Just Being Neighborly


I was walking home from high school one lovely spring afternoon, preoccupied with graduation and going off to college in the fall, when I came upon a woman just ahead of me, struggling with a bag of groceries. “Excuse me,” she called out as I passed her. “Don’t you live in 527 Kenwood?” That was the number of the apartment house where I lived with my parents. Yes, I answered, I did.

“So do I,” she said. “I thought I’ve seen you around the building.” She told me she had hurt her shoulder playing tennis and it was painful carrying that bag of groceries. Would I help her? Sure, I replied as I took the bag and we walked down the street together, exchanging names – “I’m Miriam…;” “hi, I’m Kenny” – and making small talk.

Once inside her apartment [she lived in the west wing of the large building, my family in the east wing, which perhaps explained why I didn’t recognize her as a neighbor], I put her groceries on the kitchen table and headed for the front door.

“Oh, please, wait!” she said. “Could I ask another favor of you? Would you put the groceries away for me? My shoulder is really sore.” Once again, I said ‘sure’ and as I began doing that, she made me a root beer float and disappeared somewhere in her apartment.

When I finished putting away her groceries, and the soda, I walked to the front door and called out to her: “Thanks for the soda, Mrs. Kranz! I’m leaving now! Bye!”

“Oh, Kenny, wait, wait!” she called out. “I’m so sorry, but can I ask you for still one more little favor?”

“Ahhh, sure. But where are you?”

“Back here.”

“Back here” turned out to be her bedroom and there she was, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I can’t reach the zipper on the back of my dress with this sore shoulder,” she said. “Would you pull down the zipper for me, please?” I gulped – a grown woman was asking me to partly undress her. I hesitated but when she turned and looked me in the eye and repeated “please” with a little smile, I complied.

I unzipped her dress from the neck down to the waist, exposing her back and her bra. Once again, I started to leave but she said “no, wait a moment, please. Would you unhook my brassiere? I’m left-handed and that’s my sore shoulder. I can’t do anything with my right hand.” Because she was leaning forward, holding the front of her dress against her chest, I figured she was being truthful – and modest – and that it was okay to do what she had asked.

Of course, she could have pulled her bra down, rotated the back to the front and popped it open herself – and while she knew that, I didn’t. I was young and inexperienced.

Somehow I got the hooks and eyelets apart. Her bra was now open and I had an erection.

“See the strap marks?” she asked. I did. “Would you please scratch them gently to get the circulation back?” So I scratched her back, where the bra straps had pinched her skin, and she just sat there, her head down, as if in a trance.

Then I noticed she had let the top of her dress and the bra fall down across her lap. She was now bare above the waist and because I was sitting slightly behind her and to one side, I could see one small, firm tit. Better still, when I looked at the mirror on her dresser, across from the foot of her bed, I could see both of her bare tits.

“Are you staring at my breasts?” she suddenly pendik sınırsız escort asked and I realized with a shock that she was looking in the mirror at me looking in the mirror at her. I stammered and blushed. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly, placing a hand on my knee and sliding it halfway up my thigh. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s breasts before? Or touched them? Do you have a girl friend? Have you felt her breasts?”

I don’t have a steady girlfriend, I replied, and the most I’d ever gotten, up to that point, was a brief handful of a girl’s sweater-covered tit one night at the local movie house.

“Would you like to feel my breasts?” she asked, but before I could answer, she took one of my hands and placed it on her right tit. My erection began throbbing.

She took my left hand and brought it around behind her to cup her other tit [her supposedly sore shoulder was no impediment to this, although that didn’t occur to me then]. She squeezed my hands holding her tits and I got the picture right away; I began squeezing them and rubbing her nipples on my own. She responded by resting her right hand on my swollen cock.

I thought it was going to burst out of my jeans like a jack-in-the-box. She leaned her head against my shoulder and, speaking softly while lightly rubbing my hard-on, began questioning me about my sexual experiences. Had I ever touched a girl’s sex? Had a girl or a woman ever touched mine? Had I ever had intercourse?

The fact was that what I was doing with her, at that very moment, was 1,000 times more sex than I’d ever had before – that short-lived fondling of Mary Alice’s tit on a movie date a few months earlier. Well, that and a lot of masturbation to the girlie magazines then popular. I was afraid, however, if I admitted being a virgin, she’d stop what she was doing and tell me to leave. In fact, I was 19 and still a virgin.

But of course, I was exactly what she wanted – a young male whom she could introduce to the joys of sex. I’d yet to learn what she already knew: a young virgin, male or female, can be delightful, thrilling. [As I myself discovered years later when I had opportunities to introduce a few willing young women to the pleasures of sex].

Miriam didn’t wait for answers to the questions she had posed. She took one of my hands and, spreading her legs, steered it up under her dress and pressed it against her crotch. She was wearing panties but I was so inexperienced I couldn’t tell what I was touching or what I was supposed to do once I was touching whatever it was that was under her panties.

I knew women were different from men, that they had a “pussy,” “twat,” “hole,” “slit,” “gash” – but I hadn’t touched or even seen a real one before that moment. Remember: This was a long, long time ago and I’d been raised in a strictly religious environment.

Miriam’s hand was now the puppet-master of my fingers, pressing them against her sex. Everything underneath her panties was soft, warm and moist. As she manipulated my hand, she’d occasionally suck in her breath sharply.

“Would you like to have sex?” she asked after several minutes of fondling, but so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard what I thought I’d heard. “Would you like to fuck me?”

I looked into her eyes and saw that she wasn’t pendik yeni escort kidding. “Yeah! Oh, yeah!” I said, my heart beating wildly, “yeah!”

She stood up, letting her dress and bra fall to the floor. She pushed her panties down to her feet, kicked them to one side and stood less than a foot away from me, totally naked. I just stared, transfixed by the sight of her small, firm tits and that triangle of dark pubic hair between her legs.

There was also a distinctive, intoxicating scent in the air and even though I’d never smelled an aroused pussy before that moment, I somehow knew where the aroma was emanating from. I reached out a hand, palm up, and cupped her sex, surprised by the warmth and dampness I found between her legs.

“Take your clothes off,” she said matter-of-factly. As I was pulling my shirt over my head, she loosened my belt and unzipped my jeans. She pushed them down to the floor and then pulled my shorts down, exposing my rampant hard-on.

I was embarrassed, not knowing what she’d think of my equipment – too small? Too thin? Miriam gazed at my stiff cock for several seconds before grasping it. “How nice,” she said quietly, “how nice. How nice and stiff.”

She fell back down on the bed and motioned me to lie alongside her. “This is your first time, isn’t it?” she whispered, but she knew it was, had guessed it long before when she had first spotted me and decided to seduce me, and then seized the opportunity when our paths happened to cross that afternoon. Her sore shoulder was a fiction, invented on the spot to get me, first, into her apartment and then into her bed.

Mind you, I wasn’t complaining.

“Your first time to be inside a woman?” she breathed into my ear, her tongue tickling me. I could only nod yes, I was panting so hard. “Then let me show you how,” she continued, stroking my cock ever so lightly. “If you come quickly – that’s okay – I just want your first time to be good. So you’ll always remember it.”

She opened her legs wide and, with her fingers, led me on an exploration of her pussy. She didn’t say much as she traced her inner and outer labia with her fingers. She held those lips apart and told me the little pink nubbin tucked away in their folds was her clit.

“Touch it,” she said. “Gently.” I did and she shivered. She pushed my head down between her legs and my mouth onto her clit. “Kiss it…lick it with your tongue …yes, like that…ahhh…now suck it…gently.”

After a minute or so of licking and sucking her pussy, licking and sucking that elicited a lot of sighs and deep breaths from her, she told me to slide my finger inside her. I was amazed at how soft, warm and wet a vagina could be.

I fingered her enthusiastically but I could feel the volcano building in my cock. “Miriam,” I said, “I can’t hold out much longer. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” she replied as she nudged me up on top of her, located my cock and rubbed it up and down between her labia. “It’s okay if you come quickly,” she said. “Just don’t stop thrusting when you do. Keep it going, fast and hard, okay?”

With that, she slipped my cock into her. Today, so many years later, I can still recall that marvelous sensation of entering a woman for the very first time, her pussy so slippery and yet so tight, sancaktepe escort so yielding and yet so firm.

She was right about me coming quickly. I don’t think I gave her more than a dozen strokes before my cock exploded. She had been sort of passive during those few thrusts but once I came, she began bucking her pelvis against me as she sought her own orgasm. I was still rock hard and continued to drive myself into her vigorously, as she’d instructed me, and before long, her face was contorted, her eyes closed and she was gasping “oh god…yes…yes!…ohmigod!…oh!…yes! YES!”…and orgasmed.

We lay there, exhausted, for I don’t know how long. My mind was spinning – holy shit! I’ve just gotten laid! I’ve had my cock inside a pussy! I’m a man now! – and my heart was still thumping from the excitement of it all. After a while, I started to get up, to leave, but Miriam asked with a mischievous smile, “leaving? So soon? Didn’t you like it?”

It was great, I said.

“Well, then, stay a little longer,” she said. “You can have a second helping, you know.” She eased me back onto the bed, fondling my cock and my balls and guiding my hand back to her pussy, now viscous with commingled semen and vaginal juices.

She sucked me for a little while – not that she had to, to get me hard again; I’d stayed as hard as granite – until I began to squirm and she realized I was on the verge of coming again.

At that point, she climbed on top of me, slipped my cock back inside her and delighted me by sliding her pussy ever-so-slowly up and down my erection. I lasted longer than the first time, but still came fairly quickly; once again, my climax triggered her into hard, vigorous pumping and she had another intense orgasm of her own.

In the days and weeks immediately following my seduction, I was constantly in her apartment. She was as eager and hungry for sex as I was because, as it turned out, her husband was in the Army, overseas, and while she loved him, she said, she had such a strong drive that she had to seek relief from someone else. I was that “someone else” for almost a year.

Being a school teacher, Miriam was always home by mid- to late-afternoon and that’s when I’d be home from school also.

Her sexual tutoring was comprehensive and all-inclusive. She taught me how to fuck well and often – oral, anal and, of course, every intercourse position ever envisioned by eroticists. She had copies of the Kama Sutra and Henry Miller’s “Tropic of Cancer” and we usually would read passages together and then act out the scenes.

It ended when her husband was discharged and came home. I’d pass him on the street or in the building lobby and wonder if he knew his wife hadn’t been exactly an angel in his absence.

Or that I, the guy he probably never gave a second glance to, had had his cock in his wife’s pussy, mouth and ass probably a hundred times or more. I shot enough cum into Miriam during all those afternoons and occasional evenings to have filled a 5-gallon bucket to overflowing; how she avoided pregnancy in those Pre-Pill Days is something I never knew.

And then one day, she and her husband were gone. Moved. No forwarding address. Just gone.

Miriam, if you should happen to read this memoir, please know that I’ve always been deeply grateful for your seduction, your generous, patient and thorough instruction into the pleasures of sex. I’ve tried to be just as kind and thoughtful a partner to I don’t know how many women over the decades – and as gentle and thorough a seducer of young women [how right you were about the joys of the “first time”] as you had been with me. Thanks!

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