EVERYONE IN THIS STORY WHO ENGAGES IN SEX IS EIGHTEEN OR OLDER AT THE TIME THEY HAVE SEX.
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I have been married to Karen for twenty-five wonderful years, and I knew the first time I saw her that I wanted her for my wife. She was seventeen at the time and a senior in high school. I was twenty and just starting my sophomore year at one of the local Universities. Her beauty took my breath away. She was a tall, lean blond with sky blue eyes. At first glance, I estimated her height to be around 5' 6," and she weighed maybe 120 to 125. The most noteworthy thing I noticed was her marvelous rack. There again, it was just a guess, but I was reasonably sure they were at least 36Cs.
When I saw her that first day, I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and smother her with kisses. However, I was the strikeout king when it came to approaching a beautiful woman. I had spent my entire freshman year at college, learning how to approach the opposite sex successfully. I was turned down numerous times by some of the most beautiful girls on campus. Through trial and error, I had perfected a reasonably successful approach. It wasn't 100%, but my chances had increased significantly. I took a deep breath and approached this breathtakingly beautiful girl as she scanned the shelf in front of her.
"Excuse me, Miss, but can you tell me which aisle I can find chicken noodle soup?"
She turned to face me with a puzzled look and then smirked, "You do know we are in a Hardware Store, don't you? I believe you want the Supermarket just south of here. It's in the same strip mall, but three doors down."
"Oh my, Gosh! I feel so stupid," I feigned. I even managed to produce a red face to bolster my smokescreen. My subterfuge appeared to be working.
She pointed toward the front of the store and said, "Go out the front door and turn right. The Supermarket is the third door down."
"Thank you so much," I said, then turn to leave. Before taking my first step, I stopped and faced the young woman again and added, "I am not from around here. I attend the University. My name is Sean."
"Well, don't beat yourself up over it, Sean. Even a smart college student like you could have made the same mistake," she answered, then turned back to what she was doing.
I stood there, baffled. That approach usually resulted in laughter and a lot of cheerful conversation. I then repeated, "My name is Sean. What is your name?"
She turned and faced me again. She looked at me for a moment like she was sizing me up. I was beginning to feel awkward. She took a deep breath then said, "Look, Sean, I'm sure you are a nice guy, but I am still in high school. I'm not quite eighteen, and I don't think my mother would approve of me giving my name and phone number to a guy your age."
"My age," I squawked. "Just how old do you think I am?"
"I don't know, Sean," she sweetly smiled. "You are in College, and I am still in high school. I'm what my mother would refer to as Jail Bait for a guy your age!"
"Jail bait," I grumbled? "You would be Jail Bait only if I had intentions of getting into your pants!"
At this point, I was totally dumbfounded. I was being accused of... accused of... I don't know what I was being accused of. My mind was racing to find the right words.
"Oh, so are you saying you have no secret desires to get into my pants, Sean" She giggled with a hint of a playful smile? "Am I too ugly to interest you in that way?"
"No! Not at all. I'd love to get into your pants," I blurted before realizing the implications of what I was saying. "I mean... I didn't... Oh shit! I...I mean... oh crap. I'm embarrassing both of us now. Let me start over again."
I was stumbling over my words and stuttering to the point of not making any sense at all. The girl reached out and placed her hand on my forearm and laughed, "It's okay, Sean. I know what you were trying to say. It's no big deal. I was having a little fun with you and jerking your chain a bit."
She reached into her purse and got a pen and paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to me. I looked at it with a puzzled expression on my face as she scurried toward check-out.
"That's my name and phone number," she shouted over her shoulder. "If you don't mind undergoing my mother's inquisition, you can call and ask me out for a coke or coffee some time."
I looked at the note again and saw that her name was Karen. "I'll call you, Karen," I shouted as she kept moving. She didn't look back but did give me the thumbs up over her shoulder.
I called Karen's phone number the very next day, and as luck would have it, her mother answered with, "Hello," in a very formal tone. Keep in mind this took place before everyone had their own cell phone.
"Good morning, may I speak with Karen, please," I asked in my most formal and friendly voice.
"Whom shall I say is calling?"
"I'm sorry. I should have identified myself," I said, trying to keep the exchange formal. "Please tell Karen it's Sean from the hardware store."
"Karen, Honey, it's for you. Someone named Sean, who works at the hardware store." I heard her mother say.
A minute later, Karen answered, "Hello, Sean," she giggled. "I didn't think you would really call after I told you about my mother. That usually scares guys away."
"Did you want to scare me away?"
"No... but I was afraid it might."
"Are you kidding? After the trouble, I went through to wrangle the phone number of the prettiest girl I have ever met," I boldly answered.
"Sean, is this a booty call? I told you how my mother feels about that sort of thing," she said in a somber tone.
Her candid comment took me by surprise. For a minute or two, I couldn't say anything. When I did start to speak, I was tongue-tied and back to stuttering and stammering again as I had at the hardware store. I was not making any sense at all. I was trying to collect my thoughts when Karen started laughing.
"Sean... Sean... calm down. I was only kidding you," she giggled.
I could feel the heat rising from around my neck as my face turned red with embarrassment. I was baffled by this gorgeous teenage girl who keeps me off balance with her spontaneous humor. It took me a minute to collect my wits, and the only thing I could think to say was, "Damn it, Karen, don't keep doing that to me. I can never tell if you are serious or not."
"Well, excuseeeee me," she huffed. "I didn't peg you as a stuffed shirt who couldn't take a joke."
Now I felt terrible about snapping at her. I liked this girl, I really did. I loved her contagious smile and her playfulness. I just wasn't used to someone as free-spirited as she seemed to be. I started to apologize, but she cut me off in mid-sentence.
"What time are you picking me up to get that coke or cup of coffee," she asked with a cheerfulness that conveyed she wasn't angry with me.
"What time can I pick you up," I asked? "I'm open to whatever time you want me to come."
"Let me talk to my mother and then call you back," she replied. "Give me a number where I can reach you."
I was in a phone booth at the time and read the number displayed on the rotary dial. Karen wrote it down and promised to call me back within the next fifteen minutes. After twenty minutes, I had become concerned that her mother may have nixed our going out together. I was just about to give up and mark it down as another letdown in my love life when the phone rang. I snatched it up on the first ring and said, "Did your mother give her... okay?"