Chapter 1: Her First

The crash of the shattering vase in the brick fireplace was most satisfying. She'd thrown it clear across the room, too. Not bad... Then she flung herself onto her bed and sobbed, her body shaking...

Her distress wasn't sorrow, it was rage, fanned by frustration.

How could he?

How could any boy?

He actually told her he didn't want to take her to the Fourth of July picnic. He'd see her there, but he had plans with his brother and hers and a couple other guys.

Where did he get off with that crap?

Adoré knew very well how she looked. At fifteen, she was pure drop-dead gorgeous, a stereotype teen goddess. And her family, the Parmentiers of Richmond, was 'old money' Atlantic coast aristocrats. Her name alone would ensure entrée to any 'society' function.

So what was Marty's problem? Didn't he know how many boys were panting for the chance to be her escort at the big annual family party?

Though she sometimes came across as a spoiled little rich bitch, Adoré was really a much more sensible, mature, and aware girl than her tantrum would suggest, and not all that full of herself. She was blessed with abnormal beauty and knew it, but tried to act as if it was no big deal.

The problem, simply, was that, though she was only fifteen, she had chosen her man, and he hadn't figured it out... Yet.

Rolling over, she wiped her eyes, sniffled, and sat up, smiling ruefully at herself. Marty was barely sixteen, after all, and everyone knows girls mature much sooner than boys. OK. She'd decided on her man. In fact, she'd chosen him when she first saw him, seven years before. She just needed to convince him of the self-evident fact that they were a couple-and make him think it was HIS idea!

That was the kind of challenge her sharp feminine mind could latch on to.

She rang for a maid to clean the glass from her fireplace while she washed her face, put on the light dash of lipstick that was all the makeup her mother allowed her to use, and changed into the skimpiest "summer casual" clothes she had. Her chestnut hair in a neat ponytail, a thin cotton blouse tied below her unfettered breasts in place of a bra, and short shorts completed the look she wanted.

Hustling out the back of the huge house, she skipped across to the horse barn, where she found her brother and cousins.

"Hi, Dory," Jeff called. "Watcha doin'?"

"Just gonna ride a bit." She knew her brother had already exercised his show mount, and wouldn't want to ride any more. "Anybody want to go along? Marty... ?"

Like a trout in a mountain stream, he started to rise to the lure.

"You can ride Chief..." She knew he'd love to ride her mom's jumper-and her mom wouldn't mind him riding the horse, just to give him the exercise, as long as they were careful.

He took the bait... "OK, Dory. I'll ride along with you."

Hiding a little smile, she knew the chance to ride Chief alongside her would get him, hot as she looked.

After a bit, she'd set the hook.

That summer of 1963, the nation was just beginning to become involved in a little Asian country called Vietnam. Most had not heard of it. The Cuban missile crisis was more immediate. In San Francisco, the 'Hippies' were proclaiming the 'Age of Aquarius.' Grass and sex and burning bras-as well as draft cards-were the big thing on college campuses. Peter, Paul and Mary were singing about where all the flowers have gone, while the Limeliters were suggesting, "Have some Madeira, My Dear?"

The Pill wasn't invented yet. But AIDS hadn't appeared either. Abortions were still against the law in all but a very few states.

The Parmentier family controlled one of the great American fortunes. Although not as well known as the Cabots or Gettys, they were comfortably within that class of wealth. Those who needed to know about them did. Into real estate, building, shipping and commodities, management of the family fortune was divided among "experts". One branch of the family concentrated on shipping, another branch 'specialized' in real estate, and so on. Adoré's father was the family's "money expert". Although relatively young, this made him the 'patriarch' at the moment. He supervised the large family trusts and advised all of the extended family on investment and financial strategies. He also coordinated the family's lobbying effort, which was substantial.

The Steeles were the experts on cattle. They'd moved to San Francisco a hundred years earlier, to profit from the gold rush. Then one enterprising young man moved north, to Oregon of all places, and homesteaded a ranch in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. He'd done well, too, shipping beef all over the west, even up to Alaska and once, to Hawaii. The San Francisco Steeles had been wiped out in the Great Earthquake, leaving the Oregon ranchers the only remnant of that branch of the family. Now the Steeles shipped beef all over the country, the quality commanding premium prices from specialty packing houses.

Marty Steele's mother was a Parmentier, too. She'd met his dad during his only trip to Richmond-for Adoré's grandfather's funeral. They'd fallen in love and married. Hazel Parmentier Steele made it a point to visit the east regularly. She brought her two sons every two or three years, feeling that it was important that they know about their roots and their relatives... And that their relatives not forget about them.

Adoré felt it was unfair of her father to look down on the Steeles as 'country cousins'. Rick and Marty were as bright as any young men she'd met. And better looking than most...

Riding along the lane in rural Virginia, the beautiful girl considered how to consolidate her position. Marty and Rick would return to the ranch soon. It would be most of another year, at best, before she could see him again, once he left.

"I sure wish your dad had a couple of good western saddles," Marty complained. Not whining, just making conversation.

"It's not dad. Mom doesn't want them around. Says cowboys are just... cowboys." She aimed a brilliant smile on her companion. "Kinda like cowboys, myself."

Marty smiled back. What sixteen-year-old, full of teenage hormones, wouldn't, with such a fantastic fox giving him her full attention?

"Marty, what's your life like? On the ranch, I mean. Where do you go to school? What's the nearest city? What do you do for fun?"

"Oh, you know, Dory, we're 'home-schooled.' Mom teaches us from books and lesson plans the state sends out. It's kinda fun-except when mom doesn't understand something either. Then we have to call the school-it's in Sisters, a little town named after the "Three Sisters" peaks in the Cascades-and get one of the teachers to explain it to us. Once we all had to drive in there and spend two days with a teacher. Mom took the instruction along with me and Rick. What a trip!"

"But, don't you have any friends? Anybody to do things with?"

"Sure. Rick and I are best friends. And there's a couple of kids on a ranch over a ways that we see now and then. In August, there's the fair. That's always fun. We show our cows, and chase heifers..."

"Why? Aren't they penned up?"

Marty chuckled. "That's what we call the farm and ranch girls that come to the fair."

"Oh!" Adoré blushed. "That's not very nice."

"It's all in fun. They don't mind. They have names for us, too."

"Is there any special girl in Oregon, Marty?"

"Nah. I don't get to see any enough to get to know them. The fairs are all quick gropes and lots of giggles. Nothing that amounts to a hill of beans... Not that I'd mind finding a good girl. But how can a ranch kid date?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking all these dumb questions... Don't you get awful... frustrated?" 'Horny, is what I wanted to ask him, ' she thought.

"That's a fact!" he agreed.

"What do you do?"

Marty looked sharply at her. "Why are you asking this stuff?"

"Because I want to know, is why. I care. And I'm curious about your life out there."

"Why don't you come for a visit? Maybe for Christmas? You can see for yourself."

"I'd like that. Can you get your mom to invite me? Mom won't let me go otherwise."

"Sure, if you really want to come."

"I really do, Marty."

"OK. I'll see what I can do."

They rode in companionable silence for a while.

Then Dory asked, "Marty?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I look all right?"

"Huh?"

"Is there something wrong with how I look?"

Marty just stared at her, dumbfounded. "Don't you have a mirror?" he finally asked.

"Oh, sure. I think I look OK. But it seems guys either ignore me, or want to jump my bones. And," she grinned, "I am well aware that guys our age will jump anything female that's breathing..." She sobered again. "So why do guys ignore me? I don't think I look that bad and I'd like to know what's wrong."

Marty was confused. His experience with girls was VERY limited. Adoré was a cousin, so he had treated her like family. Her flirtation, though, said she wanted to be treated like a girl he might want to be with or something. He didn't have the experience to know how to read the signals properly-nor the knowledge that the degree of blood relationship was pretty distant, and that Adoré was an 'eligible female' in every respect.

He finally decided to just play it straight and answer her question.

"I think, Dory, that maybe you're too pretty... Guys are scared of you. So they over-react one way or the other... Does that make sense?"

"Maybe. Explain, please?"

"Well, a guy looks at you and just knows that every guy wants you. So you got to have lots of guys trying to date you, and so on. So they tend to just leave you alone, feeling they can't stand up to the competition-or too proud to face being rejected... Or, they try to hustle you right then, feeling they will only have the one chance, before somebody else gets there ahead of them...

"That's the best I can do. I dunno if I'm right, but that's my best answer."

After a moment, while their horses plodded down the country lane, Adoré looked at him and asked, "Do I scare you, Marty?"

"Sometimes. When I look close at you. Mostly I just consider you're one of my cousins-one of the nicer ones."

"Well, I'm glad for that much... I always think of you as Marty, my friend. The cousin part doesn't mean anything beyond that to me; it was just how I met you."

"Thanks, Dory. Now that I think of it, you've always been a friend, rather than an opponent, or a giggly girl."

"Marty, I don't ever want to scare you off. I think you're right about why guys act like they do around me... So, would you be there for me? Let me be ME with you? And not worry about the packaging?"

"Sure, Dory. If that's what you want?"

I really want lots more than that, but it's a start! she thought. Aloud, she said, "I'd appreciate it, Marty. I don't have anybody I can really talk to. I guess I intimidate most girls too-if that's what's really going on. And Jeff is just typical older brother. I love him, but he's such a jerk at times!"

"You can talk to me, Dory. Any time, about anything."

"I'll take you up on that... Will you watch the fireworks with me tomorrow night? I know you want to run around with the guys during the picnic."

"Sure. I'd like that."

The annual Parmentier Fourth of July picnic was a large affair, with somewhere upwards of 600 guests. Food and drink was set out under canopies erected by the caterers. After dark there was always a nice fireworks display, as well as plenty of firecrackers and sparklers for the kids.

Adoré kept track of Marty off and on all afternoon, as he harassed adults with firecrackers and generally goofed off with their brothers and friends. When it started to get dark, she got blankets to sit on and staked out a secluded spot where they could see the fireworks display fine, but have privacy from all the other guests. Grinning to herself, she thought how nice it was to know the grounds better than anyone who didn't live there.

Returning to the pavilions, which were still doing a brisk drink business, she found Marty looking for her.

Pleased, she said, "I got a blanket to sit on. It's over here a ways."

Taking his hand, she led him off to her spot.

"Kind of out of the way, aren't we?" Marty asked, when he saw the place she'd selected.

"Well, this way we won't get trampled by little kids, and my older relatives will leave me alone. I just want to spend some time with you and watch the fireworks without being hassled about it."

"Yeah. I can see that. I don't need any hassle, either."

Adoré had laid out her blankets so that they could watch the display best from flat on their backs. "If you lie down, with your feet that way, the fireworks will be almost over us," she suggested. When Marty had dropped to the ground and was comfortable, she lay beside him. They chatted about this and that, until they heard the sound of the first firework soaring into the night. The explosion, when it came, was very loud, and seemed to be right on top of them. Adoré jumped, and clung to Marty. After a moment, she pretended shame at her action and apologized.

"Sorry, Marty. It startled me."

"That's OK, Dory. What are friends for?"

Adoré was careful not to move her head off of his shoulder, though she didn't press it.

Soon, she felt Marty's hand on her waist, as his arm held her.

"Mmmm. That's nice. Thank you."

Marty didn't reply, but his hand started to gently rub her stomach and side, where it naturally fell.

A few minutes later, another very loud firework exploded right over them. Again, Adoré clung to Marty, making sure her abundant breasts were mashed against his side and chest.

Marty held her tight, stroking her gently. When she stopped quivering, he looked at her, to try to judge how frightened she was. Her eyes, that close, were huge, and her lips were slightly parted. He couldn't help himself.

He kissed her.

She controlled herself and didn't attack. She just kissed him back... the soft, gentle exploration of two inexperienced teenaged kids. Marty rolled more to his side, so they were facing each other and could continue their kissing more comfortably. His free hand stroked her face and shoulder.

"I think I could get used to this," he said softly.

"I know I could," she answered, almost breathless. "More?"

Willing to oblige, Marty kissed her again, and Adoré increased the urgency and fire in the exchange.

Her mouth opened and her tongue learned the shape of his lips. When they parted, she sought their inner sides and the hardness of his teeth. His tongue entered the fray and she tried to suck it down like candy.

All this was very exciting to a ranch-raised teenager-and to Adoré, too! Marty's hands began to stroke her back and sides, while hers clenched his shirt and pulled him tightly to her. Purely instinctively, her hips began moving against him rhythmically. When his free hand moved to her face, tracing its contours, then down her neck to the collarbone, she moved back a bit, to give him room. The hand, almost of its own will, outlined the shape of her clavicle, then traced the upper slopes of her ample breasts. When he would have moved upward again, she moaned and arched her back, putting more breast into his eager hand.

Moving to cup her offering, Marty echoed her moan, their mouths joined again. When he rubbed his palm over her stiffening nipple, she broke the kiss, to gasp and moan louder, pressing her chest against his hand.

In moments, Marty was kneading and caressing her, and she had begun to unbutton his shirt. As soon as she had some of the buttons open, her hand slid inside, to rub softly against his hard chest. Adoré thought to tease him with gentle caresses, but she was too frenzied, and could only touch and rub and clench at him, while Marty worked over her breast, still enclosed in her blouse.

His fevered brain wanted to touch skin-and realized that she was still wearing what she'd worn on their ride. He quickly unknotted the blouse and was thrilled to see that she was not wearing a bra. In fact, he was transfixed by the beauty of the large, firm teenage breasts laid bare before him.

Adoré pulled him to her, so she could feel the skin of his chest against the bare skin of hers. Then Marty pushed her back, so he could see and touch-and kiss and lick-the lovely flesh revealed to him.

Their passion soaring, their remaining clothing melted from their bodies, and Marty found himself kneeling between Adoré's widespread knees, as she tried to steer him into her.

Neither of them had much idea of what they were doing, except that their need was such that they'd have consummated their lust if all their parents were standing around them. When he felt himself in her entrance and Adoré removed her hand, Marty lunged forward, entering her rather brutally. Adoré's choked scream of anguish sort of brought him to his senses, and he stopped still where he was-firmly embedded within her, the head of his tool seated against her cervix.

"Sorry, Dory," he gasped. "I got carried away."

In her pain and passion, Adoré's brain carried the message that she needed, first, to reassure her man.

"It's OK, Marty," she panted. "Just hold still for a minute, until I get used to you."

Marty held as still as he could. It was all he could do to keep from shooting into her right then. The sensations he experienced were more exquisite than he had imagined in his wildest wet dreams. Of course, Adoré was more woman than any in his wildest wet dreams, too. Soon, his urgency eased and he was back in control of himself-a little bit.

Her pain receded and Adoré moved against him, testing the sensations she was feeling.

Marty backed out an inch, then moved in. Then again. And again.

Adoré was getting into it and felt the familiar rush of impending orgasm-except that this was not the result of fingers stroking herself at night. This was HER MAN, who had just made her a WOMAN. It was too much and, out of nowhere, her orgasm overwhelmed her. Gasping and flopping, Adoré came. And came again. And, when Marty moved in her, came yet again.

Her internal muscles spasmed too-it was all too much for a teenage boy. Marty spewed semen inside her like he was taking a leak. He'd never come like that. In the end, he collapsed, drained, on top of her. That was OK, because Adoré was mostly out of it, too, and enjoyed the solid feeling of his weight on her.

When he started to come back to reality, Marty realized he had come in her. Remorse and anxiety hit him like a hammer.

"Dory?" he said.

"Mmmmm?" she dreamily replied, nibbling on his neck.

"Dory. I'm sorry!"

"Why. Didn't you like me?"

"Not that. Dory... Pay attention!... Dory, I came in you."

"'s OK, Marty. I wanted you to."

"But... you might get pregnant!"

By now, she was alert enough to see that he was really concerned, although his cock was still embedded within her and, she could tell, was 'waking up' again.

Careful not to dislodge him, she moved her face back so he could look at her.

"Marty, relax. It's OK. You didn't do anything I didn't want. OK? And if I get pregnant, it's my own fault. But I don't think I will. It's the wrong time of the month. We're probably OK for another week, darling."

Her reassurances broke through his concern. Hearing that, one, they were safe from pregnancy and two, she wanted it, his old one-eyed snake woke up.

Adoré giggled. "Looks like you didn't do anything you didn't want to, either, lover." She rolled them over so that she was on top this time and pulled her knees up beside him. Bending over, she kissed him tenderly, while she moved her bottom up and down gently.

Neither of them was prepared for the sensations this created. Adoré was kissing the man she loved. Her nipples were abrading his chest, sending lustful messages up and down her body. And her vagina was firmly grasping her man, while his pelvic bone intermittently crushed her clitoris.

Marty was over-stimulated. He gasped for breath, then moved his hips to counter hers. In seconds, it seemed, he was spewing into her again.

Fortunately for them both, Adoré was on just as short a fuse.

The next thing either of them was aware of was the 'grand finale' of the fireworks display. With a sly grin, Adoré said, "I think you produced better fireworks than daddy bought, my love."

Marty didn't know quite how to handle the expression of endearment, but certainly concurred in the sentiment. "I was inspired by a goddess!"

"Good. Hold me?"

"Any time, Dory. Just any time at all," he said, gently clasping her limp body to his, while he kissed her with love, but not passion.

"Dory?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Does this mean... Ah... that you're my girl?"

"Do you want me to be your girl, Marty?"

"Ah... yeah... I guess I do..."

"Marty!"

"Huh?"

"Do you want me, or not?"

"Yeah, I want you. I'm not sure you want me..."

"Marty, lemme tell you something about girls... A girl only has one first time. It's an important thing for us-when we become women. You were my first... because I love you and I wanted to give you something only I could give you. That's important to me. I hope it was important to you."

"Yeah, Dory. You are my first, too. I didn't mean to do this, but I'm glad I did-if you're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well, I came in you, and didn't do anything about protection..."

"Marty. That's sweet. I'm glad you cared. From what my friends tell me, most guys wouldn't even give that a thought. I'm glad you came in me and I'm glad it was good for you. OK?"

"You're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad."

"Then it's OK... Dory? Would you be my girl? It's a lot to ask. I'm so far away, and don't get out here very often. Could you stand to wait for me?"

After a strong hug and a kiss that curled his toes, Adoré said, "Yes, Marty. I'll be proud to be your girl."

"I think I'd better work hard to get you to the ranch this Christmas..." Marty mused.

"I think you'd better. And you'd better get some rubbers when you're in town next. Because I think we both will need to do this often, so we will have memories for the cold, lonely winter nights coming up."

Marty hugged her strongly, then backed away, so he could look at her in the moonlight.

Adoré was well worth the look. Many teenage girls are beautiful, but she was flat-out stunning, with long chestnut hair, green eyes, aristocratic nose and cheekbones, and a figure already too developed to be a fashion model.

"God you're beautiful, Dory," he breathed. "... You're REALLY beautiful!"

Smiling shyly-after all, he was well and truly hooked now-she said, "You are too, Marty."

"Dory? I... I think... I think I'm in love with you..."

"That's good, Marty. I've been in love with you for a long time."

"You have?"

"Yes." A quiet affirmation of something she'd known for years.

"Dory, when I told you about guys being intimidated by your looks... You know I was talking about me, too."

"No need for you to be. You have me, if you want me. The looks are just part of the package."

"God, Dory. You're too much."

"I hope not. I hope I'm just enough. Enough to keep you happy and satisfied with me..."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"I hope not. You see, I've never even dated. I've been in love with a guy since before I was old enough to date, and wasn't interested. So I don't know how to keep a guy. I don't know all the games and tricks most girls use with guys."