I was the first one of my family to go to college. We lived in Dearborn,
Michigan, and my brother and all my uncles worked at the Ford Rouge plant. My
brother was a die maker, and he earned a good living I had always thought that I
could do better, that I could become a scientist or a professor. In high school
I studied very hard and got the top grades, which earned me a partial scholarship
at Wayne State in Detroit, when I graduated from Fordson High. My family could
not help me with the school expenses, so I took on odd jobs. For most of my
undergraduate years I was a bell hop at the Dearborn Inn. My school work and the
job cost me almost eighteen hours a day. My body withstood the grind only
because it was young.
Every morning I rode the streetcar on Warren Avenue, which took me to the
university on Woodward Avenue. Since I am talking about steetcars, you know that
this is a story that happened a long time ago.
I was not a bad looking fellow. In fact, I was a bit cute in a youngish way. I
had blonde hair, a blonde face and a blonde body. But I was rather small. I was
eighteen years old, but people thought that I was fourteen.
My career plans were not certain. Just getting through college would have been
an achievement for me and my family. I chose to study history and German,
although those subjects would not get me far in securing a job with the Ford
Motor Company. I was an innocent boy, who, at age eighteen, was still a virgin.
I had never dated, and girls had never shown much interest in me, perhaps because
I was known then what kids now call a “nerd”. I did not do sports. In high
school I was in the chess club and band. I did not go to the senior prom,
because I did not have a date, and I did not feel bad about it.
Wayne State in the early fifties was, for me, a magical place where I could find
people who thought about things, all kinds of things. It was a working class
university, where people of all ethnic backgrounds were making their first steps
toward middle class professionalism.
I knew so much, yet I was yet so naive. The teaching assistant who conducted our
English 101 class hit upon me, and I let him have his way. I went to his
apartment one day and let him suck on my cock, which felt very good. It was the
first time that I had an orgasm with another person. But then he pushed me down
and forced his cock into my ass, which hurt awfully. I was then no longer a
virgin, but I did not know what I, in fact, really was. I was attracted to
girls, not to guys
There were a couple of girls whom I could have had, if I wanted. One was a stout
girl who was very pushy. On an outing she sang dirty songs and looked
lascivicouly into my face as we rode on the bus. I knew that I could fuck with
her for the first time, but I didn’t want to, because she was a bit gross. The
other girl would let me take her, if I would marry her, even though I didn’t know
her all that well. She thought that I had “character” and that I would make a
good husband. She belonged to an obscure Slavic tribe which valued such things.
The girl had fat thighs.
I remained a virgin throughout my freshman year, jerking off at least once a day.
I considered it sexual therapy In my sophmore year I met Nancy, who was as
socially awkard as I. She was, I must admit, a mousey girl; small, skinny and a
bit disheveled. She was bright, knowing German and French rather well. We were
drawn to each other, although we circled each other, looking for flaws. When we
first met, when we were still strangers, I told her that she would look better,
if she would put her hair into a pony tail. She scowled at me derivisely. But,
the next day, she appeared in class with her mousey hair in a poney tail, and she
seemed to me to be quite attractive.
She came to me. That is the only way I can explain it. She came to me and
waited upon me patiently. I wondered about her. She had put her hair into a
poney tail, and she had put some color on her childish lips. She came to me and
waited for me to accept her. I felt as if I were on the end of a limb. She was
cute, in a small way, I thought. She had no discernable breasts. She stood
before me, looking at me, expecting me to do something. I scarcely knew the
girl, but I knew that I was being presented with an opportuntiy that most guys
would envy.
I was mistaken. She let me touch her face with my fingers, but she refused to
let me touch her anywhere else. All that she wanted to do was to cuddle and to
kiss, which we did for the longest time. We were , obviously, two virgins. I
had fantisized about having a girl who was more experienced than I, who would
teach me how to do “it”. Nancy was certainly not that girl..
We kissed a lot during those first couple of days of our relationship. Nancy let
me fondle her shoulders and upper arms, which were a gaunt as an eleven year
old’s, but she sternly reject my attempts to feel her legs or her chest. We
talked incessently about history and philospohy. She was a philosophy major.
We tried to converse in German, buy my command of the language was not yet
sufficient. We were two “nerds” who had found one another.
After a week together we knew that we were a couple. I told her that I was a
virgin and that I was willing to surrender my virginity to her. Nancy was not
impressed, although she seemed to be a bit amused.. Then she became very
serious. She held my cheeks in both of her hands, her face very close to mine
and she said that she was not a virgin. She explained that in high school she
had had an affair with a classmate, another girl. It had lasted for just three
months, but during that time her partner had penetrated her with her fingers,
ripping her hymen. I was not too disappointed. I told her about my sexual
experience with the teaching assistant the previous year.
We were then more relaxed, having shared our secrets. We kissed with a new
desperation. I ventured to run my hand up to her chest, where I discovered tiny
breasts which were not apparent through her blouse. Nancy did not push my hand
away. I knew then that we were ready for each other; it was just a matter of
patience and timing. I unbuttoned the top of her blouse and inserted my hand,
encountering a bra, which, for Nancy, was entirely needless. I did not know how
to get the garment off, so I had to be satisfied with wriggling my fingers under
it to feel her tittie flesh. I wanted so much more, but we were sitting in my
‘48 Ford, parked in front of her house, and I didn’t have a condom.
Nancy let me run my hand up her leg, under her skirt, as we kissed passionately,
our tongues fully engaged. Her legs were very slender, but her thighs were warm
and soft. I touched her panties, which I found to be damp. I rubbed her until I
could tell from her reaction that I was touching her clitoris. I masturbated the
girl, and she eeked into my mouth, biting my lip in her passion. We cuddled
until she quieted. Then she looked into my face so lovingly. I thought that she
was the most beautiful girl in the entire world. She knew my need, but she had
no experience at all in how to give me relief. She placed her hand on my groin
and gently squeezed my engorged cock. I was so aroused. I urged her to continue
to knead my hard shaft as I burried my face in her hair, holding her tightly. I
came in my tousers, my hand on hers to make sure it was done properly. I nibbled
on her earlobe as I messed myself ecstatically.
Nancy knew what she had accomplished, and she looked into my face grinning. We
kissed some more and then she had to go in. As she got out of the car she poked
her head back in and admonished me to get some condoms.
The next morning, in the men’s room of the Parkmore Bar on the corner of Warren
and Anthony, I retrieved six condoms from the machine on the wall. I felt that I
could use all of them that day. I then took the street car to the university,
where I attended to my classes, looking, also, to catch sight of Nancy. I
finally saw her, and we arranged to have lunch together. over which I informed
her that I now had “protection”. She beamed a lovely smile at me, and our only
problem was where we would be able to do the deed. Certainly not at my house or
at hers, where too many people were about.
That evening Nancy and I drove the Ford out Warren Avenue to Telegraph Road,
where there was a cabin (motel) complex. I was very nervous, when I confronted
the lady at the office counter, but she was so blase. The place was, I later
learned, a notorious “doodle dashing camp”.
Once we were inside the small cabin, most of which was filled with a bed, we
became rather nervous, and we did not know how to proceed. I felt that I should
take charge, although it was not in my nature. I kissed her as we stood beside
the bed, and then I began to unbutton her blouse. I was clumsy in disrobing the
girl, but I managed it and finally she lay on the bed naked. Nancy was almost
scrawny. Her limbs were so slight. I could count her ribs. Her titties, as she
lay flat, were not discernable, but she had a lush bush of pubic hair. I thought
that she was pretty. Her little girl face looked into mine with such trust. I
undressed and soon stood over her naked, my hard cock jutting forward. Nancy
stared at it. I then lay beside her and we embraced.
We kissed and fondled each other. I sucked on her nipples and wanted to explore
her body with my mouth, but she was too eager to have me inside her. She pulled
on me, breathing unevenly, and I came atop her. She positioned my cock at the
opening of her vagina and we pushed together. I delighted at her warm tightness,
but Nancy went completely wild. She set the rhythym of our fucking, which was
almost violent. She scratched my back with her finger nails in her passion and
gave me a hicky on the neck. She groaned with increasing loudness and then
shouted out as her orgasm struck. I pistoned into her, slapping my flesh against
hers, and I came before she was finished. It was a most splendid beginning.
It is 1998 and we are still married.
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