Where it happened: her apartment
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 10
Category: Straight
This black-haired, creamy-cheeked dream moved to our area from California about the time I graduated from high school; I was 17 at the time and she was 19 months younger which means she was just 15 when we first met and begun ‘playing.’ I first approached her at church on a Sunday night, and asked if I could take her home. She agreed, to my surprise. I was a sort of a ‘nerd’ in those days and had a hearing loss to boot, and so found it really hard to approach girls and carry on a ‘small talk’ conversation. We never seemed to have much trouble, though; she said playing around was like braille for the deaf!
Anyway, we found a place to park at the locally-famous lovers’ lane, and pretty quickly we also found our arms around each other in the front seat of my romance-mobile, a ’53 Ford two-door sedan. Column shift, bench seat, no obstacles! After a few exploratory kisses, Bug (that was her nickname, really) turned in my arms and faced the same direction, her back against my chest and my arms around her waist. “Hold me, Tommy…” So my hands began to roam upward and soon I was caressing a pair of real-live tits. In those days bras were more like suits of armor than what comes from Victoria’s Secret nowadays, but it was little obstacle to a horny teenage boy. I don’t really recall if I ‘got tit’ (bare skin) on our first time or not, but I can recall that beautiful “hold me, Tommy…” today, fifty years (no kiddin’) later.
We dated through the rest of the summer. I learned that she was not a virgin (she had lost it to “a cad” in California and was glad to leave him). I learned that she had the most interesting breasts I had ever seen (of course all the others I had seen were in Playboy) as her areolae were puffy and stood proud of the surrounding surface of her breasts. I have seen very few breasts since then that share this feature, but I’m always looking for a repeat. I learned too that she was multi-orgasmic to an extreme that I have not encountered again (not that I’ve had much chance to mount a wide search).
Our usual course of ‘play’ was to begin kissing and proceed to petting. I could caress her lovely breasts for hours, it seemed, and she would just get hotter and hotter. I would finally move to her legs, which she would readily open, allowing me access to her crotch. This was the days that ‘nice’ girls did not go out with a young gentleman without hose, which had to be held up with a girdle. Most guys today have never even seen a girdle, much less tried to get past one, but it might as well have been a chastity belt. Finally she discovered that she could put on a garter belt (sinful invention!) and put her panties on over it, and convince her mother that she was properly dressed to go out for the evening — wearing hose, right? But when we parked, the panties came down a lot easier than the girdle, and the garter belt stayed up. I still love garter belts, to this day.
After a time of ardent kissing, Bug would usually go for my crotch about the same time I went for hers. She loved to caress my dick, all 6″ of it. This was most of what we did — mutual masturbation, thwy’d call it clinically today. I would kiss and caress those lovely breasts and finger her pussy until the panties came down, then lick her (the front seat was not too comfortable for oral sex, and we never got to the back seat) and play with her until she came — and came, and came. We used to keep count of her orgasms. “That was just a little one; should we count it?” “No, i’m sure we can do better. Let’s try again!” And so we got up to 28 one night. We only stopped because it was really late and her parents waited up.
When she caressed me, we used to try to see how long it would take for me to come. If it seemed I was taking longer than she expected, she would cry, “Think, Tommy, think!” I had always worn Jockeys for underwear, but boxers provided much easier access for her, so I switched that summer. Easier for her to feel my hard-on before even unzipping me, and easier to get it out once we opened my jeans.
In our youthful exhuberance we promised each other that we would marry “as soon as possible,” but neither one of us were of legal age. I was starting college in the fall, with no job, and she was going to be a sophomore due to a problem with out-of-state credits. Anyway, since I was a Young Gentleman, we promised each other that we would Wait Till We Were Married. But the day (or the night) came when she was more in-heat than ever, and pulled her panties all the way off, right there in the front seat. I moved over to align my body with hers, since we wanted to be “really touching” as much as we could. I moved my crotch to hers, and with a self-denial that I still don’t understand, humped her body and came on her tummy without entering her.
Since it seemed to her that I wasn’t going to go all the way with her, she started accepting the advances of another guy at our church, and soon she was telling me (we remained friends) that she “had to get married.” They did. She wasn’t. She had an ovarian cyst removed some months later, which had mimicked pregnancy in a palpation test.
As I said, we remained friends, even though she was married to a Former Best Briend. I never stopped trying to make out with her but never succeeded past a few kisses. Then three YEARS later, November 2, 1962, I came back to town from college for a football game and a date with somebody else. It was Saturday morning, and my date was not until midafternoon. I decided to go by the apartment where she and her husband were living; I knew he worked at the local newspaper and wouldn’t be home. She answered the door in a baby-doll pajama set, with a really short top that exposed most of her glorious breasts. We sat down on the sofa and I began kissing her and telling her how much I missed her. I caressed her as I had in the past, but this time I was unimpeded by Playtex or Warners’ obstacles. Pretty soon she said, “Tommy, do you want me?” Ohh gawd yes, I want you, I’ve wanted you ever since we met, I stammered. “Then come on,” she said, and took me by the hand into the bedroom. Down came the baby-doll panties, down went the boxers, and in the middle of all the frantic caresses and kisses, before I had a chance to finger her or kiss her breasts or go down on her or see that she was properly caressed and romanced, my rampant and long-denied staff finally scented the promised land and sank to the hilt in her incredibly wet honey hole. What an incredible feeling, to be finally joined with the girl of my (wet) dreams, even if it was three years and a wedding too late.
You think I’m going to tell you how I lasted so long and made her come 29 times, breaking our record? I wish. The anticipation and expectation had been so intense that I began ejaculatory contractions involuntarily as soon as my dick hit bottom in that glorious hole. It was so intense it didn’t even seem like the usual spasm, just one SPLOOGSH and then… And then as soon as she realized I had come she said, “You gotta get up, Barbara (sister-in-law) and Flossie (mother-in-law) are on their way over RIGHT NOW.” I barely got my pants up before the knock on the door came.
Epilogue: Nine months later, to the day, she delivered a fine young son. She never claimed to me that I was his father, even though I had seen him often while he was a baby and young boy and thought he looked like me. She was still married to Former Best Friend, of course, and was also seeing another guy at the same time. I made love to her twice more after that November Saturday, on different occasions, and can honestly say that she was absolutely the best I have ever had.
The summer her (our?) son was born I married a girl I had met and fallen in love with at college, and this year we will celebrate 45 years together. But Bug and I have remained friends through the years, and we enjoy playing What Might Have Been every time we get off by ourselves. But she told me once, and I agree, “Tommy, you married the right lady.”
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