the next corner he was already out of sight. “I guess that’s why he’s a running back,” I mused out loud.

I misjudged the route I took and ended up going a couple of miles further than I had planned. That’s a first. Maybe that would help the rubber legs I was experiencing yesterday. Half an hour later I was emerging into the kitchen from my basement hideaway.

“Morning, Momma.” We exchanged kisses. I stopped for a second when it hit me she only had on an apron.

“Morning, sweetie. Like my outfit?” She did a full turn and a modeling pose.

“You look great. New uniform for the restaurant?” I winked.

“You know, I might. This feels good.”

“Business would definitely pick up!” I faked a Groucho leer complete with raised eyebrows and pretend cigar. The Marx Brothers are very popular around our house.

“Just don’t say ‘grow.’” She used her fingers to make the quotes. It looked hard to do with a spatula in her hand.

“MOMMA!” I blushed. I actually blushed. Damn it.

“Sit and eat, tease.” She gave my arm a gentle pat as she handed me breakfast.

“Thanks for last night.” I sat and started on my calorie laden plate.

“It was my pleasure. I really like Rebbecca and I meant everything I said. Capisce?”

“Capisci.” I sat and tore into breakfast. Poppa came in with the paper. Momma was overdressed by one apron. Benny Goodman was serenading us in the background. Big Band, breakfast, and good banter. Perfect.

“Morning, son.” He tossed me the paper.

“Hi, Poppa. I like your suit.”

“Latest in Board Room fashion.” He pretended to straighten his non-existent tie and then snapped his non-existent lapels.

Momma joined us with their breakfast, sans apron. We chatted about the world, as usual. The food slowly disappeared while topics flowed naturally. The World. Politics. The Economy. I loved this time of day with my parents. I was an adult in their eyes and treated as an equal.

“How was your first day in the Program, son?”

“I could say it had its ups and…” Momma hit me! She was laughing though. Margie’s entrance broke up that conversation before it went too far downhill.

“Morning, sis.”

“Good morning, Really Big Brother.” She had gotten the memo about the uniform of the day.

“Is it cold in here?”

“Huh?” I pointed to her erect nipples.

She and Momma both hit me. “Ow! Poppa, save me!”

“Son, you dug that hole. I suggest you either get in it or start throwing dirt back at them.” They were still thumping me.

“Okay, Pax!” Margie and Momma looked at each other and they punched me, hard, in opposite biceps. “Shit!”

“Pax,” my sister quickly declared.

“Pax and watch your language young man.”

“Sorry, Momma.” I hung my head in penance.

“Back to my original question, now that sanity once again reigns in the Contadino household. How was the first day?”

Margie went first. Ladies first and all that. That’s her story to tell. My take? She really enjoyed the experience (exhibitionist) and the support she received from her partner, Luke.

“Plus, Really Big Brother helped all of the females in the program.”

“How so, sweetie?”

“Well, Momma, the story around school is that RBB established early that twisting nipples half-off and unwanted insertions are…” She pulled herself up, voice went deep, “NOT REASONABLE.”

“More growl, please.” I insisted. They ignored me.

“The insertion guy apparently has a new temporary tattoo about the size and shape of RBB’s hand as well.”

“Son, violence at school?” I hoped my scowl Friday is half as fierce.

“No Sir. I just removed his hand from Becca with emphasis. He went at her from behind, the coward. No request, just tried to cram into her dry.”

“Ouch! Is she okay?” Momma asked.

“She’s fine. She had her hymen and it didn’t break, but she was in pain for a while.”

“She HAD her hymen?” Margie’s a smart girl. Too smart at times. Like now.

“Yes,” I felt myself turning red. Again. Or had I not bothered with fading?

“As in past tense?”

“Yes.” Is embarrassment terminal?

“And you and she…” She poked one finger in and out of a circle of fingers on her other hand. Hey, you know us Italians. Tie our hands behind our backs and we can’t speak.

“Not yet.” Damn this girl. And my parents doing nothing to stop it. To think, a few minutes ago I liked them.

“Then how?” I could tell by looking at her face that I wasn’t going to get by with simple answers.

“How what?” A little offense of my own. Lame, yes, but something.

“Would you just tell me how she lost her hymen?” She waved her fist at me.

“Let me see if I remember. Horseback riding? Nope. Gymnastics? No. Bicycle? Nah… My finger? Yep.”

“She didn’t want Junior?” I arched my brows. How did she know the name? Oh, High School Rumor Mill. Duh!

My parents looked like they wanted to ask a question, so I blocked them by responding quickly. “I think she does, just scared. She wanted me to use my fingers to open her and get her ready.”

“Well, your fingers are bigger than most penises.”

“And how would you know, young lady?” Poppa asked.

“The Program.” That shut him up for a minute.

“Doesn’t sound romantic.” So, Momma was getting into my sex life as well.

“It was, actually. She had just finished the painting she showed you last night. I made love to her with my mouth and hands. When she got to her peak, I broke right through. She barely felt it.” I can’t believe I’m telling my family this! I know we’re open with each other. But, this? Open is one thing. These are things I wouldn’t tell my friends. I would share them with Becca, though.

“Well, let’s hope the main event is more romantic.” Poppa said with slight grin and a faraway look in his eyes. Momma had a wistful look on her face as well.

“What was your first time like, Momma?” Margie asked, drawing Momma back from her memories.

“A bit awkward. Rushed. Fumbling. Painful at first. Confusing. Scary. At the same time, I knew I wanted to do it again.” She grinned at Poppa and turned to Margie. “Why don’t you help the boy instead of teasing him?”

“Okay, Momma.” I watched as she shifted gears. Smooth. “Really Big Brother, make it special for her. Every girl remembers her first time for the rest of her life. Don’t rush. Make sure she really enjoys herself. Lots of hugs and cuddles. Be patient. And, with that monster between your legs, be careful!”

“I plan on it. I don’t want to scare Becca off. Not like other girls.” The sight of a date screaming in horror ran through my mind. Cindy…….something.

“Well, it’s not like she hasn’t seen it! Ever deflowered a virgin before?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Had Momma left the oven on?

“Oh, you’d know, Mr. Big.” Thanks, Momma.

“Poppa, I’ve noticed that we’re not dissimilar in size. Anything you can tell me?”

“Yes. Beware the overreacher.”

“Sir?” I admit it. I was confused.

“No need to be formal right now, son. Overreachers are those that think they can, but can’t. And, when they can’t they find a way to make it your fault.”

Before I could ask a question, Momma jumped in, “Luis, women are built to give birth. You are smaller than a baby, trust me!” We all laughed. “Even though, at times your father doesn’t feel that way. That’s when I know I’m not as ready as I should be.”

“Son, be patient and get your partner ready. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

“Exactly. And, you need to be sure she’s ready. She might be willing before then and it will hurt.” I let Momma’s words sink in. My analytical self grasped the notion that I was responsible for my partner’s pleasure. But, her preparation? Yes, I had to do my job. But, when would I know better than her when she was ready?

“Ditto,” Margie added. I added her comment without finding any resolution.


“Yes, Momma?” Pulling my attention back to the moment.

“Remember, the most sexual organ is the mind. Be empathetic.” Ah! Now it started to make sense. Some. I’d need to think on this and see.

“RBB, I heard another rumor that I didn’t believe.” Great, what is Margie going to come out with now? Does blushing cause sunburn?

“What’s that, sweetie?” Ah, women. They stick together. Although, Poppa was showing interest as well.

“I understand someone took Junior all the way down.” She giggled at me. Both ovens, the gas cooktop, hell – the grill must have been moved into the kitchen. I’d just run more than five miles and hadn’t sweated like this.

“Junior?” Momma and Poppa both asked at the same time. Their question from before. They weren’t in the High School network so of course they didn’t know. Duh! Another private part of me gone.

“Ah… When I first started showering in the locker rooms, my team mates named my penis Junior.” Poppa about fell off his chair laughing.

“Mine got nicknamed Giovane. Italian for Junior!” That got us all laughing, hard. My side was starting to hurt when I looked at Poppa and he nodded his head and we laughed harder. Okay, maybe not so bad as I thought.

When things settled into controlled chuckles and giggles, Momma asked Margie, “Take it all the way down. Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Deep throat?” Margie was turning a bit red, admitting she knew about it.

“Dio Santo! So young?” She got a faraway look in her eyes, then gave Poppa ‘the look.’ It bothered me thinking that my parents were going to have sex. They’ve been open with Margie and me, yet the thought of them actually doing anything…

“Okay, okay. I’m in the hole this deep. It happened when I asked for relief.” Perhaps, overnight my skin decided to be red instead of its usual Southern Italian, slightly olive complexion.

“You didn’t force yourself on her, did you?” Poppa asked, he was very serious suddenly.

“No sir!” So I told them about Susan, Shashana, and the Lottery.

I finally made it out alive and on my way to school early. We’d all still be there if Momma hadn’t had to get to the restaurant and Poppa hadn’t needed to prep for a conference call. Margie rode with me. When I hit the player in my car, appropriately Aerosmith’s Livin’ On the Edge came on. Yep. Sounds like my week so far. What could possibly happen now?

“So, Really Big Brother, how goes the week, for real?” I swear she can read my mind. Fortunately, she’s usually too busy to bother with me.

“Weird. And that’s one day. More hands have been on Junior than in my whole life. Plus, I’ve got a girlfriend. You?”

“Actually, I like it. I guess most people know you’re my brother, so it’s been respectful. Sometimes a little too!” She chuckled.

“Well, the girls haven’t been shy around me. Becca got upset yesterday afternoon because no one was touching her in the showers after PE. She’s come a long way in a day.”

“Maybe too far.” She thought for a second while I thought about what Jason had said earlier about Becca being fragile today. “She’s really nice. You’ve done well. But, be careful today.”

We got to school and split up. I went to the gym for a hard workout on my upper and lower body since I’d been lax the day before. I was just getting ready to press 160 kilos when my spotter, Mike Holloway, asked, “man, what’s it feel like?”

I lay on the bench and scooted under the bar and asked, “What’s what feel like? 350 pounds? You’ve done it before.”

“No, dickhead. Going around naked all day.”

“Actually, it’s not that bad.” I reached up for the bar and got a good grip taking the weight down my arms not my hands.

“What about… Junior?”

“Well, he seems to be the main attraction.” I planted my feet and settled my back into the pad.

“Yeah, thanks for setting that standard so high for the rest of the football team.” I realized he wasn’t joking. Shit. I focused, exhaled, and lifted the bar off the supports. Slowly brought the weight down to my chest drawing in energy with my breath. Blowing out, I smoothly moved the weight up to full extension. Held it. Then did nine more reps. My arms were beginning to feel it on the eighth lift. I powered through. At the end of the tenth, I put the bar back on the rest. Mike, without a word, took 20 kilos off the bar. Silently I did another 10. Another 20 kilos off and a final 10. Mike wasn’t talking. We usually traded friendly insults, talked football, or encouraged each other. SHIT. Not before East!

I got up and wiped the bench down for him. I set the weight back to 160 kilos as he chalked his hands and settled down on the bench. He pulled off the rests and fully extended. When he went down and kissed his chest, I put my hands on the bar. I didn’t push down, but I didn’t let him push up.

“What’s eating you? We can’t go into East like this.” I growled at him.

He was straining to lift 350 pounds of weight and me. Finally, he looked up. “Sorry man. Envy. Stupid, I know. But the girls were all over you because of Junior. I’m scared shitless I’ll be ignored when my time in the Program comes.”

I helped him lift, two finger help that is. Encouragement without taking any of the weight. We did this for each other all the time. I talked him through each lift, like I normally would. We went through the same routine I had done. When he finished and stood, he put out his hand and we shook.

“Luis. Sorry.” I could see sincerity in his eyes, yet a hint of bad energy was still there.

“For what?” I had more edge in my voice than I wanted. Breathe, Luis, breathe!

“Blaming you for my size.” Why this week of all weeks?

“Dude, have you ever had a woman complain?” I looked at him hard.

“Ah, no.”

“I’ve had ‘em run away screaming when they see Junior for the first time. That’s no fun.”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

Still looking at him intently, our hands still gripped from the shake, I said, “Mike, right now, we don’t need any bullshit between us. We’ve got a job to do this week. We have a goal to achieve. You and I can deal with this, I know we can. We just can’t let the rest of the team feel it. Okay?”

He thought for a minute. He firmed up his grip. “Done. Let’s get ready to crush those bastards.”

We finished our workout carrying on as normal while others from the team joined us. While we set out for homeroom, that 20 wasted minutes every morning, I tried to get my head around this week. Prepping for a big game was tough enough. Having problems by being forced to be naked just added to the stress. Well, I could deal with it. I had to.

I walked out of the gym whistling and noticed it was the main theme from Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (BWV 565). The old horror movie organ music. How did that end up on my mind?