Where it happened: his house
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 4
Category: Straight
A woeful outcome ensued from my
Yuletide “first time.” My beau was a year
older and I was convinced I was going to
lose him when he went to college. Tim
wrote to me but his letters did nothing to
reassure me of his love. The problem was
that his mother, who herself grew up in days
of breach of promise law suits, drilled into
her son, “Never write anything in a letter
you wouldn’t want read out in a court of
law,” so his letters were newsy but not very
personal. I was certain he was seeing
another girl.
I was very relieved when Tim
was glad to see me two days before
Christmas but we simply couldn’t get alone
together for courting. He had given me three
presents, one to put under the tree and two
private ones. The under the tree present
was a china mug with his college seal on it,
filled with pencils. There were definite
rules back then about presents to one’s lady.
Articles of clothing, let alone jewelry, were
considered too personal. So the “pencil mug”
was a proper present.
My private presents were
indeed private and as improper as they
possibly could be. One was a bottle of
Channel Number Five perfume, not toilet
water, not cologne, but perfume and very
costly. The other, a battery operated “health
massager.” At first I couldn’t imagine what
the massager was for and when I started
thinking along the lines of what would also
be improper; it was labeled as waterproof; I
realized it was the right shape and all….and
my whole body burned. It was a good thing I
was alone when I opened it. I usually took
my radio into the bathroom when I lay in the
tub to soak. My family would let me soak as
long as I pleased as long as the others had
retired. Using the massager was a most
splendid experience. The next morning I
tried the massager again under my
eiderdown. The extravagance of the perfume
was proof evident that I remained the sole
object of Tim’s affections and they were
passionate affections indeed.
My modest presents
for Tim shamed me–a framed cross-stitch
sampler and a tin of fudge. More
to the point, I knew that I better become
less of a correct lady if I wanted to keep
him through his subsequent semesters as
well. We still hadn’t had a chance at decent
courting. I began to give him covert,
immodest touches at various times when I
kissed him on the cheek, (as he was putting
on his overcoat in the front hall, for
example.)
Our opportunity came when his
family was going out the night we were
supposed to be going to the movies. Instead,
I suggested we skip the movies and drive to
his house. I resolved to give him an indecent
delights such as alluded in snickered
discussions at school. Tim was certainly
pleased when I led him into the sitting room
and lay down on the rug after a few minutes
of kissing on the davenport. After a bit
more kissing and hugging I unzipped him and
began to fondle him purposefully. Then he
reached under my skirt and began to
massage me. It felt so good, I pulled my
drawers aside so he could do it better. The
most I ever permitted Tim before this
evening was the privilege of fondling my
bosom and then it was through a
handkerchief so it wouldn’t leave marks on
my blouse.
All of this was feeling so good
but he stopped my hand saying we would
have a mess if I continued. Just then, I was
wishing I had that disgraceful appliance
along when then I thought, “What am I
about? I have the real thing here and there
wouldn’t be any mess if….” There were only
seconds between my impulse and Tim’s
completion. Only after did I consider the
possible outcome and I pushed Tim off in a panic.
I had intended merely to give
Tim comfort with my hand. Tim had
returned the favor and it felt so agreeable.
It was my thoughtless impulse that caused
this to happen and it was precisely that, an
impulse. I simply acted the moment the
notion entered my head. I remember it
clearly to this day.
I behaved very badly. I accused
Tim of being self-seeking and putting me in
jeopardy. I was enraged with myself but I
rebuked Tim. I leaped out of his car and
dashed into my house. My parents knew
something was wrong but I admitted nothing.
I suffered morning sickness and
my curse was overdue. I wrote a frantic
letter to Tim telling him I was expecting.
Tim replied, promising me wedlock and he
wrote his parents. He embarked on a two
day bus trip for home. My curse came
twenty days late and it was not normal. In
retrospect, I likely had conceived but
miscarried. I was unable to reach Tim when
I tried to phone him. I kept running out of
coins and the official at the college
demanded to know the exact nature of my
emergency. I did not know about his
disclosure to his parents. Our secrets were
no longer secrets.
Tim spoke his first and final
harsh words at me. He correctly pointed out
that he was in a vulnerable moment at his
house but he was prepared to take
responsibility because it was his folly too,
that he knew it was wrong to return to an
empty house with me but he did, and that he
should have controlled himself but he didn’t.
It was my blame alone for failing to mark
my personal rhythms, thereby causing a
false crisis. He was not prepared to drop
out of college to marry me when there was
no longer a need and he wasn’t prepared to
defy his parents who now demanded we part.
With that, Tim took the next bus back to
college. Amidst tears, I discarded my
private presents before my parents would
discover them.
My lapse remained a secret
within our families but the lessons were not
lost that I required even closer supervision.
Until my wedding later that year, my
courting activities were either chaperoned
or confined within my family’s parlor. My
late husband, fourteen years my senior, was
not a man ever to concern himself with his
wife’s happiness. Losing Tim is my lifetime
regret. Times are so much improved for
young people today.
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