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Archive-name: First/vickie01.txt

Archive-author: Solitaire

Archive-title: Vickie - 1


         The events recounted take place in a small Southern city, too large

     for everyone to know what everyone else did, but small enough that each

     person's reputation was common knowledge.

         The time  is the  mid-1950's,  a golden  age  in America.    Before

     Vietnam and  after the  Second  World War,  having just  concluded  the

     "police action" in Korea.  An age of sexual innocence before the  PILL,

     but also before AIDS.  An  era when teenagers searched for identity  in

     an ever changing world.  The 60's were right around the corner and some

     freedoms and values were even then being challenged.  But, for the most

     part, we held the same values as our parents had a generation before.

         This, then  is the  story  of my  own  personal journey  to  sexual

     manhood.  My teacher was a thin, beautiful waif who had already learned

     the joys of her own  body and was willing  to share the knoweldge  with

     me, a 16 year old, gangly teenager with more hormones than sense,  more

     desires than fulfillment.

         This series is dedicated to Virginia T., the girl who first  taught

     me the joys of sex,  lust, and love.  In  our few short weeks  together

     she showed me pleasures and sensuality I had never experienced.

         Vickie, this is for you.  Even after all these years I remember  as

     clearly as if it was yesterday your sweet kisses, your soft touch,  and

     your exciting aroma as we explored  the depths of lust in the  backseat

     of a 1950 flathead Ford V8.


                               My First Experience

         I remember it as if it  were yesterday, even thought it took  place

     nearly a third of a  century ago.  It was  my 16th birthday, and I  had

     just purchased a 1950 Ford  with the money I earned  as a caddy at  the

     golf club.   One  of  my best  friends decided  that,  in honor  of  my

     birthday, he would introduce me to a girl "who did it", an acquaintance

     of his younger brother.  Unlike today's sexual freedom, the age  before

     "THE PILL" included two  types of girls: those  who were "nice"  girls,

     those who would pet and neck and turn your balls blue but who  wouldn't

     permit any touching  below the  waist; and  those girls  "who did  it",

     whether they actually fucked or not.  The mere act of getting a "stinky

     finger" was sufficient grounds to classify her as "one of them."  Since

     we usually  double-dated  in the  days  before  we could  get  our  own

     license, if your buddy got a quick  feel, he shared the smell with  all

     his buddies at the drive-in and the girl got her new reputation as "one

     who does."

         We drove to another section of town, an area of plain wooden houses

     with small yards and older cars.  Parking in front of a white clapboard

     house with green shutters, my friend went  to the door and talked to  a

     small woman who answered  the door.    Pretty soon  a small, thin  girl

     appeared on the stoop and my friend  talked with her for a few  minutes

     before walking back to  the car with her.   In those  days, cars had  a

     bench seat, so there was enough room for all three of us in the  front,

     so she sat between us  as we were introduced.   Her name was  (probably

     still is)  Vickie, short  for Virginia,  although she  really wasn't  a

     "Virgin Queen."  She was about 5 foot 2 inches tall and probably didn't

     weigh more than 90 pounds.  Her long dark hair hung in a pony tail with

     bangs that nearly covered her large,  dark eyes.  I remember her  eyes.

     They were soulful and  sad, yet they could  sparkle and laugh when  she

     was excited.   Her  breasts (which  I found  out later  were "A"  cups)

     barely poked the front of her white blouse and her arms were  painfully

     thin.  Her legs were hidden  under the calf-length skirt as she  pulled

     them onto the seat and sat on them.  As we sat there, I could smell the

     sweet scent of her  perfume mixed with strange,  lustful aromas that  I

     later discovered were from her pussy.

         I drove to  the drive-in so  we could celebrate  my birthday.   The

     Ford had a  column shift, and  as I drove,  I managed to  let my  elbow

     press against those exciting little bulges beneath her blouse,  causing

     an erection that painfully inched down  the leg of my jeans.   Everyone

     had a "suicide  knob" (a knob  screwed to the  steering wheel for  one-

     handed control that, if it  broke off in a  sharp curve, would cause  a

     "suicide"), so I could  let my arm  rest against her  chest as I  drove

     with one hand. I found a spot in  the back and, after backing in so  we

     could see everyone else, we all three celebrated with hamburgers and  a

     milk shake.

         In those days,  our big  excitement was  "cruising the  drive-ins".

     There were three  drive-ins and  we would  drive from  one to  another,

     circling the parking lot,  and then drive  on to the  next.  A  station

     wagon full of girls  from my high  school pulled into  the lot, and  my

     friend jumped out to go talk to them, leaving me with Vickie.  I  found

     out that she was in the eighth grade even though she was also 16  since

     she had been held back because  her father was transferred so often  in

     the military.  He had died a few  years ago, and Vickie and her  mother

     moved here because of her family and  because she could get a job as  a

     nurse's assistant.   After  about 10  minutes of  conversation,  Vickie

     turned to me and asked me if I wanted to kiss her.  After stammering an

     affirmative reply, she turned  on the seat so  she was facing the  back

     and put her arms around my neck, raising her face to be kissed.

         I had had some  experience in kissing since  that's really all  the

     "nice girls" would allow, so  I opened my lips  and met her open  mouth

     with my tongue,  slipping it in  her mouth as  she relaxed against  me.

     For the  next three  or four  minutes we  continued the  kiss, my  arms

     around her  slim body  and her  arms around  my neck.   Finally  Vickie

     pulled back,  resting in  my arms  as she  told me  that I  was a  good

     kisser.  She took  both her hands  and reached down  to grasp my  right

     wrist and pull my  hand to her face.   She kissed my  palm and told  me

     that I had strong  life lines (I later  found out that her  grandmother

     had been a gypsy fortune teller) and that my sex line was slightly  out

     of kilter.   She pulled my  hand down  to her chest,  pressing my  palm

     against the slight rise  of her left  breast encased in  a bra and  her

     blouse.  She pulled  my hand tighter  against her and  began to rub  it

     around in a circular motion while her lips pursed as if in a kiss.

         "Do you like that," she asked  as my cock, already raging from  her

     closeness in the  car, was  now uncomfortably constricted  by my  jocky

     shorts.  I couldn't say a word, so I simply nodded.  "Let's get out  of

     here and go to the park," she  said as she closed her eyes and  pressed

     my palm even tighter against her breast.

         "But Davis won't  have any  way to get  home." I  protested as  she

     turned in the seat so she could see him sitting in a car with 4 girls.

         "I don't think  he'll have  any trouble," she  said, "and  besides,

     since tonight is a school night, he  promised my mother that I'd be  in

     by ten, and it's just a little after nine now."

         As I started the car, she turned back around so she was facing  the

     dashboard, pulling my right arm around her shoulder so my fingers could

     just reach the top of her bra-encased breast.  In those days, with  the

     stick shifts  instead  of automatic  transmissions,  teenagers  quickly

     learned how to shift using the boy's foot on the clutch and the  girl's

     hands on the shift lever.   She got us in  first gear as I started  the

     car, hearing Davis' loud protestations (for  show, I'm sure) as I  sped

     out of  the  parking lot,  leaving  rubber trails  where  the  powerful

     flathead eight over-revved the tires.

         As I pulled onto the main road, I saw lights behind me as Davis and

     the girls were trying to follow us.  Vickie saw what was happening  and

     pulled my arm  from her shoulders  to give me  complete control of  the

     car, although she continued to clasp my  arm with her hands.  The  1950

     Ford was  a race  car  disguised as  a family  car.   Its  balance  and

     suspension were such that  it could take corners  at nearly full  speed

     without sliding.  It was only a few minutes work to completely lose the

     pursuit, so I slowed back to the  speed limit.  As we continued  toward

     the park, I could see Vickie's  eyes illuminated by the street  lights.

     Where they had  been sad  and soulful  before, now  they sparkled  with


         "Can you always drive that fast?" she questioned as I continued  my

     leisurely pace.

         "Of course!" I replied, almost indignant that she would question my


         "Then let's go.  I want to get to the park as fast as possible  and

     I want you to drive as fast as this car will go."

         My speedometer read  110 miles per  hour, but I  doubt that it  was

     that accurate.  Fortunately  none of the city  police were between  the

     drive-in and the park, so we arrived in record time, my tires squealing

     their protests as I took  the curved roads in  the park at full  speed,

     heading for the back of the lake.

         When I finally pulled off the road into the parking lot by the lake

     (the spot where we  all went for the  submarine races), her breath  was

     coming in pants just as if she had run all the way there.  She  twisted

     in the  seat  again and  plastered  her  mouth on  mine,  smearing  her

     lipstick and saliva  all around my  mouth as  she moaned my  name.   My

     hands were loosely on her waist, so she reached down and pulled them up

     to her breasts again.  This time  I pressed my hands into her chest  of

     my own accord.

         I felt  her teeth  capture my  tongue and  hold it  as she  mumbled

     something.   She  bit  harder  and  mumbled  again,  but  this  time  I

     understood enough to reach for her buttons which I quickly undid to her

     waist, sliding my hands inside to touch her bra-covered tits.  The skin

     above the  bra  was warm  and  soft, yielding  to  the pressure  of  my

     fingertips while the bra material, made of white cotton, was harsh  and

     rough against my palms.

         I continued to caress her breasts through the bra, and I thought  I

     could feel her nipples but the bra was too thick to be sure.  I slid my

     hands around to her back to find the hooks of the bra, but they weren't


         She pulled  back and  giggled,  "It hooks  in  the front,"  as  she

     reached down between her breasts and unhooked the bra, letting it  hang

     loosely over her breasts.  "Now you can touch me all over."

         As I slid my hands under her bra, I could feel her hot breath on my

     ear as her tongue slid wetly into its canal, wetly licking and  sucking

     as I caressed her breasts.   I could fit each  of her breasts into  the

     palm of a hand, and  my fingers could stroke the  skin around it.   Her

     breasts were very firm, even though  small, and they didn't yield  much

     as I  pressed.   Her nipples  were like  hard rosebuds  poking into  my

     hands, and they  moved like  reeds in the  wind as  my hands  continued

     their circular caresses.

         "Pull them gently," she  whispered into my ear  as I felt her  hand

     slide down my chest to my  groin, her hot fingers clasping my  erection

     through my  jeans.   I gently  pulled  on each  nipple with  thumb  and

     forefinger, but her breast was so firm that it didn't budge very  much.

     I squeezed  a little  more firmly  and began  to pull  it, causing  her

     breasts to distort  slightly as they  formed cones of  pleasure.   "Now

     twist them  while  you pull,"  she  instructed as  I  began to  use  my

     fingertips to twist her nipples  like I was tuning  a radio.  "Oh  God,

     that makes me so hot.  Put your mouth on one and kiss it," she said  as

     she raised  up on  her knees,  her head  bumping the  headliner as  she

     clasped my head to her chest.

         Up until that moment,  I had never been  any further than  touching

     bra encased breasts and,  only  once before, a firm, responsive  nipple

     for an  instant before  the girl,  horrified that  she might  lose  her

     reputation, pulled my hand  from under her sweater.   I could feel  the

     nipple poking at  my lips, slippery  from the residue  of saliva  which

     coated my chin. Opening my lips  only slightly, I felt the hard  nubbin

     poke inside and I covered my teeth  with my lips and grasped it  gently

     as I heard her breath  inhaled in a sharp gasp  as her hand grasped  my

     cock tightly through the thick denim.

         "Suck me!  Lick me!"  Her  words ran together in a cadence as  they

     became one long litany as my  teeth twisted her nipple back and  forth,

     pulling her nipple through my closed lips.  Finally she clasped my head

     tightly to her chest, nearly smothering me as she wailed and I  smelled

     her aroma penetrating the car.

         "Oh yes,  that was  good.   I  love having  my nipples  sucked  and

     licked," she said, pushing slightly back  so that her eyes were  locked

     on mine.   I  stuck out  my tongue  and licked  the erect  little  bud,

     feeling its  strength and  firmness as  it bent  before my  inquisitive


         As I continued my oral  ministrations, she reached down and  pulled

     her skirt from under her knees, making it a tent on the seat of my car.

     She pulled back and sat on her haunches, her knees spread slightly  for

     balance as she took my hand in both of hers, my regret that she  wasn't

     touching my prick anymore.  She used one hand to pull her skirt  nearly

     to her waist,  and I  could see  the white  glimmer of  panties in  the

     darkness beneath the skirt.  She moved  my hand to her knee and  leaned

     forward to kiss me sweetly on the lips as, with her motion, my hand was

     forced half-way up her  thigh.  I could  feel real heat emanating  from

     above as I slide my hand up her thigh until it came in contact with her

     panties, now sopping with her cunt juices.   I slid my finger back  and

     forth along the leg  band of her panties,  feeling the softness of  her

     skin, the crinklyness of her pubic hair, and the wetness of her pussy.

         As I slipped my finger under the leg opening, her hand reclasped my

     cock, rubbing it  somewhat ineffectively  through the heavy  cloth.   I

     felt something  wonderful.   Smooth and  slippery.   Wet and  hot.   It

     enclosed my finger as I  slid it back and  forth, feeling a real  pussy

     for the first time ever in my life.   As I slipped my whole hand  under

     the leg band and felt the wholeness of her pussy, the firm smooth  skin

     of her outer  lips and the  wonderful warmth and  wetness of her  inner

     lips, I felt her hand unzip my Levis, sliding inside toward my cock.

         I  had  to  raise  up  on  the  seat  since  my  position  was  too

     uncomfortable with her hand  stuffed into the  already tightness of  my

     pants.  My fingers worked back and forth within the confinements of her

     cotton panties as my middle finger crooked and slid up into her vagina,

     the smooth and  tender walls clutching  at my digit  as it slid  easily

     into her.  She gasped my name as I felt the increase in moisture as  my

     palm easily massaged her  inner lips as my  hand moved back and  forth,

     driving my finger in her pussy.  Her fingers finally found my cock  and

     she clasped  her fingers  around its  hardness, caressing  the  tubular

     muscle through the cotton of my shorts.

         "Use two fingers," she  moaned, her voice now  starting to rise  in

     pitch as she began to whine, begging  for release.  I inserted two  and

     then three fingers inside her, her pussy walls expanding to accommodate

     the increased volume.   I marveled at how  smooth and slippery she  was

     inside.  I could feel a hard ring at the end of her cunt as my  fingers

     poked into her cervix, but the rest of her pussy was soft and yielding,

     giving and  taking,  sucking and  clasping  as I  continued  my  manual

     stimulation until, with a  moan, she mashed her  mouth on mine and  her

     body began to spasm, her hips jerking back and forth like a jackhammer,

     forcing my fingers  deeper and deeper  into her sweet  moistness.   She

     continued to  moan my  name as  she  came, her  body wracked  with  the

     pleasure of release.

         Finally, after  minutes  that  seemed like  hours,  she  collapsed,

     trapping my hand in her  pussy as her legs gave  way and she sat on  my

     wrist.  "Oh Dam'n.  That was great.  I haven't cum like that in months.

     But what about you?  You  didn't cum yet.  Do  you want me to make  you

     cum?  You're going to have to push  those jeans down since I can't  get

     to you.   And next  time, don't  wear shorts,  just let  it hang  there

     waiting for me."

         I pushed my  jeans to my  knees, dragging my  shorts with them,  my

     prick now standing proudly  up my stomach as  she placed her cool  hand

     gently on its base  and massaged my  balls with the  heel of her  hand.

     She put one hand  on the top and  began to rub my  cock head while  her

     other hand massaged up and down the erect shaft, drawing moans from  my

     throat as  the sensations  overtook me  and I  erupted into  her  hand,

     coating her fingers with my  slippery white love juices and  increasing

     the  pleasure  of   the  masturbation  many-fold.     My  hips   jerked

     involuntarily as I alternately tried to get away and then get back  for

     more stimulation, the cum running down into my pubic hairs and dripping

     on my balls.  The  tickling sensation as her  palm slid easily over  my

     cock head was too much for me, and I had to grab her wrist to pull  her

     hand away.

         She giggled into my  ear and asked  me if I  liked that, her  other

     hand, coated  with the  overflow  from my  cock,  sliding up  and  down

     easily, giving me sensations that I only felt when I masturbated in the

     privacy of my bed.   Her hand slipped  up so she  grabbed my cock  head

     again, squeezing so it was milked in her slippery fingers, and I moaned

     again.  I had never  tried that, and it  felt wonderful!  My  erection,

     once starting  to flag,  now  reversed and  my  cock stood  proudly  at

     attention as her hands  continued their milking  action, now joined  by

     the other hand on my balls,  gently caressing them and massaging  them.

     I started frantically shoving my fingers  back up inside her warm,  wet

     cavern, drawing  a moan  of pleasure  as she  leaned forward  again  to

     plaster her mouth on mine.

         "Oh, you're getting hard again.  Would you like me to make you  cum

     again?  Would you like me to use my hands to rub your big, strong  cock

     so that it  spurts on  my fingers  again?   Does this  feel good,"  she

     questioned as  her other  hand,  slippery with  my previous  cum,  slid

     around the head of my prick like it was oiled, the tickling  sensations

     nearly driving me out of my mind.   My whole being was concentrated  in

     those seven inches of  muscle as I felt  her fingers sliding easily  up

     and down  my  shaft  as her  other  hand  rubbed the  head,  giving  me

     sensations that I had never felt before.

         Our hands seemed  to separate from  our bodies.   I could feel  the

     wetness of her pussy increasing  as I worked it  to a lather, my  three

     fingers siding up inside her until my knuckles were encased inside  her

     soft inner  lips.   I  rotated my  hand, trying  to  give her  as  much

     pleasure as I was  receiving as her hands,  slippery with the  previous

     orgasm, jerked up and down on my cock, both hands now concentrating  at

     the top  of  the shaft  and  caressing  the sensitive  head  until  the

     tickling brought me to the top  for the second time, my sperm  blasting

     out again to cover her knowledgeable fingers.

         At the same time, I felt my hand getting drenched with the flood of

     juices from her cunt as she threw her head back, her eyes closed as she

     gave  herself  over  to  the  pleasures  of  her  climax.    I  was  so

     inexperienced that I really thought that she had pissed on my hand.  It

     wasn't until I could smell it later, when I was alone, that I  realized

     that she had cum, letting her sweet sex juices flow as she reached  her

     zenith, her  cunt  walls clutching  at  my  fingers.   I  remember  the

     clasping feeling  of  her  vaginal muscles  rhythmically  squeezing  my

     fingers as her orgasm flowed through her body.

         Giggling, she leaned forward and  kissed me sweetly, saying,  "Boy,

     you were really ready.  You came a ton.  I haven't felt that much  that

     soon ever.  You must have been saving all that for me."

         After we dressed, I drove her home, nearly missing her curfew,  but

     being rewarded with another kiss, quick feel of her tits, and a promise

     of another date the next Saturday night.   But that story will have  to

     wait until the  next chapter.   Needless to say,  I smelled my  "stinky

     fingers" all the way home, but  I never told anyone (especially  Davis)

     what had happened.  In  fact, since I continued  to deny it, the  story

     got around that  I fucked her  on the  first date, and  she got  pissed

     until I convinced  her that I  hadn't told  anyone and that  I had,  in

     fact, denied anything at all.  After  she checked and found out that  I

     was telling the truth, she agreed to keep our Saturday date.



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