Loading...Everybody has their first times. For most of my peers, it was with a girlfriend, or just some chick at a party. But for boys like me — awkward, gawky, cute and complete buffoons — first times are perhaps even better than a fumble in the back seat of a beat-up car past 11 on a school night.
I was a late bloomer. But by the summer of 1990, I had come into my own physically. Much of my chubbiness had disappeared into a taut physique. And for the first time in my life, I looked good in form fitting pants.
I was still shy — a complete bumbling idiot in truth — with girls my own age, even at eighteen. Sure, some started to pay attention to me, but my ego, after years of abuse and teasing, was so fragile that I’d never venture to pursue anyone. I was too used to being hurt.
I was young, rich with deviant fantasies and a sex drive pushing the limits of decency, but with no prospects beyond videos and magazines. Then came spring break, 1990. While most of my friends got opportunities to head out to orgiastic beach outings, I was stuck working at a local video store for extra pocket money.
It wasn’t bad work, really. The store was locally owned, so the atmosphere was laid back and fun. Plus, being a movie buff, I got to shine with the customers, people who would specifically ask to see me for suggestions on their weekend rentals.
I particularly made a splash with a very nice couple in their late 40s who were regulars on Saturday nights just before closing. Martha and Manny were especially fond of the adult section — the area of the store cloistered behind jutting walls and a small curtain that most of the hoity-toity customers in my town refused to be seen. But Martha and Manny were quite fond of xxx movies, and came to me regularly for advice.
Somehow, I fooled them, or so I thought, into thinking I was some kind of porn connoisseur. Nothing could probably be further from the truth. I had rented a few movies since I got the video store job. The owner gave a blind eye to my rental habits: Two popular, mainstream movies with a unidentified tape sandwiched between the two. As long as it was back by the next morning, the owner could have cared less.
Martha particularly stirred my teenage desires. She looked much younger than her video account stated, with sand-colored blond hair, hazel eyes and freckles. She wasn’t thin by most standards, but certainly far from fat. Taller than most women I knew, Martha was robust and ample in all areas, and she was especially fond of wearing thin summer dresses that revealed her legs.
That spring break I was somewhat down. Pretty much everyone in town my age had taken off for the beach. And in a high school that counted no more than 500 kids, meaning Gannis Falls was practically deserted that week.
In consequence, the store was empty that Saturday night, and I spent most of the time watching movies and cleaning shelves. Then at nearly 10 p.m., Martha strolled in wearing my favorite blue flowered summer dress that allowed the generous swell of her cleavage to bunch up above the neck line.
“Hey sweetie. I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice like honey pouring down my body in tingly waves.
“Hello Martha. Where’s Manny tonight?” I asked. We had long since done away with the last name formalities.
“Oh, one of his jobs sent him on a week-long assignment to New York. It’s just little old bored me.”
“What can I do for you?” I said, glancing away from her eyes as nasty fantasies of Martha alone in her house naked and sweaty bounced into my head.
“Well, I’m needing some suggestions on a good movie,” she said, her voice softening and her eyes twinkling. “Something loud and with lots of variations.” Translation: A porno where the girls are screaming while getting fucked in strange positions. I giggled in my pretend-not-to-be-innocent way as my mental file went through some of the boxes I read from the night before. See, I don’t go back there during business hours. Wouldn’t be proper for the son of Marion Trent Harwood, Sr. and Lisa Corry Harwood, lifetime residents of Gannis Falls, to be seen gawking at porn videos.
Still, I managed a suggestion. A video of girls being pummeled by hydraulic machines fitted with dildos and phallus objects. No couple action, but I was always fond of watching girls have authentic orgasms on videos. Girls in traditional videos always seemed to act their enjoyment while the guys got to spill their pleasure. I was much more turned on by the exhibition of womanly pleasure.
She emerged from the back room a little later. By then, I had already locked the doors and began my closing duties, but let Martha browse undisturbed. She handed me a video box, a brunette on the cover sitting naked atop a saddle in obvious rapture, a dark circle censoring the space below her navel, leaving the rest to the imagination.
“Is this the one?” she said. I nodded, trying very hard to keep my crotch from swelling too much.
“There’s no couple action in it though. All the girls are alone in it,” I said. She laughed and said it would be perfect since she was as well.
“Is that going to be it for tonight?”
“No. Can you come with me in the back for a couple of other suggestions?” she said. Her voice belied no hint of teasing or flirtation. She seemed to ask with the air of a customer simply needing help. In hindsight, she had to know that an 18-year-old surrounded by rows of porn videos was about as sexually volatile as dynamite.
I followed, feeling my face flush in embarrassment. Sending Martha and Manny back to the adult section was one thing, joining one or the other physically there was completely out of my realm of possibilities.
We browsed the walls, with Martha picking up boxes here and there and asking me about the movies. I answered as truthfully and candidly as I could, all the while concentrating on the chilled air from the air conditioning to keep my penis at bay. The worst I could imagine was to spring a hard on in front of a customer. To make it worse, Martha moved closer to me every time she bent over to grab a tape, even bending in front of me once so the crack of her bottom nearly rubbed perfectly against my crotch.
My mind was too naive to translate these gestures as signs of any interest in me sexually. I thought there was no way, a married lady, a customer, especially with someone who just recently gained any sort of muscle and girth.
Eventually, she chose three more movies, and we went back to the front. As I checked them out, she asked something more with that same honey covered voice of hers.
“I need another big favor from you as well. Is there any way I can get you back at my house after you close? Manny bought a new TV and hasn’t hooked the VCR to it yet,” she said. My eyes bugged from my head, and I stuttered.
Martha smiled and said, “It would be a big favor. I don’t know how to do it.”
“Sure. I’ll be a little bit though.”
“That’s fine. You just come right into the garage door, don’t worry about knocking.”
********
Needless to say my imagination went into overdrive, as did my hormones. There was no way, I was convinced, that Martha meant anything more than the obvious: For me to hook up her VCR. There was no way. Yet the remote possibility was like some radioactive nugget in my brain that fueled my cock to rock-hard status.
I pulled up to her house sometime later. Martha and Manny lived just past the town’s borders in a three story house that was formerly the town hall of Gannis Falls. The duo were renowned for restoring the structure, and even used some of the rooms as a bed and breakfast.
But the house was far from any other home in Gannis Falls. I pulled up the driveway, the brakes on my 1978 Oldsmobile squeaking in protest to its incline from the street. Martha was already at the garage door, inviting me in as I approached.
“You’re such a sweetie for coming by, Scott,” she said. I was completely ‘awww shucks ma’am’ attitude, blushing as I gauged the surroundings. Her house was indeed beautiful, filled with very cool old movie posters. Manny was a former movie producer and director before he and Martha retired to Gannis Falls. Occasionally he would shoot commercials to make extra income, which was why he was in New York that particular week.
She showed me the entertainment room, as she called it. It was perhaps the biggest room in the house, and nearly a mini-movie theater, with a large plush couch in the center. A massive big-screen television sat atop an equally expansive entertainment center. Martha wasn’t lying. It was a complicated hookup.
We chatted idly as I clicked and rummaged and strung wires here and there, partly fumbling as I went along and hoping for the best. Martha lounged on the sofa, her dress creasing up her legs to expose her inner thighs. I tried but couldn’t help it as my eyes stole peeks; she seemed oblivious and instead leaned back in an exaggerated stretch as she thrust her chest out, letting her breasts bunch against the thin material.
“Boy, this is so good of you. I’d be bored out of my mind tonight without the VCR,” she said. “But I have no idea how much to pay you for the home visit.”
“Please, this is no problem. I’m not charging you anything,” I said as sincere as possible.
“Well, there’s got to be something I can do to repay you,” Martha said, her voice suddenly raspy. I was absorbed with leaning behind the entertainment unit, attempting to connect some cords to the back of the machine when I saw, or thought I saw, Martha briefly trail her fingers across her crotch. But her movements were quick, secretive, and I wasn’t sure if it was nothing more than an innocent itch.
“Don’t worry. Just keep renting from us,” I said. She chuckled and said “you bet” a little too sensuously.
I had finally finished, and she asked me to put a tape in to test. Of course, it was one of the pornos. I fast forwarded the tape until the opening scene darted by with a group of people ensnared in tangles of naked limbs, their bodies jutting and jerking at impossible speeds.
“Okay, looks good,” I said and immediately turned for the door.
“Wait,” she said, moving to me by the VCR. Martha pushed play and immediately sounds of ecstasy erupted from the speakers set up around the room. She smiled, again that devious innocent smile, and stood next to me.
“Do me a favor and show me how to operate the machine from here,” she said.
I turned and somehow managed to stand directly behind Martha. She bent over to examine the VCR, her ass framing my crotch as I leaned over to show her the different buttons. There was little I could do at that point, sounds of moaning and cawing from the speakers and Martha leaning her body against mine. My cock swelled inside my pants, straining into a noticeable bulge. My only hope was I could somehow graciously leave the house without her noticing my erection.
“What does this one do?” she said, and I suddenly felt small, tenuous movements from her hips, and an almost imperceptible friction on my groin. My cock had now grown feverishly hard, but I didn’t move. My mind swam in its hormones and lust, but I didn’t think, couldn’t think.
“Those are so you can change the channel on the TV from here,” I said, my voice cracking in excitement.
Martha pushed her hips against me, my bulge digging noticeably into the cleft of her behind. Her action caused me to hunch forward a little more, almost cradling her body. By then, I was under her complete control, my rational brain long since numbed by such extreme arousal.
“And this one?”
“That’s the play button,” I barely said.
“No, it’s not. This is the play button.” With that Martha took my hand nimbly in hers and guided it to her left breast. Instinctively, I squeezed as she moaned and reached under us. I then felt her fingers brush my balls through my khakis.
“You’re such a sexy darling for coming to help me tonight. If you don’t take money, I have to give you some sort of tip,” she said, leaning up, and facing me.
Ever have a perfect moment? A single moment in time that’s so indelibly etched into the slab of memory that you relive every sensation, every nanosecond of it from then on? This was my moment. I was a sparkler on the Forth of July, fully aware what was about to happen, but hardly believing the reality, and more than certainly unable to control it.
Martha leaned forward, her lips tentatively brushing mine, painting little pecks against me until I finally responded. Soon, pecks became full kisses, which then became engrossed, our tongues seeking each other’s pleasure. I felt her hand apply pressure to my chest, pushing me to the sofa. I fell, landing on the cushions while Martha ensnared me with her arms, lips, mouth, tongue, hands.
She broke off the kiss long enough to undress me, kissing flesh as it became exposed. My hands remained tentative, uncertain. I explored her breasts, but made little move to undress her. She seemed determined for something else.
I arched as she snaked off my pants and underwear, my cock, sticky from sweat in the confines for so long, tingled in the cool room. Martha looked up at me with a wicked smile, and resumed kissing my navel, her tongue exploring my belly button.
“Just relax, hon. Let yourself go,” she said as her hand grasped my shaft, slowly manipulating the skin back and forth. I gasped, overcoming the sounds of sex still emanating from the speakers. Years of fantasies, magazines and videos never prepared me for the complete rapture I felt when her tongue finally trailed from my sack up the underside of my shaft. She took me completely in her mouth.
I felt the familiar tingles of an approaching orgasm. But unlike those countless ones I garnered by my own hands, this one felt altogether unique. Slower, more buildup. An intensity that threatened to disconnect all self control.
I whimpered.
Martha sensed this, and instead wrapped her arms around my torso, her embrace squeezing my buttocks and trapping me inside her mouth. She began to suck rapidly, her cheeks concaved into me, and her tongue hidden within her lips smoothed up and down the underside of my shaft. “Oh no. I’m going to cum. Mar..Marhhhahh…s-s-s-stooop before,” I shuddered, my brain fading into nothing but the pure electric pleasure that was just then devouring my body. Martha just moaned with my cock in her mouth, sounds of her sucking escaping the vacuum of her lips. It was enough to send me over the edge.
My cum burst forth, I literally felt it barrel out of my shaft. I jerked, cried out. My arms flailed, grabbing and shaking against her shoulders. I leaned forward wanting to shove all my body into her mouth, wanting to peel away from the orgasm that became too intense.
“Christ! Oh God! Fucking yes!” I screamed even more obscenities. Completely involuntary, but seemed appropriate and not unbecoming.
My cock ached as it slackened in her mouth. She released me with a quiet gasp of her hot breath, her tongue slathering across the tip and shaft. Martha continued this for some time, every lick and kiss caused my body to ripple, an ache-like pain mixing in the subcurrents of my orgasm that only made me feel more erotic. I whimpered like a puppy as she giggled.
“You taste so youthful,” Martha said. “You eat a lot of fruit, don’t you?”
Voices, contrived dialogue were coming from the speakers now. But my mind felt more aware, alert to the subtexts of my surroundings. I could hear the electrical hum of the television monitor, a slow whirl as the cassette tape continued to play, Martha’s smell, a mix of almond body lotion and lilacs
“Fruit?” I said finally. “Yea. Why?”
“Makes your seed sweeter,” she said. “And you tasted like honey.”
Martha snaked up my body, her lips kissing and nibbling trails. My stomach, my chest, my nipples, shoulders and finally kissing me delicately on the lips. I responded, not even thinking that she just swallowed my cum. I tasted my saltiness, but wasn’t repulsed, and responded to her pecks with urgency. She kissed me deeply, letting my tongue move in her mouth.
A hand gained confidence finally, and ventured down to her lips. She hiked her body, hovering above me, and moved up slightly to urge my trek downward. Eager, but untrained, my hand offered no preamble, no teasing caresses. My index finger immediately slipped between her lips, digging in and out amateurishly. I was unprepared for her wetness. Perhaps I always imagined pussy juice to be nothing more than water. Or maybe all those glossy photos of glistening snatches dulled my imagination. What I felt instead was an almost stickiness, her juices slick, inviting and with mass. I never expected that. But the turn on it gave me. My cock only faltered a minute before it surged again.
Martha performed for me, making me feel as though I was the greatest lover this side of the world. Her hips jerked against my finger, her inner walls heating against my skin, swallowing my digit as she manipulated those sacred muscles.
“Yes, baby. You’re so good. Play with my pussy,” Martha mewed. I was fascinated, trying to lick her nipples as I had seen in countless still photos. She said things, used words I thought only guys my age dared to say in the privacy of a locker room. “That’s it Scott. Suck my tits. You’re turning me on so much.”
Suddenly Martha hunched up as she shot her hand down between us. I felt her hand push mine away — and for a split second, I was disappointed, perhaps a little hurt and exposed as though she got tired of my inexperience. Then her fingers wrapped around my shaft, and a wicked grin spread across her lips. She lowered herself, allowing the head of my cock to skim along her slit.
“Oh, yes,” I moaned, then became alarmed. “Martha, wait. I don’t have a condom on.”
She only giggled and said not to worry. I didn’t even know that was possible. Sex and intimidation, lust and worry were so intricately tied together in my teen mind that I was vexed with tension, which dulled my hardness. Martha leaned forward, kissing me deeply and then added pressure downward. I felt my cock head slowly, agonizingly, slip between her mound. Then my shaft enveloped in that warm stickiness. I moaned her name as she slid my entire length, pausing to let me land in comfort and ease into losing my virginity. Years of fantasy and false starts ended in the hands of a beautifully mature woman on a sofa.
Martha sat up, her haunches rising against my hips. My hands grasped her breasts, but remained as statues as she began to steadily fuck me. It too was unlike anything I felt, even different from her blowjob. I marveled at her body, the swell of her breasts, the way she tilted her head back, her mouth agape and releasing little rasps of pleasure. Strangely, I focused on the hollow at the base of her neck and the top of her chest, the way her throat seemed to ripple beneath. Then my mind mulled on the word fucking. Toyed with it. Fuck. Huck. To Fuck. Fuck Me. Fuck It. Fuck-a-long Cassidy. I even wondered how the word ever came to mean sex, and why it had such a naughty connotation.
But thoughts soon mellowed into pleasure, and perhaps after a minute or two, I began to feel those now familiar tingles. I didn’t want to. It wasn’t fair, not for someone with a moment this erotic, this unbelievable. But Martha seemed to sense this, and she too became overtaken. Her head shot to me, her eyes squinting in absolute pleasure. Her hips became more frantic, and I heard squishing noises coming from between us. Martha pushed into me so her movements prevented even the root of my penis from leaving her mound. She just rocked faster and faster.
“That’s it, Scott. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. I’m cumming,” She yelled out. At first I thought it was the movie, its noises long since being lost in the background to my senses. But she then grabbed my hands, pinning them to the cushions as she began to ride my cock frantically, straining for her orgasm.
“Oh…yea….cu…um…inside my pussy. Cu….um…..wi….ith…..me,” she panted.
And I came. It was short, traumatic, a TNT explosion of every pleasure nerve ending connected to my flesh. My sperm released into the nether of her sex.
Martha laid on top of me for sometime. Her flesh sticky with perspiration. She lazily kissed and nibbled my neck, rocking against my soft cock, milking an eroticism I never knew existed. I stayed at her house that night, and finagled a way to remain there the entire weekend.
Martha showed me things beyond even what magazines and movies depicted were possible between two people that weekend. And I left there feeling as powerful as any sheik in a harem.
But even hours and hours of sex and dirty talk never prepared me for her proposal. A proposal that would consume the rest of my summer in Gannis Falls. But that’s for another story, another time.