My earliest memories of sexual attraction date from about the time I first sprouted pubic hair. I was a paper boy and had a delivery route of about 50 households in my hometown of Kittery, Maine. One of my customers was a childless couple in their early 30’s. Their name was Bernier; Mrs. Bernier’s first name was Jackie. I thought she was the sexiest woman I had ever seen. She had long dark curly hair and firm round breasts that she did not seem concerned to hide from me when she answered the door on Saturday mornings. But her loveliest asset was her large heart-shaped fanny.

Her husband was an appliance repairman for Sears and he worked on Saturdays (It’s amazing how I remember all these details after all these years). For some reason, even though everyone else paid on Thursdays, Mrs. Bernier always paid me for her papers on Saturday morning. I was happy about this because she was always in her house coat and never wore more than a thin short night gown underneath. I am sure she thought I was an innocent kid (I WAS an innocent kid!) And so she never tried to conceal her charms. I got lots of peaks. I would linger and stall, drop change (often she would bend over and pick it up for me Heaven!), just do anything to prolong the visual and olfactory feast (she smelled unbelievably good to me).

Although she was my mother’s age, I thought about Mrs. Bernier all the time, but never about any of the pubescent girls I went to school with. I was still too young to masturbate I knew only vaguely what it was and since I had never seen a pussy, it was hard for me to imagine fucking. So that probably explains why I used to fantasize about kissing and licking her gloriously beautiful ass. I began to dream about it and would wake in pain blue balls, but I didn’t know it. And then one morning while dreaming about kissing and licking Mrs. Bernier’s puckered sphincter, I woke up feeling like a waterfall was about to erupt from my penis. I took it in my hand. It was hard as a rock and there, squeezing its way out of my peehole, was a single perfect clear drop that I knew was NOT pee. The pleasure was excruciating. Although that drop was all I had, I believed (wrongly and presumptuously) that there were gallons down there. So I clinched my legs together to stem the tide.