Go Ahead

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A young man's first time with a friend.
2.6k words
4.17
81.9k
26

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 02/07/2014
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The following is a true story. Names have been changed for obvious reasons.

I suppose from my youth, I've always been attracted to women older than myself. I can remember as a curious kid, trying to sneak peaks at the women in our family. I'm sure there is a scientific or psychological term for my yearnings, but looking back on it, I'll just have to chalk it up to "typical boy hormones". By the way, my name is Steve.

I grew up in what I would consider "normal" southern suburban surroundings in the 60's & 70's. Dad worked while mom stayed home, cooked, cleaned, canned, and sewed. We went to church every Sunday, would go to the park with friends, have barbeques and homemade ice cream (remember the old green bucket with the metal hand crank?). We were not what I'd call "well off", but made do with what we had and as I look back on it, it really was a great life to have as a child.

Growing up in the suburbs, things stayed pretty much at a norm. Occasionally, a family would move away and another moved in, but for the most part the people that lived there, eventually died there. It was very close to what you might see in a movie; a bicycle in every yard, kids playing ball in the street or a neighbor's yard, a dog or two running loose around the houses, a squabble in a yard with mothers flying out the front doors to break it up. As I said, it was typical suburban USA in all aspects of that era.

Our next-door neighbors were a family with four kids whose youngest child was right at ten years older than me, so while I knew them and they knew me, I was too young to be a part of their child-hood/neighborhood group. One day, a moving van pulled up to their house and I asked mom what was going on. She explained that the "mom" was moving out. I really didn't understand what a divorce meant at that early age, but later came to accept the fact that from now on, only the "dad" would be living there. He was a nice gentleman and since he was gone most of the time (he was a truck driver, which probably assisted to the demise of his marriage), I really didn't see much of him.

Time went on and since no one was at his house; we would keep an eye on it for him. He even left us a key so we could take his mail in every couple of days, turn the heat up in case of a hard freeze, etc. I remember taking his mail in one time and finding his "stash" of magazines. (Okay, I was snooping and found them...sue me!) Sex was never a topic of discussion in our home. I was told the basic "birds & bees" early on and either mom or dad would answer any of my questions, but back then we just didn't talk about it or have the Internet for information. What you learned about sex was from what you read, what your heard, or what you experienced. Anyway, the magazines helped answer some questions I had about the female form, so from then on, I was always ready and willing to help out by running next door to take his mail inside.

His kids came over when he was home and visited, but as I said, they were much older, so they paid me little attention. Years later, on one such visit, the youngest stayed after his sisters loaded up and left. By this time, the son, Charles had just graduated high school and decided to live with his dad or at his dad's house while he was "on the road" as he called it.

One day, a couple of years later Charles, the son, was out in the front yard working on his car and curiosity got the best of me and I walked over to see what he was doing. Dad and I had long since been working on the family car since we really could not afford to take them to a mechanic, and it made for a great learning tool for me and excellent "quality time" for my dad and I. Charles was elbow deep in grease and I offered my help. As you might expect, he was not too excited to have "a kid" there, but when I handed him a wrench he needed before he even asked for it, I think he realized I might not be in the way after all and glad to have me there to give him a hand. He even let me jump in to see if it would start. Looking back, he probably just didn't want to take the chance of getting his upholstery greasy. After it cranked, he said "Thanks, Steve" and that's how we became friends.

As I stated, Charles was right at ten years older but, as years went by, he would help me with my bike if dad was at work or a lawn mower I couldn't get to crank and I'd give him a hand if he ever needed it. One day, he asked me to help him with a plumbing problem in the house and I anxiously agreed to give him a hand. As it turned out, he just needed an extra set of hands to hold a fitting while he threaded and tightened it. After the job was complete, he asked me if I would like a Coke to drink and I accepted it, as soda was a luxury and not as commonplace in my home as it is today. As I sat in the living room, I saw one of "those magazines" sitting on the table beside me. He laughed at me and said, "Go ahead, and take a look at it". I'm sure I turned fifty shades of red as I had been caught trying to sneak a look at the cover. Seeing my reluctance, he offered to let me take it home with the understanding that if I got caught with it, I would deny where I got it. Thus began a regular visit to his house to visit the "library" as we called it to "check out/borrow" another magazine from his collection. How cool was that? I had an unlimited supply of magazines at my disposal. Life was good!

This went on until one day, I went over and a woman answered the door. "Uh, is Charles here?" I asked. She replied that he had gone to the store and would be back shortly. I told her my name and that I lived next door. She introduced herself as Margie, and invited me inside. I was slightly embarrassed and dumbstruck standing on the porch trying to come up with an excuse as to why I was there, so I went inside and sat down, as it was cooler in the house than outside, nervously attempting to watch the television while sneaking peaks at her.

She wasn't a super-model or beauty queen, but she was definitely cute; slender, long legs, nice curves, long brown hair, deep blue eyes and most importantly, only wearing very short cut-offs and a halter-top. As we sat, she leaned over the coffee table for something and her halter opened enough that I saw most of my first breast up close. Granted, it wasn't a full view and it was two or three feet away, but I still wanted to look. I'm sure she caught me peeking because when I looked up at her, she was blushing a bit and made an effort to adjust her top and smiled at me. I figured modesty had overcome her because nothing else really happened. After a bit, she took a deep breath and made several more efforts to either pick something up or move it around on the table allowing me a few more glimpses. I guess she was "giving me a thrill".

It seemed like an hour, but I'm sure it was less than five minutes when Charles walked in carrying a sack of groceries. She was cool as a cucumber, but I'm sure he could see my "dilemma" (the magazine under my shirt) and explained to her that I occasionally came over to check out his library. She understood and Charles nodded his head towards the spare bedroom and said, "Go ahead, Steve". I headed down the hall, made a quick choice and left with another magazine, after saying thanks and goodbye. I'm sure they got quite a laugh at me after I left, but nothing was ever said. I could hardly wait to lock myself in the bathroom after that episode.

They eventually got married and seemed very happy, and she always had a smile on her face. When she would see me she would always wave and it seemed she occasionally made an effort to give me another peak whenever she could, but that was it. Of course, it "wasn't proper" for me to go over to their house as often, but Margie and I also became friends and I was always welcome in their home. They both watched me grow up.

It after my 18th birthday and I was a senior in high school that she asked me to come next door and help her with a project. She was rearranging their furniture and needed a hand before Charles got home from work. Even though it didn't seem that long, we worked for several hours rearranging almost every room in the house. By mid afternoon, we had located everything where she wanted it and she offered me a Coke as I plopped down on the sofa.

We just made small talk until I finished my drink and stood to leave. She offered to pay me, but I refused and headed towards the door. As I reached the doorknob, I turned around to say bye and she was standing right behind me. She then grabbed my arm and turned me to face her directly, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I know you just had your birthday and we didn't get you anything". That struck me as really weird. As far as I knew, neither of them even knew what day it was, as they had never acknowledged my birthday in the past.

Margie closed the distance between us and grabbed me by the both arms and pulled me closer. "I've watched you grow up into a very good-looking young man". I was starting to worry because I knew I had a "growing problem" (in those days the wind could blow a certain way and I'd have a growing problem) below and didn't want her to notice it. It was then I realized that sometime between moving the furniture and now, she had unbuttoned her shirt to the point right above where her bra would start and I had an uninterrupted view of her cleavage.

As I looked down, she pulled me closer, smiled and said, "Go ahead. Isn't that what Charles told you the first day we met?" I was confused and I'm sure flushed. Here I was, an 18 year old virgin looking down at a Margie's cleavage and all I could think about was running home and taking matters in my own hands. I made an attempt to pull away, but she only increased her hold and slid her arms around my neck. "Go ahead". I vaguely remember as I slowly put my hands on her hips while staring into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I was spellbound. Looking back, I guess I'd always had a teenage "crush" on her.

Just for the record, at this age, I was around 6 feet tall and 150 pounds soaking wet. I towered over both of them, as he was about 5'8" with an average build. She was 5'6", perfect figure, and right then a goddess.

Now up until this point in my life, I had kissed a girl or two, but this was a full-grown woman and my next-door neighbor to boot. I'll admit I was a scared bundle of mixed emotions. I was horny as hell, but this was Charles' wife and I had a problem betraying him. Who said a hard dick has no conscience? I once again tried to pull away, my mind screaming "THIS IS WRONG", but she only tightened her grip around my neck and closed the distance between our lips when she again repeated, "Go ahead".

It was then that she leaned in to kiss me and all resolve left my body. I slowly slid my hands from her hips and encircled her with my arms. I remember feeling her tongue touching my lips and I opened my mouth slightly allowing my tongue to do the same. Sometime during all of this, I realized that my hands had started to roam her back continuing up to her bra strap and then around her body to her sides where I could barely feel the swell of her breasts. The same breasts she had allowed me to peak at years ago were now within inches of my fingers. She then moved her body away a bit so I could cup the sides while we continued to kiss. Once again, what seemed like hours was probably only a few seconds when she broke the kiss.

Now again, I will also have to admit that while growing up, I had taken the liberty to feel a tit or two if I had the chance, but this was altogether different. This was a grown woman. This was Margie. She looked me in the eyes and then looked down at my hands cupping the sides of her breasts and back into my eyes. Margie nodded and softly said, "Go ahead" as she pulled away further allowing me to bring my hands around to her front and fully cup them through her shirt and bra. I couldn't believe it.

Here was a woman over ten years older giving me permission to touch her breasts. All I could do was watch as I felt and squeezed a grown woman's breasts for the first time. When I looked up, she was smiling and leaned in for another kiss. I remember her softly moaning as I caressed and we kissed. Birthday presents from then on would have a hard act to follow!

Somehow, in the "throes of passion", she had managed to pin me against the front door and wrap her right leg around me pressing her body against mine. Of course, I had no problem with anything she was doing at this point, as all my senses were on overload. She suddenly broke our kiss, pulled her arms from around my neck and pulled away from me.

I'm sure I looked quite comical standing there with my hands in a cup fashion grasping nothing but air. I started to panic. I thought I'd done something wrong. How do I fix this and get back to the most erotic moment of my life? She seemed to have read the look on my face, smiled again, and took me by the hand pulling me towards the same sofa we had just moved.

I can still remember everything seeming to move in slow motion as she seated herself on the cushion near the center of the couch while...

To be continued...?

Note: This is my first EVER attempt at writing. These events actually happened to me and I am trying to put them into my own words while embellishing for a more erotic appeal, while staying within the guidelines of LITEROTICA. I do not claim to be a writer of erotica, but I find the memories to be noteworthy even to this day. I did not have this edited by anyone, as I wanted the words to be mine. I hope you enjoyed it and while I encourage constructive criticism, your comments will decide whether or not I post the rest of the story. Thanks for reading.

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17 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 5 years ago
fantastic

Just please finish it next time

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago

Why are you trying to embellish a true story?

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago
Great read

Should I have had such a great experience at eighteen, life would have been far more enjoyable for me and the woman I encountered. Thanks for the read. I'd love to read the rest of the story.

80

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
Thank you

I only wish it had happened to me.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago
Excellent start

Enjoyed the beginning and the gentle seduction. Look forward to the continuation

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