Our Last Wees Before College

I grew up in the shadow of a church college. The whole town was controlled by the church. They didn't sell alcohol in town ever, and they didn't even deliver the newspaper on Sunday. (I guess God doesn't like competition.)

The whole place was like a 50's tv show -- and I was one of the characters as a kid. Wholesome, apple cheeked. I'm embarrassed now just thinking about it. We all grow up though -- and even in our little town we learned about the birds and the bees, and teenagers would be teenagers.

It was mostly just comparably innocent stuff compared to today. We had no teen pregnancy and very few of the senior class couples -- even the long together couples -- had actually "done it." Or if they had they weren't telling.

As we readied to go off to college we felt like adults for the first time. Turning 18 had just been a number -- but moving out of the house and perhaps even across the country made it all real and different and somehow suddenly grown up.

That's what makes this whole thing stick out in my mind. How totally it seemed our world views changed during those last few weeks of high school -- and how it changed me forever.

I had been going out with the same girl for about 18 months -- a long time for an 18 year old - and we had made out just a bit on those rare occasions when we could get out without a chaperone. I hadn't really even gotten to first base. I tried but she slapped my hand away. We did enjoy each other though -- I think we were truly in love.

It was during the last few weeks of our senior year of high school when it all changed. She let me do things I had never done before.

It wasn't anything earthshaking. I had my hand on her bra for a while and then I slipped it in, thinking it would be slapped away but it wasn't. I actually got bold and put my hand on her stomach very near the top of her pants. (That did get sidelined.) But she was responsive. In fact she sat on my lap and actually rubbed herself on my knee a bit. It was mind blowingly hot -- but I didn't dare push it any farther.

I actually felt bad the next morning over what I had done -- perhaps I had taken things farther than we should have. It felt like she wanted it, but now I was worried she would be mad. When we saw each other at school, we were both embarrassed though she didn't shy away from saying hello and even giving me a little kiss on the cheek. (This was as much as we would dare at school.)

I never even let myself imagine she had really enjoyed it. Women only put up with men who were gentleman and I hadn't been.

We went on a few more dates -- always in well lit, chaperoned areas with our church. She squeezed my hand and I got a kiss good night -- but never more. It felt like that one night was all a fantasy and I all but forgot about the idea of doing more.

That all changed one glorious day. It was just big senior graduation dance. She had called me on the phone to ask me to come over. She wanted to show me her dress and make sure it was going to match my suit. (We didn't do rental tuxedos or anything and her dress was not a "prom" style like the ones most wore in other parts of the country. Such conceits were not welcome in our town.)

I walked to her house, heard the customary shout of "come on in" and entered the kitchen thinking I would step into the kind of family life that one imagines seeing in an early 1950s sit-com. It was always the same - her mom in the kitchen, her little brother at the dining table doing homework and her littler sister using her rationed 2 hours of daily television to watch some afternoon cartoons.

This time though, I met just her and her older sister Nancy - recently married and living in a nearby town. The two were chatting and laughing when I walked in, but all conversation stopped immediately, and while she went to get her new dress out of the hall closet, Nancy started gathering up some small things and pulled her car keys from her purse. She was actually headed for the door by the time my girlfriend pulled the dress out of the closet.

When Nancy shut the door behind her I was kind of afraid for a second. You didn't want to get caught alone in a girl's home by her father.

Cindy didn't seem to care though and that made me feel comfortable. Perhaps she knew something about the family schedule I didn't know.

She took the dress out and put it against her body. It was very pretty -- an light emerald color that looked amazing against her red hair and white skin. It looked really good when she put it against herself and smoothed it to fit the contours of her body.

Then she looked me in the eye and invited me up to watch her try it on. You could have frankly knocked me over with a feather. Before I could say anything she had me by the arm and pulled me up the stairs.

I know we were both nervous. I was downright scared. But she had enough confidence for both of us as she led me by the hand to her bedroom - a room which I had never even dreamed I might see. Once inside, she quickly shut the door, entered her closet - which I believed she was doing so she could slip into the dress - but then she slipped out holding a pair of very adult looking high heels and a package that I discovered a few moments later contained a very sheer white slip.

She looked me in the eye and quickly pulled her dress over her hips and then her head, and stood there in her bra and panties. I remember they were both white and perhaps skimpier than I would have imagined. Her panties were cut cotton, but cut low on the hip and tighter - not "Granny panties" or even "school girl" panties. They were definitely designed to be attractive. Her bra was also pretty sheer and I could actually see the outline of her nipples through the fabric and even a hint of pale rose color.

She took off the bra, taking a minute to look me in the eye with such a nakedly impish look that I almost swooned. Her breasts were the size of teacups and so well formed. I liked them better than the girl in the Playboy Magazine that a soldier from the church had shown me once.

She was absolutely beautiful. I wasn't that aroused really - well maybe a little bit - instead I was just so thankful. I had been given a gift and I knew it - and she did too.

She stood there for a moment just looking at each other. I didn't dare to let my eyes wonder too much down her frame, but she had more curves than I had imagined -- always until now been hidden under thicker clothes. (Even her swimsuit that summer had been an unappealing one piece that did not even hint at how good she could look.)

We didn't smile or grin or say anything. It was just this perfect little moment. We looked into each others eyes and we knew we had crossed some sort of threshold. I had always been quite fond of her, and we really enjoyed spending time together, but I suddenly loved her more than anything in my life and wanted to be with her always.

She opened the package and moved the beautiful slip over her head. It slid down in a liquid movement, again covering her beautiful young body. The dress was next - and she looked lovely in it.

She sat next to me on the bed while she put on the heels, and we still hadn't said a word.

She stood to model the combined dress and heels and stood there expectantly. I was in such awe that it took me a few moments to realize I was supposed to speak, and yet another to remember how to form words.

She was stunning. Amazing. Gorgeous. I said so with the passion and awkwardness of a man in love.

She giggled then, and pushed me down on her bed and then she bent to kiss me, in a much more passionate and mature way than we had ever done before. It was a romance movie kiss - the kind where the music swells and the cutaway scene is coming soon. It alone lasted longer than most of our prior "make out sessions" had ever lasted before.

She finally came up for air, and stood up again. I was satisfied. Elated. I was in a trance and just so happy.

She removed her dress again and hung it with care on a hanger. She removed the slip by removing the spaghetti straps and dropping it smoothly to her ankles, where she stepped out of it and then bent to pick it up.

She was still wearing the shoes - which I thought she was going to take off next when she returned to the bed, instead of sitting though, she pushed me down onto the bed.

I know the heels were kicked off while we kissed. They were simple slip ons, and I heard them drop one at a time to the floor. I was briefly scared that I was hearing her parents coming in the door and seized up a bit. She just giggled again - a deep, throaty, sexy giggle that I had never heard from her before - it aroused my passion - and she just kept on kissing me.

I wish I could say I was suave and sophisticated enough to take it from there -- but she was in the drivers seat the whole way. The panties she pushed down to first her thighs - then below her knees and finally off - much later. She was completely naked and I could taste and smell and feel that she was loving it.

I timidly put my hands just about everywhere at first, afraid I would do something offensive, but she finally smiled and told me it was all okay.

"I'm here for you. Nancy says that a woman's sense of decorum comes off with her dress. I want you to do things with me. To me."

I was still timid -- much too much -- so she took the lead in helping me to remove my shirt, shoes, even my underpants. She was the one that first acknowledged my erection -- at first just touching it and smiling and then using it as a tool to drive me wild. (I don't think she had ever done this before -- but I do thing perhaps she got some pointers from her sister.)

She was the one that rolled us over in such a way that I was on top of her. She used her hand on me to help me make sense of it all and get me into position. When I entered her tentatively, it was she that gasped in a positive way - letting me know that she was not hurt but relieved, and she began the hip movements that soon had me moving slowly in and out of her.

Perhaps it was because of how it happened - but I'm glad to say I wasn't a two minute wonder. We moved together for perhaps as long as 15 minutes, and she told me much later and I really do believe that she did cum before I did not once but twice - the second time her writhing around accounted for so much movement that I came as well.

It was crazy - almost suicidal - that after that we laid together for perhaps another 30 minutes, just kissing, cuddling and basking in the glow of what we had done together. If her parents had come home, I would have been dead. (And I mean seriously dead - this was a long time ago and young men did get shot for taking the virtue of another mans' daughter.)

There were no words. There was no embarrassment and just the littlest bit of giggling - most of which occurred when we finally began to assemble ourselves and I had a world of trouble finding one of my socks and she her underpants.

When we went downstairs, I found he older sister in the kitchen reading the newspaper. She had a smile on her face that old me she had little doubt what we had been up to. She giggled a bit when I turned red, and she took a moment to remind me that I needed to zip my pants before I left the house.

I didn't need to zip my pants -- she was just messing with me -- but it told me that yes she knew what we had been doing, but also that she was okay with it. That simple realization that she could basically set up her little sister to get laid gave me an erection all over again -- but one that I hid until I was well out of the house

My parents were slightly perturbed when I went directly upstairs to my room instead of helping set the table when I got home. I took a shower, hid my clothes until I could figure out what to with them. (Lipstick stains on the shirt - a smell of sex and guilt in the underwear.) I spent the evening in a daze and went to bed early.

The next morning she was a bit timid and we had to re-establish our comfort over the next days. I think she was afraid I would tell my friends. I did not.

I think I thought she wouldn't tell hers. She did -- and a few of her friends looked at me from then on in a way that made me believe that perhaps they had an interest in sex too -- maybe even with me.

Everything changed between us that day - some of it not so good - but a lot of it just fantastically. I probably would have married her, but her parents insisted that she do a few years as a missionary in order to insure her inheritance. (Her grandparents were loaded.) I went away to college first on the west coast and then in France, and our lives moved different directions.

Last I heard, she had married a pastor and was a respectable mom of 4 children living in Wisconsin. How different would her life be had we stayed together? How different would mine be? It's odd to think about.

All I can say is that one day changed my life and I will be forever grateful to Cindy. I hope she is happy with whatever her life choices were.