by J.T. Livingston

Created on: July 13, 2008   Last Updated: April 06, 2009

BORROWED MEMORIES
CHAPTER ONE - October 1969

"Come on, Kacey. . ." the young boy-man pleaded, all the while using his inexperienced hands to grope clumsily beneath her sweater.

The equally inexperienced girl pushed herself as far away from him as the compact interior of the 69 Volkswagen would allow. Apparently it wasn't far enough, because his hands quickly resumed their frenzied search for her chaste, delicate breasts.

She grabbed his hands, shoving them away with a force that belied her delicate, feminine strength.

"No! Stop it, Scott!" the girl practically hissed.

A frustrated surge of teenage hormones quickly renewed and flowed through the boy's well-developed body. Not quite a man's body, but close enough. "Oh, come on, baby. . . please!" He leaned toward her again, his hands spawning a stubbornness all their own and refusing to accept the girl's vehement denial of his sexual prowess.

Restating her own stubbornness and denial, the girl, once again, pushed him away-this time, hard enough for the back of his head to impact sharply with the closed, steamed window.

"Ouch!" he cried out in protest.

Scott Pennell reached back and rubbed the back of his head, checking for any sign of bleeding. His dark brown eyes, that were brimming with unbridled desire only moments ago, glared at the young girl with transparent disgust. He was suddenly tired of her endless games and adolescent teasing. He had bragged, for months to his friends, about his sexual exploits, oftentimes, providing graphic details of every imaginable erotic featmost of which were just that, imaginable.

Sitting in the cramped vehicle, contemplating his sore head and bruised ego, Scott now believed that Kacey had been stringing him along, teasing him with unfilled promises of her luscious, girl-woman body. If his friends ever found out the truththat he had never even made it to second base with Kaceyhe would be the laughing stock of the locker room. They would never let him live it down.

Perhaps it was the fear of ridicule, more so than the throbbing ache in his head and genitals, but Scott vowed to himself that things would go differently tonight. He really didn't want to have to force himself on Kaceythat wasn't his style-but at the moment, he more than understood why some guys felt the need to exert their dominating male control and power over women. She may have said no, but he knew she really meant yes. He knew she wanted it as badly as he did.

Scott continued to stare, through slitted

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