t was a very hot Thursday in Tennessee in late August. I was sweating, my t-shirt and shorts were soaked and I was very thirsty. I was mowing the lawn for a woman who lived about 4 miles from the campus of the small Christian college I attended, something I had done for the last 2 years, starting late in my freshman year and continuing on now while just starting my junior year. It was a good job for me, not taking too much time from my studies, getting me outdoors and she paid me well enough I would not starve to death. The food on campus was mostly appalling.
My employer had me do all manner of things around her yard. She loved flower gardens and had 3 separate areas that needed constant weeding, watering and care. I mowed her lawn, which was a 2 acre rectangle, kept the long pavered driveway free of weeds, and essentially whatever other chores she came up with on any given day. Her ex-husband was an architect and had been involved in the design of severable notable skyscrapers in the Houston area, pictures of which I had seen. They were quite impressive structures, one 56 stories and featured in several magazines. The house was one he had designed and was of a modern style, unlike all of the surrounding homes.
He and Glenda had been divorced for two years however, after he had apparently had an affair, something which Glenda let slip one afternoon about a year ago. She did not talk much about her personal life with me and of course, why should she? She treated me well, but other than coming out a few times to show me how to do something or spur me on to work faster when I was slouching from the heat, we did not interact a great deal.
My work ethic was actually good but I still could find myself moving at a glacial pace in the heat and humidity of a late Tennessee summer. I decided it was time for a drink. I rode my bike to her house each workday in spite of having an old Dodge Aspen I inherited from my mother. Typically, Glenda had me work Tuesdays and Thursdays and if she wanted something extra done, I would also work an occasional Saturday. I had a cooler I kept on my bike with drinks and headed over.
Standing in the shade for a minute and opening a bottle of cheap club soda, I noticed the gate to the pool was open slightly. Glenda's husband had built a very nice pool with an outdoor kitchen and hot tub. I had on occasion seen Glenda use it on the days I was working but she always managed to come and go from there to the house without me seeing her. In my interactions with her, she was either dressed nicely like she was going out to shop or she was in baggy clothes, so though I thought she was a very pretty lady with a lovely face, I did not know what her body looked like, something I certainly thought of from time to time. As I drank my water, I thought back to my first sexual experience in college.
When I left home for college, I had only been on 2 dates and both were more or less disasters in my mind. In spite of being fairly outgoing and having a variety of friends both at church and at school, my parents firmly discouraged dating, saying it could lead to fornication and other sins. When the 18 year old daughter of one our church members got caught in her house having sex with her boyfriend and then found out she was pregnant, it was a scandal on the scale of Watergate in our little world. The girl and the family were ostracized and ended up leaving the church.
My parents always reminded me and my siblings of this and the oppressive atmosphere at home became even more so. As the baby in the family, I learned from my siblings that once you left home, make whatever plans were necessary to never go back. We loved our parents and they worked hard to take care of us but their strict rules were suffocating. Therefore, all of us learned to get jobs even while in school and save money like we had to buy our way out of the gulag.
None of their rules however, prevented any of us children from responding the prodding our our hormones and pursuing the opposite sex. I am convinced had my parents known what our thoughts were, what we read about, and what we talked about amongst ourselves and our friends, they would have immediately had fatal cerebral infarctions. I could not wait to find a girl that was willing to sexually experiment with me. When I drove off for college, I stopped at the first town I had never been to before and drove to a drug store where I bought a couple of packages of condoms. Hope springs eternal!
My experiences thus far at college however, had not resulted in the opportunity to tear open one of those little foil packages. In the 2 years I had been here, I had one girl come on to me heavily. She was slightly plump for my tastes but had a pretty face. She was a bit cloying and perhaps slightly annoying as well, but I gave the relationship my best shot. We went to some movies together and out to eat a couple of times as well. I was always a gentleman, opening doors, letting her talk and letting her set the pace.
Her name was Tina and one night after eating dinner on campus and going to the campus movie, we left the film and went walking on campus. To my surprise that night, she led me not back to her dorm but to the baseball field on the far side of campus and then across the road to an abandoned retail store. In the back of the store, a yard surrounded by a fence, she led me to place where the fencing was separated from the pole and we went inside the yard. There were two fold up chairs leaning against the wall and she opened one up.
Turning to me, she said very matter of factly, "I want to kiss you."
On campus, public displays of affection were prohibited and getting caught could actually lead to expulsion, so all of my friends had to find ways to be with their girls out of sight. I had not heard of this place as being on anyone's list of make out spots. I felt very safe however, as we had not passed a soul on our journey here.
As my dick began to harden in my pants at the thought of kissing Tina, I said, "I would like to kiss you too. I have for a long time," I said somewhat breathily as my heart was racing.
With considerable lack of finesse and considerable excess of awkwardness, we managed to get our lips together. I must confess, that in spite of bumping heads and bruising our lips, we managed to make that first kiss last at least 20 seconds. I decided to try and help things out by taking her hips in my hands and pulling her closer, making the deed considerably safer and more enjoyable. We experimented for another ten minutes, both using our hands on each other to steady ourselves.
This was the first time I had really kissed a girl and I was liking it a lot. She smelled good and she had put some kind of strawberry lip balm on which I had completely cleaned off of her. We pulled each other closer and I felt her rather substantial rack pressing into my chest and the song, 'Night Moves' by Bob Seger started playing in my head, especially the line about "points of her own, way up firm and high.' My focus at this point was on the sexual part of the relationship and my cock was already aching.
With our hands at each other's backs, neither of us having gone groping, Tina pulled back and said softly, "This is nice. I have never kissed a boy before, but I have wanted to for a long time."
"It is my first kiss too. I tired before," I said with a bit of a smirk, "But it did not work out so well for me."
I had taken a slap to the face for my effort with a girl from church in my senior year and lived in fear of her telling her parents who would tell my parents who would kill me in my eighteenth year of life. Thank God, she never did. I assume.
"You can try again," Tina said quickly. We kissed some more, becoming, at least in my head, somewhat more skilled at it.
My hands decided on their own to explore new territory and though my brain tried to hinder them, they overcame the inhibitions and found their way to her ass. In so doing, I pulled her closer, a handful of her very firm and delightful cheeks in each hand. This had the unintended consequence of bringing our groins into full contact. This was contact I immediately enjoyed as my jean covered erection pressed against her thin, cotton, knee length dress.
She immediately stopped kissing me and my brain instantaneously stoked the fires of fear, and almost as quickly put the flames out when she whispered to me, "That feels nice. Both sides. I am guessing you like what you feel?"
That question was delivered with a bit of hesitancy, perhaps because, as she had previously hinted, she had some self image issues because of her weight (she was 152 lbs and 5 foot 5).
"I am loving what I feel, Tina. You are beautiful and you have a great butt, if you will pardon me for saying so."
"Thank you. I am liking what I am feeling too," she said somewhat demurely.
