The Bridge

Although the following was written by a male, it employs the first person narrative of a female. It simply seems more effective and believable presented this way.

It is a work of fiction. None of the circumstances or characters bear any resemblance to actual events or real persons.

JPB

*

My name is Jane Adams. Though I had always felt I led a happy life, I knew there must be more to it than my experience during my first twenty-five years. It's not that I don't like men, I've always told myself I just haven't met the right one. I had fun on my few dates in high school and college but they never led to anything serious.

On my twenty-fifth birthday last May, I reflected on my life and the thought occurred to me that; here I am in my mid-twenties and still a virgin!

Sure, I had a few close calls. In high school, there was one boy in particular I had the "hots" for, as we girls used to say. His name was Bert Olson. We would park out by the lake and Bert would start kissing me and plunge his tongue into my mouth. Then he would rub my breasts through my blouse and bra, once or twice even managing to get his hand inside and touch a nipple. It felt good, but my mother had told me that I shouldn't let a boy do such things. Bert would also put his hand between my legs and rub me down there! That felt even better and I got wet. But, I knew I shouldn't let him do that either. My mother had warned me what it could lead to.

Some of the girls in my class had already gotten pregnant and had babies, loosing their chance to go to college and becoming professional women. I didn't want that to happen to me.

Sometimes, while Bert was feeling me with one hand, he would take his other hand and grasp my wrist and place my hand on his lap. I could plainly feel how hard he was. Several times, I let him take his penis out. I had never seen one in that condition before. Of course, I knew what boys have down there. In my earlier teen years, I baby-sat to pick up extra spending money. So I knew that little boy babies had that little thing that sometimes would shoot like a fire hose, spaying pee all over me. I also saw Bobby, my younger brother, a few times, as he emerged from the shower. Several times, as young children, when Bobby and I were out walking in the woods, he would take his dickie out to pee. That's what we called it then. Observing how handy that little appendage was, I thought it unfair that boys had it so much easier than us girls.

But, until Bert displayed what was hiding in his pants, I had never seen a hard one, although I had heard from other girls that they get that way. It was so big and fearsome, but it thrilled me to see it, nevertheless. But, knowing what it could do to me, it scared me a lot too.

That first time I saw it, nothing further happened. Bert put it back and kissed me, then drove me home. But a few weeks later when he withdrew that frightening but fascinating instrument, he guided my hand to it and told me to grasp it, then to start pumping my hand up and down. I was surprised to find that the skin moved freely under my hand. I soon discovered that I liked the feel of Bert's penis in my hand and observed that he enjoyed what I was doing. I kept this up and down motion for a couple of minutes before he urged me to move my hand faster and grip his penis tighter. As I complied, I soon I felt it get even harder and bigger.

"Get ready," he shouted. "I'm gunna come!"

I didn't know what that meant, but I soon found out.

His body began writhing, as if he was being tortured. Then it happened. A jet of white stuff shot from the end of his penis and landed on my jeans and all over my arm.

"Don't stop, babe. Don't stop yet," Bert ordered. So, I kept on stroking as more white stuff leaped out, although not as forcefully as that first jet. Soon it was merely dribbling out of the small hole in the end of his penis. Now, he seemed very relaxed.

"Thanks, babe. I needed that. You can't imagine how much I needed that. You turn me on so. I've had blue balls those other nights we were out here."

I didn't know what blue balls were.

I used my hand to please Bert many times that last few months in high school. We had both turned eighteen just before that first time I satisfied him that way. Several times, as I was doing it, he would put his hand on the back of my head and try to force my face down to where my hand was stroking him. I knew what he wanted me to do. I had heard other girls, more adventurous than I, talk about giving blow jobs. But, I wasn't ready for that, and didn't know if I would ever be.

Bert would also put his hand between my legs. And when I was wearing a skirt, try to put his hand up there. I know he felt the wetness on my panties, and I wanted his hand to probe inside of me. I longed for that big hard penis of his to thrust in there too, but I knew the consequences of that, so I pulled away and firmly saidno.

Bert and I graduated that June. I went on a long trip to the western states with my parents during the summer. We saw each other once or twice in late August. Both times, he tried to get me to go all the way. That's what we called it then. I still refused even though he assured me he would wear a condom. Somehow I wasn't yet ready to go all the way. I liked Bert but was certain I didn't love him, which made it easier to refuse to submit to his wishes. Idid, however please him with my hand as I had learned to do months before. That, at least, temporarily seemed to relieve the pent-up pressure that was driving him in his attempts to convince me to agree to the ultimate joining of male and female bodies.

In September we went off to separate colleges, and I lost track of Bert Olson. That chapter in my life was over.

I soon found that college was very different from high school. I had to study very hard to keep up and thus had few dates during my freshman year. But early in my sophomore year, I met Tom Stanton. Tom was handsome and large man of twenty-one. He was a Junior and quarterback on the football team. We began dating and I fell for him immediately.

Of course, like Bert, Tom tried to seduce me, but, as I had previously, I resisted. But, on our second date, I put the knowledge I had gained with Bert, to use. If I thought Bert's penis was large and fearsome, Tom's was huge and beautiful. Once while stroking this prodigious manhood, I remarked on its dimensions.

"It's nine and quarter inches long and five inches in circumference," Tom bragged.

Even without actual measurement, I knew that Bert's was at least two inches shy of what Tom was displaying. Tom's information on his dimensions peaked my curiosity. Having never observed erections, other than Tom's and Bert's, I had no standard by which to compare them with what might be considered "normal." Obviously, my little fifteen-year-old brother's limp penis as he stepped out of the shower gave me no clue as to how long a normal sized aroused male should be. And, I certainly had no way to compare circumferences, but Tom's stout meat certainly outshone Bert's rather skinny one.

"It sounds like you've actually taken measurements, I quipped, as I continued stroking him. We had been doing this regularly, and Tom was taking longer to come than he had the first few times.

"Sure. I suppose all guys do. They always want to know how their dicks stack up," he laughed.

"How would they know? I mean how would they know about others?"

"Oh, there're books where you can get that information. But, as kids, we used to get together and measure. I always came out on top."

"You're bragging," I scolded as I increased the force and speed of my stroking.

"Just being truthful," Tom responded, his breathing becoming heavier.

But, I knew from experience that he wasn't ready to erupt yet. When he did, it would be a flood! "You mean you and other boys got naked together and got hard... hard-ons?"

"Sure, we used to jack off together - see who could come first and shoot the farthest - that sort of thing."

"Grosse!" was the only response I could think of at that bit of male trivia.

"But, we all grew out of that kid stuff" he assured me.

I tried picturing my little brother engaging in such activity with his young buddies, but couldn't conjure up such a disturbing image.

Increasing the rapidity and vigor of my stroking still farther, I inquired about what I had been curious about since the beginning of this conversation. "So, how much are you above normal, assuming youare above normal?" Somehow I couldn't imagine men with larger penises than the one in front of me, the one I was stroking with my two hands. Believe me, there was plenty of room for both of my hands.

"I can tell you that I've spoiled you for any guy you'll ever run into," he panted.

I could tell he was getting close, and prepared for the gushing onslaught. It would be messy. But, I had figured out a way to handle that. At the time, I thought I loved Tom and would do anything for him, except what we both wanted to do so badly. There was no more time to consider. The moment was at hand. With both of my hands still gripping the base and mid portion of Tom's immense manhood, I brought my mouth down on its tip, tasting the clear fluid which precedes the torrent of white semen which was working its way up the lengthy shaft. Tom gasped in pleasure as he felt my warm moist lips on the tip of his penis and that first rush of warmth cascaded into my mouth and down my throat. The flood kept coming and coming as I swept my tongue over the smooth ruby skin that graces the business end of the male organ. I kept my lips tight against the prodigious sausage and Tom began thrusting it in and out of my mouth as if it were a medieval battering ram.

Our relationship, if that's what it was, ended a month later when Tom apparently found a girl whowould go all the way. The break-up was difficult for me. But I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a few months later that his new girlfriend was pregnant. They both dropped out of school and ended up getting married. Later I heard that they have three kids, and Tom was working as a car salesman.

Until a few days ago, I had never again done anything like I did with Bert and Tom. But, I'm getting ahead of my story.

After graduation from college, I landed a job with one of the city's top law firms. There weren't many single men in the office. And even if there had been, I didn't really want to get involved with guys at work. However, I met some very pleasant women, most of them older. They liked many of the same things I did, so we went to plays and concerts, and sometimes out to dinner together. We enjoyed each other's company, but there was nothing sexual between us. I knew that some women do things with each other, but I never have. It was a pleasant life, but not very exciting. Many nights, lying awake in bed, I would think about Bert Olson and Tom Stanton and remember the exciting things I did with them. Especially memories of how Tom's big thick penis felt in my hand, and in my mouth, would come flooding back and I'd recall the taste of Tom's warm load of cum as he shot it down my throat. At such times, I think about how his stiff penis would have felt buried deep into my vagina, and sometimes wished I had let him do it at least once. When I would lie in bed thinking about these things, I knew that, if there had been a man in the bed with me, we'd be doing it. With that thought raging in my brain, my hand would slide down to the place between my legs and begin fingering my clit until wave after wave of wonderful sensation would engulf me. Only then, could I relax and drop off to sleep.

Despite my rather pleasant life with work and my female friends, I frequently felt strange. I had never been sexually attracted to women, but why hadn't I met a man who affected me the way Tom did? Was there something the matter with me?

But, that all changed. Even if he had never called me, I felt differently about myself after meeting Earl. As soon as I met him I knew he was someone special, someone I wanted.

I went to a symphony concert by myself one evening. None of my girl friends could make it and the program included a work I wanted to hear very badly. Seated next to me, was a tall handsome gentleman in his mid-thirties. I was surprised to observe that he was also unaccompanied. At the conclusion of the first work he spoke, commenting on the orchestra's performance. After the second selection, it was intermission and I decided it was my turn to say something. I noted how much I was enjoying the concert. He agreed, then asked if I would join him for a glass of champagne.

I almost didn't accept his offer, but feeling there was safety in the crowded concert hall lobby, I did. Besides, I liked his looks already.

Presenting me with the champagne, he told me that his name was Earl Worthington and that he was an engineer at a large aerospace company.

I introduced myself and thanked him for the champagne.

When the concert was over, he offered to drive me home. With more than a little trepidation, I agreed. As we reached my apartment, he asked if he could see me again. Already attracted to him, I gave him my phone number.

A few nights later, Earl called, inviting me to dinner. He chose a very expensive restaurant, one I had never expected to see the inside of. It proved as marvelous as its reputation. During dinner, he told me about his job involving space and missiles. I didn't quite understand it all. When we reached my door, I let him kiss me goodnight, and I kissed him back, like I've kissed no other man since Tom Stanton. I hoped I hadn't scared him away. I didn't ask him in, not yet telling him I lived alone.

As we dated over the next few weeks, I realized I was completely in love with this wonderful man. But, one night, he dropped the "bombshell" - announcing that he was married, but quickly adding that he and his wife were separated. Not knowing how to handle this revelation, I immediately asked him to take me home. As he drove off, I missed him already.

When Earl didn't call over the next few weeks, I debated calling him. Married or not, I had decided I wanted this man. After all, he had said that he and his wife were separated. But, maybe he had found someone else, perhaps even gone back to his wife. I was miserable contemplating such possibilities, and didn't know what to do.

Finally, one Saturday afternoon, Earl phoned apologizing for not calling, explaining that he had been busy at work, and on travel. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but agreed when he said he wanted to take me to a great seafood restaurant that evening, that is if I didn't have other plans. I didn't, and accepted.

He was right as usual. The restaurant was superb. After dinner, he suggested he show me his house, which he said was nearby. I was apprehensive about visiting any man's home, especially a married man. I almost refused, but not wanting to take another chance of losing him, I agreed. Just being with him, caused me to lose my previous inhibitions. He showed me around his house, which was very nice - quite large with a pretty yard and a hot tub enclosed by a high fence. I'd never seen a hot tub at someone's home before and it looked extremely inviting. Earl fixed drinks and we sat and talked about what each wanted from life. Neither desired to become rich, just comfortable and have a nice home. We both shared a love of classical music and discovered several other interests in common. Eventually, we began getting closer. We kissed for a long time. Finally, he put his hand on my breasts. I didn't pull away. In fact, I reveled at his touch. Before I knew what was happening, Earl's hand was inside my blouse and bra, fingering one of my nipples. Then, he gently placed my hand on his lap, his hardening penis very apparent.

I drew back.

Sensing my hesitation, he apologized. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm proceeding a little too fast, but you turn me on so, I can barely restrain myself."

"I'm not sure I want things to proceed this rapidly, especially since you're married," I replied. But I already knew that I wanted Earl, married or not.

"Was married," he replied. "My divorce became final this week," he announced triumphantly.

"That's great news!" I responded, unable to conceal my elation. "Nevertheless," I continued. "I know you're experienced. I'm not. In fact, I'm still a virgin. I can't help wondering, how many other women you've been with. Am I to be another of your 'trophies?'"

"No, you certainly won't be one of my 'trophies,' as you put it," he replied emphatically. "I feel differently about you than any other woman I've ever met. And, I'm not saying that just to get you into bed, as intriguing as that prospect is. As to other women I have been with, it's not a long list - three or four in addition to my now ex-wife - and none since we separated. I don't claim to be a saint, just a man, a fairly successful man for my age, who is in love with you, he said. "If my sexual history shocks you, maybe we ought to call it off now, before either of us becomes more interested than I already am."

"I don't want to call it off, Earl," I said. "It's just that I've had so little experience and I'm not accustomed to what's happening. I petted a little in high school and college, but I never let it to go any farther." I guess what I had done with Bert and Tom could be classified as petting.

"But, somehow with you, Earl, I want it to go farther." With those words, I sealed my fate and we both knew it.

"We're going to do it, Jane, if not tonight, soon!"

"I know it's bound to happen. But, being a virgin, it represents a big step for me. Please understand."

"I understand. And I'll try to be patient; and, when our time does come - gentle. But, I'm having difficulty holding back much longer. You turn me on so," he gasped. "You can't imagine how horny I am right now."

I had learned from Bert, about blue balls and didn't want Earl to suffer that fate because of me. And, with my experience with both Bert and Tom, I knew how to prevent it.

Always before, it was the male who took the lead, by unzipping and extracting and displaying his wares. This time, I was determined that Earl wouldn't go unsatisfied. I placed one hand firmly around the bulge in his trousers and stroked. Then, with my other hand, I reached for his zipper and pulled. I was greeted by a bulging set of boxers. "You're going to have to help a little here," I told him.

With that he reached down and withdrew the strangest looking male organ I had ever seen.

He obviously read my puzzled expression and said. "I should have warned you that I'm not circumcised."

"I've never seen...

"You've never seen an uncircumcised penis before?"

"No," I responded somewhat shocked. "I thought all of them looked pretty much the same."

"Most, but not all, are circumscribed," he informed me. "It's common practice, especially in this country, but not universal."

"But why, if it's such common practice, weren't you?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly. It's so routine. Perhaps it was because my mother died when I was born and the resulting confusion. It's hard to say. I wasn't too cognizant at the time."

"I've never seen a guy who wasn't - my brother and the few guys I dated..."

Earl pulled back the foreskin to reveal the moist front part, the part that's dry and pink on those circumcised penises I'd seen. Then he gently reached over and took my hand and placed my trembling fingers around it. It was growing each second, and the foreskin was pulling back of its own accord and it began to look much like the others.

As I curled my hand around it, he gasped and told me my touch felt very good. I was glad my experience with Bert and Tom had taught me how to please a man this way, and had to admit that Earl's beautifully fashioned penis felt wonderful in my grip. No, it wasn't as monstrous at that which Tom Stanton carried around, but I knew right then, it was the one I wanted in me. As I stroked, it grew in size and hardness with each passing second. As it did, I began to stroke slowly, as I had in the past. But, I realized this was different. It felt so good in my hand. And, I could tell Earl was enjoying what I was doing. Before I realized it, he put his hand on my leg, ran it up all the way up to my crotch and slid my panties to the side. I was already very wet, and he had no difficulty inserting a finger into my opening, then sliding it back out to find my clitoris. As he began to massage it, I stroked his now fully hard, beautiful penis even more vigorously.