It was 1958 and I had just graduated from high school. My step-father, a construction worker, had been divorced from my mother for several years. That summer he was working in a town a hundred miles away and, as usual, he was living out of a cheap motel room.

Donny, one of my high school buddies, was working on the same job and staying with John, so it was inevitable that I should drive over for a weekend visit.

I arrived on Friday evening to find a woman about my mother's age in the room with them. "Birdie" was an unattached regular that John had met at the local bar. This was not unusual, but, unknown to me, John had decided it was time that I should "get laid."

I had hardly said "hello" when John and Donny said they had to go look at a car, and then they'd be looking up a buddy, and would probably be gone for a few hours. So, John inquired, could I kinda "stick around" and keep the lady company until they got back? She seemed in no hurry to go anywhere, so I said "sure," feeling a bit uncertain but otherwise glad to kick back for a while as I had worked all day, and driven two hours to get there.

I knew nothing of John's little plan for my weekend, but what they didn't know was that they were too late: I had gotten lucky with a rancher's daughter at a Saturday night dance in the tiny mountain community where I worked at a Forest Service summer job. We did the deed on the bench seat of my '51 Chevy fastback sedan, parked in the dark shadows beside the forest service bunkhouse.

So, here we are, this older lady and me. I'm getting curious, and the room is getting smaller, and she's making small talk, and the beds are right there in front of us in this cramped, cheap room. She's walking around, messing with this and that and talking odds and ends about herself. She pulls out a smoke and fumbles like she needs a match. I stand up and light her cigarette; she smiles and moves against me and we put the hugs on each other. I get a big erection.

She is playing coy and telling me that I'm a nice boy, and I really shouldn't want to do this, and she shouldn't be fooling around, etc, etc. but she isn't stopping what's happening.

The more I rub against her and feel her small breasts against my chest, with her hair smelling good right under my nose, and feeling her holding herself against me "down there," the more my self is trying to stand at attention right through my jeans. It's getting hard to breathe. I figure she is testing to see if I'm serious about going farther with whatever seems to be getting started.

She reaches down between us and latches onto me with her hand and her face lights up like she just hit a jackpot. She makes a small "oooh" sound and heads for the bed, shucking off her blouse and skirt.

Birdie must have been 40, but it was hard to tell: people who spend their years at the bars age fast. She was was thin, even a little scrawny, with bony hands and a narrow face. I could see why they called her Birdie.

She's an experienced woman and I'm a 17-year-old kid with only that one "score" on my card, and the ink was still wet. Truthfully, it had been a clumsy car-seat affair, not even pretending at "finesse" and technique. That ranch daughter must have been watching the family bull service her father's brood cows all week, because it was her that put me down in the front seat as soon as we got ourselves untangled from slow dancing and made it out to my car. About the only credit I could claim was being ready when she was. Anyway,...

... this Birdie woman seemed to like what she was seeing when I started shucking my clothes. I had spent the last several years growing up in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, taking long walks in the hills with a .22 rifle, backpacking, cross-country skiing, and working summer jobs moving sprinkler pipes and stacking hay for the local ranchers. I was in good shape.

Birdie turns back the blanket and the sheets on one of the beds, and kills the light. The only light in the room is a streetlight glowing through the window curtains on the front wall. She lays herself out on the bed, wearing her panties.

I stretch out beside her. This all feels pretty awkward to me, but I peel her panties down and begin some fumbling finger work, which is about the only foreplay I know. She responds with some dry kisses. She sticks her pointy little tongue in my mouth. Soon, she grabs me "down there" and starts cramming me into her and pushing herself up against me.

In I go! It's slow and dry and uncomfortable, at first, but we persist and everything starts working just fine.

I move in and out of her about a dozen times and climax! She yelps and grabs onto me so hard I can't breathe. Her hips keep on pumping... !

I'm not about to give up on this, but I'm really angry with myself for shooting off so fast. I want this new experience of screwing to last for awhile. I and my buddies spent a lot of years speculating about sex, and here I am, the second time ever, and I just dumped it. I'm determined: even if I did just shoot my wad, this is not the time to quit. I figure John Henry is meant to be a hero; he'll have to keep swinging his hammer.

I keep going but it takes some pretty intense concentration because John Henry figures he's done his part, and he wants outta there, now! The bird-lady feels all loose and sloppy and wet sticky stuff is running everywhere between us, and I'm thinking, "Oh man, what a mess this is!"

I'm rocking along in the saddle and John Henry is screaming in my head to give it a rest, but I close my eyes and think hard on what we're doing and I mentally urge him along and the wet sticky mess has kinda dispersed and soon everything is working okay again. It seemed like it took me forever to get back into "form" but it must have been much faster than that, because the bird-woman's eyes open wide, and she's saying, "Honey! Are you going again?!?" and I feel her start humping back, hard!

She hasn't shown any signs of climaxing, and I figure my obligation is to be sure that she gets off too, so I keep at it, liking it now, but the way she is ramming herself up at me is starting to hurt.