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I felt self-conscious that my cock had been cut and asked, "What makes you think that Ive been circumcised?" "Most guys are," she came back, "But what youve got honey..." she stopped talking and bent forward, fumbled with my fly and managed my zipper down, "is..." Her hand reached in and I felt her fingers wrap around me, and then pull me out, "a cock that John would be proud to be swinging...and Id love to be riding...ummmm," taking a better look at my cock. God, youre big." My eyes bugged out and I bucked up as her mouth covered the head of my cock, sucked it in a couple of inches, backed off and slid down until the head touched the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, then pulled all the way off, looked up at me and said, "Ive never had a cock that big in me. And I dont want to wait for years before I do." She stood up, took my hand and said, "Grab a candle Gary; I dont want all the lights on, but I want to be able to see what we are doing." Ever since I was old enough to masturbate I had thought of putting my erect penis into every attractive girl that I saw. I imagined that when a girl flirted with me she wanted me inside her. Like most young people of the time, and particularly boys I thought is was all about my cock, and girls pussies were just something to fulfill that need. But I also worshipped women, and after my mother had taken me aside( I think she had heard me masturbating) and told me that sex wasnt something to play with, and that girls could be hurt very badly if boys took advantage of them with no thought for their feelings. She asked me if I respected her. When I told her that I did she told me that all girls and women were passionate about being respected, and that is was my obligation as a member of the Warren family to always treat people, and particularly women, with respect. That was the extent of my sex education prior to the time that I began exploring. I went with a number of girls, and I was literally exploding when I realized how soft and feminine they were. I came in my pants the first time I necked with a girl. Then I came in my pants the first time I touched a breast. When my finger went into my first pussy—another load in my jockey shorts—of course. But I always stopped short of "going all the way," remembering the words of my mother about respect. I met Charie in my junior year of college at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. I was what they called a "hasher" or "houseboy," working in the kitchen and then serving tables at her sorority house. It was taboo for the girls to come into the kitchen and socialize with the help. But



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Charie ignored the taboo, the kind of "in your face" that she acted out throughout her life. She was a pert brunette with curly dark brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, the face of an angel and legs the went all the way up to her ass. When we started dating, another taboo, it was visits to the movies, the local park, which served as a lovers lane, and good-night kisses on the porch of the sorority house. We progressed slowly, first kissing on the second date, then necking at the park, my hands brushing the sides of her breasts. She welcomed the caress of my hand on her breast on our third date. And on our fourth, she sucked her chest in to allow my hand inside her bra. Her breasts were small, but so soft, and she became more passionate at the touch, our kiss turning into a marathon event where our noses served as snorkels, and our chins dripped with our saliva. It seemed a natural segue that was not going to be denied when I slid my hand up her thigh. She was wearing a dark blue pleated skirt, and knee socks, and was bare from just above her knees to her panties. When my hand reached the warm dampness of her panties she jerked my hand away and said "no," was quiet for awhile then looked up with her wide eyes and smiled, kissed me passionately, took my hand and put it between her legs. Vagina, pussy, twat, cunt: all the words that I could imagine flooded my mind as my fingers felt her moist and flaccid lips and then slid inside the most marvelous tunnel in Gods creation. We kissed and she wiggled and I probed, feeling her moist and spongy walls closing around my tingling finger. I didnt know about female orgasms at the time, had no idea what a clitoris was, or what I should do with it if I knew it was there. But she liked the feeling, and I of course, loaded my shorts again. As I drove home that night my left hand was on the wheel, and the index finger of my right hand slid under my nose as if I were smelling a fine Cuban cigar. The delicate smell, coupled with a faint hint of urine made me hard again. I sucked my finger into my mouth, fucking it, and lavishing in the reverie of our love-making. It was the night before we left to go home for Christmas vacation. She would be driving back to Virginia for holidays. She was the last one in the sorority house, planning on driving home in the morning. We exchanged gifts, and then made love, kissing, caressing; my finger sliding in her pussy again, then sliding under my nose when I kissed her, thinking she wasnt aware of what I was doing. The car radio was playing romantic music, its light casting a green shade on her bare legs above her knee socks. I had never