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First Time

Posted by: Author: Age: 64 Posted on: 0 comments
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This is absolutely true with no embellishment. Sorry if its a little long, I think you'll find it worth the time.


It was the early 1960's. I hadn't dated much in high school. I was five-six, with glasses, a band geek and an honor student, but that didn't do much for the girls. Now it was the summer of 1962, I was about to turn 17. It was a tradition at our school that juniors-about-to-be seniors who didn't go to their prom (a week before the senior prom) would go to the school (if the weather was nice) and just hang out on the big, wide gym steps outside and gab in loose groups, and that's what I did.

I got talking to a girl I knew casually from a few classes. She was pretty enough, not a raging beauty, and was a budding English major, honor student and chorus geek who hadn't had much of a social life either. Later I found out that she wanted to date someone who could teach her more about music.

We started dating over the summer, casually. By the time school started again in September we had got to kissing (remember, children, this was *1962!*) and by the middle of the fall we'd got into some petting in her living room after school - her mom was the rarity at that time, she worked full time. That's when I found out she was pretty flat-chested and wore a heavily-padded bra. Not that it mattered; I was 17, and touching any breasts at all, even flat ones with small nipples, gave me a raging erection. I was masturbating almost every night, usually to the centerfold pictures of Donna Michelle [look it up on the web - you'll see what I mean.]

Came New Year's eve, our first formal dating occasion. One of our group of three friends had a car, so three couples went out for dinner and dancing at a famous suburban night club. After midnight came and went, we drove back to the house of the guy that owned the car. It also happened that they had a finished carpeted attic rec room and that's where we headed. Each couple picked a corner, and my friend turned the lights off. It was pitch-dark, you couldn't see anything, even after we got adjusted to the darkness.

My girl and I laid down of course and started making out. We were trying not to make noise, and we could hear the other two couples not making noise the same way. It was harder getting my hands inside the top of the formal dress than it usually was just for her to unbutton her shirt so I could put a hand inside her bra, but we both wanted it to happen and it did. So far we were doing what we'd done before, just in the dark.

After a while I got brave, and put my hand on her leg.

[Now for you youngsters I'm going to digress a minute. This was 1962. Girls and women wore nylon or occasionally silk stockings, held up by a garter belt or girdle. There were heavy, thick wool or combination tights they wore in really cold weather, but pantyhose were just hitting the market, and wouldn't become widely available at a low price until almost 1970. Stockings gave you a marker: that few inches of thicker weave at the top, followed by the few more inches of bare leg leading to the panties or more usually a girdle. Those few inches were the most erotic skin there was, if you got there. You usually didn't.]

I kept rubbing her leg and moving my hand up ever-so-slowly, ever-so-slightly. I thought I was being soooo subtle; from the distance of all these years I'm sure she knew exactly what I was doing. I expected her to say stop, or grab my wrist any minute. BUT SHE DIDN'T!!! Eventually I felt that magic few inches of heavier weave. Oh. My. Gawd. Then a few minutes later, the holy grail of bare inner thigh, rubbing around her garters (which really weren't in the way). I had no idea how excited SHE was but I thought my cock was going to burst right out of my pants.

I stopped there for a while, not sure what was going to happen next. Then she moved her hips just... the... littlest... bit... and all of a sudden my fingers brushed the crotch of her panties, which was damp. Remember I had never experienced any of this before. This was 46 years ago and I've never forgotten it for a minute.

Through all this, which might have taken five minutes or might have taken an hour or more, we hadn't said a word, just kissed, wrapping our tongues around each other. I was rubbing up and down on her dampness, and then, maybe on purpose maybe not, her panties slipped to the side and for the first time in my life I was actually touching an actual girl's actual sexual parts. I felt her matted hair, and her slipperiness, and still she didn't stop me. So I went on, having no idea at all what I was doing, sliding my first two fingers up and down the length of her ever-damper slit. I didn't know from clitoris, or g spot (I'd read about the former, the latter hadn't been mentioned yet in public writing). And then, on one pass by, again purposely or not, a finger slipped inside. Maybe she moved her hips again, maybe it was me. I was so shocked I stopped dead, with one knuckle halfway in, and for the first time I spoke. 'Do you want me...' [hesitating] 'there?' I whispered, hoping the other couples couldn't hear.

She didn't answer in words. Instead she grabbed the back of my head, pulled my face to hers, mashed our lips together and tried to stick her tongue all the way down my throat. At the same time she thrust her hips up, not very hard but enough to get my finger all the way into her. Well what is a gentleman supposed to do? So I started thrusting in and out, eventually joining my middle finger with my index finger.

[One more aside. The last one, I promise. The summer before, I had read 'Rabbit Run' by the great John Updike. There's a phrase in which a character describes the inside of a woman as feeling like the inside of an old, worn silk ballet slipper. The phrase came to me then, because that's how I thought she felt - although I've never thought that about any other woman since.]

After a while, I started wiggling the two fingers along with the thrusting, and that's when she started muffled gasps, and I actually felt her contractions as well as the additional lubrication she generated.

That was a night of a lot of firsts: first time I touched a woman, first time I smelled that wonderful odor on my fingers, first time I'd take a woman to orgasm. I'd keep masturbating her, anywhere and everywhere, for most of our relationship, which would last until part way through our first year of college. I'd also keep getting blue balls, because over the whole time she only gave me two or three handjobs, and those only reluctantly. They were very unfullfilling. And as you might remember from my first story, I didn't actually get to see a woman orgasm for more than ten years after.

Thanks for reading.



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