This is the first story in a series about the sexual adventures of Maggie. Each story is complete in itself, but taken together they are a sexual biography.
“I, Margaret Smith, pledge to God, myself, my future husband, and my family that I will remain sexually pure until I am united in holy matrimony.”
It was 1968 and seven girls and five boys took the pledge of chastity on a hot summer night in the basement of the First Baptist Church in the Kansas town of Smoky Hill. Maggie had just finished her junior year in Smoky Hill’s only high school.
Sue Parsons, her best friend, giggled and whispered in her ear. “Cross your fingers behind your back.”
“That signifies you don’t mean it.”
Maggie suppressed a giggle of her own with a hand over her mouth. The two friends were polar opposites. Sue was big, bold, brassy, and busty. Maggie was slender, mousy, and smart. She helped Sue with math and shone brighter in her large shadow. Maggie was serious about the pledge of chastity. Sue? What choice did she have? Her father was the pastor of the church.
“Shhh,” Maggie admonished her. They joined in reading the Bible with the young, handsome preacher with the shock of long, black, slicked-back hair, pomaded to a shine.
“It is God’s will,” they read, “that you should be sanctified; that you should avoid sexual immortality; that each of you controls your own body in holiness and honor.”
“Okay, finished,” whispered Sue. “It’s time for kool-aid and cookies.” Sue, in Maggie’s, pushed the boundaries of being a good Christian. Her father scratched his head in perplexity over Sue’s antics, but she was respectful in church on Sunday, always memorized the Bible verses assigned in Sunday school, and attended the Wednesday prayer meeting. That’s how Sue and Maggie became unlikely friends.
“The pledge is not a small thing,” Maggie admonished Sue. “We don’t want to end up like Vi.” Vivian was one of several girls in Smoky Hill’s high school who had become pregnant the previous school year – and Vi had been a member of the First Baptist Church! “The Bible says it’s wrong to have sex before marriage. It will be so much more meaningful to wait until God finds your life partner.”
“But in the meantime I’ll help God by doing a little looking myself.” Sue laughed.
Sue had a reputation for being “fast,” for kissing on the first date, and for “making out” with boys, but Maggie was confident that Sue was a good Christian who would never go “too far.”
Vi’s pregnancy inspired the leaders of First Baptist Church to hire as assistant pastor the young, handsome, charismatic, hell-fire-and-brimstone preacher to organize a youth group as an alternative to the drinking, dancing, and fornication that was so prevalent among the high school students of Smoky Hill.
The youth group was called TLC: “Teens Living for Christ.” There were a dozen regular members and a few others who showed up occasionally. The group scheduled regular Friday night parties -- after the game during football season -- and the preacher counseled the group on how they should conduct themselves to avoid stoking the carnal fires of teenagers. Prayer was suggested as the most powerful weapon when temptation lurked.
Maggie felt her heart flutter whenever she saw the preacher, but he spent more time praying with Sue than he did with her. “Perhaps.” Maggie thought, “Sue’s need was greater.”
The pledge didn’t seem like a burden. Panting boys were not besieging Maggie. She was shy and small while growing up. She didn’t get her period until the eighth grade and her boobs were still rosy little buds when all her girl friends were stuffing theirs into woman-sized bras. They had never grown to be much more than rosy buds.
She was humiliated by the nickname the boys gave her. In the hallway at school one day, a boy put his thumb on her nipple and pushed and said, “Oops, I thought that was the button for the elevator.” Everyone called her “Buttons” after that.
Things got a little better that summer after her junior year. She could look at herself in the mirror and see that she was slender, average height, and almost pretty with silky, straight, light-brown hair and large, waif-like brown eyes. Her breasts remained tiny. They were like two fried eggs topped with cherries – large, plump, red cherries that embarrassed her with their prominence. She kept them well covered, as she did the rest of her body, by wearing loose blouses that buttoned up to the neck and skirts that reached below her knees.
Sue had chosen Maggie to be her best friend and to follow in her boisterous wake like a silent secret sharer. Sue was not popular with other girls. She attracted too much attention from the boys. She was always surrounded by a crowd of boys laughing at her jokes and eyeing her impressive cleavage. The boys who could not attract Sue’s attention would sometimes pay attention to Maggie.
Maggie dreamed of romance – especially with one of the dreamy football players who would see in her the qualities of character that she thought the popular cheerleaders and beauty queens lacked. She masturbated frequently, conjuring up situations in which she found true, Christian love – but her fantasies stopped short of sexual relations. The handful of dates she had in her junior year never proceeded beyond a goodnight kiss.
Romance found her that fall. Appropriately, it happened at the Friday night TLC party at the church. The boy was a recent addition to the youth group. His name was Don. He sat down beside her while soft drinks and cake were being served at the conclusion of the party. Sue was on her other side, entertaining a brace of boys with off-color stories and not complaining when their eyes focused on her breasts straining against the fabric of her blouse. She directed a quick look at Don and gave Maggie the suggestion of a wink.
“Would you like to go to the movie with me tomorrow?” Don asked. The nearest movie theater was in Hickok, twenty miles away. “My father will let me take our car.”
Maggie was taken aback. She barely knew him. She stuttered for a moment and couldn’t come up with a reason to say no. “Why, yes, That would be nice. Thank you for asking me.”
Don had not been an character in her sexual fantasies. He was, as she was, undistinguished in school although Maggie was an honor student and he was only average. He was tall, lanky, and rather good-looking -- though clumsy and inept in social situations. In the vernacular of the time, he was in the high school social class of “grits” – which was better than being a “hood” but well below the prestige of a “jock” or a “prep.” Maggie was in no-man’s-land. She was too smart to be a grit but her pedigree and personality didn’t measure up to being a prep.
They hardly found a word to say on the date, but as Don walked her to the door of her house after the movie, he asked, “Would you go to the Homecoming dance with me?”
The more conservative members of the congregation at First Baptist Church considered dancing a sin. “But Sue dances – and she’s the preacher’s daughter,” Maggie said to herself, “and a boy has asked me to go!”
Yes, I would love to,” she answered – and kissed Don on the cheek. Maggie was confident that the jungle sounds of rock and roll music and the hot, feverish contortions of bodies on the dance floor would not lead her into the temptation. Rather, she would be a witness for Christ at the dance. Her faith would shine like a beacon. Her deportment would say. “I can dance and still be a good Christian.”
Don and Maggie became a couple. They went to church parties, watched television, studied together and, when he could get his family’s car, went to the movies. They cuddled on the sofa in the living room of Maggie’s house and kissed chastely, but they never allowed their hands or mouths to stray to forbidden zones and she kept her lips closed -- one of the tips of the handsome preacher to help her avoid temptation.
Don, Maggie believed, had potential to become a good Christian – even a preacher as outstanding in work for the Lord as the youth group leader with the golden tongue and the black, swept-back hair. Don was her first opportunity to carry out the Bible’s command to “go into the whole world and preach the gospel.” To make of Don a good Christian would surely lay up treasures in heaven for her. She fantasized that he would become a pastor and she would pass all the days of her life as his helpmate, a shining example of Christian womanhood. Nor did it hurt her social standing in high school to have a boy friend.
Sue’s opinion of Don was grudging. “Yes, Buttons,” she said. She often called her that hated nickname when she didn’t fully approve. “He’s a nice boy and good looking, and all that ... but you’ve got a future to think of. You and I, we’re going down the yellow brick road to something better than this town.” She took Maggie’s hands in hers and laughed and sang, “We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!”
Although Sue had abundant boys at her beck and call, including J.B., the star halfback on the high school football team, Maggie thought that Sue was a little jealous of her happiness with Don and begrudged the time that she spent with him. Sue needed Maggie. She didn’t have any other close girl friends.
It was just after Christmas while cuddling together on the sofa in her house that Don moved his hand from Maggie’s shoulder to her waist, his fingers passing slowly over her breasts. Her nervous giggle ended in a gasp when his mouth found hers and he pushed himself close to her and his hand ran down her back and under the waistband of her skirt.
Maggie allowed the kiss to continue longer than she should have before she shook herself free from him. “Sorry,” he apologized.
“I understand,” she said. She had been taught that it was the woman’s responsibility to restrain the savage sexual beast that lurks in the heart of men. She patted Don on the knee to show that he was forgiven and they sat a little closer than usual the rest of the night, his arm over her shoulder and chest pressed into her ribs, her large, hard, right nipple enjoying the feel of the friction through their clothing.
She masturbated that night with the fantasy that Don and she were married and enjoying the blissful delights of sex between two committed Christians. It was the first time she had ever carried her sexual fantasies all the way to intercourse.
On their next evening together, while they were sitting together on the sofa, his hand again found its way to her breast and lingered. His hands stayed in place while they kissed -- and she broke another rule she had learned for avoiding temptation. She took her feet off the floor and reclined on the sofa. She allowed him to unfasten the top buttons on her blouse and his fingers to reach under her bra to feel her nipples. She sensed the hardness of his penis beneath the fabric of his blue jeans.
“I love you,’ he said. “I want to marry you.”
She was speechless. “Don’t you love me?” he pressed.
“Oh, I do,” she answered, kissing him on the lips.
“I think this is all right if we’re going to be married.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by “this.” She thought about it as they kissed, he half on top of her, his fingers massaging her breasts, her twitching to feel better his hard penis pressing against her hip. “Well, yes,” she said. “I think it’s all right that we do this. As long as we don’t go any further,” she added quickly.
“Of course not,” he agreed.
After that, they talked a lot about marriage and their future. Maggie didn’t exactly accept his proposal of marriage -- and she could not yet quite come out with a declaration of unqualified love -- but she believed their relationship was permanent. She would help him grow up to be the kind of person he could be. He was sometimes slothful at school and vague about his future.
Don came over late one night to watch a movie on television. Her parents had already gone to bed. She was wearing flannel pajamas-- long, loose trousers held on with a drawstring and a loose top that buttoned down the front. The pajamas were modest, she told herself, but she was aware that his hands could find her breasts easier under the top than if she put on a bra and blouse.
They lay on the sofa side-by-side and for the first time a boy’s mouth sucked her nipples. She turned onto her back and he rolled on top of her and pressed against her groin. He began to gyrate, his body driving harder and harder against hers. She spread her legs to feel him as he pitched wildly back and forth, breathing hard and moaning. The knot on her pajama bottoms came loose and the cloth parted and the brass zipper of his blue jeans tangled in her pubic hair.
“You’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!” she muttered through clenched teeth. He didn’t stop and after a few, last hard strokes he groaned and collapsed against her, his labored breathing hot against she neck.
She wasn’t sure what had happened -- but she thought he had “climaxed.”
He lay on top of her, breathing hard, and she felt the hardness in his jeans go away after his last spasm. He relaxed in her arms; her pajama bottoms were open, pulled down to leave her thighs only half-covered, one of his hands was between her legs, her pajama top was unbuttoned and his head was resting on her bare breasts.
Only a month before the notion of displaying her breasts to a man would have been unthinkable, let alone allowing his hand to brush over her pubic mound. She pushed his hand away, afraid that he might notice the wetness in her crotch.
“Did I hurt you?” Don asked as his breathing became more normal.
“Just a little,” she answered. “I like it when you kiss my breasts. And, and ... uh ... I liked the other too, but I’m tender down there.”
“I can’t wait until we get married and we can go all the way.”
“I think God is telling us that we will be happy together.”
“Let’s get married after graduation,” he said. “Maybe I’ll get a job instead of college.”
“Oh, no, you must go to college. Perhaps you could become a preacher?”
“Perhaps,” his lack of enthusiasm was noticeable. She worried about his lack of ambition.
“Please, Jesus,” she prayed. “Instill in Don the desire to do your will and work on your behalf. And, Jesus,” she added, “Bless the soul of Sue. She loves you and she needs your guidance to avoid the temptations of sin.” She had a strong suspicion that Sue had already violated the pledge with J. B. the football player. Sue was vague about the details of her romance, but he was known to have had sex with several girls.
Two nights later, in the back seat of his father’s car, Maggie wrapped her legs around Don and moved in concert with him in a pantomime of intercourse. He climaxed again. She suppressed the wish that he had lasted a little bit longer as she felt that familiar, deep agitation that preceded her self-induced orgasms.
A few days later, while they were kissing on her sofa, Don unzipped his jeans and pulled her hand down to his crotch. He guided her hand to his penis. Together they pulled it out of his pants, her hand wrapped around it.
` “Maggie,” he muttered, “I need ... some ... ah ... relief. I’m afraid I’ll want to do something bad if ... ah ... you don’t help me.”
She wasn’t sure how to help him, but it was not difficult to learn. A few strokes of her hand and he breathed hard and sighed loudly and his penis jerked wildly and hot sperm surged out of him and fell on her arm and hand.
She held his penis until it lost its hardness. It became small and insignificant in her hands. It didn’t even respond when she gave it a few more strokes.
As Don lay back on the sofa and relaxed she wished that he would provide some relief for her, but it seemed too bold and sinful to ask him. She left him alone as soon as she could to wash away the sperm drying on her arm and to change her underwear. Her panties were wet.
That night she prayed about Don and what they had done. “Am I violating the pledge?” she asked.
“No,” she said to God. “The pledge was to abstain from intercourse. Don and I are nearly married in your eyes. You are giving us this pleasure as a sample of the bliss we will experience in our marital bed.”
Perhaps, she thought, Don was right and they should get married soon. Several girls in her high school – and even in her church group – planned to be married immediately after graduation that spring. But, what about college... ? She left the thought hanging in suspense.
The next time they met, in Don’s car parked on a lonely country, she “helped” him again but this time he spurted sperm all over her best white skirt. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at the wet spots with his handkerchief. “I’ll never do that again. I promise.”
She worried that her dress would have noticeable stains, but she said to him. “It’s all right. I want to make you do that. I want to meet your needs. But not violating our pledge, of course,” she quickly added.
“Of course not.” he answered. “Not until we’re married. Or at least engaged.”
She got her relief the next time they met on that sofa while her parents were out of the house visiting friends. At last! She had worried that she was one of those “frigid” women she had heard about. Despite a dozen times when he had rubbed against her and ejaculated in his jeans or in her hand, she had still not climaxed. This time, however, her skirt had worked its way up to her waist and his hand found its way beneath it. He slipped his hand inside her panties and one finger found her slit.
She didn’t sweep his hand away. “Just your hand,” she gasped, “not your finger. Not inside me.” That was going too far. She didn’t know whether a finger inserted into her would cause her to lose her purity or not -- but it seemed too risky.
“Okay,” he said. He rubbed his hand over her panties and into her slit and pressed against her clitoris and she hunched in pleasure, unzipping his jeans and pulling his hard penis out.
Maggie’s first man-made orgasm was a wondrous thing. She had never been popular with boys; she was repressed and guilt-ridden; she lacked self-esteem; she was a puritan. Don’s hand rubbed her to a climax that left her shaking like a leaf, her body wildly surging back and forth and he hung on to her like a rider on a wild horse.
When she could talk again, she said, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.” He was holding her and she was naked except for her panties, pulled down to her thighs. His penis was rubbing against her thigh. “Make me cum,” he said. That was the first time he had said that word.
She touched him, and he exploded, sperm spurting. She felt the wetness of the sperm all over her naked thighs and crotch. Suddenly, she was alarmed. “Oh, my God,” she said, leaping up from the sofa. “I could get pregnant. I’ve got to wash this off.”
She pulled my panties off and rushed into the bathroom with him following her. She jumped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it. He stood outside the shower. “You won’t get pregnant,” he said. “I didn’t cum inside you. Only on you. You can’t get pregnant.”
“I have to scrub it off. I have to be sure. Stand near the front door and warn me if my parents come home.” She finished her shower, found a fresh pair of panties, her bra, pulled her dress on over her head, and put her soiled panties into the dirty clothes bin, first making sure there were no tell-tale signs of sperm spots on them.