Part One

I can still fondly and clearly recall that memorable day although it occurred more than 40 years ago. It was a typical Saturday afternoon in May. It was about 2 o’clock. I, Sheldon Quinn, age 30, was busily doing a few household chores that I had been putting off, as I often tended to do. I worked out of my home as a bookkeeper, a private tutor, a writer, and a proofreader. It was certainly a hectic life, but I liked it because I was my own boss: I had the freedom to set my own schedule and I answered to no one but myself. I didn’t particularly like taking orders from anyone.

I lived alone. That surprised no one as I was a bit of a loner by nature. I had no wife and no steady romantic interest. (I had generally lost interest in pursuing marriage five years earlier after my fiancee, Gayle, suddenly broke up with me a month before we were supposed to get married for reasons she never did specify to me. That crushed me emotionally. I don’t think I ever really recovered from the shock of our unexpected breakup.) Not long after that happened, my parents, who passionately hated the winter weather where they had lived their entire lives, decided to move to a warmer climate. The frigid months of the year did not bother me too much, however, so I was quite content living in the same community where I was born and raised. I moved out of my bachelor apartment and took up residence in the house my parents had vacated—which was my old home, of course. I began slowly but surely buying my folks’ house from them in increments via regular payments. It was a win-win arrangement for all three of us.

The neighborhood hadn’t changed much since I was a kid. The Kellys, the Fergusons, the O’Reillys, and three or four other families still resided on Brich Avenue as they had for decades. The Madisons, who lived directly across the street from me, had been there 15 years. They were especially friendly to me and always had been. I think they felt sorry for me, on some, level for being an unmarried young man. I reciprocated by being as nice to them as possible, too. Their daughter, Meghan, was a cute blonde who was always keen to show me what she had been learning at school and telling me about her life. Meghan was definitely a bright girl. An only child, she was also extremely affectionate. She would give me hugs for no apparent reason and cuddle up beside me on the couch when I visited her parents. Meghan was also a bit nosey about my personal life. “Why aren’t you married, Sheldon?” she would ask with a dreamy look in her beautiful blue eyes. “I can’t understand it; you are such a nice man—and handsome, too. You should definitely have a wife.”

My routine answer became, “Meghan, in a few years, if I’m still single, perhaps we can get together, and you can fill the void because I think you’re adorable!” That remark always brought a smile to Meghan’s face which was quickly followed by an affectionate bear hug. Her parents found her flirtatious behavior with me, and my good-natured acceptance of it, to be very entertaining. They just laughed at it. I never expected things to escalate as they did on this particular Saturday in May 1984.

Part Two

That day I was busily doing some dishes that had piled up in the sink when, by glancing through the window, I saw Meghan leave her house across the street and head in the direction of mine. I had babysat Meghan occasionally in the past, but she had never dropped by my house just to have a visit—not even once. This was a total surprise to me—and quite a pleasant one, too. Meghan always made me smile with her presence and her quaint observations about the world. She’d do more than that today.

I opened the front door as she ascended the small staircase that led to it. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise, Meghan!” I said sincerely. “It’s been a while. As I recall, the last time you were here was about seven years ago when I babysat you on a Saturday night when your parents were at a party somewhere. I remember your house was being painted, so you came here instead of me going to yours.”

“You have an excellent memory, Sheldon!” Meghan declared. “I was going to ask you if you remembered the last time I was here—and you just told me without me having to prompt you! That’s very impressive.”

“You should come here more often, ” I said just as a general point, but I was surprised at Meghan’s prompt answer.

“I intend to visit you all the time from now on. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Sheldon.”

I had no idea where this conversation was leading, but I offered Meghan a chair, a cold drink, and some ginger cookies I kept for the rare times I had visitors. She accepted all three. “So, what’s all this about frequent visits?” I curiously asked her. “Whatever it is, I think it sounds like a lovely idea. You know I love being around you. I am rather fond of you.”

Meghan smiled at my compliment. She took a deep breath and explained, “Well, we were having a discussion at school yesterday in our guidance class about life partners and what we should be seeking in one. The more the conversation went on, the more I realized my ideal life partner had the character traits I see in you, Sheldon, despite you being quite a bit older than I am. You’ve always joked that we should get married someday, but I honestly think we should seriously consider it.”

That was quite the way to begin a friendly Saturday afternoon visit! Meghan then rose from her chair, plopped herself on my lap, and gave me an excellent romantic smooch that took me completely by surprise. Honestly, the most surprising part was how much I liked it! It was a truly terrific kiss! She was about to apply a second one on my lips but I reluctantly stopped her for a moment.

“Whoa, Meghan!” I said to her as if she were a horse instead of an amorous girl.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you like being kissed by me?”

“I like it too much!” I insisted. “That’s the problem, given our age difference.”

“Ages are just numbers, ” Meghan opined and waved her right hand dismissively. “I believe if two people willfully agree to be intimate, those numbers shouldn’t matter one bit.”

“I suspect a lot of people would agree with you, Meghan” I replied.

“Are you one of them, Sheldon?” Meghan asked me. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was eagerly awaiting my answer, whatever it may be.

“Yeah, I guess so...” I said with obvious hesitation and somewhat unconvincingly.

“Let me remove any doubt in your mind, ” Meghan stated. Then she began to disrobe by unbuttoning her blouse. I did not do anything to stop her. She was right: I was overjoyed by this attractive female’s fixation on me and I wanted to take it as far as I possibly could. Furthermore, I was definitely becoming sexually aroused by this 18-year-old cutie. I said nothing at all as I began to remove my clothing, too.

The thing I remember the most about the passionate sexual encounter that followed was that neither Meghan nor I uttered a single word during the entire time our wonderful carnal adventure lasted. (At least I personally don’t recall any conversation. We just went at it as if this was the tenth time we had screwed instead of the very first instance. I suppose we felt that talking was unnecessary. It was action that was important.)

The moment we were both completely undressed, I advanced toward Meghan, lifted her off her feet, and set her down gently on the couch in my living room. I immediately positioned my face on her lovely vagina—it had just a slight trace of pubic hair—and I began pleasing her orally with long licks in every direction. I wanted to sample Meghan’s body in every possible way, and I thought that performing cunnilingus on her was as good a way as any to begin that joyful task. Meghan uttered a few contented oohs and aahs as I quickly got down to business. I took that as a great compliment. Over the next 20 minutes or so, it was as close to actual talking as she got!

Once Meghan had become noticeably wet in her nether regions, I figured she ought to reciprocate my kindness. Accordingly, I moved upwards on her body, straddled her, and placed my penis near her lips. I didn’t need to tell Meghan what I desperately wanted from her. It was patently obvious, even to someone whom I figured had little or no prior sexual experience at all. She complied without being asked. Meghan flashed me a naughty smile, opened her mouth, and allowed me to place my manhood inside it. The feeling was wonderful. Meghan may have been a sexual novice, but she knew enough to both suck on my erection and give it a few sensuous licks. Despite her utter inexperience, this girl had a natural talent for giving blowjobs, which included fondling my testicles with both hands and focusing her licks on the tip of my aroused shaft. I felt my penis grow another inch because of Meghan’s handiwork. I thought I did extremely well not to ejaculate while my dick was inside her mouth. That would have been a wasteful use of resources, in my opinion. At the moment, I wanted to come where nature intended males to deposit their sperm.

Before I got to that particular climax of our lovemaking, I enjoyed Meghan’s small breasts. As beautiful as Meghan was, she was not well-endowed by any stretch of the imagination. She would never be hired as a swimsuit model. It hardly mattered to me, though. Her tiny tits were absolute treats to behold as flat-chested girls were strangely a turn-on to me—and always had been for as long as I could remember. (I suppose that fetish of mine dated back to when I was in the fourth grade. One afternoon in a remote and distant part of the schoolyard, an amorous classmate named Mary Dupree decided she wanted me to see her in her birthday suit—as long as I did the same thing for her. Hey, I was no fool; I absolutely was open to that agreement! No touching was allowed; Mary drew the line at that. Nevertheless, I certainly liked what I saw.) Meghan was, of course, better built than 10-year-old Mary, but with her A-cup brassiere, she was far from being a voluptuous female. Nevertheless, I was fully aroused by Meghan’s delightful young body. I thoroughly enjoyed caressing and groping her pointy little tits and sucking on them vigorously. More contented oohs and aahs followed. Apparently, I was satisfying Meghan quite nicely.

My erection felt extremely strong and powerful. It was as good as any hard-on that I had attained since puberty first struck me nearly 20 years before. Therefore, I knew the time had come to penetrate my visitor to the best of my ability with my ready and willing penis. Meghan, too, sensed the critical moment was at hand as she noticeably spread her legs while I was still busily sucking on her delectable set of small goodies. Our joint silence was maintained as I repositioned myself to give Meghan a solid fucking.

Screwing Meghan felt as wonderful as I suspected it would be. (To be perfectly honest, I had fantasized about it on more than one occasion.) Now that it was a reality, I was torn between making love to her romantically or just roughly ravishing her. I ended up doing a bit of both. I began by slowly inserting my dick into Meghan’s inviting crevice. I wanted her to get used to the wonderful sensation of having a firm penis inside her most private part. I gave her a few gentle thrusts which brought a loving look to her pretty face. I was pleased by that reaction, so I decided to be a little more assertive in my screwing. I moved completely on top of Meghan and began a series of fast and vigorous thrusts with my throbbing rod. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was pleasing my partner, but I was absolutely certainly that I was pleasing myself. Meghan’s tight pussy was heavenly!

For the sake of variety, I pulled my penis out of Meghan’s vagina for just a brief time so I could reposition her for a doggy-style screw as a finale. I was delighted that Meghan possessed a cute “bubble butt” that I had never really noticed before. I happily caressed it—and even planted a few playful kisses upon it—before I restarted copulating with her. Once I resumed the rhythm of screwing Meghan, this time from behind, it wasn’t long before I was balls-deep inside her with my hands still groping her succulent breasts as a bonus. Having sex with Meghan was great fun. I was more than delighted that she had suggested the idea.

About two minutes later, I had the unmistakable sensation that an ejaculation was imminent. All males know that feeling! My natural instinct was to deposit a load of cum inside Meghan’s inviting pussy, but given the circumstances, I thought better of it. Instead, I pulled out with about five seconds to spare, carefully positioned my dick in her butt crack, and promptly spewed a huge amount of warm jism onto her back in a series of three rapid spurts. One of the cum blasts was so strong that a good portion of it ended up landing in Meghan’s blonde hair that dipped a few inches below her shoulders. That was a sexy sight! Moreover, I figured it was the best orgasm I had ever had, beating the handful of superb ones I had enjoyed with my ex-fiance Gayle before our sudden breakup five years earlier. Young Meghan Madison had brought out the best in me. I was a happy fellow.

I decided to end the silence by asking Meghan a question of great importance: “Did I please you, honey?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Meghan repeated herself, which boosted my male ego considerably. Over the years, I had never once had a female complain that I was an inadequate lover—and I didn’t want this amorous sweetheart of a schoolgirl to be the first.

I told her that I had done my best to make this experience fun and memorable for her. Her response was to ask if she had been a good sex partner for me.

I laughed about her doubts. I told her honestly, “Judging from that huge load of cum that came flying out of my balls, I’d say you did quite well for a first-time lover, Meghan. In fact, I’d say you were nothing short of superb.” That positive review elicited a huge smile from my youthful neighbor. We quickly embraced and kissed for several minutes, which was a thoroughly enjoyable pastime, too.

“May I come here every afternoon from now on for more screwing?” Meghan asked me. “You know I really liked doing it, Sheldon, and I want to have wonderful sex with you as often as possible. That would be fantastic! Can we do this together regularly?”

“Every day and twice on Sundays, ” I comically suggested. “I can’t possibly say no to that terrific idea. I also can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”

We tried our best to follow that lusty plan. Meghan made the short walk across the street to my house whenever she could for a vigorous session of screwing. Her parents eventually found out about our covert sexual relationship, but it took them more than three years to figure out what we had been up to during all that time in the interim. Remarkably, they didn’t object in the slightest to it, despite our age difference. They knew Meghan had loved me since the day they moved into the neighborhood and nothing was ever going to change that. We were married exactly ten years from the day of Meghan’s first surprise visit. Of course, we had chosen that date on purpose.