This is a story about my journey from girlhood to womanhood. It's about how I learned to understand what makes me tick (and what makes me go boom). As implausible as it might seem, it's also about the power I gained by submitting to the will of others. It's a journey into a mirror; such a journey could be of one step, or a thousand, and might very well contain a few missteps along the way. It is, of course, my version of things, with dialogue and events reconstructed from memory and diaries I kept. You may think it's ridiculous, but since it actually happened to me, that's OK. I guess I'm really writing it for myself, so I don't have as much concern about what you, dear reader, think of it (or of me). But, still, I hope you find it interesting.
Chapter 1: Jeannie is pushed over the edge.
The story starts with my love affair with Jack. I was known as Jeannie then. Yep, Jack and Jeannie. We attended small colleges in the South that were located about an hour's drive apart, but we both came from the same small city. We had attended different high schools but met through a mutual friend who later attended the same college as Jack. The circumstances of our meeting were kind of sweet, but not important to the story I'm trying to tell. The beginning of the story takes place in the mid-1980's, so no mobile phones, or internet -- a very different time from today.
I guess I should say a word about the two of us. Personality-wise, Jack was kind of a nerd. Read a lot of science fiction and fantasy but was a very nice guy, always something interesting to talk about and lots of fun to do things with. I was kind of a nerd myself, a big reader also. I had REALLY been a nerd in high school, heavy glasses, straight hair and dowdy clothes. I was fortunate I had pretty clear skin, blessed or lucky I guess, and didn't have to deal with the scourge of acne. A few of my friends went to work on me in the summer before my senior year and I guess you would say I blossomed -- with my hair combed out and permed, a little makeup, shorter skirts, and contacts (yay for contacts!!!), I was told I looked pretty good. I had some good times with a few guys that last year in high school, kind of making up for lost time, just in time to graduate and head off to a mostly-female college (booo!!!).
At the time this story really begins, Jack and I had been together for almost a year, and had been lovers most of that time. We were somewhat "experimental" as young lovers often are. I say experimental knowing that modern readers may smile faintly when I say that, but these things were new to us (or at least to me). I was nominally a virgin when I met Jack, I had never gone all the way with a boy although I had gone down on a guy before and done some other things that we would have called "heavy petting" at the time. Jack was not a virgin, but I honestly don't think he had much more experience than I did when we met.
I think I surprised him a little the first time I went down on him (sucked his cock, Jack would prefer me to say) and swallowed.
I think he actually held me at arms length for a moment and stuttered something like, "You swallowed my cum!" (a little obvious, I would have said).
I sweetly responded, "Was that OK?"
"Of course it's OK!" he said, and added, "That's what you're supposed to do!"
After that first time, oral sex became a key part of our lovemaking.
Our experimenting was some about location, a little bit about clothing and a lot about fantasies. We made love out of doors often, and sometimes he would have me walk some distance (in the woods) with nothing on but sneakers. We had sex in the student union's "reading room" at my school and once in the choir room of the chapel. He got me to go bra-less in a see-through blouse and walk across campus at his school once, he thought that was way sexy. I didn't have big boobs, just a 34B in the bra department, but Jack really seemed to like them, which pleased me no end.
He was inordinately fascinated by me in short skirts, or any kind of skirt or dress, really. We once sat on the floor at a school function and he managed to insinuate his hand under my skirt and play with my pussy throughout the event. I still can't remember what was going on at that event, I was totally wound up by his "undercover" manipulations, even through the pantyhose and panties I was wearing. Jack enjoyed fondling me, squeezing my boobs through my clothes, rubbing my pussy under my skirt, and so on. Of course I enjoyed it too! I always got really wet when he did that. Although I would often push him away and act embarrassed, I liked it!
Jack discovered garter belts and stockings and wanted me to wear them, but women in our part of the country had long moved on from those complicated underthings to the relative simplicity of pantyhose, and I was reluctant to turn back the clock. We had recently become engaged, however, and I put him off by promising that I would wear them for him some after we were married. I'm sure the faint smiles from the more experienced readers will have turned to chuckles or maybe outright laughter at this point, but hey, we were typical church-going southern college kids of the time.
One of the "risque'" things that we
did
regularly engage in while having sex was domination and submission fantasies. Sometimes I was the maid with the wealthy landowner; other times he was the poor peasant coerced by the queen. Occasionally they were more violently oriented, usually with me acting out the part of the defenseless girl attacked by a home invader. All of these were costume- and device-free; in other words, these were all verbal fantasies, the only physical part being the sex act which was the consummation of the story. Sometimes the fantasy would involve Jack forcibly removing the clothing of the submissive partner (me), turning me over for a spanking or something like that. Although I liked being the "queen," I got particularly excited when he was the dominant party, and that more and more became the theme of our fantasy love life.
I was multi-orgasmic from the beginning of our sex life and frequently would cum so hard that I would actually pass out. Jack worried a little bit about me then, and would usually administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (no, really, not just kissing, I mean blowing air into my lungs) until I revived. He told me he did this because he had no desire to fuck a sleeping girl, or a corpse -- he wanted me to feel and enjoy the moment as the sex, as he put it, "was not just all about his pleasure." What a gem! I
adored