This is part one of a two part story separated by eight years. The reason I link them together is that they took place with the same person, my girlfriend who later became my wife and because there are some similarities in what took place chiefly the fact that on both occasions, (and on those two occasions only), I set a personal record.
I know that sounds crass, but that occasion is one of several things that I look back in my life which still make me feel warm, certain incidents when I played sports, a fight I was once in, something good that happened at work. I occasionally replay events like these in my head and they're all very special moments to me.
I'm not sure what other people count as making love but as far as I am concerned it means ejaculation, or the act of cumming inside or over a woman. I know that's an old fashioned man's viewpoint but once you start counting anything else the water gets very muddy. I suppose you could chalk one on the scoreboard if the woman comes first, providing it was done whilst shagging, and you didn't come as well but how often does that happen? And how could you be sure?
I'd like to think that I'm beyond counting now and that I no longer use my wife as a dartboard but every now and again there are times when I feel the need to prove that there's still some fight in the dog and we have what we still call "a bit of a session". This tends to be a holiday thing or maybe a school day when we've both taken a day off work.
Anyway, back in 2002 I started what my mother described as a "proper job". I had left school at 18 after passing my A Levels and I had done several things for a year, not all of which was paid work. I then found a job in my home town as a trainee underwriter with an insurance company.
Three months later I was informed that a new girl was starting on Monday doing much the same as me and she would be sitting alongside me to learn the few menial tasks that I had mastered so far.
Christine duly arrived and I was instantly attracted to her. She was eighteen, a year younger than me, 5ft 7ins tall with dirty blonde hair and a pretty, rather than gorgeous, face. She had a wholesome, scrubbed look and a lovely even tan. Her breasts were slightly smaller than I would have liked and her bum was slightly bigger than I would have liked, but other than that she was almost perfect (for me).
I quickly discovered that she was quite classy (compared to me), with semi-wealthy parents who lived in an expensive detached house less than a mile from my humbler dwelling. Her clothes always looked as if she had just taken them out of the wrapper and whenever I sneaked a peep down the front of her blouse she was always wearing the whitest, laciest brassiere that I had ever seen.
Unfortunately she was already spoken for and she seemed to be in a very happy relationship with someone called Simon. That did not stop me from working my unsubtle charms on her, which, in that foolish way that boys have in the presence of girls that they like, meant that I would gently abuse her and take the mickey out of every item of clothing and hair style that she chose to wear.
She must have enjoyed the attention because six weeks later she had found me sufficiently good company to allow me to walk home from work with her each evening and a few weeks after that she had ditched Simon and was going out with me.
Now I'm not known as a fast mover so I made a slow graduation from doorstep kisses to doorstep fumblings and sometime later I was invited into her home for a late night coffee which culminated in a hasty and silent shag on her parent's expensive sofa.
Settee and carpet shagging soon became the order of the day but there was always the fear of her parents appearing downstairs which tended to inject some excitement into the proceedings. As a precaution Christine would take her bra off and put her blouse back on and she would also leave her underskirt on so that my spunk didn't mark the sofa. I used to leave my socks and shirt on for a quick escape but the effect of this was that I inevitably looked ridiculous when I would have much preferred to look masterful.
Some of the things that Christine suggested and the way that she adopted certain positions left me with a lingering suspicion that she was no stranger to cock. She was well brought up sure enough, but some of the well brought up girls in my old sixth form had had similar tendencies. For my part, although I was as red blooded as any other nineteen year old male, I was actually a bit of an amateur in the shagging game. I was part of a footballing, drinking, brawling crowd of lads and although I'd had a few short-lived girlfriends and a few shags I had never had a full-on sexual relationship with a girl before and I was determined that this was not going to become apparent to Christine.
Less than a month after our first date Christine's parents announced that they were going to the Lake District for the Easter weekend. Christine informed me of this and suggested that I might want to spend some time at her place and I offered no resistance. In fact I began my preparations. Only a week earlier a girl from work had left to get married. Some of the other girls dressed her up in a crepe paper wedding dress and she was given a variety of presents. Traditionally one of the presents was always a cardboard box of miscellaneous marital aids. As this was an insurance company there was nothing too lewd but in amongst the "wedding gifts" was a willie warmer, some nipple tassels, a pair of fur handcuffs, a giant chocolate knob, some condoms, a surgical rubber ring (for sitting on) and an elderly paperback guide to lovemaking.