Obsessed with Chantal

A 14-year-old boy instantly falls in love with his friend's sister. He vows to marry her in a decade. As time goes by Chantal wants to test Bobby's sex skills.

Part One

Fourteen-year-old Bobby Dunmore was instantly and completely captivated by her smile and the single word “Hi!” Ten-year-old Chantal Cassidy entered her family’s home’s living room from one end and was gone out the other end within a few seconds, but that was all it took.

Earlier that Thursday in April 1974, Bobby had been invited by his classmate Garth to come to his house and examine his baseball card collection. Bobby was new to the neighborhood as his family had just recently moved across the state a few weeks earlier. He had quickly befriended Garth Cassidy who sat directly beside him in his eighth-grade classroom. The piles of sports cards that Garth had placed on the table in front of Bobby no longer held his interest—but his pretty little sister did.

With Chantal out of earshot, Bobby did not hide his feelings. Normally he was a very reserved lad, but he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Wow! Garth, I realize she’s quite young, but your sister is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s gorgeous! I’m not exaggerating!”

“Oh, boy. Chantal has hooked another one!” was Garth’s swift response. He shook his head in wonderment, too.

“Huh?” was Bobby’s reply.

Garth explained, “Bobby, you are probably the fourth or fifth male I’ve heard say something like that. They come in all ages, too. My dad’s best friend is 44 years old. He refers to Chantal as ‘the cutest thing on two feet.’ There’s a 12-year-old boy who lives five houses down the street who has been bringing Chantal birthday presents and Valentine’s Day cards for three years. The proprietor of the convenience store around the block—he has to be at least 60 years old—refuses to let Chantal pay for candy. It’s always free for her. She regularly gets anonymous love letters from several boys at her elementary school. Honestly, I don’t understand it. To me, Chantal is just my annoying little sister.”

“I suppose you’re so used to having Chantal around that you don’t see what others see,” Bobby suggested. “There’s just something about her that’s hard to pinpoint. I guess it’s an aura. She just glows. I can’t wait to see what your little sister will look like in a few years. She’s bound to be spectacular.” Bobby paused for a moment before adding this coda: “I hope to be your brother-in-law someday.”

Garth just laughed and stated, “Well, Bobby, that’s definitely taking it to another level. I’m going to bring Chantal back here so you can tell her that.” Garth shouted to Chantal to return to the living room.

“No! Don’t do that!” Bobby shouted. “I’ll be embarrassed!”

“Too late, Bobby. Here she comes.”

Chantal reentered the room. She was about average height for her age, Bobby figured. She had chestnut-brown hair that dipped below her shoulders and only the faintest hint of a feminine figure. She was wearing a navy-blue top that did not conceal that the attractive 10-year-old had visible breast buds. A matching skirt and white knee socks with shiny, black Mary Jane shoes completed her ensemble. Chantal’s undeniable pretty face was the superb final touch.

“Chantal,” her brother announced with a devilish smile, “my friend Bobby has something important to tell you.”

Bobby gulped and decided to speak his mind. “Chantal Cassidy,” he said quite formally, “you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. In about ten years I intend to marry you. Yes, I’m completely serious about this.”

Chantal smiled. She had heard similar compliments before, so Bobby’s heartfelt statement was nothing new to her. After a slight pause, she replied, “Aw, Bobby! That’s so sweet of you to say. Thank you. I don’t even know you, though.”

“Well, Chantal, over the next decade I intend to make myself very familiar to you!” Bobby retorted.

“It’s too bad you don’t go to the same school I do, Bobby,” Chantal noted. “We could have lunch together. There are about six or seven boys who always eat lunch with me. You seem like a very nice boy, too. You could join them.” She then left the room. Bobby eyed her as she departed. Chantal even had a cute derrière for a fourth-grade girl.

Garth said to Bobby, “I didn’t know about her lunchtime mob. That’s the first I’ve heard about it. I guess Chantal and her special aura are really roping them in.”

Bobby asked his friend, “When exactly is Chantal’s birthday, Garth? I want to bring her a nice gift.”

“You missed it, Bobby,” Garth informed him. “Sorry, her tenth birthday was about three weeks ago.”

That fact did not dissuade Bobby in the slightest. A few hours later he returned to the Cassidy home with a belated birthday card for Chantal and a box of chocolates. He signed the card. “With love from your future husband, Bobby Dunmore. You can absolutely count on it, Chantal!”

Part Two

The next day at school Bobby sheepishly asked Garth if he could have another look at his vast baseball card collection as he was “obviously distracted” on his first attempt.

“Who are you trying to kid?” Garth replied with a chuckle. “Don’t give me that! You want another chance to examine my sweet little sister—not my baseball cards.” He stopped for a moment and said, “Sure. Come home with me after school, Bobby. You’re welcome anytime.” Bobby smiled. Garth was clearly a perceptive teenager.

When Garth and Bobby entered the Cassidy house, Chantal was waiting at the front door to greet them, especially the latter. She grabbed the visitor by his wrist which instantly pleased him. She stated, “Bobby, I wanted to thank you again for the birthday card and the chocolates. I’ve eaten half of them already. They’re delicious. Have one with me.”

“Aren’t you going to offer one to your brother?” Bobby asked her as he took a chocolate cream from the box.

“Yeah, I suppose I should do that,” she said apologetically. “I guess I should do this too.” She kissed Bobby on his left cheek. His pulse rate noticeably increased. Until yesterday, Bobby never thought a simple act of affection from a 10-year-old girl could have such a strangely positive effect on him.

“That just made my day! Maybe my whole year!” Bobby said. He had hoped to kiss Chantal in return, but she quickly left the room before he got the chance.

Over the next four years, whenever he had the chance, Bobby would show up at the Cassidy home with various gifts for Chantal: birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, Groundhog Day. Any occasion merited his giving Chantal a present. He would always use the event to remind Chantal that their wedding day had been penciled in on his personal calendar. “I figure early June 1984 would be an ideal time for us to get hitched,” he’d typically say. “By that time, I’ll be 24 years old, you’ll be 20, and you’ll have grown to love me. As you well know, Chantal, I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.”

Chantal would smile politely and remind Bobby that she had gone through a string of boyfriends her own age. Bobby was completely undaunted, however. “That just proves you haven’t found the right boyfriend,” he’d tell her. “That’s because the right one is standing directly in front of you with another gift.”

From age 10 to 14, Chantal Cassidy blossomed into an absolute beauty, exactly as Bobby had predicted to her brother that day in 1974. By the age of 12, she was getting “wolf whistles” from impressed and assertive males, and at least drawing the attention of the mor reserved ones. By age 14, Chantal was on the radar of every red-blooded male high school student in her home town even though she was still attending middle school. One Friday in May of 1978, Bobby showed up at her door bearing a large box of peanut brittle, which he knew from her comments to be Chantal’s favorite type of treat.

Chantal greeted her persistent 18-year-old suitor politely, saw the box of peanut brittle in his hand, and asked, “Bobby, thanks for the gift. But what are you celebrating today? It’s not my birthday or any holiday I know of.”

“Wrong!” he said with a grin. “It’s National Chantal Cassidy Appreciation Day. It’s something new; I just created it. It’s basically just a lame excuse for me to kiss you.” Bobby leaned forward and softly kissed his true love on her cheek. Who knows? Each day might be Chantal Cassidy Appreciation Day from now on.”

Chantal just shook her head and invited Bobby to step inside. No one else seemed to be home. To Bobby’s utter delight, Chantal lovingly wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the lips for the first time ever.

“Let’s see…it’s taken four years for that to happen, but it was worth all the wait and effort!” Bobby declared. Chantal promptly kissed him a second time. It was longer and definitely more passionate than the first one.

“Wow!” exclaimed Bobby. “What’s gotten into you, Chantal? Whatever it is, I love it!”

Chantal truthfully said, “It’s taken me four years to finally realize that you are absolutely right. We ought to be married someday in the future. I have grown to love you, Bobby. You’re a real sweetheart…and you’ve always been so nice to me. I’m starting to appreciate that now.”

“Great!” Bobby said. “There are five Saturdays in June 1984. The middle one is June 16. How about that for a wedding date?”

Chantal laughed and commented, “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into our future already, Bobby. I’m impressed by how thorough you are. But before we book a caterer and start compiling the guest list for June 16, 1984, I want to talk to you about something.”

Chantal took Bobby by the hand and led him to the living room sofa. Once they were comfortably seated beside each other, Bobby began to say something trivial, but Chantal put her right index finger over his lips to signal him to stop talking and listen to her. She said firmly, “Before I marry you—even if it’s four years or 14 years from now—I have to know for certain that we are compatible as mates.”

Bobby nodded and let Chantal continue, although he had no idea where this discussion was eventually leading them.

Chantal continued, “Bobby, I hope you don’t think less of me for what I’m about to say, but I have to be honest with you: I am not a virgin.” Virginity was still generally regarded as a noble virtue among unmarried women in 1978—especially teenage girls, so Bobby was a little bit surprised by this blunt revelation.

“Back in elementary school, in the space of a single week, I let three horny boys in my class take advantage of my naivete,” Chantal confessed. “Of course, they were only interested in me as a sex partner, not at all as a potential wife. I was curious about sex, too, so I allowed it to happen. Anyway, I learned that I like sex—a lot—but that some boys are better at it than others. Two of the boys I had sex with were complete duds. The other one was quite good at it, though. He brought me to an orgasm. At that moment, I vowed I would only marry someone who was good at sex—and I mean very good at it!”

Bobby sensed what was coming and he could scarcely believe it.

“Therefore, Bobby,” Chantal said, “I think we need to have a sexual encounter before we even talk in general terms about getting married in a few years. If you can please me in bed, even adequately, I’m yours from this day forward, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Are you agreeable to that, Bobby?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Bobby replied just a millisecond later.

“Today is Tuesday,” Chantal noted. “As you can see, I’m here alone on Tuesdays until late at night. Garth’s job keeps him occupied. My father works late and my mother plays bridge. Therefore, if you show up here at about 6 p.m. a week from today, we’ll see how compatible we are sexually. What do you say, Bobby? Does that sound like a good plan to you?”

“I’ll mark it on my imaginary calendar,” Bobby joked. Doing his best mime impression, he mimicked pulling a notebook out of his shirt pocket and began scribbling with a pen that wasn’t there. He said, “Next Tuesday evening. Six o’clock. Cassidy house. Fuck Chantal’s brains out. Got it! I won’t forget!”

Part Three

Although he had seven days to prepare himself to screw the love of his life better than a 12-year-old once did, Bobby took no chances. He remained celibate so he would be well prepared for intercourse with Chantal. Since he had no steady girlfriend, this meant no masturbating in the interim. On Wednesday he made a point of going to a local Asian health food store that was locally renowned for its quirky products to enhance male sexual prowess. The old proprietor was surprised to see such a young person ask for a concoction of herbs to help him “get it up.”

“Oh, I can get it up, alright,” Bobby insisted. “I just want it to be as hard as iron to please my girl. My relationship depends on it, sir. Maybe my entire future, too.”

“Ah, I see,” said the aging storekeeper. “You want to make an extra big impression on your special lady with your dick. I have just the mixture for you! Stir a spoonful of this ginseng powder into a large glass of warm water twice a day and drink it as quickly as you can. You will have a very stiff penis and a huge ejaculation. I’ll stake my reputation on it.”

Bobby immediately bought a bagful of the helpful man’s homemade potion and began using it as he had been instructed. By Sunday he was sporting an involuntary erection for most of the day. Tuesday evening could not come fast enough for Bobby.

Part Four

At the appointed time on Tuesday, Bobby arrived at the Cassidy house. He saw Chantal waiting anxiously for him on the doorstep. He sprinted across the front lawn and ran up the small staircase. She stood there with her arms open, preparing to embrace him. Instead, Bobby grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up and began to carry the 5’4” Chantal to her bedroom. Bobby had never been in it before, but he knew its location was at the end of the upstairs hallway.

“In a hurry, Bobby?” Chantal managed to jokingly ask him as they made their way there.

“You better believe it, Chantal!” he said with all sincerity. “My dick has been hard as steel for the better part of three days. Therefore, I’m well prepared. As I promised you a week ago, I’m going to fuck your brains out and leave no doubt that I’m the guy for you.”

Bobby completely disrobed in about 15 seconds. Chantal took a little bit longer—too long for Bobby’s limited patience that day. To speed things up, he happily assisted in the removal of Chantal’s beige brassiere and white panties. It seemed almost impossible to Bobby, but Chantal was even better looking than she was usually, now that she was standing before him totally naked.

Bobby took charge of things after Chantal climbed onto her bed. The next 20 minutes were a bit of a blur to Bobby when he tried to recollect the happy details afterward. He did recall licking Chantal’s shaved vagina until she became noticeably wet. Then he turned his attention to her beautiful breasts that he had longed to suck on since the days when she only had tiny buds on her chest. He played with them, caressed them, and sucked on them until her nipples were as stiff as his erect penis. Chantal’s gentle coos and other noises of approval let Bobby know he was passing the test.

Finally, Bobby mounted the girl of his dreams. He slowly inserted his dick into her crevice and slowly began to thrust it in and out. Within the space of a minute, Bobby had increased his speed until he was pounding Chantal’s pussy with great gusto. He had the presence of mind to ask her, “Am I pleasing you, Chantal? My only goal is to please you with my hard dick. Please tell me I’m pleasing you!”

Chantal was speechless, but she nodded strongly and groaned affirmatively. After about five minutes of fantastic intercourse, Bobby felt a huge ejaculation was imminent. He pulled his dick from Chantal’s tight vagina, gave it a couple of timely jerks, and unleashed an impressive geyser of cum. The old Asian shopkeeper had been correct: Bobby’s sperm splashed across Chantal’s stomach and breasts with a few ropes of goo flying far enough to hit the pillow to the left of her pretty face. Bobby noticed that Chantal was eying him with something akin to awe. That pleased him because he had obviously pleased her. Bobby was exhausted from his exertions, though, and fell slowly forward, landing gently on top of Chantal and the pools of jism he had released. His sweaty body was now covered with cum, too.

“All I can say is thank you, thank you, Bobby!” Chantal said while panting along with her lover. “That fuck was at least a hundred times better than having sex with Simon Albert back in the sixth grade…and he was easily the best of the three boys I fucked that year.”

“Simon Albert was a lucky bastard to bed you at such a young age,” Bobby opined. “But I never want to hear his miserable name again.”

Then it occurred to Bobby that Chantal had not officially given him a passing grade as a bedmate—which had been the catalyst for this enjoyable carnal romp. “So, just to be certain, Chantal,” Bobby asked cautiously, “did I do alright as a sex partner in your estimation?”

The answer was already more than obvious. Just to be playful, however, Chantal mimicked writing in her own imaginary notebook. She penned, “Saturday, June 16, 1984. I married Bobby Dunmore today. He is wonderful. We were made for each other. I am the happiest girl in the world. Honeymoon in Hawaii to follow. Won’t leave hotel room, though. I’ll be too busy fucking my handsome and studly husband all day and night to do any tourist things.”