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A Night Of Many Firsts

I had my first sexual encounter on a cold New England night in early October of my nineteenth year. It occurred in the front seat of Dad’s car with a young woman I barely knew, it was magical and has affected me ever since.

It was a night of many firsts, the first date with this young woman, the first time I got to see and feel and taste what had only been photos in Penthouse until that night, the first blow job I ever received, and as it turned out my first one night stand, since I never did see her again.

I was tall and still had the taught teenage body my growth spurt had given me. I’d joined the Navy the previous spring and was home on my first leave in the best physical shape of my life. She was the petite, younger sister of a school acquaintance who I had been aware of, but only peripherally. I knew who she was and that she was a cute little brunette with perky tits and brown eyes, but as my friendship with her older brother had ebbed somewhat by the time she blossomed, I didn’t know her well. She remembered me though apparently, because she’d passed her telephone number and the message that she wanted me to call through a mutual friend.

We flirted on the phone for a while, but since everyone used family phones located in the kitchen hall in those days, we couldn’t get too carried away (Imagine if you can, youngsters, a world without ‘sexting’!!). Still it was nice and let me know that she was interested in more than merely hearing about my time at boot camp. With my being just short of twenty and her just past her seventeenth birthday, we were somewhat limited in date choices but settled on the old standby – dinner and a movie. Little did I know that we’d be making our own show instead.

Now we may not have had camera phones back then, but we
did have cars built before bucket seats were invented. Cars had big, wide, comfortable, bench seats nearly as big as your living room sofa, they were much roomier than the backseat of any car on the road today and Dad’s car had one. Ah, you just can’t get into the hanky-panky like you could back then, with the bucket seats and center console blocking the way. What dad’s car didn’t have was a heater, although he forgot to mention that fact when tossing me the key. Oh, and you didn’t touch Dad’s radio dial – it was tuned to his station and the pre-set buttons didn’t work, so you mostly shut the radio off when borrowing Dad’s car.

So I picked her up that evening after dinner and she was looking fine in her tight blue jeans and a shirt that was loose enough to billow open exposing her bra and breasts when she moved. It was really quite captivating and I had a hard time concentrating on the road. But we went to a nice bakery for desert before the movie and some chit chat. She did really want to hear about boot camp it turned out, but she was also giving me smoking hot looks and playing footsies under the table. I’ve never been the quickest to pick up on feminine advances, but not even the naïve, nineteen year old, wet behind the ears version of me could miss the signals she was sending. So thinking I was being suave while unable to swallow and while holding my breath, I suggested that we go for a drive to the local version of make-out point and continue ‘talking’ rather than waste money on a movie neither of us was interested in. She agreed and before I could put the car into gear I had a throbbing erection – hey I was nineteen, of course it got hard; I got hard back then any time am attractive woman looked at me. Come to think of it, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

I eased the car off the road and to a stop where I could turn out the headlights without fear of the car being rear-ended. We talked some more about the Navy and about the military in general; all the while she was waiting for me to make my move. It wasn’t candle light, but the dim glow from back porch lights and overhead street lamps gave the car a romantic lighting that worked its magic on my date. She eventually mentioned how cool/cold the car was in spite of our leaving engine and heater running. I won’t tell you how many times she had to drop that hint while doofus me fussed with the dashboard controls to fix the heat. I honestly don’t recall, but it was several times at least and she finally gave up and simply said, “Well let’s cuddle then, to keep warm.” There might have been a small note of frustration in her voice, but there was also invitation and I realized the signals in the bakery hadn’t been hopeful misinterpretation on my part.

Our necking led to petting, and like any red-blooded young male, I had to see how many buttons she’d let me undo. The blouse was easy and the bra a pretty white. Nothing lacy or slinky like you’ll see at a club on a Saturday night, but a nice, simple, white cotton a bra and the greatest thing I had ever seen until she took it off. When she softly moaned in my ear while I kissed her nipples I felt the hunger swell. I’d tell you other things swelled too, but I’d stayed rock hard ever since the parking lot and my zipper couldn’t have gotten any tighter. In the parlance of the year and my age at the time, I had to ‘go for third base.’ Suddenly her hands were on mine and pulling them away from her belt buckle. I wasn’t rough, but I was nineteen and I kept trying; she didn’t say anything about it while kissing me, but she did keep pulling my hands away.

We played this exciting game of keep the hands away from her zipper for a while until I hit on what turned out to be the best idea I had that night. I thought that perhaps if she had a zipper to play with too, her hands would be too busy to stop mine. Once I moved her hands to the lump in my jeans and to the belt buckle above, I was in heaven. My date it turns out was very oral and she had my pants off and my throbbing cock out in less time than perhaps any other woman ever has since. She cooed and complimented me while fondling it, and yes once she had a zipper of her own to play with, she let my pull down the one in her jeans.

I fingered her for a while, while she fondled me. When I pulled my fingers out to smell and taste my first woman she slid away from me on the bench to where she could comfortably drop her head into my lap. How I didn’t explode as soon as her lips touched my shaft I don’t know, but I recall the excruciating pleasure, almost a burning sensation where her lips and tongue worked on my cock. It stretched for a glorious eternity in my mind while lasting a couple of short minutes in the car. I came with the all force and volume of my youth and she swallowed it down, then licked me clean. This was great, this was fantastic, THIS was why God had given me a dick!

It took a few more minutes of pleading on my part, but she relented and let me take her panties off. With no condom (I was nineteen and an idiot) intercourse was out, but she did let me explore with fingers and tongue. I remember her taste as somewhat bitter in a pleasant way, and her slippery firm softness was pleasure to my fingers. She let me fumble about in the way that most nineteen year old virgins will and made some appreciative sounds on those few occasions when I managed to lick or touch something correctly.

Eventually though our passion subsided, we noticed the temperature again and the time. It was getting late and we both had curfews to meet. That was when I noticed the state of the car windows, especially the windshield, which was covered in a HEAVY layer of frost. The temperature had dropped below freezing that cold October night, you see and Dad’s car had no heater. We had been huffing and panting for some time and you simply couldn’t see through the windshield for the frost our breathing had created. Dad’s car also didn’t have a scr*per since it was only October and snow was still a couple weeks off. So we sat there laughing, while using our driver’s licenses to scr*pe the window insides clear enough to drive home.
We called and talked on the telephone twice more while I was home those two weeks in mid October, but we never did go out again although I went back to the Navy with fond memories and a preference for forward, independent women who pursue me. I’m not really submissive in the Dom-Sub sense; I’m far too stubborn for that, but I do still prefer strong willed women who know what they want and will tell me (hopefully with dirty language and a sultry southern accent). I guess I made an impression on her too because although we never did see one another again, the mutual friend who had played Cupid told me some months later that she had joined the Air Force and told him it had a lot to do with our date and the discussion we had.

I believe she said something about a good job, travel and the chance to meet more cute guys in uniform. So somewhere out there are a few Airmen who owe me a debt of gratitude for talking this sweet, sexy wild-woman into the service.


End of Story