Chapter 1: Maria Teresa

My eyes were closed as I daydreamed about how the next 24 hours would change my life. It was a Tuesday and I already knew that I would be cutting school the following day. Truth be told, I was nervous, yet I giggled to myself as I imagined that excuse note that Mama might send to my home room teacher. Alas, it was a letter that she would never write.

Dear Sister Catherine, Please excuse my daughter, Maria Teresa Rodriguez, for being absent from school yesterday, Wednesday. On Tuesday evening, I allowed my dear lover, my Bobby to break Maria Teresa's maidenhead, what you young folks call a cherry, and make her into a woman. I know from more than ten years of living with Bobby, yes, living in sin if you must call it that, that he is a very tender lover and will give her great pleasure in sexual contact. In fact, I had no doubt that the two of them would enjoy it so much that it would continue all Tuesday night and through the day Wednesday.

Maria Teresa promised me that she would not allow Bobby to fuck her, excuse my language, in the ass. I believe that you are already aware that I spent a number of years walking the streets of Seattle and am fully familiar with the discomfort and pain of having a hard erect penis inside that tiny opening, and I made sure that she understood. Nevertheless, I ask you to please keep an eye on her in class and let me know if she is doing too much squirming in her seat. That will tell me that she broke her promise and I will deal with her fib accordingly.

I told my Bobby that he could have only one night with Maria Teresa. Yet knowing him as a lover, I'm sure that my daughter will want many more orgasms from him. If so, I would only consent to it as a threesome, but as of now I'm not sure. If I do agree, you may rest assured that we will only perform our little ménage on weekends or school holidays, so that Maria Teresa will not miss any more classroom time. Thank you. Vaya con dios, Luz Rodriguez.

I wondered if I should write that note, sign Mama's name and give it to Sister Catherine. But if I did, I could only give it to her in one of the rooms that has a defibrillator, because she sure as shit would have a heart attack.

Bobby was hot off the golf course and sweaty as hell when he got back to the house. Mama had me sitting in the living room, watching one of the porn tapes that the two of them sometimes watched while he recuperated after his first orgasm. My hand was under my teddy, my fingers inside me. Damn, I was horny as hell; I'd never seen two women eat each other, which was the current scene on the video. Someday...

Bobby too was horny; had been at least since I had overheard Mama tell him that she would cut off his balls if he ever so much as touched me before I hit sixteen, and I had passed that milestone a while back.

Mama had explained to me how Bobby would be as my first sex partner. "When I was working the street corners downtown," she said, "he was like every other john: a quick orgasm and then a remark about seeing me again sometime. But when I moved in here as the housekeeper, and then into his bed when the frigid bitch left him, he's become a very gentlemanly lover. He'll never cum until he makes you cum first, even if it means going down on you before anything. Don't be afraid of him. He doesn't bite. But he will nibble," she added with a smile.

Mama and Bobby of course shared the master bed room, but that day she was upstairs in her private room, in the maids quarters, determined to stay out of sight. She was afraid that Bobby would try for a threesome and she was determined to leave him to me alone that night.

"I think I need a shower, Maria. Would you care to join me?" He reached out one hand to help me up, but his eyes were focused on my cunt hair.

And so began my wonderful Rite of Passage from girl to woman.

He walked me to the stairs. Then he lifted me, as a bride across a threshold, one hand under my knees, the other holding my ass cheeks. Both my hands went around his shoulders, causing me to feel just like that bride. His musk, his masculine aroma, a golfer needing a shower after a hot day's round of eighteen championship holes, wafted gently to my nose. My pussy had been wet as my eyes absorbed the porn video. Now it gushed, and he gave a faint smile as the wetness reached his hand.

He carried me straight through his bedroom into the en suite, which was larger than my own bedroom. Silently he placed me on my feet and immediately began to strip off his clothing. But as I started to copy his action, my fingers starting to lift my teddy, he stopped me.

"Let me do that please."

I stood there obediently, watching as he showed me his magnificent body, staring as each piece of his clothing came off. Shoes, socks, a shirt with an alligator sewn on it, a sweaty wife-beater undershirt, his belt, a gaudy leather belt, neon green slacks. Each piece flew into the corner of the room, away from the shower, to pile up near one of his vanities. He was left with a pair of jockey shorts which had no fly. If he wanted to pee, he would have to pull his cock out from his waist band or down his leg.

That's when he paused, turning around to let me view his body, a side angle showing his obvious erection under his shorts. He was preening, a showoff trying to tease me, not realizing or maybe not even caring that I had one or two – all right, I must admit, maybe a few more - hand jobs of experience.

He beckoned and I moved close to him. His hands touched my teddy and he slowly began to remove it, even slower than slowly, inch by inch. Only his eyes touched me, resting first on my cunt hair and then on my nipples as they were exposed, standing out proudly from my breasts. Of course, I thought; I know that men and boys like my tits. The garment went over my head to mingle in the corner with his clothing.

At that point, his fingers went to his waist band as he began to remove the jockeys. That's when I decided to take over and I stopped him as he had stopped me from removing my single garment. My hands reached into his shorts and I took his cock in hand. It was clearly larger than any of the teenage cocks that I had known, that I had brought to climax, that had spurted their seed onto my hand or wrist.

With those boys I had cleaned my hand with my tongue. I had liked the taste and shyly swallowed the cum before kissing the boy who had delivered it to me. I wondered if I had been lying to Mama when I had told her that I had only gone as far as a hand job. I concluded that I had been telling the truth but deliberately withheld the fact that I had eaten cum. After all, the cocks had never been inside my mouth. Anyway, Mama probably would not have cared, what with the things she had found necessary to do to raise me, the indignities on her body that she'd had to allow. Let's just say that she had 'relied on the kindness of strangers'.

But for sure I knew as I held Bobby's meat that at some time before I slept it would be inside my mouth – as well as my even more important and soaking wet vaginal tunnel.

I pulled his shorts down. He lifted each leg in turn to allow me to get them off and add them to the pile in the corner. Seven or eight inches and fatter than any I had ever held. Could it fit in me? Mama had assured me that a cunt, a word she used casually, can dilate enough for damn near any man.

I bent to kiss his purple crown as my hand caressed his hairy balls. He sighed gently before pulling away from me and entering the shower alone. A quick rinse of his perspiration from faucets on three sides and then he held his hand out to aid me into the pulsating water.

The door opened with a click and I quickly stepped under the warm cascading water. My hair was soaked instantly, but neither of us particularly cared. He handed me a soapy washcloth and turned his back to me. My hand began to soap up the back of his neck and it occurred to me that if he had lusted after me for so long, he seemed very calm in his foreplay. His arms stretched out, the rippling muscles explaining why he had such a powerful tee shot. I washed them and moved down his back.

At his waist, I decided to stay in back and used my hands to press his legs apart. He complied, and I swabbed his firm ass cheeks. The cloth went into his crack and I suddenly removed it, fearful that I might give him ideas about ass fucking, yet knowing if that's what he wanted, he wouldn't need encouragement. None of my friends had ever had a good word for taking it that way. Nor had Mama.

While I was in the neighborhood though, I decided to reach between his spread legs and wash his balls. I really had no experience with balls. The boys whom I'd jerked off had taken off pants and shorts. Though I'd seen balls with the aid of street lights shining into back seats, the boys were only interested in my work on their cocks. I soaped the sac, feeling Bobby's little guys running away from the innocent touch of my fingers.

"Lick it," he said quietly.

Son of a bitch! He had been thinking about his ass – or was it mine? Even as I had washed his nuts, my visit to his crack had stayed in his mind. And now he wanted my tongue there. I pushed him into a position where the water from the shower would rinse the soap from his ass crack. And then the incongruity of the situation hit me. I had taken the trouble to rinse his ass so that the taste of soap wouldn't bother me and then I was about to stick my tongue where it didn't usually go with absolutely no idea what taste it would receive.

"No thank you," I answered, equally quietly. No fucking way would I do that for any man. There was no anger in my voice to signal my reaction to the effrontery of his request. Neither was there any fear about the possibility that he might force something on me during the night, or alternatively that he would abandon me, not accepting the gift of my maidenhead that I was anxious to deliver. That last was the deciding element, for I knew that I could easily get someone my own age to very willingly pop my cherry.

And still quietly, he turned around so that I could continue the shower, moving my hand down so that it could wash the key male component of this adventure. His cock was hard, of course, standing at attention, a military man ready to carry out the orders of his commanding officer. I soaped it gently, lovingly, that ubiquitous piece of flesh that would soon transport me across the Rubicon, making sure that I did not, not yet, stimulate it to ejaculation in an instant like one of the high school boys for whom I had performed that little chore.

He responded cooperatively when he felt me twisting his hips so that the faucet would rinse his member. Then I slid to the hard tile floor and took his tool, eight inches of handsome masculinity, into my mouth. My brain was waiting for me to have a reaction. Some of my friends had described the feel of cock stretching mouth as exquisite, erotic, drawing their fingers to their own pussies. Others, warned perhaps by older sisters or mothers, described the cock as distasteful, its ejaculate as unpleasant. As for myself, it was just one step along the road to the surrender of my virginity, neither exciting nor offensive. He wants, I supply.

But he didn't want. Not yet, anyway. His hands reached under my arms and he lifted me to my feet. Turning me around, my back to his front, he took the soapy washcloth from my hand. His mouth descended to the back of my neck, little kisses nibbling across from shoulder to shoulder. Meanwhile, his hands were caressing my breasts, tweaking my nipples.

"Did you forget the washcloth?" I asked, innocently.

His laughter was his answer. He turned me around again, to face him, and his lips descended to my nipples. I had once allowed a boy to do that, preparatory to my beginning to masturbate him, and it had felt very exciting. It had made me feel grown up, mature, a mother feeding a baby. For a brief second, I had considered allowing that boy to go farther, to go between my legs. Never giving a thought to whether that meant with his fingers or his cock – nor his tongue – a cooler head (mine) prevailed. What was left of my purity remained.

But with Bobby, my mama's john who became her lover, there was no doubt that being between my legs was precisely what I expected, the real reason that we were naked together.

As if reading my mind, his hand snaked down between us. When it reached my pubic hair, he used a finger to begin to twirl it, or curl it if you prefer that word. Not for long. Soon his finger rubbed up and down my slit, touching my clitoris, spreading my lips though not penetrating.

Fuck me Bobby, fuck me! To this day I couldn't tell you if I had uttered those words aloud or just thought them silently. Similarly, I couldn't tell if he had heard me or simply read my mind. Either way, he turned around and shut off the water. He reached out and brought in a two very fluffy bathrobes, embossed with his initials. We put them on, figuring that they would absorb most of the wetness on our bodies without the bother of towels. He did bring in two of those, which we used for our wet heads.

We walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, but then I broke free and ran to undo the king sized bed. I flopped down onto it, arms and legs spread, but still covered by the robe. He stood, staring at my face and then my covered body. Loose as it was, his robe still managed to show evidence of his hard erection. I tried to read his face, his eyes.

No, it wasn't love that I saw. I thought that's what he felt for my Mama, but how could anyone ever be sure of that? Nor was it lust, that evil leer of the cartoon man with the black mustache. And then I knew, and it made me feel wonderful.

His expression was one of caring, of affection. He had known me most of my life, and had helped Mama raise me. His only kisses had been as a senior family member, kisses on the cheek and such. He had never touched me carnally, albeit with a stern threat from Mama if he had done so. And here he now was, entrusted by his lover with the sacred – strike that, sacred is such bullshit – with the important duty of taking my maidenhead, my virginity, my cherry, and making me a woman.

Many of my sisters under the skin have argued that I became a woman the first time that I menstruated, became able to conceive a child. I on the other hand had always believed, and I don't know why, that I would not become a woman until I lost my cherry. And I'm not talking about losing it to a cucumber or hair brush, or even to my own anxious fingers; I'm talking about giving myself away to a real live cock, entering me, spreading me, thrusting and exploding inside me.

He opened my robe. I lifted my knees and spread them apart, an invitation to be fucked. His cock poked its head out, an RSVP that it would be happy to do so. His hands raised my shoulders so that I could slip the robe off my arms, and then lifted my ass so that he could toss the entire garment off the bed. He dropped his own robe where he stood and then lay on the bed next to me, facing me. He pulled a thin blanket over us.

My heart was beating with excitement, with the desire to feel this man inside me, and yet I felt mellow, so comfortable to be under the covers with someone whom I knew cared for me as a person. No doubt he wanted to penetrate me, to stroke me, to spurt his pearly fluids deep inside my body. He stretched out an arm and I rolled into it, snuggled in his warmth. My eyes closed, as if we had already made love, as if it was time for that post-orgasmic rest. But I was still wide awake. The fresh aroma of his newly showered body teased my nose. His warm breath tickled my shoulder as his hand slid up and down my backbone, holding my body against his but making no effort to pull me toward his hard member.

He turned his face toward me and then it happened. His lips touched mine, softly, our first ever non-chaste kiss. No different from the kisses of boys who had hoped for my fingers to masturbate them, and even more, yet this kiss tasted of patience, an unhurried first step – oh, I guess the shower had really been the first step – toward pleasing both of us sexually.