My Pussy Eating Obsession

"The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent" -- and the "guilty". This is a true story about how an older woman introduced me to the wonderful world of eating pussy.

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My brother is older than me, and after graduating from high school, he came home one day and said he had joined the Army. It was 1967 and I was stunned -- and my parents were very worried. I asked why he joined up when so many were protesting, dodging the draft, and doing just about anything to avoid being sent to Vietnam and coming home in a body bag. He said that the recruiter told him that by signing up instead of being drafted he'd be sent to Germany. I said he was crazy and that he was going straight to Southeast Asia. He left for boot camp a couple of weeks later, but he fooled me and wound up in Germany.

He left a girlfriend behind, the girl next door -- really -- the girl next door. Debbie was a year older than him, one of a house full of kids, most of them girls. I was friends with her younger brother Jimmie. My mother and theirs were "stay at home" wives and would visit daily to talk while having a cup of tea. Debbie would also come over to our house regularly in the evening to have tea and talk to my mom about my brother, and "bond" with the woman she hoped would be her future mother-in-law.

I was a skinny, nerdy, four-eyed, shy high school boy and had a crush on Debbie's younger sister, Barbara. She was a year older than me and very pretty.

This was a good old city neighborhood where people knew each other, were friendly -- and sat out on their front porches in the evening.

In the summer my mom would sit out with Mrs. T on her front porch and so I tried to make a point of stopping by to ask my mom something when I knew Barbara would be sitting out. I'd linger until Mrs. T would ask me if I wanted an iced tea or a soda to drink, which gave me an excuse to hang around.

Debbie was always there too and used to tease me about the girl down the street. Debbie and Barbara said that she was cute and, it being quite obvious to them that I didn't have a girlfriend, they said I should go after her. I really wasn't interested, because I had my sights set on "the very pretty" Barbara. Summer soon ended and so porch sitting was over until next year.

Well, my brother had been gone for about a year when Barbara and Debbie started to warm up to me -- and it seemed we developed a friendship of sorts, and that was OK with me. I was now 18, less nerdy, and I guess they no longer thought of me as just a kid. That summer, after the moms would break up for the evening, the girls would invite me into their house where we would have a soda and some popcorn while watching the evening and late night shows on TV. I was somewhat of a night owl and always stayed up pretty late. Mrs. T and everyone else usually trickled off to bed after the evening programs and certainly after the 11 o'clock news, and their dad usually worked a night shift so he generally wasn't home at night. We would watch Johnny Carson, and on Saturdays, a local program that showed horror movies. Even though I wasn't very interested in watching the TV programs, I didn't mind hanging out because my main motivation was to be with females as much as possible. I really enjoyed their company, although my hope of being more than just friends with Barbara didn't seem very likely, since Debbie was always there too. Maybe she was looking out for her younger sister. The girls sat on the couch and I would be on the floor leaning against it, while we watched TV and talked.

Usually Barbara would get sleepy and decide to go to bed, which disappointed me, but Debbie almost always said she was going to stay up and it was OK for me to stay, so I did, but I thought that she just wanted to pump me for information on my brother. I figured she was insecure about the status of their long distance relationship.

One night, when Barbara had already gone to bed, Debbie said she was going upstairs and that she'd be back in a couple of minutes, so I sat there staring at the TV while I waited for her to come back down and start the interrogation.

I was really surprised that, when she returned to the living room, she was changed for bed -- and not into pajamas, but into a nightgown. Back then it was more common for girls to wear nightgowns instead of pajamas. It wasn't one of those sheer baby doll negligees, but, nonetheless, it was a lightweight summer nightgown. Not lightweight enough to be see-through, but lightweight enough to draw attention to the curves of her body -- and it wasn't very long. It came down to a couple inches above the knee, short enough to expose some thigh. Of course, I'd seen her in the short-shorts of that era, but a nightgown might provide an opportunity to catch a glimpse of her panties. Ah, yes.

Debbie wasn't the "very pretty" Barbara that I had a crush on, but, nevertheless, she was an attractive young woman -- in a nightgown -- and I enjoyed looking, even if she was my brother's girlfriend.

She wasn't that long haired blond, blue eyed, large breasted, long legged young woman who causes you to stop and stare when she passes. She was a normal young woman in her early 20s.

Debbie was very likeable. She had a nice personality and was genuinely caring, but was a little ditzy and sort of quirky. Physically, she was a pretty normal girl, who wore glasses like me after she removed her contacts at bedtime. Debbie was shorter than me; I'd say about 5'4". She had a light complexion, streaky medium blond hair that she wore in a short bob cut, green eyes, and a round shaped face. Her breasts weren't very big, probably a large B cup, but you know what they say -- "more than a mouthful is wasteful". She wasn't skinny and wasn't fat, but had the solid body of a more mature woman. Her waist was narrow, her hips were curvy, and I'd describe her legs as ample -- not fat, but solid.

And her legs were silky smooth. She had previously revealed that she was getting electrolysis to permanently remove the hair from her legs so she didn't have to shave them.

Debbie sat down on the couch and, since Barbara had already gone to bed, she patted the cushion next to her and told me to come up onto the couch. As I sat next to her I could smell a combination of the lingering fragrance of perfume she had worn that day and the freshness of her just having washed up. Being so close to a woman in a nightgown who smelled that good, had me feeling a little jittery. It was then that I recognized how powerful the sense of smell was in sexual attraction, but I managed to keep my composure.

We alternated between looking at the TV and talking about mundane things; but soon Debbie steered the conversation to my brother. She told me how much she missed him and asked how he was doing in Germany -- and if I knew whether he was going to be sent to Vietnam. She pumped me for any information I might have had from letters my brother would send home since she probably thought that he might be hiding something from her in their correspondence. I said that we didn't write each other but from what I knew, he probably wasn't going to Vietnam.

However, I was having some difficulty paying attention to her questions, as I couldn't keep my mind off her nightgown clad body and her alluring scent -- and I think she noticed. When she said she was going to bed, she saw me to the door and devilishly pushed me out, saying "Go home Robbie D". She used my last name in that playful "faux formal" way. I reluctantly made my way down the steps and through my yard into my house, my stomach tied up in knots, and thinking -- or should I say -- fantasizing about her.

Anyway, we quickly developed a pattern where we would watch TV for a while, she would "slip into something comfortable", and I would stick around until the wee hours when she got tired and sent me home. She worked during the week at some retail place, but I don't remember what it was. We did this a couple of times a week, including Saturday night, and I never got tired of being around her, so I never made a move to leave on my own. I was very comfortable being around her, but she was driving me crazy and I didn't know if she had caught on. But it seemed that questions about my brother became less frequent and maybe she was genuinely enjoying our time together. I was really wishing that something would happen between us, but she'd have to make the first move. What if she would laugh at me if I made a pass at her? I was very shy around women and rejection would crush me.

Then one night, after Barbara had gone to bed and Debbie had already changed into her nightgown, she was sitting with her feet on the edge of the couch cushion and had her hands wrapped around her knees sort of holding her nightgown in place and her legs together. I was still on the floor when she started asking me about my personal life -- my love life, or more correctly, my lack of a love life. She asked me if I was dating and if I had ever approached that cute girl she used to tease me about. Well, I was glad that I wasn't sitting right next to her on the couch because a little distance helped me deal with my embarrassment, since I had to admit that I wasn't dating anyone. I was still too shy. And, simultaneously, although the door was opened, I missed an opportunity to ask what she knew about her sister Barbara's love life. I love a pretty face and hadn't given up on her yet.

Well, I was still on the floor and was turned around towards her when she put her hand on my arm. I thought she was just being sympathetic to my plight and it was a compassionate gesture. And she had that look on her face like she was concerned and said something like, "Don't worry, you'll find someone".

But, as the conversation continued, she started to lightly trace her fingernails up and down my arm. I didn't know what to think of it, maybe she was just doing it absentmindedly, however; in any event, I loved the touch of a woman and tried to be nonchalant about it so she wouldn't stop. After a while she moved her hand up to my shoulder and gently rubbed then softly massaged it. That felt good. But the next thing I knew, she was running her fingers down the back of my neck. And I became more and more aware of the sweet fragrance of her perfume and her just washed freshness. I was breathing in her scent and was shivering with excitement -- and my mind began racing.

What was she doing? Was she trying to seduce me? Where was this leading? Where was her hand going next? Should I get on the couch? Was I going to get "lucky"? Was I going to get laid?

Then reality hit. What was I thinking? She was my brother's girlfriend. She was probably just being friendly in a "touchy feely" sort of way. You know the kind. When you see them, they are always hugging you and touching you when they're talking to you and sort of petting you and letting their hands linger. I have a close friend whose mother does that all the time. She treats me like her son and I know she's just showing me motherly affection and nothing more. But sometimes I wonder.

And with me being a horny teenager, I'm sure that my surging testosterone was clouding my reasoning, and was probably the main culprit causing me to misread Debbie's friendly innocent touches. It was all in my mind.

Well, I was turned around toward her with my hand on the cushion and as she re-positioned herself on the couch, her bare leg came in contact with my hand. I thought it was accidental on her part, but she didn't move her leg, and I didn't move my hand away. I glanced up at her and she acted like nothing had happened so I left my hand there while we continued talking and she continued to mischievously send chills down my spine with her fingernails on my neck. And I was touching her leg -- and she wasn't complaining -- so I imagined that I might at least be "on deck" and maybe "in the batter's box". Could I possibly have a chance to "get to 1st base"? Her leg was silky smooth, without the stubble that you feel when a woman hasn't shaved her legs recently. No "5 o'clock shadow". I silently thanked her for enduring the pain of electrolysis, as my cock started to twitch in anticipation.

And I wondered what it was like at the top of those legs. At the time, porn generally featured women with unshaved pussies and some with downright overgrown bushes. I wondered, too, what it would be like to run my fingers through a jungle of tangled pubic hair -- as my cock continued to swell.

After a while, since she didn't seem to mind the contact, I deliberately, but ever so slightly, moved my hand. I was hoping that by brushing my palm up against her leg, I'd get a better feel of her smooth thigh. So, she startled me and I pulled back when she suddenly said, "Robbie D (using my full last name), you dirty little boy, are you feeling my leg?" I guessed I had just "struck out". But, it was the way she said it, not like she was scolding me, but in that teasing "faux formal" way, that made me wonder if she was giving me a warning or giving me a signal.

Was I misreading her? She was my brother's girlfriend. I froze. And seeing my confusion and uncertainty, she said it was OK -- and then asked me, kind of coyly, but also kind of seductively, if I wanted to rub her leg.

Although I was in shock and stammered, not knowing what to say, my eyes obviously lit up and flashed "Yes". She certainly wasn't misreading me, so she picked up my hand and placed it on her thigh. I guess I had made it to the batter's box. My teenage cock was now as hard as a rock -- and I'm sure she guessed as much, even though my crotch wasn't visible to her since I was still sitting on the floor. Well, I was trembling. This was the closest that I had ever been to having a sexual encounter with anything but my own hand.

I didn't know what to do, but as my fingers tentatively traced their way up her thigh, she whispered "Oh Robbie". I know that that "Oh Robbie" quote sounds made up, like a cliché from a romance novel, but that's really what she said -- really. Her response encouraged me to be more deliberate in caressing her thigh and to reach higher. As I was rubbing along the outsides and the front of her thigh, her soft moans of pleasure let me know I wasn't overstepping any boundaries. Emboldened by her sighing, I ventured to the insides of her thighs -- they were softer and had a creamy texture. And as I continued my journey up her thighs, pretty soon my fingers were brushing up against the already wet crotch of her cotton panties. I stroked there for a while and continued to apply more pressure against the wet cotton material, when she reached down and pulled the crotch aside.

Well, I was dumbfounded. Unlike the bushes I'd been accustomed to seeing in porno flicks, her pussy wasn't covered in hair. It seemed like she did some maintenance down there too, just like her legs. She still had a triangular patch of pubic hair that stopped just above the opening, so although her pussy wasn't completely hairless, her pussy lips were smooth. She obviously took care of herself down there and I interpreted that as overtly sexual. I can imagine the fun she must have had trimming and shaving to remove any hair from her pussy lips. I'm sure that the process is very self stimulating.

Unless, of course, she had undergone electrolysis there too -- but that's just too painful to think about.

So I gazed intently at the first naked pussy that I had ever seen up close -- in the flesh -- in real life. In the dim light being emitted from the TV, I could see her pussy lips glistening with her juice, and I liked what I saw. I'd say that her pussy lips were plump but they didn't entirely cover her vagina. There was just enough of her buried treasure showing to make me want to explore further.

And I became aware of a new smell. It wasn't perfume, but it was an interesting fragrance, a heady and totally exhilarating one. I had never experienced the scent of a sexually aroused woman before, but I sensed that this was it. What I was smelling was Debbie's pussy; and I wasn't turned off by the smell as I expected I might be. Guys always joked that pussy smelled like fish, but Debbie's surely didn't. The smell was sort of tangy and at the same time sweet. It was definitely the fragrance of pussy and I liked what I smelled. I breathed in deeply, like I was inhaling a cigarette, and I held her scent in my lungs as long as I could before I exhaled. I wanted to capture her fragrance -- the very essence of her femininity. It was so stimulating. I immediately fell in love with her pussy.

As I continued to move my fingers tentatively along the outer lips of her pussy, she spread her legs wide, slouched down a little more and slid her ass forward so that my fingers slightly penetrated her. I heard quiet but more passionate moaning and I shivered with anticipation. I gently pushed further inside and found her inner lips. They were slick like her outer lips, and the fluid felt a lot like the pre-cum that seeped from my cock when I would get aroused. At that point, I was feeling a little slick myself inside my underwear.

Any thought that I was betraying my brother had long since vanished, and, upon reflection, I think I was making it much less likely that she would stray. As a matter of fact, I feel sort of proud that I was keeping it all in the family. I wasn't a "dirty little boy" like Debbie had said, I was a "good little boy". Even now, I can still feel a sense of pride welling up in me -- or is it the blood rushing to my cock?

Debbie's breathing became deeper and she let out a more impassioned moan when one of my fingers slipped past her wet lips and eased into her tight vagina. I gently probed her, not wanting to hurt her and ruin the moment for both of us. Her pussy was warm and moist and enveloped my finger like it was welcoming me with an affectionate hug. But this was more than an innocent hug. This was so erotic. I knew that I had run right past 1st and 2nd bases and was sliding safely into 3rd base.

I was having my first sexual experience -- with a girl. Instead of having my fingers wrapped around my dick, I had my finger in a girl's pussy -- a girl several years older than me. It felt so good, so soft, so moist; and she was gently whispering, "Oh, Robbie", letting me know she approved.

It was quite evident that I had really turned her on -- or maybe it was the salacious thrill of having her first sexual experience with a boy a few years younger than her, who also happened to be the little brother of her boyfriend, that was driving her response. In any event, I was elated that I was pleasing her.

I played there for a while until she reached down and pulled my finger out of her pussy and told me that I needed to stop. I was confused about why, but it seemed like she was a little embarrassed or felt guilty. Much to my disappointment, that's as far as it went that night, but after she pushed me out the door and told me to go home, I masturbated in my bed while I breathed in the smell of her pussy on my finger. Guys always referred to fingering a girl as "playing stink finger", but I didn't see why -- it didn't stink -- I liked the smell -- a lot.

Our nighttime adventures continued throughout the summer and included an expanded "curriculum". I say curriculum because we assumed the roles of teacher and student. She was teaching me how to please a woman and it seemed to me that, as her student, I was learning quickly and passing her tests with flying colors.

She often invited me to sit next to her on the couch and would lift up her nightgown to expose her tits. Her medium sized tits were firm and pert. I would cup them in my hands, lightly squeeze them and rub my palms over her nipples and she would comment, saying things like, "that's good", or "not too hard", and "just like that". And her nipples were pleasingly puffy -- just right for sucking, so I was frequently on the couch lightly massaging her breasts and sucking on her delicious nipples, while she would stroke the back of my neck, and run her fingers through my hair making comments like she was tutoring me.