Help Thy Neighbor And Shell Help

I was walking home from high school one lovely spring afternoon, some years ago, when I came upon a woman just ahead of me, struggling with a big bag of groceries. "Excuse me," she called out as I passed her. "Don't you live in 527 Kenwood?" That was the number of the apartment house where I lived with my parents. Yes, I answered, I did.

"I do, too," she said. "I thought I've seen you around the building." An attractive woman of average height and weight, in her late 20s or early 30s, she told me she had hurt her shoulder playing tennis and was finding it increasingly painful to carry that bag of groceries. Would I help her? Sure, I replied as I took the bag and we walked down the street together, exchanging names -- "I'm Miriam...Miriam Kranz;" "hi, I'm Kenny" -- and making small talk.

Once inside her apartment -- she lived in the west wing of the large building, my family in the east wing, which perhaps explained why I couldn't recall ever seeing her before -- I put her groceries on the kitchen table and headed for the front door.

"Oh, please, wait!" she said. "Could I ask another favor of you? Would you put the groceries away for me? I can't lift anything above my shoulder." Once again, I said 'sure' and as I began doing that, she made me a root beer float and disappeared into the back of her apartment.

When I finished putting away her groceries, and the soda, I walked to the front door and called out to her: "Thanks for the soda, Mrs. Kranz! I'm leaving now! Bye!"

"Oh, Kenny, wait, wait!" she called out. "I'm so sorry, but can I ask you for still one more little favor?"

"Ahhh, sure. But where are you?"

"Back here."

"Back here" turned out to be her bedroom and there she was, sitting on the edge of her bed. "I can't reach the zipper on the back of my dress with this sore shoulder," she said. "Would you pull the zipper down for me, please?" I gulped -- a grown woman was asking me to partly undress her. I hesitated but when she turned and, with a pleading look in her eyes, repeated "please," I complied.

I unzipped her dress from the neck down to the waist, exposing her back and her bra strap. Once again, I started to leave but she said "no, wait a moment, please. Would you unhook my brassiere? I can't reach that either, with my sore shoulder." Because she was leaning forward, holding the front of her dress against her chest, I figured she was being modest and that it was okay.

Of course, she could have pulled her bra down, rotated the back to the front and popped it open herself -- and while she knew that, I didn't. I was just 19 years old and had never unhooked a bra before. Somehow I got the hooks and eyelets of her bra apart. It was now open -- and I had an erection.

"See the strap marks?" she asked. I did. "Would you please scratch my back to get the circulation back?" So I scratched her back, where the strap marks were, and she just sat there, her head down, as if in a trance.

Then I noticed she'd let the top of her dress and her bra slip down across her lap. She was now bare above the waist and because I was sitting slightly behind her and to one side, I could see one small, pretty tit. Better still, when I looked at the mirror on her dresser, across from the foot of her bed, I could see both of her tits.

"Are you staring at my breasts?" she suddenly asked and I realized with a shock that she was looking in the mirror at me looking in the mirror at her. I stammered and blushed. "It's okay," she said soothingly, placing a hand on my knee and sliding it halfway up my thigh. "Haven't you ever seen a woman's breasts before? Or touched them? Do you have a girl friend? Have you felt her breasts?"

This was well before today's freer sexual mores. I told her I didn't have a steady girl friend. I didn't tell her the most I'd ever gotten, up to that point, was a brief feel of a neighborhood girl's tit one night at the movies and, at that, over her sweater.

"Would you like to feel my breasts?" she asked, but before I could answer, she took one of my hands and placed it on her right tit. I now had a major erection.

She took my left hand and brought it around behind her to cup her other tit (her sore shoulder was no problem there, although that didn't occur to me at the time). She squeezed my hands holding her tits. There was no need for any further coaching; I began squeezing them and rubbing her nipples on my own and, with that, she placed her right hand on my swollen cock.

I thought it was going to burst out of my jeans like a jack-in-the-box. She leaned her head against my shoulder and, speaking softly while lightly rubbing my hard-on, began questioning me about my sexual experiences. Had I ever touched a girl's sex? Had a girl or a woman ever touched mine? Had I ever had intercourse?

The fact was that what I was doing with her, at that very moment, was 1,000 times more sex than I'd ever had before -- that brief fondling of Mary Alice's tit at the movies a few months earlier. Well, that and a lot of masturbation to the girlie magazines then popular. I was afraid, however, if I admitted to being a virgin, she'd stop everything and tell me to leave.

But of course, the reality was precisely the opposite: I was exactly what she wanted -- a virgin teen-aged boy. She loved introducing a young male to the pleasures of fucking.

Miriam didn't wait for answers to the questions she had posed. She took one of my hands and guided it up under her dress, between her legs, pressing it against her crotch. She was wearing panties and I was so inexperienced I couldn't tell what I was touching or what I was supposed to do once there. From jokes, adolescent bull sessions and the occasional "Tijuana Bible" that occasionally found its way into the circle of my pals, I knew that women were different from men, that they had a "hole," a "slit," a "gash" -- but I hadn't touched or even seen one before that moment.

Miriam's hand was now the puppet-master of my fingers, pressing them against her sex. Everything underneath her panties was soft, warm and moist. As she manipulated my hand, she'd occasionally suck in her breath sharply.

"Would you like to have sex?" she asked after several minutes of this directed fondling, but so softly I wasn't sure I'd heard what I thought I'd heard. "Would you like to fuck me?"

I looked into her eyes and saw that she wasn't kidding."Yeah! Oh, yeah!" I said, my heart beating wildly, "yeah!"

She stood up, letting her dress and bra fall to the floor. She pushed her panties down to her feet, kicked them to one side and stood less than a foot away from me, totally naked. I just stared, transfixed by the sight of her small, firm tits and that triangle of dark pubic hair between her legs.

There was also a distinctive, intoxicating scent in the air and even though I'd never smelled an aroused pussy before that moment, I somehow knew what it was. I reached out a hand, palm up, and cupped her sex, surprised by the warmth and dampness I found between her legs.

"Take your clothes off," she said matter-of-factly. As I was pulling my shirt over my head, she loosened my belt and unzipped my jeans. She pushed them down to the floor and then pulled my shorts down, exposing my rampant hard-on.

I was embarrassed, not knowing what she'd think of my equipment -- too small? Too thin? Miriam gazed at my stiff cock for several seconds before grasping it. "How nice," she said quietly, "how nice. A nice stiff dick."

She fell back down on the bed and motioned me to lie alongside her. "This is your first time, isn't it?" she whispered, but she knew it was, had guessed it weeks or even a month or more before when she first spotted me and decided to seduce me, and then seized the opportunity when our paths happened to cross that afternoon. Her sore shoulder was a fiction, invented on the spot to get me first into her apartment and then into her bed.

Mind you, I'm not complaining.

"Your first time?" she breathed into my ear, her tongue tickling me. I could only nod yes, I was panting so hard. "Then let me show you how," she continued, stroking my cock ever so lightly. "If you come quickly -- that's okay -- I just want your first time to be good. So you'll always remember it."

She opened her legs wide and, again with her fingers leading my fingers, led me on an exploration of her pussy, tracing her inner and outer labia. She held her labia apart and told me the little pink nubbin tucked away in their folds was her clit. "Touch it," she said. "Gently." I did and she shivered. She pushed my head down between her legs and my mouth onto her clit. "Lick it with your tongue ....yes, like that....ahhh....now suck it...gently."

After a minute or so of licking and sucking her pussy, licking and sucking that drew a lot of sighs and deep breaths from her, she told me to slide my finger inside her. I was amazed at how soft, warm and wet a vagina could be.

I fingered her enthusiastically but I could feel the volcano building in my cock. "Miriam," I said, "I can't hold out much longer. I'm sorry."

"I understand," she replied as she nudged me up on top of her, located my cock and positioned it to penetrate her. "It's okay if you come quickly," she said. "Just don't stop humping me when you do. Keep it going, fast and hard, okay?"

With that, she slipped my cock into her. Today, decades later, I can still recall that marvelous sensation of entering a woman for the very first time, her pussy so slippery and yet so tight, so yielding and yet so firm.

She was right about me coming quickly. I don't think I gave her more than a dozen strokes before my cock exploded. She had been sort of passive during those few thrusts but once I came, she began bucking her pelvis against me as she sought her own orgasm. I was still rock hard and continued to drive myself into her vigorously, as she'd said to do, and before long, her face was contorted, her eyes closed and she was gasping "oh god....yes...yes!...ohmigod!....oh!...yes! YES!"...and orgasmed.

We lay there, exhausted, for I don't know how long. My mind was spinning -- holy shit! I've just gotten laid! I've had my cock inside a pussy! I'm a man now! -- and my heart was still thumping from the excitement of it all. And I was still hard.

"Well, let's do it again," she said, with a sly little smile and began fondling my cock and my balls and guiding my hand back to her pussy, now viscous with commingled semen and vaginal juices.

She sucked me for a little while -- not that that was necessary; I'd stayed as hard as granite -- until I began to squirm and she realized I was on the verge of coming again. At that point, she climbed on top of me, slipped my cock back inside her and delighted me by sliding her pussy ever-so-slowly up and down my erection. I lasted longer than the first time, but still came quickly; once again, my climax triggered her into hard, vigorous humping and she enjoyed another intense orgasm of her own.

In the days and weeks immediately following my seduction, I was constantly in her apartment. She was as eager and hungry for sex as I was. Her husband was in the Army, overseas, and while she loved him, she said, she had such a strong drive that she had to seek relief from someone else. I was that "someone else" for almost a year.

Being a school teacher, Miriam was always home by mid- to late-afternoon and that's when I'd be home from school also. Her sexual tutoring was comprehensive and all-inclusive and she taught me how to fuck well and often. We did oral, we did anal and, of course, every intercourse position ever envisioned by eroticists. She had copies of the Kama Sutra and Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" and often we'd read passages together and then act out the scenes.

It ended when her husband was discharged and came home. I wondered if he knew his wife had not been a Mrs. Goody-Two-Shoes while he'd been away or that I, the teenager he'd sometimes pass in the building lobby, had had his young cock in his wife's pussy, mouth and ass probably a hundred times or more. I shot enough cum into her during all those afternoons and occasional evenings to have filled a 5-gallon bucket; how she avoided pregnancy in those Pre-Pill Days is something I never knew.

And then one day, she and her husband were gone. Moved. No forwarding address. Just gone. Miriam, if you should happen to read this memoir, please know that I've always been deeply grateful for your seduction, your generous, patient and thorough instruction into the pleasures of sex. I've tried to be just as kind and thoughtful a partner to I don't know how many adult women over the decades -- and as gentle and thorough a seducer of young women (how right you were about the joys of sweet young flesh) as you were to me. Thanks!