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The Perseid meteor shower happens every summer from mid-July to mid-August. At its peak you can see as many as 60 shooting stars per hour between midnight and dawn, especially in rural areas of north America where light pollution doesn’t wash away the dark.
The meteorites are actually small dust particles left behind from the tail of the Swift-Tuttle Comet which comes around about every 133 years. The shower is called the Perseid because the meteorites look like they are coming out of the constellation Perseus, the Greek god known for his proficiency at killing monsters.
Seeing a shooting star every 60 seconds in one evening is pretty awesome so, when Charlie and I said we were going to watch the meteor shower, my Grandparents didn’t think anything of it. We had already filled our two backpacks with a blanket, a bottle of Grandpa’s homemade Concord grape wine, some swiss cheese and crackers, a Hershey’s Special dark chocolate bar, a bottle of spring water, and a couple of jelly glasses. We threw in some Raid for the mosquitos and headed out to the north pasture where the only light came from the stars and the moon.
Until that summer, I had never heard of the Perseid.
I was a 20-year-old virgin, and it was the summer between my sophomore and junior years in the local college where I was majoring in American Lit and creative writing. My grandparents were getting too old to manage all the work required by their little farm so they offered to pay for a semester of my tuition if I would spend the summer with them helping with chores and whatever required heavy lifting.
Mostly that amounted to days of boredom, working on my tan and reading, occasionally interrupted by hours of back breaking labor. Grandpa had an old John Deere tractor with an eight row planter but he was too old to lift the bags of seed corn and empty them into the planter, so I would walk behind him as he planted corn, picking up sticks and rocks and tossing them in a basket on the back of the tractor and about every five or six passes, he would pull up to an old wagon filled with bags of seed corn and I would refill the planter. In June I would walk up and down the rows of corn or soybean seedlings, hoeing the previous year’s corn seedlings out of the beans and the bean seedlings out of the corn and the monster ragweed and thistle out of everything.
In July I helped grandma with her nearly planet size garden, hoeing, weeding, picking and sitting on the front porch, breaking mountains of string beans. In my spare time, I read or fished for blue gill and catfish in the farm ponds. Sometimes I plunked around with Grandpa’s old .22 single shot rifle. Grandma showed me how to cook that summer: fried eggs, fried chicken, fried okra, fried catfish. If you see a pattern, here, it’s because my Grandma believed that there was no food so good that it couldn’t be improved by frying it in lard.
On 4th of July there was a big celebration in town and it was there that I met Charlie. Her real name was Cheryl but everyone called her Charlie because she was something of a tomboy, full of piss and vinegar, and able to do anything a man could do – rope, ride, and shoot as good as any man, Grandma would say. Don’t even try to hit her fast ball, Grandpa would say.
As for me, all I saw when I looked at her was a tall, athletically built, freckle faced, redhead with hair down to the middle of her back, big but not monstrous breasts, and a mischievous, toothy grin that would melt your heart like butter in a blast furnace. She was a year older than me and her farm was next door to my grandparents’ farm and five times bigger. When I say, next door I mean, only a half mile down the road, or a third of a mile across the pasture, around the cornfield, and through the woods.
She was a biz-ag (business agriculture) major at the big state university and she intended to take over the family farm when her parents decided to retire which, according to her, they couldn’t wait to do as they had never had a vacation in their entire married life and they wanted, desperately, to see Florida.
From the moment my Grandma introduced me to Charlie, I was head over heels, in love. Just like in the movies with little birds flying around my head and everything. Not only was she beautiful and sassy and independent, she also liked the same movies, music, and books I did.
We hung out a lot together that summer, going to the Methodist church with her family and my grandparents and the Catholic church festival, fishing, exploring, riding horseback (her family owned a stable), talking about our hopes and dreams and the meaning of life, and going to those big raves that her friends, other farm kids in the area, would throw out in the middle of some pasture. Word would go out and people would show up with their tents and sleeping bags and coolers, boom boxes, and bags of weed. There would be a bonfire and lots of drinking and toking and dancing and necking and, well, who knew what went on in those tents. She would tell her parents and I would tell my grandparents that we were going to a campout, which wasn’t, Alanya Escort escort technically, a lie, and off we’d go.
Each time we went to one of those shindigs, I’d be filled with fantasies of losing my virginity. I don’t know what Charlie was thinking about but it wasn’t me losing my virginity.
Mostly, at those raves, our tent was filled with lots of making out and above-the-waist-outside-the-clothes groping. It was fun and hot but it was the cause of many a case of blue balls for this boy. Beyond that, my sexual experience that summer amounted to a whole lot of reading about sex, a whole lot of sexual fantasies, and a deep and intimate relationship with my right hand. No matter how often I tried to move things along, Charlie insisted that she wasn’t ready to “go there again.”
She had been in a long-term relationship with a guy she dated in high school, she said. He was her first and only and, after she had sex with him, he treated her badly, telling his friends about it, all of whom branded her a slut in the school and community. So, she was being really careful about sex. I was raised to be a gentleman so, one, I wanted to beat the crap out of the guy who treated her badly and, two, I honored her wishes and didn’t pressure her. Also, I was madly in love with her and I couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting her and I definitely did not want to be one of those guys.
When we went fishing, together, it was our habit to bring along something to read. She usually brought a romance novel and I would bring a paperback crime novel as it was my life’s ambition to be a writer of crime fiction, the next Ed McBain, Robert B. Parker, or Elmore Leonard. One week in late July, however, I had read through the books I’d checked out of the Carnegie library in town and Grandma wasn’t going back to town again until Saturday. So, I snatched up Grandpa’s dogeared copy of the Farmer’s Almanac and tossed it into my backpack.
A couple of hours later we were sitting on a blanket in the shade, fishing deadline in a creek that ran through the two farms. We had eaten our lunch and were feeling lazy in the heat, reading and dozing, not caring whether we caught any fish or not and I stumbled across an article in the Almanac about the Perseid meteor shower.
It said that viewing would be best, if clouds allowed, the following week and that our location in the state would be one of the best viewing areas. “As many as ninety shooting stars an hour will be visible,” the article said. I read it to Charlie and she said it sounded cool. Our north pasture sat on top of a hill, she said, and would be a perfect place for viewing what promised to be an awesome astral phenomenon.
So, we made a pact. Sunday night, we would hike up to the North Pasture with a blanket and some food and wine and a big can of mosquito repellant and watch one of the greatest shows that nature has ever put on – or, at least, that’s what the Farmer’s Almanac claimed.
It being August, we were both dressed in cut-off’s and white t-shirts but hers were better than mine. Her cutoff jean shorts were loose and hot-pants short and showed off her ass to perfection. Round and hard with the bottoms of her butt cheeks peeking out of the legs. Her t-shirt was perfectly white and thin as tissue and the bra she wore beneath it was lacy and thin, as well. My cutoffs were, well, blue. And my t-shirt was white. That’s about all I can say about them. I made up for my sorry clothes, however, hair bleached white in the sun and a body that was deeply tanned and well-muscled, from the farm work I’d done all summer.
The meteor shower was, as advertised, spectacular, but when you’re a horny, twenty-year-old virgin you can watch the stars for only an hour or so before you get bored. About midnight, I yawned. We were laying on our backs, and Charlie rolled over so her nose was about an inch from mine. She put her hand on my chest and said, “Yeah, me, too.”
She kissed me and moaned like she had been wanting to do that all night and was just now finding the opportunity. I moaned becaue we were finally doing something more interesting than watching those goddamn stars.
We kissed like that for several minutes and then she rolled back on her back and we switched positions with me now beside her. I leaned down and kissed her and she reached up and put her hands on the back of my neck and pulled me closer to her, her tongue sliding in and out of my mouth, searching for mine. I accommodated her search by tongue kissing her in return and we continued until both our chins were sloppy wet.
My right arm was under her head but my left hand was free so I placed it on her breast and gave it a gentle squeeze as I had a hundred times before only this time, as my hand got more insistent, she didn’t stop me as she had before. Instead, she sat up, abruptly and my heart began to sink but, much to my surprise, she pulled her t-shirt off, leaned over to me, and kissed me again and said, softly, “take my bra off.”
I already had an erection from all the making out but, with those words, it Alanya Escort bayan turned to concrete. She leaned into me and began to French kiss me again and I reached behind her and unhooked her bra and freed her breasts.
Now, this was only the third time I had seen naked breasts live and in person so I took the opportunity to look hers over and, let me say this – they were magnificent.
As I said, earlier, they were large and they drooped a little, which I found amazingly sexy. Here areola were, I guess what you’d call, average but her nipples were spectacular, like small thimbles, sticking out and begging to be sucked, which I did.
I pushed her back down on the blanket and I sucked her left breast while my left hand played with her right breast. Then I switched breasts for awhile and then switched back again, all while she moaned and rocked back and forth.
I gently nibbled on her nipples and she cried out, making me think I had done it to hard but, when I stopped, she said, “No, don’t stop. Keep doing that.” So, I did.
As I continued to play with her breasts she reached down and unzipped my fly, reached into my cutoffs and my boxers and found my rock hard penis and began to slowly stroke it, all this as we continued to French kiss each other with reckless abandon.
After our advanced make out session went on for a while I decided to test and see just how far this thing was going to go. Did she finally trust me enough to have sex with me?
I reached down and unzipped her cutoffs and spread them open to discover that she wasn’t wearing panties and just as that was dawning on me, she spread her legs and welcomed my hand into her bare nether region. She was, I discovered, shaved smooth as talc and wet as a spring dew.
My fingers quickly discovered her labia, which I parted and fumbled around until I found her clitoris. I didn’t need to add any lube as her pussy was self-lubricating like a lube factory. I rubbed her clit, softly at first, then more rapidly as she responded, pumping her hips up and down. I sucked her breasts, harder and harder as I increased the pace of my fingers and, after a couple of minutes, she came, thrusting her hips high in the air and grunting and groaning from the back of her throat.
She put her hands over mine and held my hand, tightly on her pussy, and locked it there by closing her legs. She looked me in the eyes and said, in a husky voice, “Kiss me. Kiss me hard.” Which I did, with pleasure, licking her lips, teeth, and, finally, her tongue with my own.
After she came down from the orgasm, she pushed me back onto my back and kissed me again, and put her hand back down my shorts. After some gentle massaging of my cock, she put her head on my chest and sucked on my nipple as she reached further into my shorts and fondled my testicles.
Finally, she reached up, gave me a peck on the lips, grinned that marvelous grin, and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And with that, she slid down my body and pulled my pants down to my knees, leaving me high, hard, and naked to the night. After she got my pants off, she laid back, raised her hips and took hers off as well while I sat up and quickly disposed of my t-shirts. Neither of us were wearing socks so we just kicked our sneakers off, into the grass. Now, we were both totally nude.
We were both too turned on to worry about mosquitos. All I could think about was her hand on my cock, if you could call that thinking. I was simply luxuriating in the wonder physical sensations which now multiplied by ten as she leaned over and took my erection into her mouth. She sucked and bobbed her head up and down and accompanied its movements with her hand, occasionally moving it down to caress my balls.
Well, as I said, I was a virgin and, even though I had much experience with my own hand, I had none with the hands or mouth of a beautiful girl who really seemed to enjoy what she was doing, so it didn’t take long and I blasted off into her mouth.
Oh, hell! I had read enough to know that a gentleman at least warned a lady when he was going to cum but it happened so quickly and so intensely that I honestly didn’t have time. I felt the ejaculation building and the next thing I knew I was shooting these massive explosions into her mouth. I thought she’d be pissed at me but, much to my surprise, she wasn’t.
She just giggled and continued to fuck me with her mouth. I could feel her throat and tongue moving as she swallowed and milked every drop of semen out of my cock. When I stopped pumping, she moved back up my body with her magnificent boobs coming to rest on my chest. I could see well enough in the dark to see a couple of drops of sperm on the corner of her mouth and, being a gentleman, I kissed her deeply and licked them away.
She kissed me back and we lay like that for a while. I watched the stars fall out of the sky and stoked her back and butt and kissed the top of her head. Finally, she raised her head up and put her hand on her fist.
“Kyle,” she said. “I really like what we’ve got, here. I mean, we love Escort alanya each other. I don’t know if we’re in love or not but I know we really do love and trust each other. And I’d like to give you a gift for all that you’ve given me this summer. I trust you. Do you trust me enough to be your first? Do you trust me enough to give me the gift of your virginity? If you do and you give me that gift I will give you a gift in return that I think you will carry with you for the rest of your life.”
Okay, first, let me just say that she may not have known if we were in love with each other but I knew that I was madly, deeply, hopelessly in love with her whether she was or ever would be with me. And I knew that we really did love each other in some other way that’s hard to define – a way that meant we cared for each other and would be there for each other to protect and hold and help each other any time, night or day.
And I knew that her trusting me was code for “I want to have sex with you.” And, did I trust her enough to give her my virginity? Oh, hell, yes! I trusted her with my life so I sure as hell trusted her with my virginity.
I somehow managed to package all those feelings into a nod of my head and a spoken, “Yes,” and a tender kiss on the lips.
“I brought some condoms in my backpack,” she said. “But since you’re a virgin and I haven’t had sex in four years and then only with that one prick of a guy, and I’m taking birth control, I’m willing to go without using them. Is that okay with you?”
I could hardly breath, much less talk. “Sure,” was all I was able to croak out.
We kissed again and I rolled over, putting her on her back and started to roll on top of her but she stopped me. “No,” she said. “Let me lead you through it. I want to do it so you remember your first time happily and forever.
She pushed me back onto my back and draped herself over my abdomen, stroking, licking, and sucking on my dick, fondling my balls, reaching her hand down to my perineum and further to my anis, stroking it and teasing it with the pad of her finger, pushing into it my butthole just a little bit and rubbing in and out.
After a while she crawled back up and laid down on top of me, straddled me and slid down, impaling herself on my erection. I nearly fainted from the ecstasy of that feeling, her warm wet flesh, surrounding and engulfing me. Then she began to move, slowly up and down, dragging her nipples across my chest, leaning in and kissing me as she moved.
She raised up and continued to pump up and down on my cock. The view was magnificent and I reached up to fondle her breasts but she beat me to it, taking a breast in each of her hands and lifting them up, cupping them and then squeezing on her nipples as she rode me. She whimpered and moaned and, as she went faster, she leaned forward an put her hands on my shoulders.
I was about a tenth of a second from orgasm and she abruptly stopped and froze. “Nuh-uh,” she said. “Not yet, lover boy. This is called edging. I take you right up to the edge and then stop before you cum. Then we start over in another position.” She giggled and rolled off of me and got on all fours, head down and ass up.
“Get behind me and fuck me doggy style,” she said. “I want you to start slow but then build up so you’re really slamming your cock into me, hard.” I got on my knees and maneuvered to where I was behind her, looking at her perfect butt, her little butthole puckered like it was ready to kiss me. She reached between her legs and massaged her pussy, running first one and then, two fingers in and out of it.
I knee-walked up to her and gradually slid my erection into her wet pussy and began to pump, slowly, in and out. “Oh, God, yes,” she said. “Just like that. Now harder.”
I began moving faster and that lasted a few minutes but she wasn’t satisfied. “Harder,” she said. “Deeper.”
I tried but Little Kyle wasn’t up to going any deeper than that. I tried faster and that seemed to satisfy here for a few minutes but then she had another request.
“Okay, slow down a little. Now, I want you to keep thrusting and, while you do, I want you to put some saliva on my asshole and rub it in with your finger, okay?”
“Okay,” I said as I pumped away. I let a long gob of drool slip off my tongue and land in her butt crack and run down to her butthole. I smeared it around and massaged it into her with my index finger.
“Now, keep fucking me and stick your finger up my ass. Oh, yeah, good. Slow, just like that. Yeah. Okay now I want you to move it in and out just like your cock is moving in and out of my pussy, at the same time. Go.”
I went. I fucked her with my dick and with my finger at the same time. And she began to rock back and forth meeting my thrusts and moaning louder and louder and I suddenly awoke to reality, realizing that I was about to cum. I tightened every muscle in my body to try to hold it back and, suddenly, I felt her vagina and rectum squeezing my cock and my finger as she screamed that she was coming and, with that, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I came like a 30.06 rifle burying my cock into her pussy and my finger into her ass as deeply as they would go. The spasms, hers and mine, seemed to go on forever and we finally collapsed in a heap with me on top. I rolled off and we lay, facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes.
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