Wishing Back Rochelle 1

Wishing Back 18-Year-Old Rochelle

I used to like to go to garage sales and buy shit that I neither needed nor could sell. In 1998, Rochelle and my garage looked like we are hoarders, and maybe we were.

I went to this garage sale and there was nothing but junk. There was a broken ski, some old empty bottles, a prosthetic leg, and an oil lamp which was very tarnished and probably was not repairable. But the lamp and the leg looked interesting never-the-less.

There were two people at the sale, me and the woman whose garage it was. She was actually quite pretty, with fire-red hair, a cute figure and some big boobs. She also was showing some cleavage which was nice.

"How much for the leg?" I asked.

The woman replied with an Irish accent, "$50. Do you need a prosthetic leg?"

I decide to have some fun so I stole a line from the Chevy Chase film Fletch.

"I was hoping to lease it with an option to buy," I smirked.

I did not need a broken ski so I shifted the conversation to the lamp.

"What can you tell me about the lamp?" I asked.

The woman paused.

"It was passed down through our family from generation to generation to my father and then to me. I was given it by my father because my brother Lindsey is an asshole and they never got along," she answered.

"That's all? Well at least I now know that you have a brother who is an asshole," I answered.

Besides looking down her shirt every chance I got, I was having fun entertaining both of us. My objectives were twofold: seeing her nipples and buying something; in that order.

So, I turned my attention back to the crap she had for sale. The lamp was intriguing; maybe my brother could clean it up or I could get it resurfaced professionally.

"How much for the lamp?" Ok, I asked.

She walked over to the lamp, bent down, picked it up and looked under the base. Just seeing her bend down was worth the $20. Her ass was large and beautiful. My cock would fit in it nicely, but back to the lamp.

"Ok, for you, I can do $50," she offered.

$50 for a fucking old oil lamp plus another $50 for the prosthetic leg. That seemed like a lot of money unless there was sex involved, and in that case, $100 was money well spent.

I snapped out of it. My wife Rochelle was back at the house doing whatever she does;. Either Masturbating with her pink vibrator and pretending it was some guy she fucked, watching a murder mystery or making a pie. I haven't got a clue.

My ADHD kicked in.

Neither the other guys that she slept with in college, nor all the ones that she did whatever with in the 36 countries that she visited, ever bothered me. Actually, it did in the beginning of our marriage.

She says it didn't matter, and it didn't. What matters to her is that I never find out what her exact number is (I think it is 16 before she met me-or double that) or whether it has changed since we got married.

There's always that guy that she met in a bar over 30 years ago, which she denies to this day; the one still living in her head, and by extension, in mine. I can't shake the feeling that if their paths ever crossed again, she'd melt in his arms.

Whenever we play truth or dare, and I ask her about him, she suddenly doesn't want to play anymore.

There are two guys that were important to her and who she doesn't know either of their names; the guy she gave her virginity to and the guy she met in a bar one night when she was romantically and sexually frustrated in San Diego.

"$50 for the leg and the lamp, you land-lover," I said in a pirate's voice that cracked us both up.

"$70 for both," she responded.

I reinspected the leg to see if it was hollow. Was there any money or loot stashed in there? Obviously there wasn't.

I went with the $70 and tried once more to see if I could get a glance at her nipples or have her go lower on the price...I wasn't successful at either.

I put the leg in my trunk and tossed the lamp on the passenger seat next to me and drove home.

When I brought the leg into the house, and it was rather heavy.

Rochelle said, "Are you fucking kidding me Jerry? Seriously? What the fuck are you going to do with the leg? You're not fucking Long John Silber!" *

I put the leg down on the floor and went back to the car to retrieve the lamp. I passed right by my angry wife and went straight into the garage. This was not unusual. The garage was my man cave.

My garage always smelled like pot; I'm sorry, cannabis. I filled a bong with honey bud, a high potency bud dipped in hash oil with keef sprinkled on it. It was quite a cannabis cocktail.

After my fifth hit, I sat down on the couch and started to try to get some of the gunk off the lamp with a rag. I started rubbing the lamp and some of the tarnish was coming off as the rag got stained.

There was a lot of smoke in the garage and I decided to take a sixth hit and blew it into the spout of the lamp and watched it escape. All awhile I was starting to get tired from all the cannabis that I had inhaled.

It looked like a little lizard came out of the lamp. SoCal was full of them. Maybe he lived in it. My eyes were closing.

Maybe I was dreaming. The lizard looked and me and said, "Thank you for freeing me from this lamp. In turn, I will grant you just one wish. Wish wisely."

Damn it. One wish. World peace? The end of world hunger? Money?

It would have been awesome to fuck my wife when she was 18, with her legendary frosted hair. Her first romantic experience was unmemorable. But what if I was her first? What if she gave her virginity to me?

Rochelle was smoking hot in college. Every guy wanted to fuck her. She wore tight tiny shorts, no bra, with her tits barley hidden by a sheer shirt, or a thin, worn tee shirt. Her brown hair with blond highlights complimented her bronze skin. She was only 117 lbs. She was quite the woman and I wanted to be the guy that she loses her virginity with. It was my right as an American.

"Lizard, I want to go back in time to when my wife was a virgin and at college. I want to be there for 24 hours," I commanded.

The lizard looked puzzled. "Which one?"

I asked, "which one what?"

The lizard responded, "At college or...it doesn't matter. Ok, I'll grant you your wish."

My head cleared and I was back in college. But nothing looked familiar. It wasn't a college that I had ever been to.

There were all these guys that looked like they should be in beach commercials, and girls with tans and big tits. All the sudden, Rochelle had lustful competition.

I wondered around the main building and was surrounded by both students and faculty, but no Rochelle in sight. The other unintended benefit of the granted wish was that I was 18 again and all my body parts worked. Whoopee. I looked hot and this was going to be fun.

Finally, I saw Rochelle dressed exactly how I thought she would be dressed: in slutty shorts, a sheer worn shirt leaving little to the imagination, and frosted hair. I knew it. She was talking to some guy who was trying to ask my fucking wife out on a date.

I went over to her and through a wrench in her plans.

"Hey, that sore on your lip heeled nicely," I said.

The guy said he had to go and took off. Rochelle looked pissed.

"What the fuck! Who the hell are you," she yelled.

"Calm down. I'm your husband from the future and I'm inviting you over later for a drink and some coke," I said calmly.

Rochelle laughed.

"I don't even know your name-do we have kids in the future?" She asked playfully.

"What's your room number and I will be there at 9," I asked.

She lit a cigarette and handed one to me. I loved the smell of cigarettes that lingered around her body. I could basically see the outline of her boobs through her shirt; everyone else could see them as well. She was everything that I said she was, and everything she said she wasn't.

Ok now what? It was mentally two-thirty and I had no coke and no pot. But when I reached in my pocket, I found a credit card and $1000 in cash. Game on.

I found some dudes playing Hacky Sack and listening to "Europe 72". I asked them about scoring some weed and coke for me date. Did they know Rochelle...

"Rochelle dude? Everyone knows her. Just kidding. I have no clue who she is," the stoner said.

We were halfway through the song "Trucking" when stoner number 2 said his roommate deals.

The three of us went to Stoner number 2's dorm room. The dealer dude wasn't there so we waited and put on Boston's first recording; and waited and waited until it was like 5 fucking o'clock and he came through the door.

"Yo Stu', hi Carl, who the fuck is this guy?" He was acting paranoid like he had done too much coke.

"I'm Jerry, and Rochelle sent me here," I lied.

The dealer, who was known to many as "Capt. Lou," seemed relieved. Maybe he knew my wife? I know she hadn't fucked him since she was still a virgin. I know she did not blow him because she is my wife and she hates blowjobs, at least that is what she tells me. So, she must be his customer.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

"How much coke does she usually buy?" I replied.

"A 1/2 gram," he announced.

"Better give me two full grams," I concluded.

I tasted the coke. Not bad. I also bought some pot and bummed two Marlboro's, rolling papers and a lighter. My pocket was $300 lighter.

I found the local hamburger joint and had a bite to eat while I waited for 9 pm to roll around. I just kept rolling and smoking joints, while talking with other students and making the scene. I was pretty high.

Eventually around 8:50, I found her room. She let me in. Her roommate was putting on earrings. She was cute but had tattoos and purple hair. The roommate was not my type, not that it mattered.

Rochelle offered me a Winston which I savored like a glass of a fine single malt scotch, enjoying every inhale like it would be my last.

Finally, her fucking roommate left and we were all alone. Although Rochelle was wearing lose fitting jeans and a stretch shirt with her nipples not sticking out (which was rare), I envisioned her in just panties and a fancy bra kissing my neck and blowing in my ear.

I took her make-up mirror off her desk and placed it on the small table in the middle of the room. I sat down on the floor and she sat across from me.

I cut two lines and we each did one. Then I cut two more and she did another one and then a third. Her eyes had become glossy and she was very chatty.

I fumbled with the packets of coke between my fingers. Her eyes were entirely focused on the packets of coke...I was engaging in hypnosis.

I said, "Truth or Dare?" Let the games begin.

"Which is worse?" she thought.

After a pause, she replied, "Truth but it will cost you a bump each time I answer a question or take a dare." She laughed.

I put a few small piles of coke on the mirror.

Here was my first question, "Are you a virgin?"

"Yes." She did a bump and snorted loudly. She was getting very high.

"Truth or Dare?" She asked me.

"Dare." What the hell, right?

She thought for a moment. Interesting. She did not have a dare lined up.

"I dare you to kiss my right foot.," she said with a smile.

Weird. I started to remove who shoe. Her foot was rather petite and I did not mind kissing it. Maybe this was a prelude to something romantic. Wasn't that my end game? Otherwise, I wasted a wish, and the opportunity to meet and fuck my wife when she was just out of high school. It would have been just another one of life's regrets.

After kissing and massaging her foot, and then looking up at my wife Rochelle smiling, and we did a few more lines and cracked beers. Rochelle lit her third cigarette of the evening and the night was taking shape.

I asked her, "Truth or Dare?" She chose truth.

I was not going to let the opportunity to slip out of my hands, so I constructed a question.

I asked abruptly, "Are you planning on staying pure until you're married?"

She looked surprised.

"That is not a fair question," she protested.

"Why?" I asked.

"Ok, I will answer it; maybe," she said with mystery in her voice.

Classic Rochelle.

There, she said it. I still had a chance. Her turn.

"Truth or Dare!" she said loudly.

I paused. Ok this is getting interesting.

"Truth.," I answered.

She smiled. It was her turn to make me squirm a little. She had no intention of letting me off easy. Here it comes:

"How many times to do you masturbate a week?"

WOW! She has balls. That was not typical of the Rochelle that I am accustomed to. How do I answer?

I was a little uncomfortable answering the question but I responded with, "When I was having sex 4-5 days a week, I jacked-off very few times. Now? 3-4 times a week."

I lied. It was more like 6.

This set me up for a very interesting and kinky dare in the next round; but back to the game.

"Ok Rochelle. You got me on that one. Truth or Dare."

I had her backed into a corner. She knew either way, she was fucked, at least figuratively.

She bravely said, "Truth."

I wanted to flush out what her sexual activity since she turned 18; did she let any guys or girls touch her vagina. This was starting to get me excited and my cock stiffened.

"Have you let anyone other than yourself touch your vagina?" I inquired.

This time she blushed. Without thought, her left hand moved off her leg and partially covered her pubic area.

"Uh, no. Kissing was it," she said shyly.

We played a few more rounds of "Truth or Dare." I discovered that she liked to masturbate while she fantasized that various men were romancing her emotionally and physically. She discovered that I knew a lot more about her than she knew about me:

Where she was born.

Who her siblings were.

Her best friend's name.

Both of her nicknames.

The name of her high school.

Her major at college.

Finally she confronted me.

"Ok, who the hell are you?"

Rochelle demanded an answer.

I was in the process of cutting two lines and finishing my cigarette. I looked up at her and our eyes met. She felt the connection--was this the moment she had secretly longed for?

"Do you believe in the supernatural? I am your husband from the future. I made a wish and came back to share romantic encounter with you. In 1998, we are currently married and have two kids.

You confessed that your first lover was just ok, and you don't even remember his name. I used my one wish to come here and be your first lover, your best lover, until we once again meet again in 1994.

I want to make love to you now, and again, in the morning. To make your first orgasm with a man be with me.

There will be others along the way, but no one like me. You won't remember me as your husband, but you will remember the experience. You'll relive it for many years to come, pun intended," I informed.

She responded the way anyone else would in the same situation. She thought that she knew it was total bullshit, that I just wanted to fuck her and steal her precious virginity; and she was partially right. But there was more to it than just that. I wanted to implant my seed into her heart as well as my cock into her cunt. She would eventually be my wife after all.

She looked at me, with a straight face, hesitated and said, "Total bullshit."

I ignored her words.

I kissed her passionately like no man had ever kissed her and her hands grabbed my cheeks. She felt her inhabitations and virginity slip through her fingers as I maneuvered her over to, and then onto, the bed as we continued to kiss. I laid on top of her, hoping that the kiss would never end.

She was really horny as she let me touch her breasts over her shirt. They were not large, but perky and firm, with nice pointy nipples. We continued the kiss as I tried to pull her shirt up. We stopped kissing for a moment and she removed her shirt.

I blurted out, "Truth or Dare."

She said, "Dare."

"I dare you to..." but before I finished, she started undoing her jean's. She read my mind. She shimmied them off her and was wearing pink panties that had a wet stain in front of them. She was fuckin' horny.

I wasted no time. I threw her on the bed and pulled the panties down and threw my face into her bush. She spread her legs which gave me some encouragement. I responded by licking her pussy aggressively and before her long, her pubic hair was soaked in her cum and my saliva.

Her pussy was pink, perfect and smelt great. Her lips were so soft. Her hood sheltered her clit that was yearning to be stimulated.

She moaned and spurted out, "I'm fucking cumming."

But I continued to eat her out and enjoy the taste of my future wife's fresh pussy. She began shaking and it was oblivious to both of us that she was going to orgasm again.

Enough foreplay.

The kissing resumed and I jammed my cum covered tongue into her mouth so she could taste a woman's cum, presumably for the first time.

It was a night of firsts; Sex with a stranger, first time being eaten out and the big first, which was yet to come, pun intended.

Rochelle was like a showroom car, with a sense of pristine anticipation, maybe even a bit of nervousness or excitement about being "driven" for the first time.

She felt my hard cock enter her tight hole, stretching the walls of her young vagina. Her hole was an Orpheus of pleasure. My cock fit in there like it belonged in there.

I could tell from her face that it hurt so I was gentle as I stretched the walls of her vagina. After fucking her for a couple of minutes, I pulled out. She looked relieved. I switched to my finger and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. While I finger-fucked her, I used my thumb to simulate her clit. She came a third time and that was all she could take.

It was my turn. I started to stroke my erect cock with its tip wet with her cum. My breathing got louder and my strokes faster. Within moments my cock started spitting out cum all over her tan, firm body, with the majority of it landing on her tummy. My breathing returned to normal.

We fell asleep in each other's arms. The bed and her inner thighs were lightly stained with virgin blood. Her hymen was now pierced for sure.

The next morning, we woke up and her roommate was already gone. I started to kiss her and she was a bit reluctant. Maybe she was concerned about whether she got pregnant or had STDs. So, I did the only sensible thing that I could think of, I asked her.

"Honey, is everything ok?"

She cried.

I comforted her in my loving arms and she stopped crying. She shared with me her concerns about pregnancy and STDs.

I told her that I was STD free and that I would be right back. I went to the student lounge and bought condoms. Fucking condoms.

I brought them back to her and she smiled.

"I promise you that this time we make love it won't hurt. It will be magical. And I am a magician," I concocted. It sounded corny, even to me.

Her eyes gave me the courage to take off my clothes and lie next to her naked body. I fussed with the condom. I finally opened it and laid on the bed next to me still nestled in the package. I looked in her eyes and said, "I'm your magic man."

We started kissing as she moved her body closer to mine. My hands found her breasts as my cock started getting as hard as her nipples.

She caught me off guard when she rolled on top of me. Rochelle has always been submissive in the bedroom. Young Rochelle was very feisty. Maybe she was just impatient and wanted me in her at that very moment.

My cock slid into her willing and lubricated hole. She forgo the condom. I had wasted $3. She was figuring out for herself how to fuck from the top position. I was just a spectator at this point.

She decided on the classic cowgirl. She straddled me and sat on me like a horse. Her knees and shins were pressed to the bed. She bounced up and down on my erect boner until I could feel her leaking on me.