My First Time Story

It happened a long time ago. I was fifteen at the time. I will never forget those couple of hours until I die and smile every time I think of them. My wife, on occasion, caught me in reverie and questioned what I was smiling about as I stared off into the horizon. I tease her by telling her I’m thinking about our wedding night.

My wife and I are comfortably retired and have a wonderful and loving life together. I am very proud of my two kids, and they are doing well. We will be grandparents for the fourth time in a couple of months.

But there was a day. One memorable day that will only be mine and never shared.

I grew up in a small country town in the early sixties. No matter where you lived in that town, there were woods to play in with your friends. Places to explore with them or on your own. We passed a lot of time fishing, and if you were over the age of fourteen, you most likely had a single shot 0.22 to shoot rats at the town dump.

I was walking in the woods on what was a beautiful summer day. Just a few wisps of clouds and a slight breeze. I could hear the birds chirping away as I passed. I was walking toward the stream that ran through the woods on the other side of an open field.

I came out of the woods into the field, and there she was. Miss Moore, my fifth-grade teacher, bending over as she picked wildflowers.

I was surprised she recognized me. “Well, Peter, haven’t you grown up to be a big boy over the past few years.”

Of course, I greeted her with, “Hi, Miss Moore.”

She leaned over and picked some daisies. She was wearing a floral summer dress with a scoop neck.

When she stood back up, she smiled and said, “Are you looking down my dress, young man?”

I quickly turned away, embarrassed at being caught and started picking daisies as I denied everything. When I turned back to look at her, she was still smiling. I had expected at least a harsh reprimand or slap in the face. But she was smiling even as I handed her the flowers I had picked. “I’m sorry, Miss Moore. I didn’t mean to, but...” I could not get the rest out.

“But what, Peter?”

I just blurted it out. “I could not help it. You’re the prettiest teacher in the whole world.”

“The whole world, you say. My, my, that is quite the compliment to give to your old teacher. I guess I should tell you, I always thought you were a very handsome young man, and after that fine compliment, I guess I don’t mind so much that you looked.”

She sat in the grass and set the flowers aside. She leaned forward as I stood in front of her. I could see right down to her bra, and there was a goodly amount of freckled cleavage visible. I remember her as not being a big woman. Maybe five foot five and about 120 pounds with flaring hips and a bust that I am sure my mind has exaggerated over the years.

She even toyed with the top button on her summer dress and pulled it forward. Her next words, as I recall, were, “Is this better, Peter? You’re a big boy now, so I don’t mind so much that you look.”

I remember being pretty much at a loss of what to do except stare. I know I had my hands in my pockets and must have been shuffling my feet. If I said anything, I don’t remember what it was.

She patted a spot beside her, “Come sit with me, Peter.”

When I was standing, the grass in the field was up to my knees. It wouldn’t be long before it would be cut for hay. I did what I was told and sat down beside her. It was almost as if we were in our own little private place when I sat. She was still leaning forward. I had an even better view down her blouse.

“You do know that when a woman gives you permission to look down her dress, you should at least offer to give her a kiss as a thank you.”

I’m sure she was the one to kiss me. I would never have been that forward with her. But once she kissed me, I was a willing participant. Every time she put her lips to mine, I kissed her back. I even put my arms around her shoulders.

Soon she leaned to the side, and I followed her until we were lying side by side. She had her arms around me as we kissed. She kept her arms around me when she rolled onto her back. I ended up half on top of her when she pulled me toward herself. I felt her hand on my butt, pulling me even closer to her. I pressed my inflated cock against her thigh.

“Get on top of me, Peter.” I knew this was a sexual thing, and being on top of her was where I heard I should be. That’s it. Stay really close to me like that. She held my butt as she pushed up against me.

My hand strayed to her breast, and I quickly pulled it back. She took my hand and put it back on her breast.

“You can touch me, Peter. You can even unbutton my dress if you want to. Here let me help you.” She unbuttoned four buttons and spread the top of her dress open. Her bra-covered breasts were just inches from my face. Then she undid her bra. It hooked together in the front, and when she pulled it aside, her areola and nipples were right in front of me. I reached out and touched her breasts lightly with just my fingertips. With her lying on her back, they did not look that big, but I had nothing to compare them to at the time. I just knew they were soft and fascinating to look at.

“That’s it, Peter. I like it when you touch me.”

I felt her press my butt more tightly to her as she ground her pussy against me. Of course, at the time, I did not have a clue as to why she was doing it, but it felt good against my cock, so I did not complain. I also knew it was something I should not be doing, but that part was easy to ignore.

Her rubbing on me had become more aggressive when she said, “We need to stop now, Peter. Stand up, please.” I thought I had done something wrong, and she would fix her bra and button her dress, but she didn’t.

She sat up as I stood up in front of her. She reached up and unzipped my fly, and pushed my pants down around my ankles. She had a very determined look on her face as she put her fingers in the waistband of my briefs. She pulled them down slowly, and when my cock was exposed, she stopped.

“Yes, Peter, you are a very big boy now.” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of my cock. I flinched and jumped back out of her reach. I had no idea she would ever do something that. She only laughed and put her hands back on my hips.

“Don’t be afraid, Peter. I won’t hurt you. Now come closer and let me show you what a woman likes to do with young men when they like them a lot.”

I moved closer. I certainly was not going to miss out on finding out what Miss Moore likes to do with boys when she has their pants down. She leaned in and licked me a couple more times.

“Now, didn’t that feel good? I bet it even tickled a little bit.”

I nodded and stood there waiting for her to tell me what to do next. Because I was sure as hell did not know what to do with a half-naked grown woman that was licking my cock. If it had been Betty La Crosse that I salivated over in school, I’m sure I would have let her suck my cock, and I would have been tearing at her clothes. But this was Miss Moore, my fifth-grade teacher. A woman well into her thirties. Untouchable and respected.

“Mmmm, I like playing these fun games with young men. I like making them feel good. You don’t mind if I make you feel good down there?”

Miss Moore was stroking me as she talked. Then she leaned in and licked and kissed my cock some more. When she thought I was a little more relaxed, she took me into her mouth and sucked on me. God, did it ever feel good. My legs started to shake, and I knew I was making some funny sounds as I enjoyed this new and exciting game, Miss Moore liked to play.

She had my cock as hard as it was going to get when she stopped sucking on it. She pulled up her dress and lowered her panties. I grabbed my cock and held it as I stared at the pubic hair and what I could see of her pussy. I was starting to get an idea of where this was going. At least, I hoped it was going that way.

She stepped out of her panties and set them aside. She laid down and held her arms out to me, “Come now, Peter. It’s your turn to make me feel good. Come and lay on me, and I am sure you know what to do. I will help you. Come on, don’t be afraid.”

I was twitching with excitement. Seeing my teacher like that with her dress pulled up around her waist, and the top open with her breast visible would have been enough to make a lasting memory. But to have sex with her was a wet dream come true. I knelt between her legs and did what I heard I should do. I pushed my cock against her as she reached down and guided me into her. With one hand in the small of my back, one around my shoulders, she pushed her hips up, and my cock slid in up to the hilt.

“That’s nice, Peter. I like that we are doing this. Do you like it?”

She kept lifting her hips and then letting them fall back. I could hardly get the words out. “Yes, I like it.”

“Now, I want you to try doing it. I started moving my hips back and forth as I fucked her.

“Oh yes, just like that. Mmmm that feels so nice. Keep doing it, just like that.”

I came in her almost immediately. I thought it was all over and I should get up, but my cock did not go down. She still held me, and I kept fucking her, and I like to think that she had an orgasm. I kept pumping my hips until she lay still and kissed my cheek. “That was very nice, Peter, but you need to stop now.” I dutifully got off of her and pulled up my pants.

Miss Moore sat up, hooked her bra together, and adjusted her breasts. She buttoned her dress and stood up to put her panties back on. I got dressed and picked up the flowers we had picked. I handed her the flowers, and she gave me a parting kiss and walked away as if nothing had happened between us. I watched her until she disappeared down a path into the woods.

Miss Moore would say hi and smile when I saw her around town. I knew enough not to say anything to anyone, and who would believe me anyway. I admit that I went to that field every day for two weeks and looked for her, but she was never there.

So now I stare out the window and remember that day with a fondness and maybe a little embellishment. She might seem a lot prettier than she was, and I may not have been quite the stud I make myself out to be. But that’s okay. She has departed this earth, and it is my memory and no one else’s. I like to think I was her only young lover but maybe not.

The End

***

Imagination

Copyright DDMarshall 2022

My fourteen-year-old son Greg and his friends were playing cowboys and Indians in the wood. It was noon, and it was time for him to come in for lunch. I went out the back door and across the yard to the edge of the woods. Just as I stepped into the woods and was about to call for him I heard.

“What do you think you’re doing trespassing on my ranch? You a rustler?” My son said in the deepest voice he could manage.

My son’s friend Billy chime in, “She looks like an outlaw to me.”

I put my hands up and decided I had time to play. Lunch was only a sandwich so it could wait, “You got me, cowboy. But my kids are starving. I was only going to take one.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. We plugged the last two but I ain’t about to shoot no woman. Move it.” My son waved his cap pistol in the direction he wanted me to go, “We better call the sheriff.”

They had their cap guns trained on me so what could I do but walk with my hands up. They took me to their ranch house which consisted of a couple of crates and an old folding table they must have taken from our garage.

My son’s friend hollered, “You can come out now, Shirley. You’re not an Indian anymore. You’re the sheriff.”

Shirley Bates came running wearing a headband with a turkey feather stuck in it.

My son told the authorities my crime, “We caught this here rustler trying to rustle our cows.”

Shirley struck a pose with her fist on her hips as she looked me over, “Why I think that’s “Too Tall Rogers.” I hear she shot two deputies down in Laredo. We need to lock her up.”

I thought Shirley was quite clever with my new handle, I am a couple of inches taller than her and the boys.

“We don’t have a jail.” My son Greg pointed out.

Billy provided a solution, “Let’s tie her to the tree, and then we can have a trial. I’ll be the judge and Greg can be her lawyer.”

I chuckled.

My son and Shirley thought that was a great idea as they agreed with Billy, “Yeah that would be great. Let’s do that.”

I wasn’t sure the part about tying me to a tree was a good idea. But I thought having a mock trial would be fun for them. Kids have such wonderful imaginations. I expressed my concern about being tied to a tree, “We can play your game but you’re not tying me to a tree.” I spoke to my pistol totting lawyer, “That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

No ma’am that’s the law. They can’t take any chances that you will try to escape.”

“All right, but as soon as the trial is over we have to go home for lunch.”

I backed up to the birch tree they told me was going to be the holding cell. I put my hands back and Greg tied my hands behind the tree.

The trial didn’t go too well for me. Apparently, I was caught red-handed and they had a good likeness of me on a wanted poster with a 10 trillion dollar reward.

“GUILTY” Billy declared with vigor as he slammed his fist down on the table.

“What now?” Greg asked.

Shirley came up with an idea, “We need to search her before we lock her up for good.”

Shirley came over and started to pat me down. She put her hands in my pockets and ran her hand over my ass. She pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and handed it to Greg and declared, “Contraband.”

Then Billy wanted a turn, “I’m going to be a deputy now. I think I should help.” Billy came over and patted me down starting with my sides and then just happened to pat my breasts while he was at it. He even had the nerve to grin while he did it.

I reminded him that this was not that kind of game, “Whoa their cowboy, that was uncalled for.”

“You never know what you might have hidden in there.” He informed me with a smile.

I protested when Shirley started unbuttoning my blouse, “Hey stop, that.” This was getting out of hand. I tried to pull away but it just hurt my wrist when I did.

“Just doing my job, Too Tall. Who knows what other contraband you might have? I think we better do a strip search.”

“Now wait a minute.” But before I could protest any further. Shirley had my blouse open and put a hand in my bra cup and felt my breast.

“Nothing there” She declared.

I should have resented that remark. I wondered why Greg wasn’t saying anything about how his friends were using his mother.

Then she put her hand in the other cup, “Nothing there.”

Greg finally said something, “Maybe we should stop. It’s time for lunch.”

Shirley turned to Greg and put her hands on her hip, “Why? You always said you wanted to see your mother’s tits. She’s guilty and this is a strip search. What’s the big deal? You guys see mine all the time. Besides, I want to see them too.”

Shirley unhooked my bra that conveniently hooked together in the front. The three of them stood there looking at my tits. I tried to loosen the rope but all that did was make my tits bounce around as I struggled.

“Wow, your mother has really nice tits,” Billy informed the audience.

I tried to sound as commanding as I could, “Okay boys and girls you have seen them now untie me.”

Billy’s eyes were riveted on my breasts, “I want to feel them.”

Billy came over and ran his hand over my breasts. I didn’t expect his hands to feel so soft and gentle. When the palm of his hand brushed over the nipples they became erect. I was about to protest as he explored but instead I let out a sigh of pleasure. The last time I was with a man he was so rough I haven’t had any desire to go out on a date for months. I was about to say something when Shirley came over.