tagFirst TimeMy Unusual First Time Ch. 03

My Unusual First Time Ch. 03

bydjeroticon©

You should read chapters 1 and 2 before proceeding, things will make more sense.

Monday back in school, I noticed how differently I was feeling. Part of it was distraction, thinking of what Rose and I had been doing and the fact that Harland would return on Tuesday, but mostly I simply felt out of place.

The other boys at school suddenly seemed like inexperienced rubes. Our conversations between classes and during gym were beneath me. Even Ed appeared to me more like some dumb kid brother than my best friend, surely not my equal.

And the girls! The ones I used to get all hot and bothered over couldn't shine the shoes of my Rose, I knew. Sure, their bodies looked good, especially the ones who wore their uniform skirts higher up the leg than others, but these former goddesses were now so uninteresting. How could I have ever felt intimidated by the idea of asking one out on a date? Me, the boy (man?) who had showered with a fully formed, desirable woman, had felt her body in almost every way a man could, had enjoyed orgasms with her?


Such a boy could care less about going to the drive-in with some shallow young female after that, even if he had access to a car.

It hit me that I might have fallen in love with Rose. But how could that be so? Rose was older, knew so much more than me. She was involved with a real man, one who ran a construction crew of god knows how many workers. Rose was so experienced at sex, she took in stride everything, all the positions, that to me amounted to heart-stopping fantasies, with barely a hint of wonder.

I stood next to her as a lowly student would stand next to Socrates. Certainly I couldn't love someone so far above me, so detached. And, there was no doubt that such a person could never love me.

So, it must be infatuation, I reasoned. I'd read about that, of course -- English Lit was full of prime examples. Also, it was common knowledge that plenty of schoolgirls thought they were in love with their male teachers, so why not a misplaced emotion on my part toward Rose? I pushed such nonsense away.

Ed had the new Playboy in his gym locker, cribbed from his dad's bureau. Normally I'd have killed to get a look at it, but that day I shrugged at his suggestion that we check it out in the locker room during our next free period, when Coach and his assistant had study hall monitoring assignments.

Maybe I was too distracted thinking about ways I could sneak out of the house tonight and visit Rose again, one more time before Tuesday. Maybe I was tired of magazines that didn't show it all. Or, perhaps I suddenly realized that if Ed and I didn't have some Stag or Adam or Men Only to check out, or some fantasy to share about what we'd like to do with girls, then maybe we had no other common interests.

Anyway, we ended up checking out the magazine after all, but it was in the back of the bus on the way home after school. This was no mean feat, by the way, ogling nekkid wimmen pictures on the Eagle Eye bus.

Eagle Eye Warren (I've forgotten his given name) was a veteran, hunched-over driver who had seen it all, and was especially suspicious of any clutch of whispering and grinning boys huddled in the back of his transport. He had a huge rear view mirror, I swear it seemed twice the size of other bus mirrors, and little escaped his probing eyes. It wasn't easy keeping him from pulling over and making a big deal investigation out of everything.

So, Ed and I sat in the middle right, instead of the back this time. It was Ed's idea. Even though there were girls and some boys younger than us right nearby, kids who could see what we were doing, Ed apparently reasoned that Warren would pay little heed to anything such children might say, if they indeed dared to utter a word. The bus driver would be looking for seniors in the back misbehaving, Ed believed, and he was correct.

Ed unfurled the centerfold proudly to share with me, practically daring anyone looking over our shoulders to rat us out. She was a comely blonde with shoulder-length curls, I remember. Not the centerfold model, but the girl behind me to the right who sucked in her breath as the heavy-breasted Playboy model bared all (except for the parts I wanted to see most). I think her name may have been Linda. I could hear her unnatural breathing right next to my ear.

At the time I figured she was thinking what pigs boys are, but looking back now I wonder if it wasn't merely the times in which we lived, with the sexual taboo of seeing nudity in public with mixed company causing a short, sharp bit of arousal. Are you out there, young lady? Please answer for yourself.

This was Ed's big daring moment. He was aiming for immortality in the school's folklore, as The Boy Who Opened a Playboy on the School Bus. This gesture was no doubt meant to impress me, the friend he must have realized was drifting away from him. None of that went through my mind at the time, naturally, with my being not so introspective as I find myself today; instead, here's what I was finding of interest right then: that the shapely, full breasts of the pictorial model, with their lovely pink perky nipples and their finely-lined delineation of aureolae, along with the novel, highly- sexualized situation I was in on that bus, were not seeming to me the least bit arousing, or even particularly dangerous.

All I knew as I pedaled my way at 11 PM that night toward the house where Rose lived was: it was time for me to go all the way. Behind me were my parents, who might discover that I had sneaked out of the house without a word. I could only hope that at least one of them would understand I was eighteen and an individual, not someone related to Wally Cleaver. Before me was a full-blooded woman who might care only for me in an abstract, instructional, mentor way of thinking, but at the same time had definitely responded to me sexually.

Would we fuck tonight? Should we? Would she even let me in? Could I kiss her? Would I have to wear a condom?

That brought me up short. I actually stopped the bike and flushed with embarrassment in the warm evening air, mortified that I hadn't even thought to acquire a rubber. In a flash I went over the possibilities of finding such an item this late at night, and quickly ruled it out. If Harland wasn't accustomed to stashing any in the nightstand drawer, that might be that.

It's either a testament to the power of Desire or to the protective properties of Denial that I continued on my way. I pushed from my mind the ideas that Rose might find a late-night visit objectionable, might not be in the mood to be clumsily pawed by a skinny adolescent, or may have any objections to completing my education. In their place were my pure, inexperienced imaginings of what her warm cunt might feel like wrapped around my cock.

It wasn't easy knocking on that back door quietly. The outer door was metal and glass, so it rattled like a bastard. I kept expecting lights to come on and snarling dogs to attack, attached to long leashes held by fat, tobacco-spewing sheriff's deputies. That's what I deserved for seeing "The Defiant Ones" on TV recently. I knocked and rapped and rattled for what seemed like an eternity.

The light that came on blinded me for a good while, long enough that I was inside before my eyes could adjust enough to see her. The long pale blue robe encased her completely almost up to her neck, so all I could study was her sleepy face. It was a nice, pretty, friendly face, a relaxed expression that gave me quite a bit of relief. Framed by her mussed-up hair, her expression made it clear I had summoned her out of bed.

She gave me a vague smile. "Coffee?"

Without batting an eye, as though I drank it every day, I replied, "Black."

While she busied herself with the percolator and all its little accessories in the kitchen, I stood around wondering what to say. Many different ways to tell her why I was here passed through my mind. "It's time we made love, Rose". "I can't stop thinking about you and I want us to go to bed." "Rose, I don't know how to say this but I think I love-"

"You take sugar?"

"Sure. Two." That was how my dad ordered it at the Howard Johnson's.

I felt caught between two worlds. One was physical, the other emotional. Was it that delicate combination that we call "love"? Did it wear off? Was that why (as my not-often-sober Uncle Ralph used to advise) "love never lasts"?

We sipped our coffees in silence after setting them up with cream (her) and sugar (me), gazing over our cups at each other in the well-lit kitchen. I hated the taste and it wasn't nearly hot enough, but I didn't care at all. As long as it wasn't cyanide, it was just fine. Rose's eyes betrayed little, as usual. I couldn't help but feel I was supposed to explain what I was doing at her place shortly before midnight, on a school night no less. I wanted to be bold and manly about it, but what could I say that wouldn't sound ridiculous? All the phrases that summoned themselves seemed to come from old movies.

"Danny, we won't be able to stay like this forever, you know. Harland and I are planning marriage. I hope you can understand that this is only for a short time."

I didn't expect to be emotionally hurt by this, but I was. Young egos aren't ready for adult realities. Looking back, I'm happy I didn't say anything stupid to her right then.

"Yeah. Do you....love him?"

She paled at that. "It's not your business. Really, it isn't." She didn't sound cross. More like she'd anticipated that tedious question and I had just lived down to her expectation. She got up and started rummaging through a cupboard, making more noise than needed.

"I'm sorry. I was just curious. I mean, you and me doing stuff, and all."

"It's not the same, Danny."

I couldn't stop myself from getting up and going to hold her. It was instinctual. She felt good, but tight and nervous as I hugged her from behind and breathed in her scent. Her hands continued to dig through the cupboards. I noticed I had the same semi-erection I'd been sporting since getting on the bicycle, and that it was now pressed into her left buttock just above her thigh.

"I know I'm just a kid, Rose," I whispered into her neck. "I never imagined anything like you, is all."

Rose sighed and some of the tension seemed to leave her body. She stopped rummaging through the cupboard and drew away from me to give herself space. She seemed to hunch inward, and then abruptly drew herself erect before turning to face me. Her expansive eyes searched mine. I knew then that I had revealed too much of my feelings.

"Danny, I'll be happy to accommodate you this evening," Rose said in a studiously even voice. The word "accommodate" came out sounding like an unnatural term, but the rest was forceful and strong. "It can't be anything regular. You need to find someone who can be what you want her to be."

Here was that feeling of being caught between two existences, again. Part of me was delighted that I had just been given permission to have my way with Rose tonight, but the rest of me was already feeling the loss of anything more, anything to give my emotions a shore on which to anchor. Sorry for the corniness, but it was very much like that.

Add to that her phrase "can't be anything regular", and I was a mass of insecurities all over again. I looked at her and saw that now would not be the time to probe for details. I flashed on a future in which I might occasionally have sex with Rose while she carried on a true relationship with Harland, and my spirit recoiled.

Maybe that's why I suddenly found myself needing to vent an unformed anger, in the form of aggression. Perhaps that was why I moved forward to pull her to me and force her to kiss me, a ritual she had sworn to save for him. Her lips were passive as I pressed mine into them and tried to slide my tongue into her mouth and at the same time clasp my arms around her back and grind my hips into her, as we stood there in her modest kitchen.

I would show her what she would be missing. Heck, she'd be missing the very things she had brought out in me, things I hadn't even know I'd possessed before knowing her. How dare she toy with me like that? Didn't she know there'd never be a better lover for her than yours truly?

Here, feel my cock as it presses into you, you made it like it is. There, my fingers are all over the tips of your breasts, squeezing your nipples through your robe: feel them respond just like they should, to a man who can really make you feel!

Then, suddenly, I had vented it all, and now pulled away from her in shame. It was only a few moments of aggressive frustration, but Rose should never have had to put up with it. After all, hadn't she shown me only pleasure and understanding, things I would now be pursuing for much of the rest of my life?

I stood stooped with my head bowed, and saw tears I did not feel, dropping to the kitchen floor. I heard a cry in my throat that I wasn't aware of making. And then the feeling passed, like a wave of nausea, and I looked back at her with apprehension. It was with relief that I beheld an expression of understanding instead of pity. I couldn't have abided pity.

I don't remember how we got to the guest bedroom upstairs but the next thing I recall was Rose pulling back the covers and then her robe, revealing herself only in panties as she slid into the bed and waited for me to strip off my clothes. I felt a little self-conscious at my own scrawny appearance but managed just the same to doff my duds. She looked heavenly in the bed, the covers pulled back like that, and only a dim part of me wondered at all about contraception.

As I clambered onto the bed, before I could simply jump on her like some overeager ham in a stag film, Rose snagged me by my erect prick with her firm hand, dragging me by my member up to my knees, to rest close by her pillow-supported head. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to feel the warm wetness of her lips and tongue enveloping me, and her hands alternating stroking my length and kneading my balls as she fed me into her mouth.

I recall marveling at all the time I had wasted manipulating myself to arousal and orgasm. I looked down at those beautiful, pink-capped tits and the sight of this woman sucking my cock and feeling my prick and balls with her hands, blissfully aware that such things could never be happening in my life. A tinge of sadness that it would all soon be over touched me, but the sheer pleasure of feeling her tongue probe my piss hole was enough, at least for the moment, to erase such melancholy.

My hands reached down to feel her robust breasts and to caress the vee of her panties, causing Rose to open her legs. She was like my living plaything, the best instructional toy a boy could probe. As if seeming to show she had the same mixed feelings about our relationship as I, Rose moved with relaxed abandon to my touches, with me understanding that she was assuring me of the effect I had upon her. Her legs spread wide and she pressed back at my fingers as I stroked at the top of her cunt with the fingers of my left hand, through her panties.

My right hand played over the soft cushiness of her fabulous tits, tweaking those responsive nipples until her pushing back became a steady grinding. As always, her scent filled the air. "Oh, yes," she breathed to me, taking a momentary break from laving my erect penis, "feel my pussy, Danny. Feel it with your cock in my mouth."

Which had me groaning, as you can understand. All in all, perhaps the one thing I'll take to my grave about Rose is that certain way she had, a timing of sorts, in her uttering of dirty words. Nowadays it's nothing to hear a woman say something lewd and ostensibly arousing, but the days of using profanity in an artful manner may be lost forever. Imagine me, a young man of 18 in that period of time, experiencing full oral excitement at the hands of a passionate woman, and then hearing her say the words above. Just imagine.

"I want to fuck you, Rose." How I managed to get that out of my mouth in an articulate fashion escapes me, under those circumstances. I fully expected to hear her tell me that fucking was out of bounds, with no mind to how expertly I was now strumming her clit and working hard to use what I had learned about her body, how nicely my fingers were utilizing the material of her panties to rub snugly into her moist opening. I looked down at her expectantly as her tongue ran over the glans of my dick, fearing that the pleasure she was giving me would at any moment defer any possibility of us fucking, anyway, until sometime later.

Her response was as unexpected as anything else about our relationship: Rose abruptly climaxed against my fingers.

It was a small cum, with almost no sound from her at all, but I recognized it nonetheless, seeing her eyes seem to go all white as they rolled up into her head and her hips twitch against my hand. This was quite a surprise to me, as was the immense amount of wetness I could suddenly feel drenching the front of her panties. I had no idea a woman could climax so quickly, it wasn't what they said in the books at all. A few short bucks against my hand and Rose was over it, her oral and manual efforts on my penis suddenly picking up speed as her orgasm faded.

I was in awe, to put it mildly. The room positively stank of her sex juices, and it was the nicest odor I'll ever recall. My cock sang with pleasure as her tongue, lips and hands milked me.

"Put it in me Danny," Rose whispered in a barely recognizable voice as she pushed my genitals away from her face and busied herself with ripping off those soaked panties. She treated her underwear like her mortal enemy as she raised her legs to peel them off. I looked down in delight at the emerging, swollen sight of her cunt, fearing that I hadn't heard her correctly just now.

Glistening with arousal, the split of Rose's pussy showed a deep coral color, with hints of dark pink and red as she succeeded in stripping off her panties, or at least with getting them off one of her legs. The puffy, thick pair of outer lips looked like the underside of a tongue. Despite her being far from clean-shaven, I could see her clitoris standing out from under its fleshy hood at the top of her pussy, like a pearl of desire, behaving like a point that would explode in gushing liquid at the merest touch. My mouth actually watered, but my cock was already moving into position as her legs opened to draw me in. I can almost see that gawky kid instinctively moving on that bed toward his prize.

Due to Rose's wetness, the sliding in was almost effortless, as was the matching up of her clit with my pubic bone. I watched every moment of it, breathless as my swollen knob pushed forward into her body to be followed by the rest of me. I don't remember where my hands were at that moment.

I knew without instruction that the pushing of my lower hardness into the apex of her softness was the key to the whole thing. I swear it was like a choir in my head. I could feel every inch of my cock moving within her warmth as it snuggled in to meet its natural home. My balls rubbed up against the lower folds of her pussy and against the sheet, just above the crack of her ass. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out in pleasure.

What I hadn't expected was the feel of her supple legs wrapping around my back and ass. I barely had a moment to register the excruciating pleasure of Rose's hot, moist cunt channel hugging my rampant erection before her legs and hips began an urgent, pulling movement.

I fell forward on her and her mouth met mine. Thank god there was no more of the resistance to kissing; instantly my mouth was invaded and urgently worked upon like it was a substitute for my cock. I instinctively thrust my tongue tip between her lips and was rewarded with an aggressive chewing, licking and biting as her hands joined in by wrapping themselves around my shoulders. Her nipples positively burned into my chest every time our bodies met.

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bydjeroticon© 17 comments/ 98734 views/ 5 favorites

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