In May of 1988, I was a confused seventeen-year-old senior in high school. Confused primarily with my goals and desires for a future, and also dismayed by the breakdown of my love life. Mostly out of the desire to not be single, I had kept a girlfriend throughout high school, but there was little more than basic puppy love involved. My relationship with Sandy was no more than a thing of convenience, and our young sex life was dismal at best. I had had a few minor sexual encounters with other girls at parties, but they comprised little more than drunken groping and barely satisfying penetration. Yet these had been better than the long make-out sessions with Sandy that were doomed to hand jobs and mutual masturbation. She was intent on making me commit before she turned loose.
After several months of this, and also recognizing that we weren’t meant for each other, I decided it was time we both moved on. It was a gloriously mediocre break-up. A few tears, a good-bye kiss, a few beers with my friends, and whatever pain I had expected to feel was wiped away. I felt relieved and free, but also disappointed at the prospect of being alone. To make matters worse, I had dropped the bomb only two weeks before the senior prom. Where was I going to get a decent prom date in only two weeks? I began watching the halls and calling in advice from a few plutonic girlfriends.
“What about Betsy?” asked Christin?
I had never even considered Betsy before. She was a fifteen-year-old sophomore who had never captured my attention for more than a quick glance. She didn’t match my criteria for a serious date because she was very country, and country wasn’t cool for me. She dressed very plainly, talked very little, and when she did speak, her southern drawl was so pronounced that it didn’t sound natural. Betsy had been dating other guys since she was thirteen, and it was rumored that she was planning on getting engaged to a guy who graduated the year before and joined the Navy. I couldn’t be ultra choosy as time was running out, and it was only a prom after all. So I walked up and asked her to go.
Amazingly, she accepted on the spot and told me she would be wearing a red dress.
Two weeks later I stepped out of the front door in my rented tux and drove over to her place in my mother’s new Thunderbird. Although I didn’t listen to country music, my mother did, so I figured I would have something to Betsy’s liking in the cassette player. When I pulled up to her home, I was a bit nervous. Her father was a large and bombastic man who had a reputation for whipping ass in his younger days. He met me at the door and gave me a gruff handshake.
“C’mon down girl”, he shouted, “This boy here looks mighty nice!”
When she descended the stairs I was a little taken aback. I had never seen her dressed up before, and the dress fit her contours, showing that she was indeed well built. She smiled demurely as I gave her the corsage. We smiled happily for her parents’ camera, and asked to be excused.
Without provocation her father blurted out, “I bet this boy can make you forget about that Steve character.”
Betsy was clearly miffed at this and huffed as we went to the car. I had never thought about the fact that her parents didn’t want her seeing Steve anymore, and felt she was too young to be that serious. This was only a prom date after all.
After the initial formalities of picture taking and smiling for the parents at lead out, we took our place at a table. We made small talk, but I was thinking about the prom party after I took her home at 11:00 pm. Soon the DJ spun a slow song, and we walked out onto the floor for a dance.
As soon as we started to dance, I held her close, and she didn’t back away. Instead she laid her head on my shoulder and rocked gently to and fro. The song was very romantic, and I was caught up in the mood, so I turned my head in to see if I could warrant a kiss. She immediately returned the kiss with more passion than I had ever known. She probed my mouth with her tongue and began undulating her hips against my leg. I was sure we were garnering attention from others who knew we weren’t actually dating, but I didn’t care. I could feel my cock welling up, and I was afraid it was going to be noticeable.
Through two more slow songs, the intense petting kept up, and I could tell she was getting hot as well. Without delay I spoke up, “Do you want to get out of here and take a ride?”
Her eyes glistened as she said, “Let’s go!”
No one could have missed the fact that we were leaving the dance at only 8:30 pm. I winked at a couple of friends as we headed out to the car.
Living in a rural area, I lost no time in finding an abandoned dirt road that was secluded enough to hide us well. With the radio murmuring sweet, country, love songs, I began kissing and caressing her. I took her nimble little fingers and pulled them into my mouth one by one, and tongued her neck and shoulders lightly. She was wound up and moaning softly as I slowly ran my hand down her back, easing the zipper on her dress. I went back to kissing her deeply, and I felt her hands begin popping the stud buttons on my tuxedo shirt. As deftly as possible, I eased her seat back and pulled the dress down with her bra so that her breasts popped free from the top. They were the most gorgeous tits I had ever seen, even in magazines: pert and round and perfectly formed. Each was topped with a soft brown peak that hardened as my willing tongue caressed it. They were obviously very sensitive, as she began to coo with each circular motion of my tongue.
She pushed me back on the seat and tore my shirt away from my chest, tonguing my chest and nipples as she descended, then she crawled over the console and into my lap. I reached down between her legs and rubbed my hand against her panties, stroking her vulva as she arched her back. I slowly pulled her panties down and placed my right hand firmly against her slit. She was wetter than any girl I had ever encountered. My fingers roamed around her clitoris, and she shuddered and collapsed on my chest. As I inserted my middle finger into her slippery hole, she bucked against my hand, fucking herself with my finger. I extended my finger up until I could feel her G-spot, and pulled my thumb back so her clit would ride against it. It only took about 20 seconds before she gasped and came. Her orgasm was pretty intense for a simple finger fucking, so I anticipated quite a ride. My cock was swollen and pulsing in my pants. I thought it would burst.
She fell back onto my chest and then started sobbing. “I can’t do this! I just can’t! I love Steve, and we only just went out this one time!”
I was listening in disbelief. I was filled with both frustration and pity. How could she get so worked up, then turn off? I had to try and salvage the moment.
I began stroking her hair and calming her, hoping she would return the favor by kissing me and resuming our previous fun, but she only hugged me tighter and cried again.
“Please don’t be mad,” she murmured.
I took her home by 11:00 pm, and she kissed me long and hard in the driveway. I was aching from head to toe, and my balls were pulsing with pain. I drove back to the woods and beat off, but the pain was still there. Sitting there with my balls thudding in agony, I made a plan. I was going to get that pussy.
On Monday at school, Betsy was a bit shy when I met her in the hall. I walked back to her locker and said, “Look, I don’t know what we were thinking Saturday night, but I would like to make it up to you. How about we go to a movie this Friday?”
“I don’t know. I feel so bad about this weekend. I still love Steve you know,” she whispered, “But he’s not here anymore.”
As she started walking away, she turned back and said, “Yes, I’ll go. Pick me up at 6:00. I have to work for my dad until then.”
That Friday I pulled up to the little Dairy Queen her father ran and walked up to the counter. He greeted me with a smile and told me that Betsy had run home to get ready for our date. After he filled an order, he asked me to come around to the back door.
“Now I want to tell you something,” He said, “I don’t like that Steve character one little bit. I sure don’t like the idea that he has her thinking about getting married. Hell, she ain’t but fifteen-years old! I want you to show her a good time, and maybe she’ll get him off her mind.”
I agreed to show her a good time, even though my idea of a good time with his daughter probably wasn’t what he had in mind.
Betsy showed up in a few minutes and we left for the movies. It was a good 30-minute ride from our little town to the nearest theater, so we had plenty of time to talk on the way. I listened intently to her, held her hand, and bantered lightly.
“Why are you so nice to me,” she asked?
“Well. You’re a very pretty girl, and I like you, so why wouldn’t I be nice?”
“Can we just skip the movie and talk?”
I agreed to forgo the movie and found another quiet spot by the river. We were in my truck rather than my mother’s car, so I was able to go back even further down an old abandoned road where we wouldn’t be disturbed.
I was preparing to make my first move when Betsy started crying.
“What’s the matter,” I asked?
“I don’t think I really love Steve. The other night after we made out, I couldn’t think about him the same way. He never made me feel like that. I gave him my virginity, and we had sex a few times, but I never felt like that before. I know Momma and Daddy are right, and I am going to break up with him, but I feel so slutty here in the woods with you while I am supposed to be engaged to him.”
“I’ll tell you what then,” I said, “We’ll ride around and I’ll take you home. Whenever you feel like breaking up with him, give me a call.”
I carried her home that night, and she gave me a long kiss before she went inside. I drove home still thinking about those beautiful breasts and that tight little body. I wasn’t in love, but it was the most serious case of lust I had ever felt. I began making plans about what I was going to do to her if she ever gave me that call.
The call arrived the following Wednesday. We had never really talked on the phone, but she talked for more than an hour. I asked her out for Saturday night, and she got her parents’ to agree to a later curfew.
When we left her house Saturday afternoon, she climbed into the truck and snuggled right up beside me. I put my arm around her and decided to drive some back roads to get to town. My blood began to boil when she grabbed my hand and kissed the palm then ran her tongue upwards, sucking on my pinky when she reached it. She sucked on all my fingertips as I began searching for another dirt road I knew.
While we were jostling down the road, I was playing with her nipples with me free hand. They became rock hard, and she leaned closer into me rubbing her hair against my face. This girl was getting hotter by the minute, and my scrotum was already in pain with anticipation.
I knew a perfect spot down by the river, very isolated with a fire pit. I pulled in and immediately after I turned the truck off, she began kissing me deeply and powerfully. I returned those hard kisses, pressing even closer and stroking her face with my fingertips. I had never been kissed as passionately. Our tongues mingled together, probing each other, and I gently nipped on her bottom lip with my teeth as I started kissing down her neck.
My tongue and lips darted across her upper body as she reached back to unclasp her bra. With a steady upward motion, I pulled her shirt and bra off together, and gazed for the first time on her completely bare torso. The sun was still setting, and the last rays of orange light showed me those amazing breasts, unfettered, and completely taut. Each nipple was completely erect and protruding out by two inches or more. As I moved in to feast on them, I cupped each tit with my hands, rubbing the nipples with my thumbs. They were so firm and full, at least a 36 C. I sucked and played with them, running my tongue over the nipples, then circling the whole breast, gently nipping them with my teeth.
Betsy was clearly in ecstasy, pulling my head closer, moaning in a low growl, and kissing my forehead. I took this as a green light and began kissing down her soft little abdomen. She lay further back on the bench seat and pushed as far back as the passenger side door. I slowly began unbuttoning her jeans as I kissed further down. After the last button popped, she instinctively raised her hips so I could remove them. I started to pull her panties off simultaneously, but I decided to take it slower. I wanted her to be as anxious as I was. When I looked down at her panties I couldn’t help but grin. She knew what she was planning on doing tonight. These were not typical young girl panties, but sexy black silk numbers with red lace fringes. The crotch was already visibly damp, and she was already spreading her legs wider as I eased down between her legs.
I kissed the inside of her left thigh, then slowly made it across to her right one. Right in the middle, I gave her sopping little pussy a deep kiss through her panties. Her pubic hair was a soft mousy brown, well trimmed and glowing with juices. I could smell the glorious scent of her, and it made me even hungrier. After another round of teasing, I began kissing her cunt in earnest, gently probing my tongue around her labia while holding the panties to the side. She moaned louder and pulled my head closer. I had never really eaten pussy before, but I had fantasized about it. I had spent months planning and anticipating, and now it was paying off. She was enraptured, and her cries of pleasure were making me even hotter. I licked, probed, kissed and pleasured her while time seemed to stand still. Her thick juices covered my face, and I lapped them hungrily, trying to taste every ounce of her. As I licked and nibbled on her clit, she convulsed and shook, cumming right there and pulling me in so tight that I felt I would suffocate.
After that first orgasm, she seemed possessed and hungry. She sat up and pushed me back down into the seat, ripping my jeans and underwear down to my knees. My cock was bulging and erect with precum covering the head. She grabbed it and began kneading it gently in her soft hands. “Now it’s my turn,” she cooed.
She raised her butt in the air and plunged her mouth down on my cock as far as she could go. She quivered with a small gag, but recovered quickly and started sucking my dick hard. Too hard. I winced and bucked with pain, and she adjusted her mouth and suction quickly. In just a few seconds, she was working my dick like an oilrig, bobbing her head up and down steadily. I could feel my cum welling up, and she felt my convulsions, she stopped sucking and started beating my meat, squeezing the tip when she reached the end of the shaft. It felt like gallons of jism were exiting the end, and I was cumming harder than I had ever experienced. She continued pumping and seemed completely oblivious to the jets of pearly liquid covering her gorgeous breasts and stomach. Her eyes were closed and she was muttering, “That’s it baby. You let all that bad stuff out.”
When I finally finished climaxing, she knelt down and kissed the end of my cock, teasing it with her tongue, and licking the last drops of semen. “I’ve never done that before, “ she said, “but I really liked it, and you’ve made a mess.”
I reached behind the seat and brought out a t-shirt I kept as an extra. I wiped her down and started kissing her again. My young cock never even subsided, and I was eager to get inside that delicious cunt. I laid her back on the seat and removed her sopping panties. She raised her legs in the air and wrapped them around me, pulling me closer, and I felt the entrance to her slit rub against the head of my dick. I resisted the urge to plunge right in, and rubbed it up and down her twat. She winced when it made contact with her clit, and tried to pull me in with her legs, but I resisted more. I was torturing her a little for the pain she caused me the on prom night, and she was getting hotter and wetter. She pulled me down and kissed me deep again. The scent of her own juices that were still on my face aroused her even more, and she bucked against me. I held her down and inserted only the tip into her steaming hole. Moving it around in a slow circle, I would pull it out again and tap her clit. Each time she would quiver and whimper. I decided to see how long I could keep up the game.
For what seemed like a small eternity, I put only the head of my cock in her hole, rubbed it lightly around, then teased her clit. She got hotter each time and eventually she was rigid with excitement. She looked deep into my eyes and pleaded, “Please fuck me! Please don’t tease me anymore! I am on fire! Please fuck me!”
I couldn’t hold on any longer, and I plunged my cock into her tight, wet hole all the way to end. She screamed in pain and ecstasy and shook all over, clenching me tightly. As I slowly started moving inside her, I was overwhelmed at heat and smoothness and tightness. This was the most wonderful pussy I had ever experienced, and she was giving it to me wildly. With every stroke, she bucked hard against me, and let out a little whimper. She was enjoying this ride, and I was getting more excited by her sounds. As her first little climax hit her, she pounded up with her pelvis and dug her nails into my back. The pain of her nails mixed with the glorious feeling of her pussy moved me close to the edge, and I had to restrain my thought to keep from cumming. “Fuck me! Fuck me harder!” she pleaded.
I began to brutally slam into her; ramming my cock in as far as it would go. Her head bounced off the door of the truck and she continued to buck in wild abandon. She came hard, shaking all over and screaming. Tears streamed down her beautiful face as she climaxed wildly. I was so caught up in watching her, that my own climax waned, and I continued to pump her. I felt like a king, watching this beautiful girl writhing under me, squealing and moaning, completely caught up in her electric orgasms, and I continued to pump away. She came again, harder than the first time and it sparked my own orgasm. I rocked relentlessly at her pussy, driving as I felt the wave of cum getting ready to emerge from my cock. We had become crazed, and she squealed as I filled her twat with my semen, begging for more.
We both collapsed into a heap of shuddering flesh. My cock was still buried deep inside her, and I could feel her walls twitching around me. My dick was still pulsing and she was breathing rapidly in my ear. We were covered in sweat, and the salt was burning the deep scratches in my back. We lay there for several minutes gently kissing and recovering from our abandon. I looked at her softly and muttered, “My God! You were magnificent.”
“I want to feel like that all the time,” she whispered, and kissed me again.
I stepped outside the truck and stretched, while she rearranged her clothes. Although June was nearing, there was a chill in the air, so I decided to make a fire. We sat together by the fire, wrapped up in a blanket and stroking each other softly. Before long we were making love softly beside the fire for a second time, this time slowly and deliberately. We continued enjoying our bodies for two or three more hours. Our youth, coupled with our lust provided pleasure over and over again. Finally, we both became so sore and raw, that we could no longer stand the penetration, and called it an evening.
As I drove her home, she lay against me, and for a while, I imagined that we could be in love. Her eyes looked deep into mine, and I think she felt the same thing. I kissed her for several minutes in her driveway, before dropping her off, and I decided to drive around and consider the possibilities.
It never worked out. We were too different in many ways. I was leaving for college, and she was just starting her junior year. I never wanted to be tied down at home, and she desired commitment. We had sex a few more times that summer, but nothing compared to that night by the river. She was always good, and we always made each other feel complete sexually, but we both knew there was no future for our relationship, other than good sex.
Life plays crazy games with us. I eventually grew up emotionally and married a wonderful woman. I have never cheated on her, but on certain nights, I imagine Betsy’s soft, taut body undulating beneath me. How was it possible for my sexual soul-mate to not be my spiritual love? It never seemed fair. I had sex with dozens of girls in college, and they ranged from great to mediocre, but no one ever came close to making me feel like Betsy. Alas, that bird flew long ago. She is married with children, and so am I. I have only seen her twice since high school, and there was no spark left in her eyes, but I still have my memories of that glorious summer.