In July 1962, when Marilyn and I were 18 years old and newly graduated from high school, Rudi Gernreich designed the first women’s topless bathing suit. Our home town, in California’s Central Valley, was shocked by the idea, especially when Page One of The San Francisco Chronicle included photos of women wearing them on the beach. Carefully placed driftwood concealed the models’ breasts, but young men, such as I, fantasized about what we would be seeing if the view hadn’t been spoiled.
The coastal metropolises, San Francisco and Los Angeles, were allegedly home to a high level of licentiousness, but our small city was nothing like that. Almost all the women, and a big majority of the men, were virgins until their wedding nights. Those who were not virtually always married the persons who had been their only sexual partners. Marilyn and I were both virgins, and I don’t mean what are sometimes called “technical virgins”. On occasion, my hand had strayed to her breast, to be pushed aside, firmly but without rancor. That was the extant of our sexual adventures.
We had talked, seriously and lovingly, of marriage, and her parents and mine favored the idea, but they all kept telling us to wait and be sure before taking such an important step. It went without saying that we should also forego sex until we were married. We agreed with their counsel. She and I would be attending the same state university, and we would be dating regularly, so there was no urgency. It was the same university as her father and mine had attended, but Marilyn would be the first women in either family to go on to any kind of higher education.
The weather was hot that Friday evening, as it always is in the Central Valley in July, and I intended to join Marilyn in the swimming pool in her family’s back yard. Her parents were away for a weekend visit, but had no qualms about leaving their daughter alone. They knew her to be very responsible, and she would be on her own for weeks at a time once she started college. Even about that, they didn’t worry, except for normal parental concerns. They knew I was going to be there that evening, but they trusted me as their own son. My parents held the same opinion of Marilyn, so nobody was concerned about our being together by ourselves.
I drove over, wearing swimming trunks under my jeans. She opened the door and we kissed, chastely but warmly. When the kiss ended, Marilyn leaned back in my arms and smiled at me.
“Go on out in the back yard,” she told me. “I’ve got a new bathing suit, and I want to know what you think of it. Or of me in it.”
“Okay.” I knew I would adore her in any bathing suit, new or old, because she was so beautiful. Sometimes I wondered what someone like her saw in someone like me. I looked okay, tall, athletic, with regular features and short, brown hair. I not only looked athletic, I had been on the varsity in two sports in my senior year, although not a star in either of them. Marilyn, however, was a true beauty, with her long, light brown hair, blue eyes and curvy figure, as well as being intelligent, and the sweetest girl I had ever met.
After stripping off my outer clothing, I dove into the pool, and swam the length of it and back again. While I stood by the edge of the shallow end, I saw Marilyn come through the back door, and I climbed out to join her in the patio area. Her legs were bare, but she was wearing a short robe that covered her body, which seemed strange, because it wasn’t needed in the warm air. She stood waiting for me, smiling prettily and holding the robe closed, while I approached.
“What do you think of my new bathing suit?” she asked. Before I could tell her I hadn’t seen it yet, she opened the robe. I was struck dumb. Fortunately, I wasn’t struck blind.
Marilyn was wearing a topless bathing suit, like those in the Chronicle, except there was no driftwood to block my view of her lovely breasts. She looked far better to me, than any of those models had. I had seen her in bathing suits and in skirts and sweaters, and I knew she had a terrific figure, but I had never realized until then just how terrific it really was. As I gawked, she smiled even more prettily, removed the robe, and hung it over the back of a chair.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” she teased me by asking.
I found my voice then, and with two steps, I was in front of her. “You’re even more beautiful than ever,” I said, as I slipped my arms around her, and bent to kiss her.
I had kissed Marilyn many times, and sometimes I tried to sneak my tongue into her mouth in a French kiss. She always resisted, sometimes even turning her face, but that evening, her mouth opened wide, and my tongue glided in. I was exploring unknown territory, but the natives were friendly; I felt the tip of her tongue licking the underside of mine. We kissed repeatedly like that, for a long time, and I could feel our relationship moving to a new level.
Until then, I had never fondled Marilyn’s breasts, but I decided to push my luck. Her succulent bare bosom was pressed against my equally bare chest, but I wanted more. Keeping my left arm around her waist, I slipped my right hand between our bodies and raised it until I gently held her left breast. Although she had always pushed my hands away when they tried to make a similar contact, even through her clothing, on that evening, Marilyn took hold of my other hand and placed it on her right breast. Her hands held my hips, and I saw her lean back and smile in a way I had never seen before.
I saw other things for the first time too – my hands on Marilyn’s luscious breasts and her adorable nipples. They were dark pink, contrasting beautifully with the creamy white of her skin. Gently, I kneaded the vibrant flesh, and reached with my thumbs to touch her nipples. I expected them to be soft, like the rest of her breasts, and I was surprised that they felt hard.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes!” I blurted out. A second later, I added “I love them.”
“Prove you love them.”
I hesitated no more than a second. When you love something, you kiss it, so I bent down and kissed Marilyn’s nipples.
“Just a minute.” She pushed me away, but only briefly.
The suit wasn’t really topless. It was trunks with straps crossing between her breasts and going over her shoulders and down her back. Marilyn brushed the straps away from her shoulders, and pushed them all the way down and away. After making her breasts even more accessible, she stepped close to me, and I resumed showing my love for them.
“Lick me there.” Marilyn’s voice sounded different, huskier, than I had ever heard it.
I changed from kissing to licking her nipples, and got another surprise. They felt even harder to my tongue than they had to my thumbs or lips, and the hardness seemed to consist of many tiny ridges. As my tongue caressed her hard nubbins and the pebbly areolas surrounding them, I could hear her breathing become shorter and faster, and I knew mine sounded the same.
An erection had been creating a bulge in my swimming trunks since the moment Marilyn opened her robe. When her hand went to the front of the trunks and squeezed that bulge, my cock got even harder.
“I don’t really feel like swimming tonight, Georgie. Let’s go to my room.”
Knowing I would follow, Marilyn entered the house, and led me to her bedroom. I had been there before, but only to study, and always with the door open, but this time she closed it and turned on the light. Marilyn faced me; we embraced and kissed, mouths wide open and tongues mingling, while she guided me over to the bed. It was covered only by a clean, white sheet. When she invited me to her bedroom, I knew what Marilyn had in mind but the sight of her bed, prepared in advance for us, drove the point home. I was learning things about my sweetheart that I hadn’t known before. Before going any further, I addressed a practical matter.
“I don’t have a rubber.” Actually, I did; teenage boys back then carried condoms in their wallets, in the remote chance some girl would be willing to fuck, but I didn’t want to admit that. Even then, and even with what I had just discovered about her, I thought of her as being little more than a naive child, to be sheltered from the wicked world.
“That’s okay. I’ve been taking birth control pills since I turned 18. My parents don’t know it, though.”
Marilyn pushed her bathing suit down around her hips, and sat on the bed to pull it down her legs and off. Sitting there naked, she looked at me expectantly. I started to remove my trunks and, after difficulty in working the elastic waistband around my erection, they were on the floor. I stepped out of them and she reached out, delicately held my cock, and smiled at me, before letting go and sliding over to lie in the middle of the bed.
I followed, and she turned on her side to face me. We embraced again, our naked bodies pressed together, kissing repeatedly, with our tongues entwining. Once again, Marilyn’s breathing was deep and rapid, and I could feel her gorgeous body squirming against me. Although inexperienced, I wasn’t completely ignorant. I had read sex manuals, mostly for titillation, but some information stayed with me, including how such breathing and movements were signs of arousal. According to the manuals, in order to enter a woman’s vagina, it was necessary that she be aroused, so it would be lubricated by her natural body fluids. The most exciting reading had been the description of the foreplay needed to achieve arousal, and I remembered some of it.
Some of the best ways were caressing her body and kissing and licking her nipples, which we had enjoyed so much, and sucking her breasts. Eagerly, while stroking her hips and belly, I kissed my way down Marilyn’s throat, before gently holding her breasts again. Her nipples, when I licked them, were even more rigid than before.
“Oh, Georgie, I love that and I love you. It feels so good, what you’re doing,” Marilyn whispered.
“I love you too, Lynnie,” I whispered back, using a pet name I sometimes called her when nobody was around. It was the truth, too. I had loved Marilyn for a long time, but never as much as I did then.
I made love to her breasts, almost worshipping them, with my mouth and hands. She rolled onto her back, and I followed, leaning over her and drawing one luscious globe into my mouth and sucking on it. Her body squirmed on the bed and she moaned, but I knew it was not in pain. When I moved my mouth to her other breast, Lynnie’s movements thrust it into my mouth. For a long time, I alternated between the twin treasures, sucking and licking them in turn.
Until then, her hands had been idle, except for squeezing my arms and shoulders, but she reached down and wrapped one around my rigid cock. “I need this, Georgie. I need you now.”
I needed her too. She spread her legs, and I knelt between them. Lynnie’s pubic hair was sparse, and I could clearly see her vulva, still the only one I have ever seen. There was a narrow slit, and there appeared to be shiny flower-like petals blossoming through. When Lynnie reached down and spread the sides of the slit, a musky fragrance arose. I touched her there, gingerly, and felt an oily liquid and, when I sniffed my finger, I recognized the source of the enticing aroma. I realized it must be her lubricating fluid, meaning Lynnie was ready for what we both wanted.
She continued holding her pussy open as I leaned forward, one hand supporting my weight and the other guiding my cock, until the head pressed against something soft and wet. I moved it around, but I couldn’t see what I was doing, and I didn’t know exactly where it should go, anyhow. Lynnie knew. She felt my fumbling and used her fingers to guide the tip of my cock into the small opening where it belonged.
“There! Right there.”
I could feel something soft pressing against either side of the end of my cock. With a firm push, the head wedged between what I would later learn were her pussy lips, and she gasped, but continued holding herself open for me.
“Does it hurt, Lynnie? If it hurts, I’ll stop.”
“No. No, it feels good. Please don’t stop.”
I didn’t want to stop, but I didn’t want to hurt the most wonderful girl in the world either. I pushed my cock in slightly deeper, but stopped again, because I could feel something blocking my way. It was Lynnie’s cherry, or hymen, something I had read about and heard about, and I knew I would have to hurt her, but I hoped it wouldn’t be too much.
“This is going to hurt a little.”
“I know that. I’m really glad it’s you doing it. I’m ready.”
I pushed my cock ahead firmly and, suddenly, it burst through. I saw Lynnie wince, and heard her breathe in sharply between her teeth, and I paused.
“Don’t stop, Georgie. It’s through, and it only hurt a little. It doesn’t hurt at all, now. I love you so much, and I’m so happy we’re doing this together.”
“Me too, Lynnie. Right now, I love you even more than I ever have, and I’m glad we’re here with each other.”
As I eased my cock in farther, I felt a sudden gush of wetness inside her pussy. It covered my cock and helped me penetrate farther. I wanted to go slowly, making sure she could accommodate it. My cock was not particularly big, judging by what I had seen in the locker room, but Lynnie was very tight, and as inexperienced as I was. My biggest concern just then was that I didn’t want to hurt her by rushing. Slowly, I stroked back and, equally slowly, I thrust forward again.
“Mmmmm, that feels really good now.”
It felt wonderful to me too, and I whispered to her how good it was, and how much I loved her. With more slow strokes, I plunged my cock deeper and deeper into her pussy, and it felt even better, as she kept producing the fluid that made it possible for me to enter her like that. When I heard what sounded like a low moan, I stopped with my cock drawn back for another stroke.
“Did you moan? Does it hurt?”
“No. I moaned because it keeps feeling better the farther into me you go.”
Until then, Lynnie had been lying passively, but when I stroked forward the next time, she pushed back to meet me, and moaned again, but louder, when our bodies met. My cock was all the way inside her precious pussy, and I leaned forward to curl my arms under hers. She reached up and pulled my face to hers, and we kissed as I drew back my cock. She was so wet by then that it glided easily into her, while she thrust back to meet me. Over and over, kissing and whispering of our love, we continued the same long, slow strokes.
Her movements had been smooth until then, but they started to become more erratic, rocking from side to side as she moved freely under me. I always thought of Lynnie as being delicate, so I didn’t put much weight on her body.
Her moaning grew louder and she started whimpering. Suddenly, she clutched my shoulders. “Georgie! What’s happening? It’s so wonderful!”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought she was having an orgasm. I was close to cumming, myself. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Lynnie cried out joyously; her legs squeezed mine and her fingernails dug into my shoulders.
It was painful, but nothing, compared to the exquisite pleasure I felt welling up inside me, seeming to come from everywhere, to concentrate in my groin. Just as Lynnie’s muscles clenched, I climaxed, my semen gushing into her. I plunged into her again and again, and more of my cum squirted, until I was done. I had masturbated hundreds of times, but getting myself off like that was nothing compared with what Lynnie’s virginal pussy had just done for me.
It was great for her too. “I think I just had an organism,” she told me.
“Orgasm. The first time I saw the word I got it wrong too.”
I slowly drew my cock from her pussy, and we looked at the blood that was smeared on both our bodies. We would wash it off later, besides changing the sheet and bandaging my shoulders, but that could wait. I lay beside Lynnie, and she turned to face me. We whispered about what we had just done, and how it hadn’t hurt at all, and how happy we were that we did it with each other. After a few more minutes, Marilyn got more serious.
“George, do you think I’m a slut?”
“Of course not. You’re sweet and wonderful.”
“But, we’re not married, and we just had sex.”
“Yeah, but we love each other, and we will be married as soon as we can.”
“That’s what I think too. A few months ago, I read about something in this magazine in the library, what it called ‘The Sexual Revolution’. It said more and more people our age, are rebelling against old ideas about not having sex, or making love, until they’re married. When I read it, I couldn’t help thinking somebody wrote it about you and me, and I realized they were right.” I hadn’t read the magazine, but I agreed with what it said, and I told Lynnie that I felt the same way.
We lay there together, her voluptuous body pressed against mine, for a long time. The closeness had the results you’d expect, which we both noticed. Lynnie held my hard cock in her hand and smiled at me.
“Do you want to do it again?”
Well, of course I did!
After that night, we made love whenever we could, our feelings for each other growing stronger every time. When her parents or mine were away, we got together in the empty house to demonstrate again our love for each other. At the University, it was easier. Her dormitory roommates and mine, comrades-in-arms in the sexual revolution, understood, and a towel on the door handle gave us privacy, whichever room we used. We, of course, returned the favor when asked. Sometimes we spent a whole weekend in a motel near the campus, and those were the best times of all, making love and sleeping afterward in each other’s arms.
We experimented with things, like oral sex, that sophisticated friends suggested, and incorporated them into our love-making. We tried different positions too, but mostly preferred the naked body to body position of our first time. We also enjoyed what we learned was called “the cowgirl position”, with Lynnie sitting on top, rocking back and forth, with my cock driving up into her, and her lovely breasts bouncing and swaying above me.
At home again, we had to be more careful, making our times together even more precious. Again, we broached the idea of marriage to our parents, but they insisted we were still too young and, with our whole lives ahead of us, should wait a little longer. Our return to the university was a relief, because we could be so much more open about the physical aspects of our love. When we returned home after our sophomore years, our parents were more amenable to our desires.
“You’ve been seeing each other for almost four years now. I guess that’s long enough to know your minds,” her parents said. My parents had said much the same thing a few hours earlier. We didn’t really need their permission, but we both would have been very reluctant to marry without it.
We hoped we could get married on the anniversary of the night we consummated our love, but we settled for a Saturday, two days earlier than that date. Marilyn wore a long white gown, which meant something then, but we didn’t feel like hypocrites. After the reception, we drove to the lakeside resort we had chosen for our honeymoon. That night, we lay naked in bed, and I slid my cock into her pussy in the way we were so used to, but would never grow tired of.
“We’re legal now,” I whispered.
“We’ve always been legal, Silly,” my bride said, and pulled my face down to kiss me before I could make any more dumb comments.
*
Thank you for reading this story. I hope you had as much fun as Lynnie and I did, and are still having over 45 years later. I like writing stories on Literotica, but I like it a lot more when I know that people are reading and enjoying them, and I appreciate it when readers take the time to express their opinions by voting. Like most authors on Literotica, I practically live for feedback from readers, either public comments or email to me. Such feedback, whether praise or criticism, helps me to write more and better stories, and I respond to it whenever I can.
