Chapter 1: First Love

After my year as a schoolteacher I took a different job in the north to be able to save money faster and get to college. My sexual activity in the remote location was limited to two liaisons that were not worth writing about.

I entered University at age twenty and, three years out of high school, I was older than most freshmen. It was about two months after the beginning of the term that I met Janey, an attractive, large-framed senior and began a two-year relationship. A frustrating one for much of that time.

Janey was about a year older than I, a quiet, almost shy woman, who was more oriented towards intellectual pursuits than I but who seemed to accept my 'jock' mentality. She was all I could ask for in the kissing department but that was as far as I was able to progress that year. I was, for the first time, in love.

Janey and I necked and petted at every opportunity but it went no farther than that. I would return to my room with achingly swollen balls and would take solace from my hand. But I was in love. We'd get married and then all would be taken care of. But, of course, that would have to wait until I graduated.

You might think that with all my experience this young woman would have been an easy conquest. This was not the case but of course up to that time most of my experience had been in the seduction of very young girls. The exceptions, Mrs. Haines, Franny and Fiorella had been the initiators. Janey later confided that she too had been frustrated but her fear of pregnancy had been greater than her desire for sex. She admitted though that had I been more insistent, my ultimate goal might have been reached sooner.

During the summer, I worked back in the North in my pre-college job and Janey worked at a resort hotel. By the beginning of September, even though I'd found some relief with a schoolteacher from whom I got crabs, I was no longer willing to wait for marriage.

"Oh God, Janey, I've missed you."

We were in my hotel room in the city where we'd agreed to meet after the

long summer apart. I was heading back to college and she to a teaching job in a small fishing village near the city where we were meeting. Our kiss was deep and wet and I was determined that, this time, I wouldn't take no for an answer.

"No Joe... no... You can't," she protested when I tried to remove her panties. We were in bed, my pants were off but not my undershorts, and her skirt was up around her hips. Funny, I don't remember much about Janey's breasts. I'm a tit-man, but my objective with her was lower on her body and I don't think I'd even got her bra open.

Please, Janey... please," I begged as I rolled on top of her. She closed her thighs warmly on my cock, which had slipped out of my shorts, and I began dry-fuck. But that's as far as I got. I've wondered since then how close she was to surrendering. She must have become excited with my prick rubbing over her pussy, even though her panties prevented direct, flesh-to-flesh contact. Anyway, it was better than my hand and she didn't object when I bathed her thighs and her crotch with my semen.

During the next year she came to visit me on several occasions and I adjusted to the dry-fuck limitation although, usually, my cock would be raw and sore from rubbing over her panties. We never talked about it but, the more I think about it, the more I have to conclude that she did enjoy it. Did she masturbate after I left? I assume so for, to the best of my knowledge, I never made her cum by dry-fucking her. When I visited her home that Christmas, she gave me an 'almost handjob'. Almost because she didn't really get her hand completely around my cock but she did hold it enough that I shot a load halfway across their living room.

During that year I after her graduation, I was known as "Janey's guy' and therefore off-limits to the girls on campus since I didn't make a move on any of them. Had I done so, I suspect that the off-limits status would have quickly evaporated. Janey visited every month or so and I would get some relief via the 'dry-fuck route' but it wasn't really satisfying.

My only 'date' during that year was with a married woman whose husband was in a mental institution. It was an enjoyable liaison that was made even more enjoyable by her plump, precocious twelve-year-old daughter. In the next chapter I'll recount some details of that experience but, for now, I'll continue with the story of my first love.

It was late spring. The weather was nice, my college year was ended, and I was visiting Janey. She boarded with her aunt, a huge woman in her forties, and her uncle, a gay intellectual. Except 'gay' hadn't been invented in those days, at least not in its present meaning. He was more likely to be called 'queer' or a 'fruit' or some other derogatory term on the rare occasion that his sexual proclivities were mentioned at all. But that has no bearing on my story, anyway.

The house was in darkness except, near the window, where the soft light from a full moon shone. I was sleeping, or rather, lying, on a sofa in the living room of the house where Janey boarded. That was my bed. Janey was sleeping in the small room off the living room and her aunt and uncle were upstairs.

Ouch! I banged my shin on the coffee table when, as quietly as I could, I worked my way across the room to Janey's door. I froze at the loud squeak when I pushed the door open. It probably wasn't as loud as it sounded to me but the house was otherwise silent so it seemed loud.

"Joe? Is that you?" Janey whispered when I approached the bed. "You shouldn't be in here. They'll hear us."

There was a loud creak of bedsprings when I sat on the edge of her bed and we both held our breath, listening for sounds upstairs. "I had to come kiss you goodnight, darling," and her mouth opened under mine as our tongues tangled wetly. The bed creaked again when I lay down by her side, lifting the covers first so we could be close.

I was wearing only a t-shirt and my undershorts and Janey had on a short nightgown of some kind so, when she turned on her side to face me, our bodies were excitingly close.

"Joe... no Joe," she whispered between kisses, "You have to go... they'll hear us."

"We aren't making any noise," I whispered back. I'd got my hand under her nightgown and it was on her hip. God! She didn't have any panties on! I'd never had an opportunity like this with her. "I don't think it'd bother your aunt, anyway." And that was true. Janey's obese aunt was definitely a free spirit and I think she suspected I'd been screwing her niece, even though I wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

"Please Joe... hannh... you have to go," Janey panted when I eased her onto her back and tried to push my knee between her thighs. "We're making... hannhh... a lot of noise... too much." And, in fact, every time we moved the springs on the old bed made a racket that sounded like fighting tomcats.

I had my hand at the top of her tightly closed thighs and was surprised to discover the flesh there was wet and slippery. Was that why she didn't have her panties on? Had she been masturbating before I came into her bedroom? I'm pretty sure that was the case and maybe that's why, that night, I was finally successful. I'd got to her after she'd ignited her own furnace.

"No... No... Please Joe... not tonight... we can't." I'd freed my penis from my shorts and it was pressed to the bare, warm flesh of her thigh. Was she saying we couldn't dry-fuck, or was she saying that, another time, she'd give in? Her voice sounded different and, somehow, I got the impression that she meant the latter. But, if so, it was likely just a ruse to get me to leave. And I wasn't about to leave.

Janey was strong but, as I continued to try to force my knee between her legs, I sensed a gradual yielding. We were kissing again and, despite her entreaties that I had to go, her mouth was as active as mine. And kissing smothered her protests, too. Her arms were around my neck and then my knee was between hers and her legs were parting. There was a slow but unmistakable weakening of her resistance and I gradually moved over her, first my knee clamped between hers, then part of my thigh and then I was on top of her, my throbbing penis trapped between her warm hip flesh and my belly.

"Shhh... Don't move," Janey gasped when we heard a noise upstairs. I did as she asked. Well, almost unmoving. I was sort of fucking her hip. It was better than fucking her panties, anyway. I was leaking enough juice to lubricate a fleet of trucks and my cock slid easily in the fleshtrap of our close pressed bodies. But I wanted more than that.

We heard the roar and gurgle of a flushing toilet and I relaxed. Janey did too, a bit, and I slid a hand inward, over her hip and down to the barely accessible gap at the top of her thighs. Oh God! Her pussy! I had my hand on it for the first time. And it was wet.

"Nahh... Hannhh... Nannh," Janey sobbed and I suddenly realized that her face was wet with tears. But, more importantly, I realized also that her legs were no longer gripping my thigh. They had relaxed.

"Darling... oohh Janey, darling... don't cry." I covered her mouth with mine, tasting the saltiness of the tears that, somehow, had trickled down to her lips. But my fingers were there. I was playing with her naked pussy, feeling the fat lips with their wetly matted hair fringe.

"Is that your clitoris, Janey?" I asked although I knew it was. I pressed my finger into the wet slot on the hard, erect nubbin, rubbing it excitedly.

"Yunh... Hanh... yes... Hunnh... No... Hannhh," and I could feel her body shake with sobs as I fingered her. She was crying but she wasn't trying to stop me. Not physically, anyway. "Doh... hoh... hon't," she whimpered in a piteous plea but, like they say, a stiff cock has no conscience nor is it compassionate.

"I love you Janey... I love you," I whispered into her slack-jawed mouth as I pushed her legs wider apart with my other knee.

"Nah... Hanh... nah... Hannhh," Janey sobbed but her sobs were almost masked by her heavy breathing. Overwhelmed with passion, I guided my prick up to her pussy and found its long sought objective. "Nah Nah Nah," she gasped in a panic stricken whisper as I felt the tip of my cock engulfed by the soft, moist orifice. She was trembling under me, her thighs loosely clasping mine, but otherwise she wasn't moving. It could have been her fear of making noise but I don't think so. I believe that twenty three year old Janey was finally surrendering to her needs. (That is, unless she already had, with someone else?) I pushed slowly into her and, although the hot, juicy passage was tight, there was no obstruction. After I fucked her she insisted that I was the first and perhaps I was. I've had others who claimed to be virgins too, some of whom I was sure weren't, but at least one other who, as with Janey, I'm inclined to believe.

Janey tensed beneath me when I made my final lunge to bury my tool completely within her juicy toolbox and the springs protested with a loud squeak. Our bodies were meshed, hip-to-hip, belly-to-belly, her soft sheath compressing my cock within its delightful, exhilarating clasp. I get a special high when I enter a woman for the first time and, if it's the first time she's been entered, the thrill is even greater. And I believed it was Janey's virgin fuck, hymen or not.