Peggy & I Ch. 01

"Mom and Dad will be here day after tomorrow about Noon. They're staying at the Marriott. My aunt Beth and Uncle Ross are going to be there, too, and my cousins Sara and Elaine will be with them.

"Dad's throwing a pre-graduation dinner for me, and I asked him if I could bring a friend, and he said OK. Can you make it?"

"Sure. My parents don't get in till the next day. They're driving in and staying the night. That way they don't have to fight traffic the next day for graduation. They're taking me to the China Pearl in Chinatown for lunch."

"The dim sum place with the crispy-noodle-coated deep fried stuffed crab claws?"

"The very same."

"I love that place!"

"Wanna come with? You can bring your Mom and Dad, and even your aunt and uncle. The place has some huge tables."

"I'd love to. I'll call Mom tomorrow. I know the only thing they have planned for their visit is the Duck Tour that afternoon and the MFA the day after graduation. They haven't been to Fine Arts since the new wing was opened five years ago or so."

"The Duck Tour?" I asked. "The MFA I can understand, but the Duck Tour?"

Peg laughed and said, "They go on the Duck Tour whenever they're here in Boston together. They met at Harvard Law. The day before they graduated, Dad took Mom on the Duck Tour with Grandpa and Grandma. He proposed to Mom on the Charles River. Now it's a must."

"That's romantic. Get the time of the tour, and I'll see if I can get seats, too. We'll celebrate with them."

"That's as corny as Mom and Dad," she said, then kissed me. "I love corny."

When we finished dinner, she washed the dishes and I dried them and put them away.

Peg had to go to the bathroom. While she was there, I closed the drapes, lit a few candles, and put on some slow jazz music. I got the bottle of wine I had stashed, along with two glasses. I had a bottle of massage oil, and I put it in a "patio size" crock pot that was designed for serving nacho cheese and the like. It had a "warm" setting that was perfect for heating massage oil when the crock was filled with water and left uncovered. It's amazing what you can find for four bucks at Goodwill!

When Peg came out of the bathroom, she smiled at my arrangements. I walked over to her and took her by the hand. I kissed her lips, neck and shoulders. I turned her around and started to unbutton her shirt, reaching around her to do so. Her head went back to rest on my chest. She stood there with her arms at her sides, sighing and moaning as I undressed her. As time soon revealed, this was our favorite way to start sex. Still is.

When her shirt was completely unbuttoned, I reached up and started to play with her breasts through her bra. It was a simple, thin cotton bra, and her breasts felt delicious through the material.

"I want your hands on my skin," she said.

I pulled her shirt from her shoulders and off her arms. As I touched the clasp of her bra, she shuddered slightly. I pulled the straps off her shoulders, and then reached around to hold the cups and pull them away.

I let the bra drop and then cupped her breasts with my hands.

"God I love your breasts. They are so sexy."

"They're too small," she said.

"Too small for what?" I asked. "Too small for one of Goldie's dreamboats, maybe, but not for a man who knows how to appreciate the female form.

"Peg, they're perfect for a woman your size, and a woman your size is perfect . . ."

I kissed her neck.

". . . perfect for me."

Peggy reached up and put her hands on mine.

"I love it when you say that, Honey."

I whispered I her ear, "I think it's time I saw something I have been dreaming about for weeks."

My hands left her breasts and moved down her torso. They met at the front of her jeans, and I unbuttoned them. When I pulled the zipper down, her knees buckled and she pressed back against me.

I pulled her jeans down a little and turned her around. I sat her on the sofa and pulled her shoes and socks off. Then I reached up to the waistband and pulled her jeans all the way off, slowly. I caressed her legs as the denim moved off. When the jeans were removed, I saw she had on a pair of pink cotton panties. I moved my hands slowly back up her legs, and when they reached her panties, I pulled them down very slowly. As I caught my first glimpse of her furry pussy, I gasped. She did, too.

Her pubic hair was almost untrimmed. I guessed she just took off enough to keep it from poking out when she wore a swimsuit, and I was pretty sure she didn't own a bikini. Her hair looked soft and inviting. I thought it looked beautiful and sexy.

I pulled her panties all the way off. She was now naked before me for the first time. She was shaking a little, though it was very warm in the room. I knelt down next to her and held her tightly.

"I love you, Peg."

"I love you, too, Al."

"Lay still, Sweetheart, and enjoy."

I picked up the warm massage oil and applied a little to her hand. I massaged her right hand, finger by finger and then the palm. I worked my way from her hand to her shoulder, and then did the other hand an arm. Next, I massaged her neck and worked my way down to her breasts. I kissed them and sucked on her nipples. She moaned softly.

I put oil on her breasts and rubbed them both at the same time. When I pinched her nipples lightly, she gasped.

"Oh, yesss. I like that. Do that some more."

I did.

When I finished with her breasts I moved down to her stomach, kissing her ribs as I went. She smiled and made a little noise at each rib. I massaged oil into her hips next, and then started on her thighs. Her legs opened slightly and then closed when I massaged her thighs, but I had no intention yet of moving to her pussy.

I pulled out a bath towel, and told her to turn over onto it to keep the massage oil off the couch.

She did so, and I went to work on her back. I massaged her back for fifteen minutes to "oohs" and "ahs."

I my hands reached her hips. I kneaded her gluteus maximus.

"Peg, I think your ass is sweet and luscious. I don't know how a woman could be put together so perfectly."

"My ass is too small, too."

I licked it and she squirmed a little.

"Just the right size for me."

I reached down and spread her legs slowly. She inhaled sharply and caught her breath. My fingers inched their way up to her labia, but did not touch them yet. She raised her hips up a little in anticipation.

I reached underneath with my other hand and put it on her pubic hair.

"Peg, your hair is so soft. I bet what's next to it is soft, too."

"Oh, oh, ohhh. Touch me, touch me now."

I took one finger and ran it to her labia.

"Oh, yesss."

I circled her lips and lightly ran my fingers over them.

"Oh, God, that is so good. Touch me harder. Touch me there!"

With the hand that was underneath her, I lightly touched her clit. She shuddered and pressed herself into the couch.

"Oh, yeah! Ahhhh AHHHH!"

As I rubbed her clit, I slowly moved one finger into her pussy, which was now very wet.

"Oh, my God. Oh my God. Oh, my God!"

Her hips rode up and down on my finger as I massaged her clit. I rubbed gently at first, and then rubbed harder as she drove her hips against the finger I had in her vagina. I was hoping that putting it in from behind would maybe hit her G-spot.

"Oh, yesss. Oh, yess. Oh ahh AHHHNGGHHH!"

She spasmed for quite a while and then collapsed on my hand.

I lay next to her and caressed her hair.

"You are my beautiful, beautiful Peggy," I whispered in her ear again and again.

Finally, she turned to me and hugged me.

"I love you sooo much," she said.

She started to undo my shirt, and I said, "No. Let's wait a while. I want to enjoy the sensation of you naked next to me for a while. Right now there's nothing in the world that would make me feel better than that."

She looked up at me and said, "God, where did you learn to do all that stuff. You said you were a virgin, too. That was the kind of sex you read about in romance novels."

"You gave me the idea."

"What?"

"You said you researched masturbation on Google. I typed in 'romantic sex.' It took me to a website called Literotica. They had all sorts of erotic romance stories with lingering slow licking and rubbing, but they had something even better as well.

"I noticed they had a forum section, and one of the forums was called How To. When I clicked on it, it was a forum for writers."

"What . . . It taught you how to format my paragraphs?" she joked.

"Sort of. It had sections on how to describe great sex of every kind when writing stories. It had quite a number of threads by women who wanted men to know how a woman wanted to be fingered. I realized that in addition to being instructive to writers, it was also instructive to inexperienced men."

"Like you," she giggled.

"Yeah. Exactly," I said. "I read six, maybe eight threads, and paid attention to the ones that were similar. I figured that if they were common among different writers, they were probably good advice. So, was it?"

"Was it what?"

"Good advice, silly."

"She grabbed me again in a tight hug, and said, "It was the best, Honey. Thanks for taking the time to find out how to please me!

"Did you find the thing about heating the massage oil there, too?"

"Uh . . . well . . . I, uh . . ."

"Spit it out, mister!"

"Goldie."

"What?!?!? Did you two . . .? I'll kill her if . . . and then you . . ."

"Oh, no no no . . . no, never. God, no! I just asked her what you liked. You know, if she knew what flowers, jewelry, other stuff . . . you know like that. Research."

"Oh? And did she offer to give you a massage?" she asked playfully.

"Nnnn, no." I stuttered. "I saw she had a bottle of massage oil, and I asked her about it. She said that a great way to tell if a suitor was an ape or a gentleman was to see if he was slow and gentle or rough, quick and uncaring. A slow massage, she said, was a good omen, but she cautioned me to warm up the oil first."

"Well, maybe she isn't a brainless slut gold digger after all," Peg laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. She's been nice to me as a roommate. I actually owe her for what she taught you."

She kissed me again.

"It was nice. Good memory to look back on."

She was toying with my buttons as she said that, and she started to unbutton my shirt.

"Your turn," she said.

She took my shirt off and rubbed on my shoulders.

"Ooo. I like that."

"I know. Turn over."

I flopped onto my belly, and she rubbed my back with some of the massage oil. Man, that warm oil really did feel good.

What felt even better was when she poured a puddle of oil on my back and rubbed her tits all over my back. It really didn't work as a massage, but the knowledge that she was rubbing her tits on my back gave me an instant hard-on!

She flipped me over and unzipped my pants. She took my pants, undershorts, shoes and socks off, and then looked at my naked body next to her. She idly ran the backs of her fingers up and down my legs, and finally settled on my penis.

She applied some of the massage oil and wrapped her hand around the shaft. It slid up and down easily, and the sensation was like nothing I ever imagined. She sometimes worked the whole penis, and sometimes concentrated on the head. She watched my reaction when she did different things, and she smiled when I tensed up with pleasure.

After a while, she just gazed into my eyes as she stroked me.

"I love getting you hard and rubbing on you," she said. "I love the way you look at my body. I never thought I would find a man who would look at me the way you do. I love you."

After a few minutes of this, I exploded in her hand, and she used the towel to clean me up. Then, with her tits still slippery from the massage oil, she lay on top of me with her arms folded under her chin.

"I'm so happy right now," she said. "Just think. If we hadn't applied to the same company at the same time, we may never have met!"

"Oh yeah! Whittenstone. You heard from them yet?"

"No, but they said it wouldn't be until graduation before they notified anyone."

"I hope we both get the nod."

She leaned down and kissed me.

"That would be nice."

We both got dressed and watched The Maltese Falcon while we sipped the wine. I was leaning back on the couch, and she was cuddled up against me.

When it was over, she looked at me and said in her best imitation of Humphrey Bogart, "You're the stuff that dreams are made of."

I kissed her again.

After the movie, I knew she had to leave. We had discussed this eventuality, and she was adamant about not wanting intercourse before she was married. It wasn't a particularly religious reason for this, but it was a wonderfully moral reason.

"I want to tell the man I marry that his is the first penis to be inside me. I think that this is sexy, and I think he will appreciate that I held out for him."

I agreed that it was the best course. We decided that if she slept over at his point in our relationship, there might be too much temptation, so I walked her back to her dorm and kissed her good night.

The next day was hectic. There was some paperwork we had to do, and we had to pick up caps and gowns. She finished packing up her dorm room, sold her refrigerator to a Summer Session student, and got all of her pictures off the walls.

I didn't need to rush packing, as my lease was September to September. I had a sublet coming in about two weeks after graduation. A grad student needed the place for a summer internship. That gave me plenty of time.

I made some calls and set up a few things I needed to take care of. We met for dinner again, but went out to eat this time. We thought it best not to have any sexual agenda that night, as family was liable to call about the next day.

We saw a movie, shared some popcorn, and went to bed. Separately.

The next day, I walked over to her dorm a little before Noon, and we waited for her parents to call. I had on a pair of khakis and a sport jacket. She was wearing a cute white dress that Goldie had picked out for her. Simple, straight lines with a playful red and blue collar. She was gorgeous in it!

Just after Noon, she got the call that they were at the Boston Marriott at Copley Place. We took the "T" (the MBTA) to Copley Place, and found the Marriott. Stepping inside, we were met with a fantastic lobby. I had seen the outside numerous times as I passed by, but I never imagined that the inside was so beautiful.

We took the elevator to one of the upper floors and found her parents' room. She knocked on the door, and a beautiful couple in their late forties opened the door.

"Mom! Dad!" Peg exclaimed as she ran to them and hugged them.

"Peg, you look beautiful!" her mother exclaimed, holding Peg at arm's length to look at her. "The dress . . . it's magnificent!"

I got the impression that if Peggy's dress was made of burlap, her mother would have made the same comment. The dress was nice, but not that nice. It was the fact that Peggy was in a dress, not jeans or shorts that awed her mother.

"Introduce us to this handsome young man?" said her father.

Again, I was young, but not that handsome. It was the fact that she was actually with a boy.

"Oh, sorry Daddy. Mom, Dad, this is Alex. He's graduating with me."

Both shook my hand.

"Call me Ed, and this is Leni."

"Pleased to meet you both. Everyone calls me Al."

"Peg, why don't the two of you enjoy the view while we wait for your Aunt Beth and Uncle Ross to get here?"

Ed and Leni had a suite. The sitting room was nicely appointed with comfortable chairs, a bar and one of the best views of Boston I had seen.

We sat near the window, and Leni brought over a couple of sodas. I recognized the brand as one of Peg's favorites and wondered for a millisecond before I remembered. It was Peg's mom who brought it.

We all chatted about school and my major for a few minutes. The knock at the door brought Aunt Beth and Uncle Ross into the room, along with Sara and Elaine.

Peg's aunt an uncle looked a little younger than her parents, and Sara and Elaine looked like they were in high school.

Peg ran to her aunt and uncle and they hugged and kissed. Aunt Beth looked at her.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my niece, Peggy?" she laughed.

Peggy spun around to show her dress.

"I love it!" said Aunt Beth.

"Thank him," she said, pointing to me. "Alex is the reason that I decided to . . . uh . . ."

"To stop using a random system for picking mismatched pants, shorts and tops?"

Blushing, Peg said, "Yeah, that."

Aunt Beth walked over to me and gave me a hug.

"Glad to meet you, Alex. Anyone who could inspire her to dress like that, has got to be wonderful!"

Her dad said, "I think he likes to be called Al."

Uncle Ross said, "Well, glad to meet you Al. Girls?"

Sara and Elaine came over, introduced themselves and nervously shook my hand.

Ed and Leni had pre-ordered sandwiches and drinks for lunch. They arrived, and the waiter set them up on the bar. The agenda apparently was to look at this magnificent view, have a leisurely lunch and catch up.

Aunt Beth was Leni's sister, and they had not seen each other for nearly a year. Sara and Elaine hadn't seen Peg for even longer. That left Ed, Uncle Ross and me.

While the women were engaged in animated conversation, Ed, Uncle Ross and I got to know each other.

Ed is a patent lawyer, specializing in international patent law. Uncle Ross is an accountant in a hospital.

I explained that I was looking for a job in materials-handling equipment design.

"Where did you two meet?" asked Uncle Ross.

I explained the chance meeting at the employment fair at school.

"Ah," said Ed, "Timing. Timing is everything. Even in humor. Ask me what the secret to good humor is."

Uncle Ross rolled his eyes.

"I'll bite. What is the secret to . . ."

"Timing," yelled Ed before I could finish the sentence.

We all laughed.

Uncle Ross asked, "Ed, did you order the usual?"

"You bet, but don't ask what they charge for a bottle of it here," said Ed. "Over behind the bar. Get me one, too. Just a splash." Then looking at me, he said, "Do you drink, Al?"

"I have a glass of wine from time to time."

"Ever drink scotch?"

"Yeah, once. Someone I knew at a frat decided he was going to act sophisticated for his new girlfriend. He went to a liquor store and asked for a single malt scotch. He heard that sophisticated men drank single malt.

"The owner of the store pointed to the single malt section, and asked what kind of scotch my friend wanted. Not wanting to seem inexperienced, my buddy just walked over and found a bottle that wasn't the cheapest, but not the most expensive. He said 'There it is,' to impress the clerk and bought it.

"He gave me a drink, and I thought it tasted like a distilled truck tire. Haven't tried scotch since then."

Ed laughed.

"Do you remember what brand it was?"

"Not sure. I think it sounded like Lafrog or Lafroog."

Uncle Ross was back with two glasses. His had scotch and ice and Ed's just had scotch, it seemed.

Both of them laughed and together they said, "Laphroaig."

"Al," said Uncle Ross, "You were ambushed. Laphroaig is one of the peatiest scotches there is."

The blank look on my face prompted an explanation.

"Scotch is made from malted barley. When the sprouting barley is dried, the Scots use peat. The more peat that is used in conjunctions with other fuels, the stronger the burnt peat flavor. Giving a first time scotch drinker a shot of Laphroaig is like giving a kid a kalamata olive as his first olive."

"That I can understand," I said. "It took a while to learn to like olives enough to try different kinds, and now my favorite on pizza are kalamatas."