It was sixty years ago, so the social and sexual codes were as different from those of today as a bunny rabbit is different from a water buffalo. I was barely eighteen, and as innocent as a newborn lamb. This girl, whom I'll call 'Janice' (not her name), was already experienced. She was a year older than I, and had had at least two lovers before me. She knew what she wanted and how to go about getting it.
She got me alone and we began kissing, and it grew heavier and steamier. I was starting to get aroused, and getting a stiffie. I tried not to let her know, for I thought that girls—or almost all girls—were "sweet and nice," and wouldn't even want sex until they were thoroughly married. "Sugar and spice, and everything nice."
But she knew. She didn't have to feel it rising against her belly, straining at the cloth of my trousers. She knew because she knew. Without breaking the kisses, she put her hand down and stroked my erection through the cloth. Stroked and stroked and stroked. Then she broke the hot wet kiss and, without saying a word, she made a big show of dropping her panties, stepping out of them slowly, and tossing them aside with a kind of dismissive gesture. She stroked her crotch with her palm, and then again with one finger.
I was speechless and powerless, astounded and scared half to death. I couldn't move. But Janice knew exactly how to handle me. She unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my fly, slowly, one button at a time. I was trembling, unable to react. I wanted her to stop, but I wanted her. And she knew. She knew how badly I wanted her.
"Wait," I said. "What if your roommate Patsy comes back?"
But Janice was single-minded. "Never mind her. She won't come back for a while." She put a finger inside her pussy and began to work it up and down.
Then she pushed me down on the bed and whipped off my Jeans and shorts in one quick, smooth move. She slithered onto the bed beside me, drew her skirt up above her waist, and began kissing me again, even more passionately. Both our faces were wet.
She put two fingers inside her slit and worked her pussy faster and faster. What I didn't know was that she was getting herself wet and ready. Then she pulled me over on top of her and slid under me, but she kept her legs clamped tight together. She began to raise her hips and rock her bottom, so that my tool slid between her thighs, just below the crack of her vagina. I can still remember the feel of the friction of her pussy hair against my pecker. I didn't know then that it was hair, but it drove me to a frenzy.
I was burning with both lust and shame. I think I may have tried to pull away. But she had me in a tight hold, and she put my hand on her breast. The she opened her thighs and I slid right into her, all the way. I banged against her cervix as my testicles slapped the cheeks of her butt.
That was it! Lust crowded shame aside. I plunged into her. I thrust and thrust and thrust deep into her, hitting her cervix with every plunge.
It didn't last long. I came in less than two minutes. It was a powerful orgasm, like nothing I had ever felt before. Every nerve in my body was concentrated in my peter for that minute or so, and I flooded her with cream and collapsed on top of her body.
"That was too quick," she said. "Is that all you've got?"
I said, "It was like being shot, that's how quick it was."
