I was just a few weeks shy of 18, and it was literally my final official day of high school. Exams were over, teachers were cleaning out their classrooms, but I had to go one more time, to get my photo taken for a couple of scholarship applications. This was long before email, and I lived far out in the country, more than 20 miles from school, so it wasn’t easy. I got a lift from the school bus driver, who was dropping it off for summer maintenance, but after the photo session, I had to hitch a ride back home.
There I was, standing with my thumb out at the edge of town, at 11 am on the last day of June, and a very hot day it was already. To my surprise, the third car going by slammed on the brakes and pulled over, and I ran over to hop into a sporty-looking red Mustang – an unusual car for a rural area. Even more surprising, the drive was one of my classmates, a young woman named Patricia. It turned out she had also been getting her photo taken, and she was dressed up way beyond her regular blue jeans and patterned blouse. Today she was in a short pastel yellow dress, matching her hair. Patricia was a quiet, “big-boned” farm girl, one of those who did a lot of chores and had the legs and arms to prove it. I tried not to stare at those legs as I climbed in, but couldn’t help it.
Thrown together unexpectedly, we were free for ten minutes to talk about the next steps in our lives. Then Patricia turned directly into her driveway, and told me her parents and younger brother and sister weren’t home – they had gone to the nearest shopping mall for the day, nearly an hour from our neck of the woods. When she asked if I wanted a glass of water or a cold beer, I jumped at the offer. After all, I didn’t have to be home until supper, and I could walk most of the way even if I didn’t get another ride.
Patricia led me into the kitchen, and I got another eyeful as she bent way down to get a couple of beers from the fridge. The yellow dress rode up high on the back of her thighs, and later I wondered – did she really have to bend quite that far down, or was she just showing off a bit?
We sat down at opposite ends of a long sofa in the living room. As I leaned back to relax and take a sip, she swung her legs up to stretch out across the cushions, tugging at the helm of the dress. I glanced down, hoping to see a little more from this new perspective, but she held her thighs close together. This time she definitely saw me looking, but I never expected what happened next.
Patricia’s eyes lit up a bit, and a smile came to her lips. Then she asked, “did I just see you checking out my legs?”
Caught red-handed, I stammered out something like, “um, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Which actually turned out to be more or less what she hoped to hear. Probably it was just the beer, the heat, having the house to herself, but suddenly this shy young farm girl decided to seize the moment.
“That’s OK,” she said. “Maybe you’d like to see a little more. I could show you mine if you show me yours.”
There was no time to think. I looked at her, lowered the fly on my jeans, and started to slide them down, together with my jockey shorts. In just a few seconds, my erect cock was displayed. The sight seemed to mesmerise her, until I wrapped my fingers around it and slowly gave a tug or two.
That broke the momentary spell. Patricia set down her beer, and reached to grasp the hem of the dress. She quickly pulled it up around her waist, revealing plain white cotton panties. I began to stroke my cock a little faster, and she watched in complete fascination. A damp area was visible at the crotch of the panties – partly perspiration from the heat of the day, but also from the excitement of the moment. Growing up on the farm, she must have known about the birds and the bees, but I guessed this was her first sight of a guy masturbating his erect penis. Finally she reached into her underwear, starting to rub her slit without taking her eyes off me.
We carried on like this for a while, hearts pounding, both afraid to talk. But finally I felt obliged to say it: “Well, I’m showing you mine, but I don’t see yours so far.”
That gave her a moment’s pause. Clearly she was too aroused to stop, but here was a line she hadn’t really thought about.
“Yeah,” she finally agreed. “But no touching. Got that?”
“Sure,” I said immediately. “I won’t touch you.”
My promise was quick, but not without some regret. I would have given almost anything to pull my pants off, move up between Patricia’s big thighs, slide my erection deep into her cunt, and end my virginal status (and presumably hers) with a few thrusts. But mostly I was just delighted to get this far, and desperate to get a close look at her pussy before ejaculating – which couldn’t be delayed too much longer.
Lifting up her large bottom, she pulled her underwear down, but not completely off. Now the white panties were around her knees, giving me a close look at the female anatomy. I hit the jackpot. She was a full blonde, with fair and very light pubic hair. Her pussy was completely exposed as she began rubbing her clit again. Wiggling around to get comfortable, she drew up her knees, spreading her legs slightly wider. Probably she didn’t realize this, but now I also had a good view of her bum cheeks.
Awestruck by this sight, I stroked my erection faster and harder, bringing a clear drop to the tip. Patricia’s two-finger jilling style revealed her inner pussy lips, slightly darker than her skin, and by now incredibly slick. Below, I could glimpse a bit of her crinkled rosebud between two jiggling butt cheeks. I was edging closer to climax, but tried to delay, slowing my rhythm. Her eyes were still riveted on my cock, and she began rubbing even faster. One of us would come within seconds.
In the end, I was far too excited to stop, and several spurts of come shot out, right up across my belly and shirt. The sight put Patricia over the edge, cheeks turning red, her eyes closing. Suddenly her head tilted back, her hips began to move, and a long moaning orgasm began. I was completely rivetted.
Then we were both spent, sagging back into the sofa, taking deep breaths. We lay there for a couple of minutes, until she suddenly seemed to remember that she was half naked in front of a boy she hardly knew. Jumping off the sofa, she yanked up her panties and pulled down the hem of the crumpled yellow dress, looking both embarrassed and a bit proud of herself at the same time.
I took this as a hint that the adventure was over, and awkwardly got back into my pants, taking care not to catch my dick with the zipper. Draining my beer with one final swig, I looked down at the mess on my shirt.
“Um,” I ventured, “do you suppose I could wash up a bit?”
“Of course,” Patricia replied, pointing to the hallway without looking me in the eye. “The bathroom’s just on the left.”
I cleaned up as best I could, knowing that my shirt would dry fast back out in the hot sun. When I got out of the bathroom, she was sitting at the dining room table, not far from the sofa where we had just abandoned all inhibitions.
Not sure what to say, I mumbled a few words of thanks for the ride and the beer. Tactfully, I left out “and for showing me your totally naked pussy.” We gave our goodbyes and took one last look at each other, and I was out the door. Our worlds had collided for less than an hour, and now we were heading in different directions. I walked back to the highway, and two short rides later, I was home.
I have no idea whatever happened to Patricia. I hope she found a great first guy to fuck her gorgeous blonde pussy and that heavenly fat ass. Too bad it couldn’t have been me!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6hi0vy/fun_on_the_farm_my_first_mutual_masturbation
Fake.
One person responded that this was fake – since nobody remembers where they were on particular dates years ago. In general, that’s true. But people often do remember really big things (Where were you on 9/11? Or when your S.O. proposed? etc.) In this case, how could I ever forget something so totally hot? We all remember our first kiss, first intercourse, and so on. Plus, it really was on that final day of the school calendar – that’s why I was on the bus to school, but not back home. I can easily check calendars to find the precise date, which I’m not going to give here. One minor detail – the Mustang. That could be wrong, but it was something like that, very odd for even a well-off farm family in that time period. And they were doing well, I could tell from the top of the line farm equipment, fresh-painted barns and silos, etc. Patricia’s pussy and lovely big ass? God I’ll remember that to the day I die.
Without exact dates, I remember my first real kiss. I also remember when I lost my virginity with a girl that I thought we were just hang out friends. It must have been the World Series on TV that had her deciding we were going to step up things a notch. I can’t remember the game number, but I remember the team’s; Cards v. brewers.
Odd, before that night, I had done no more than maybe hold her hand. Never thought about kissing her, let alone sex. I told her I was a virgin. She said she was not, but was willing to help me discover her body.