My name is Tara O'Brian and I am 100% pure-blooded Irish. Well, at least on Saint Patrick's Day I am. I started to tint my hair red many years ago and never turned back. Just between us, I am not really Irish at all even though I have freckles and my faux red hair. My real name before I shit-canned it was Magda Kaminski and my family came from a small village in the eastern part of Poland. I was always a bit on the chubby side when I was a youngster and the boys would ceaselessly make fun of my big chest and huge round behind.
When we immigrated to the United States, I was only 16 years old and still had that layer of baby fat that made me pretty much boring to male interest. I speak American English now with a phony hint of an Irish brogue that hints I actually emigrated from the Emerald Isle. My parents live in the great State of California and strangely speak Spanish better than their English because they need to talk to the people in their business more than to the stuck-up people downtown. I learned English mostly in school but also took special tutoring lessons from a retired Professor at the University. He was the one who also got me the job at the Intel facility not far from our house.
Because I had gone to a California High School and did well on the testing, I was able to get into a State University even though I had no idea what to study. I really had no interest in studying anything but the Professor and my parents insisted I do it to prove I was going to be a big success in America.
Right about my 19th birthday, my baby fat started to melt away as my metabolism kicked into high gear and I started to engage in my favorite sport of running. When you are like 40 pounds overweight, running is not something one does for fun. Now that I was a lot lighter, I went at it with a vengeance and was running in almost every event in the area. I kept going down in sizes so fast that I just gave up trying to get new clothes and wore my baggy old things.
The very first time boys started to notice me was when I was in an event and running with just my sports bra and my running shorts. My boobs were sort of out of place because they had to be bound up with a stretch band to keep them from swinging or jiggling when I ran. I was so happy that my bottom was finally so small that I felt I was on afterburners when I ran to the finish line.
My very first date with a boy was in my second year at the university. I was still working at Intel because they were funding some of my expenses in school and I was working on a project to make the equipment even smaller.
The date was a complete disaster.
I had even brought two "rough rider" condoms in my purse to inspire me to some type of orgasm like I had read about in Cosmopolitan magazine. I was not really quite sure what that would entail but according to the reports from several other readers, it was something that I certainly did not want to deprive myself of.
My first boyfriend was called Manny which was short for Manuel. He worked for my parents and had been cleared by them for date material. I am certain that was for attitude and not the size of his dick. Not that I am complaining because he was quite satisfactory in that department.
We went to a movie at one of the last remaining drive-ins in the valley and it was packed to the max on Saturday night. The speaker was having a problem because it seemed to buzz on the high pitched sound effects in the movie. It didn't bother me at all because I wasn't interested in watching the movie at all. It was all about some girl who was raised on a riverboat and goes to live with her grandfather on the river. I knew Manny was not concerned at all because his English was not too good anyway.
About halfway through the main feature, Manny progressed to opening up his flies and out popped this huge tool that made my heart beat a lot faster. I was beginning to have doubts that this thing would ever be able to fit inside my recently reduced snatch. The fact that I had never actually opened up my female parts for business might also be a problem. Thank goodness, Manny was oblivious to such concerns because he was knocking on my front door just a few moments later. I had to slow him down to get the "rough rider" on his tool before he crossed the threshold. He was shaking his head in disbelief and I honestly thought he had never encountered one before that night.
Poor Manny worked diligently sawing away for the next two scenes and then I felt him stiffen up just like a board and he started saying real dirty words in Spanish which I am ashamed to say I understood each and every one. Then the "rough rider" ballooned up inside me and I knew he had taken care of business because his face was all contorted and he kept thanking me for taking his load.
I was really disappointed because I had not gotten one of the "orgasms" I had read about and I started to wonder if it was all bullshit and some trick just to get us girls to spread our legs so boys could enjoy themselves.
.... There is more of this story ...