In The End Everything Burns Part 3 The Loss Of Innocence
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This is a work of fiction for entertainment only.
I looked all around me before looking back down at the basket with an object I desired. In my mind I remembered a quotation by Dave Barry, “You can only be young once but you can always be immature.” I don’t remember in what context he used this line but at this moment it fit me perfectly as thoughts of the past filled my head.
I looked over at her smiling face wanting her to move her hand from my thigh to my rock hard cock constrained in my jeans. The light in the theater was from the movie that neither of us had paid attention to. It flickered and the sounds of the actor’s voices were but a way to mask the heated passion we both felt. My hand was on her hose covered thigh about two inches under her skirt.
I could feel the heat of the arousal emanating from between her legs and her breathing was erratic as I continued sliding my hand up under her skirt. She did nothing to stop me as I felt for her stocking tops and the garters that held them. I had hoped she was wearing a traditional girdle of a garter belt so I would have unrestricted access to her pussy.
This was my first time touching her this intimately and my hard cock had begun thinking for me. We were several rows away from any other theater patrons and I wanted desperately to touch her pussy and make her cum. “Yes,” I had thought, “I want her to touch me and make me cum.” It was a fleeting thought but my passion was to go beyond a bit of petting and tonight seemed like it was the time.
I passed the point where I expected to feel the tops of her stockings and suddenly realized she was wearing pantyhose. I didn’t think about her wearing pantyhose. The last time I felt her up in a skirt I could feel the garters through her skirt. She had stopped me that time, “that couple can see you Larry,” she whispered as she brushed my hand away.
I looked into her eyes and could see clearly that she had no intention of stopping my hand. I moved up between her legs and felt the cuffs of what had to be a girdle as I passed from her thigh to her pussy. I could feel warm moist fabric but her pussy was so tightly encased in her garments giving me no indication of her anatomy beneath the layers of fabric.
“I’m sorry Larry,” she whispered, “My mom wouldn’t let me out of the house without the girdle. But it feels good, please don’t stop.”
So instead of getting a little stink finger to go with feeling her up I had to be satisfied with knowing I would probably make her cum. I hoped I would know it when it happened as I rubbed along a line from above her slit to far between her legs.
“Excuse me sir,” the old woman’s voice said as she brushed past me at the tag sale. Her voice had pulled me out of the thoughts of my first sexual contact with a long lost girlfriend. I realized my cock was as hard as it was that night when she rubbed me through my jeans and made me cum in my pants. My face reddened as she brushed behind me with her little old lady shopping cart pulled behind her.
I had replayed that moment in the movie theater time after time that spring and for years afterward. Our intimate moments came and went in a blinding flash without a single return to reminisce later in life. I always wondered what happened to the girl that had produced my first orgasm at the hand of another. Following graduation I went to the military and when I returned she seemed to have vanished.
I looked down again and admitted to myself that she was but a picture on a box. A full color image of a model printed on pasteboard and looking at me as if she knew exactly what was on my mind. “How could she know?” I asked myself aloud. My scratchy 71 year old voice echoed in the large gymnasium where the charity tag sale was being held. I looked around to see if anyone heard me. Fortunately the old lady had passed down the aisle searching for treasures and none of the shoppers were close enough to hear me.
The figure of the kneeling model clad in a turquoise satin blouse, pantyhose, and a Lycra short leg girdle was contrasted seductively by the vibrant pink background. “Cherie” was the style name of the cute little panty girdle, which could have in fact been the name of the model. I suppose some might think of it as a “shaper” in today’s world. After all the women of today have cast off their mother’s severe controlling garment known as the girdle.
Gone are the satin elastic panels in slender shapes to suggest a slimming profile. And gone are the garters dangling below the cuffs to hold stockings. This box contained what must have been the last hope of the foundation manufacturers to save their industry. Pantyhose were becoming the norm in the late 1960’s but were made so poorly that sagging and bagging became all too real a joke. Yes the baggy ankles and crotch panels half way down a woman’s thighs were realty and not just a marketing ploy.
So the marketing wizards decided to provide a way to keep a solid income stream for their employers. But it was also an attempt to save the industry. So with a bit of design and some slick advertising they were able to continue the production of spandex knitting machines by producing a lightweight garment. What seemed like a solution was just a stop gap for the end of the market for girdles.
But all of that is beside the point. I looked down at the girdled young woman who smiled up at me from the bin she was occupying with a wide variety of vintage packages of pantyhose. I looked again for prying eyes around me. None seemed to be giving a thought to a gray haired old man. “How could she know?” I thought deciding to keep my thoughts silent, “How could she know how pleased we both would be for me to remove her from the ash heap of someone’s lingerie drawer, and for a $1.00 no less.”
I picked up the box and noticed the yellowed edges of the paste board, “definitely old,” I thought, and looked at the woman’s face searching the deep recess of my memories of that night in 1967 when Trisha and I had become intimate in that theater. Looking at the model on the box I studied her hair style. “It is not exactly like hers,” I thought. Yet her facial structure looked exactly as I remembered her.
“It is impossible,” I thought as I studied the image. The models lips were exactly as I remembered them. We had kissed on our first date some months before the night in the theater. Those full lips met mine and I was lost in an emotion I could not describe. I had never kissed a girl and had no idea, other than by instinct, how it was done. She pulled away, “you have never kissed a girl have you?” She said.
“No,” I admitted wanting wipe her lipstick off my lips.
“I will teach you,” she said and after some brief instructions our lips met again. I never knew what made her seem like an expert, I knew I was the first boy she had dated. This time I felt minimally qualified and something happened that I did not expect. I felt her arm go around my neck and her pelvis pushed against me. My cock had hardened with the first kiss and I knew she could feel it against her. The kiss lasted longer than I expected and as she pulled away she smiled, “better that way wasn’t it?”
She did not wait for an answer as she pulled my face to hers and this time her lips were parted and I felt her tongue against my lips. Without thinking about it I parted my lips and her tongue slipped into my mouth. Suddenly it was like a dam busting and I felt passion and lust and my hands slipped around her and I pulled her firmly against my hard cock. She yielded to my embrace and I knew we had crossed an imaginary boundary between just being casual dating partners.
Our first kisses were in the dark shadows of the park across from the movie theater. I had been disappointed in the theater when she pushed my hand away but it seemed that now she was letting me know that touching was not out of the question. It seemed that when I was with her I was erect from the moment we met until we parted and I would jerk off with her in my mind.
I had not even considered that we’d be seen kissing in the park and now with an uncontrollable erection I wanted more than a kiss. But it was not to be. Trisha pulled away saying, “Will you call me?”
I nodded yes and she took my hand, “Walk me home?” She lived a few blocks from downtown so the cool spring night made for a refreshing walk as I held her hand in mine and felt a closeness to her that filled me with desire to be close to her. Certainly closer than walking hand in hand down a dark street.
“Can I help you with your purchase,” a female voice asked pulling me out of my memory.
I looked toward the voice and it was a young woman, probably in her late 20’s and she had a button on her sweater that said “STAFF”. Her smile was nothing short of infectious and I cast off the thought that I must know her because I had been in deep thought of a long lost girlfriend. But something about that smile stuck in my brain.
“I think I have found what I want,” I said holding the box down to my side hoping she was not creeped out by an old man preparing to buy a 1960’s girdle in a pretty pink box.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said as she looked at me, “I donated that item and all the packages of old pantyhose. All of them are new in the package.”
I wasn’t sure what to say realizing she now knew what I was holding. “Oh, I see,” I said.
“That was my Mom in the picture.” She said beaming with pride. “She was a lingerie model in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. She was so pretty and so skinny.” Then leaning close to me whispered, “she certainly didn’t need a girdle with a figure like that.”
I blushed a bit and moved the box back into view looking at the model and then at the young woman in front of me. I looked at the picture again, “Yes,” I said, “I see some of her in you.”
“Mom always said I looked more like my dad, I never knew him, I guess getting a model pregnant in the 1970’s was a good excuse for vanishing from the scent. I always wondered why she stopped modeling. I knew she told me that she made good money at it. I guess when she got pregnant with me they didn’t want her anymore.” She said as she took the box from me, “I love her hair style in this picture. Some of the other modeling jobs had her in wild and crazy hairstyles. But then she always said something like “it was a mad mad world back then.”
“Did she say a mod mod world?” I asked.
“Yes that is it.” She said with a sad look on her face.
“Are you helping your mother downsize?” I asked.
“Well actually Mom passed away last year and I am trying to clean out her place so I can sell it.” She said.
“I am sorry for your loss,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said, “My name is Beth if you need any help just let me know.”
As she walked away I was struck how much she reminded me of Trisha, “No it is not possible,” I thought, then did what every guy did when there was a question later in life. I did the math, there was no possible way that Trisha ended up pregnant by me, the young woman was way to young. “Besides, I pulled out in time,” I reminded myself.
I looked back in the basket of packaged pantyhose. Most of them had pictures of models legs in hose. I picked up one, then another and as I picked up another I saw a package of “Lady Martin” hose and knew immediately it was Trisha. Her face was thinner and the hairstyle was different. But without a doubt it was her and not more than a year or two older than we were in 1967 when we graduated.
There was a thank you written in blue ink from Peter, someone I didn’t know nor would I have expected to know. The package showed Trisha wearing a white blouse gapping open and almost revealing her flat tummy. Her pantyhose hugged her slim figure in a most seductive way. My mind was filled with images of that late spring of 1967. Not a video type image but more like faded old photographic images.
We went to a state park near town. It had a small lake in the middle of a wooded area and we walked hand in hand around the lake. Small insects buzzed in the air as birds trilled their songs in the trees above us. The water was smooth as glass with an occasional ripple as if a fish had surfaced to snatch a bug from the glassy surface.
I could detect the scent of her perfume, a scent that filled my head with the lust we had shared in darkened places but never taken beyond fingers on sensitive places. Pleasure at each other hands and our lips on each other’s lips had become common at the theater. It was a beautiful afternoon in the park that was empty of any other people.
It seemed that our passion had come to a point that there was no returning from the path we had been walking for months. Like the path around the lake we had a clear path from barely daring to hold hands to now being near the moment when passion and lust erased any hesitation.
It was a warm afternoon and while standing under the shade of a large oak tree I pulled her to me and kissed her full lips as her arms wrapped around my neck. I loved the feeling of her against my body and my cock responded as it always did. We lingered under the tree making small talk but avoiding the obvious need we both felt. It was broad daylight the only boundary left to cross. There was something about the dark that let us throw caution to the wind, but in the bright light of day we seemed that last little nudge over the line.
I picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the smooth water counting the number of times the rock skipped before sinking below the surface. I felt her hand on mine as she stood beside me. “Have you ever done it?” she asked with a whisper as if the birds cared what we said. “I mean have you ever gone all the way?”
I dared not look at her in that moment. I didn’t know if she was asking out of curiosity or out of desire and looking at her may have dashed my hopes that she wanted to take our sexual play beyond a hand between her legs. “No, I have never touched a girl other than you,” I said.
I felt her hand pull me along the trail and it seemed the subject had been closed with no further discussion. As we got to my dad’s car we had taken for a drive she placed her hand on the back door handle and looked at me with a smile that seemed to speak to me in the most personal sort of way. “Should we?” She asked and opened the door. There was no stopping the sexual momentum that had developed over the last couple months between us.
Trisha was wearing slacks and a knit top and as she slid into the backseat of the car she pushed her slacks down her long smooth legs. I unbuckled my belt and as I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut I slid them down past my knees. We kissed as I eased beside her. My bare legs touched her for the first time. Hers felt like silk against mine and my erection was more than obvious in my cotton briefs.
She was wearing snug fitting panties and my hand went from her knee to between her thighs as we kissed. I felt her legs part and my hand found her wanting pussy with nothing but thin fabric covering it. I needed to feel her pussy so badly yet I hesitated not knowing if she would accept my approach. I broke the kiss and looked at her.
Trisha had her eyes closed and slowly opened them as my finger probed along the leg opening of her panties. She pushed up against my invading finger tip and I felt moist matted hair under the thin silky fabric and our mutual lust brought us to the moment that now seem inevitable. I found her slit that was slick with her creamy arousal and like our first kiss had no idea what I was doing.
I knew all the names of her anatomy and found her clit hidden between her labia. I rubbed it gently not know for sure if that was the center of her pleasure, she moaned and then I felt her hand on my cock. She had found her way under the waistband and her soft hand caressed my cock. She explored every detail of my organ as her orgasm took hold of her and she gripped me tightly until it passed.
“I want to do it Larry,” Trisha said as she gained control of herself. She pulled her hand out of my briefs and lifted her butt to pull her panties down and kicked them and her slacks off onto the floor of the car. I clumsily worked my way between her legs and shoved my briefs down my legs and my cock pointed straight at the place I wanted to be.
There was no stopping me. Passion and lust seemed to have taken over my senses and I pulled her to the edge of the vinyl covered seat and my cock touched that wet hairy patch between her legs. My hands were trembling as I ran them up under her top cupping her bra covered breasts. I pressed the tip of my cock between her slippery lips and for the first time in my life felt the heat of a woman’s pussy as it swallowed my hard cock.
I didn’t last long, the excitement of my first time and the fear of getting her pregnant seemed to bring me to closure much faster than I imagined. I flipped her bra up exposing her breasts to my wanting hands as I pulled back and pushed in a little further. Trisha moaned and looked into my eyes. “I never knew it would feel so good,” she whispered, “much better than the handle of my hair brush.” She admitted as I pushed as far inside her as the awkward position would allow.
“We need to be careful you know?” she said more as a question than a declaration that pregnancy was a huge issue with no condom. And I felt her thrust her pelvis against me driving my in a bit further and then I felt that cramp that I knew signaled my release.
“Oh damn,” I said as I pulled out of her and my cock shot a rope of cum across her dark pubic hair. It seemed to float across the matted hair screaming at both of us that for another seconds hesitation I would have planted my seed deep inside her fertile pussy.
Trisha looked down as my cock continued to pump cum onto her hairy patch and tummy. When I finished I was weak from my first release produced by being inside a woman. I wanted to push my cock back inside of her but knew better. I looked up feeling guilty for the mess and the near miss, “I’m sorry,” I said, “I am sorry to cum so fast.”
I heard the rattle of something falling down in a nearby aisle from me and was brought back to reality. I was lost in thoughts of that spring day when I had my first sexual intercourse and the only one with Trisha. My draft notice arrived the next week and that ended our brief time as a couple.
I looked around, the young woman was a couple aisles over and I waved the package at her. She smiled and walked around the end of the long aisle and met me where I had been standing. “Your mother, was her name Trisha?” I asked showing her the package.
“Oh gosh,” I am so sorry I tried to remove all that were personalized. Peter was her agent and Mom always said she made him a lot of money. “I can find another package without the writing,” she offered.
“Uh, well, no, actually I’d like to have this one if you don’t mind.” I said. “I must confess, I knew your mother way back in the 1960’s before we graduated.”
“Oh gosh, that is so sweet,” she said. “Are you Larry?” she asked.
I am sure the look of disbelief showed on my face as I looked into her dark eyes that glimmered with a look that made me feel she was begging me to say yes. Why I had no idea.
“Yes, I am,” I said.
“Oh gosh Larry, this is unbelievable. I don’t know if I should tell you this but my Mom talked so much about you the last couple months before she passed. We spent so much time together during her chemo treatments and talked about everything in her life. I was her only c***d and I think she was afraid our mutual history would be lost when she knew she would not survive the cancer.”
“She told me you were the one she let get away in her life.” The young woman had put her hand on my arm as she spoke and it felt like the first time her mother had touched me.
“I didn’t know she felt that way,” I said, “I guess with the draft during Viet Nam I just marched off to the military and she was gone by the time I returned.”
“I know you are going to think I am nuts so don’t be afraid to say no. But after you check out will you come with me, to my Mom’s house? I have something that I know she would want you to have.” I saw a need in her expression that felt very personal yet I couldn’t imagine her wanting to have some old man to accompanying her anywhere and no idea what she would give me. My total time with her mother was not more than 6 months.
“I suppose I could,” I said.
I had no idea why Beth wanted me to come with her to her mother’s house. But once there I knew immediately that Beth wanted to share something so very personal with me. She showed me around the small house she had grown up in and had me set in large chair in the living room. She brought me a small book, her mother’s diary.
“I want you to have this,” Beth said as she laid it in my hands and took a seat on the edge of a couch facing me. It was a one of those little personal diaries so many young girls wrote in during that time and as I touched it I could almost feel her spirit flow into my hands.
“Are you sure?” I asked looking over at Beth.
“Yes, Mom mentions you in there, in very personal details.” She said with a smile, “It is not something I wanted to throw out yet the personal thoughts seem to center around something very special in her life. She smiled again and then I noticed she had parted her legs and I could see all the way up her skirt. Her dark pantyhose covered legs were covering her panty covered pussy in the sheer hose. My cock did its best to come to full hardness as I tried not to look between her legs.
“My mom told me she regretted not waiting for you to return. But she also told me that getting pregnant with me was only possible with the man she lived with for a time. He never stuck around once she got pregnant but she had no regrets of having me. She dedicated her life to raising me and that is what matters most to me.” She said as I tried not to look up her skirt.
I opened the tab that held the book closed and leafed through the pages. I recognized Trisha’s handwriting in the book and knew I would cherish this as much as the two pieces I purchased at the tag sale. My cock ached with arousal for a long lost love and for the scene before me. I felt ashamed that I would be aroused by Beth, but the old cliché “a hard cock has no conscious” came to mind.
The book lying on my lap seemed to be speaking to me and I let it fall open and looked down at Trisha’s handwriting and saw one sentence. “I think Larry would have been the greatest lover of my life if we would have had more time.” I looked up, shocked as I thought about her words written 50 years ago.
“When you get time to read the diary you will know what I am saying right now is true. Mom regretted you didn’t have more time and in one very personal part she said she seduced you, or at least she thought she did. I think I got that same skill from her.” She said as she parted her legs wider letting her skirt rise to mid thigh and smiled exactly the same as her mother had that day when she stood at the door of the car before we slid onto the backseat. Dave Barry was right, “You can only be young once but you can always be immature.” I closed the book and without hiding my erection stood and moved to the couch with Beth.
I looked all around me before looking back down at the basket with an object I desired. In my mind I remembered a quotation by Dave Barry, “You can only be young once but you can always be immature.” I don’t remember in what context he used this line but at this moment it fit me perfectly as thoughts of the past filled my head.
I looked over at her smiling face wanting her to move her hand from my thigh to my rock hard cock constrained in my jeans. The light in the theater was from the movie that neither of us had paid attention to. It flickered and the sounds of the actor’s voices were but a way to mask the heated passion we both felt. My hand was on her hose covered thigh about two inches under her skirt.
I could feel the heat of the arousal emanating from between her legs and her breathing was erratic as I continued sliding my hand up under her skirt. She did nothing to stop me as I felt for her stocking tops and the garters that held them. I had hoped she was wearing a traditional girdle of a garter belt so I would have unrestricted access to her pussy.
This was my first time touching her this intimately and my hard cock had begun thinking for me. We were several rows away from any other theater patrons and I wanted desperately to touch her pussy and make her cum. “Yes,” I had thought, “I want her to touch me and make me cum.” It was a fleeting thought but my passion was to go beyond a bit of petting and tonight seemed like it was the time.
I passed the point where I expected to feel the tops of her stockings and suddenly realized she was wearing pantyhose. I didn’t think about her wearing pantyhose. The last time I felt her up in a skirt I could feel the garters through her skirt. She had stopped me that time, “that couple can see you Larry,” she whispered as she brushed my hand away.
I looked into her eyes and could see clearly that she had no intention of stopping my hand. I moved up between her legs and felt the cuffs of what had to be a girdle as I passed from her thigh to her pussy. I could feel warm moist fabric but her pussy was so tightly encased in her garments giving me no indication of her anatomy beneath the layers of fabric.
“I’m sorry Larry,” she whispered, “My mom wouldn’t let me out of the house without the girdle. But it feels good, please don’t stop.”
So instead of getting a little stink finger to go with feeling her up I had to be satisfied with knowing I would probably make her cum. I hoped I would know it when it happened as I rubbed along a line from above her slit to far between her legs.
“Excuse me sir,” the old woman’s voice said as she brushed past me at the tag sale. Her voice had pulled me out of the thoughts of my first sexual contact with a long lost girlfriend. I realized my cock was as hard as it was that night when she rubbed me through my jeans and made me cum in my pants. My face reddened as she brushed behind me with her little old lady shopping cart pulled behind her.
I had replayed that moment in the movie theater time after time that spring and for years afterward. Our intimate moments came and went in a blinding flash without a single return to reminisce later in life. I always wondered what happened to the girl that had produced my first orgasm at the hand of another. Following graduation I went to the military and when I returned she seemed to have vanished.
I looked down again and admitted to myself that she was but a picture on a box. A full color image of a model printed on pasteboard and looking at me as if she knew exactly what was on my mind. “How could she know?” I asked myself aloud. My scratchy 71 year old voice echoed in the large gymnasium where the charity tag sale was being held. I looked around to see if anyone heard me. Fortunately the old lady had passed down the aisle searching for treasures and none of the shoppers were close enough to hear me.
The figure of the kneeling model clad in a turquoise satin blouse, pantyhose, and a Lycra short leg girdle was contrasted seductively by the vibrant pink background. “Cherie” was the style name of the cute little panty girdle, which could have in fact been the name of the model. I suppose some might think of it as a “shaper” in today’s world. After all the women of today have cast off their mother’s severe controlling garment known as the girdle.
Gone are the satin elastic panels in slender shapes to suggest a slimming profile. And gone are the garters dangling below the cuffs to hold stockings. This box contained what must have been the last hope of the foundation manufacturers to save their industry. Pantyhose were becoming the norm in the late 1960’s but were made so poorly that sagging and bagging became all too real a joke. Yes the baggy ankles and crotch panels half way down a woman’s thighs were realty and not just a marketing ploy.
So the marketing wizards decided to provide a way to keep a solid income stream for their employers. But it was also an attempt to save the industry. So with a bit of design and some slick advertising they were able to continue the production of spandex knitting machines by producing a lightweight garment. What seemed like a solution was just a stop gap for the end of the market for girdles.
But all of that is beside the point. I looked down at the girdled young woman who smiled up at me from the bin she was occupying with a wide variety of vintage packages of pantyhose. I looked again for prying eyes around me. None seemed to be giving a thought to a gray haired old man. “How could she know?” I thought deciding to keep my thoughts silent, “How could she know how pleased we both would be for me to remove her from the ash heap of someone’s lingerie drawer, and for a $1.00 no less.”
I picked up the box and noticed the yellowed edges of the paste board, “definitely old,” I thought, and looked at the woman’s face searching the deep recess of my memories of that night in 1967 when Trisha and I had become intimate in that theater. Looking at the model on the box I studied her hair style. “It is not exactly like hers,” I thought. Yet her facial structure looked exactly as I remembered her.
“It is impossible,” I thought as I studied the image. The models lips were exactly as I remembered them. We had kissed on our first date some months before the night in the theater. Those full lips met mine and I was lost in an emotion I could not describe. I had never kissed a girl and had no idea, other than by instinct, how it was done. She pulled away, “you have never kissed a girl have you?” She said.
“No,” I admitted wanting wipe her lipstick off my lips.
“I will teach you,” she said and after some brief instructions our lips met again. I never knew what made her seem like an expert, I knew I was the first boy she had dated. This time I felt minimally qualified and something happened that I did not expect. I felt her arm go around my neck and her pelvis pushed against me. My cock had hardened with the first kiss and I knew she could feel it against her. The kiss lasted longer than I expected and as she pulled away she smiled, “better that way wasn’t it?”
She did not wait for an answer as she pulled my face to hers and this time her lips were parted and I felt her tongue against my lips. Without thinking about it I parted my lips and her tongue slipped into my mouth. Suddenly it was like a dam busting and I felt passion and lust and my hands slipped around her and I pulled her firmly against my hard cock. She yielded to my embrace and I knew we had crossed an imaginary boundary between just being casual dating partners.
Our first kisses were in the dark shadows of the park across from the movie theater. I had been disappointed in the theater when she pushed my hand away but it seemed that now she was letting me know that touching was not out of the question. It seemed that when I was with her I was erect from the moment we met until we parted and I would jerk off with her in my mind.
I had not even considered that we’d be seen kissing in the park and now with an uncontrollable erection I wanted more than a kiss. But it was not to be. Trisha pulled away saying, “Will you call me?”
I nodded yes and she took my hand, “Walk me home?” She lived a few blocks from downtown so the cool spring night made for a refreshing walk as I held her hand in mine and felt a closeness to her that filled me with desire to be close to her. Certainly closer than walking hand in hand down a dark street.
“Can I help you with your purchase,” a female voice asked pulling me out of my memory.
I looked toward the voice and it was a young woman, probably in her late 20’s and she had a button on her sweater that said “STAFF”. Her smile was nothing short of infectious and I cast off the thought that I must know her because I had been in deep thought of a long lost girlfriend. But something about that smile stuck in my brain.
“I think I have found what I want,” I said holding the box down to my side hoping she was not creeped out by an old man preparing to buy a 1960’s girdle in a pretty pink box.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said as she looked at me, “I donated that item and all the packages of old pantyhose. All of them are new in the package.”
I wasn’t sure what to say realizing she now knew what I was holding. “Oh, I see,” I said.
“That was my Mom in the picture.” She said beaming with pride. “She was a lingerie model in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. She was so pretty and so skinny.” Then leaning close to me whispered, “she certainly didn’t need a girdle with a figure like that.”
I blushed a bit and moved the box back into view looking at the model and then at the young woman in front of me. I looked at the picture again, “Yes,” I said, “I see some of her in you.”
“Mom always said I looked more like my dad, I never knew him, I guess getting a model pregnant in the 1970’s was a good excuse for vanishing from the scent. I always wondered why she stopped modeling. I knew she told me that she made good money at it. I guess when she got pregnant with me they didn’t want her anymore.” She said as she took the box from me, “I love her hair style in this picture. Some of the other modeling jobs had her in wild and crazy hairstyles. But then she always said something like “it was a mad mad world back then.”
“Did she say a mod mod world?” I asked.
“Yes that is it.” She said with a sad look on her face.
“Are you helping your mother downsize?” I asked.
“Well actually Mom passed away last year and I am trying to clean out her place so I can sell it.” She said.
“I am sorry for your loss,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said, “My name is Beth if you need any help just let me know.”
As she walked away I was struck how much she reminded me of Trisha, “No it is not possible,” I thought, then did what every guy did when there was a question later in life. I did the math, there was no possible way that Trisha ended up pregnant by me, the young woman was way to young. “Besides, I pulled out in time,” I reminded myself.
I looked back in the basket of packaged pantyhose. Most of them had pictures of models legs in hose. I picked up one, then another and as I picked up another I saw a package of “Lady Martin” hose and knew immediately it was Trisha. Her face was thinner and the hairstyle was different. But without a doubt it was her and not more than a year or two older than we were in 1967 when we graduated.
There was a thank you written in blue ink from Peter, someone I didn’t know nor would I have expected to know. The package showed Trisha wearing a white blouse gapping open and almost revealing her flat tummy. Her pantyhose hugged her slim figure in a most seductive way. My mind was filled with images of that late spring of 1967. Not a video type image but more like faded old photographic images.
We went to a state park near town. It had a small lake in the middle of a wooded area and we walked hand in hand around the lake. Small insects buzzed in the air as birds trilled their songs in the trees above us. The water was smooth as glass with an occasional ripple as if a fish had surfaced to snatch a bug from the glassy surface.
I could detect the scent of her perfume, a scent that filled my head with the lust we had shared in darkened places but never taken beyond fingers on sensitive places. Pleasure at each other hands and our lips on each other’s lips had become common at the theater. It was a beautiful afternoon in the park that was empty of any other people.
It seemed that our passion had come to a point that there was no returning from the path we had been walking for months. Like the path around the lake we had a clear path from barely daring to hold hands to now being near the moment when passion and lust erased any hesitation.
It was a warm afternoon and while standing under the shade of a large oak tree I pulled her to me and kissed her full lips as her arms wrapped around my neck. I loved the feeling of her against my body and my cock responded as it always did. We lingered under the tree making small talk but avoiding the obvious need we both felt. It was broad daylight the only boundary left to cross. There was something about the dark that let us throw caution to the wind, but in the bright light of day we seemed that last little nudge over the line.
I picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the smooth water counting the number of times the rock skipped before sinking below the surface. I felt her hand on mine as she stood beside me. “Have you ever done it?” she asked with a whisper as if the birds cared what we said. “I mean have you ever gone all the way?”
I dared not look at her in that moment. I didn’t know if she was asking out of curiosity or out of desire and looking at her may have dashed my hopes that she wanted to take our sexual play beyond a hand between her legs. “No, I have never touched a girl other than you,” I said.
I felt her hand pull me along the trail and it seemed the subject had been closed with no further discussion. As we got to my dad’s car we had taken for a drive she placed her hand on the back door handle and looked at me with a smile that seemed to speak to me in the most personal sort of way. “Should we?” She asked and opened the door. There was no stopping the sexual momentum that had developed over the last couple months between us.
Trisha was wearing slacks and a knit top and as she slid into the backseat of the car she pushed her slacks down her long smooth legs. I unbuckled my belt and as I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut I slid them down past my knees. We kissed as I eased beside her. My bare legs touched her for the first time. Hers felt like silk against mine and my erection was more than obvious in my cotton briefs.
She was wearing snug fitting panties and my hand went from her knee to between her thighs as we kissed. I felt her legs part and my hand found her wanting pussy with nothing but thin fabric covering it. I needed to feel her pussy so badly yet I hesitated not knowing if she would accept my approach. I broke the kiss and looked at her.
Trisha had her eyes closed and slowly opened them as my finger probed along the leg opening of her panties. She pushed up against my invading finger tip and I felt moist matted hair under the thin silky fabric and our mutual lust brought us to the moment that now seem inevitable. I found her slit that was slick with her creamy arousal and like our first kiss had no idea what I was doing.
I knew all the names of her anatomy and found her clit hidden between her labia. I rubbed it gently not know for sure if that was the center of her pleasure, she moaned and then I felt her hand on my cock. She had found her way under the waistband and her soft hand caressed my cock. She explored every detail of my organ as her orgasm took hold of her and she gripped me tightly until it passed.
“I want to do it Larry,” Trisha said as she gained control of herself. She pulled her hand out of my briefs and lifted her butt to pull her panties down and kicked them and her slacks off onto the floor of the car. I clumsily worked my way between her legs and shoved my briefs down my legs and my cock pointed straight at the place I wanted to be.
There was no stopping me. Passion and lust seemed to have taken over my senses and I pulled her to the edge of the vinyl covered seat and my cock touched that wet hairy patch between her legs. My hands were trembling as I ran them up under her top cupping her bra covered breasts. I pressed the tip of my cock between her slippery lips and for the first time in my life felt the heat of a woman’s pussy as it swallowed my hard cock.
I didn’t last long, the excitement of my first time and the fear of getting her pregnant seemed to bring me to closure much faster than I imagined. I flipped her bra up exposing her breasts to my wanting hands as I pulled back and pushed in a little further. Trisha moaned and looked into my eyes. “I never knew it would feel so good,” she whispered, “much better than the handle of my hair brush.” She admitted as I pushed as far inside her as the awkward position would allow.
“We need to be careful you know?” she said more as a question than a declaration that pregnancy was a huge issue with no condom. And I felt her thrust her pelvis against me driving my in a bit further and then I felt that cramp that I knew signaled my release.
“Oh damn,” I said as I pulled out of her and my cock shot a rope of cum across her dark pubic hair. It seemed to float across the matted hair screaming at both of us that for another seconds hesitation I would have planted my seed deep inside her fertile pussy.
Trisha looked down as my cock continued to pump cum onto her hairy patch and tummy. When I finished I was weak from my first release produced by being inside a woman. I wanted to push my cock back inside of her but knew better. I looked up feeling guilty for the mess and the near miss, “I’m sorry,” I said, “I am sorry to cum so fast.”
I heard the rattle of something falling down in a nearby aisle from me and was brought back to reality. I was lost in thoughts of that spring day when I had my first sexual intercourse and the only one with Trisha. My draft notice arrived the next week and that ended our brief time as a couple.
I looked around, the young woman was a couple aisles over and I waved the package at her. She smiled and walked around the end of the long aisle and met me where I had been standing. “Your mother, was her name Trisha?” I asked showing her the package.
“Oh gosh,” I am so sorry I tried to remove all that were personalized. Peter was her agent and Mom always said she made him a lot of money. “I can find another package without the writing,” she offered.
“Uh, well, no, actually I’d like to have this one if you don’t mind.” I said. “I must confess, I knew your mother way back in the 1960’s before we graduated.”
“Oh gosh, that is so sweet,” she said. “Are you Larry?” she asked.
I am sure the look of disbelief showed on my face as I looked into her dark eyes that glimmered with a look that made me feel she was begging me to say yes. Why I had no idea.
“Yes, I am,” I said.
“Oh gosh Larry, this is unbelievable. I don’t know if I should tell you this but my Mom talked so much about you the last couple months before she passed. We spent so much time together during her chemo treatments and talked about everything in her life. I was her only c***d and I think she was afraid our mutual history would be lost when she knew she would not survive the cancer.”
“She told me you were the one she let get away in her life.” The young woman had put her hand on my arm as she spoke and it felt like the first time her mother had touched me.
“I didn’t know she felt that way,” I said, “I guess with the draft during Viet Nam I just marched off to the military and she was gone by the time I returned.”
“I know you are going to think I am nuts so don’t be afraid to say no. But after you check out will you come with me, to my Mom’s house? I have something that I know she would want you to have.” I saw a need in her expression that felt very personal yet I couldn’t imagine her wanting to have some old man to accompanying her anywhere and no idea what she would give me. My total time with her mother was not more than 6 months.
“I suppose I could,” I said.
I had no idea why Beth wanted me to come with her to her mother’s house. But once there I knew immediately that Beth wanted to share something so very personal with me. She showed me around the small house she had grown up in and had me set in large chair in the living room. She brought me a small book, her mother’s diary.
“I want you to have this,” Beth said as she laid it in my hands and took a seat on the edge of a couch facing me. It was a one of those little personal diaries so many young girls wrote in during that time and as I touched it I could almost feel her spirit flow into my hands.
“Are you sure?” I asked looking over at Beth.
“Yes, Mom mentions you in there, in very personal details.” She said with a smile, “It is not something I wanted to throw out yet the personal thoughts seem to center around something very special in her life. She smiled again and then I noticed she had parted her legs and I could see all the way up her skirt. Her dark pantyhose covered legs were covering her panty covered pussy in the sheer hose. My cock did its best to come to full hardness as I tried not to look between her legs.
“My mom told me she regretted not waiting for you to return. But she also told me that getting pregnant with me was only possible with the man she lived with for a time. He never stuck around once she got pregnant but she had no regrets of having me. She dedicated her life to raising me and that is what matters most to me.” She said as I tried not to look up her skirt.
I opened the tab that held the book closed and leafed through the pages. I recognized Trisha’s handwriting in the book and knew I would cherish this as much as the two pieces I purchased at the tag sale. My cock ached with arousal for a long lost love and for the scene before me. I felt ashamed that I would be aroused by Beth, but the old cliché “a hard cock has no conscious” came to mind.
The book lying on my lap seemed to be speaking to me and I let it fall open and looked down at Trisha’s handwriting and saw one sentence. “I think Larry would have been the greatest lover of my life if we would have had more time.” I looked up, shocked as I thought about her words written 50 years ago.
“When you get time to read the diary you will know what I am saying right now is true. Mom regretted you didn’t have more time and in one very personal part she said she seduced you, or at least she thought she did. I think I got that same skill from her.” She said as she parted her legs wider letting her skirt rise to mid thigh and smiled exactly the same as her mother had that day when she stood at the door of the car before we slid onto the backseat. Dave Barry was right, “You can only be young once but you can always be immature.” I closed the book and without hiding my erection stood and moved to the couch with Beth.
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