When I gave my old PC to my next door neighbor, I did not intend to give him my virginity. After all, he had been a friend of my parents longer than I had been alive. He was older than my father. Also, I had been going steady with my high school sweetheart for two years. I had intended to save my virginity for him, and our wedding night. However, we had a quarrel that angered me so much that I neglected my intentions. By the time I became aware of my neighbor's intentions, I was too excited to resist. I had thought the presence of his wife would keep me safe. Surprisingly, she approved of his efforts, offering him encouragement and advice.
But I am getting ahead of my story. Last Christmas my parents gave me a new PC. My mother suggested that I give my old PC to our next door neighbors, the Henderson's, and teach them how to use it. The idea of being able to help Mr. Henderson learn anything really appealed to me. He is so intelligent and sophisticated. He has retired recently after a distinguished career as an economist for a national bank. The Henderson home is full of books, which give indication of having been read at least once. The Henderson's have often helped me with school projects.
However, I was surprised that the Henderson's did not even know how to type. Mr. Henderson was embarrassed to admit that. "I always had a secretary," he explained. Also, computer technology was an entirely new world to them. I had to keep going over the most basic concepts. I had been unaware of how much of my knowledge was non-verbal. I liked to teach them by telling them what to do, rather than showing them. I encouraged them to take notes, and to do everything step by step. Unfortunately, I often neglected to explain important steps, because I had worked with PCs and Microsoft for several years, and much of my knowledge had become intuitive.
Because I had no idea how to teach them typing, I suggested they take typing lessons at the local community college. I did not even try to explain to them how to get hooked up to the internet. I simply told them what to get from the phone company, and I installed internet access for them. Then I began to show them how much fun the internet could be. I googled Mr. Henderson's name, and got well over a hundred web sites detailing his career and accomplishments. I was really proud of him. He was even more important than I had been aware of. Mr. Henderson was also surprised, and learned about the usually complimentary opinions people he was hardly aware of had about him. Nevertheless, because neither of them could type, they had to use the hunt and peck method. This was time consuming.
I gave them a lesson nearly every week. I looked forward to it. My parents had moved into our home before I was born. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson had lived in their home before my parents moved in. My earliest childhood memories were often connected with them. I always loved to visit them. I have to admit it was somewhat frustrating teaching them, though. With every lesson it seemed that we had to start all over again with the first step. I gained an enhanced appreciation of the difficulty some of my teachers may have had with me over the years. Still, I was patient, and they were determined to learn.
After several months of this, when they still did not seem to be learning very much, my boy friend, and I had a serious quarrel. We had argued before, but this time I was really hurt and angry. I wondered how we could get together again after what we had said to each other. When I went to the Henderson home the next time for their lesson, they could tell that I was upset. Mrs. Henderson asked, "Is something troubling you, Dear?"
"Not really," I lied, "It's just that Jeff and I had a fight. He can be so mean sometimes."
"I can't understand why any boy would be mean to you," Mr. Henderson said. "If you want, you can tell us about it. You are like a daughter to us. We have known you all of your life, and watched you grow up to become a beautiful young woman."
That was all I needed. I began to tell the details of our quarrel, and it was not long before I began to cry. "Sit on Ralph's lap," Mrs. Henderson said. "That will make you feel better."
I had not sat on Mr. Henderson's lap since I was a little girl, but when his wife invited me to, it seemed all right, so I did. "The last time I sat on your lap I was six years old," I told him, "and I had been stung by a bee. I was crying then, too."
"I certainly remember that," Mr. Henderson said. "Whatever hurts you hurts me even more."
"You're such a sweet man," I said hugging him, and kissing him on the cheek. He responded by kissing me on the lips. I had certainly not expected that, but I kind of liked it. I was even surprised to feel a tingling in my vagina. "You mustn't do that in front of your wife," I said, giggling.
"Well, Edith, what do you have to say about it?" Mr. Henderson asked.
"It stopped her from crying, Ralph. Kiss her again." He did.
"I think we had better start our computer lesson," I said.
"There'll be time for that," Mrs. Henderson said. "I can tell you're enjoying this. I know Ralph is. I'm enjoying it too."
I was enjoying it, particularly after the pain and anger I felt from my quarrel with Jeff. Mr. Henderson kept talking soothingly to me, as though I was a little girl again with a bee sting. I felt so safe and protected with him. As we talked he put his right hand inside of my dress, and held the outside of my left thigh. Because his wife was with us, this still felt innocent. It also felt unexpectedly good, and even a little bit sexy. Mr. Henderson was so mature and did not try to rush things like a boy my age would have. He knew exactly what I wanted, and how much. It was almost like he could read my mind.
The fact that he was an older man even made him seem more exciting. How many of my girl friends had ever made out — I had to admit that was what we were doing — with a man older than their fathers? Only, he was not just any man, but a man I had liked and respected as long as I could remember. As a matter of fact, I even had a crush on him before I met Jeff. Now the crush was coming back stronger than ever.
The Henderson's and I began having a nice "grownup" conversation. They were more interesting to talk to then kids my own age. It was as though they thought I was an adult. As we talked it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Mr. Henderson and I to kiss on the lips from time to time. I even started some of these kisses myself, although I did not put my tongue in his mouth, like I sometimes did with Jeff. Mr. Henderson would have thought I was fast if I did that.
Nevertheless, I became somewhat nervous again when Mr. Henderson put his right hand between my legs, and held the inside of my right thigh. I tried to sound calm. "Mr. Henderson, shouldn't we be starting our lesson?" Of course, I was aware that we were beginning another kind of lesson, one that I had to admit I was enjoying.
"I know, as only a wife can, how good that feels, Nancy," Mrs. Henderson said. "You mustn't resist." I tried not to, but when Mr. Henderson began to move his fingers closer to the crotch of my panties, I held his hand, and tried to pull it out of my dress. I did not try very hard. He ignored my effort. It sounds crazy, but I thought it would be rude to use more force. After my parents, Mr. Henderson and Mrs. Henderson were my favorite adults. I did not want to hurt Mr. Henderson's feelings. However, I was getting more nervous. I also did not want him to discover how excited I was. Of course he knew. When he reached my panties, he ran his fingers along my slit. Then he put his fingers inside of my panties, and discovered, what he must have known, how wet I was.
"Mr. Henderson, please! I don't even let Jeff touch me there."
"How delightful," Mr. Henderson said, "Then I'm the first." He kept moving his fingers inside of my sodden slit. "Yes, I am really the first. You are a virgin like you told Edith." Mrs. Henderson was someone I could always tell my secrets to, even secrets I did not tell my mother. "You are an honest girl, Nancy, and a virtuous one."
"I don't feel virtuous now," I said.
"You feel virtuous to me, and that makes you more desirable. You feel good, don't you?"
"I wish I didn't enjoy this so much, but I do."
"I'm glad you do enjoy it. Otherwise, you might make me stop." Mr. Henderson began to rub my clitoris slowly and gently as I would do when masturbating. When I masturbated I usually thought of Jeff, but sometimes I thought of Mr. Henderson. Now what I had fantasized while masturbating was actually happening. Only Mrs. Henderson was approving. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that.
"Mr. Henderson," I whispered, "this feels so good."
"Enjoy it, Dear," Mrs. Henderson said, soothingly. "You have my full permission." Mrs. Henderson walked around, so she could see my face.
As I could feel my orgasm coming Mr. Henderson began to rub my clitoris more rapidly, as I would have done. He did not need for me to tell him anything. He knew exactly what I wanted, and how to give me the most pleasure. After I had my orgasm, he knew to stop. He took his hand out from my dress, and held me gently with both hands, kissing me. "Mr. Henderson, that was wonderful," I whispered. "It was so much better than when I do that myself."
"Nancy, you looked so beautiful when you had your orgasm," Mrs. Henderson said. I wish I could have taken a photo of your face."
"Please don't get a camera."
"Of course I won't, Dear."
"You mustn't tell anyone about this," Mr. Henderson said.
.... There is more of this story ...