Occasionally everyone has that déjà vu experience. Time seems to be in slow motion as you watch events happening and you know exactly what's coming next; that feeling that you've lived this exact moment in time before. Whether it was something similar or something that we can't explain, most of us never know. For me, it was similarity to real life experience. A young co-worker seemed kind of despondent, so I took him to lunch. When I asked him what was up he said "Jim, I think I've got a problem." There it was, that tingling hair on the back of my neck, the feeling that I'd been here, before of Déjà vu.
My young co-worker proceeded to tell me how he had suspected his wife might be having an affair, and now he suspected that his wife might be a lesbian. As he told me his problem, a story unfolded that except for a few of the minor details could have been the story of what happened to my wife and me, and another couple, 20 some years ago.
In our society everyone assumes that sex is an inherent skill – that we should naturally know how. My experience is that this is not the case, that most of us learn from our friends and lovers and then fine tune our abilities over the years. In my case I had a wonderful teacher; in the case of our friends it turned out that neither one of them knew how to give the other pleasure. I suppose I could shorten this and only tell parts of our story, however I'm sure something important would be left out. It's best if I just start at the beginning and tell the whole thing.
I came from a relatively poor family, although I didn't know it at the time. For spending money, we all had to work – there was no such thing as an allowance. I started mowing lawns when I was 8, and by the time I was 16 I had more muscles than the average kid. I had several houses all over town, and rode my bike back and forth so I had lots of freedom. Then the football coach saw me, and recruited me, and before I knew it I didn't have time for anything else. I had to give up the lawn mowing business, which I did – all except for one customer.
There was one house that was one of my original customers. When the For Sale sign went up, they told me they were going to pass my name and telephone number to the new owners and recommend that they keep me. A few weeks later after they moved I got a call from the new owners. Mr. "Jones" asked if I still wanted to take care of their lawns, and I agreed. He asked that I particularly pay attention to sprinklers and make sure they were taken care of as he did a lot of traveling and often didn't have time to check them out himself. I said I would and continued doing their lawns.
I didn't see Mrs. "Jones," Jennie, until the first time I mowed the lawn. It was afternoon, and as usual I was in shorts and no shirt. I did the front and had just started the back when Jennie came out and introduced herself. I thought she was a really pretty lady, mid to early 30's and great figure. She introduced herself, said "You must be James," and asked me how old I was, what grade I was in – all the small talk. She paid me and away I went. I remember thinking she was really good looking, but at the time didn't think anything else of it. From the beginning it was routine that she would come out and say hi whenever I was there. I enjoyed having her come out, and always fantasized about her afterward. When football took over my life – I quit all my customers – all except Jennie "Jones".
I kept the Jones's as my only customer my last two years of high school and first year of Junior College. She always came out to say hello, and often she would come out and putter around, weeding the garden or whatever. I didn't particularly think about it at the time, but gradually her clothing was changing. One time shorts and a tee shirt, tied in the middle so she had a bare midriff. Another time she had on a halter top that confirmed she had some outstanding cleavage. Later it was bathing suit top, another time she was sunbathing in back in a bikini. Gradually as her clothing became more revealing, she also spent more time talking to me, and although I didn't mind, the amount of time I was taking to mow their lawns was going up all the time. Once high school was over, so was my football career. Still, I continued to mow their lawn. For one, it gave me a little spending money, but somehow I could just never quit. It seemed that every time I was just about to tell them I was not going to take care of their yard anymore, there would be Jennie in something just a little bit nicer, just a little bit more revealing, and there went my plans right down the tube. It never dawned on me that maybe she was always coming out when I was there BECAUSE I was there. Later she admitted that she liked looking at me, shirtless, muscular, and glistening with sweat, just as much as she enjoyed my ogling her.
Although I dreamed of Jennie, fantasized about her, I was really an innocent. Although I'd been on the football team I have to admit I was a bit of a nerd. I had good grades, parents that kept close tabs on me, and was actually very shy. Consequently when I graduated from high school, I suppose I was a bit unusual as I'd never had a girlfriend. Not that there hadn't been a few I was interested in, or that were interested in me, it had just never been that girls were my priority and nothing ever developed.
The first time I saw Jennie's tits was a downblouse. It was during a time that I knew her husband was away for a month on business. She was weeding in the garden in back, I was mowing the lawn. I finished up in front and as I came around the corner of the house, there she was on her hands and knees with her halter top hanging down. Without effort I was looking clear between her breasts to her belly button. Although I didn't see nipple, I saw everything but. I positioned the lawnmower so that with every pass I could spend as much time looking down her shirt as possible.
Seeing down her blouse, seeing the unencumbered flesh of her nearly naked breasts was too much. I had to stare. I kept staring, hoping to see a complete breast, to see a nipple peeking out. After several passes of the lawn mower, she sat up, destroying my view of her cleavage. She wiped the sweat off her brow and waved. I waved back at her, and she went back to work. But every time she leaned forward her breasts could be seen freely swaying through the neck opening of her halter. I slowed every time I got in position craving to see all that I could.
Of course the expected physiological response to my body happened - I ended up with a raging hard-on. Being the innocent that I was, I tried to hide it. This was, of course, virtually impossible to hide wearing only cut off Levi's and no shirt. The best defense was to face the other way, however then I couldn't look down here tank top. As I moved to the further corner of the yard, I had less and less opportunity to look down Jennie's shirt. From the amount of weeding that had been done I knew she had been out for some time. It wasn't to much of a surprise when at the corner I turned to look and she had disappeared. I was disappointed, but relieved, and relived every peek in my mind as I finished the yard.
I put all the tools away, finished cleaning up and checked the sprinklers. There was one that wasn't working right, and as typically happens when checking sprinklers I got mildly wet. It was hot so it felt good, but when I went to the door to ask for the pay I was wet, with muddy shoes. When I knocked on the door, at first there was no answer, but then I heard footsteps and she came to the door. She was inside in the dark, I was out in the bright sunshine, so really couldn't see her, but she could see me. She told me to take my shoes off and come on in, she'd get the money. I told her that was OK, I'd just wait outside. She sort of insisted, saying she'd get us both a cold drink.
The drink sounded pretty good, so I took the shoes off, now just wearing shorts, and stepped inside into the kitchen. She wasn't there so I called out, "Hello?"
"Be right there," she hollered back from the other end of the house. A moment later she came in, barefoot, and wearing a bathrobe. "I just took a shower – I was so hot and sticky from the garden. Would you like a coke or Ice Tea?"
"Coke", I answered. She got us both one, and took them to the kitchen table, putting the money by one of the glasses. She set the glasses down next to each other, as the opposite side of the table was against the wall.
"Sit down," she told me as she turned back and got a towel to wipe up the water from the ice on the counter. I sat, and a moment later she came to sit down too. Her robe gapped just a bit as she sat, bending over just slightly so I got a hint of cleavage, and as she straightened up, the hint of cleavage remained. We small talked for a while; she wanted to know if I'd seen any good movies or other such nonsense, gradually extending out the stay. I was not in the least bit upset about staying as every time she moved, the robe came just a bit looser, showed just a bit more cleavage. Finally I ran out of coke and she got up to get us both some more.
By now, her robe was well down between her breasts; it was obvious she had nothing on underneath, at least not up top. Her breasts were a magnificent creamy white, offset by the golden tan lines, and I was seeing more of them unobstructed than I'd ever seen before. I was having a hard time looking at her face, and stupidly thought she must not really be noticing that I was enjoying the view, but then again – all 18 year olds are pretty much brain damaged anyway. The trouble with this is that I once again had a raging hard on. The more we sat and talked, the more she showed. The more she showed, the harder I got. I was in a pickle knowing that I needed to get up to leave and that there was no way once I'd gotten up to hide it.
At last the coke disappeared and she stood up, taking both glasses to the sink. I was hoping she would offer a refill, but she didn't. I quickly stood up, hoping to be able to face the other way so she wouldn't see but she said "Just a moment before you go." I was caught – nothing to do but try and keep facing the door. I wasn't looking at her, but was slowly walking toward the door as she was coming up behind me.
"I was just wondering, if I showed you mine would you show me yours?" I looked back at her, over my shoulder, and her robe was now open to the waist, her beautiful breasts exposed to me for the first time.
I stopped, speechless. My eyes were at first locked on her breasts, but I looked up at her face, a pleasant, self satisfied smile on her face, then back down to her breasts.
I couldn't take my eyes them. Her breasts were white untanned mounds with a darker brown triangle between them where her natural neckline resided. Across the face of them was a lighter tan mark, just barely missing her nipples, where she'd been tanning in her bikini. Her rock hard nipples were surrounded with small deep red areolas set slightly on the upper side so they appeared very perky. She still had the tie around the waist, so all I could see was her topside, but that was enough. I don't remember what I said but I'm sure I stammered something.
"I know you've been admiring them for quite some time and I've really enjoyed it and I've been admiring you for quite some time and I think I'd really enjoy it if I could see you too," she said, She continued talking like this, somewhat shyly, somewhat unsure, somewhat determined to get what she wanted. She walked up to me, turned me to face her, and ran her hand down the front of my shorts over my hard-on. "You don't need to be afraid, just relax and do what comes naturally."
I stood there her beautiful breasts just inches from my face. "They're beautiful."
"I've heard that before," she said and paused, just letting me look. "Would you like to touch them?" I looked at her face, then back at her tits, and reached up to touch boobs for the first time in my life. I felt her nipples in the palm of my hand, and squeezed each one, like a big balloon.
"Not like that – they aren't balloons. Haven't you ever felt titties before?" I shook my head no – and she said "Well maybe we just need to teach you a few things." She took my hand from her tit and led me down the hall to her bedroom. Once there, she stopped turned and began to undo my belt. I didn't stop her, and soon she was undoing my pants. Slipping her thumbs into my underwear, she pulled them over my cock and dropped them to the floor.
As my pants dropped, she looked down and said "First things first, lets get you cleaned up". She turned and again reached for my hand, drug me into the bathroom. She pulled the curtain aside, reached in adjusting the water, and then turned, dropped her robe for the first time and said "Come on – get in". I climbed into the shower and she climbed in behind. I was aroused more than I'd ever been aroused before. I'd never seen a naked woman, I'd never felt a bare tit. But I had masturbated before to dreams of this exact scenario. I knew what to expect and knew I was practically there.
She took the soap, lathered it up in her hands, and began to rub it on my chest. She rubbed it across my nipples which were quite sensitive although she didn't concentrate on them, but continued lower until her soapy hands reached my cock. No sooner than she touched it and I began to spurt, great gobs of cum, clear onto her belly and pubic hair.
My head was ringing, my ears pounding, and all I could think was "Oh no – she doesn't want to see this." But she knew exactly what to do. As soon as I started cumming, she continued to stroke my cock, slowly milking it until I quit spurting.
She was saying something softly like "That's good. Yes. I know you needed this." After I quit cumming, she soaped up her hands again and first washed my cum off her belly than continued to wash me, from head to foot, front and back, kneeling down to reach my legs and feet. After she was done, she said "Ok, now you wash me". And I did. She had me wash her from top to bottom, making sure I touched every inch of her, including her anus and pussy. I did as she told me, then she turned the shower off, we got out and first she dried me than I dried her. Taking me by the hand again, she took me back into her bedroom. Half an hour later I was no longer a virgin.
For the rest of that summer, and every time her husband was away for the next year, I was Jennie's lover. I say lover because that's what we did. She taught me how to pleasure her in specifics, and every other woman in generalities. She taught me that no two women were alike, but yet in many ways they were the same. She sucked my cock for the first time, and taught me how to eat pussy, long and soft, short and hard. She showed me that one time a good hard cock in her mouth could practically get her off, and at times even a tongue on her clit wouldn't and she needed to rub herself to get off. She showed me how a woman masturbated, and had me jerk off for her. She showed me every position she could think of and we did them in ever room of the house. I wasn't in love with Jennie, I was in lust, but we made love. She shared her body with me, but I never shared her bed. Sometimes we made love in her bed, but always during the day. At night – she slept alone. Somehow for her, it was OK to share her body with me, that was just sex. But the bed was hers and her husbands, and although she had sex with me in that bed, I wasn't allowed to sleep there.
Although I'd started at the Junior College, college wasn't for me. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, except to get laid more often. When I was 19, I joined the Marines, and left my younger life behind. Four years later when I came back, Jennie and her husband had moved. I've never seen her again.
While I was growing up in the bedroom of Jennie, my wife was growing up next door to my best friend. And, although most people think that guys screw and tell, I never told another soul, including my best friend, about Jennie. He never did understand why I liked to spend summer afternoons mowing lawns instead of doing things with him, but I never told.
My wife, Debs (actually Debbie but her nickname as a kid was Debs and it still sticks to this day), is six years younger than I am. When I was 18, she was a pre-pubescent skinny little runt with a cute face. Although she was always around with my buds little sister, I never treated her differently or saw her differently than any other kid. When I was 23, and getting out of the Marines, I stopped by my friend's house, in full dress uniform, and there was this gorgeous, voluptuous creature next door in short shorts and a halter top. While I was standing out by the car talking to my buddy, she came over, attracted by the uniform and we began to talk. At first I didn't recognize her at all, but then when my buddy said "You remember her – this is Debs – my little sister's friend?" I suddenly recognized her.
What a difference. From 5' and 82 pounds to 5'5, 125 and absolutely exquisitely proportioned.
Debs was a late bloomer. At 16 she was the last in her class to get her first period, and still looked like a 13 year old. When I saw her at almost 18, she had grown and blossomed overnight until she had one of "THE" bodies to die for as a senior. Not only had she developed late, but she also came from a strange family, so she was a little bit socially inept. Her father had refused to let her date at all to that time. Her dad was a fundamentalist Jesus Freak. Although she didn't quite buy into all the "Don'ts" that come with that, she'd still had no meaningful social interaction.
As she had been the last to develop physically she remembered all those boys who had meanly put a flat book into their shirts and said "Hey Debs remind you of anyone?" or any of the mean things that school kids do to each other. But, when she came down with the body of the century, it didn't take long for her to realize that at last she had the power to lord over them. During high school she'd never dated, she'd had no exploratory sexual sessions, no kissing, no touchy feely – nothing. Then I came along in my Marine dress uniform.
The attraction was mutual, and during the course of the conversation I asked her if she'd like to go out some time. At first she said she couldn't, but then asked me if her Daddy said it was OK – would I like to take her to her Senior Prom? I said sure, and she asked me to come with her. She took me over to her house and into the living room where her father was reading the paper. She interrupted him, and introduced me, told how I used to hang out a lot next door, how I'd gone into the Marines but was just about to get out, and how she'd really like me to take her to her Senior Prom, and wanted to know if that was OK. Her dad looked me up and down, and asked two questions.
"You getting an honorable discharge?"
"Hmmph." He looked me in the eye, so I looked him right back. "Well, at least you'll look at me." He paused, then continued, "You're intentions with my daughter honorable?"
Of course I had no idea what honorable intentions with a girl were, but I immediately said "Yes, sir".
Debs was ecstatic, and we immediately went back outside, where she told me he'd never said yes to anyone dating her before.
I wish it was one of those "and they all lived happily ever after" stories but it doesn't quite work that way. I got out of the Marines, took Debs to her senior prom, and thought she was the stuck up frigid snob queen from hell. I went wondering if I might get lucky, and didn't even get a good night kiss. I didn't even want to take her out again, but saw her every once in a while when I was over to my buddy's house.