My Times With Chloe, Part One — 1972

Honey West

So far the plan was going well. Chloe and I had neatly scaled the tall wooden fence that made the Robinsons’ back yard seem like a compound. It was an impressive back yard too. A beautiful patio and cookout area, neatly trimmed lawn and a huge oak tree that must have been a thousand years old. It was the tree that was our destination for it held an equally impressive treehouse that Tommy Robinson and his dad built a while back. The wooden slats that were hammered into the side of the massive oak served as the only way up and I was impressed at the solidness of the structure as we stealthily climbed it. Once inside the roughly second-story fort we rolled down the curtain that served as a door and we rolled up the bamboo shade to the window that looked out over the Robinson house just enough to see if anyone had spotted us. I was a little scared and thrilled and Chloe was singing the instrumental theme to Mission Impossible the whole time. The house was quiet and we giggled at our successful raid. Our plan was going well so far. Our mission: we were going to see Tommy Robinson’s penis in exchange for showing him our goodies. This probably sounds a bit silly but you have to understand that this was 1972 and we didn’t have free computer porn or cable TV yet or even easy access to sex magazines. Chloe and I were only eleven and our sex education was the book we had stolen, Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask. Lord knows we believed everything we read in it and years later would crack up at the things we believed. But right now it was a bible to us what with the world being inhabited by hippies and free love and a sexual revolution that we didn’t want to pass us by. It was dusk when we entered the treehouse and it was getting too dark to see inside. I found some candles and we lit one and searched for the walkie-talkie that was supposed to be there. Once we found it, Chloe whispered into it for Tommy to answer. No response.

“Maybe he’s still at the dinner table,” I suggested after more tries were unsuccessful. “Let’s wait a bit.”

We sat in the light of one candle and smiled at each other, excited that we were doing this.

The funny thing is Chloe and I didn’t like each other when we first met. My name is Anna. My father was a Navy man stationed at the nearby base and I was therefore looked down on by the civilian kids. Unlike Navy housing, Chloe lived in the Brady Bunch’s neighborhood much like Tommy Robinson. Whereas I was a gawky girl with no tits and even less hips, Chloe was well-bred gorgeous, with ample boobs for eleven and a sexy figure. The bitch, I thought. One day on the school bus I saw Chloe and her circle of friends snickering at me and as I was in a pissed mood already I confronted them. It seems they thought my dress amusing. I should have expected it, I guess. My Mom had made it for me and while she meant well she tried for the Mod look. Unfortunately the Mod look had died years earlier but she made it for me and that was good enough. Chloe made a disparaging remark about Mom’s talent as a seamstress so I slapped her. She in turn slugged me. We had to be pulled apart and there we were in the principal’s office scratched and bruised and glaring at each other. I wanted to move to another town.

A week later I was sitting at the school bus stop trying to untie a knot in my sneaker when she walked up behind me. Great, I thought, more trouble.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“What!” I was ready for a fight.

“N-nothing,” she said and started to turn away. She stopped and came back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your mother was dead. We were just… being stupid.”

I didn’t say anything. She didn’t leave. We caught the bus and by the time it dropped her off at her home we had made plans to go to the base theater. Soon we were inseparable. We shopped, did homework even babysat together. I hung with her group of friends and it was cool but more and more it was just Chloe and me. Being a Navy brat and moving around a lot I was not used to having a steady friend. It was great. We looked like an odd pair: I had long hair and a flower child look (I liked to pretend I was Julie from the Mod Squad) and Chloe was well developed with thick wavy hair that always cried out ‘Establishment’. We were like Melanie and Trish Nixon together. But it didn’t matter. We were buddies. Whenever we agreed to do something daring together we would signal our mutual agreement to the task by linking our pinky fingers together. It was our secret signal.

Naturally the subjects of boys and sex were important to us and we became more daring in our search for knowledge. The other night, I had sneaked into my father’s sock drawer and borrowed his old Playboy magazines for us to look at. In my bedroom we would be in awe of the perfect bodies that these playmates had and amused at the complete lack of pubic hair.

“That’s called ‘airbrushing’,” Chloe announced, “they’ve all got pubic hair but Playboy doesn’t seem to like it so they airbrush it out. See, I’ve got mine started already.”

With that she stood up and unzipped her jeans and tugged her panties down just far enough to show the top of her peach fuzz bush. I recall my heart jumping a beat as she did this and I wanted to show her everything I had just to get her to pull those panties the rest of the way down. I didn’t want to be perceived as ‘weird’, though and before I could volunteer anything we heard my Dad enter the house and rushed to put his magazines back. Later, as we danced to Bobby Sherman or David Cassidy 45’s and tossed about Tiger Beat magazines, Chloe decided that we should practice being with boys. We started with dancing. With slower records, we started in formal stance, taking turns leading, when Chloe pulled me close. “This is how boys’ll do it.” She softly hooked my arm around my back and rested her chin on my shoulder. The closeness surprised me and the feel of her cushiony breasts as they pressed into me caused my nipples to harden. I wasn’t sure if she could feel them through my tye-dyed t- shirt but then it occurred to me that I could feel hers. Perhaps embarrassed, we wound up falling on the bed, giggling and tickling each other. Laying there, we fell silent and Chloe announced that we should now practice kissing.

“Pretend I’m Tommy” She said and leaned in to meet my lips. I was a bit stiff and closed-mouth but I felt her tongue trace my lips and I parted them to allow her entrance. Our kisses were softer than I could have imagined and I felt my young pussy getting wet. We took turns ‘being the Boy’ but basically we were just making out. Somewhere along the way it had stopped being a lesson and we were simply becoming lost in each other, just two sets of velvety lips sliding together. I was vaguely aware of the downstairs phone ringing but then I felt Chloe’s hand rubbing my arm as we kissed. Soon we were both caressing each other and our hands began brushing the tips of our breasts. I felt electricity when she cupped my little boob.

Dad suddenly knocked on the door and we jumped thirty feet high. Chloe’s mother had called and wanted her home for dinner now. Okay, Dad, we chimed.

“Wow”, I giggled, “We going to have to find some boys soon, Huh?. That was fun.” Chloe nodded and I knew we were both blushing. I had been masturbating guiltily for a few years up to that point but that night I discovered just how multi-orgasmic I could be. I had practically made myself sore while thinking about Chloe’s tender and passionate kisses. Girl-girl love still had a sort of mild deviant stigma to us back then and we focused back to boys because it was ‘normal’.

Soon Chloe admitted that she and Tommy had been flirting and making out a couple of times and they had made the plans for this evening. It was to be Tommy only (no friends) but she was allowed to bring me along for ‘company’. Tommy, being our age and wanting to further his sexual knowledge was more than agreeable to the idea.

Now it was getting dark and we were worried that the candlelight would be noticeable in the treehouse. The lights of a car pulled up in front of the house but we had no idea who it was and assumed the family was now home. More attempts on the walkie-talkie failed even though we saw room lights come on. Finally, Chloe became impatient.

“I’m going to sneak down, approach the house from the front and ring the doorbell,” she made it sound like a military tactic, “I’ll think of some lame excuse to talk to Tommy. He better not have chickened out!” And she left.

By the light of a candle, I did a cursory exploration of the treehouse. I felt comfortable with the solidness of the structure and the size of the room. It was almost bedroom size and I found some rolled-up sleeping bags the boys would use on weekend nights. A Styrofoam cooler was half full with water and bottles of coke. We had been sitting on a yard sale rug and there was an old bathroom cabinet on the wall that held supplies such as sterno cans, Jiffy Pop and more candles. Playboy pinups adorned the remaining wall. There was an empty cider jug that I guessed to be their ‘bathroom’ and a locked footlocker that probably held old Playboys and such. I could imagine Tommy and Barry and the other boys camping here at night, sneaking beers, telling stories and lighting farts. The night air was perfect. Not too hot, a light summer breeze kept the room fresh and breathable through the airy bamboo shade.

Soon Chloe came back with the news. “Guess what! That was his grandmother at the house. She’s feeding the dog. Tommy’s in the hospital! Really! He was in the basement cutting some speaker wires or something and he chopped his finger off!” I was aghast but Chloe seemed more excited at having school gossip firsthand. “Oh it’s only a finger. Anyway his folks rushed him to the base hospital and now they’ve taken him to the city and they’re going to try and sew the finger back on!”

“They can do that?” I asked.

“I guess. His grandmother said they’ll probably be gone most of the night and Tommy will have to stay at the hospital. Freaky, huh? Looks like we’ll have to do this another time.”

And yet we didn’t leave our little fortress. Assuming Tommy’s grandmother would leave soon, we lit more candles and found a bottle opener for the sodas. We sat down in our original waiting positions with the window between us and smiled at each other. Chloe and I were both wearing our matching hip-hugger jeans with the flowers embroidered on the side. I had just a plain tee-shirt on but she was wearing a hippie-ish halter-top that tied around her back and neck and did not use a bra. Her parents would definitely not have approved her leaving the house in that get-up but she snuck out with it anyway. With the anticipation of seeing a live boy’s dick now gone I became aware of how Chloe looked and I think she was noticing me. (I too wore no bra, not that I needed one). I suddenly felt very aware of myself and I looked down to see my pointy nipples poking thru my shirt. I folded my arms casually to cover them and Chloe obliged me by being distracted by the footlocker.

“Look at the lock! It looks like the one we used when they were building the new wing to the school. Tommy and I had to share a locker for a year. Everybody had to double up.” She pulled it up to examine the back. “Yup. Same lock.”

“So?”

“So,” She began turning the dial, “I think I still remember the combination.” She tried several times but with no results. I watched her as she shifted to her hands and knees and tried repeatedly to get the sequence of numbers right. Her butt stuck up and outwards and stretched her denim to a perfect tightness. I was pretty sure she knew how she was looking and she continued to twist the combination dial. “I know the numbers I just can’t remember if it’s three times to the right or two…There!” And the footlocker was now opened.

Like pirates getting their first glimpse of the booty we oohed and aahed at what was inside: cigarettes and ashtrays, an empty pint of Jim Beam, a cigar box and other small symbols of preteen defiance. But what wowed us were the dirty magazines. Mostly Playboys and paperbacks until we picked some up and found a black and white hardcore magazine. The text was in German but the action needed no translation. It involved two couples meeting in an apartment and having an orgy. Chloe and I were pressed shoulder to shoulder as we strained to see the action by candlelight.

“Look at the size of his dick,” chloe whispered as if I wasn’t looking. We flipped to the next page expecting to see sexual intercourse but found actual oral sex instead.

“Look, she’s got it in her mouth!” she squealed but my eyes were on the opposite page where the two women were naked and kissing. It became quiet as we scanned the photos and I heard Chloe swallow. I felt my cunt become wet and started to rummage thru the chest to see if there were any more of the harder stuff. I opened the cigar box and gasped at the baggie of marijuana (two fingers), the hash pipe and the three rolled joints. “Pot!” exclaimed Chloe and she took a joint and put it between her lips.

“Isn’t that bad for you?” I asked cautiously. She just p’shawed and, finding matches, fired it up.

So we each leaned back against a wall opposite each other and toked away while looking at dirty books. Actually I only had one hit, coughed for fifteen minutes and sat back waiting to see what would happen. (I didn’t realize I had already caught a buzz. I guess I was expecting some Peter Fonda type acid trip or something.) I had found another hardcore with no text but plenty of action and Chloe was engrossed in a paperback titled ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’. I became aware of the scent my pussy gave when I diddled myself and hoped it wasn’t carrying far. When I looked at Chloe she was eyeing me and my nipples which were rock hard. This time I did not cover them but instead straightened my shoulders and jutted them out. Chloe moved her book aside to show that her buds were also obvious. Smiling, she brought her fingers to her tits and teased herself though her top, making them poke out even further. She kept her eyes on me the whole time watching for my reaction.

Seeing Chloe touch herself did it for me. I reached back for the German hardcore and flipped to the page where one woman was sucking the other’s tit. I turned it around and displayed it to her from across the room. She didn’t say anything at first but then her smile turned devilish and sexy.

“Okay,” was all she said. We put down our books and, knee-walking, met in the middle. Still standing on our knees, without a word, she slid her hands under my t-shirt and cupped my lemon-sized breasts. I wasn’t sure how to act sexually but I guess my smile said it all as she gently molded her palms over my soft flesh. She brought her lips to mine and her mouth tasted cool and clear. Then she lightly pinched my nipples. The smell of pussy was between us and I knew it wasn’t just me. She pulled my shirt off over my head and I wasn’t sure if it was the pot or the passion but I felt myself sway and put my arms around her. God, it felt good holding her in my arms. My hands found the back string to her halter-top and untied it. She did the same to the upper string and her top slid down her front to the floor. I was in love and jealous at the same time. Her breasts were perfect. Full for an eleven-year-old, her coned-shaped tips were pink and inviting. I caressed my fingers across her orbs ever so slightly and she shuddered with pleasure. Her nipples seem to grow an extra knob at the tip. That was an invitation for me and I bent down and began sucking on her button. Whether I was doing it right didn’t seem to matter to me at that moment. I only knew that I could do this all night and never want to leave the cushions of her boobs. She let out a low moan and held my head to her chest as I suckled. Finally she pulled me away and her face was flushed. Without instruction, we went to the sleeping bags and rolled one out. Chloe unzipped it and then we had a blanket instead. She laid down, shimmied her jeans off and I was, again jealously, looking at my friend, not yet twelve, lovely, with what seemed like the body of a young woman. By candlelight she was a dream. I felt like the Anti-Chloe, boobless and hipless and now insecure. She held her arms out to me.

“Come down here, Anna. I want to practice kissing some more.”

She found my button and zipper and then she grabbed the back of my pants and pulled them down as I stood, her hands running down my asscheeks as she took my panties with them.

“Mmmm, you have little hairs,” she purred. True, they were wispy strands that had started sprouting around my mound and before I could remark she pulled me down next to her and kissed me. Our bodies flowed over each other and the feel of smooth flesh against smooth flesh was exciting.

She finally broke the kiss and looked at me with wild eyes.

“I wanna look.” And with that she glided down my body and spread my legs apart. I could feel her breath near my cunt and her fingers pulled my lips apart. I looked down to see her sniffing my pussy as if it were perfumed. I knew what would be next but I still wasn’t ready for how it felt when her tongue touched my slit. She started gingerly and soon was lapping at my cunt with abandon. My hands found my nipples as her mouth worked over my nearly hairless mound. She began alternating teasing my clit and rolling her tongue in a circular motion at my hole, causing it to open more. I felt the swelling of an orgasm approaching when she slid her finger inside me and I could feel it squishing around. Soon two fingers crooked in my cervix, almost gripping me, my back arched and I came in her face, trying to keep as quiet as I could out of habit. Soon I was still, and my body had a light film of sweat all over. Chloe looked up from my cunt with cheeks and chin glistening. My body convulsed as she pulled her fingers out.

“You said you were a virgin,” she said, more curious than suspicious. I was, but I didn’t want to admit that I’d lost my hymen to the handle of a hairbrush back in an earlier masturbating session. Now I could never hide anything from Chloe. Now I only wanted to return the joy she had given me.

“Now it’s my turn,” I pleaded.

We switched places. Chloe had a soft light downy bush that failed to hide her wet slit. Her mound was puffier than mine but it was her pussy lips that held my fascination. Her crack was longer than mine and she had extra folds that seem to blossom as I separated her cunt. Her inside was pink and moist and sweet-smelling and her clit was like a pearl. I looked up to see her smiling at me as she held the fingers that were inside me up to her nose. I tried to remember everything she did to me but soon instinct just took over and my tongue was enjoying itself, exploring her nooks and crannies and gently pulling on her lips with my teeth. I guessed I was doing good as her hand held the back of my head, not pushing but stroking my hair approvingly. Her hips began to gyrate and her hand slid down to my cheek and then to my mouth as if she needed to physically feel my tongue touching her pussy. Her finger slid around her juicy cunt bumping into my tongue and settling on her clit as I stroked up and down her slit and pushed my wiggling tongue into her opening. She was not as quiet when she exploded and her juices poured out of her, which I drank up eagerly. It seemed there was nothing we considered ‘icky’ and took to this lesbian thing with glee. When she had settled down I just rested my face on her slickened mound and rubbed my cheeks into her wetness.

“Wow,” was all either of us could say for a time. We lay there in each other’s arms and let the light summer breeze pass through the bamboo slats and evaporate the sweat from our skin. Soon my hands began touching magic spots on Chloe and she knew that horny little me wanted some more. She smiled, hesitated, touched my nipple, then hesitated again.

“What?”

“I gotta pee,” she giggled sheepishly.

“Oh.” I looked at the cider jug with it’s nickel-size opening.

“Oh don’t even think I could manage that,” she giggled, “blow out the candles.”

I did and she stepped to the entrance and raised the curtain. The cool night air tumbled in and I saw her beautiful body in the moonlight. She looked like a nymph. Then she lurched her pelvis forward and shot an arc of piss into the air to water the backyard.

That was when we heard the surprised shriek from below. “Aaah!! You pissed on me!!”

Chloe stopped peeing and spun around. “Who’s that?!” I half-whispered in panic.

“Ohmigod! Get dressed! Get dressed! I think I just peed on Tommy’s grandmother!”

End of part one.