Intro: First I have to thank my dear friend AoE for encouraging me to write this story and for getting me started by writing the beginning of the story. I'm posting this in "first time" but in the unlikely event there is a part 2 it will be under erotic couplings.
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You often hear someone say, "You will never forget your first love." Well, I'm here to say that that statement is true. At least for me it was true.
When I was a young man, growing up in a relatively quiet neighborhood in Philadelphia, the girl next door was my fantasy girl for as long as I can remember. She was a year ahead of me in school, but that didn't stop me from trying to hold her attention. Even when I was a freshman in high school, I lusted after her. Now, as a junior, I wanted to ask her out more than ever. She was a senior and that kind of made her 'off limits' for me. However, that didn't change my opinion that she was the most beautiful girl in school.
It wasn't the first time I had those kinds of thoughts about her. In fact, I'm fairly sure that I had similar thoughts from the time I entered puberty. My "girl next door" was my favorite fantasy when I first realized what it meant to "jack off." In my youthful mind, she was a permanent resident. As I grew up, not much changed when it came to her residing in my thoughts. If an opportunity arose to make her notice me, I took it. If there was a chance to flirt with her I took it. If she even looked in my direction, I gave her a smile, a wink, a wave. I did anything and everything to get her attention.
The unfortunate thing, for me, was that I never got it in the way I so deeply wanted it. I wanted her to notice me as "a guy" and not "the boy next door" or "the friend." At the least, I wanted her to notice me as "the cute boy next door." That never really happened for me though, not in the real way I wanted at the time.
Yes, she was always nice to me. We were friends in more than a neighborly way, but only because our families spent a fair amount of social time together and we were often in each other's company. When we were together, our conversation mostly centered on things that were happening at school, with friends, in music, or the current hot issue of the time. She was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and even easier to look at.
We grew up in South Philly together. We were products of our environment and our family heritage. We lived in the area of South Philly that was made up of mostly Irish and Italian families. It's an area where family names have been around for over a hundred years. No one ever sold their homes, they just left them to their children and the next generation of the neighborhood was formed.
My family is of Italian descent. My Dad's family owned the trinity home we lived in for as long as anyone could remember. The wall, along the stairwell, leading to our second floor displays our family history and this house's history in pictures.
There are pictures of my great grandparents holding my grandfather on the front stoop. A stoop, for those of you not from South Philly consists of one or two steps, usually not more than four that leads to a small platform too small to be called a porch. No one in this area has a porch; we all have stoops.
The photo of my great grandparents shows them arriving home from my grandfather's christening at Saint Joe's parish. Saint Joe's is as much a part of this neighborhood as any of the families that live in it, if not more so. With a population of almost one hundred percent Irish and Italian families, Saint Joe's gets a workout. If an event is occurring in a family, Saint Joe's is involved. Christenings, Communions, Weddings, Births, Deaths, etc...all of the life events that occur in families, occur in one way or another, at Saint Joe's.
A little further up our family photo gallery is the picture of my grandfather kissing my grandmother with three dark haired boys of varying heights standing at their legs. The tall one in the center is my dad. Next on the wall is the picture of my parents in their wedding outfits, with the traditional pose, outside our front stoop. Interspersed between and around those pictures are a variety of family photos, holiday dinners, graduation photos, you know all of the regular events that end up memorialized in photos.
Anyway, like I said, families don't leave the area they just pass their homes and their history down to the next generation. It has its benefits and its drawbacks. The benefits are that everyone knows everyone and is very protective of each other. The drawbacks are that everyone knows everyone! If you grew up in this neighborhood, there wasn't a thing you could do, that was even slightly out of line that your parents didn't find out about one way or another. No matter how hard you tried to keep something secret, someone always saw it and told on you.
Given all of the pro's and con's of growing up in this neighborhood, there were more pro's than con's and I loved every minute of my years here. My favorites were the years between the ages of fourteen and twenty two when the girl of my dreams lived right next door to me and I was more than aware of it.
Aileen Katherine O'Reilly was close to perfect in my eyes. She was everything her name makes you think she would be. She was tall, standing about five foot, eight inches tall. She had an athletic body, not too thin and not too muscular. Her hair was a beautiful shade of strawberry blonde; more strawberry in the winter months and more blonde in the summer. Her skin color was what my mother referred to as "peaches and cream" and oh god, how I loved peaches and cream.
Aileen had clear blue eyes that were almost always smiling. A straight Anglican nose, covered with just the perfect amount of Irish freckles and a smile that always made you think she was happy to see you.
Ok, ok, I'd be remiss if I didn't also say she had a really great breasts. I don't know for sure, but I always guessed that they were the perfect size C cup. Perky and soft, but firm enough to stay up on their own. More than a mouthful, but just enough to keep a man's hands occupied. Christ, just thinking about them now gives me a hard on.
The rest of her body was pretty perfect too. She wasn't one of those petite Barbie doll girls. Aileen had a curved waistline and flared hips. Wide "birthing" hips they're called. Her ass was a little more than most, but it was faultless on her frame and I would know because I spent hours thinking about it. That is when I wasn't actually trying to get a glimpse of it.
Aileen was popular in school and every guy I knew would have been more than happy to have been able to call her his girl. She, however, had a different plan; her goal was to get an academic scholarship. She knew after raising five children her parents weren't going to be able to help too much with her college expenses and she had every intention of going to college.
Her dad and her three older brothers also had opinions on the subject of Aileen. The theme of their opinion was that Aileen was off limits. The word overprotective does not even come close to what the men in her family were like. No one wanted to mess with the O'Reilly brothers. They weren't big guys in a sense, but all three of them boxed and they never went anywhere without at least one other brother. That rule was extended to Aileen.
Her younger brother, Brian was in my class. We were friends and we both played on the basketball team together, but I never once mentioned to him how I felt about his sister. I surely did not mention any of the thoughts that frequently ran through my mind whenever I was in visual distance of her. Hell, I didn't even need to be in visual distance; I just needed to be able to picture her in my head.
The closest I ever came to carrying out even a small part of one of my fantasies was the night of her high school graduation. We were having a get together to celebrate her milestone and toward the end of the evening, she and I were the last two sitting in the backyard. The yards were narrow and the only way we could fit everyone comfortably was to open the gates between our two fenced yards.
