First Lesson

This story begins almost half a century ago, when I was sixteen. By today's standards we were almost Victorian in our purity and prudishness. That, at least, was how it was supposed to be. In fact, we were probably morally looser and more promiscuous than young people today but we were all hypocrites. Nice girls didn't do it. That was a given. And, if they were forced to, they didn't tell because everyone would think it was her fault, anyway. I can be thankful for that convention.

When it comes to sex, my judgment has never been good but, at sixteen, it was non-existent. My brain was between my legs. I'm lucky that I didn't spend time in jail, or at least a reformatory, for what I did that summer.

Barbara was a cute, little girl who was at least two years younger than I. Actually; she wasn't that little, just short. Her build was stocky and her bosom was becoming prominent, at least for a fourteen year old. She was also extremely shy and timid which certainly was a factor in what occurred.

My parents were away, gone to New York for a couple of weeks to visit my uncle, and they'd left me alone to take care of the house. I'd enjoyed the freedom but, after a few days, I spent most of my time trying to come up with a scheme to get a girl, any girl, in there alone with me. Barbara became, by chance, my opportunity.

It was a hot day in late August but thunderheads had been building up over the water all morning. I'd tried, earlier, to organize a ball game but my usual cronies either weren't available were to lazy to play so I'd given up in disgust and gone back to the empty house.

I was sitting in the shade on the verandah, reading. Soon the sun would dip low enough that it would be shining right at me and I'd lose the shade but it didn't look like the sun was going to last that long anyway. Great. I liked thunderstorms. The book I was reading was one I had borrowed from a classmate, Ginny and, as I read it, I wondered what she thought of it. It was a steamy, historical romance and its main fame was due to the sex scenes, which were not very explicit but rather shocking, at least by the standards in vogue at that time. Rapes, seductions and good, old-fashioned loose women were blended into a good storyline but, for me, it was the sex that occupied my attention.

When the clouds finally obscured the sun, I was a very horny sixteen year old who was about to go to bed in the empty house and have a session with the always available, five-fingered widow. Who was she going to be today? I sat there and deliberated as the sky darkened.

"Uh, Joe?"

I looked up, startled out of my erotic reverie. It was Barbara, a girl who lived down the road about half a mile away.

"Uh...Mom asked me to see if your mother left some stuff for her? It's about a meeting or something?"

"Yeah...yeah, I think she did." I knew then who my fantasy partner was going to be. Golly, I didn't realize she had grown so much. She couldn't be very old, I thought, as I looked at the way the short, stocky blonde filled out her blouse. Let's see, her brother Eddy is almost two years younger than I and she's younger than he? No. Eddy is fifteen so the most she can be is fourteen, isn't it? Not that it mattered. She was big enough in the right places. I tried to visualize what her tits looked like under her blouse.

As I was trying to calculate Barbara's age, I got up off the chaise, wondering if she'd seen the bulge in my shorts from reading the book. She stood there on the verandah, eyes shyly downcast and making no move to follow me into the house.

"C'mon in, Barbara. I'll look for it."

"Uh...OK...I'm sorry to bother you, Joseph," she said meekly as she followed me to the kitchen. I'm sure she had no idea of just how she was bothering me. I studied her stocky, shapely body and pretty face, trying to fix the images in my mind. My eyes undressed her easily because she wouldn't look up and therefore couldn't see how I was looking at her.

"Here it is." There was a folder dealing with some church stuff and, when I found it, I remembered I'd been supposed to deliver it myself. Barbara looked up at me then, her eyes darting about. Timid like a rabbit, I thought. My mind wasn't on the folder and, awkwardly, I dropped it, the papers scattering over the floor.

"Oh...oh, I'm sorry," she apologized although I was the one who had dropped the folder and then she was on her hands and knees, retrieving the papers. I could see down the front of her blouse now as the loose fabric fell away. God. She had nice tits for her age.

"My fault, Barbara. It's OK. I can pick it up." And then I too was on my hands and knees, trying to get a closer look under her blouse. No brassiere either, I could see. Her tit-mounds looked like white grapefruit and they sort of jiggled and bobbled as she crawled around retrieving the paers. I could see all of them except the tips and I was tempted to reach out and grab them. Just then there was a loud crash of thunder and she jumped with surprise.

"You're going to get wet. Guess you better wait a while," I said as the sky opened up with a heavy downpour. "Oh well, it likely won't last long."

"Uh...I got the stuff. I won't get too wet." She was on her feet now but I definitely didn't want her to leave.

"Hey, Barbara. I got something for Eddy. It's a baseball book he asked me for." My prick was throbbing as I looked at her full thighs under her short, summer skirt. "C'mon...it's upstairs."

Without a word, she followed me up to my bedroom, staying a good distance away from me. I knew I had lots of baseball stuff in the storage box in my room so I got down on the floor and opened the top of the wooden chest. What would she do if I grabbed her? I wanted to but I was scared that she'd tell. Eileen had asked for it and Beulah had been different, even though she'd acted reluctant. And I was pretty sure that Barbara's Dad hadn't been fooling around with her.

"Hold the top for me, Barbara."

"Uh...Uh, OK." She had to lean over me to hold up the lid and, as she did I felt the soft pressure of her breasts pushing against my back. I wanted to push back against them but didn't. I pulled a baseball magazine from the box and, as I stood up, Barbara jumped back, trying to avoid contact with me. She stumbled against the edge of the bed and, when it contacted the backs of her knees, she sprawled flat on her back, legs akimbo.

On my feet now, I turned and what I saw was too much for my already overheated libido. Her short skirt had flipped up around her hips, revealing the delicious swell of her thighs, her white panties so tight over the bulge of her pussy that they molded to the vertical slit. Under her loose-fitting blouse, her breasts swelled out, the flimsy material molding to her unbrassiered bust more erotically than if she'd been naked. With no thought of consequences, I was suddenly on top of her, my hand roughly pulling aside her panty leg to get at her bare pussy.

I'd felt Eileen's pussy, and Beulah's, but Barbara's had some kind of special feel. It seemed fatter and softer and, as my fingers clasped the puffy cuntal mound with its tight, pink slit, I knew I had to have her, willing or not. And then I realized that she had hair on it.

"NO! Joe! Let me up?" Barbara's protest started out to be loud and angry and then, as if my rudely probing hand subjugated her, it became timourous and pleading.

I was half on top of her, one leg over hers, pinning her to the bed so she couldn't move, not even to close her short, widely splayed legs. Her timid plea I easily ignored as I explored her smooth, fat vulva. It was incredibly soft; the folds of flesh yielding and pulpy as I found the narrow slit and pushed my fingers between. Barbara's was the third pussy I had fondled but, unlike Eileen's greasy, fresh-fucked twat and Beulah's which I'd fingered through her panties, this girl's doughy quim was not oiled with the juices of arousal.

"Please don't," Barbara whimpered as she tried to close her legs, her big, blue eyes flooding with tears. "Let me go...I gotta go home." But I was beyond having pity for the frightened, young girl. I pressed my thigh down harder on her legs, pinning them firmly and completely preventing her from closing them to protect her innocent sex. Probing the squishy, velvety slit, I finally felt the small bump above her vaginal orifice and began to titillate it.

"Nahhh...whannhh" she cried out when I touched her there, as if, somehow, she divined that the still unaroused, little erectile was the Achilles heel of her untainted virtue. Her lush, young hips squirmed under my lewd touch but, pinned as she was by my leg, her struggle was to no avail. Was it getting bigger? Yes! She was getting an erection in the same way that I did but, of course, not to any significant dimension.

I had my free arm across her chest, holding her shoulders down in the same way my leg immobilized her lower body. She clenched her eyelids close together as if to stop the flow of tears and she made tight fists of her hands. The succulent folds of her juvenile pussy seemed, somehow, bigger and even softer now, half surrounding my finger as I continued to rub her little clit-nubbin. It was a hard, easily detectable bump now and, suddenly, I felt the slippery wetness of her unwillingly aroused desire bathing my fingers.

"Naaahhhh...dohhhnn't" Barbara whined weakly and because her plea was so tremulous, I sensed that her objection was the prelude to capitulation so her plea only exacerbated her peril. "Doh...hoh...hoh...hohnnn't" she panted and she began to tremble against me, her soft, warm flesh moving against mine.

I used my free hand to push down my shorts and under shorts and I heard the sound of her panties tearing as my hand stretched them beyond the breaking point. Now that flimsy barrier did not limit my access and I was able to better fondle the satiny flesh of her swollen pussy.

"No...ho...noo...gotta go...hoh..." she gasped, breathing now as if she'd run a marathon. "Mom...hom's... heh...hexpecting me...ho... Ho... Hoh home," she pleaded, and her plaintively panting entreaty was almost blocked out by another loud crash of thunder. I said nothing. She could have no doubt about what was on my mind and I knew I wasn't going to get her to yield just by talking.

When I'd pushed off my shorts, I'd moved my leg from hers but she hadn't tried to close her legs. My bare, throbbing prick was pressed to the naked flesh of her thigh but I know she was not aware of it. But I was. She felt so warm, her skin soft and fluffy, like velvet.

"Hoohh...hoohhh...staww... stawwwwppp" Barbara gasped frantically as I felt the soft flesh of her cunt bulge and palpitate against my fingers. "Nawww...hawwwhhh...hawwww" she panted and suddenly her thighs closed on my wrist and her lush hips squirmed and wriggled against my hand. I'd made her cum! In spite of her fear and resistance, she was orgasming.

Clamped tightly between the firm, warm flesh of Barbara's thighs, my hand couldn't move. My finger was still on her clitoris and, as her panting subsided to a soft whimper, her legs suddenly opened and she pushed my hand away.

"Nahhh...don't...don't touch me," she whined and then, as if she had regained her sanity after losing it to the abandonment of climax, she struggled to rise. "Let me go...Hannh...gotta go home."

"No Barbara, not yet!" In my excitement my voice was harsh and, when I pushed her shoulders she, like an obedient child, fell back on the bed into a half-sitting position, her legs again tightly closed.

"I wanna go home," she whimpered, her pretty lips trembling as tears coursed down her cheeks. But, at no time had she threatened to tell on me. Sub-consciously this may have registered because Barbara's tears did not deter me from my lecherous course as, roughly, I pried her thighs apart while I pushed her down flat on the bed. Her fat, little pussy glistened wetly with the juices of her unwilled arousal and, holding her legs apart, I slid my hand up to that succulent, hair-haloed juncture.

"Doh...dohhhnn't...Haannhhh...not again." Her shoulders shook with heavy sobs but her thighs remained tensely separated as my fingers once more assaulted her pink, puffy cuntal slit.

When I'd first touched her sex-mound, there had been just a fine, dry crevice dividing it into two smooth, hairless halves but now, after Barbara's unwanted, forced stimulation by my fingers, the lips were parted, swollen and gaping slightly in reflexive response.

"Nahhh...Naaahhhh," the girl whined and her thighs strained inward as she attempted to close them, her rounded hips twisting away. Once again I pinned her small, stocky body to the bed, grasping both of her wrists with one hand and holding them down above her head while my legs was across her thighs which prevented her from closing them or twisting away from my probing fingers. Then, as she lay in helpless submission, I relentlessly resumed my lewd assault on her tender senses.

I suspect she'd been sensitized by the initial masturbation but, in any case, her sobs were soon ragged and indistinguishable from her heavy, gasping moans. I rubbed her little cum-trigger with increasing skill, finding the motion that seemed to evoke the most frightened noises of torment while I tried to get up courage to take advantage of her helplessness.

Barbara was no longer struggling. Cautiously, I lifted my thigh from her legs and she made no attempt to close them. Her pelvis, no longer immobilized, was motionless too, except for the tremors that shook her when I sometimes let my finger stray to the hot, finely corrugated portal of her swollen cunt.

My penis was throbbing against the warmth of her bare hip and the pain from my testicles had become unbearable. I placed one knee between hers and then, expecting at any moment that she would try to squirm out from under me, I wedged in my other knee, forcing her short legs farther apart. Her eyes were closed and her mouth gaped slightly, opening and closing like a fish out of water with her laboured, sobbing moans.

When I released her wrists, her arms remained above her head but separated and she lay there, naked from the waist down, unresisting. Her blouse, too, had become disarranged and was up around her neck so that her lovely tits were naked to my hot gaze. With one hand I guided my prick to the softness of her hot, swollen sex while I moved my other hand slightly higher to leave access to my objective.

Barbara opened her eyes and looked up at me dully when I pushed against her pussyflesh. The touch of my cocktip was no doubt hotter than my fingers and even in her aroused state it triggered an alarm. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to scream a protest but it was too late.

I pushed into her. It was different than with Eileen or Beulah. The narrow orifice didn't admit me in a smooth lunge. Instead I felt resistance, as if the diameter of my tool was greater than the diameter of the channel I was trying to enter. Of course, it was. But, like an elastic band, the fleshy ring yielded and engulfed me with its delightful, moist heat.

"NOOOO! NOOOO!" Barbara screamed, her cry of fright drowned out by a loud thunderclap and her body was galvanized into action as she tried to twist out from under me. I dropped down on her, my full weight crushing her firm, upthrust breasts and driving the air from her lungs in a hot rush. Luckily I remained collared in the tight opening, helped no doubt by that wonderful tightness. My hands gripped her hips and held her down as I pushed again.

I'd read about virginity and hymens and I'd heard guys brag about 'popping cherries' but, until that moment, I hadn't given it much thought. Now, when my ingress was suddenly blocked, and not just by the strangling clasp of her cuntmouth on my cock, I realized that Barbara was a virgin and that's why I was not able to enter.

"Cahhh...cahhhnnnn't" she cried but, whether it was fright or the hopelessness of her situation or some more fundamental surrender to being ravished, she went limp beneath me. I backed off a fraction and thrust again and this time, although there was a momentary resistance, I felt something give way and I plunged into her tight, juicy sheath.

"Hurrr...hurrrttttsss" Barbara squealed as I speared her unfledged sex and rammed at least five inches of my larger than average organ up into her. Bliss. Rapture. Heaven. It was better than I remembered, almost as if I was experiencing my own first time all over again.

Her face was buried in my chest and her hips retreated as I pushed deeper into her glorious tightness. And then my hips were meshed with hers and I could feel her warm body trembling against me. I withdrew, and then plunged back in and this time it was easier. Her face was wet with tears and she sobbed hot, little gusts of breath as I screwed her.

"Nahhh...Nahhh...Nahhh," she moaned but she remained prostrate docile beneath me, her smooth, wide pelvis yielding as she sank into the mattress with each firm thrust, her hips rebounding slightly as I pulled back. I struggled to delay my climax as I slipped my hand between our closely meshed bodies and found her clit.

"Doh...dohhhnn't," she whined, perhaps understanding my intent. "Let me up...let me goooo."

Between the squishy lips of her pussy I massaged the little bud, pausing as I fought to control myself. Her innocent senses had been assaulted already as never before and, as I fingered her clit, I felt the change. She was no longer limp but had, instead, become tense. I could feel her thighs quiver as I ground down into her velvet saddle and her sobs quickened to gasping moans.

"Hannh...nannh...hunhh," she panted, and the tone changed as I began to fuck her again. "Unh...Hannh...Unh...Hannh...Unh...Haahhnnhh?" sounded against my chest, a soft grunt when I pushed into her, then a questioning sigh on my withdrawal. Her thighs were now clasping mine from hip to knee as I screwed her.

The pressure built in my swollen testicles until it could not be restrained. Pulling my hand from between us, I ground against her as I felt the paralyzing explosion begin. I know I'd never gone off like this in Eileen or Beulah. The tightly surrounding softness of her passage was suddenly wetter and hotter as I pumped my semen into her quivering body.

"Whunnh? Hunhh?" Her sharp cries rent the air as I blasted my pent-up spermload into her. There was no doubt that she felt the jerking of my cock inside her tender, first-fucked cunt as I flooded her and it seemed to trigger her own orgasm. Briefly, her hips jerked and wriggled awkwardly, her sheath contracting delightfully as I emptied my adolescent lust into her. And then, once again, she collapsed under me, her legs loosely relaxing their warm grip on my thighs, her firm breasts heaving as she panted from her climax.

I lay heavily on Barbara's small, trembling frame, sated and lethargic in the aftermath of my pleasure until, with a soft whimper, she pushed on my chest. I rolled from her body and, as soon as my weight was removed, she sat up.

"Are you OK, Barbara?" I asked, solicitously, as she gingerly sat up and then stood.

"Goin' home. Mom'll wonder where I been," she mumbled as she bent down to pick up her torn panties from the floor where I'd thrown them. Then, ironically, she picked up the book I'd offered for her brother. She didn't look at me at all as she went down the stairs and out the door.

I'd followed her, uneasy now with guilt and, mainly, fear. Was she going to tell? I went back upstairs and my fear escalated when I saw the red, six-inch diameter stain on the bedspread where the cherry juice from her ruptured hymen had leaked onto it.

Nothing happened. I suffered through two weeks of worry that Barbara would tell her parents what I had done to her. The first day was worst and I resolved that I'd never take such a chance again. Even after that first day, I was still scared. Maybe they were waiting until my parents returned. That scared me even more because I knew it would devastate them. On the day that Barbara's mother called on mine. I was finally put at ease. She was friendly and obviously did not know that I'd plundered her daughter's virginity.

I saw Barbara a few times again that summer but she definitely avoided me and, on those occasions when she couldn't, she wouldn't look at me. It was almost twenty-five years later before I talked to her again. But that's another story.

Final Lesson

The minister droned on with his 'as it were's' and the other catch phrases pastors use to pad their sermons. My eyelids were getting heavy and, to avoid embarrassing my sister or myself by falling asleep in church, I began, surreptitiously, to survey the congregation.

Could that be Barbara? God, she didn't look much older than twenty years ago when I'd seduced her. (OK, so it wasn't a seduction.) Not much taller than when she was fourteen, either, as far as I could tell. She was wearing a white blouse and, from my viewing angle, it looked pretty full, as if those impressive, juvenile breasts had become two litre milk jugs. I caught her looking at me, too, out of the corner of her eye but she quickly averted her glance when she saw that I was looking at her. And she blushed. What was she thinking, I wondered. Did she hate me for what I'd done? The few times I'd seen her, afterwards, she'd always looked down, either shy or afraid, or both.

I'd come home, which was what I still called the place where I grew up, for a brief visit with my sister and duty required that I go to church on Sunday morning. I'd spent the last two evenings getting updated on the people I'd known twenty years ago and the people I'd known, particularly the girls I'd known in the biblical sense.

Barbara and Verna were the only ones who still lived there and Barbara was married now, I'd found out, with two kids. Today, though, she was alone in church. She'd be over thirty now, I mused, but she sure didn't look it. Her creamy complexion, especially when she blushed, made her look like a teenager.

Twice more during the remainder of the service, I caught her sneaking glances my way and, each time, her cheeks reddened as she'd quickly looked away. I wondered even more what she was thinking.

"Hello, Joseph. I haven't seen you in a long time." I was surprised when Barbara spoke to me as we stood in line to shake hands with the minister although I noted that her eyes didn't meet mine.

"Hi, Barbara. Yes, it's been a few years alright." Damn. She's pretty. But she's definitely no taller now than she was twenty years ago. "Where's Walter?" I asked, inquiring about the whereabouts of her husband.

"Don't tell anyone but he's playing hooky. He took the boys fishing. He'll be home tonight if you want to come up for coffee." She spoke hesitantly, almost timidly, and I remembered how fearful and timourous she'd been that day when I'd assaulted her. Was she still like that? Was she a submissive wife?

"I'd like that, Barbara." Even though she still wouldn't look me in the eye, I could see that she was blushing furiously and I wondered, suspected, that she was remembering the last time we'd talked. Had she told her husband? Not likely, I thought. Especially since she's inviting me to meet him.

"That's good. He'd heard you were home and he was hoping he'd get to see you." She finally raised her eyes to mine for just a moment. They were big and blue and, before she looked away, an almost guilty expression showed. I was the one who ought to look guilty, I mused. Strange?

At dusk I walked up the hill to where Walter and Barbara lived in an old farmhouse. He was an electrician but, like many in the village, he did a bit of farming on the side. His pickup truck was parked on the grass beside the driveway, a hand painted sign on the door announcing the name of the small contractor he worked for. Except for a light in the kitchen, the house was in darkness and I went to the kitchen door and knocked.

"Uh...oh, I forgot I'd asked you to come," Barbara stammered when, after almost a minute, she opened the door. "Uh, Walter isn't back yet." She made no move to step aside so I could enter.

"That's too bad. I was hoping to see him," I lied. "Will he be very late?" Damn. She was still a nice looking piece. Maybe a bit fat for her height but the fat was in the right places. "Can I come in and wait?"

"Uh...well? I? He may not get home until very late? I don't know?"

"Well, you'll let me stop to warm up for a few minutes, anyway, won't you, Barbara," and without waiting to be invited in, I pushed by her into the kitchen. "It's chilly out there and I didn't think to put on a sweater."

She peered out at the road before shutting the door and, when I sat in the wooden rocker, she sat down, primly in a straight chair as far away from me as possible. Definitely she was acting afraid of me.

"Where do you live now, Joseph?" Her voice sounded strained.

"I'm out West." God! What tits! She was wearing a sweater that must have been three sizes too small for her. Was it intentional? Was she showing me how she'd grown? On her short frame, her breasts looked disproportionately large. "Have you ever been there?"

"Uh, no. Eddy lives there but Walter doesn't like to travel. You're married, aren't you, Joseph?" Her eyes darted about, never looking directly at me. She was like a timid, frightened rabbit. Surely she didn't think I'd do anything like I had, before. Especially not here in her own home with her husband due home.

"Too bad. You'd find it interesting. Very different from here." What would she say if I asked her how she'd felt after I fucked her? Not that I would ask, but I'd have still liked to see the expression on her face if I did. "Does Eddy still like baseball?"

"Uh, y.yes. I guess so." Her face turned scarlet and I was sure she knew I was reminding her of the baseball book that had figured in her defloration. Just then the telephone rang and she went to the wall phone to answer it.

"Everything's OK, Walter... Yes. I went to church this morning... No, I didn't tell anyone where you and the kids were, dear... No, your boss didn't call. I'll tell him tomorrow that you're in bed, sick, just like you'd asked me to. All right. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Barbara hung up the phone and sat down again. "That was Walter. He's decided to spend another day fishing so you'd better go, now."

"Oh, that's too bad," I replied. But it hadn't sounded like he'd just made that decision. In fact, I knew now, for sure, that she hadn't expected her husband home at all. And she hadn't mentioned my presence either? "I guess you wanted to talk about old times, just you and me. You knew Walter would be away so it would just be the two of us."

"Uh...but? Like? N.n.no. I? I? I forgot they weren't coming home tonight. Walter really wanted to see you." Stammering and squirming, she was trying to convince me that she hadn't set up this little one-on-one scenario. But I knew better, even if she'd changed her mind, now.

"C'mon, Barbara. Don't lie to me. I'm thrilled that you wanted to see me. Really thrilled."

"B.but...I didn't? Not... the neighbours will see you... me?" Except there really weren't any neighbours to know.

"Nobody saw me coming here, Barbara, so they won't know. Unless you tell them? I guess you got over being mad at me?"

"Uh, I don't know what you mean, Joseph. Why'd I be mad at you?" She sat tensely, looking down at the floor, clearly not wanting to talk about that day.

"You mean you've forgotten?"

"What? Uh, yes? Uh, no? Oh Joseph, you have to go. It was a mistake." Barbara's voice was tight. Was it fear? Or something else? They say that a woman always remembers, maybe loves the guy who devirginates her. Does that apply if it's done by force? I doubt it, but I was certain that Barbara had invited me because she wanted me to fuck her again.

"You were a pretty, little girl then," I said softly as I rose from the rocker and walked over to where she was sitting. "And now you are a beautiful, little woman." I took her hands from where they were clasped together on her knees and pulled her to her feet. She tried to resist but grudgingly she stood, her head barely reaching my chest.

"No...please Joseph...please leave." Barbara's voice was faint and, for just a moment, she looked up at me. God, she was pretty! And the timid look in her big, blue eyes added to her appeal. I looked to my right, down the short hallway that led to what looked like a sitting room. In the light from the kitchen, the only light that was on, I could see that there was a carpet on the floor. That would be better than the cold lino of the kitchen, I thought, as I dragged the weakly resisting woman down the hall.

"I remember, Barbara. I remember very well. You remember too, don't you? You liked it, didn't you! You were a hot little piece, even as young as you were.""

"No...it was a long time ago...I'm married," she protested when I dropped to my knees on the carpet and pulled her down with me but she didn't really struggle. Not like the other time.