Danny Cassernova's Legacy

By Andrew Gilbert

Danny Casser is an 18 and 3/4 year old teenage youth and is a virgin. All of his mates have jumped over that hurdle, or so they say. Like all teenagers Danny has a fear of dying a virgin. It's not exactly thorugh a lack of trying. Danny has got to second base a couple of times and came very close to getting nearly to third base. You know how it is trying to get rid of your lover L-Plates! It's a humorous look at what lads go through as a horny teenager. Of course they also have to go with girls who have their own ideas of sex and love.

Men you may be surprised at how many memories this brings back. Girls, it might give you some idea of what lads go thourh to prove what studs they are. Enjoy the read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Gilbert
• Release date: Mar 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224151073

Andrew Gilbert

Andy has been writing for the last twenty years and has written a number of books over a wide variety of genre. His first book Sold over 5000 copies and he continues to write on whatever the mood takes him. Currently he  is finishing Books on the crime scene in Rotorua, New Zealand. As always his books are not meant to be taken seriously. If you haven't laughed today, read one of Andy's books!

Book preview

Introduction

Thursday 18 th July

Now I’m not the type of bloke that writes ‘Dear Diary’ when he’s laying down his thoughts for posterity so what you will get is pretty much how it comes out of my grey matter. Sit back and enjoy the ride.

Today is Thursday so that means its Payday. That’s always a good part of the working week. And I started the day with one of my better dreams. As usual it was about Kelly from where I work. With the dream featuring the lovely Kelly, it’s obviously going to be a wee bit erotic

Erotic dreams. It’s strange how often they feature in your night hours when you are at the impressionable age. I do remember that my old man had mentioned them when he gave us the talk on the birds and the bees. He put it down to raging hormones as I recall. He did mention something about going blind but he had one of his smirks on his face when he said it so I figured he was winding us up. Anyway, the dream was progressing quite nicely, and Kelly was joining in the party with some enthusiasm, when the usual thing happened. Nothing!

I heard the bedroom door opening and Ma walked in which fairly quickly brought me back to the real world.

Come on, Daniel, you’ll be late for work again.

I rolled over on to my side so she would not spot my dwindling enthusiasm.

Right Ma, I’m getting out of bed, is the kettle on?

Kettle’s been on since your Dad left for work and that was an hour ago said the old lady as she turned and went downstairs to make my breakfast. She’s a good girl is the old lady, really. Yes, I might wind her up a bit but she still looks out for us.

I returned to lying on my back. It wasn’t too much of a job to get back to semi interested as I tried to drag back my dream of Kelly from Accounts giving me the bended knee and me giving her the tonsil tickle. Use your imagination on the tonsil tickling. I’m sure you’ll work it out. I just know she wants to give me the treatment and one of these days I’ll give her the chance and actually get the nerve up to ask her out for a date.

In the two remaining minutes before the old lady would be back in the room to get me out of bed, I tried in vain to conjure up the image of Kelly again, but to no avail.

With a sigh and a half interest in the dream, I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. It seemed like every morning I woke up after a decent dream with an aroused interest in my, er, potential. I have to say, the dreams are getting worse, or is it harder, to take.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror I wondered again whether I should grow a beard. A mo’ perhaps? What about a Goatee? That would be a bit different. A bit arty, even. What about something like those rappers on the telly have? Scotty tried to grow a Goatee once but he looked a real dork. Like Jimmy Hill but without the chin. As I threw on the shaving foam, I leaned forward and admired myself in the lower half of the mirror. ‘Oh Kelly, one of these days girl, I’ll show you what you’re missing!’

By the time I’d completed the shave and shower and dressed ready for work, breakfast was on the table.

As I sat down at the table Ma reminded me that Uncle Peter and Auntie Ellen were coming over for the weekend and that cousin Nikki was coming as well. Uncle Peter and Auntie Ellen are not our real Uncles and Aunts. They were friends of Ma and the Old man, so we’ve always called them Uncle and Aunt. It’s one of those things. They’re all right for old folks, though. At least you can have a bit of a laugh with them, anyway. Nikki is another matter. She’s maybe a year younger than us and a real pain in the ass. We always had to look after her when her family came to visit. You know what it’s like, going out with the lads and having to trail a little girl behind you. You’re trying to get up to a bit of mischief with the lads and you have this kid following you round like a puppy. The lads used to give me a fair bit of grief about her. Embarrassing doesn’t cover it.  I felt I was now old enough to get out of having Nikki round to cramp my style with the lovely Kelly!

Aw Mum. Not little Nikki. She’s a right pain in the ass. She’s not coming out with the lads and me on Saturday night. Get Dinny to baby-sit her. We’re going to the pub and she’s too young to come with us. I might have a date, anyway.

I do wish you’d stop calling your brother Dinny. His name’s David. Dinny’s such a silly baby name. Besides Nikki’s only a year younger than you two. You haven’t seen her for two years. She might be a nice girl to go with you and the boys on Saturday.

If she’s that nice Ma, let her go with Dinny. He hasn’t had a date in two months. He needs the excitement more than I do.

And I suppose you still fancy your chances with that Kelly from work? From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t sound like a very nice girl, if you ask me.

Ma, it’s because she’s not a very nice girl that I fancy my chances.

If your father could hear you talk like that...

It would remind him of when he was our age.

You boys are all the same! Girls are quite different.

And Vive la difference, Ma. I’m off, gonna be late for work, Cheers.

Hi folks, let me introduce myself. The name’s Danny Casser. Mostly called Cassanova, which I don’t exactly mind, because of my name. It works fine for me. I’ve reached the ripe old age of 18 ¾ and, unbelievably, I’m still a virgin. Virgin by non-result if not exactly by choice. Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not a ginger beer or anything like that. And I’ve got all the bits to not be a virgin. In fact my best mate and I are doing anything we can to not be a virgin. My best mate is the one I shake hands with a lot, if you get my drift.  A lot of the lads have a name for theirs. I don’t. He’s just my mate. He’s a mate till he gets excited and then he does tend to do his own thing. That’s when I have other things I call him. He gets totally out of control, sometimes. Put it down to hormones, the Old man said.  Speaking of the Old man. The title says something about a legacy. Don’t worry about that bit. It doesn’t happen till right near the end of the book. This book is more about my getting a homer with a bird. Pay attention and all will be revealed. Where were we? Oh yeah, Raging hormones and hot dreams. I have enough raging hormones to supply many an under privileged nation. If you have already reached the ripe old age of twenty you know what I mean about not being able to control your hormones. Rampant they are. At the slightest sign of a decent bit of totty my little mate is standing to attention which can lead to some serious embarrassment sometimes, not to say some serious discomfort as well. My old man says they called it tenting when he was a lad. You know, suddenly you have a tent pole in your trousers and it’s not always convenient or polite to, er, pull the tent down as it were. All my mates are not virgins. Well that’s the story they give, which is the same story I give out, so it doesn’t mean any of their stories are true. I’ve been out with enough birds to get to first base pretty easy and fairly regular. If I don’t even get to first base I lose interest pretty quick. I’ve got to second base a fair few times. Second base? Well first base is getting your fingers warmed with a nice firm piece of fresh totty titty. You might call it ‘her breast’ if you’re the strong sensitive type. Both hands warmed still only counts as first base though. Second base is getting down below. And you’ve got to be inside the underwear to count. Finger pie is what my mate Scotty calls it but he has definitely not got a high couth count. Very uncouth would be how you’d describe Scotty. Got his end away for the first time at age 15 so he says. I can’t see it myself. How could he score when I’m still striking out? Third base is when she gets her hand down your trousers if you know what I mean. It’s called a Hand shandy if you get my drift. It shows a bit of enthusiasm on her part does a hand warming. All the way is a home run and your little mate gets his head wet. I hope that clears it up for you. Let’s get back to me again. Yeah I am trying with maximum effort to join the ranks of the non-virgins of this world. Until I do I’m going to continue to get embarrassed by my little mate and continue to have some very erotic dreams. Some of these dreams are based on girls I got to second base with. Some of them are based on the one time I nearly got to third base. I told myself that it was probably too big for her to handle and she got a bit panicky. Truth be known, I might have got a bit panicky and lost my control of the situation. Who would know how women think? If she’d been a bit keener I might have let her have another try.

She didn’t seem that interested once it got a bit messy.

So until I get well and truly laid with a member of the opposite sex that didn’t need blowing up first like Notty’s did, I suppose I’ll still be entertaining myself and having these dreams involving the weather lady and such. Hang in for a while and you’ll score what went down. See if you follow what I went through. I can’t have been the only virgin that went through all this.

Chapter 1

It’s still Thursday the 18th

Walking to work, I felt in a reasonably good mood. It was Thursday, which is Payday. One more day and it would be the weekend. Saturday morning, I can have a lie in. Sunday morning, with a bit of luck, I’ll be having a lie in with Kelly at her flat.  I’m giving myself a good talking to, on the way to work. Today’s the day when you ask Kelly out, my son. Stop pissing around like you have done for the last 3 months. As soon as she walks around handing out the pay packets, you ask her there and then. Get it sorted for Saturday night, a few drinks, maybe a curry if she looks likely to come across and then back to her flat.

I have to remember to be suave when I ask her. I ran through a few possible opening lines as I walked down the street.

Hey Kelly, fancy a drink on Saturday night?

Nah, that sounds too iffy, too casual. That’s not the image I want.

Kelly we’re having a small celebration at the weekend, would you care to come as my partner?

Give over, that makes you sound like a ponce. With a tidy bit of skirt like Kelly you have to have the right opening line. You don’t want to make her suspicious as to what you really want from the evening What about....

Kelly, my brother has got stuck with a bloody cousin from out of town for the weekend and we have to show her the sights. Care to join us and make a foursome?

That’s the one. It will make her feel safe cos there’ll be four of us. It’s as good as done. The cousin from out of town will make her feel dead safe. No chance of sex with a cousin from out of town in the party is there! She’s bound to go for the foursome one.

Talking to yourself again, Danny? A lot of birds find that a bit of a turnoff. Mind you, with the average bird you’re squeezing, a third person might make them seem more interesting. You know, a bit of personality and stuff.

My little brother Dinny had entered my conversation and joined me as we walked on to work.

Turning into Fenton St. We slowed down our last few paces before once again entering the warehouse of ‘Duncan and Davis, Plumbers Supplies’.

‘Once more unto the breach’ I said to myself. I’m not quite sure what it meant but it sounded like going to work or something equally pointless. As I pulled open the door, the clock at the far end of the warehouse read 8.27. Three minutes to clock in before old man Davis started looking at me a bit sideways for being late. ‘Timing is everything Danny boy’ I said to myself as I stepped up the pace and noticed with satisfaction that my time card read 8.29 and I could see Davis, up in his office looking at his watch. I gave Old man Davis a cheery wave, which was not returned in full measure. I let my eyes move sideways and there at her desk sat the object of my desire and most of my better fantasies. Kelly Burdon. Just 2 months older than I am. Kelly was a definite 10. Standing around 5 foot 6, Kelly filled out her clothes in a way that made every male in the place stand to attention as she walked past. I’m no expert on female sizes but I do know a well-proportioned package when I see one. Her breasts were probably a C cup. At least a ‘B’ and a half. Do bras come in half sizes? They were far too nice to be called tits. I had checked them out in my memory and then checked out the size of the old lady’s bra. God, I hope Kelly‘s bras are more exciting than the old lady’s! Ma’s bra was a B. Oh Yes; Kelly was a B and a half, if not even a C all right. You just know they are firm and proud like some of the girls in my art collection. Kelly’s stomach was flat and led smoothly down to her tight skirts. She also had a tight little backside, which well filled her work skirts. It was always a good day for the boys when Kelly wore a nice tight T-shirt to work instead of a blouse. The best day at work was stock take day, every quarter, when Kelly wore tight jeans and a t-shirt and worked along with the boys to record our count of the stock. Time and a half for the Saturday work and Kelly alongside them with T-shirt and Jeans. Could a job get better, I asked myself? After the first stock take that Kelly had joined in, she rewrote the stock sheets. The usual terminology and jokes about ballcock assemblies and male and female coupling ends, were deemed offensive by Old man Davis. Ball Cock assemblies were now called ‘BCA’s" and male and female parts were called ‘m’ or ‘f’. A little of the sensual element of the stock take had gone but all the boys were still happy to talk of BCA’s in Kelly’s presence.

I had once seen old man Davis taking a quick peek at Kelly’s ass when she bent over and wondered if Davis was slipping her one for a bonus now and then. Talking to the lads had quickly knocked that one on the head. Davis was at least fifty and at that age would most likely not even be able to get it up. Again, Dinny broke my train of thought.

Would you get with the plot, Danny, and stop eying up Kelly. said Dinny who also added Oh you plonker, now I’ve got 8.31 on my bloody card. Come on and let’s get started.

Now would be a good time to introduce the lads as they all work for Messrs Duncan and Davis and will crop up from time to time. There were maybe thirty odd slaves working at Duncan and Davis. Mostly blokes but there were a few birds in the office and in the showroom. I reckon the Showroom women were told to bend over and flash a bit of their top half and most punters would be buying the bidets was probably Old man Davis’s plan. The two birds in the showroom were getting on a bit. One was late twenties and the other would have been into the big three-oh easy. A bit past it for showing the body, but maybe Davis preferred the more mature woman. At his age, he’d have no choice.

Among the lower paid slaves in the place were the lads and I. There were four of us in total. Danny and Dinny, Scotty and Notty. Danny, that’s me, you have already met. Dinny is my brother David. Twin brother actually but an hour younger. As a nipper he had taken to mimicking Bruce Forsyth on Telly. When Brucie said Didn’t he do well? young David had repeated the phrase but it came out as Dinnydowell? which gave rise to young David’s nickname later shortened to Dinny.  Dinny and I are twin brothers aged 18 ¾. Scotty was just 6 months older and liked to think he was the leader of the pack. Scotty’s real name was Warren, which he hated. By some twisted genetic throwback Warren had been a follower of Celtic Football Club. I think he’d even lived in Glasgow for a couple of years when he was a tiny tot. His old man had been transferred down to our town. When he arrived at school on his first day and the teacher had introduced him as Warren, he’d spit the dummy big time. When we’d offered to call him Celty in preference to his disliked name of Warren, Warren thought it made him sound too much like an effing sheep dog, so Scotty was his preferred choice and Scotty he became. He fancies himself with the girlies does our Scotty. He’s been seen with some real dogs from time to time but he does give us all the details of his sex life. Regular sex has to be a bonus, but I swear that some of his birds are so doggy they sniff lampposts and chase cars. Come to think of it. You have to wonder about his sex life now you think of it. According to Scotty, he bonks every bird he’s been with which I find hard to believe, given he’s still got the pimples and stuff.

The last and youngest and most inconspicuous member of our Fab four was Notty. Notty’s mother preferred his given name of Terence, which everyone agreed was only a good name for a poofter. As Terence supported Nottingham forest he became known as Notty.  So, the Fab four are known as Scotty, Notty, Danny and Dinny. The foursome has several things in common.

We all work for Duncan and Davis

We all have a huge crush on Kelly Burdon. If the truth were to be told, Crush is far too polite a word to describe the type of relationship we all want with the object of our lust and desire. The ideal works party would be Kelly and the four of us on a deserted island. It won’t happen, of course, but it’s another dream to hang on to. Come to think of it, Kelly figures in a lot of my dreams. I wonder if she’s the star turn in the other lad’s dreams. I wonder if I should ask them. Nah, I don’t see how I could explain half my dreams anyway. The old man reckons the dreams are all down to raging hormones. He also said the raging hormones eased off once you’d, er, you- know-whatted, for the first time. I couldn’t ask the lads or they’d be asking me if I’d really left the ranks of the virgins of this world. Hmm, that’s a tricky one.

Now I think about it I reckon the four of us are all overfilled with raging hormones, which, coupled with a certain knowledge that ‘all birds were desperate for it’ gave rise to some well-misinformed tearoom discussions.

None of us currently enjoy a steady relationship with a member of the opposite sex.

Despite all the bullshit to the contrary, I’m not sure if all of us are Virgins! I know I am still, technically, a virgin and I give as much bull as the rest of them about my sex life. So, chances are we all are still waiting for the first time with a member of the fairer sex.

Moving on with the story.

At morning teatime, the likely lads gathered in one corner of the tearoom at their own table.

I started the chat with, All things being equal, I’ll be getting it away with Kelly at the weekend. Now I reckon that was just me being a bit subtle. I also reckon I should have kept my mouth shut.

Notty was the only one who half believed me. Scotty and Dinny were quite cheeky, the miserable gits. Their disbelief was well fuelled by the jealousy that none of the group had managed to even get a date with her.

In your dreams, Danny Boy! voiced Scotty.

And there’s been plenty of them. added Dinny.

Naff off. said I, Got it all worked out, I’m asking her, when she pays us, to make up a foursome with Dinny for Saturday night. A few drinks, maybe a curry, pour on the charm and I’m in like Flynn

Dinny asked where his part of the foursome was coming from. When I advised him of Nikki being his partner for the weekend, Dinny spit his dummy big time. Dinny’s refusal to take Nikki out was shortened by Old man Davis looking at his watch and reminding us that we were only allowed 12 minutes for tea break. As we wandered downstairs to the warehouse bets were laid on me asking Kelly out. It was probably Scotty who wanted the bet. He was probably jealous I might be getting in first with Kelly. Maybe he thought I’d back away if there were a few quid at stake. I can’t back away when Scotty’s putting me on the line to perform. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do but I offered to double the bet if I ended up getting my leg thrown over Kelly’s thighs. I thought it might have made Scotty back off. It actually had the opposite effect! Bets were offered and taken and I stood to make fifteen quid if I had the nerve to ask her. I stood to make another twenty if she accepted and I had my wicked way with her, provided I came in on Monday and gave the three of them every little detail. And they’d want all the details as well! A real bunch of tug merchants they were.

Having been backed into a corner, I was feeling a little nervous. No, let’s be honest, nervous didn’t cover it. My little heart was racing and my head was pounding and I felt sure I’d make a real dog’s breakfast of asking Kelly, or I would sound like a real dork. For the next hour I was practising my speech to myself.  I worked on the sincere approach and then the casual, throwaway line. A bit of the Brad Pitt style was how I finally decide to ask her. Smooth and cool. You can’t seem too keen with a bird like Kelly. The decent birds can smell desperation on a bloke. I read that somewhere.  It wouldn’t do for Kelly to give me the flick if she thought I was desperate, would it?  It’s almost a ritual among the blokes on a Thursday.  They keep an eye on the clock until the time they would be sneaking a sideways glance at Kelly’s legs as she came down the stairs with the pay packets for all the workers.

At 11.20 I had the speech down pat. I would only get one chance at asking Kelly so the tone of voice had to be perfect. Caring yet cool and casual, rather than a begging tone was the style I was aiming for.

At 11.25 I nipped to the gents for a nervous one. Washing my hands and checking my hair in the mirror, I wondered again about growing a beard. I’ll ask Kelly, I thought. Perhaps on Sunday morning when we’ve had another session in her bed. I’ll see what she likes. Let the girl share in the decisions, birds love that. I’d read that, somewhere, as well. All that reading of the arty pages was beginning to pay off.

It was all going to plan and it was a great plan with no flaws that I could see. Already I could feel a slight rising interest at the prospect of going in for the second session on Sunday morning. Better take my toothbrush, I reminded myself, my morning breath isn’t the best after a curry the night before.

The only possible flaw in my plan then occurred.

At precisely 11.30 Old man Davis walked downstairs with the pay packets. Everyone on the warehouse floor was disappointed at not seeing Kelly’s flashing thighs as their weekly bonus. I was gutted and had difficulty concentrating as the old man passed out the wage packet to me.

Feeling all right Mr Casser? You look a little red in the face.

"Fine thanks, Mr Davis. I’ve