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My Unusual First Time Ch. 01

By: djeroticon



It was the early 1960's in small-town Connecticut. I had just turned 18 and would graduate high school in a few months. Having the grades to go to Yale if I wanted to, and the parents that could finance it, what was missing was self-confidence. 

Part of it was my non- success with girls. The other was that I was 6 foot two and 165 pounds. Add to that skinny kid a pair of eyeglasses and the occasional zit, and you've got one big case of lacka ego.

Of course I blamed my absence of experience with women on what I perceived to be my awkward, Poindexter looks (Poindexter was a science nerd, before the words nerd or geek were even around). Today I see young ladies hanging all over fellows that look now pretty much like I did then, and acting like they can't get enough of the guys, so I figure I was just born ahead of the times. Or cursed. Take your pick.

Anyway, President Kennedy had only been laid to rest about 6 months when I turned 18, so the country wasn't in any rollicking good mood. The Beatles had just started to raise everyone's standards of listening on this side of the Atlantic, so the forthcoming Youth Revolution I remember so well wasn't there to thrust me (yet) into a world of long hair on men, Free Love, and the any-excuse-to-get-high life that would soon rule many of my generation.

So, I made do with masturbating. It's not like I had a choice; my dick would get hard if I just got a glimpse down a well-filled blouse on the cafeteria line at school, for crying out loud, in those days. 

Vital to this world of unfortunate self-help necessity was the finagling, by whatever means necessary, of men's magazines. Playboy (Penthouse and pubic hair weren't out yet), Gent, Adam, Nugget and other magazines, now long forgotten, passed around between us boys (especially my fellow losers) like prized possessions. I shoplifted 'em whenever I could get away with it, not that many stores had them right out on the racks next to Good Housekeeping. Being skinny was great for shoplifting, especially in the winter when I could wear a large coat. Not that I recommend any such thing.

Myself and Edward Brenner were especially palsy when it came to these magazines, swapping them on a regular basis. Often we'd get together to peruse them at Ed's older brother's house, a roomy old place on the opposite side of town, past all the auto repair shops. I'd ride my bike there with a few magazines tucked inside my shirt and just down the front of my pants. Ed actually kept his stash at his brother's house, in the guest bedroom upstairs.

It's not like Ed and I pleasured ourselves in front of each other as we looked at these mostly black and white shots of topless women and bare behinds. We were friends anyway, so it seemed like a natural extension to admit we couldn't get enough of looking at naked women, even the often-mediocre beauties like those featured in such disposable rags. We started out in our early teens looking at worn old copies out in the woods, borrowed from the bureaus of our respective dads, so this was not some new preoccupation for either of us. 

I'm sure we were both aware of what we used such pictures for when no one else was around, we just never spoke of it to each other, you see.

The reason for this whole reminiscence I've been putting you through is that Ed's brother's house was where I would have my first female sexual encounter, albeit a weird one.

Harland was Ed's brother, and he was about six foot and built like the construction foreman he was. A mean-looking face, I remember, but nice as you could get. I never saw him raise his hand or voice to anybody, and he seemed always happy to see the two of us (me and Ed) despite being almost eight years older than us. I had my first beers from his fridge, and learned to hate my first cigarette from his offered pack of Chesterfields. Thank you, Harland. 

Since we were there a couple times a week, we took notice whenever Harland had a girlfriend. Sometimes Ed and I would speculate on whether Harland was "getting any" from any particular lady friend or other, or euphemisms to that effect. We figured he was. It was easier to identify with him that way. Life is more exciting imagining yourself a winner, even if you think you're a loser.

His latest was Rosemary, Rose for short, and she was remarkable not only for being prettier than the others but also because she actually said hello to Edward and me, whereas her predecessors would have barely glanced in our general direction if we were on fire.

I don't know why, but she made me blush when she simply said hello. Even a needful geek like me could generally hold his own by 18 in a conversation with a woman, or fake it, but I just got hot in the face with her. One time she smiled in amusement when she saw that flush creep up my neck. I cursed myself for days.

We didn't see her much at first but soon it was evident she'd moved in with Harland, which was a surprise. Women didn't usually move into a guy's digs at that time without being married to him first, not even if the house was out past the auto yards. She'd be in the living room watching Art Linkletter when the two of us would ride up on our bikes from school and nod hello on our way up to the guest bedroom, to check out this month's Swank, or whatever. 

She was usually in Capri-type slacks and one of Harland's shirts, like Laura Petrie from The Dick Van Dyke Show. Rose was about thirty, or so seemed it to me, with shoulder-length chestnut hair done casually in a sort of flip. She had a pretty, white and pink complexion with more than a hint of Irish ancestry. Her eyebrows were very soft looking, I remember, over those grey-green eyes. 

Since in those days at least half of my brain concentrated on undressing women mentally and trying to guess what they'd look like, I speculated that she had medium breasts with large brown nipples (I figured that for all brunettes, and was often wrong), a reasonably trim waist, and medium hips with probably a roundish ass.

If you're wondering why I didn't daydream about her vagina, the answer's simple: men's mags, the type we could get, weren't showing any. Any way possible NOT to show the pubic area was used in the photographers' set-ups. Now it seems silly, but back then such a concept (to actually show the area of a woman's body that men's libidos are most interested in, to oblige the very target audience the magazine is aimed at) would have seemed "too dirty." 

Regularly-obtainable pornography was a myth where I lived, so that was out. Even if you managed to flush out an old nudist magazine (and who would want to, with their average-looking people and their airbrushed private parts?) you never saw anything but maybe the hint of an opening between a woman's legs, probably just by accident due to an airbrusher falling asleep on the assembly line from boredom. Oh, yeah, and those wonderfully illustrated medical textbooks....I forgot to mention those. Next paragraph!

It didn't occur to me at first that Rose might wonder what two young guys were doing using a third guy's house after school or on a Saturday, squirreled away no matter the weather. Any excuse that we were "studying" wouldn't cut it for too long. She probably wondered if we were homosexual.

With Harland often away supervising a steady succession of construction sites (Connecticut was still booming in our area those days because of its proximity to New York City), we observed that Rose would sometimes have a bottle of Southern Comfort on the lamp stand next to her chair, keeping her company as she watched TV. Sometimes we'd sit with her and talk (in my case, just nodding a lot) and have a beer while she mixed the sweet-smelling liquor with ginger ale in an iced glass. 

She was an interesting talker, giving us tips on movies we should get out and see or TV shows she liked or books she'd recently read, but mostly inviting Ed and I to talk about school and what we planned after graduation. We did our best for a while and then went upstairs, as usual. Like I say, this was a couple times a week, so she must have wondered.

One Saturday afternoon I remember Ed and I were loudly admiring a Natalie Wood look-alike model (well, he thought she looked like Natalie but I wasn't so sure). This model was spread all over a modern apartment set, languidly eyeing the camera with a sultry expression as she almost revealed her privates from behind (on all-fours on the couch), or almost showed what was above her inner thigh (in the kitchen, stretching to reach something in the cabinet; too bad about that strategically-placed bowl on the glass counter). 

I recall we were debating whether that just-got-laid look on the model's face meant she had slept with the photographer. I liked to have such fantasies, so it was probably me taking the position that the model and the (no-doubt, studly) photog had done exactly that, and graphically describing the positions the two had used. We didn't hear the knock at the door, or that Rose had opened it.

One thing you always dreaded in adolescence was an adult catching you doing something forbidden. I don't mean like grabbing a smoke out by the back door of the gym. Something you would be REALLY ashamed of. Like, for instance, lounging on a bed with about a dozen or so men's magazines open. Or, maybe, loudly using a phrase like "screwing like a mink" when describing the action in such a magazine to your friend. I figured we were dead.

Nobody said anything for a while. Ed looked sick. After all, this was his brother's girl. Ed stood more of a chance of being disowned from his family than did I for this sin. Me, I'd probably just be grounded for six or seven years. Yes, a high school senior could still be grounded by his or her parents, back then. True fact.

Rose was looking steadily at me as she crossed the room and avoiding looking down, for now, at the variously displayed women. I couldn't read the expression on her face, but thought maybe it was concern crossed with amusement. She didn't look at Ed.

"Geez, we didn't hear you knock" came from my lips, lamely. Like that was an excuse. Funny, for the first time in her presence my face wasn't hot, and my dick was still hard. Like I said, it would get that way back then from the merest suggestion of sex, so, having been quite aroused for at least an hour before Rose came in it might take awhile to subside, even under a circumstance such as this. 

"Yeah" Ed nodded. "Sorry if we were loud." Oh, good one, Ed. 

"I just wondered if you two would like a little supper, was all. I was getting hungry and was going to reheat some chicken." Now her eyes rested for a moment on the magazine nearest her, directly below her gaze as she stood by the bed, just a moment to verify what was expected, before returning to mine. Yes, they were dirty magazines. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I knocked twice, you see" she added in an even voice.

"It's okay" both of us chimed. Rose didn't say anything for a few seconds, just kept looking at me. I could smell the liquor, but she didn't seem drunk. In fact, she looked rather pretty and friendly, like usual.

"Uh, I'm gonna be getting home for dinner, but thanks anyway, Rose" piped-in Ed, practically jumping to his feet. He looked at me to see what I was planning, but I couldn't budge. Then he looked at all the magazines, made for a moment like he would help to put them away, and then thought better of it and began to sidle his way around the bed.

"Okay, Eddie" observed Rose, looking full at him now but seeming not to be taking any great pains to avoid talking about what we all knew to be on the bed. "See you later this week." Ed nodded, squeezed by her, and was gone. I remember wondering if we'd ever again get together to check out the latest skin mag. Maybe not.

I don't know why I felt calm about this, after the initial adrenaline rush. Something in Rose's manner as she surprisingly settled her behind onto the lower corner of the bed and idly leafed through a copy of Playboy, I suppose. I noticed how quiet the room, the whole house, was. I tried to think of something to say. Maybe I needn't try?

"I hope you aren't ashamed," she said. This struck me strongly, because she was right: I wasn't ashamed. But, wasn't I supposed to be? "These were all over the house when I was a kid. Did I tell you we had eight people in the place, including my older brothers and a couple of unmarried uncles?"

"Um, no. We haven't talked about your family" I replied politely, watching the curls of hair that draped over her shoulder move as she continued to leaf through the pages. At least it's Playboy, I remember thinking, meaning I was glad it wasn't one of the less-classy ones in our collection. "Where are you from?"

"Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania" she sighed. "Heard of it? Not far from Scranton. Like I said, lot of people in a little house. You learn to tolerate and understand a lot in a small house with a large family." Her voice was almost a whisper, like she was remembering some incident or other from her past. I liked the sound of it.

"What's the story with you and Ed here, wasting time on these?" It wasn't an accusatory tone she used, but her question still cut at me. Her hand moved to a Gent issue and drew it to her side on the bed. The cover model was spilling over her hands as she cupped her breasts and hid the nipples from view.

"Old habit, I guess." I surprised myself as the truth of what I just said came through. It really was a sort of bad habit, more than anything else. I suppose I'd thought of it like this: I'd quit looking at these cheap magazines as soon as I had a girlfriend and didn't need to masturbate. Now, suddenly, that thinking just seemed foolish.

Rose turned her head to smile at me. "I guess we all have those. Bad habits, I mean."

"Ed and I have sort of traded these for a long time, ever since....." I trailed off, trying to think how far back it was. "Well, you know..."

"Yes" she agreed. "I know." Had she just stolen a glance downward at my pants, or was I imagining things? If she had, could she tell anything? I wasn't as hard now as before, but I figured there was something showing, still.

"All I mean, Danny" she said, using my name for the first time that day, "is that you should be out going after what you want, instead of looking. You're not an ogre, you know. Aren't there any girls who'll go out with you?" She turned on the bed so she could face me more comfortably. It was weird, having this sudden heart-to-heart with an older woman who absently held a magazine in her hand that I'd used many times as an aid to masturbation. I could practically tell you the phony names of every nude model in that issue, I'd used it so much.

Now I blushed. Again, Rose hadn't used any sarcastic tone of voice or even seemed impatient with me. That was the good part. The bad was that she had my number. Nothing worse in life, I've learned, for the ego, there's nothing more unnerving than someone who sees through the bullshit and has your number. If I said anything false now, Rose would be able to tell.

"I haven't really made the effort." There, it was out. "Too scared I guess." Part of me was suddenly aware that I was having a real conversation with this woman, for the first time since we'd met. Another part of me was also aware that she was getting more attractive as we talked. It was as though by trying to help me Rose was exuding some sort of warmth. I understood in an instinctive way why Harland had wanted her to move in, and I remember thinking that he'd better hurry up and marry her because this was a woman you could talk to.

Rose smiled and reached out to touch my face. I didn't flinch. Her eyes were bemused and the grey-green combination seemed to burn at me with hidden mirth. Or so I imagined. Her hand felt cool against my face. "Trust me, we all look just like that" she grinned, waving at the magazines around us. "Or some variation of that. Nothing you should be scared of, Danny."

She pulled back and put her hands in her lap, studying me. "If you're anything like my Uncle Rob, you're probably at yourself all day over these." Again she gestured around us. Before I could protest what she'd said or even feel the embarrassment that was rushing forward because of it, she continued.

"He had a collection that rivaled anyone's, at least anyone I knew. I'd go by his room and hear him in there, sometimes three times a day. I knew what he was doing. He was loud." Rose giggled and I liked the sound so much I didn't even feel that huge rush of embarrassment I'd expected. My face was still red, but getting cooler. Hell, here I was in a bedroom with a woman amusingly referring directly to a guy jerking off, and I hadn't been struck dead or anything else. I was liking her more and more by the minute.

"It seemed a shame, actually" she continued, after her giggling was under control. "Several girls in the town asked me about him all the time, you know, with that very interested attitude. Rob could have had his pick. Eventually he figured things out and ended up with a great wife. We poke fun about his obsession at family holidays, but he's okay about things now."

She eyed me as if to see if any of this was getting through. Of course it was, but my defenses were up automatically, still. I really didn't feel like admitting to anyone that I was wasting my time doing something that felt so good, even if I knew she was right. I instinctively stalled.

"But it's not like I'm hurting anyone. And, well, I can't help it. I just get the urge. I don't know if you can understand."

"Because I'm a woman?"

"No, no, I don't mean anything like that. I mean because I can't get up the nerve to try to get anywhere with a girl. I just think it would turn out bad."

"I see." Rose studied me again. Her expression was perplexed and seemed a tad frustrated. I saw that she was at a line and she didn't know whether to cross it. Little could I know what she was considering. What happened next was never even in my fantasies, that's how far out in left field it seemed.

"I'll help you if you let me." With that Rose calmly began gathering up the magazines and putting them in a neat pile on the dresser, letting me chew on her offer. Of course I couldn't know what help meant, in her plan. I first thought she would try to set me up with someone, then I thought maybe she'd try to talk to me to build up my confidence, or something. 

The idea of a set-up date terrified me more than one I might try to arrange for myself, so I immediately rejected that thought. Talking might help, but wasn't Harland going to be home in a little while?

"How?" was my carefully thought-out reply. No sense assuming anything, my biology teacher always told the class.

"Well, first we'd work on the sex thing and then I'll help you know what to do to get women to like you, I guess. It's clear you need some building up, you know?"

All I heard was "the sex thing", naturally. Did she mean...?

"That is, if you'll keep quiet about it. I have a good thing with Harland, we may be in love, so if you're not as mature as I think we can stop right now."

Confused, I got up to walk around the room. I turned to look at her as though for the first time. What had I gotten into here? Suddenly I was threatening my best friend's brother's happiness, or something? And what was "work on the sex thing" about.

"You want a drink, come downstairs and I'll get you a beer" was Rose's way of dealing with my confusion. She walked out and stepped lightly down the stairs. She seemed happy. Before I got up the nerve to follow I took the time to put away the magazines in the closet, up in the ceiling pocket that was there, just like an eave. I wondered if I'd ever retrieve them from that hiding spot again. 

She was in the living room pouring a Schlitz from the can into a tall glass for me by the time I got there. The TV was off. She set the glass on a coaster by the chair opposite hers and then turned to sit. She raised her Southern Comfort and ginger and we saluted each other.


My Unusual First Time Ch. 01



A drink was what I needed, all right. I felt it flow through my tense body as Rose began talking to me about channeling my energy into something more positive, about how I was a good-looking guy who needed maybe a few pounds, a new style of glasses and some clothes that fit me right. It was a testament to how much I already trusted her that I only internally winced in pain about a hundred times as she very nicely picked over the carcass of my self-confidence.

The beer was halfway gone when I started to really feel it kick in. I managed to get one only once or twice a month (the drinking age was 21 then), so I had a low tolerance. It was a good feeling, but I put the glass down and didn't pick it up again that day. No sense missing out on any of this extraordinary event in my life.

"So, the way I see it is you need to stop being solitary with your desire" she was saying, "and branch out to show how you feel to actual women, girls. Not some picture. You need to let them see how you yearn for them. To make contact. But it has to start easy, with no big deal about it, right?"

Sounded good, and I was impressed with the way she seemed a natural at giving advice. The words she used were put together well. I could almost conceive of myself following through. Almost. I nodded to her and received a smile in return.

"Good. So, if you're ready and relaxed, let's go back upstairs." She drained her glass and got to her feet. 

Go back upstairs? For what? Whatever it was, this seemed like we were going too far. 

"How about Harland?"

"Gone on a job" she replied over her shoulder as she started to make her way up the stairs. "Back on Tuesday. But he has nothing to do with this and you won't talk about it with anyone, will you." It wasn't a question.

"I-I don't, I mean I...." was my articulately-put protest, but I don't think she heard me, since it came out like a whisper. I watched her re-enter the guest bedroom, thankful in the back of my mind that she hadn't gone into hers.

It was a big step to go up there, but I made myself do it. So, my first time was going to be with an older woman, in her home. No problem. Piece of cake. I guess I surprised myself by not rushing out the door. The rest of that beer looked very tempting, but I managed to leave it behind. In the end, it was simple curiosity that pushed me up those steps.

Rose was sitting on the bed in those Capri slacks and that man's shirt. It was white, I remember, striped with some pale blue and black lines. She wore black flats, nothing remarkable about them as I recall. Her face was a little pink, probably from the liquor. Her hands were palm down against the bed, her knees together. She wore a pleasant, friendly expression. We could be about to discuss remodeling the room.

"Have you ever seen a woman naked, other than in pictures?"

"No." That wasn't true, actually, because once when I was much younger I saw a friend's mother in the shower, just for a few moments when I accidentally went in to use the bathroom. I figured that didn't count.

"So I guess that would really get you excited, right? A naked woman posing for you?"

I just stared. This was all happening, but it really couldn't be.

Rose didn't need an answer, of course. "When you're playing with yourself do you like to be in a particular position?"

"Huh? Oh. I see. I mean, like maybe sitting down or lying in bed. Okay. I guess, sitting down." I realized suddenly that I was hard again, my cock tip brushing tightly against the vent of my Fruit of the Looms, and no doubt making a tent in the front of my Robert Hall slacks.

"Good. Then you should probably sit down in that chair" she said lightly, like we were just going to get good and comfy with each other. She didn't move, but watched as I settled into the plush fabric of the chair. It was roomy. Rose, I noticed, was now looking at my pants. The whole house again seemed quiet. You couldn't even hear traffic from up the main road. I idly remembered that my parents would wonder why I was late for dinner, but to hell with it I was 18 now and could figure out some excuse.

"We're just doing this part to get some stuff out of your system" she let me know as she stood and began unbuttoning the sleeves of her shirt. "I know how it can be, growing up with boys and men. I kind of like it, actually, that they can't keep their hands off themselves at your age. Still, it is a waste." There was a bit more emphasis in her words now, and I realized she might be getting more than just the fun of being the teacher out of this afternoon. That made me feel better.

"Slow or fast?" she asked. At my quizzical expression, she added: "Taking my clothes off, I mean. What's better for you, slow or fast." She had the shoes off now and the shirt was halfway unbuttoned down the front. She also had moved closer to me, standing maybe five or six feet away.

"Slow, I think." Like women peeled off for me every day, right? And, of course by now I'd have a preference. Slow sounded good.

"I thought so. And real close, probably, also." Without waiting she did exactly that, stepping across the carpet to stand within two feet of my shoes. I could see her white Playtex bra front within the opening of her shirt. The tops of her breasts could just be discerned.

She said nothing for a while as she slowly unbuttoned the shirt completely and slid it off. Like I said, it was a man's shirt so it just seemed to disappear off her with a simple shrug. I didn't see it fall to the floor because my eyes were alternating between her own and the sight of her from the waist up in just a bra.

It was certainly not a sexy brassiere. It was utilitarian, it did the job. But, it did contain a well-formed pair of breasts, ones that seemed nicely in proportion with her waist and hips. Losing that shirt was a revelation, as I could now see that Rose had a classic figure, and skin that looked soft and smooth and unmarked. Her waist was not tiny but neither was it wide in relation to the swell of her hips, which curved out perfectly just under the waistband of her slacks. Her navel was a cute little indentation line that ran about an inch before curling into its opening, like an upside-down question mark.

"I hope you aren't going to be shy" Rose observed, nodding pointedly at my lap as she teasingly reached back behind herself with both hands to start on her bra clasp. This thrust her breast flesh out to where it spilled a bit over the front of her undergarment. "You need to have some relief, I'm assuming. That's what we're doing here, you know."

With that she did a slow turn to reveal that her busy fingers had opened all but one of the hooks of her bra clasp. With her back to me I had the momentary privacy to do exactly as she said and fish my straining erection out of the confines of both slacks and briefs. It filled my hand with warmth and pleasure and the urgent feeling of need; I'd have to take it easy on myself here, I knew, or this would be over in a few seconds. 

With the clothes all tight against me I decided to pull my slacks down to my knees and extract my balls from the pouch of my underwear, as well. They felt very swollen, probably just my imagination. I fought to banish all worries that Rose might not "like" the looks of my equipment when she turned around again, instead opting to concentrate on getting re-situated in the chair and to watch as she opened that final hook.

Which she did in another moment or two, letting her shoulders stoop forward so the shoulder straps of the bra could slip off her arms. I could see the faint lines on her back of a bikini line, where the sun hadn't reached last season or so. I saw how nicely her shoulders were formed as she straightened back up, the bra on the floor now with her shirt, her hair resting at just the right point on her back and on those shoulders. I even liked the backs of her feet, which could be seen under her slacks.

When she turned there was little artifice or tease about it. She just presented her breasts to me as she took in the sight of this skinny teenager sitting in a chair gripping his cock. We both breathed in. I hoped she did for the same reason as I, for her tits were the stuff I dream about even today. You can use all the terms like perfectly-formed or well-rounded or what-have-you, but any man knows when an exceptional pair of breasts meet his gaze. 

Her nipples weren't brown but instead light pink, with large areolas that were a darker shade. They looked erect to me but perhaps hers were always like that. They sat just a bit high on the weight of her breast flesh, seeming to point slightly upward. Her breasts had just the correct amount of droop to them, just enough to bring a nice soft shadow to the undersides. Not sag, mind you, but droop. I was in awe, being at the time more of a breast than ass fancier. More about that another time.

"You get very red" she observed. I thought she might mean my neck and face until I saw that Rose was studying my cock as I feasted on her naked breasts. "You aren't about to- -"

"No, no" I quickly interrupted. "It just gets like that." She smiled and stepped closer to me, bringing that marvelous bosom with her. She knew I'd want to see her more close-up and at the same time she wanted to appraise me, that was clear. 

"Stroke it a little" she teased, and when I numbly reached out to try for one of her nipples she pulled back with a laugh. "No, silly. Your cock."

Hearing that word from her mouth was like a shock treatment. No girl ever said cock, did she? Not even grown women. It was so dirty. If I had been stroking myself right then I would have lost it immediately. I remember I actually gasped out loud.

"What? Oh, I said cock. Cock cock cock. You like that? How about cunt? Or fuck? Then there's always the ever-popular pussy."

I stared at her in amazement. Until this moment I would of course have no idea that a soft spot in my libido would be a pretty girl talking dirty. How would I know, since no girl or adult female I'd known had ever said such things aloud. With Rose speaking like this it was all I could do not to groan out loud in lust.

Rose couldn't help but bust out giggling. "You should see your face" she laughed, and soon enough she had me laughing as well. I must have looked very goofy sitting there with it all hanging out and getting this crazy look of shock on my face, it's true. She reached to touch my face quickly as we both quieted down, then told me I was sweet, and then asked if I wanted her to pose any particular way.

Did I ever. But right now I was so screwed up between laughter, lust, embarrassment, a half-a-beer, and the overall strangeness of these events that I wasn't exactly at my best in the speaking intelligently department. Plus, in the midst of our laughter I had quickly flashed on my friend Edward, wondering if he knew I was still at his brother's house. That was a worry. I couldn't tell Ed about this, not ever.

"The reason I ask is, well Danny, you look close to, you know, at least to my eyes, and since this is your first time I'd like it to be as you want, once I get the rest of my clothes off. You know?" Her voice was a bit distracted, as her gaze was on my stiff shaft and the swollen balls beneath, in fact Rose looked like it was all she could do not to grab it (or was that my wishful thinking?). "It's no big deal if you can't wait, just go ahead and finish. But if you slow down I'll pose anyway you want me. I know you must have favorites. Like in the magazines."

"It's only that you're so beautiful, Rosemary" I said sincerely. "I can't believe you're doing this." Idly, almost unconsciously, I ran my fist up and down my dick, feeling a drop of precum smearing on my fingers as I excruciatingly caressed just the glans for a moment.

"I'm just the first naked girl you've seen in the flesh, is all" she replied with a friendly grin, bringing her breasts down to within a foot of my face. I could see the dimpled skin surrounding her protruding nipples, inside the darker rings. Yes, I believe she was finding this quite enjoyable, teasing me, teasing us. "Only I'm only half nude. So hold on."

Rose slid out of the Capri's more quickly than I expected, kicking them away so I could see her white panties and smooth, long legs. I noticed she was touching her breasts from time to time as she made a show of turning this way and that to reveal her sexy bottom encased in those panties, and that she steadily watched me play openly with my erection while doing so. My cock was alive with nerve endings, making it feel positively huge in my fist. I had never seen the head swell larger, that was true. It still amazes me that I held off in coming – I'd seen more than enough to cause it, for sure. 

I liked the way the vee of her panties was darker than the rest of the material, which meant there was actual honest-to-god pubic hair under there trying to peek through. I tried to imagine what her vagina would look like.

She walked over to the side of my chair to first bend forward and tease me with those luscious tits again for some moments, then turning to bend in the opposite direction, bringing her underwear-clad backside close to my face. I could see the division of her ass cause the opaque cotton to adapt to her shape as it stretched over her roundness. "Oh, Rose" I recall saying.

"Is that what you like, Danny?" she asked, craning her head to look at me even as she held that position. I nodded. "You want me to take the panties off?" I groaned in agreement and had to completely stop my self-pleasuring for fear of going off that second. "Right here, like this? Or maybe on the floor?"

"On the floor?" I muttered. My head was in a daze. I think all of the blood in my body was elsewhere. My eyes were burning holes in that underwear.

Without answering Rose gently got to her knees on the carpet and moved herself inside my legs. She my slacks down to my ankles. Her touch was like a fire on me, even though all she used was her fingertips, and those barely grazed my skin. For a moment while she pulled my slacks down her pretty face was in front of and beneath my leaking penis, and she took that moment to appraise me from that angle.

"You have to go home in these" she mused aloud, meaning the slacks, speaking almost to herself as she drew first one leg and then the other over my shoes and out from under them. She tossed the slacks behind me and then was turning before I knew what she was doing, getting into an all-fours position facing away from me.

I could now open my legs freely and needed to, for Rose backed herself in close and used her calves to move my shins apart. I was presented with her backside, not two feet away from my raging hard-on. Above it was her long back and the pretty profile of her face as she strained to look back at me. She had an almost mischievous expression.

"Is this good?" It was a purposely-leading question. This was the most sexualized moment of my life and it was about to reach its peak. What could be better? "Good" was not the word to use.

"Thank you, Rose" was my only way to answer.

"You're welcome" was the cheeky reply. "Are you comfortable? Ready for me to roll my panties down?" I swear, with such words coming out of her to accompany the scenery, I cannot imagine how I withstood it! 

I had already drawn myself as close to the edge of the chair as possible and still be defined as sitting; any more to the edge and I'd fall off. Before me and below me was the nice, rounded set of ass cheeks of a woman I could fall in love with in a heartbeat. Above that were her eyes, watching me. In my hand was my aching cock. And, I was about to see in the flesh that which I had never beheld, the private areas of this same woman. 

And, it was 1964, and I was in my 18th year. My whole life ahead of me.

Supporting herself with one hand, Rose used the other to reach back and draw the cotton fabric down over the skin of her buttocks. She brought her thighs together to facilitate this. Soon I could see the dark division of her crack, held tightly together as the panties continued to be pulled down. My heartbeat was pounding in my chest and ears. Rose continued watching me, though it must have been uncomfortable having to keep her neck like that.

Once she could no longer push the panties down, owing to the awkwardness of her position, she reached under with that same hand and began pulling them off from below. Now, I had jerked off to many poses like this from behind, imagining that the model was spread open so I could see it all, but of course no such thing was ever shown in those days. Imagine how I felt, as the panties were finally slipping down to her lower thighs and Rose's legs were opening just for me. Plus, she was looking right at me as she did it.

I stayed my hand just long enough to get a good look at the pucker of her anus, nestled within her luxurious, deep crack, and then the pretty pink lips and opening of her vagina below it. Rose arched her back as best she could, as I furiously renewed the stroking of my prick, her movements causing the whole of her private areas now to part to my eyes. I saw her pussy open like an orchid blossom, I swear, and her asshole muscles working to reveal a quick view of its dark tunnel. And then I was coming. Uncontrollably.

I sprayed thick white cum in the air, some of it landing as far up as Rose's shoulder blades and hollow of her back, some of it all over my own thigh and knee, but most of it arcing across the whole of her magnificent ass. Rose made an "Oh" sound a couple of times, I remember, but otherwise just held her pose.

I, on the other hand, am sure I made inhuman noises of joy as all the tension in my body emptied onto her. Ropes of cum clung to the cheeks of her ass, spurts of it sprayed directly onto her asshole and drooled down onto her exposed cunt, still more streamed onto her upper thighs, with the last of it hitting the carpet beneath my spurting cock. It seemed to go on forever, and don't we all wish it could.

After it subsided, I felt a strong, nearly overpowering urge to sleep. That was new to me, probably because it was the first time an orgasm had literally wrung me out like a rag. Usually I'd feel energized after a good climax.

The next few minutes seem a blur, as Rose helped us both clean up. First she got me to my feet and dragged us to the bathroom, where she seated me on the toilet and wet a small towel in the sink, under warm water. This she gave to me and, without a word, stood facing the sink, presenting her backside to me once more. This woke me up.

I took my time gently removing every trace of sperm from her thighs, vagina and rear hole, as well as her back and ass cheeks. It was great for me to be able to study her like this, a real anatomy lesson, and Rose squirmed a bit more than I would have expected from simply being washed. As well, there was a definite funk in the air that was apart from the smell of my own jism, and it dawned on me this was my first scent of female arousal. A new world was opening up, as they say.

It was when she had rinsed out the cloth and turned to kneel before me that Rose spoke again. "I want you to remember not to tell anyone. Also, you can depend on me to be available whenever Harland isn't around if you feel the need to jerk off. We must get that out of your system. No magazines, remember." She said all this as she gently cleaned my cock, balls and thighs of any remnants of my orgasm. My equipment was very limp, but I still appreciated the feeling of having her face so close to my body there, and the gentle touch as she cleaned me. It was very comforting and sexual.

I couldn't believe my ears, though. What was the catch? Was this really happening? And by the way, who would believe me if I did decide to tell? As Rose finished cleaning me off I simply said "Thank you, thank you" for lack of anything else coherent to express my feelings.




My Unusual First Time Ch. 01



I marveled again at her terrific body as she stood up to rinse the cloth yet again. Her breasts seemed to beg for attention, the nipples looked so perpetually aroused. Her neck was a little flushed, I noticed. Then I admired the swell of her backside again, the smooth length of her legs, the abundant but soft hair above her cunt. I just looked and looked.

Rose was taking a long time rinsing, it dawned upon me. I looked up and saw a sort of stricken expression on her face. Our eyes met.

"Look, I didn't expect this to happen, but I can't wait until you leave. I need you to help me out right now. Okay?"

"Uh, sure. What is it?" The flush was darker at her collarbone area now, and her breath was audible.

"Just sit there and I'll be quick" she answered in a distracted manner. And so I did, just sitting there, looking up at her as her eyes seemed to glaze over a bit. Suddenly, Rose straddled my right leg and plopped down on the area of my thigh just above my knee. At the same time she brought her breasts right up to my face. "Hold me. Tight."

She didn't have to ask me twice. I pulled her frame to me and held on tight. Her nipples didn't just feel good pressed into my face; they tasted good between my lips and on my tongue. Her cunt didn't just drip hot moisture onto my skin; it made a slick squishing sound as she deliberately pushed herself back and forth on my thigh muscle, faster and faster. My pride went up a notch or two as I smelled her strong arousal in that bathroom and then felt her thighs clamp my leg as Rose flooded my naked skin with her orgasm, my right ear full of her little sounds. I swear her cunt lips were clinging to my leg.

Again and again she reached peaks of pleasure by riding my leg that afternoon. I knew about the capacity for multiple orgasms in women, but Rose definitely takes the record in my life experience. I took advantage of the wracking orgasms she was having by running my hand down to her ass and feeling freely of it, including inside her crack, where the flesh was very warm to my touch. This seemed to help her reach another peak or so, so I experimented by fingering the area of her rear hole. She seemed to like it. 

At long last her writhing slowed and then stopped, and it was Rose's turn to collapse. I hugged her for a while and then felt a funny thing: warm tears on my shoulder. In alarm I pulled her from my neck and looked into her reddened eyes.

"It happens to me when it's a good cum" she explained. "Just some sort of switch inside turns on the tears. I needed to cum, so thank you, Danny, for helping me. I hope you don't think it was weird, what I did." 

"It was cool" I stupidly said, which made us both laugh as Rose clambered off me. I held her in place long enough so I could get my fingers down there between her legs and gently feel that moisture there. She was slick, almost oily. I found that to be a tremendous turn-on, although my equipment was far from functional at the moment. The animal smell of her on my fingers was another delight. 

The excuse I gave my parents as I ate a re-warmed dinner in the kitchen was a flat tire on my bike. They probably didn't believe it, but I suddenly could have cared less. Though far from the confident young man I would someday become, I was one step closer, and looking forward to the next time at Rose's house.

Part 2 is in the works.



My Unusual First Time Ch. 02



Readers should read part 1 first, as this chapter will not work as well without it.

I saw Ed the very next day at church. We were both with our families so we couldn't talk much. I didn't like to do it, but I had no choice but to divert attention from myself so Ed wouldn't be suspicious of what happened with Rose after he'd scurried out of his brother's place.

"Where did you take off to?" I said in a low voice when we met in the church men's room, making the problem about him instead of me. "Left me holding the bag, didn't you?"

He wore a pained expression. "I'm sorry, Dan. She's living with my brother, okay? I was about as embarrassed as I could get."

We didn't say anything for a few moments, just finished up our business at the urinals and zipped up. This I did with care: my dick was practically raw from masturbating again, once last night and once in the bathroom early that morning, reliving what went on with Rose on Saturday afternoon. Truth is, I was delirious from the headiness of the whole thing, my mind full of images of her body and mostly of the way she had talked to me. I could have done myself again right there in the church restroom, raw and sore or not.

"Did she say anything after I left?" Ed was at the door, looking out through the frosted green glass of the upper part in case anyone should be coming. We'd already checked the stalls for occupants when we came in, like co-conspirators.

"Just that we shouldn't be careless leaving stuff out like that, and that maybe I should leave to be sure I wasn't late for supper" I lied. I held my breath to see if Ed would call my bluff. Maybe he'd waited down the street on his bike for me, maybe he knew how long I tarried at his brother's house. 

I felt like a shit for lying to my friend, but at the same time was relieved to see him accept my story. Nothing good could come of him knowing about yesterday. I promised to myself it was the last lie I'd tell him, but of course that was not to be. Sorry, Ed.

All the rest of that morning and early afternoon after church I stayed at home and worked around the house like a busy beave. Dad looked at me funny as I attended to the lawn (even trimming the borders, a task I've always loathed) and clipped back the bushes by the front side of the house. Yes, he looked at me funny, but then again he didn't raise a hand to protest. How could he know that I was trying to keep my mind off of Rose and the way she had casually mentioned that Harland was "back on Tuesday."

This was still Sunday. Two days more until Harland returned from that construction site. Despite how much use my poor privates had been put to in the last 24 hours, I still had half a hard-on in my jeans, persistently reminding me of what I could be doing instead of setting up the lawn sprinklers at just the right points so that they covered the whole front yard, simultaneously. 

In the shower, washing off the sweat and dirt from my efforts, I'll admit I did stroke my cock for a little while. It was a habit I'd indulged in since puberty, so it was no big deal. But I found myself drifting away to that house and the possibilities and questions there. Did she think I was too skinny? I looked down at my hip bones protruding ever-so-slightly, then further down to what seemed to me like knobby knees and long, thin feet. I suppose being skinny does make your dick look bigger, I joked to myself, as I idly palmed it. As far as the knees went, Rose hadn't minded using my leg to get herself off in that bathroom, so why should I think that she found me unattractive?

Bigger questions I tried to push away. Ones like: how can Rose keep her life with Harland separate from what she did for me yesterday? Or: can't a woman get pregnant even if the sperm doesn't get up inside, but only on the outside? I remember reading stuff about that. And, finally: what can you possibly say in defense if people find out?

You'd think that all this turmoil would have kept me away from that house forever. But you'd be wrong. A stiff dick has no conscience. 

As I pedaled up her street I told myself that I was just going for a Sunday ride, just scouting out lawns that Ed and I might mow for some spare money. Not that I seriously figured I'd be doing yard work much longer in my life. I was getting too old for that shit. It was a fair weather time late in the month of May, so people were out walking. That's something you don't see much anymore – everyone's out shopping, I suppose, so they drive. I saw some folks I knew and felt guilty about where I was going, but certainly they couldn't have known. Besides, I had nothing to feel bad about, right?

Harland's house is set back from the road. I paused at the base of the driveway and thought about a cover story, in case his truck was around the back (Looking for Ed, have you seen him today?). I peered around at the neighboring houses, checking for snoops, and then rolled my bike up the driveway, satisfied that my approach wasn't causing any ado.

Rose looked sweet and soft when she answered my knock at her back door, thankfully not annoyed that I'd popped in. I wanted to embrace her as she opened it, but there was an awkwardness lingering from what had happened between us yesterday, a feeling that kept me from knowing quite what to do. 

She was in a navy blue skirt, flouncy like a tennis skirt but not so short, and a white blouse with a scoop neck; it had a couple of translucent, aqua-colored buttons down the front. Her feet were bare, no stockings either. Her body looked good to me.

"I hope it's okay I came back so soon. You said that Har--"

"Yes, he'll return Tuesday" she interrupted me, like she'd rather I not say his name. "It's fine you came back. I was just about to have a sandwich. Did you eat?"

And so it was that I stood in her kitchen and helped with the turkey, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. She told me she'd cook a pound of bacon at a time and drain it, then keep it in saran wrap in the fridge so she could enjoy it on this, her favorite style of sandwich. Instead of mayonnaise she preferred Miracle Whip, just like my mother. 

All the while she remarked on this I was eyeing her cleavage, admiring the fall of her hair, noticing the profile of her chin, checking the little stud earrings in her small ears, and yearning to run my hand up her exposed legs. 

It dawned on me, even as I was inventorying her charms, that maybe one lesson I was learning from Rose was to appreciate everything about a woman, including her little ways of doing things (like making these sandwiches). Her speaking style, her sense of humor, how she might feel about simple pleasures in life, those are things that define a person. Whether I'd have figured this out so soon without the tantalizing lure of sexual activity is an unanswerable question.

As she finished the sandwiches and asked me if I'd prefer milk or soda, she switched subjects without any warning. "I don't want you to kiss me, Danny. I hope that's all right. I need to save that for Harland." 

This she was saying while putting out State Line potato chips to go with the sandwiches, and pulling up a couple of tall chairs so we could eat right there at the kitchen counter.

"Okay, Rose. I understand." Of course I didn't, but if that was the way it was, okay. It's not like this was any kind of normal thing we were doing here, with pre-set rules. I dug into the sandwich.

After a few moments of us making eating noises, she asked me "Has a girl ever let you kiss her?"

"Once" I remembered. It came back to me clearly, even though I'd forgotten the whole thing. "We were both fifteen. It was in the back of the school bus. Linda Chesney. She was moving the next week, out of state. She told me she always liked me and then put her mouth on mine. It was a surprise."

"Was it a long deep kiss?"

"Yeah. Her breath was warm and her tongue went in my mouth. Then she got out at her stop and I never saw her again. The guys bugged me for a month about it."

Rose smiled. "So this girl kisses you and that's it? You didn't try to see her afterward? It sounds like you liked it."

"I did like it, that's true" I admitted, washing down a mouthful with the milk. "But she moved away. She wasn't back in school the next day."

Rose shook her head a little and looked out the window. Her own sandwich was half eaten on her plate. "Danny, Danny. What's to be done with you? Why didn't you get on your bike and ride over to her house? You knew when she was moving. You had time before then." As usual, Rose's voice was light even though here words were penetrating. She surely did have my number.

"I guess I was scared. Her kiss was so strong. I didn't know what it meant, then."

"Good. Another honest answer. You're making progress. Pretty soon you won't dance around questions at all. A woman wants a man who's straight and direct. Even if he says things she doesn't want to hear."

We washed the dishes side by side at the sink. I had a good look down the front of her blouse, which I'm sure now she realized I was doing. I could see the satiny cups of her bra. It looked like a Playtex. 

As I wiped the plates she asked what she could do for me today, in a tone like a waitress at the diner.

"Geez, Rose, you make me crazy when you say something like that. It makes me want to do everything with you. You've got me nuts." It was the truth. "I mean, when you told me I could come over and, you know...."

"Jerk off?" she said purposely, knowing full well what her saying things shocking like that would do to me. "Is that what you want?"

"Of course. And anything you'll let me do." I looked at her and then turned to put the plates in the cabinet. When I turned back I could see that she'd been thinking.

She reached into the cabinet below the sink and came out with a medium-sized glass bottle that had an Italian name on it. It could have been Greek, I don't recall. "Let's stick to the basics right now, Danny" she said, undoing the top of the bottle. Then she reached around me to draw me into a position facing the sink, right up close to the counter, and before I could catch on her hands were undoing my belt and drawing down the zipper of my pants.

I don't have to tell you how good that felt, having Rose's hands on me. My breath was hot in my chest as she calmly slipped my pants down to my thighs, revealing my briefs and the growing bulge inside. "That looks needy" she commented. "Why don't you take it out?"

I groaned and fumbled at myself as Rose poured a quarter-sized puddle of yellowish-green liquid from the bottle into her palm. Her eyes were on my hands as I drew my penis out of my underwear. "Olive oil is just the trick. Let me put it on for you." 

I almost cried out in pleasure like a baby as I felt Rose's hand on my erection for the first time. Oh, it's true she had tenderly cleaned me off the day before with that warm cloth, but it had been more of a comforting, post-orgasm feeling. Her hand applying soothing oil up and down my rod now was a full-blown sensation! She made a small sound of approval as I instinctively started a thrusting motion through the slick tunnel of her fingers. I looked at her looking at my dick and felt wonder, pride, lust, and a funny sort of peace, all at the same time.

And then she pulled her hand away and started to wipe it off on a dish towel. I grunted with extreme dissatisfaction until I saw Rose methodically unbuttoning her blouse and skirt, letting them fall to the floor as she gracefully swept the clothes off herself. With a quick push she was sitting on the counter to the right of the sink, facing me, where I could get a good look at her. White panties and a bra that opened at the front. 

Rose pointedly eyed my dick and then looked into my eyes as I stood there at the sink. "Well, go on" she urged. 

Which I did, especially when she artlessly unhooked her bra and matter-of-factly allowed her breasts to hang free. They bobbed slightly as she tossed the garment aside on the counter. I marveled again at how perfectly lovely she looked. The flesh-on-lubricated-flesh sound of me masturbating soon filled the room as I ogled those twin swells and their exquisitely-hued nipples. Rose had no issue with caressing them for me, either, as if she sensed what I might want to see at any moment. Even the women in the magazines didn't do more than cup them, not then, whereas her thumbs and forefingers squeezed the tips lewdly before me. The nipples crinkled into taut arousal.

"Did you play with yourself last night?" 

I nodded. 

"This morning?" 

Again I nodded. 

"I thought you would. Boys simply can't help it, and there's little to stop them anyway." 

She studied my hard penis as I stroked it. I stared at the exposed flesh of her chest, recalling how nice it had been yesterday to have her nipples between my lips.

"Let me see your balls." There she was with that talk again, making me crazy. Of course I pushed the vent of my briefs open more and fished my testicles out into the cool air so she could observe my sack. It was rather erotic, displaying myself like that. "Mmmm-hmmm" she muttered, evidently pleased with my equipment. Her fingers continued squeezing her tits. I could hear my own breathing.

"Can I see, uh, can you take off your panties?" I requested, feeling myself working toward climax. It's not like I had any idea of pacing, back then. If it was coming, it was coming. And, even after yesterday I still couldn't believe how unreal and erotic this whole situation was.

"So you can see my cunt, Danny?"

"Oh, Rose, I can't stand it, I--"

"Or do you prefer pussy? Which one is it? Pussy or cunt?" Damn her. 

She surprised me by sliding off the counter in just those white cotton panties, and then suddenly she was right next to me and I could look down and see those wonderful breasts, inches away, and up to her pretty face with her slightly open mouth and unnerving eyes studying my straining cock. She reached out impulsively to cup my balls in her palm for just a moment, making me gasp, and then her hand was once again pulled away.

This time when she got back up on the counter Rose brought her right leg up and actually hooked her foot around the sink faucet. This brought her panty-covered pubic mound into prominence. Realizing she was about to reveal her cunt to me, my cock seemed to leap in my fist, ready to go off at any moment. Without hesitation her fingers peeled the vee of her panties to one side.

I stared openly at the soft pink mouth of her sex, nestled within its protection of curly hair. Those slick vertical lips appeared to be moist just inside, and probably were. I could clearly see the whole shape of the opening to her vagina.

The shafts of light coming through the kitchen window striped her naked body. She made no sound as she inspected my progress there at the sink. There was a look of mild anticipation on her face as I beat off in front of her. The hand that wasn't holding her panties aside left her breasts and traveled downward to idly fluff the hair through which her cunt lips peeked.

My ejaculations started before I was even aware I was coming. I sprayed as far up as the edge of the kitchen window curtains, as I remember, my mind distracted for just a millisecond with the thought that Rose would have to clean them. I may have hit her foot, too, I don't know. And then the pleasure rushed through me and I was gasping and thrusting, my cream spilling over and over into the sink. I recall that Rose studied my face intently as I jerked my heated flesh like my very life was flowing out of me. And then suddenly she was by my side, again.

"Good, good" she soothed as her left arm went around my waist and her right hand dipped down to my briefs to gently cup my balls again. I groaned at this warm touch and the feel of her left breast pressing into the right side of my back, just under my arm. I instinctively released my penis from the grip of my right hand, hoping she would take over for the last few moments of my release.

Which she did, without hesitation, milking the final drops out with firm strokes that made me groan mightily. The fluid was squeezed out of me like toothpaste by her practiced hand. In those days it was thick and white and pearlescent; I could see some of it on her index finger when she finally let go. 

As I struggled to recover, my head all light and goofy, Rose ran the warm water in the sink and produced a clean cloth, from somewhere, with which to clean my dwindling organ. I could see strands of my semen swirling down the drain. Beside me, her naked body looked like something in a dream. Her nipples looked stiff and needy. I remember wanting to hold her. 

"If you want to shower, go ahead" she invited, patting my behind lightly.

"Do I need to?" I turned to face her, my dick still hanging from my underwear, and raised my hands to touch her breasts. She didn't flinch, just looked at me patiently. It wasn't that I was aroused all over again, just that I wanted to touch. Part of me figured this would all end without notice and I might wait for years for another opportunity. I really couldn't help myself.

Her nipples were stiff, and if possible they may have gotten even harder as I stood there exploring her bosom. Rose simply let me do it, her hands at her sides, looking down at my fingers as I gently pinched her breast tips and then cupped that perfectly-weighted pair of globes in my palms. My mouth watered on its own.

She also didn't move, aside from parting her thighs, when I finally got around to reaching down to her puffy cunt lips. They were as wet as I'd hoped, moisture immediately meeting my fingertips as I touched a woman's vagina for the second time in twenty-four hours. Her slit was warm and alive as I ran a fingertip inside, amazed at my own audacity. I managed also to find the nub of her clit, but only dared to guess so at the time.

As I say, Rose did nothing but watch me run my hands over and into her. It was like she wanted to be my living display, my teaching aid. It was weird, but not so strange that my balls weren't now aching in protest, deep inside, as the blood again started to enter my shaft. Her thighs were conveniently apart, perfect for my adventurous fingers. For the second time I caught that lovely funk that rises from a woman's genitals when her pussy lubricates; it drifted up between us, reaching my nostrils with a powerful, remarkably arousing force. 

I caressed those silken wet lips and tentatively probed the entry within, knowing that the wonderful aroma was being generated by the juices I'd discovered. Rose and I locked eyes. Hers were serenely observing mine, and god only knows what she must have seen in return.

"I guess I've underestimated your needs, Danny. Honestly, you're either every woman's dream or curse." Her voice came to me like a dream, from afar. Without having felt it happening, I suddenly realized Rose's hand had been grasping my newly-revived penis, just holding it like an old friend. 

Thinking she was protesting my behavior, I told her "I can wait. Sorry I'm such a mess."

"Oh, no no. Didn't mean that. I told you you can do what you want, after all. It's not like you came over for piano lessons, is it." She smiled lightly and we both laughed a little. "I guess it should be a compliment to me that you're getting stiff all over again so quick."

"Rose, you're just so –"

"Shush. I'm sure I'm the best-ever to you, Danny. But all women have the same things, you know." Her hand hadn't left my cock. She was caressing the head gently, and I could feel leftover wetness from my glans being spread by her fingers. It made me think of her wetness, on my own fingertips. 

"I think yours are nicer" I said by way of reply. 

"I know what" Rose announced with a bright look. "Why don't you get a better look. Of course, I should have thought of that, you haven't really seen anything close-up. Come over to the living room." She started off in a flash, with me right behind her watching her cheeks wiggle most prettily. But before we reached the living room she told me to wait a second, disappeared into the hallway to the bedroom, then quickly returned with a generous bath towel. I remember it was an ugly shade of green.




My Unusual First Time Ch. 02



Rose arrayed the towel over the seat of a low chair with fabric-enclosed arms, before promptly (and most lewdly) plopping herself down in it and hooking her legs over the arms. I stood there and stared as she scooted her hips forward to present her cunt to me, as fully-opened as any man can expect to see it, save a gynecologist.

At least I didn't have to be told to get down on the carpet and feast my eyes. It was like in only one day everything I'd believed about female sexual generosity had proved-out wrong. I was on my knees and elbows in an instant; in case this was still a dream I wouldn't want to wake up before an intimate tour of pussy.

Rose said nothing as I studied the pink flesh of her outer lips and the darker pink of the second set within. I remember she had longer, straighter hairs running to either side of her opening than the curly ones that grew above it, delicate hair that covered bits of her inner thighs and down to her rear crack. There was a prominent hood over her clit and I could just see the glistening pink nub emerging, ever-so-slightly, from under it. 

There was unmistakable moisture lubricating those inner cunt lips, and with it that earthy aroma that has always added an extra inch to my erection (well, it feels that way).

With her legs splayed and her buttocks just balanced on the edge of that chair, all of Rose's nether region was wholly visible to me from my vantage point. I know that a woman's private parts have often been described as beautiful by writers, but having my face an inch or so from both her openings was not much in the way of studying a piece of Art. Instead I felt myself overcome by the actual power of female sensuality, the raw sexuality that every girl and woman possesses in this simple way. A woman can have a disagreeable personality, a homely countenance, or even an obnoxious voice, but still she possesses this innate, primal power, the strength of her sex. To me, that's beyond Art.

Feeling like I was at a new church with strange rituals being conducted, I caught my breath as Rose unceremoniously started to play with herself right there before my eyes. A practiced fingertip began rolling the small ball of her clitoris as another delved just inside her hole, and her hips started a lazy grinding motion. "Stay right there" she breathed, so I did. I watched as her rear hole contracted and became very crinkly. I watched as fluid seeped from inside her and made her pubic hair shine. I saw her clit emerge from under its hood as now two of Rose's fingertips virtually strummed it. I reached down between my own legs and awkwardly masturbated, rubbing the tip of my cock along the carpet for added sensation. I felt her free hand gently reach to touch my hair. I instinctively drew my face as close as possible, hearing her making small urgent sounds deep in her throat.

This went on for some time. I loved breathing her in and seeing her hips move faster and faster. Her cunt opened up more as her muscles tightened in her thighs. She exuded warmth. Her fingers were soon wound in my hair as I rested my chin in my palm, supported by my elbow, and watched this remarkable event. I could barely see her breasts heaving above my line of sight. I wondered if it would be okay for me to kiss her there, between the legs.

And then she was there, and she couldn't help it: her hand in my hair urgently pulled me close to her, and my mouth, nose and chin were shortly being used to rub out her orgasm; I was alive with the smell and taste and heat of her, and then both her hands were on the back of my head and her crotch was simply grinding over my face. Rose's thighs clamped over my ears but I know she was crying out with pleasure, I could feel her joy as she bucked against me and spread her lush pussy over my willing face.

In the sheer urgency of the moment I stole as many kisses and licks to her cunt as I could manage before her peak subsided. The salty musk of her warm juices was most welcome to my taste, not at all objectionable, as I'd heard from inexperienced friends. As well, the continuing revelation of the last day or so, that women can be as highly aroused as I seemed to be twenty times a day, came as quite a relief. I no longer felt like I should be ashamed of my ardor. Rose's demonstrations had shown me that.

After awhile she released me and seemed to melt into the chair, her hands idly resting on her spread thighs as she just lay there in relief. I got up on my knees and looked up between the swells of her breasts to observe an expression on her face that seemed as though she might be quite pleased with herself. 

Naturally my erection was waving before me so I began stroking it, buoyed by the sight of her wide-open charms and "go ahead, anything you want" attitude. I came very close to losing my true virginity at that moment; it would have been no effort at all to slide my heated prick into her open, wet cunt. But I managed to restrain the urge. 

I did, however, scoot up to rest my aching ball sac on her lower belly, just above her sex. Like I say, it was a low chair and I was tall for my age of eighteen, so I was still firmly on my knees as I jacked off with my cock arching over her and aiming straight for her breasts. I could taste her orgasm on my tongue and lips. 

To my delight, Rose mustered whatever strength she could find and wrapped her knees around my hips, holding me close and pulling me forward. She smiled and watched me masturbate through heavily-lidded eyes.

I studied her face and saw how relaxed and peaceful she appeared. It was funny, but for the first time since I'd discovered ejaculation at a tender age I didn't feel as much of that crazy urgency, right then, that always accompanied it. Looking at her satisfied, relaxed post-orgasmic expression gave me time to think about what I was doing, and how nice it was. I was being held gently by a woman as I stood and stroked my cock over her breasts and belly, already visualizing what her flesh would look like spattered with my cum. And she was fine with that.

My free hand was caressing her tits by the time I ejaculated powerfully all over her chest and upper stomach. There wasn't as much as usual, owing to the many times I had climaxed recently, but it felt marvelous and looked simply great to see my thick jism draped over her nipples. I groaned like a starving man suddenly gorging himself on steak. 

Rose smiled in approval and didn't mind that I used my cock to mush my warm white seed into her flesh. I spent a good time doing it, too, milking all the pleasure out of myself.

Before I left that afternoon we took a shower together, certainly a first I'll never forget. I felt like such an adult. I had a fine time exploring her and soaping everything up, and she didn't mind me copping all the feels I could manage. She returned my touch with plenty of caresses of her own, but of course no kissing. 

I especially liked that Rose let me explore her ass, bending slightly so I could slip a soapy index finger in and look from close-up as the shower spray came down her back. That was so forbidden-feeling that my poor penis became thick and hard once more, an event that made her grin and shake her head as we got out of the tub and dried each other off.

"Doesn't that thing ever go down?" Rose asked mockingly as she toweled her hair.

"Sorry."

"I mean, it must be hard to piss with it like that, for instance. Speaking of which, I need to go, so perhaps you should step out for a moment."

Now, I don't know what made me suddenly want to see her pee, but I did. Looking back I think it was just the wanting to be intimate, to share something private. Plus, piss was another word I'd never heard a woman use, so of course her talking dirty got me where I live. Most females say pee.

When she'd got so far as to actually sit on the toilet and I still hadn't moved to leave the bathroom, Rose gave me an exasperated look and just went ahead and got comfortable on the can, evidently in more need to empty her bladder than to spend the effort to order me out of the room.

Emboldened, I moved to stand in front of her with my cock very hard and in my hand. She looked up at me quizzically, then shrugged and muttered "Go ahead", and leaned back against the toilet tank as we both awaited the onset of her release. She moved her legs outside mine so I could look directly down between them.

But she couldn't go, not at first. I stood there stroking my raw penis, my eyes roving over her body and looking into her eyes. It was really hot that she was letting me do this, and I knew it would not be long until I came yet again. In fact, she didn't even have to pee and I would reach climax easily, just from seeing her like this. But at the same time I felt bad that she might be too weirded-out to be able to go.

Finally she did, and it was a great loud rush of spray that I could see easily from standing there in front of her. It lasted about twenty or thirty seconds, but the novelty for me quickly wore off and instead it dawned on me that I was masturbating right over Rose, with my prick not far from her pretty face. That was far sexier, and I didn't know what I should make of it.

I know I sure didn't want to stop, and Rose didn't seem concerned about it as she unspooled a little toilet paper and wiped her pussy. She was looking right up at me with the head of my dick less that a foot from her. Even after she finished wiping and flushed the toilet she made no move to get up.

"Looks good from that angle" she observed, reaching up to cup my balls. I liked that feeling. This time she didn't just hold them in the palm of her hand, though. She started to knead them a bit with her fingertips. 

"My second boyfriend used to do this."

"What?" I managed to ask.

"I'll show you. You just keep on." Her eyes met mine, and they were friendly and shining.

With that Rose leaned forward and opened her mouth rather wide. Her move brought the head of my cock right into line with her parted lips.

Now, this hit me below the belt. When I say it never occurred to me in those days that a woman would do such a thing, I'm not lying. This was an era when a blowjob was discussed in hushed, leering tones, the kind of sounds you hear when guys speak of things most of them have never experienced. I'd thought about it, naturally, but somehow never gotten to the point of wondering what happens when the man comes. 

And here was something beyond that. Here was this wonderful, accommodating woman with her mouth invitingly open beneath my straining, red penis. She had her eyes open, too, and her tongue-tip curled like a spiral wave to accept my orgasm. And damn if she didn't look like the sexiest thing imaginable. 

As I beat off Rose opened her mouth wider and got even closer. I could feel her breath on my ultra-sensitive glans. 

"Oh, God Rose...."

"It's okay Danny. Enjoy it" she replied quickly, and then promptly opened her mouth again. I could see right down to her throat. God, I was about to ejaculate into a woman's mouth. It was so fucking dirty. So dirty I didn't want the anticipation to end, just wanted to go on masturbating and fantasizing about it for eternity.

"Uh, uhh...." I uttered, my heart jack-hammering and my breath ragged. My dick was so close to her I could feel the tip barely grazing the corners of her lips. In my mind's eye I could see my cum oozing over her teeth like dirty toothpaste. The contractions deep inside my pubic area began slowly but inexorably, and it was like I could feel my balls pull up tight to my groin.

I fought to keep my eyes open as the rush began, and was rewarded with the sight of my first volley of cum coating Rose's tongue. My dick spat right into her mouth but she didn't take her eyes off my face for a moment. This was so vulgar and lewd and simply wonderful. I spurted some on her upper lip next but then the next few spasms shot ropes of cum again into her mouth. The sticky whiteness was such a nice contrast with the pink.

I groaned with everything I had as the last of my sperm ejaculated, drooled and dripped into and onto her open mouth. Rose simply kept her mouth open to accept the cream that emptied from my balls and out of my purplish cock head until she sensed that I had spent it all, capping my soul-wrenching experience by closing just her lips over the super-heated glans of my penis and drawing out the very last of my juice. I could barely stand.

After awhile Rose let my dick slip free of her lips and then blew my mind by opening her mouth to show me all the semen. She had kept it all in her mouth until I'd finished! The gluey whiteness pooled deeply on her tongue. It looked positively obscene and almost shocking, but not so shocking as when she gulped it all down with one big swallow. I guess I had expected her to spit it out, or maybe I just don't know what I thought. I can only tell you I still occasionally masturbate whenever that image comes to mind.

It would be later that I would learn more about Rose's remarkable talents and experiences of her past, but that will need to wait for now as I'm feeling nearly as spent today as I did back then! If anyone would like a part three, please leave commentary. Thanks.



My Unusual First Time Ch. 03



I felt the orgasm urge fill me, more emotionally than sexually. This was truly a joining of feelings, I believed. I suddenly recalled being saved at a Pentecostal ritual back when I was eight years of age, and being disappointed at the time that I didn't seem to be moved by the same Spirit that some of the other boys looked to be acting out. That disappointment lasted in me for years, but here and now it was reaching its long-delayed fulfillment. 

Still and all, I staved off the physical aspect of this orgasmic urge with all my might as I began to fully thrust in and out of Rose's silky, velvety, and oh-so-moist channel. 

For her part, Rose began a relaxed, purring sort of sound in time to our thrusting. Cleared of her initial orgasm, her gentle eyes locked on mine as we continued to tongue each other and merge our tender parts in unison below. Looking back and knowing that at that moment I felt a pure love for her, I've no idea why I simply didn't explode within her cunt and die of utter, fantastic pleasure on the spot.

My endurance surprised me, and perhaps her as well. As I rode Rose and sucked at her tongue I felt short, continuous spasms from her that led me to suspect she was having small orgasms. Part of the telltale was the digging-in of her heels to my ass and the continuing wider opening of her legs. It was like she wanted to swallow me with her liquid cunt, willing my cock into the suppleness of her pussy walls until my entire lower body would be engulfed within her. 

Whether it was a minute or five, I couldn't tell you, but when I started ejaculating into her sweet body it was unlike any climax I'd ever reached. There seemed to be no leading-up to the moment, for one thing. Just a continuous electric feeling of pleasure that arrived without warning. In that sense it wasn't a climax at all but instead felt like I had been coming in her ever since my dick passed her threshold, only now it had become more intense. The other thing that was new was feeling my balls actually twitch as my cum shot into her, in fact kind of throb against her mushy outer lips.

And, lastly, it was unlike any other because Rose was feeling me jerk inside her. I could tell because she actually used her hands to push my face away from our passionate kissing activity, holding me away from her to study my eyes. The expression on her face looked urgent and needful. My vision was slightly obscured due to the colored points of light that danced in the air in front of me as I poured my sperm into her cunt, but I remember she looked mysteriously vulnerable.

When I had no more and my cock started to soften I finally stopped moving inside her delicious depths and allowed myself to collapse against her. We lay like that for awhile, me with my face in the hollow of her neck, feeling her inner walls recede from my senses as my prick grew smaller, aware of her breath on my shoulder and her hand on my back. The strong feeling of well-being that overcame me always after orgasm managed to hold off any other thoughts, but soon enough I had to deal with my mind's many questions surrounding the fact that Rose and I had just allowed us to fuck without using protection. 

One reason I couldn't forestall thinking about it was the moment of my withdrawal from her comforting vagina, which was accompanied by a copious amount of rapidly cooling fluids. This being a new experience for me, I had to fight an urge to jump up and clean us both up, as I would certainly have if I'd "got any on me" when flying solo. Instead I rose up a bit so I could look down our bodies and see the glistening, matted pubic hair on both of us. Then I raised my eyes to look into hers.

She must have seen the questions in mine, for she said, "My eggs won't cling to my uterus walls. They just fall off after a few days. I can't get pregnant." This she said very flatly, like trying to keep herself uninvolved. I suppose I should have felt flattered that Rose expected me to understand about eggs and uterine matters, which I did, so she hadn't predicated her statements with any beginners' information. It's not like they taught boys the inner workings of female plumbing back then in school, I assure you, but I was a reader.

"Does Harland know?" Although I can't to this day figure out why I should give a rat's ass about that subject, that's what I asked her.

"No. I haven't told him." Rose didn't look particularly concerned about what I thought about her answer, either. Me, I was dealing with the immense relief that I wasn't going to be a teenage daddy, but at the same time feeling some sort of weird disappointment, and trying to show neither feeling to her by expression or tone of voice. 

Before I could speak again Rose sat slowly up and quietly suggested we take a shower, which took my mind off things for a moment or two. We dragged the bedding with us and left it on the hall floor. In the bathroom I hugged her close to me while we ran the water until it got hot.

Our shower this time was gentler and more concerned with cleaning than with teasing, but I still enjoyed touching her everywhere and feeling her soap up my cock and balls. We kissed frequently under the spray, and I discovered that mouths can be erogenous zones just like other parts of the body but at the same time convey deeper, subtler feelings. Rose welcomed my rubbing between her legs while we did that, and achieved yet another climax when I slowly caressed her sensitive, still-swollen clit just the right way.

For once my cock was sated and didn't rise to the occasion again that night. We spoke not at all until our bodies had been dried and my clothes put back on. I was at peace despite my sadness. We both knew I wouldn't be seeing Rose again, not like this. She walked me to the back door without putting on a stitch, and stood there and kissed me softly in the doorway, under the light fixture, for all the world to see if they were still up and about, as she allowed my fingers to play all over her body one last time. I couldn't help myself and went ahead and indulged the urge to revisit her most intimate areas, raising my fingertips to my nose to inhale her as we broke the kiss.

"Goodbye, Danny" she said as I turned to walk to my bicycle. I nodded in response and rode slowly away down her driveway, thinking that now she'd be moving toward that washer to pour detergent on the evidence of our time together, the time I'd lost my virginity in every way possible.