Pam Meets Jail Bait

When I was 16, an “older woman” (about 26 years of age) took unfair advantage of me.

https://tuscl.net/discussion.php?id=6547…

At first I was absolutely delighted to be taken advantage of in this way. As I outlined in my post a long time ago, I was young, stupid and actually fell in love with the bitch. But I eventually realized that I was nothing special to her and that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about my feelings.

But the damage had been done. I felt that girls my age couldn’t possibly be as much fun or as interesting as a sexually experienced 20-something year old woman. But until I got older, my attempts to find such a woman who would give the time of day (much less give me a blow job or let me grab her by her haunches and hump her silly) were all a dreary, frustrating waste of time …

… until I met Pam.

https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=10439

Pam was a petite, bottle-blonde waitress at a restaurant where I worked as a busboy. She was 21 years old at the time and married to some guy I never met and whom she absolutely detested (for reasons she never shared with me).

I used to talk to Pam every chance I got. She thought I was “smart.”

Clearly, I had Pam buffaloed.

We occasionally went to Denny’s for coffee and pie after we both got off work just so we could hang out together and talk. Then one evening Denny’s was full.

Rather than wait for a booth, Pam asked if I wanted to come over to her apartment instead. I really wanted to but told her was concerned about her husband showing up and beating the snot out of me. She laughed and told me not to worry because her husband was working in the oil fields near Odessa, Texas and would not return until the weekend after next.

With the coast clear, I happily accepted her invitation. I genuinely thought we were just going to have another discussion focusing on my growing skepticism about all the religious hooey I had been taught.

Once at her apartment she poured us each a glass of white wine and we settled on her couch. She got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom. Each time she returned she sat closer to me than before. Then she left to change out of her waitress uniform. She returned in a pair of very loose fitting gym shorts and a flimsy halter top with no bra underneath.

This time she took her seat on the couch pressed against me. As we resumed our “religious discussion” she put her head on my shoulder.

This got my 17 year old blood racing to a predictable destination.

But I had another, more pressing issue. The wine was racing right through me and I was becoming desperate to take a leak. Finally, when I could wait no longer, I excused myself and went into the bathroom.

Her apartment was tiny and the bathroom couldn’t have more than 3 paces from the couch we were sharing in her living room.

Once in the bathroom I realized that I was in no condition to take a leak. At least for me, it’s damn near impossible to urinate while I have a raging boner.

I waited for it to subside.

It just wouldn’t go away.

Soon Pam was at the door asking me if I was alright. I told her I was fine but she eventually asked why I hadn’t come back out. After a bit of 17-year stammering, I told her I couldn’t pee yet.

After a prolonged silence, Pam asked me why I couldn’t pee.

After she asked me the same question a 3rd time I quietly said, “I can’t pee when I’m in this condition.”

At first there was nothing but silence on the other side of the bathroom door. Then after about 30 seconds I heard Pam giggling.

“What sort of problem are are you having? she asked me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Showing a little honesty I said, “No! You can’t help. You would just make it worse!”

That elicited a hearty guffaw from petite Pam.

“OK, take your time! I’ll wait for you on the couch,” Pam replied.

A few minutes later I finally managed to take a leak without spraying myself in the face. I had to pee so badly it must have sounded like a horse was peeing in her bathroom. There was no need for me to tell Pam I had managed to pee. The people in the next apartment probably heard me peeing.

When I got back on the couch, Pam put her arms around my neck and, pulling me closer, gave me a big sloppy kiss.

“So you finally managed to pee,” she purred. “Does the problem you were having mean you like me?”

I didn’t respond verbally. I just grinned and grew a brand new boner.

Pam suggested we both have a shower to wash the restaurant smell off each other.

Afterwards we made love.

We made love 3 or 4 times over the next few days. Then one day back in the restaurant where we both worked she appeared to be very upset with me but I had no idea why and she wouldn’t tell me.

Eventually she admitted me that she had shared “our little secret” with Debbie, another young waitress working at the same restaurant. Debbie told Pam she was “99.9% certain” I was still in high school and under aged.

“Are you?” Pam demanded.

I didn’t respond.

“How old are you?” she asked with a tone I had never heard her use.

Finally I said “17 but I will be 18 in a little over 3 months.”

Pam’s face was dripping with mortification. “Damn it!” she exclaimed, I didn’t know you were fucking jail bait!”

Shaking her head, she walked away from me.

She didn’t speak to me any more for a few days. But eventually, she walked in on me while I was getting something out of the walk-in refrigerated storage room. We were alone.

Pam put her arms around me and asked me when my birthday was.

After I told her, she flashed a wicked smile and said she would have a birthday present for me that she thought I would really enjoy.

Smiling back at her, I asked her if I should pee first before I came over to collect my birthday present.

“Oh, hell yes!“ Pam replied.