A Missed Opprtunity

Author's Note

In 1971 the State of Michigan passed a law that lowered the age for the purchase and consumption of alcohol from 21 to 18 on January 1st 1972. In retrospect that seems short-sighted, but at the time a common complaint was "I'm old enough to fight for my country, buy a car, get married, and so on, but I can't have a beer?" Soon leveler heads prevailed and the drinking age was raised back to 21. I mention this so that the reader will understand how a high-school senior could have a drink with a teacher at the prom. I never drank very much while I was in high-school -- that behavior waited until my freshmen year at college where frequent over-consumption, vomiting, and acting like a total jerk became commonplace.

This is a story highlighting my ineptitude at reading situations then, and realizing later what I missed -- both in picking up on cues and an adventure I would have really enjoyed. The second parts of the story is how I imagine the situation would have evolved if I wasn't so inept.

A Missed Opportunity

"Would you like to come over and play some tennis?" said the voice on the phone.

The voice was Margaret O'Connor, my former 12th grade English teacher. Mrs. O'Connor was an alumnus of our school. She graduated (as Margaret Sullivan), went off to college, earned a teaching degree, married Chuck O'Connor, and took a job teaching at her alma mater all in a four-year span. My senior year was her second-year teaching; she was 22 and I turned 18 in March. She was pretty in the classic Viking- descended Irish look with red hair, pale skin, and freckles that faded into cream the further down her breasts you looked. The breasts themselves were plenty adequate for my filthy imagination and I used to stop at her desk when she was sitting and try to peek down her blouse while I asked some stupid made-up question about a paper or assignment. She never seemed (to me) to notice, but in retrospect I think she likely did.

Our Lord Have Mercy was a co-educational Catholic high school in an urban suburb of Detroit. Our town was an enclave where you were either Irish or Polish (or sometimes both, like the Dombrowski kids whose mother had been an O'Donnell). Our fathers worked for the auto companies (except Joe Szymczak whose father was a taster at the brewery).

The class was American Literature and I was the only senior in it. I was a voracious reader and had already completed all the advanced English courses, but still was required to take an English course my senior year. The counselor tried to dissuade me from the course, "It's a lower-level course - even freshmen can take it." But I said that I liked American Literature and I thought I'd enjoy it. I didn't let the counselor know that what I planned to enjoy was interacting with Mrs. O'Connor. I did appreciate the class and Mrs. O'Connor always made me feel special. I got an A in the class; which wasn't unusual for me in classes I liked (but Cs and Ds were common in classes I didn't). I was bright but almost never studied or did my homework. Now, looking back, I think my grade in the class was a bit inflated.

Mrs. O'Connor was a chaperone at our Senior Prom and she brought her husband Chuck. The prom was held at a big old fancy hotel downtown. While there was no alcohol in the venue itself, because of the new law, students were allowed to go to the hotel bar and order a drink. At some point Mrs. O'Connor invited me to join her and Chuck at their table in the bar. I don't remember what Chuck had, Mrs. O'Connor had a white wine, and I ordered a Guinness. Chuck looked surprised that I'd ordered the dark and bitter brew, but I said "I'm Irish -- I ought to drink Irish beer," not letting him know that this was the second total beer in my life and that Guinness was the only Irish beer I knew. Chuck seemed a bit stiff to me that evening. I hadn't met him before and I attributed his demeanor to being dragged to an event where he knew no one. Now that I look back, the lively conversation I was having with Mrs. O'Connor and her animated responses may have contributed to his mood. That, and I found out later they were getting divorced. I don't know if they had committed to that path yet on that day, but their relationship must have already been strained at that point and they had separated by graduation time. I knew this because Mrs. O'Connor called me to her desk on the last day of class and told me.

"I've never played Mrs. O'Connor, -- but I'm willing to try," I said.

"Chuck and I are getting a divorce. I've moved to an apartment by myself; let me give you directions. By the way, call me Maggie -- and I'm taking back Sullivan," she said.

"OK Maggie, what time?"

"Anytime you can get here will be fine."

It was early afternoon and I was home alone. My parents were at work and my younger brother was fishing someplace, like he did every day. I rode over to Maggie's apartment building on my bicycle. I rode everywhere on my bike - I had even taken extensive camping trips with it. I didn't otherwise exercise, but all that riding kept me in shape.

Maggie answered the door in tennis clothes - a sleeveless white blouse and a VERY short white skirt. I was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. We went down to the court and my ineptitude was immediately apparent. If I connected with the ball at all it went flying widely. It was very hot outside and after about 10 minutes we stopped the game and Maggie invited me up to her apartment for a drink.

"I got you your favorite beer," she said, "or would you like some wine? I've got some cooled down in the fridge."

"The beer will be fine," I said.

She brought in the drinks then sat across from me on the couch. I have already mentioned how short her skirt was and the way she sat I could see all the way up her legs to the yellow tennis panties she wore. I'd seen glimpses of yellow while we played, but now I had a clear view. I pretended not to notice - but I peeked. I thought I could even see the outline of her slit in the close-fitting material.

As we drank, she talked about her separation, "My friends and family are always trying to fix me up with guys, but the results have been disastrous. One fellow must only bathe when the moon is full or something -- he stunk! Another one didn't have the brains God gave a rock -- GEEZ!. I invited one guy for dinner -- I don't know why -- he said he'd bring some wine - he brought Rosie O'Grady!! I know we're Irish -- but ROSIE O'GRADY!" (Rosie O'Grady was a cheap fortified wine that was popular with drunks and high-school kids who drank it for it's high alcohol content and low price.)

We finished our drinks and Maggie said she'd get up for more. As she went to stand up, her legs opened wide and I really got to see the tennis panties -- OOOOOOOOO! I was getting hard!

Maggie came back in a couple minutes and again sat down in a way that fully exposed her crotch -- maybe she thought of the tennis panties like a swim bottom rather than underwear. I was clueless and rapidly expanding; I hoped she didn't notice. A few minutes later she wiped her brow. "I'm hot and sweaty -- I think I'm going to take a shower."

"OK," I said, "I'll get going."

I didn't know what to make of the expression on her face. She tried inviting me over a couple more times with similar results, and that was that.

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Later -- MUCH later, I figured out what was going on and imagined what could have been. She was beautiful and it could have been wonderful. This is how I picture it could have gone if I weren't so dense. Let's pick the story up as Maggie gets up to refill the drinks:

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As she got up from the couch, I saw straight up to her crotch -- and I could definitely see the cleft of her slit. As she went by, Maggie leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I sat stunned for a minute, then it finally clicked - GOD! I'd been such a doofus!

I got up and followed her to the kitchen. Her back was turned to me as she was pouring some wine. I came up behind her and put my arms around her waist. She made a purring noise and leaned back into me, then turned and, pulling my face into hers, began a deep and passionate kiss. I leaned into the kiss and soon found myself pressing into her pelvis -- she kissed back even more enthusiastically. She reached around my ass and pulled me in firmly. I brought my right hand up and touched her breast through the fabric. She moaned and squirmed, pressing her body even closer to mine. Oh, it felt wonderful!!!!

She backed off for a moment, and then slipped her hands into my gym shorts. OH MY GOD!! I about came right then. That felt wonderful. Should I dare? I thought, then moved my right hand from her breast to the front of her tennis skirt. My tentative hand was met with a bold push on her part. I reached under the skirt and began sliding my fingers along her pussy -- still outside of the tennis panties. She moved her pelvis back and forth with me and I could feel the tennis panties getting wet. She fondled my penis and caressed my balls -- OH MY GOD!! I'd never felt anything like that.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she barely croaked.

To put a bit of context on the situation, my total sexual experience to date was feeling some (a few) breasts through clothing kept firmly intact, and a total of two (TWO!) times touching a bare breast. And, both times, the girls let me know that this was NOT going to happen again. As Billy Joel sang, "Catholic girls start much to late!"

We got to the bedroom and began feverishly stripping each other. I was so excited I could barely unbutton her blouse, and she had to unclasp her bra for me. OH! WHAT BEAUTIFUL BREASTS!!! She had distinct tan lines and her freckles faded as I looked lower where she hadn't been exposed to the sun. Her areolas were pinkish red and the nipples poked out. GOD they were gorgeous! I don't know what size they were, but they were lovely!

She lay down on her back and pulled me into her. OOOOOOOOOOOHH!! The feeling of her vagina around my penis was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I remember it well today and it is still one of the most wonderful sensations in the world. I came in about 30 seconds. I pushed into her as hard as I could and relished the feeling of my balls pressing into her pussy lips -- another new and totally delightful sensation!

After a couple of minutes, I rolled off her and onto my back. Then she totally shocked me by moving down and took my dick into her mouth -- after I'd been inside her! She licked me and fondled my balls, even briefly taking each one into her mouth. I even felt her finger briefly touch my anus -- did she really do that?? I got hard again and came into her mouth. When I was done, she came up to kiss me and slurped some of the cum into my mouth. This was a totally fantastic experience.

"Now you've got to do me," she said -- rolling onto her back and opening her legs.

I finally really looked at her pussy. She was a true redhead. What was bright copper on her head was the color of an old penny at her pussy. Her pubic hair was tangled and blotted with cum. I could smell the scent of sex and semen. "Come on," she said, beckoning with her pelvis.

I moved down on the bed between her legs -- still looking at her pussy. OH!!! It was so amazing! I got hard again (remember, I was young!). I leaned forward and gave her pubic hair a tentative lick, and then began with more enthusiasm. I tasted my cum and her own sweaty, sexy, juices. I pressed my face in further, licking furiously. She reached down and, pressing her hands on either side of my head, pushed me forcefully into herself. Soon her hips began to grind up and down -- arching her back and pressing even more firmly into my face. She began moving faster and faster, and then screamed. I felt her pussy muscles squeeze and pulsate. I stuck my tongue into her vagina to feel the pulses even better (still one of my favorite things to do). I moved up to kiss her and she plunged her tongue into my mouth -- licking our mixed sexual juices. My dick was roaring hard and I plunged it into her again. Since this was my third erection in less than an hour, I lasted longer and then again felt the wonderful sensation of coming deep into her pussy.

We spent the rest of the summer fucking like rabbits; then I went off to college in the fall. She married again that winter -- this time to a Polish fellow. I was invited to the wedding but I didn't go. I did send them a card and what, for me with my limited budget, I thought was a nice present, a blown glass Christmas ornament with tennis themes etched onto it's surface.