Chapter 1

I was a 13 year old eighth grader when Rachel Stone decided that it might be fun to turn my life and world upside down. She snuck up on me and caught me unawares. By the time I really had it figured out, what she was up to, she was already going steady with Aaron Cantor and I'd missed my chance to really sample her ample charms. Rachel wasn't just an ordinary girl, she was the "IT" girl of Buckley Junior High School in 1957. Every year there is that one girl that has "IT" head and shoulders above the rest. That year, Rachel had "IT" in spades. She looked better, walked sexier, laughed prettier and smelled finer than anyone else around. I once heard a friend of mine say of her: "I'd bite her ass and to hell with lockjaw." I wasn't sure what it meant, but I found myself nodding in agreement. Many girls can and do look gorgeous, but very few ever approach a single minute of perfection. Rachel stayed perfect for several consecutive months between September of 1957 and February of 1958.

When I talk about perfect, I'm only talking about the physical, cosmetic gifts, because Rachel didn't necessarily score well in some of the other categories, like personality and intellect. She wasn't stupid, but she was a little bit slow. She could act all sweet and nice, but that was just acting on her part, and because she was slow, she would sometimes forget who it was she was being nice to at that particular moment, and slip up. If you've read this far, I bet you're thinking that this story sounds like sour grapes from a jilted suitor or a disappointed boyfriend. If that's what you're thinking, you'd be very wrong. In the first place, I never chased after her, and in the second place there was no disappointing of boyfriends when Rachel was the girlfriend.

I was born at Lawrence Memorial Hospital in New London, Connecticut, and named James Francis Murphy on July 22, 1944, but everybody always called me Jimbo. There were quite a few people named James in my family. My hair was black and curly and I had blue eyes with long black lashes. A lot of people in my family were always talking about how I was so good looking, but I'll be honest and tell you I couldn't see it. My older brother Danny, now he was good looking and had girls hanging off of him from the time he was ten or eleven. I was tall though, and I used to shovel a lot of snow in the winter and mow a bunch of lawns every summer, so I had some nice muscles. My shoulders were wider than my hips, which gave me a "V" shaped torso since my waist was also narrow. Because my legs were so strong from all the work and running I did, my butt was muscular too and stuck out a ways. I remember getting patted on my butt quite a few times when I was a kid, mostly by older ladies, but sometimes by young girls too. I guess I liked the attention, because I never told anyone to quit doing it. One other thing is that I went through puberty at an early age. By the time I turned twelve I had some hair on my chest as well as under my arms and in my groin area. My penis stopped growing by the time I got to be thirteen, and I'm glad that it did.

I had known Rachel only since the seventh grade because we lived a good distance away from each other and she went to a different elementary school than I did. We didn't say much to each other in seventh, probably because she didn't get too interested in guys until after she sprouted those boobs over the summer before eighth grade started. In the seventh grade she had a great butt and nice legs, but just two little bumps on her chest. In seventh grade Mandy Rice was the "IT" girl. She had perfect knockers for part of the year, but by March of the seventh grade, they were too big, and several other girls had passed her by in the looks department. In eighth grade she had complexion problems and her ass was getting too big as well. Mandy was nice to everybody when she was the "IT" girl, and so she remained popular with the boys even after the bloom on her rose was faded and was only a distant memory for her.

Rachel had a party over at her house the Saturday after the first week of school. She got to invite three other girls and four boys and it was going to be a dance party in her basement. Everyone who was invited was told to bring three of their favorite records to dance to. I was surprised that I was one of the boys invited, but I accepted at once and went home all excited to talk to my brother Danny. Danny was always getting invited to parties at girls houses. He was sixteen, three and a half years older than me, and had lots of experience with girls. After I told him about the invitation he let me borrow three of his best records, a Chuck Berry fast record and two Elvis Presley slow records. He gave me plenty of good tips about what to say to a girl and how to act. His theory was to let the girl make the first move, expressing some interest, and then he'd get aggressive until they made him back off and stop. He said the beauty of that technique was that the girl had to stop you. If she didn't, you just kept on going. According to him, quite a few girls never got around to stopping you until you were done. It worked for him, but I already told you that he was real good looking, and I think that must have helped him out. His technique didn't work for me, and I never met the girl who'd let me steamroll her the first time we got together.