The Bowling Alley Pt. 01

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Summers always seemed to be magical. As I look back now, the memories have become a blur of taking trips to the beach, playing tennis for hours, hanging out at the local pool, and working odd jobs for spending money. A few events, however, remain crystal clear, as though they happened last week instead of last century!

The summer after my senior year in high school was filled with excitement. My high school graduation was followed a week later by the celebration of my eighteenth birthday. I had a beautiful girlfriend who was gradually expressing the desire to share physical intimacy, and I was only months away from heading off to college for my first year away from home. As far as I could tell, life was simply golden.

In years past, I had worked at a local steak house, but at the beginning of my senior year, I got a job at the bowling alley in town. I had spent many Friday and Saturday evenings there with my friends during our high school years, and I enjoyed the setting – lots of noise with howls of disgust as balls slipped into the gutter, cries of celebration as strikes were rolled, and the constant din of crashing pins.

When I saw the sign behind the desk advertising a job as a pin setter, I immediately inquired. The manager talked to me for five minutes and that was it. I had the job. Having watched the older guys in the leagues bowl, I had an idea of what was expected. Every now and then it was necessary to replace a pin that had fallen, or to reset the pin setting machine. It seemed like a pretty easy job, and I was happy to say good bye to the kitchen at the steak house!

My first night on the job, the guy who was to show me the ropes came out from behind the machines and simply said, “Follow me.”

We walked down the narrow aisle between lanes 12 and 13 and slipped behind the pin setters. He told me to watch how the machines worked. It was deafening. The noise that was a constant din from out front, was somewhat overwhelming when the balls were smashing into pins only a few feet away. But I was fascinated with how the machines worked, and barely heard the horn that blew to indicate a problem on lane 1. The kid I was working with had yet to tell me his name. He tugged at my shirt sleeve and said, “c’mon.”

He was in no particular hurry, and I followed dutifully, taking note of the machines on one side of the aisle and various boxes and inventory on the other. I could see that , in addition to the horn, a light was on , indicating just where the problem was. As we neared the lane, I began to hear pins falling from the top of the machine which had jammed.

“This is how you turn off the machine,” my companion said as he hit a switch.

He jumped up on a step and grabbed the jammed pin and pulled it out. He then dropped all of the extra pins in the bin, flipped the switch to turn the machine back on and turned out the light.

“If these were leagues, Sam would get on the mic and tell us which pins to set back up, but these are recreational bowlers so they can just roll the frame over again,” he explained.

And then he turned and headed for the far end where a door was open to the outside by lane 24. As I followed him, my eyes fell on two old stuffed chairs, each covered with a blanket. It was not actually the chairs that caught my eye, it was the book case between them. It was filled illegal bahis with Playboy magazines. He strode right by it , and I followed, but not without slowing down just a bit to confirm that yes, indeed, there were more smut magazines there than I had ever seen in my life. My imagination was kindled.

We stepped outside in the fresh air. I forgot to mention that this was a time when no one questioned that bowling and smoking went hand in hand. Each of the scoring tables had an ashtray built into it, and sometimes the smoke in the place was pretty thick!

“We can hear the horn from here if there are any problems,” he remarked.

As if the air was just a bit to clear for him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. A few moments later, a car drove around the back of the bowling alley, and some of Tim’s friends dropped by to visit. I only learned that his name was Tim because that is what his friends called him.

When the horn sounded, Tim looked at me and said “See if you can handle that.” And with that, I became a pin setter. I struggled at first, worrying about not setting the pins just right for the guys in the leagues who were super hard to please and racing to fix the jams before patrons grew impatient. But soon I grew comfortable in the job and found that I could tell when a machine was jammed even before the horn was sounded , simply by hearing the pins falling in a certain way.

I found that I was rather motivated to go to work. Sometimes as much as 20 minutes would go by with nothing to do but to sit and wait for the horn to go off. It took a little while for me to work up the nerve to pick up my first magazine, but as the months of my senior year passed, I discovered that there was nearly an endless supply, not only Playboy, but Penthouse, Hustler, and a variety of lesser known publications. So many stories to read, so many women to discover.

And now a year had passed, and I was a pretty experienced pin setter. Summer had returned, and I was sitting on an old couch by the open door at lane 24, enjoying the cool evening breeze when my girlfriend’s car drove up. I quickly closed the magazine that I had been studying and tried to slide it under the pillow on the couch. Sandy was smiling as she got out of the car. She had an ice cream cone in both hands , and held out my favorite.

The passenger side door of the car opened and out stepped her friend Angel. I paused as I was taking my first bite of ice cream. My girlfriend, Sandy, was cute. She had long hair , a quick smile, and a slim body. In terms of womanhood, however, she had fallen behind most of her friends as far as physical development. Compared with Angel, she had fallen way behind.

Angel had a look about her that suggested that she had discovered the joy of sex well in advance of most of the girls in our class, and she had the reputation to back that theory up. She was wearing short , tight shorts and a halter top which was not up to the task of supporting nor covering her ample breasts.

“Your ice cream is going to melt,” Sandy said with a smile and a faint tone of irritation as I realized that I was starring at Angel’s chest.

I smiled , greeted Angel, and thanked Sandy for the cone. We chatted for a while as we ate our ice cream. They told me about their day, and asked me about how work illegal bahis siteleri was going just as the horn sounded. I scrambled all the way down the aisle to lane 4 and wrestled with a jammed pin for a moment before setting things straight and then returned to the girls.

At this point, Angel was sitting on the couch. As I drew towards them , I realized to my horror that she had picked up the Penthouse magazine that I was looking at when they arrived.

“So, ” she said, “This is what makes working at the bowling alley such a popular job for the guys.”

Sandy sat next to her, as Angel slowly turned the pages.

“Do you like these stories?” Angel asked as she pointed to the Forum section of the magazine.

I glanced at Sandy and then replied that I happened to find some of them interesting. She turned more pages.

Next she asked , “Do you like little tits or big ones?”

I was cornered. Here was Angel, a recent high school graduate with tits the size of most of the mature women that I knew, sitting next to my girlfriend who was the sweetest girl I had ever met but who was, at best, under developed, and I was being put on the spot with a simple question. Of course I should have immediately blurted out that I preferred small breasts, but I hesitated. I could feel Sandy’s eyes staring at me. I had to save face.

“I really don’t think that much about breasts,” I stammered, ” I happen to think that personality is much more important.”

Sandy smiled. I was out of the woods, for a few seconds, at least.

Angel hesitated and then said “If you were so interested in personality you would be reading a different magazine.”

Ouch! She still had me in the corner, but then she let me off the hook “It’s ok, I know you love Sandy, and someday you will probably get to see her tits, but let me tell you, there is nothing like feeling up a girl with nice big tits and large hard nipples!”

Angel was living up to her reputation. Obviously, she and Sandy had discussed sex and the intimate progression that we were making that summer. Perhaps I had Angel to thank for the fact that Sandy had recently become open to more than just a kiss good night!

As Angel continued to page through the magazine, I noticed that Sandy was very attentive to the pages as well. She was getting an education. Angel pointed at one picture and both girls laughed. She turned the magazine towards me and asked “What do you think of her?”

She was pointing to a woman with very full breasts. She was smiling, looking directly into the camera and holding her breasts with her hands. I glanced at Sandy. She was looking straight at me. “She is very attractive,” I said.

Angel put the magazine down, turned to look at Sandy and then looked me directly in the eye and said, “Mine are bigger.”

Without skipping a beat, she pulled her halter down and cupped her breasts and looked directly at me. She had nearly the same pose as the woman in the picture. Looking back I can only say that the rest of the evening was surreal. I agreed that, indeed, Angel’s tits were larger than the ones in the picture. I had no idea what to add. After an awkward few seconds, the horn sounded. This was an actual “Saved by the Bell” moment! I ran to fix the jammed machine. Looked around to see that everything was in order, and then looked down canlı bahis siteleri to notice that my cock was forming a tent in my jeans. It was at the point of being uncomfortable. I hurried back, still unprepared as far as what to say next. Thankfully, I was not expected to say anything.

Angel sat back on the couch, once again paging through the magazine, her tits still exposed. Sandy was still sitting next to her, eyeing each page as Angel made her way through the second half of the publication. I attempted to discreetly study her breasts, the rich deep color surrounding her nipples, the gentle curves that seemed so alluring. A soft breeze fluttered in through the doorway, and I watched as Angel’s nipples responded, quickly growing firm. It was magical.

Suddenly the girls chuckled and looked at me. Each one glanced at my groin, and I was painfully aware that they could tell that I was hard as a rock. Angel again turned the magazine to me and pointed at a picture of a woman, topless, seated on a couch, licking the cock of the man standing in front of her. “Is this the kind of picture that turns you on?” Angel asked.

A nervous grin crossed my face.

“You don’t have to answer that,” she followed up, ” We are quite aware of your current state of excitement.” She turned to Sandy and said, “Watch closely. I am only going to do this once!”

Angel then scooted up to the edge of the couch. She reached out and began unbuttoning my jeans. I turned to face Sandy as Angel unzipped my zipper and slid her hands down the inside of my jeans, pulling them down to reveal my very low cut briefs. Sandy smiled and nodded her head. I felt Angel reach inside of my underwear and grasp my cock. She slid the briefs down with her other hand before cupping my balls. And then, her lips were were sliding down the side of my shaft. Soft and wet, it felt glorious.

Every nerve in my cock responded to the wonderful sensation of Angel’s lips and tongue kissing my cock. Once again, I looked at Sandy. She was watching carefully. It dawned on me at that point that this was not a random experience. Sandy and Angel had planned this. Sandy was just as curious as I was about what direction our sexual exploration should take. Angel had offered to show the way!

With that understanding, I suddenly relaxed. It was ok. Obviously, Sandy was in on the plan from the beginning, and it was totally appropriate to not only continue, but to enjoy it as well. By this time, Angel had my cock in her mouth. I could feel the insides of her cheeks rubbing against the taut skin. I could feel her hand fondling my balls. In no time, the spasms of an orgasm emerged and grew strong. I could feel the cum boiling as it raced from my balls to my cock and down the shaft. Angel knew what was happening. Her eyes turned upward towards me. I put my hand on her head, and gently touch her hair. Her head once again began to move as she slid her lips not off, but down my cock. My cum must have hit the back of her throat. I felt her hands reach around and grasp my ass, pulling my body against her, making sure that my cock stayed inside her mouth during the entire experience.

As my orgasm subsided, I caressed the hair on the top of her head. When Angel sat back, a drip of my cum fell to her breast. She looked down and then wiped the cum from her breast with the tip of her finger.

“You might as well develop a taste for it now,” she said as she lifted her finger to Sandy’s lips.

Tentatively, Sandy stuck her tongue out and licked the cum from Angel’s finger. and then she looked at me and smiled.

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