WARNING
This story is copyright © 2003-2005. All rights are reserved by the author, including that of publication. Posting on-line is only allowed when permission is explicitly granted by the author, and then only for the complete story, including this disclaimer. Contact the author at jimc-author@excite.com for more information, referring to this story (“Lucky Tickets 2: Lucky Stiff”).
I explicitly grant permission to post this story as a work in progress on StoriesOnline.net and asstr.org. Those two sites also have explicit permission to post the completed stories as well.
The following is a work of fiction and is just a fantasy. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely unintentional. There may be references to people in a historical context, but they are not really characters in this story.
This is a story that describes sexually explicit situations in a fictional universe that only vaguely seems similar to the one we live in. Most of the characters in this story are under aged. However, the target audience is adults (people over the age of eighteen) with broad minds.
This is a sequel to the story “Lucky Tickets,” and as such, you may want to read that story first to get a better introduction to the characters present in both stories. Like a lot of sequels, it’s not really meant to be read out of order.
Prologue
Sometimes, in a person’s life, an event happens that seems very innocuous at the time, but is destined to have a big impact on his or her life.
One such event in my life happened on a sunny day in August, 1974. I was walking with my friend Jack through a vacant lot at the corner of the street where I lived. I managed to stumble upon a roll of purple tickets with the legend “Lucky Tickets” printed on them. Those tickets turned out to be quite magical.
I soon found out that if I pulled a ticket off the roll and handed it to somebody, I could make a wish of the person receiving the ticket. The wish has to be within the power of that person to grant the wish. That means I can’t wish for, say world peace, unless that person is somehow able to achieve it. There were some other limitations with the tickets, but they were still very powerful. Imagine handing a girl a ticket and make her to think that you’re the sexiest guy in the world. Suddenly, her whole world image would change. You’d really be the person that she thought she was waiting for her entire life, seemingly of her own volition.
I was almost sixteen years old when I found those tickets, and my life started changing almost immediately. For one thing, as my example in the previous paragraph indicates, I discovered girls. I mean, I really discovered them. Thanks to those tickets, any girl would allow me to explore her body, and would want to make love with me.
I actually did things like that at first. I discovered that I could really mess with people’s minds, take something from somebody, and even exact revenge upon people for perceived injustices.
Alas, it turned out that what I had thought was a blessing could turn out to be a curse. After a couple of childish acts of revenge, I found that I started to regret making some of my wishes. I found it very difficult to undo the effects that such wishes created. It also turned out, much to my surprise, that I had a conscience.
As a result, I spent a lot of time trying to make up for stupid and immature mistakes and I eventually decided to tone down my use of the tickets. I promised myself that I would only use them in circumstances that were within a reasonable set of boundaries or in emergencies.
I couldn’t bring myself to abandon the tickets, so they were always around and I found myself thinking of them constantly. Of course, that also meant that temptation was always close to me. I am only human, and even with the best of intentions, I find that a teenager is still prone to make mistakes.
This is the second story in the “Lucky Tickets” saga.
Chapter 1—Sherry Jordan
Since the beginning of my sophomore school year, I found myself the object of attention from a few of the girls in my class. This was a new situation for me—I had rarely attracted any notice from members of the opposite sex before.
The thing that was different this year, of course, was that I was now dating Kristen Swift, my little blonde Goddess. Kristen was a senior, had a long mane of lovely blonde hair, blue eyes, and a killer body. Her family was rich, and I was definitely from the “other side of town.” For some reason, Kristen attended public high school, and I had known of her for a few years, mistakenly thinking that she was responsible for my losing the friendship of somebody that I had once been close to.
Kristen was also eighteen months older than I was. That in itself was unusual in high school. Usually, it was older boys that dated younger girls. Girls seemed to look for maturity in the guys they dated, and they associated maturity with age. The fact that Kristen and I were going steady was atypical to say the least.
Apparently, this new situation seemed to make some girls give me more than a casual glance as dating material. After all, if somebody like Kristen found me interesting, there might be more to me than was immediately apparent. The level of my perceived maturity rose proportionately due to the fact that Kristen thought I was dating material. Kristen was no longer the leader of her own clique of girls at school, but she was well known enough that my stature in school naturally rose until I was pretty much known on sight by just about everybody.
Being naive, I didn’t know exactly how to handle this new attention from the girls, so I simply tried to ignore it. Some girls saw my reaction and set their sights elsewhere. A couple of girls saw my reluctance as a personal challenge. Somehow attracted by my attitude, they went on crusades to ensnare me.
One of these crusaders was Sherry Jordan, a sophomore like me that I had known since seventh grade. Sherry’s brown hair was very curly and was so fine as to look fragile. Her breasts were on the smallish side. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world, and I always thought of her as a shy girl in junior high. Every time I saw her, she looked like she was concentrating on something or other, a look that I guess I associated with studiousness. Like most of the girls at that time, Kristen being the notable exception, Sherry wore what I thought was too much makeup—heavy on mascara and eye shadow.
I discussed the attention I was receiving from Sherry with my good friend Patty, who was a senior at the school. Patty was a red-headed friend that I introduced to Kristen. Patty was mildly amused about the way I described Sherry’s actions, understanding that the girls my age were still going through emotional changes themselves. She explained to me how they were just trying out their new wings, so to speak, and how the air of sexual permissiveness of the mid-1970s probably had a lot to do with their attitudes as well.
It was nice having somebody like Patty to talk to. I found her to be a remarkable source of insight into other people’s feelings. What Patty told me made a lot of sense. In fact, in the past year or so, I had seen some of my male acquaintances start to notice members of the opposite sex, a complete 180 degree reversal from their previous attitudes.