I began working in late July for a small food establishment in an even smaller town in Ohio. I had just turned 18. I wasn't really anything to look at, and still don't think so. I'm about five six, long black hair, and blue eyes. I had a lot of fun working with my friends in the restaurant. My boss and all of my coworkers were female and we cracked up all day.
That December, I met him. He was my boss's husband. I forgot to mention I am Michelle and he is Rob. Rob was 51. He wasn't much taller than I, but with light sandy hair peppered with gray and a mustache. All of us were called together to cater a big party in town for the local muckity-mucks. Rob came with us and helped us out. He never noticed me other than to help me carry things out. That night I thought I had died and gone to heaven when he took me home, because I didn't have a car. I fantasized about him for nearly two years. I saw him sporadically, and when I did it was the highlight of my day.
After two years rolled around, I was 18, and he was retiring. He was going to work for us at the restaurant by delivering food to customers and picking up our supplies. I had lost about fifty pounds. I was still plump, make no mistake, but my waist emerged and my chest proudly dominated my anterior. We had always talked and laughed in the back room, but would be gently scolded for not working enough. So when he came to work, we would hang out in the back, working and talking. But the talking soon turned to flirting.
He began to notice that I wasn't nearly as serious as I had once been. We began to trade dirty jokes. The one that got me involved him catching my hand, out of sight of everyone else, and stroking it with his index finger. He had begun to get to know me, and he knew it turned me on. He began making compliments on my body, brushing up against me. But I loved it and returned everything he dished out. So when we had to go get stuff for the eatery, he began to ask me if I was a virgin, if I had ever been drunk, if I slept naked. The answer was yes, no, and yes. After that there was no turning back.
We began to flirt heavily over the Christmas season. It came to a head the day before Christmas Eve. We had been talking about my sexual experiences and it excited him. He point blank asked me if I wanted a teacher to show me the ins and outs of real sex. He told me that he didn't want me to go to college and get drunk and raped, or to be mindlessly fucked by some pimply boy.
"I want to show you how to make love, Michelle, and what the difference is between being with someone you care about and with someone who wants to fuck you." I was taken aback and my virgin mind told me that I had gone too far with the flirtation. I told him maybe we should cut out the sexual comments and such.
"Rob, I think you are the sexiest man I know. But I don't want you to get in trouble. I couldn't live with myself if your wife found out."
"I understand," he sighed. "But you're too gorgeous to forget. We may try to act as if nothing is there physically, but you and I both know we won't stop wanting each other."
"I know that. But maybe if the circumstances were different," I lamented. He smiled ruefully at me.
"Are we still friends?" he asked, looking like a lost teddy bear. I smiled.
"Of course." He turned on his megawatt smile and that was the last I saw of him until after the new year. It was actually February. About two weeks before Valentine's Day, the restaurant turns into a bakery. We specialize in cakes and cookies and other confections. So we were busy baking and Rob was busy delivering. He caught me in the back room two days before Valentine's Day. The delicious flirting began again, twice as bad as before.
"I can't stop thinking about you, Michelle. I miss you. Do you still think about me?" he asked.
"Yes!" I hissed. "How could I forget?" He grabbed my arms and stared me down.
"I've been fantasizing about you nonstop." And then someone came into the back room and we split apart. I could think of nothing else for the next two days. On Valentine's Day, I had him deliver a cake to my mom. When she called to thank me, she said, "Thank Rob for the big hug." I laughed inwardly, Rob likes to hug we well-endowed women and I get mine honestly. When he returned from his final delivery that Sunday, I sashayed up to him and asked for my big hug.
He smiled and squeezed me tightly. When we broke apart, our eyes met for a split second and before I knew it he kissed me once hard on the lips. As we broke apart I was shaking so badly I dropped the cookie spatula I was holding.
My dad was leaving for Europe for ten days and Rob was going to be at a convention in the city. He was working during the day and going to the convention at night. The next day I told him we needed to talk. I gave him directions and he showed up at my empty house on a Saturday night after the convention.
Understandably we were both paranoid. But I more so than he. He was so smooth that I didn't trust myself around him and his silky, persuasive voice. He revealed to me that his fantasy was to go down on me. I was a little surprised and asked why it wasn't making love to me.
"Michelle, that's a whole different and even better fantasy. For me to get my tongue in your pussy would let me die a happy man." I shrank back into my chair a little, ruminating and juicing at the same time. He could tell he was getting me hot and bothered, and told me the stories of his past sexual encounters. When I shook myself out of my reverie, I glanced at the clock and told him he had to go. He rose reluctantly, and went to my garage door. We were always huggers, and I reached out for the last hug we might ever have in private. Instead of squeezing me tightly and stroking my back, he cupped my face and began to kiss me softly.
I truly until that point had never been soul kissed. My knees began to weaken and I melted against him. He held me and kissed me for what seemed like minutes. My brain began to work again and flashed danger signs. I pushed him away feebly.
"Rob, you have to leave." He gave me a small, seductive smile.
"Not if you don't want me to," he said, closing in on me again. His hand snaked down to my ass and began to squeeze. I broke away from him immediately, knowing my erogenous zones would defy me if I let him progress further. We smiled at each other and woefully I reached out to touch his soft beard.
"I'll miss this," I sighed.
"Someday you'll feel it between your legs," he said, with a knowing look, and went out the door. I sagged against the wall and shook. I let out the breath I had been holding. For the next few days I thought and thought about his proposition. And thought and thought. The following Wednesday I encountered him in the back room. As I walked by him, my window opened.
"Rob, yes." And then I began to walk out the door. He stared at me for a few seconds and then he comprehended. He tried to hide the smile that began to suffuse his lovely lips.
"Yes?" I nodded, threw him my own smile, and bounced out the door.
"Have any plans for Friday," he asked casually on Thursday. I studied him.
"Not at the moment, but that could change," I replied carefully. The look on his face told me I had plans Friday night.
"Seven," he mouthed to me. "Wait for me outside." I nodded back. I was a nervous wreck for the rest of the day and the following day.
Having no idea how to dress for my deflowering, I decided easy access might work the best. My halter-top and jeans was all the attire I wore. It had been unseasonably warm for that February, and I was able to wait for him outside without too much discomfort. When his lights pierced the darkness I began to lose my senses. My night was about to begin.
