The Summer of '77

After dinner Joyce invited me into the living room to show me something. As I sat down she pulled it out from behind a throw pillow next to the arm of the sofa. It was a copy of The Joy of Sex, at the time a somewhat famous (or infamous depending on your churchgoing habits) book that had come out a few years before. I wasn't sure if Joyce bought it especially for us, or if she'd had it for some time.

"What do you think?" she asked slyly. "Would you like to try some other things?"

"Oh yeah!" I replied, making her laugh with my enthusiastic response.

"I thought you might." She sat down on the couch next to me. "Let's see...where to begin?"

We spent the next half hour thumbing through the pages and looking over the different positions, some of which we had already done, and others that looked pretty exotic. I told Joyce they all looked good to me. She came back a few times to one that I'd heard the guys at school call "doggy style," but Joyce was far too classy for such a reference. All she said was that one looked particularly inviting.

"Would you like to go upstairs and get started?" She asked sweetly.

I readily agreed and within a few minutes we were naked and in her bed enjoying some hot foreplay. When she was ready, Joyce moved herself into position, on all fours, facing the east window over the headboard. I moved in behind her and she reached between her legs to guide my hardness into her.

Even before I was fully inside I could tell that this was going to be different from the other positions we had tried, and would become a favorite. It was a completely new sensation and Joyce's tone as she encouraged me was different, too. It was throaty, almost animalistic in its intensity. Imitating the illustrations in the book, I grabbed Joyce by the waist and began to slowly thrust in and out, waiting for her to signal an increase in the pace.

"Yes," she grunted through clenched teeth. "Take me!"

That was something new, too, and altogether arousing. Now it seemed that Joyce, after all her wonderful coaching and encouragement, was ready for me to take charge. In a matter of a minute or so her tanned, athletic body quivered vigorously and she lost herself in an intense climax that nearly halted her breathing.

"Oh, yeah!" she cried. "Oh my god! Don't stop! Don't stop! Yeaaahhh!"

Her head shook uncontrollably. Clearly this was a position that gave Joyce the maximum of pleasure.

"Oh my god!" she gasped as her breathing began to subside.

Then she reached between her legs and began to gently caress my balls with her fingers. Combine that with her own amazing display and it didn't take me long.

"Oh, mama!" I grunted. "I'm coming!"

"That's it, sweetie. Come for mama. Yes!"

I went over the edge and unleashed a torrent into her that seemed to last an eternity. I was covered in sweat from my exertions and gradually withdrew from her before collapsing on the bed. Joyce simply fell forward onto her stomach, sated. Eventually our breathing subsided and we looked at each other.

After a few minutes we were startled by the ringing of the telephone on the nightstand. Joyce reached over to answer it.

"Oh, hi Steph!" she said breezily to her daughter who was calling to check in. "How's the lake?"

I could hear Stephanie's voice on the other end but couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Oh, yes, he worked in the yard this morning and then at the club this afternoon. I think he's out with friends this evening." She cunningly winked at me while Stephanie talked some more. "Honestly, Stephanie! Where did you get your mind?"

I wondered if Stephanie was giving her mother a hard time for having me around the house when Joyce was the only one there. If so, Joyce was growing skilled at coming off entirely innocent.

I think Stephanie's joking with me and her mother was good-natured, but I was tempted to see the look on her face if she ever found out it was true. 'Hello, Stephanie? It's Nick, and in case you're wondering, yes, your mother and I are at it like knives.' A nice daydream, anyway.

I lay there in a pleasurable haze while mother and daughter talked on the phone for several more minutes. The possibility entered my foggy mind a couple of times of what might happen if Stephanie was actually confronted with the fact of Joyce and me as lovers. I was enjoying it all too much to seriously consider the implications. Besides, we were extremely careful and discreet. Who knew but that Stephanie might even approve?

I heard Joyce hang up the receiver and then felt her roll over next to me, her hand reflexively cupping my cock and balls. Occasionally she would run her fingers gently through my pubic hair, a sensation that was amazingly relaxing. We lay like that as we drifted blissfully off to sleep.

Stephanie and Danny would be home the next evening around dinnertime. I had to work another long day at the club, so Joyce roused me around 10:00. She told me that I had to earn my breakfast by trying a new position.

This time she sat at the edge of the bed while I stood on the floor. Then she leaned back on her hands and spread her legs to receive me. The height of the mattress was perfect for me to comfortably stand while thrusting in and out of her. This time we came together. Taking advantage of the closed windows and our solitude in the house, we let out joyful and uninhibited moans.

So on Friday afternoon I was a virgin. By Sunday morning I had to stop and count the number of times Joyce and I made love in the ensuing forty hours. Looking back, oh, how I miss the stamina of youth!

Sunday night I was in my own bedroom for the first time in days. Around 10:00 the phone rang. It was Joyce, checking to see how I was doing. She said she missed me and would be dreaming about us that night in her big empty bed. It was a reassuring call. While Joyce and I had that big house to ourselves it seemed the outside world ceased to exist. Inevitably, reality must intrude once again. Stephanie would be home. Our secret must be kept.

We discussed our housework schedule for the week. Joyce said it was going to be hard to keep her hands off me when Stephanie was around but we had to be careful. I suspected Stephanie might enjoy finding out about us and would tease us mercilessly. Then we talked about weightier matters.

"I hope you don't mind, Nick, if I tell you that I love you dearly."

"No, not at all," I replied. "I love you, too."

"I'm glad to hear you say it. I'm not sure if it's the same as being in love, but my god what a wonderful sexy weekend it was. You are such a man now!"

I laughed a little at that.

"That's 'cause you made me one."

"Well, believe me, it was my pleasure."

We said good night and I rolled over to go to sleep.

Joyce had such a healthy approach to sex that it really opened my eyes to how a well-adjusted adult should act. She was understated, but within the intimacy of our relationship she was very open, without being raunchy. I never heard her swear and she didn't talk dirty. She was every inch a classy lady. Her zest for sex was great and I enjoyed being the beneficiary of that zest.

For the rest of the summer we carried on much as we had that first long and wonderful weekend. We continued to be careful and while we didn't make love as often as we had at first, just being around Joyce in the yard or at lunch was great. She had a way of making me feel like I was the only guy in the world. Which is not to say we didn't do a few risque things.

When Stephanie and Danny spent the long Fourth of July weekend up at the lake, Joyce and I were together. After we spent a blissful Saturday evening making love, we fell asleep together, our limbs intertwined. At some point while I was asleep Joyce must have gotten up. Around midnight I slowly regained consciousness when I sensed Joyce standing next to the bed wearing her soft silk robe.

"Would you like to be naughty, baby?" she whispered.

It was a rhetorical question, of course, since by then I was up for anything Joyce wanted. I asked if I should get dressed and she said no, but that we would have to be very quiet. She led me downstairs and out to the pool. Darkness enveloped everything and there were no lights coming from the house next door. The sky was clear and starry, but there was no moon. All was still save for the sound of nocturnal insects and the pump in the pool shed.

Joyce dropped her robe. She beckoned me to follow her into the water and we quietly moved around, savoring the feel of the water on our naked bodies. We met in the middle where the water was about five feet deep; too deep for Joyce to comfortably stand, but fine for me. She swam noiselessly up to me and I gathered her in my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I was hard again as we kissed passionately.

Although Joyce's backyard has a nice privacy fence, it's possible to see into it from the second floor windows of the house next door. Fortunately for us, the elderly couple that lived there slept in a bedroom on the far side. So as dangerous as it might seem for us to be in the pool naked together, it wasn't that big of a risk; just enough to add to our illicit excitement.

Joyce broke away and gracefully moved toward the corner of the pool where the underwater steps and hand railing were located. She quietly beckoned me to follow with a come hither smile and a playful crook of her finger. Directing me to sit on the lower step, she sat beside me on the step above. Putting one arm around me, she reached under water with the other and began to stroke my cock while I alternately sucked on her nipples. Joyce cooed softly in my ear.

"That's a good sexy boy. Yes, indeed. I'm so proud of you!"

She knew how much I liked her whispered endearments and I soon erupted. We couldn't see it, but my load hung suspended in the water until it started to float away. Joyce kissed me deeply and then I said it was her turn.

I told her to lean against the pool wall and place her hands above her on the deck to steady herself. She smiled, eager to comply but not knowing precisely what I had in mind. Then I let the rest of her body float gently to the surface while I draped her tan legs over each shoulder. Then I worked my way toward her pussy and planted my mouth there, alternately worming my tongue inside and flicking her clit.

She gasped, perhaps a little too loud.

"Where did you learn this, young man?"

I broke away for a moment to whisper, "I have a vivid imagination!"

Joyce relaxed a little and let me take over.

"I'll say!"

Soon her body trembled, causing waves to flow outward from us. Joyce couldn't cry out as she might if we were upstairs in bed, but her soft whimpering was all the positive reinforcement I needed.

"Oh!" she gasped. "I'm coming!"

Her entire body shook violently and her wetness increased considerably. I could feel her thighs start to squeeze my head. One leg involuntarily made a loud splash in the water. As she came down on the other side of her climax she at once released her legs and let go of the deck, falling all the way into the water, completely submerged. Given her condition, it seemed wise to help her up. When she reemerged her smile said it all. She grabbed me around the neck and once again wrapped her legs around my waist, kissing me as aftershocks continued to rumble through her.

"Oh my God! That was unbelievable! Oh my God!"

Once again, the emotional power of Joyce's orgasm was amazing. What was even more amazing is that I was able to cause it.

I moved us into deeper water while Joyce continued to whimper softly. We spent several minutes like that before Joyce finally came to her senses and we got out. We stepped into the screened porch and dried each other off, reasonably confident that no one had observed our midnight swim.

Joyce was still weak enough that I had to help her upstairs. She looked sexy wrapped in a plush white towel, showing ample amounts of her shapely thighs. Once back in her room, I gave her my towel and she wrapped it around her wet hair. By then I was dry, though my hair was still a little damp. I laid down on the bed, naked, while she went into the bathroom to dry her hair. By the time she returned I was nearly out. I do recall feeling her hand run across my chest as she leaned down to kiss me.

"Good night, darling," she said with her soft, sexy voice. "I love you."

Once more we happily drifted into unconsciousness.

One of the many things Joyce taught me was a profound appreciation of Jazz. She was a real aficionado and had a great collection of the masters like Duke, Count Basie, and John Coltrane. There's a particular cover of "In a Sentimental Mood" done by Ellington and Coltrane that always reminds me of Joyce.

In late July, Barbara and her husband invited Joyce to join them for a big midsummer dance at the club. Barbara fixed Joyce up with a handsome beard, who made a modest living escorting divorced and widowed ladies to social functions when otherwise the women would have to stay home. A pang of envy passed through me, but Joyce assured me that she wanted me to already be at her house before she arrived home.

The dance ran late and I was dozing on the living room couch when my semi-conscious mind registered the soft tinkling of the piano strokes at the opening of In a Sentimental Mood. Joyce had put the record on the turntable.

Nudging me, she said, "Dance with me, lover."

For a moment I couldn't be quite sure I was awake. She looked beautiful in her evening gown and pearl necklace, her blond hair swept up, framing her tan face. The room was bathed in soft light and she held out her bare arms in invitation. I rose and embraced her as we fell a slow step, the music moving us as if by magic.

She was taller in heels, and the feel of her breasts pressing into my chest and her thighs rubbing against mine excited me; Joyce knew quite well the effect her body had on me. We danced there for the entirety of the song and as the notes faded slowly away, she pressed her lips to mine, then said, "Make love to me. Right here, right now."

Stepping slightly back, she pulled on the straps of gown and it fell in a heap at her feet. She was naked underneath. I knelt down in front of her and worked my tongue between her legs, reaching up with one hand to knead a soft breast.

"Yes," she said softly. "Oh, yes."

She trembled from the pleasure my tongue gave her, and then she pulled me back up to the standing position.

"I can't wait a second longer," she said, breathlessly.

She pulled me over to the couch and knelt on it, facing the wall, resting her arms on the back beneath a painting of a pastoral scene from the previous century. I knew what to do and got behind her, where she guided my cock slowly inside. It was beautiful and Joyce moaned with a carnal satisfaction.

"Yes," she said again. "Just like that. Take me."

Joyce showed me the deepest trust and intimacies that a man (or boy in my case) could experience. She opened herself up to me, trusting me to keep our secret. If it got out, the shame and embarrassment would land entirely on her, a possibility neither of us would consider in our zeal to be discreet. The almost primal physical attraction between us had at its core a strong, abiding emotional connection that transcended anything I'd ever experienced, and wouldn't again till I got married years later.

There and then, on that couch, as I made vigorous love to Joyce, the outside world ceased to exist, as it always did when we joined together. Only later did it occur to me that I was only her second lover.

Like so many young ladies of her generation, she saved herself for marriage, but the mores governing sexual behavior had undergone revolutionary changes in the quarter century since Joyce had gone to the altar and she broadened her own horizons to some extent. She was too much the lady to sleep around, but with an intense mutual attraction like ours, despite the vast difference in our ages, she foresaw ample joy in the consummation, and I of course was thrilled to marrow.

That August I left for college, sorry to part from Joyce and all the happiness we'd known that summer.

One interesting aside to this period was the attention I started receiving from some of the girls I knew from school. I was getting noticed where before I had been invisible. Was it the result of some change that I had undergone from my relationship with Joyce? Or just a realization on the part of some girls that a guy like me was worth a second look? Perhaps a little of both?

Joyce encouraged me to go on dates, if only for the sake of appearances, and I did a few times, but none of them led to anything serious. I was aware of being more relaxed around girls my age. I didn't have to try so hard because I knew I could please a woman. Joyce gave me the confidence that every guy wishes he had at that age.

While visiting at Christmas break, Joyce spread a blanket in front of the cozy fire in the living room and we made love there on the floor. The play of the flickering firelight on our bodies added to our excitement. Afterward we dozed in the warm glow, Joyce's hand finding its familiar resting place on my softening cock.

I remember how comfortable it was to lay in bed with her and watch the snow fall outside the window. The warmth of our bodies and the cozy bedclothes were all we needed as winter prevailed outside.

Happily, the following summer was not very different from that magical summer of '77. I had finished my freshman year of college, and I returned to the the familiar and comfortable routine of life-guarding at the club, working around Joyce's house, enjoying her wonderful cooking, joking with Stephanie and, oh yes, getting naked with Joyce. The only difference was my virginity was a distant memory.

Postlude

In the autumn of 2010, I received a call from out of the blue. It was Stephanie, with whom I hadn't spoken in nearly 25 years. She called to let me know that her mother had died the previous month at the age of 78. I was deeply saddened.

Joyce and I had remained close through my college years, though the frequency of our intimate encounters slowly dwindled until our relationship evolved into something new. When I went to live in Germany for several years at the behest of my company, we unfortunately lost touch altogether and I always regretted it.

Stephanie told me that Joyce met a nice older gentleman in the late 1990s and they married, living contentedly together until his death in 2007. I was very pleased to hear that. Joyce deserved all the happiness in the world.

I appreciated the lengths Stephanie went to track me down and give me the sad news. I offered my sincerest condolences and we spent some time getting caught up. She didn't have a lot of time just then, so she asked if she could call me the following week to talk some more. I couldn't imagine what else she wanted to cover since I had been out of touch for so long at that point, but I agreed.

Over the many years since Joyce and I stopped sleeping together, I never forgot her. I am happily married with two grown children, and my wife and I have, even after decades of marriage, a healthy and joyful sex life. While that is due in no small measure to the love we share, I like to think part is due to the wonderful guidance and nurturing Joyce provided, teaching me how to please a woman and join with her both physically and emotionally.

What Joyce and I shared so happily might in today's hypersensitive world be called exploitation or even abuse. It was no such thing. Joyce made me feel happy, contented, and desirable when no girls my age gave me a second thought. I couldn't believe my luck, and still can't. She provided me with an idyllic coming-of-age.

As I've thought about it over the years, I've wondered about the roles we played in each other's lives. I've mentioned the way she referred to herself as "mama," and there may have been some hidden pathos that had to do with her not having a son and me not having a mother. Anything's possible, I suppose, but whatever it was seems harmless. It's something we shared as naturally as everything else we had together.