Connie’s Request

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


(Connie, Yvonne, Sarah, and Tipton were real people, but this story is not what really happened. Just what I wish had happened.)

Reputation. That was the name of the game for most of the women at the small university I was attending in 1970. You either had a bad one or a good one, and your whole future depended on which one you had.

The Sexual Revolution was all around us, but it was just filtering through the walls of our little institution. “Women” were mostly still called girls there. Their reason for being in college was to get a suitable husband, so that they might follow in the footsteps of their mothers, birthing cute little rich babies, attending church functions, and taking care of their husbands.

The best candidates for husband came from money and had their futures secured by family ties. They wanted wives with good reputations as little trophies for their mantles and as servants for any and every sexual whim. Wives who could attend corporate functions, entertain at home, and take charge of the house and kids. Wives who wouldn’t be talked about behind their backs for things that were done in college. Wives with great reputations, but also skilled in the bedroom.

Connie was a potential wife like that. A good girl from a good family in Dallas, in college to meet Mr. Rich, marry him, and have his children. She would tell you that up front, if she knew you well enough. And she had the physical goods to accomplish that goal. Her face was plain, but she had blond hair and a body honed by high school gymnastics. She was cheerful, sweet, and virginal.

And that was the problem. In another age, virginity would have been a prerequisite for capturing a suitable mate, but in the Sexual Revolution age, it had almost become a deal-breaker. Men wanted a wife who was not only a good hostess but also great in the sack. And they wanted to “try before buying”. That made things very tough, because getting that sexual experience almost always led to the kiss of death for husband hunters: the Bad Reputation.

Connie’s roommate Sarah had the Bad Reputation. She had come (as had Connie and most other girls at this church affiliated, expensive and exclusive little school) to find someone to take care of her. In her first year, she went off the rails a bit with her new freedom. She took her eyes off the prize. She let herself be seduced. It might have been okay, had her seducer been discrete, but he was not. News of her loose morals spread across campus, from dorm room to locker room, and her fate was sealed. She might find a husband and complete her assigned task, but life was going to be much harder than it would have been otherwise. Maybe she would have to switch colleges, move out of state, or settle for someone less eligible.

Connie and Sarah had an interesting relationship. They were very close friends, but they moved in different social circles. That fact was dictated by the type of reputation each possessed. Connie went to church functions, sporting events, organized socials, and formal fraternity dinners. Sarah had guys calling her up from phone numbers written on restroom walls. She went to bars far from campus that wouldn’t check her ID. She could be found at frat house beer busts.

Each of them envied the other, in some ways. Sarah saw in Connie the lost opportunity. She knew her life would have been totally different if she had just done something different that night in her freshman year. Connie heard Sarah’s tales of sex in the back seats of cars and knew that her own experience of life was so limited. Sarah seems so much more confident, while Connie was so much safer.

All three of us were sophomores, and I met Connie first. She and I were lab partners in Biology, and she was also the TA for my Economics professor. I was nowhere on Connie’s radar for husband material. Not that I was bad looking, but I was at college on scholarship, not on “daddy’s money”, and that was my disqualification. It took her one look to rule me out as a potential husband, but she was still sweet to me as a human being. I soon began to look forward to lab on Thursday afternoons. As we began to know each other better, she would call me to tell me my grades on Economics quizzes. She actually graded those tests, but I never needed her to “help” those grades, so giving me a call was just a friendly thing she did. She really was a sweet and friendly girl, but with a single-minded focus on her future.

Connie had an older sister, a senior, and if it hadn’t been for her, there probably wouldn’t be a story to tell you. Connie’s sister, Yvonne, was failing in her prime objective. Nearing graduation, Yvonne was without a husband or a realistic prospect of obtaining one. Apparently, this failure resonated throughout the family. Their father had sent the girls to this rather exclusive school, investing his money in them, and they were not giving him the return on that investment that he was expecting. Both girls were desperate to please Daddy, but they were at a loss as to how to accomplish that.

Yvonne was a lot like Connie. That is to say, she was blond and virginal. Kadıköy Escort She had a somewhat less beautiful figure and she was a bit heavy on the religious stuff. She hadn’t gotten on board with the changes happening in society, and most men found her to be stuffy and old fashioned. Connie loved her sister, but she decidedly did not want to share her un-marriageable fate. So, she brought her plan to me, her smart and capable friend in Biology.

“Paul, can we go have a coke after lab?” she asked that Thursday.

“Uh, a coke? Mmm, sure, I guess. I don’t have to go anywhere. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said slowly, looking down at the lab bench. “I just want somebody to talk to now. I’ve been thinking about, well, doing something. And I want your opinion. Maybe your help, too.”

“That’s cool. But if it’s about changing your hair style or something, my opinion will be pretty worthless,” I replied.

When we got to the local drug store/soda shop, she picked the far back booth and we sat on opposite sides of the table. I can still remember the place, which hadn’t changed since at least the early 50s. Everybody who’s seen an episode of Happy Days knows what I’m talking about, and those joints really did exist.

“I’m thinking about doing something,” Connie said, after we got our drinks and made a few jokes about our Biology prof. “Would you just listen to me, tell me what you think? But ya gotta promise not to ever tell anybody, okay?”

“Sounds like you might be going to kill somebody, and my advice would be not to do it. The fact that Laura wore the same dress as you to the party is not grounds to kill her. Let it pass,” I said, trying to be charming and deadpan.

“This is pretty serious to me, so would you just shut up and listen?”

“Sure. Sorry.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, and put on my attentive face.

“Things aren’t going so well with my love life,” she began. “By that I mean I don’t have any love life. I don’t have any experience that way at all. I’ve had good-night kisses and have brushed off a few passes, and that’s it. And, I don’t have a steady boyfriend.”

I wanted to say, “I’m shocked,” but I knew she was being serious.

“I hear other girls talking about having sex with their boyfriends, and I don’t have a clue what it’s all about. I took Biology, and I know all the mechanics and stuff. But I’ve never done the lab work, if you know what I mean…”

I thought to myself, “She’s pretty clever with that Biology metaphor. There’s a lot more here than an uptight blond coed.” Sensing she wanted me to respond at this point, I nodded, smiled and began to talk.

“So, you want to have some experience. Get some confidence about, well, about sexuality and stuff? But you don’t want it to get around. You don’t want to get the wrong reputation.” I was winging it. Saying stuff out loud to hear what it sounded like. Explaining it to myself as much as responding to what she was saying. And I was beginning to understand where she was headed.

“Exactly,” she replied.

“Since you don’t have a steady boyfriend, it’s difficult. Other girls have boyfriends. They may be already engaged. They can get that sexual experience and not worry about what people say. But without a steady, you can’t afford to risk… your future.”

“God, Paul. You are so smart! And I really trust you.”

I beamed a little at that. Connie is so perceptive to see how brilliant I am! And my mind went on a small vacation to the land of “Paul is Wonderful” while she continued to talk. I came back from my trip when I heard her say “…maybe you could show me some things…”

Where the hell did she get the idea that I was so much more experienced than she was? Oh, sure. I liked girls, and I wasn’t a virgin. Gosh, I must have been to bed with at least 2 girls. Yeah, exactly 2 girls, come to think of it. What the hell happened to “Paul is Wonderful” land? A small panic set in, while I continued to smile and listen.

“So, I thought maybe you would, you know, teach me some stuff. Sex stuff. It could be like a lab. What do you say, lab partner?”

When all else fails, talk. Stall for time.

“Connie, I’m really honored. You’re such a beautiful woman, and to think you would choose me to, uh, help you in this way. I mean, what can I say? I would be a fool…any man would be thrilled…no one has ever…” I was babbling, and she knew it.

“Say yes or no, Paul. If it’s too weird, just tell me.”

I was thinking she might be on the verge of backing out, and I didn’t want that to happen. This was a tough thing for her to propose. I may have been shocked and panicked, but I was also horny, and I wasn’t crazy.

“Con, this is such a surprise for me. That’s all. I’ll be glad to help. Yes.”

I tried to get in control again. Connie was the type of girl who had always obeyed her Daddy, and she seemed to respond to a strong male personality. I knew I had better put on my confident face and wipe out the wishy-washy college boy image she had just witnessed.

In a lower, conspiratorial voice, I looked Ataşehir Escort in her eyes and said, “Sweetheart, this is a serious step. We need to have some rules, and I will lead you through this process only if you agree to those rules. In turn, I promise you that you will get the confidence and experience you need, and that it will remain our secret.”

She brightened. “Oh, that’s so great! I’ll do whatever you tell me. I even got on the pill already. When can we start?”

I rubbed my chin. I didn’t want to sound too anxious, but my blood was pumping and my eyes were undressing that gymnast’s body of hers. “Tomorrow night. That’s Friday. Do you have a date?”

“No. As usual, no date. Everyone thinks I’m Miss Goody Two-shoes, so if somebody asks me out, it’s usually to church. I guess I am Goody Two-shoes. For now, anyway.”

“Alright, then. Come by my place on 8th Street at 8 tomorrow night.”

I gave her the address, which she wrote down in her lab notebook. I paid for our drinks, we walked outside, and she crossed the street back to campus while I headed the other way for home. It was a bit of an uncomfortable walk for me, with my boner rubbing hard against my jeans while I tried to cover it with my notebook. As soon as I entered my front door, I shed the jeans, underwear, and shirt, hopped into bed, and pounded my cock to a quick and explosive cum, with visions of a very naked Connie in my fevered brain.

When I came down, I realized I had some work to do. It was a job that required delicacy, wisdom, and planning. Maybe it was a once-in-a-lifetime job. I set to work. By the time I went to sleep that night, I had jacked off 2 more times, and I had a plan laid out for Friday night and beyond.

Just about 7:45 Friday evening, Connie knocked on my door. Noting the time, I took it as a good sign. She was early, so she must be anxious to get on with things. I was ready for her, with a few purchases in place and my tiny apartment cleaned and set up. I strolled to the door and let her in.

Connie had come prepared, too. A nice summery sky blue sleeveless dress with a full skirt and a bodice that hugged and accented her athletic torso. Her hair was bouncy and blond, cut fairly short, and freshly done up. She was wearing makeup that was far more pronounced than the hint of lipstick and eye shadow she normally wore to class. But it was classy, not slutty. She was really a class act.

I hugged her briefly and led her by the arm to the couch. We held hands and my left knee was touching her right one. I looked into Connie’s blue eyes.

“You look great! Delicious, as a matter of fact! How do you feel? Are you nervous?”

“Thanks, I feel really good. I am a little nervous, but I trust you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about tonight. Looking forward to it, really. And I’ve decided on a rule for tonight. I think it will allow you to completely relax and enjoy the evening. When you go home tonight, you’ll still be a virgin. We’re not going to have sex tonight. It’s just going to be a night about making you feel good.”

“Oh. Don’t you want to have sex with me?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” I said. Before I could stop myself, I glanced quickly at her scooped neckline. “And if you decide you want to go that far, or even farther, we can get together again later. I just want us to take it very slowly. Just take it at your pace. No pressure on either one of us. Let’s just have a great night of relaxing and enjoying.”

I could see that she was relieved, and that made me more confident about what I had planned. This girl needed to loosen up. Her springs were pretty tight from 20 years of church and being a super-good girl. I hoped I’d be the one to oil up those springs and watch her really bounce. A vision of Connie bouncing underneath me on the bed came to mind.

I leaned in and kissed Connie’s lips gently.

“Okay, I need to get some information from you. Don’t be inhibited. It’s just you and me here, and nobody else will ever know what you say. This is for your benefit, and you should think of me like a doctor,” I said.

“Yeah, Connie, let’s play doctor, ha ha,” said the little devil on my shoulder.

“You told me you didn’t have much sexual experience with boys. Have you ever seen a boy naked?”

“No. Well, just a neighbor boy when I was a kid.”

“So, you haven’t touched a boy? On his penis, I mean.” I had determined to start off using the clinical names for things, to keep up the ‘doctor’ facade.

“No, not directly. I’ve had guys get, like they say, horny and rub themselves on me. Once in high school, a guy got me down on the couch and humped me, but I pushed him off.”

“So, when you’ve kissed or touched a boy, have you ever felt sexually stimulated? Do you know what I mean by that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve felt myself get damp, you know, down there. Mostly when a guy has kissed me. I guess I’ve had sexual feelings, but I always tried to put them out of my mind. I used to do a lot of gymnastic stuff when I felt that way.”

I could see an irony Maltepe Escort here. To fight sexual urges, she did gymnastics, which made her body even more sexually desirable. Well, that was far better than smothering those urges with a half gallon of Rocky Road.

I asked her the biggie. “So, Connie. Have you ever masturbated? Have you ever experienced a sexual climax?”

She seemed kind of indignant at this point, and I was afraid it was directed at me. I thought she might lash out at me for being so personal. But her answer set me straight.

“I hear other girls talking about ‘the big O’ and stuff, but I really don’t know what they’re talking about. I know that men have climaxes, and that’s when they shoot stuff out of their, you know, penises. I don’t have a penis,” she said, blushing at the obviousness of her statement, “so I don’t understand how girls can climax. There’s nothing to shoot down there.”

“That idea, my dear, is what we need to correct. If you understand what a climax is, you’ll have huge advantages. First, you’ll have a frame of reference for what it is that men feel. You’ll know why they want women so much in the first place. You’ll be able to make yourself feel it, whether you’re with someone or by yourself. Someday, you’ll be able to share that feeling with a husband or boyfriend and it will make you closer to them, spiritually.” In fact, I wasn’t much into spirituality, but I knew that idea would motivate Connie to learn more, because it fit with her concept of romantic love.

“Man, that would be great. I’d like to understand what the other girls are talking about.” She was quiet for a couple of seconds. ” What’s it like, to have an orgasm?”

“There’s really nothing quite like it. Did you ever have to pee really bad, and when you sat on the toilet, you started to pee and felt a shiver go down your spine? It’s a bit like that, but much more intense and pleasurable. You don’t actually pee, of course, but it is an intense feeling in your genitals, totally out of your control. Like a sneeze, in a way. There’s also contractions down there and spontaneous movements of your arms, legs, back, and head. You might make vocal noises, like moaning or crying. It can get to you, all over your body, not just between your legs. It can be emotional, too.”


“Tonight, you’re going to have your first orgasm. Maybe more than one. Come with me.”

I continued holding her hand as I stood and led her into the bedroom. She sat on the bed while I lit a stick of incense (patchouli, as I remember), lit 3 candles, and pressed the start button on my prized possession, a reel-to-reel tape recorder. I had it loaded with 2 hours of music, beginning with an Andres Segovia solo classical guitar album. I turned to Connie, put my arms around her shoulders, and kissed her soft and deep.

“I’m going to the other room to get a couple of things. I’ll be gone about 5 minutes. I want you to take your clothes off and get in bed, under the sheet. Leave your bra and panties on.” I kissed her again and headed to the bathroom.

Turning on the hot water, I placed a plastic bottle of lotion in a bowl into the sink. As the lotion warmed, I checked myself in the mirror, making sure my face had the confident look I would need to bring this evening off successfully. Long before Connie had gotten to my apartment, I’d already jacked off. In those days, the prospect of sex with a girl was likely to have me over-excited, and it was best to ensure that I didn’t go off too quickly. Getting an erection was never a problem, so a preemptive wank was the best way to maintain control.

I wanted to peek back into my bedroom and watch her undress, but I knew I would see her soon enough. In a couple of minutes, I grabbed the bowl of water holding the warm lotion, a tube of K-Y, and a towel and walked back into the bedroom.

I set the K-Y and lotion on my bedside table and put the towel next to the pillow. “Turn over on your stomach, sweetheart.” After she was face down, I slipped out of my pants and shirt and turned the sheet down her back where it covered her from the butt down. I pulled the sheet off her feet and exposed her legs from the knees down. Then I sat at her side.

Carefully, I began massaging her right arm with the warm lotion. I worked from her shoulder down to her finger tips. As I worked her, Segovia played emotional, romantic, Moorish melodies and patchouli perfumed the air. I took my time, finishing her arms and then starting on her shoulders and back. I talked to her a bit, telling her how beautiful she was and how relaxed she was getting. She mostly just hummed back at me.

She was visibly relaxing. She inhaled a large breath and sighed occasionally. She didn’t flinch when I unhooked her bra and began long, firm strokes up and down her back with my slick fingers and palms. It may have been 30 minutes or more before I reached her legs. My cock had been mostly hard the whole time. While working on her shoulders and back, I had been straddling her ass, my cock barely rubbing on her sheet covered white undies. I sat at the end of the bed to do her legs, and I worked from toes to feet to calf, and then under the sheet up to mid-thigh. I think she might have fallen asleep about this time. She was fairly groggy, and very relaxed, when I gently rolled her onto her back about 45 minutes into the massage.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın