As a 21-year-old guy I worked as a summer intern at a government agency. Also working at the agency was a beautiful 19-year-old girl, Karen. Karen had dark hair, nice round hips and a knockout smile. Karen seemed to like me and so, overcoming my shyness, I asked her out.
After a nice dinner date we ended up parked in her parents' driveway (she still lived at home). In my prior limited experience with girls, a goodnight kiss was all that could be had at the end of a first date. So it was a surprise and a pleasure when a kiss on the lips led to a deep exchange of tongues. Thus encouraged I felt Karen's breasts outside of her clothing. She wore a dress that buttoned in the back so I could not touch her breasts under her clothing. I knew the drill. You had to stop at second base before you could get to third-base. But I could not reach second base. Would she allow me to reach up her dress? After a cautious foray above her knee received no rebuff, I slid my hand up her pantyhose clad legs. Incredibly (it seemed incredible at the time), she did not object as my hand reached her pussy mound. In fact, as I kneaded her pussy with my hand, she spread her legs to allow me easier access. Greedy for more I went to her waistband so that I could reach down and place my hand on her wonderful female thing.
It was here that I faced my first real challenge. Karen was wearing a garment that I had never before encountered - a girdle. Why this shapely, tight young thing was wearing a girdle I still don't know. But there it was and it seemed to me to be a formidable barrier. In the past when I had been at this enchanted place it was fun, and no trouble at all, to reach under the elastic waistband of a light sexy panty. This was different. I had to pull at the waistband to get my hand underneath. After I penetrated this contraption it held my hand tightly against Karen's abdomen. I had to push back against the pressing girdle to continue south. In view of the effort, this was only happening because both of us really wanted this finger fucking to take place.
After several starts and stops -no rest for the weary- I felt the erotic touch of her pussy hair. There was no turning back now. I reached down until my middle finger found her pussy lips. I went inside to get her moisture. As I played with her we heard the wet squishy sounds of a girl being masturbated. With my finger now lubricated from the wet of her cunt I moved it to her clit. I worked her clit hoping she would come. After a few minutes I had to give up-to my frustration and, I am sure, to her greater frustration. My hand got fatigued pushing up against that damn girdle. Karen was too timid to complain as I pulled my hand free from the grip of the device. She also was too timid and, I later learned, too inexperienced to do anything about the steel rod in the pants of her newfound boyfriend. (On a later date I was to be the recipient of her first handjob.)
We composed ourselves and got to her front door. After a chaste final kiss we said goodnight. As I walked to the car I looked at my pants. I had leaked so much precum that I had a spot on the crotch. As I drove home I brought the middle finger of my left hand to my nose. It stunk of pussy. And I loved the stink. After this unexpectedly intense sexual encounter, I was one horny boy. In the dark of the night I considered beating off as I drove home. Discretion is the better part. I held off until I got home. There I had a long masturbation session recalling the events of the evening and imagining what we might do the next time we were together.
An aside: Maybe I am weird, but I count the first touch of a new lover's pussy hair as one of the great erotic pleasures. I know the current style is for a woman to be closely trimmed or even bald, but I can't see it. I have no interest in prepubescent girls so why would I like a bald pussy?