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The French Kiss

Posted by: Author: Age: 66 Posted on: 2 comments
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The French Kiss

I was a junior in high school and sexually very inexperienced, as I guess most kids were in the late 1950's, despite what they claimed.

One warm autumn day at lunch period I was sitting on the grass with a few friends and Maureen was sitting next to me. She seemed to be leaning into me as we were shoulder to shoulder, and I slipped my arm around her waist. But for some reason I got really bold and moved my hand up her side so that I could rub the side of her breast with my thumb.

Let me pause here to give you some background about Maureen. She was very smart, an honor student. She was about 5'1', smallish breasts even for a 16 year old, and wide hips. She was not popular (most 'brains' were not), but for some reason she seemed to like me, but we never went out. In fact, I had never seen her outside of school. So when she did not object to my thumb on her tit, I was pleasantly surprised. After school, I ran home and jerked off remembering the feel of her soft tit on my thumb-the same thumb that was on the upper part of my dick when I was jerking it. The next day the lunch scene repeated itself. Same place, same thumb, same tit, same jerk-off when I got home.

The morning of the following day I saw Maureen prior to a class and she asked me if I could go to her house after school on Friday. She lived about a 10 minute bike ride from school in the opposite direction from me, but that would be no problem. She rode the school bus. I readily agreed and prayed it did not rain. But I for whatever reason I did not have lunch with her that day or any day before the scheduled visit to her house. I did see her in the hall on Friday and she asked me if we were still on for that afternoon and I said yes. I noted that she was wearing a full skirt (trendy back then) and a button-up-the-back white blouse.

Upon arriving at her house Friday afternoon, Maureen suggested I leave my bike in the back, and then led me downstairs to a finished basement where there were a few sofas and a nice TV, a small kitchen area and a refrigerator. She offered me a soda and took one for herself. I noticed that she was wearing the same skirt, but now wore a loosely fitting sweatshirt. It was a bit cool in the basement. We sat on a couch but not right next to each other, but not too far, either.

This seemed to be an awkward moment for both of us, but then Maureen asked, 'Do you know about French kissing?'

'Well,' I responded, 'I know what it is, yes.'

'Have you done it?'

'No, to be honest, I have not.'

'Me, either,' Maureen said. 'But I hear the girls on the bus say it is really hot.'

'Yeah,' I offered, 'that's what I hear the guys say, too. But I've not done it.'

'Well, I think we should do it,' she said. 'Why should we be in the dark? And besides, I let you touch the side of my breast, so it should be obvious to you that I like you, and I'd like to think that since you did that-TWICE-that you sort of like me, too. So ... what do you say?'

It was tough to argue with her logic. After all, I'd jerked off to the thought of her more than once, and probably would continue to do so. Maybe the tongue kiss would be a good idea. 'OK,' I said, 'who goes first?'

'No one goes first; we just kiss on the lips and then open our mouths a bit and push our tongues out a little and let them touch ..... I think. So let's just do that and see how it feels.'

So we got closer together and just as she instructed we began the French kiss. And it went fine; it was nice; and it was arousing, too. The first kiss was rather long as our tongues got used to the exercise and our mouths ground against each other. Maureen pulled away and said, 'Oh my God. I can't believe it. That was sooo great. Let's do it again.' So, we repeated the process with more confidence than the first time and I really started to enjoy it.

With that, Maureen picked up my hand and placed it right on her breast over her sweatshirt and with her hand coaxed me to gently massage her tit. I could feel her nipple begin to harden. And then she started to moan and coo into our kiss, and she put her hand behind my neck to pull our mouths closer together. I realized that I was now sporting a major boner which I tried to ignore.

Once again Maureen broke away and said, 'I am so wet. I can't believe how wet I am.'

'Wet?' I asked. 'What do you mean WET?'

'My vagina. It has gotten so wet. I mean, I often get wet, but not like this.'

'Well ........ Are you OK?' my dumb mouth asked. 'I mean, you, um ... like peed in your underwear?

'OK? Am I OK? I am so much better than OK. Don't you know about girls getting wet in the vagina?'

'No,' I confessed, 'I guess not.'

'Well, it's not pee. Vaginal wetness has a different viscosity than urine.' (If the word 'viscosity' in the middle of a sex conversation doesn't indicate how bright she is I don't know what does.) She continued her teaching lesson saying, 'It is a lubricant. OK, listen. Guys get erections, right?'

'Yeah, right.'

'Alright,' she continued. 'You know about intercourse, right?'

'Sure, and I also know that you can get into a lot of trouble with it.'

'Yes, yes,' she continued, 'but a girl gets wet in the vagina to make the erect penis slide in and out more comfortable during intercourse. But she only gets wet when she is turned on. If she doesn't like the guy she probably won't get wet. But sometimes just thinking about a guy she likes will make her get wet even if he is no where near. Just like you might get an erection without a gal being around. Understand?'

'Yeah, I guess so,' I said.

'Good,' Maureen replied. 'Now as I was saying, I am very, very wet right now from you being here, French kissing, and you touching my breast. I have never, ever been as wet as I am. And my clit is on fire.'

'Your .....clit ..... is on fire?' the dumb mouth asked?

'Yes.' And then she shocked me by saying, 'I just want to masturbate and cum.'

'You masturbate, too? Ooops, I mean .... well you know, guys do that. But YOU, I mean, girls do , too?'

'Of course I do, and yes, other girls do, too. Let me ask you, and please don't be embarrassed, but how often do you jerk off?'

Oh, boy. I never wanted to answer that question when the guys talked about jerking off. But now Maureen was asking me. Should I tell her the truth? Would she think I was bragging, or a pervert. 'Well, isn't that kind of personal, Maureen?'

'OK, maybe it is, but I'll tell you that I do it at least once a day, except when I have my period. The days you touched my breast in the school yard I did it three times. Once as soon as I got home, again when I took my shower after supper, and again before I went to sleep. I like touching my breasts, but to have you do it was special and just turned me on so much I had trouble studying. So, what about you?'

Here goes, what the hell. 'The same-at least once a day, sometimes two or three times. And yes, I did it, too, as soon as I got home those days you mentioned, and I will today, too.'

'I've got an idea,' Maureen said. 'Why don't we masturbate now, right here. As I said, I really want to do it, and I'd love to watch you do it, too. What do you say? OK?'

I thought the suggestion would make me cum in my pants. I could not believe what I was hearing. In fact, I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. 'You mean you really want me to jerk off here? Right in front of you?'

'Yep,' she answered, 'and I want you to ejaculate your sperm on my breasts. Oh God, I can't wait to see it and feel it. Come on, let's get started.' And with that she lifted her sweatshirt over her head and removed it.

And there they were. Two small, but nicely shaped orbs with nice very erect pink nipples looking right at me. She had obviously removed her blouse and bra before I got there. And just as quickly she lifted her skirt up to her hips revealing a pair of plain, white cotton panties. My mouth would have hit the floor if my hardon did not stop it on the way. 'Well, come on, let's get with the program,' she urged me.

I stood, unbuckled my jeans, lowered the zipper and pushed them down around my knees. My stiff cock was standing straight up towards my belly button and straining against my white jockey shorts. I hesitated as I placed by hands on the elastic waist band of the jockeys. 'Are you really certain about this, Maureen?' I asked.

'Look, there are only two things that have kept me from taking these soaking wet panties off. First, I don't want to miss a thing that you are doing. I think I am going to relive this afternoon many, many times for a long time to come. And second, I want to ask you to do something for me before we really get into masturbating. I want you put your hand on my panties over my vagina and rub me a little.' And with that she reached out for my hand, raised her heels up on the couch and spread her legs. I could see a large wet spot and figured that was where she wanted me to touch her, but she left no doubt as she brought my hand to the right place. I had no sooner felt the wet cotton when she thrust her hips up and forward increasing the pressure on my hand.

And, as she usually always was about everything else, she was right about the texture of her wetness. It was not like sweat or pee. It was almost like an oil. And I became aware of an intoxicating aroma emanating from between her thighs. It was a musky smell unlike anything else I had ever experienced. Not like a perfume or a body odor. It was unique to my senses. And I would not soon forget it.

'OK, let me see it,' see commanded. 'I want to see your penis.' I reluctantly removed my hand from her panties, and with my thumbs I lowered my shorts down over the head and shaft of my cock and to mid-thigh. My dick immediately shot straight out, and I swear it vibrated up and down like a diving board. Maureen gasped and commented about how much pubic hair I had (quite a lot). 'Not like me,' she said, 'here look.' As she was saying this she stood up and quickly lowered and stepped out of her panties. But she was soon covered up by the falling skirt that had been gathered around her waist while she was sitting on the sofa. But just as quickly she dropped down to the sofa again and resumed her previous position. I could see her puffy pussy lips quite clearly as she had only a little pubic hair on the lower part of her abdomen. And I could also see a little nub peeking out from the top of her slit.

Maureen wasted no time as she dropped her fingers of her right hand to her pussy and starting rubbing while saying to me, 'Come closer to me and play with yourself. Come on, hurry; I won't take long now.' I grabbed my shaft with my right hand and thought to myself that I'd probably cum within five strokes, so what's the hurry. With her left hand she began to caress her tits, but then said, 'I want you to touch my breasts while you masturbate your penis.'

So now I was standing right next to her with my left hand first caressing her right tit and then her left one then moving back and forth alternating between the two little mounds. I was stroking my cock slowly with my right hand. Maureen had her right hand between her legs and she was rubbing her slit about ten times faster than I was stroking. Her hand as a blur. The sound of her wetness was about the only thing you could hear in the room until Maureen began a low moan that gradually increased in pitch and loudness building and building.

That (and everything else) got to me and I knew I was near to shooting a load. 'Uh, uh,' I half-grunted. 'I'm gonna cum. Oh, yes, oooh, yesss.'

'Oh, cum, please cum on my breasts. Oh, yes, I am near it, I am going .... I am going to, I am .... Ooooooh.' Her hips rose and fell against her tireless fingers, over and over again, thrusting upward, as her pussy reached for the ultimate climatic release.

Not to be left out, I began squeezing my cock harder and pumping faster. I (we, as it turns out) were rewarded with spurt, after spurt, after spurt of cum from my dick landing first on her left tit, then my hand as I was caressing her right tit, then her chin, and finally two more weaker spurts landed on her public hair and her fingers while they were on her pussy.

'Oh my God. Oh, my God, ' sighed Maureen. 'Oh, that was great. That was the best! Umm, so much semen, oh God, oh my. Oh, I am going to taste it. Mmm, oh, never, never, oh, so good.' She licked my cum from her fingers first, then she scooped it from her chin and licked it off, next was her left tit, followed by another dip into her pubic hair for some more.

The slamming of a car door broke the spell. 'My mom's home,' warned Maureen, 'Get dressed.' Then as I was pulling my jockeys and my jeans up she said, 'Here, think of me,' and she tossed me her still soaked panties. I stuffed them into my jeans pocket. And I still treasure that memory, 50 years later. Damn, I wish I knew where she was now.



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