A Sixties Story

I realise that young adults these days have no conception as to how ignorant many of us, born in the forties and fifties, were when it came to sex, even when, we were in our late teens and early twenties. However, I am not sure, that our ignorance didn’t add a certain piquancy to the process of getting to know about it!

Like many of my generation, I was a virgin at eighteen and fearful – yes, fearful of losing it. It was like a parachute jump – I really wasn’t looking forward to actually doing it, but I would like to say that I had done it. The fear came from the prevailing taboos – getting the girl pregnant and failing to perform.

I suppose girls felt the same – except that I didn’t know any girls well enough to discuss such matters.

I had lost my father when I was a baby and was brought up as the youngest of three brothers, where my other siblings were very much older and were therefore more like fathers to me. To make things worse, I was educated in all-male schools, so never cultivated the interpersonal skills needed to co-exist with girls.

However, I did possess a vivid imagination and a strong sex drive which, by the time I was 18, left me constantly trying to subdue a straining erection. Looking back, it is wonderful to remember a time of 23/7 erections. The one hour a day being made up of the short intervals after fairly vigorous ‘self help’.

When I say that my upbringing was almost entirely devoid of female company of my own age, it was not entirely true. My father’s youngest sister had produced her oldest girl child, Jenny, around the time my mother had me and, although we grew up at the same time, it was not in the same place. She was raised in the south and I, miles away, in the north.

Our contact was limited to family get-togethers or visits when Jenny and I would always be required to “play” together, since we were the same age.

Despite our ages, we never really got on as children, due in part to my lack of female experience – women were either, Mothers, Grandmas, Aunts or..….Aliens – with whom my communication skills left me totally lacking. I found out later that Jenny’s background left her equally bereft of such ability.

My sexual ‘road-to-Damascus’ moment happened during the summer of my nineteenth year. Jenny was to spend part of the summer with my mother and I in the North whilst she waited to take up a position at a local teaching college where she had been accepted.

I was on holiday before starting my university course in the September.

Having been sent to collect her from the railway station, I was duly waiting when her train pulled in. Despite not having seen her for several years I recognised her at once, although the girl I recognised had changed form, from a grub of a ten-year-old, to a butterfly of an eighteen year old. Her skinny little body had filled out into a slim, shapely form and her tousled fair hair now flowed down and bounced around her shoulders. Most of her shapely legs were visible below the plaid mini skirt she wore and her ample bosoms strained the sheer garment that fought valiantly to contain them.

We hugged and I took her suitcases, guiding her to the exit and to the car that my oldest brother had lent me (on pain of death if I scratched it!) for the two weeks he was on holiday.

******

How we travelled the three miles home without an accident escapes me as I watched her long legs cross and uncross beside me. My 23/7 erection had moved into 24/7 mode!

As was traditional, after tea I was required to ‘play’ with Jenny – the mind boggles as I recall this instruction from my mother! – And I suggested taking her to a pub for a drink.

As this was life before our drink-driving laws, I picked a typical rural pub – not one with imitation Tudor beams. If it had Tudor beams – which it did, then they were genuine! This one also had a log fire in an authentic inglenook fireplace – all the things that nostalgia is made of!

It was a Wednesday and the pub was nearly empty and we found seats either side the fire. I ordered a pint of bitter and Jenny had a Snowball. She sat opposite me, her long legs crossed and I struggled to remain comfortable.

Our small talk continued for what seemed ages before she asked me, “Do you have a girlfriend, John?”

“Eh, No!”

“Oh!” she said, before I answered, “And you?”

“They made it very difficult at boarding school.”

“Oh!,” was all I could manage, then added, “you’ll be able to play the field when you get to college, then,”

She smiled. “Maybe.”

“Oh, come on – you will be fighting them off.”

“Do you think so?” she became a little girl again.

I blurted out, “Jenny, you’re gorgeous.”

Her head bowed as she smiled her appreciation.

I had embarrassed myself and stuttered, “I mean, well I ….” And then shut up.

After minutes of silence she said, “I didn’t think you liked me.”

I was dumbstruck. She was right, I never really did like her, but that was the girl she was – what she was now, I fancied to bits, but was not articulate enough to express this and replied, ” We were kids Jen, boys and girls don’t get on when they are little, do they?”

“I suppose not, but what’s changed?”

The truth was that she had grown into a gorgeous sexy babe and my testicles had dropped, but I said, “people grow up,” and left it at that.

We chatted for a couple of hours about this and that before leaving the dying log fire and headed home. I have to say that by the end of the evening I had growth to like Jenny. She was warm and honest and alarmingly shy despite her flirtatious dress sense.

**********************

The next day, lacking anything better to do, Jenny joined me on one of my favourite walks. She was dressed in a summer frock and sensible shoes and we took a picnic in a haversack which I slung over my shoulder.

My home town lay in a river valley – most of which, in those days, consisted of fields and woods and a common walking route lay along the river. Various mini-valleys led off the main river valley and, at the base of these, small streams fed the main river. Their slopes were wooded and were imaginatively called First, Second and Third wood although the Third Wood was by far the largest and most picturesque, being carpeted with bluebells in late April and May.

In August it was still magical as Jenny and I meandered along one of its woodland paths. At one point we reach a south facing clearing and I said, “Fancy a bite to eat?”

“Sounds good to me,” she replied.

I unslung my rucksack and withdrew a tartan blanket which I used to cover a sunny space beneath the trees.

We lay on the blanket and I retrieved a bottle of cider, two plastic beakers and a Tupperware box of sandwiches. I left the fruit in the bag.

“Fancy a banana?” I asked when we had finished the sandwiches.

Our eyes met and she shook her head slowly at the obvious innuendo.

“I’ll have the apple, please?” was her chased reply.

I gave her the apple and took the banana myself before laying back to eat it.

There was no wind and the insects buzzed around. The sun was hazy but warmed us as we lay.

After ages of silence she finally said “We could be the only people on the planet, you know.”

“Would you like that, then,” I asked.

“What, the thought that you and I had the responsibility to re-populate the planet – big responsibility,” she laughed.

“Could be fun though!” I had spoken without thinking and tried to cover up my embarrassment.

She laughed again and turned towards me. I rolled onto my side and our faces came together. We looked at each other for a few seconds and then she leaned forward and kissed me – just a peck on the lips – before withdrawing.

We continued to gaze at each other before I leaned forward and kissed her – not a peck this time, but a long, deep kiss that lasted and lasted and resulted in an embraced where we both hugged each other tightly.

Needless to say, my penis was erect and protruded awkwardly as we cuddled and I was sure that Jenny felt it. It was probably a warning to her that, unless she was prepared to start re-populating the world in nine months time, she should call a halt to the present situation. She pulled away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on, John…it’s not that I wouldn’t like to…I mean ..it’s something that I have wanted to do…but…”

I finished her sentence. “But not with me.”

“No ..no..” she protested, “I would very much like you to be my first but we have to be safe.”

“Really!” I was elated at her response, then added sarcastically, if a little mockingly, “Whatever would the grown-ups think?”

She laughed. “I’m glad that you aren’t angry.”

“I’m not angry – a bit frustrated though, ” glancing down pointedly at my bulge, “but not angry.”

She gave me a peck on the cheek and then said coyly, “Is there is something I can do for that. You will have to help me though. I have never done anything like this before.”

I took her hand and placed it over my bulge and said.

“You will have to take it out.”

The combination of shyness and excitement was tremendous.

I lay back in the sun and let her undo my belt and unzip my jeans.

Her long fingers slid effortlessly into my shorts and she gave a little gasp as she held my rigid cock for the first time. This alone might have caused me to cum had I not cast my mind to others things.

“Take them off,” I whispered and she slid my under garments down and released my cock. I would have ejaculated there and then, but my self control persisted.

“Wow, that’s big,” she said, “What now?”

“Hold it, “I said and she complied.

“Now move your hand up and down.”

She stoked my cock up and down for some thirty seconds before I erupted and spurted my load high into that summer air. She gasped and gave a little shriek before letting go and then grabbing me again.

I said, “Keep going,” and thrust up and down into her, now stationary, hand.

She re-started pumping and continued until well after my reservoir was empty and her hand was coated with warm semen.

She didn’t know what to do next and just lay there holding my slackening cock as I lay replete. Eventually she wiped her sticky hand on the grass and then a handkerchief.