My first Time_(71)

My first real sex, that is with other than my right hand, was when I was seventeen. Though my sisters, cousin, and I had been masturbating together since before the previous Christmas, our activities hadn’t progressed beyond that point. Mid that summer was my true initiation with a woman.

I was working my usual job at the feed & grain store in town. It had been in business since before I was born, owned for the last twenty years of so by man and wife who lived outside of town on some acreage. The husband was killed by a drunk driver several years before my seventeenth year. His widow, Rose, decided to hold onto the store but sold their acreage after having an apartment constructed in the back loft area of the large, barn like structure which housed the store. Rose was in her late forties at the time, fairly large bodied but not obese, thick thru the waist with large hips and absolutely ponderous tits. Contrary to the styles at the time, she generally wore her hair down rather than “big.” Most of the time she was dressed in jeans and either a sweatshirt or western style shirt. The jeans were always tight, not painted on tight, but definitely hugging her form, holding her butt cheeks like two nice globes. I never saw her at work without what must have been an industrial strength, superduty bra on under her shirt. Her tits seemed to counterbalance that butt of hers. While Mom had large breasts, Rose’s when constrained and supported by her bra seemed to dwarf them by comparison.

One afternoon in late July, I’d put in my usual 7:00 AM to 4:00 PM work time humping sacks, bales, and bins around, in, and out and was sitting on the loading dock, more like a large porch on the side of the building, sweating and drinking a Coke. Rose had come out there and we were making small talk as I tried unsuccessfully to cool off in the shade. She asked me if I could help her get a new table up to her apartment before I headed home. I saw no problem with that of course so I stood up, tossed my now drained Coke can in the trash barrel and said, “Sure.” We went inside where she pointed out a small table by the sales counter.

“Mr. Harbaugh brought this in today – he built it for me in his woodshop.” She told me. “I’m just not comfortable carrying it up the stairs.”

“No problem.” I told her and checked the heft of it. It was a solidly built, white oak end table and was heavier than it appeared but not too heavy for a seventeen year old dumbshit like me to hoist up and carry. So I picked it up and Rose led the way to the stairs along the side of the cavernous interior of the building which provided access to her apartment up in the loft. Up the steps and into the apartment where, for the first time I’d ever seen the interior, I took note of how it was finished. It was done in a kind of rustic style with real wood paneling and burnished pine floors. It was larger than I realized and had large windows on the backside of the building that admitted a lot of light. A window unit type air-conditioner built into the rear wall had it comfortably cool compared to the July temps outside.

Rose pointed out where she wanted the table and after I placed it as directed she asked me if I wanted another Coke. I said “Sure, thanks.” And she headed into the kitchen, returning with a Coke for me and a Seven-Up for herself.

“Sit down, Hut. You don’t have to just stand there.” As she motioned toward her couch.

I said, “I’m pretty dirty, Rose. I don’t think you want me on your furniture.”

She said, “You’ve earned a sit down.” So I sat down and leaned back against the back of the couch to enjoy the Coke. Rose sat opposite me in a chair and began asking about my family, how they were doing, how about my sisters, etc., etc. We sat and chatted as we drank our pops. Before I finished mine, she asked me, “So, do you have a girlfriend yet, Hut?”

I just told her, “No, not really.” And it was true. The mutual masturbation sessions with my sisters and cousin had taken the edge off my teenaged lust so I had no real burning need to find a girlfriend.

She said, “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe the right one will come along this coming school year.”

I stood up and told her, “I better get going.” And started toward the door.

As I went out, Rose patted me on the shoulder saying, “Thanks for the help, Hut.”

“No problem.” I replied over my shoulder and headed down the steps to go home.

The next afternoon, around my quitting time, Rose approached me and asked, “Can you give me another hand up in my place?”

Without a thought, I said “Sure.” And she led the way to the stairs.

Up in the apartment, she closed the door behind me and told me “I’ve seen how you’ve been staring at my chest.”

I thought, “Uh oh, it’s been that obvious? I’m in trouble now. I’m gonna’ get my ass fired.”

She saw the look of consternation on my face, stepped closer, and said, “Oh, it’s OK, Hut. You’re not in trouble. I take it as a compliment that a young buck like you is staring at my old body. Here, sit down, I’ll get you a Coke.” As she put her hand on my shoulder and nudged me toward the couch. I sat down and she returned with a couple of Cokes and sat down next to me on the couch. “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” She asked.

I said “It’s your place. You can sit wherever you want, I guess.” She handed me a Coke and began drinking hers. “What did you need help with, Rose?” I asked.

“Nothing really.” She replied, “I just wanted to let you know that it’s OK that you look at me like that.”

As I felt her hand on my thigh down near my knee, all I could say is “Oh.” She was turned slightly toward me with one of those humongous tits shoved into my right upper arm. I had to switch my Coke to my left hand so I could raise it to drink without mauling that tit as I moved my arm. Thinking about that tit on my arm, I could feel my penis beginning to engorge in my jeans.

She moved her hand to my shoulder and said, “You get pretty hot and sweaty out there in this heat, don’t you?” Her tit was pressed tighter up against my arm now that she moved her hand up to my shoulders and her arm was out of the way.

I lamely said something like, “Uh, yeah.” And took another drag off my Coke.

She said, “You know, Rob used to like a long soak in the tub after getting so hot and sweaty.” Rob was her dearly departed husband, pancaked by the drunk in a big Oldsmobile a couple of years prior. “He even like some bubble bath in it. Does that sound like something you might like?”

“I usually take a cool shower to feel better after work.” I replied.

“Well, nobody says the bubble bath soak can’t be cooler water.” She said as she pulled me closer with her left arm wrapped around my shoulders and put her right hand on my leg.

Stupidly I asked, “Where’s this going, Rose?”

She replied, “Well, if you want the whole story, Rob used to like to soak and have me bathe him when we got home from the store. Would you like something like that?” I could feel my penis getting harder until it was pressing against and constrained by my jeans, preventing it from rising to its desired stance. Rose looked down at my lap and said, “I think you would like it, maybe a lot.” As she let her hand glide up my thigh to the bulge in the crotch of my jeans. “You can’t hide it.” She said. Nudging me off the couch with her arm on my shoulders, she said, “Come on. I’ll run you a bath.”

I stood with her and let her lead me down the short hallway to her bathroom. It was fairly large and had a very large bathtub with a shower curtain. It was the size tub we’d call a soaker tub today, but I’d never seen one like it at that time. I said, “Large bathtub.”

Rose just said, “Yeah.” As she turned on the water to fill the tub.