And I worked hard to give it to him. Luckily he never mentioned anything about only practicing with him.
Obviously the end goal was to give him a better time in bed. That was never in question. Every dick I rehearsed with in the interim was to that end. Of course, I never told him that's what I'd done, that's how I'd improved. But by the end I was fucking him so good he never thought twice about it anyways.
I understood where he was coming from. At the time he suggested it I'd only ever slept with one other guy. It was before I'd started college, which is where I met my bf.
It wasn't really "normal" how it'd happened either, my first "experience", I mean.
My dad ran this kind of club for out-of-towners to introduce them to the locals and "network" - which mostly consisted of playing poker poorly and downing drinks to the collective moans of what damage each respective member's wife or girlfriend had done that day. And even though the group had always been about eighty percent male, even more were teachers. Our town straddled the line between talebearing community and burgeoning burg, but without the college at the heart of it it'd be basically non-existent on the map. Almost everyone either worked there or had something to do with it. It was called Bulleens University, but that wasn't the name of the town. The school had been built first. And it was about as old and fusty as the people running it. My dad's group had about thirty-odd professors over sixty years old. I think the most interesting thing I ever overheard them saying was that hearing aids can remember locations you've been to. Yeah, I know right. Wild. It was run out of Bulleens' library, which was one of the biggest in the entire state. And it was the first place I ended up having sex.
I think he was about thirty. I've still never found out. He'd started teaching here only about two weeks before he joined the group and I met him. My dad did the usual thing of introducing him to "legacy" members and plying him with drinks he probably didn't like. Not every week but maybe a couple times a month I'd be there, usually with a few of my friends so we could sneak booze. Like me they were 19 then, but unlike me most of them had already started college. I hadn't really known why I hadn't - whether a lack of spark about what it was I actually wanted to pursue, or whether it was my dad's reputation and bonds within the college community that had made me feel like I had to etch it in as a part of my life's script, and the pressure was too much to willingly walk into. My friends were already having fun, skipping class, fucking, and I was still living at home, jobless, car-less, sexless and single. Obviously the FOMO rose to insane degrees, especially when they'd use wild anecdotes to pressure me to "join". But I just never felt like that was a good enough reason. How cool would I be when all the signs pointed to my fortified future as a homegrown, dope-smoking, college-jersey-donned townie, but instead I gave my dad and friends the finger and girlbossed my ass off without ever stepping foot inside a classroom. Or even if I turned my back on Bulleens and went interstate to start some promising career in fucking Puppet Arts. The idea of leaving mouths around me agape at my proud dissidence was always more enticing to me than joining their club of the moment and surprising no one.
I think that's why he was my first fuck. He got me. He got it. He didn't look at me like I should have something to prove, someone to prove wrong. But just as a cute 19-year-old who was good to talk to and had a great ass. And yeah, back then I wouldn't have said so, wouldn't have been so cocky, but after so many more cocks I feel now I finally have the right. I'd even caught him glancing at it those first few weeks after he'd joined. My dad had introduced me to him as "my daughter", but as soon as that first meeting was over he seemed to forget that's ever what I was. If he mentioned my dad to me he only ever used his name. Whereas most others always kept me in that daughter-of-our-esteemed-coeval box, especially if they were close with my dad.
I remember him introducing himself before my dad had the chance to do it for him. I shook his hand, and he looked me right in the eyes. I remember thinking I didn't like his name. Conner. Felt like something I'd read on a name badge behind the counter at a bad fast food chain. But it quickly dissolved behind his good looks. Tall, dark, handsome. The works. Looked kinda European but spoke with a deep Californian accent that sounded rich and manly. We only exchanged a few sentences in which I found out he was teaching and then my dad took over and they kept on as I quietly made my exit.
But I watched him all night.
My friends I was with at the time kept saying he was hot, but too old. I disagreed. For me the latter fed the former. They guzzled gentian as they always did but I sipped and watched him and sipped some less. Later that night we talked again when a round of poker had started, my dad at the table surrounded by boring bystanders, and he was by the back of the reading room between the new fiction section and the computer banks. I normally left when my friends did because my dad didn't roll over till past midnight. That night I stayed.
We were close enough to the rest of the group as not to feel our conversation was suspiciously clandestine but far enough to not be heard. He asked me about my plans for the next few years and naturally back then I had little to say.
"And you?" I asked. "You think you'll be here for a while?"
He started nodding. "I do. It's an awesome college."
Awesome
, I mouthed back as if some foreign term. He didn't notice.
"And Bill's been a great help. This teacher's group is a good idea. Although he's not a teacher himself, is he?"
"He used to be," I said. "Then he semi-retired but stayed on the board."
Conner nodded again. Looked at me a second too long.
"And your mom? She teach too?"
"No, she never did."
"Ah. So who do you think you'll end up taking after?"
"Well not her I hope, she's been in the ground for nine years," I said.
That startled him. I guess I'd already shrugged off how macabre those casual revelations could come across to people just because of how much time had passed.
"Oh, well... I apologize," he said.
I looked at him then. Left my eyes open.
"Don't."
Before the night ended I knew he'd take my virginity. Really for the cursory case of why the fuck not. I'd been good back in High School. Too good. While my friends had been railing the lacrosse squad every second off-period, I was peeking out from behind my dark bangs at a workbook, the contents of which I'll never again recall. So yeah, for all the fucking good it did me. The worst I ever got was in my senior year, giving a handjob to my then boyfriend Carl Roker and getting caught by my friend's bf who would then bring it up every time we were all hanging out. My inexplicable reaction to this was, in the penultimate week of school, sucking him off behind the art classrooms till he came across the collar of my blouse. Never brought up that stupid handjob again. My friend, who was his girlfriend found out, so did Carl, and they both finished with me, explosively. Don't remember saying much in my defense. It just felt right at the time. Half the guy's from my grade found at as well, so those I did keep in contact with the year after school finished loved maundering on about it every chance they got. And yeah, I ended up blowing a few of them too. Maybe it's this innate need to keep moving forward, forget the past, and I knew that was the quickest way to do it. Every one of them I made cum never talked about my prior "indiscretions" again. Even though I'd never openly call them that. After all as I said, I kept the most important aspect of innocence till Conner came along.
The night it happened was a couple months after our first meeting. Probably would have happened sooner but I knew we both felt there was never a good chance. I'd only seen him once outside the teacher's group, when my dad had to go to a board meeting at Bulleens and I went to hang with my friend Paula, who lived in the dorms.
I didn't really smoke so I just sat in her room while she torched up and recounted some rant on gerrymandering her sociology professor had graced her class with that morning. She was cheeched pretty quick so I left and not much later ran into Conner in the halls.
This time he was pretty loose with looking at my chest and I told him if I could get into one of his classes I'd very maybe consider going to college, which I'm pretty sure was enough to make his dick hard. It wasn't even like we'd ever been so intimate, even in conversation. We'd talked maybe five solid times across the eight or so weeks since we'd met, but we both knew he'd probably be willing to do anything to fuck me - if he knew I was up for it.
The next teacher's meet my dad was out of town. Not that I'm sure that even would have mattered. My friends and I got there early, before the library filled out. And we drank. The four of them I was with were all flirting with a few of the younger members within a couple hours, and thankfully it was a busy night, about sixty in total, so no one noticed when Conner and I disappeared.
