May 31st of 1960 marked both my nineteenth birthday and the end of my freshman year of college. That night was the last Debbie and I would spend together until fall. Tomorrow, she'd get on the train back to Chicago for the summer, and I'd drive back to Mom and Dad's on the outskirts of White House, Tennessee.
We had dinner at Mel's and ended up in the parking lot at her dorm. I knew Debbie would never agree to sex in my car. She was firm about sex before marriage, but at least we could kiss and do some heavy petting. She enjoyed it when I stroked her breasts and nipples, and when she was really excited, she'd let me slip my hand under her skirt and touch the satin-soft skin between the top of her stockings and her cotton panties.
That night, I went through my usual routine of deep kisses, unhooking her bra, and fondling her breasts. Debbie wasn't very big. Her breasts were two small mounds topped with little nipples that quickly hardened when I touched them. I pulled her sweatshirt up and kissed one of the little wrinkled bumps. Debbie moaned.
In a few minutes, I let my hand fall to her knee and slowly worked my way up. The slick nylon ended and I touched the soft skin of her inner thigh. Debbie pulled my face into her breast, opened her legs, and slid lower in the seat. I got brave and ventured higher. The soft curls of her pubic hair under her panties were springy under my fingertips. After a little gentle rubbing, I slipped my fingertip lower and waited for some reaction. Debbie didn't pull away, so I slipped the finger lower, then lower, until I felt her lips through the panties. After a couple of minutes of gentle touching I felt her panties getting damp. Debbie was breathing heavily. I sucked her small nipple in my mouth, and pulled back gently. She gasped and grabbed my hand.
"Oh God, Gary. Quit. If you keep this up, I won't be able to stop, and I just can't do this. You understand, don't you?"
I said I did, and we spent the last half-hour just hugging and kissing. At five 'til ten Debbie fastened the hooks on her bra and arranged her sweatshirt. I walked her to the door of the dorm, kissed her one last time, and drove back to my own dorm to pack. We'd promised to write back and forth over the summer.
By noon the next day, I was cruising through Nashville on the way to Mom and Dad's. Ours was a big house that had once been the home of a well-to-do farm family. As the city limits had expanded, the farm had been subdivided, and there were houses on both sides and across the street. When I turned into the drive, it felt good. I had three months to work for college money and relax before hitting the books again.
There was a two-story carriage house in back that was left over from the horse and buggy days. Half of the upper floor had been used for hay storage, and half for the groom's quarters. The groom's quarters were small, with only a living area and a bedroom. When I graduated from high school, Dad put a bathroom in one corner of the bedroom, installed a small stove and refrigerator and let me move in. It was his way of saying I was grown up, I guess.
I had always dreamed that my first place would have a panoramic view of a lake, the ocean, or the mountains. Instead, my single bedroom window had a small view of the neighbor's house and back yard. When I considered the rent, which was only that I mow the grass once a week, it seemed like trading mountains for a small house and a vegetable garden was a good compromise. Besides, I wasn't home much during the day, so I seldom looked out that window anyway.
That summer in the carriage house started off normal enough. I stocked the kitchenette with snacks and sodas, made the bed, and made sure the TV worked. On Monday morning, I started working for Jim Cravens, a local farmer. There was always something to do on a farm, and Jim liked me. Just as I'd done last summer, I'd be helping him with his crops, cattle and hogs. It was hard work, but it paid pretty well and I got a killer tan by being outside most of the time.
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When I drove home from Jim's that night, I saw a woman mowing the yard in front of the neighbor's house. According to Mom, the older couple who owned it had retired to Florida, and the house had been sold in April. It was a small house, so I figured this must be the wife of a young couple who couldn't afford anything more.
That night, I ate dinner with Mom and Dad, and asked about our new neighbors. I knew Mom would have met them by now.
"Oh, that's Louise Green, and she lives there by herself. You probably don't remember her. She's five years older than you are, I believe. She married one of the Green boys, Mitchell, I think it was, and they moved to St. Louis. From what I hear, he had an affair with a woman from work, and Louise caught them. She divorced him and moved back here to be close to her folks. It's a shame. I always said those Green boys were trouble. Needed some good whippings when they were little, they did. She was such a nice girl, too. A little on the wild side, sometimes, but she was nice."
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The next morning, the alarm went off at my usual time of five, and I rolled out of bed. On my way to the bathroom, I noticed a light through the bedroom window. It was coming from the neighbor's house. I'd never been in that house, but I knew it had to be the bathroom window because the bottom pane was frosted glass. From my high point of view, I could see through the clear, upper pane. What I saw made me step back from the window and just peek around the curtain.
I knew she was older than I was, but she didn't really look that much older, and she was naked. At least, I figured she was naked. I could only see her breasts and part of her belly. She was standing in front of the mirror brushing her long, blonde hair. When she raised her arms to reach the top of her head, her breasts rose up on her chest, and her large, dark nipples stuck out. I'd never seen breasts like those. Well, I'd only seen two other women's naked chests before. I'd caught Mom running from the living room one day when I walked in the house unexpectedly. Dad was in the process of zipping his fly and had a stupid look on his face. And, of course, I'd seen Debbie.
Mom's boobs were pretty saggy, or so it seemed to me compared to the women I'd seen in men's magazines. I didn't get a chance to see more than a glance of her nipples before she disappeared into their bedroom. Debbie's breasts were firm cones that stuck straight out from her chest and her nipples were small and pale. This woman had large, round breasts with dark circles around the nipples. I could tell they were heavy, but they didn't hang down like Mom's. They moved when she moved, with a soft, rolling motion. That motion was exciting to watch, and it was exciting me. Without realizing it, I had started stroking my cock. Just before she walked out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of a waist that blended into high, firm, butt cheeks. That was enough. I closed my eyes, remembered those breasts and jacked off into my hand.
That night, I sat in the dark by that window until ten, but her bathroom light didn't come on. The light that I supposed was in the bedroom did, but there were heavy curtains on the windows, and I couldn't see anything. I fell asleep thinking about those breasts. I didn't see her again until that Saturday.
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