Cathy's Chronicles Ch. 01 - The Cabin Floor

Cathy is the imaginary equivalent of Neil, from "The Closer the Kin." She doesn't exist unless you combine the exploits of a few girls I grew up with, a few college girls I played with, and a few women I know. Put them all together, and you have Cathy. These stories are presented as her chronicles, and though I won't testify to their accuracy, the gist is supposedly true. The names are changed of course, but one great thing about being as old as I am, and writing a series about people who were born in the 1940s, were kids in the '50s, and were teens and young adults during the '60s and '70s, is that few are going to protest their stories being told in print - for one reason or another.

This first one is in a story section I've never contributed to before, but which seemed appropriate for this tale. And possibly a few others down Cathy's long road to self-fulfillment.

Note: All the heroes and heroines of these tales are 18 or over when the tale takes place, and there is no reminiscing about having sex when younger than 18 because Cathy didn't.

Cathy's Chronicles Ch.1: The Cabin Floor

I'm an 18 year-old senior, he's a 21 year-old construction worker. We recently had a brief (three month) breakup after going together for over three years; since I was 15. He's always been respectful of me (some say I was the dominant one in our relationship) because, he said, "You're a good Christian girl. Someone who would make a good wife." Therefore, our dates were usually rated G, with a few PG 13s in which there was kissing, but the first three years I was mainly interested in socializing, dancing, and having an older, out-of-town boyfriend who was only around on weekends.

I had the weekdays to myself and didn't have to make allowances for a boyfriend until Friday night. As self-centered as I was, that worked perfectly.

You see, I'm the youngest daughter of a good family, and I might be a little spoiled. Dad is a very successful businessman and two-term mayor of our little town, and I think that intimidated Teddy, along with my popularity.

Anyway, three years of dating on weekends, usually to the rock and roll dances I love in area dancehalls, or movies, or events like drag races in Bryan, Houston, or Academy. He loves cars and always has some souped-up hot rod, like a candy apple red '57 Chevy Bel Air with three deuces, or the '64 Chevy Super Sport he bought next. We talked a lot while driving to and from dancehalls all over our part of east central Texas, and we agreed on several things. One, that I'm too young to get serious with anyone. Two, that I'm way to young to get pregnant, which meant I was too young to have sex. And three, we both wanted to be virgins when we married.

Remember, I was 14/15/16, not 18, about to graduate and go off to college. I was past playing dolls, and I dang sure didn't want a live baby to care for! So, no sex, and nothing that could lead to sex!

That all aside, I'm a hot-shit high school girl: Head Twirler for the band, Prom Princess, Homecoming Queen, and Football Sweetheart, and Teddy works construction in Houston with his big brother. There is a clear declivity there, and he recognized it and respected it, and me. Well, respected and worshipped would be a little more honest.

While it's true that I'm a hot shit high school girl, queen of this and sweetheart of that - I don't understand why! I grew up with a lot of my schoolmates, I'm nice enough to everyone, but I've never dated any of my classmates or school mates. Shouldn't that be a problem? It seems like before I came along the football sweetheart, for example, was a cheerleader who dated the football star. I didn't; so why did I win the title?

Based on female feedback, male expression of appreciation, and my own judgement, I consider myself to have above average legs and ass, smaller than normal tits, and a face that features a too-prominent nose, as compared to the tiny buttons and small ski slopes I see on 'pretty girls.'

That said, even as a sophomore, when the senior football boys come out of the dressing room for their practice, they would line up on the bleachers and watch us practice twirling. I could feel their eyes watching me, and I got a little excited because they were 'older boys.' But none ever made a move on me. My conclusion was that I wasn't as pretty as the girls they did date.

Later, when we had reunions that covered the decade of the '60s, I learned better, but back then it affected my self-concept. In my mind, my friendly personality won titles for me, not my looks.

Anyway, back to the story. Midway through my senior year Teddy decided he wanted to date someone closer to his age because he was getting older and wanted to get married soon and I was hell-bent on going to college.

Good grief: I was 18, and not at all ready to be keeping a house, having and raising babies, and cooking for my darling husband! Heck, I literally didn't know how to operate the stove - that was Mom's job! And I'd never even held a live baby.

I was a busy girl and a good student who was going off to college at the end of the year, not to some Brethren Chapel in Caldwell to get married and kept barefoot and pregnant, like a lot of girls who graduated before me!

Still, I was pissed at him for having the audacity to break up with me! Aat the same time I saw the advantages for me, so I pretended to be hurt, but became a flirt. I had always been 'the good girl' and my hometown boys didn't know what to do about flirty me!

The out-of-town boys at the dances did, and soon I had a robust dating life, and a healthy hookup life at dances. A few unattached girls would go to a dance, cast our spells, and cull until we had an interesting prospect. As 18 year-olds we were fair game for older boys, boys our age, and even audacious younger boys!

So, from my eighteenth year of life I learned important things. Things like boys kiss differently, they smell differently, they taste differently (mouth, not that!), and they make out differently. Some only got one shot - smoker's breath was a no-no, and so was getting drunk and rowdy, or clumsy on the dance floor. But some got a date or two before I moved on.

I didn't want another boyfriend - I wanted to try new things!

Then came spring, prom was around the corner, and Teddy saw me at a dancehall with a boy he didn't like. I saw him and his date too, and suddenly Johnny had my full attention. By the band's second break Teddy was broken, and humbly asked if we could go outside and talk. I was aloof, but agreed after Johnny said it was okay. Johnny moved over to talk to Teddy's date, and we went outside to his car.

Teddy apologized, and cried about how hurt he was to see me with another boy 'so soon after we broke up!' I reminded him that it had been months, that Johnny was not my first date since then, and that he had a date too! Then I coolly reminded him that he was the one who wanted to split!

More tears, more apologies, more promises about being the best boyfriend in history if I gave him another chance. I smugly agreed to let him come to the house Sunday after church, for lunch.

He was there, hat in hand, and was greeted liked Alexander the Great by my mom. I remained aloof, and by the time he had to leave for Houston with his brother, I had his new car to drive, a date to the prom, and the promise of the best corsage ever, from a flower shop in Houston!

While we were broken up I dated, among others, a rock and roll band member from Waller and a rodeo cowboy from LaGrange. From them I learned that not all boys stop when you tell them to, especially if you're panting with lust.

With Teddy, after I turned 18 I'd let it go until I was so hot and bothered I wanted to do him in the front seat of his car, but then I'd breathlessly remind him that we wanted to be virgins when we married. The rock-hard cock he had been rubbing on me told me he was a horny as I, but he had enough control that we could play around without him getting under my clothes, or on top of me in the back seat, like my girlfriends admitted doing.

I wore a short dress on my date with Mike, the member of the popular Continentals band, and he took that as an invitation. Honestly, his hand on my leg felt so good that, had he taken his time, I would have let him go further. But he had his hand up my dress after only a few seconds of kissing, and that was too much too soon! Yes, I was horny for him after a night of dancing, but I'm not a slut! I said to stop, he kept kissing me, and his hand was soon several inches closer to my coochie.

Since NO didn't work, I shut him down by threatening to yell my head off. Since we were in the parking lot of the dancehall and people were wandering around, that would probably get him beat to hell.

I was very happy we weren't out in the country somewhere, or I'd have learned more than I wanted sooner than I wanted, so that was my last date with him.

Then my best friend set me up with her boyfriend's best friend, and I got an even better lesson in male behavior and anatomy!

Jimmy did everything right from the moment he picked me up. He was complementary, flirty, and he teased me about cute things, like how tight my jeans were.

He was right - I had to lie on the bed to get them on! He then turned to telling me how good my legs and butt looked in the tight jeans, how dangerous my curves are, and described my 'Marilyn Monroe ratio', guessing 35-20-35 (he was close - 34B-18-35) and raving about how he could touch him fingers around my tiny waist.

We danced every dance, from old-school line dances like the Cotton Eyed Joe to slow ballads to country rock, and I was enamored of my date. He was familiar with my back, waist, and butt from the slow dances, though I kept moving his hand when he grasped my butt where everyone could see. When we were by the back wall, though, I let us enjoy his advances. I was hot and horny for him, and he seemed to know it.

Midway through the evening, an older guy sat with us for a while. He knew our dates, he had a bottle of strong rum, and he gave each of us a shot in our cokes. I might be 18, but I wasn't a drinker like a lot of high school seniors! A few sips of beer that I hated, and champagne at a wedding that made me sick, we about the extent of my drinking to that point.

Still, everyone else was drinking their 'Roman coke' so I did too, and got quite a buzz! Charlie, the old guy, asked me to dance, and he was as smooth on the dance floor as the guys in the 1950s movies, but I do believe he felt me up better in one dance than Jimmy had in a few dozen! I never got a chance to say 'no' or 'stop' because his hands were always moving from proper place to improper place and back, with a lot of squeezing and fondling before I could react. Like I say, he was smooth.

The man stopped by again later, while we were dancing to an Elvis rock song, and 'refreshed' our drinks. I smiled at him, he winked, and mouthed 'Later'.

That drink I didn't need, and all Jimmy's work and Charlie's rum went for naught soon after we left. We drove to Jerry's nearby house and were making out. My pants were unbuttoned and my shirt unsnapped, and I was lightheaded with desire - or rum. Then my lighthead started spinning faster and faster! I broke away, he tried to pull me back onto the couch, and the demon rum came up and out like a fire hose activated!

Jimmy turned me loose then, and tried to scramble away from my second upchuck, which sprayed onto his jeans and the cock I had been stroking. Stroking his cock was a first, puking on said cock was a first, and so was the explosive puking a few minutes later, in the kitchen sink. I was there because I could see it and I didn't know where the commode was, but the sink was practically full when I finally got to the dry heaves part of my penance.

My puking and whining and his cussing brought Pattie and Jerry out of the bedroom, with Jerry naked and my friend wrapped in a towel.

Jimmy cussed me, he cussed Jerry, and he cussed Pattie for setting this up, while trying to wash the puke off his shirt, pants, cock, and other body parts. Then Jerry cussed me for puking all over his mother's kitchen and in her sink!

I was afraid they'd make me walk home, but, after stuff stopped coming up when I heaved, Jerry finally had pity and took me home. By the time we got there I could stagger/walk and had stopped heaving, so Mom never knew. That was the first time I'd gotten drunk, and the closest I'd come to getting unclothed by a boy.

Since getting nearly naked and playing with his dick had as much to do with the booze as it did with Jimmy, he never got another chance either! Or, more truthfully, I couldn't trust either one of us to stop before I lost my virginity, so I said no up front, when he asked for a date.

Today, though, is different. I'm back with my boyfriend of three-plus years, and he has been working hard. He sent flowers to school, which caused a stir and a thousand questions I enjoyed answering about getting back together. Then, when he came to the house to get me for the prom, he put an Orchid corsage on one wrist, and then asked me to take off my watch. He replaced it with this fancy, diamond-encrusted, 14 carat gold watch, which looked amazing on my dainty wrist!

I almost creamed my panties right there, and he would have gotten lucky if he had a clue. But he didn't, and the night ended thirty minutes after the dance with a goodnight kiss on my doorstep.

That kind of treatment continued for two weeks, and today he invited me to come with him to 'the ranch,' their land over near Kovar in southeastern Bastrop County. For my own purposes, and because he'd asked me not to wear short shorts because of the effect on him, I wore fairly loose red short shorts with matching panties, a white boatneck blouse that exposed my belly button above the shorts, and a lacey white bra.

I can't say I set out to get fucked, but I did admit in confession on Wednesday that I was feeling passionate about my boyfriend, and asked that God help me do the right thing.

Therefore, whatever happens must be God's Will, and not me being a bad girl. Right?

I practically sat in his lap on the way to the ranch, and had my hand on his inner thigh. I kept if off the big hard lump along his other leg, but took his hand from around my shoulders and placed his right hand on my inner thigh, in hopes he would move it to my very wet pussy. He didn't, but he was so excited he missed the turn and had to go back to his gate. I laughed about that, but he was so embarrassed I told him anyone could do it. But I knew why he missed the turn.

We walked from the car to the cabin and went inside. 'Rustic' would be kind - it was an old, uninsulated wooden shell, without electricity - to my view, it was a shanty! But it was a cool day, he opened doors and windows, and I found a blanket in a closet, folded it double, and laid it on the floor. We sat down on it and started kissing; soon we were panting, and I laid down. That was the first time for that, and he was rather clumsy as he half-laid on me and half-held himself above me, acting as if I would break if he put any weight on me!

In a way, it was cute; he was even more clueless than me. But leading a boy toward fucking is hard when you're trying to play vestal virgin.

I kissed him hard, and we began kissing hungrily, with much more passion than before. His hand wandered across my bare stomach, in the space created between my top and shorts by my blouse riding up. His hand felt like a torch on my skin, and I wanted him!

I wanted him to be my first, before some cocksman like Jimmy got me a little drunk, took my cherry, and used me like his slut!

Teddy went slow, kissing me and stroking my stomach. I pulled his chest down over me, arched my back, and rubbed my titties against his chest. They might be small, but they are sensitive, and our contact went straight to my pussy - even through a padded bra!

I wondered when God was going to tell me to stop, that this is bad, but apparently my exploration was okay. Rejuvenated by the knowledge I wasn't going to hell for playing around, I pulled his hand to the button and zipper on my shorts, then placed my hand on the zipper of his jeans.

Those were the clearest hints I could offer without acting like a total slut, so I waited for him to unsnap me before I unsnapped him.

I had my tongue all the way down his throat and my fingernails were clawing him, lightly, to spur him on. Neither of us knew what we were doing at this point, but we had come this far so I was telling him, as best I knew how without speaking the words, that I wanted to recant my 'no sex until marriage' vow and do it, here and now!

For a big, strong, twenty-one year-old man, Teddy was extremely timid. I, on the other hand, was extremely determined to end my technical virginity. I say 'technical virginity' because my hymen was long gone, having fallen victim to the acrobatics of a twirler who liked to end her routine with a high baton toss, then catching it after having jumped up and come down in the splits.

For those not familiar with gymnastics, 'the splits' are when the legs are aligned with each other but facing in opposite directions. Of the two dozen cheerleaders and wanna-be cheerleaders, and the four twirlers and dozen wanna-be twirlers in our school, I was the only one who could do 'the splits' correctly.

It was a contortionist move requiring great flexibility, and it cost me hours of gymnastics training and practicing past the pain to achieve. It also cost me my 'cherry', meaning my hymen; and yes, I did bleed when it first broke. I was raised Roman Catholic, with parents of Eastern European ancestry, so giving your virginity to your husband on your honeymoon was supposedly a big thing.

I gave my hymen to my burning desire to twirl in front of a gym full of students and football stadiums full of students and adults while wearing my skimpy, skin-tight little golden uniform. I made the squad as a sophomore, having wowed the judges with my dance skills and acrobatic routine, ending in the splits. So, if my religious, Czech Brethren boyfriend ever got around to fingering my hot, wet, needy pussy, he wouldn't find the expected barrier - though there was a good chance he didn't even know I was supposed to have one! Boy was raised on a farm between NO and WHERE, and was totally ignorant of things like erogenous zones and basic female anatomy.

Still, he danced well, took me wherever I wanted to go, left me whatever souped up car he owned at the time to drive while he was in Houston working all week, and worshipped me. So, overall, he was a good boyfriend. But today I needed more than kissing; today I needed him to make me a woman, and I wasn't giving up because he was reluctant!

After all, I had God's blessing to do whatever he allowed me to do.

His hand was still resting on my snap, so I took the initiative and unsnapped his jeans, like Jimmy had taught me to do a few weeks ago. He still didn't make the move, so I unzipped his jeans, found his very substantial cock, and pulled it out of his boxers, like Jimmy had taught me to do. I had only seen my brother's and Jimmy's, and both looked like rockets with the module attached at the top; Teddy's didn't.

His big cock looked more like a bull's. The end was covered with skin that tapered for an inch or two. It kind of frightened me, and kind of delighted me; my fingers couldn't close around his cock, and both my hands side by side around it still didn't reach from the base to the head! I didn't' really know 'big cock' from 'little dickie' then, but I did know it was comparatively huge, based on my sample of two hard cocks!

Somehow, holding and looking at his cock set my insides afire, and caused him to whimper and whine like a little puppy. I used both hands to make that stroking movement Jimmy taught me, and his whimpers turned to gasps and cries. I smiled, internally, at least; with Jimmy I was the one under duress, being 'forced' to do what I wanted to do but didn't because good girls don't. But today, deep in the country, he was under duress and I was the aggressor.

I kind of liked this! Though he was three years older, I was always the dominant one in our relationship anyway, and holding his cock in my hand was thrilling. It also made me feel dirty and nasty, like a bad girl. And curious. Jimmy's dick, as he called it, was much thinner than Teddy's, and stroking it from head to base was something like 5-6 inches. Teddy's was at least 3-4 inches longer, and bigger around than a salami roll!

After my encounter with Jimmy, I examined my feelings and let my fingers explore where he had. I was a virgin, but I could see his dick sliding inside me without much pain, if any. Teddy's, though, looked like it belonged in a cow's cunt! I doubted it would fit in my tight little pussy, but I was certainly willing to try.

Jimmy's dick leaked profusely while I stroked it, as did Teddy's, and I discovered I could pull the tapered skin back and expose the rocket module atop his, just as it was atop Jimmy's. But bigger - much bigger - and harder, and more imposing.

Teddy was frozen in place; he wasn't taking advantage of the opportunity I offered to explore my pretty little pussy, and it wanted to be stroked too! So I took one hand off of his cock, unfasted the button, unzipped the zipper, took his wrist, and forced his hand under my panties and onto my hairy, wet mons. His whimpers and cries turned to moans and groans, but his fingers still didn't enter me, or stroke that little button that made me whimper when I did.

I grabbed his hair, pulled his face back to mine, and tongue-fucked his mouth. Then I tried to pull him on top of me, but he resisted. Frustrated, I pulled away and asked what was wrong.

"This is!" he cried, "I can't look at you and kiss you thinking what I'm thinking!"

I wanted to laugh; here we are, his virginal little girlfriend doing everything but raping him, and he's worried about looking me in the face. Laughing would have killed him, so I decided to try something a somewhat slutty girlfriend had told me about.

"It's okay - we won't do it today, but" I brightly proposed, "we are going to play around a little! I'll hold my legs together, you slide your big thing in the wetness between them, up against my little pussy, and we can practice what we'll be doing when we get married, without you actually entering me!"

He looked doubtful. "Cathy, I can't look at your face and do that! You are the perfect girl, and I want you for my wife, and 'playing around' like that seems wrong."

I sighed and fired my last shot. "Don't you want to please me? This is what I want to do today, something I've never done with any boy. Don't you want to be my first?"

He looked both guilty and angry, as if the very idea of us not being virgins on our wedding day was a mortal sin condemning us to hell eternal! And then his words came back to me, and I implemented a devious plan that would soon backfire... literally.

I turned on my side, facing away from him, and pulled my jeans down to my knees. "Okay, let's do it this way. You put your thing between my legs and slide it up and down. That way we'll get to practice for our honeymoon without actually doing it!"

Looking over my shoulder, his face was a picture of conflict; he so badly wanted to, but it was wrong!

So I reached down, grabbed his big cock at the base, and slid back until the head was in the swamp between my legs. Then I 'fucked him' until he gave in and took over.

Suddenly he was wild and frantic, holding my hips in an iron grasp and slamming his cock through the slippery juices that had crept down my thighs. The copious juices from his big cock added to mine, and I began going as crazy as my boyfriend!

His big cock slid from between my ass cheeks to between my legs, and made me whimper and cry when it passed over the little button on the front of my pristine pussy.

Neither of us was going to last long: his movements were as frantic as mine, and I knew I was about to have the kind of climax my slutty girlfriends talked about! It felt too good to describe, and Teddy had lost the ability to speak; all he could do was hump me frantically and speak in tongues, so to speak.

And then his grip on my hips tightened and he began pummeling my legs like my slutty girlfriends described their men doing to their pussies. At that moment I decided I wanted him inside me, so I arched my back a little to let it slip in rather than pass over my pussy. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment when he reached climax. He held my hips tightly, slammed his big cock forward and it slipped into the depths of my chamber... my back chamber!

The pain took a minute to reach my brain, and by then I could feel great gobs of cums emptying into my bowels! It hurt like hell, but the feel of the hot cum throbbing into my bowels gave me my first sex caused climax!

And then the pain of his huge cock slamming into my tight virgin asshole hit me, and I screamed. Oh, I was still cumming around his big cock, but my voice was loudly describing the pain of a humongous cock in my tiny little butthole, not the thrill of hot cum in my bowels.

He pulled his cock out as fast as he could and immediately began apologizing in the sincerest way. I lay on my side, whimpering now, and felt stuff running out of my butthole. I pulled my cheeks apart and tried to see it but couldn't; but Teddy could, and he was appalled! He ran to the bathroom and returned with a roll of toilet paper so I could wipe myself.

I did, and found a bloody, greasy, shitty, cummy mess. I tossed that mess aside and used more tissue, tossed that, and used more. He helped me up, helped me to the toilet with my pants still around my knees, and waited while I shit my insides out, trying to get the slimy stuff to stop slipping out.

At some point I stopped leaking, but by then Teddy had suffered irreparable damage to his psyche, and we never came close to having any kind of sex again.

I graduated from high school a few weeks thereafter, started at a nearby junior college in the fall, and discovered my boyfriend was boring. I liked having his car to drive, a boyfriend to take me to dances and parties and movies, and his worshipfulness - in HIGH SCHOOL. But college offered a great variety of hunky males who wanted to date me, and Teddy wasn't up to meeting the challenge.

We broke up again, and I began dating guys from all over the area. My parents - especially my mother - weren't happy about our breakup. In Mom's mind, I should marry him because we've been going together so long. Dad supported my desire to get a college degree, though, and we outvoted her. In return, she instituted a requirement that any boy that wanted to date me had to come meet them - her - first.

That caused some but not many problems for me, as it seemed most boys thought I was worth the hassle.

Did any of the dozen I dated that year get my cherry? No, but I learned a lot about making out, getting fingered, cock sizes, and how far cum could shoot. Still, when I transferred to Southwest Texas State College, formerly Southwest Texas State Teacher's College, home of LBJ, I was technically a vaginal virgin. But, strangely enough, not an anal virgin! Damn that cabin floor anyway!