I was twenty years old the first time I ever stroked and sucked a cock. He was my fiancΓ© at the time; now he is my husband. We'd known each other for ten months, five of those as friends, two as a dating couple. The last three, after becoming engaged, we were like two teenagers let loose on each other. He was twenty-three and hadn't dated until I came around. I was a virgin until I met him. I had dated some, not a lot. The dates I did have, involved some heavy petting on the man's part, but not mine. Looking back, I don't know what set off the spark to just throw caution to the wind so quickly between me and my fiancΓ©, but something did. Was it age? Curiosity? Desire? Lust? Yes, I think it was all of those things combined. Both of us were past our teens and we loved each other. We were engaged and became sexually active before we tried oral sex. It was a fast romance, but aren't many these days. Either way, my first blow job was pleasant, pleasant enough in fact, I still do it.
*****
The day was hot; it was the Summer of 1993. The windows on the car were down. He drove a Chrysler, something. I have no clue what it was, but I don't believe that really matters for this particular memory. I was wearing a skirt, a simple white one. I remember that vividly because it was his favorite thing to see me in. My blouse was pink and buttoned up the front.
We were on our way home from picking up a few items for my parents. I was sitting in the middle of the front seat, pressed against him. One of his hands was on the wheel, of course, the other was on my shoulder. His arm was draped across the seat. I was turned into him. My left arm was pressed to my side and my right hand was on his thigh. With my head resting against his chest, I studied his crotch. Soon my fingers moved up his jeans and over to the center of his slacks.
"Hey, you can't be doing that," he told me.
"What?" I asked, then chuckled as I slowly began to rub his cock through the denim of his jeans.
"That," he said. He shifted in his seat and I smiled wider. I looked up at him and blinked innocently.
"What?" I asked again. I rubbed harder and winked when I saw his jaw tighten.
"Stop now. I can't go into your parents' house with a hard-on," he said.
I ignored him and continued rubbing harder. I wasn't buckled in with the center strap so I turned in my seat and used both my hands to release the button of his jeans and ease the zipper down. "You have to stop when we drive past your Uncle's," he told me. I agreed and tucked myself back against his side.