Every man remembers his first time. That first access to the warm juices of a woman's secret place. In spite of my forty or so years in my present business, that first time, and its consequences will live with me forever. Because that first time was the point at which my future life was changed forever.
For one thing, I had waited so long, being such a shy, mother-dominated eighteen year old on the fringe of going to University seeking a business degree. I'd had little real experience of the opposite sex. A brief touch of Teresa Wilson's left breast through her thick cardigan before she knocked my hand away, was as good as it got.
Females had always turned me into a quivering jelly. I just didn't feel comfortable with the demands that might be placed upon me. Even my nocturnal hand jobs were completed with feelings of unbridled guilt.
I'd heard all the bragging of my schoolmates. ‘They just lie there, and you stick it in, Mike. It's easy.’ I was wise enough to know that much of their talk was fable. The wishful thinking of sex-starved youth in most cases. And it seemed to me that I was just too shy to ever find out what made a woman a woman.
This was many years ago, back in the days we now call innocent times. Which means that girls were more determined to keep it for some future husband. That's the way they were brought up.
But then Vic Summers and his wife, Sadie, moved into our street, just two doors away. And I was on the verge of an education which I could never even have dreamed about. Lessons that would change my sexual confidence, and would set me up for the rest of my life. The making of a stud. From the distance of a near half century, I can look back and recall my first time with all the clarity of it being just yesterday. Because, oh my, what a time it was.
It all started when I heard the wail of Benny Goodman's clarinet coming from the new neighbour's back door. I loved Goodman and all the big bands.
Vic Summers came out, thin ginger hair, a drawn pale face, but smiling as he noticed my foot tapping. "Like the big bands?" he asked me.
"They're great," I mumbled.
"Why not come over tonight? I've got hundreds of records in my collection."
Nervously I turned up that night and Vic greeted me with a glass of orange juice before we settled on the floor of their neat little sitting room and listened to the shivering glissando of trombone, the high pitched tremolo of clarinet. And that's when Sadie swayed into the room, and suddenly the rhythms were all in my heart
Tall, slender, as delicate as a rain-kissed rose, she swayed across the room. A blue silken dress clung to every curve of her body, and every curve was undulating with sinuous abandon. A heady perfume of lavender and something else exuded from her as she nodded in my direction.
"So, you're the young neighbour? A handsome young man. I'll bet the girls are mad for you."
Totally in awe, I nodded my head. Did I say the rhythms were all in my heart? Well, very rapidly they were moving deeper so that I had to hold my hands over my groin to hide what was happening there.
Her sensuous movement hypnotised me. Those churning hips, the wobble of breast under the silky fabric of her dress and the flashing legs that seemed to go on forever.
Vic was happy to share his music with me any evening I wanted. And yes, the music was exciting, but feeling myself bathed by Sadie's sultry glances, the flowing grace of that body, they became the real attractions. I was in love, immediate and irrevocably, content with just looking, but then---
That special summer day came around when I was lingering at the gate between our back gardens hoping for another invite from Vic, when Sadie floated out, dressed in tight sweater and tighter pants. Blue seemed to be her colour.
"Oh, Mike, how lovely to see you." Her wide blue eyes, the swing and sway of her body, sent all kinds of electrics through me. The intimacy of her smile only added colour to my burning cheeks. "Vic won't be home tonight. His job, you know"
Before the full weight of disappointment could hit me she went on, "But you can still come and listen to the music---- " And she paused, the languorous smile playing on her full mouth, the eyes going cloudy, before adding, "---if you want."
Had I misread her looks, her tone of voice? It couldn't be that way, could it? I was imagining an impossible promise, wasn't I?
Shy I may have been but I found myself exhilarated by the mere proximity of her. The prospect of being close to her. That night, I had the longest bath I've ever had. Brushed my hair into what I imagined was a delicate quiff and coated my body in so much talc that I had to sneak out in case my mother questioned my perfumed presence.
Sadie answered my tentative knock at the back door almost immediately, and my eyes must have bulged at the sight of her dressed in a peach coloured, long silken robe open at the neck to reveal a tantalising valley between her gently rising breasts. Long tawny hair, cascaded to her shoulders.
“My you smell lovely, Mike."
I was tempted to say, "So do you," as her lavender perfume invaded my nostrils. But words simply choked in my constricted throat.
Music was already on the record player and I recognised Harry James Trumpet Blue and Cantabile. "You like this one, don’t you?" she said, walking ahead of me into the sitting room, fascinating me with the metronome ticking of her firm buttocks under the silk.
She directed me to the sofa, as I noticed that the curtains were closed, which seemed strange on a bright summer evening. I sat, as she swayed for a moment, every inch of her body seeming to be alive and transmitting bolts of lightning into my dumb adolescent psyche.
The music changed, Glen Miller, softer, more romantic. She stood for a moment over me, and my eyes tried not to look at the slight parting in her negligee and the darkly shadowed something beyond. Why hadn't she dressed? Did she know I could see? I raised my head and she was smiling. She knew where I was looking. Then she sat down beside me, close. Closer than I could have ever dreamed.
“Tell me about your girlfriends, Mike." she breathed. Her perfume was something I thought I was going to drown in.
What could I say? Teresa Wilson's clothed left breast apart, my only experience had been flat punctured kisses at parties and listening to the garish stories of my schoolmates.
“Not much to tell," I admitted.
“Do you like me?"
“Y--yes. You're-----nice." And it sounded so crummy, I could have curled up and died.
“You're a lovely young man, Mike---" My mind was saying, ‘And you’re a married woman.’
She went on, "You know Vic and I have been very happy----but you must have noticed how weak he looks---it's the disease--- a wasting thing. He can't do-------anything." And her pause made me look up into those eyes, even more sultry in the dim light.
“Would you like to kiss me, Mike?"
A kiss? A kiss was more than I could have hoped for, wasn't it? She was leaning towards me and the gown had parted to reveal more of those two creamy mounds. My basic instinct was to run like hell. But like a switch had been pushed, there was a sudden bulge in my best flannel trousers.
"Mmm," was all I could manage, as her full red lips moved close, and I tried desperately to catch my breath. The lips brushed across mine, briefly, gently. Was that it? Then her hand was on the back of my neck and her mouth covered mine just as I opened it to clutch in some air.
Next second her tongue was lapping over mine. Briefly shocked I was then filled with wonder at the electricity of it. The sheer sensation, my whole mouth was a-tingle. I leaned into it, dizzily, fearing I might faint at the intensity of it. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this.
Compared with those tight-lipped party kisses this was pure bliss, as Sadie's tongue explored my own, tracing around the insides of my cheeks. My hands trembled. Nervous as I was, I felt disappointment when she drew away. Then I saw that one of her breasts had come totally free and I was gazing at it. Tits, that's what the kids called them. But not this beautifully rounded, full, smooth hillock with its subtle pink ring tipped by a delicate nub of a nipple. This was a breast, a real, living succulent breast.
“Touch it, Mike."
Amazed at the invitation, I looked into her eyes. Was I dreaming? Was this luscious married woman actually giving me, a gawky young virgin, permission to touch her breast?”
“Please, Mike."
I raised trembling fingers and the tips traced the elegant slope from nipple to the base of her throat. Feeling a little bolder I allowed my fingers to smooth their way around the whole curving surface. The tightness in my pants increased.
“Now the nipple, Mike. With that same touch. You have a lovely touch."
I was scared senseless. Yet enjoying it at the same time. I reached out and tentatively ran my fingers over the hard, small nipple and heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry," I mumbled, jerking my hand away.
“No, no. That was perfect, Mike. Again. A little harder." I'd wake up soon. But the pressure in my groin told me that I wasn't dreaming. I allowed my whole hand to settle over her breast, smoothing it, letting each finger trace over the nipple.
“Oh, you've done this before, haven’t you?" she sighed huskily.
“No, never." I didn't even think of lying.
“Kiss it, Mike." What? Blood pounded in my head and in my cock.
“Take the nipple in your mouth, tongue it"
I lowered my head nervously. "Like this?" I asked, before putting my lips around the enlarged nipple.
“Tongue, Mike. Use your tongue."
Emboldened I did that. I couldn't believe the pleasure of it. My mouth could have swallowed her whole. I found myself sucking without even thinking about it.
She was breathing more heavily. "You're sure you've never done this before?”
“Never," I said. "But it's nice." That stupid useless word again. It was more than just nice. I was on some magic cloud.
Briefly, guiltily I thought of Vic, but then her hands closed on either side of my face lifted me, and her mouth fastened on mine again. Her tongue slithered over mine, sending shock waves through my whole being.
One hand closed over my right hand and moved it down, tracing it over the delightful flatness of her belly, the silkiness of her gown until my fingers sloped downwards to detect a sudden roughness under the silk. She made an agitated movement and the silk was gone and my fingers discovered the roughness had been a mound of soft hair.
My head was pounding. I couldn't expect this, this was the ultimate, this was a woman's secret place, her special gift. My hand froze, uncertain of how to proceed. All I knew was there should be an opening among this fuzziness.
Her lips left mine and she whispered, "Go on, Mike. Touch me there."
Without daring to look down at what I was doing I let my untrained fingers grope around the hairs. Where was it? Where was that secret opening?
I felt her legs moving apart and her mouth close to my ear breathed, "Lower, Mike. Follow the groove."
Groove? Yes, my middle finger found an indentation. Tracing it, I found lips that seemed to be swelling under my touch, and there was moistness between her thighs. Was that all right? I hesitated my stroking.
“Mmmmm," Sadie breathed close to my ear. "My weakness. Don’t stop Push deeper. Find my spot."
This groove ran all the way to the back. But all that wetness, my fingers ran deep between those soaked lips. I drew them back and forward again. Aware now of her laboured breathing, almost panting. On one forward movement, there was a parting of the trench and there was something small and hard, like a miniature nipple under my fingers. But no hole----where was that opening?
"Oh, God, that's marvellous. Don’t stop. That's it. There. Oh, Jesus. Yes. Probe, Mike." I seemed to be too far back when without warning my middle finger sank into a wet pit, so far back that it took me by surprise. I pushed and my finger sank right in. I let another finger join it and prodded them both upwards and inwards.
Sadie was panting and gasping, kissing my face, my hair, my ears, tonguing into my mouth. "Oh, God, yes. Oh, God "
I couldn't believe how ignorant I had been. Even more, I was taken aback by her reaction to my amateur administrations. How could this glory hole be set so far back? And that was when I felt Sadie's hand on my thigh, on my bulge. Oh, hell, I wasn't sure about this. Nobody had touched me there. Not since I was a baby anyway. But I wanted it and didn't, both at the same time. No woman had seen my cock, not in that enlarged state. Not in any state.