First Grade

I have loved her since the first grade.

Jean, the beautiful brown haired girl who lived across the street from our school, was my first love. In fact, she is my only love.

We never really dated in school. Oh, we talked some and we hung out a little. But she always had boys interested in her and I was always afraid to ask. But I worshipped her from afar. Her brown eyes and soft, angelic voice never ceased to arouse me. To me, she was perfect.

After high school, we went our separate ways.  That was the way it was before email and Facebook. You tended to lose track of people. We both went to college, got jobs and had our hearts broken more than once. But I never forgot about the beautiful, brown-haired girl.

I was thinking about that the other night as I was laying on top of the bed. I smiled at the thought of her. My wife, who was came walking into the bedroom, saw the smile and said, “So what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I replied, looking at her. “Just thinking about you.”

My wife is Jean, that beautiful, brown-haired girl from the first grade.

Jean flashed the smile that stirs my heart every time. “I like when you do that.”

I grinned at her. “So do I.”

We have been married 25 years. Three children — a daughter and two sons. Two gainfully employed. One in college. First grandchild on the way.

Who would have guessed all of that one sunny summer’s day years earlier? I was back in my hometown for a weekend.  She had moved back to town. I saw her at a store. We picked up our friendship like we had never left it. I finally worked up the courage to ask her for date. She said yes. Eighteen months later, we were married.

Being married to Jean has been the greatest of all blessings. Oh sure, we have had our good times and bad times, our happy times and our sad times. That is part of a marriage. But we have laughed, cried, celebrated, prayed, and danced through life. Together.

I was thinking about all this as I watched her.  She is still beautiful. Her hair light brown that almost reaches her shoulders . Her eyes dark brown. Her voice angelic.

Knowing that I was watching, Jean began to prepare for bed. She did it slowly. With great purpose.

First came the necklace.  Then the shoes followed by the socks. Facing the dresser mirror, watching me watch her, she slowly began to unbutton her cream-colored shirt. Each button undone carefully. Finally, she separated the sides of the blouse with her hands, pulling the shirt off her shoulders, down her arms and into her hands. She dropped the shirt on a chair.

What was left was a tan colored bra. Jean reached her hands behind her back and unhooked the clasp. She pulled the bra away from in front of her, revealing her beautiful breasts. Her light brown nipples looked at me through the mirror’s reflection.

Jean smiled as she noticed that I had begun to rub the bulge in my pants.

Next came her jeans. I saw her unsnap her jeans and heard the zipper be pulled downwards. Using her hands again, Jean wiggled the jeans off her hips, down her legs and stepped out of them. There she should stood in light colored underwear.

Still looking at the mirror looking at me, Jean flashed a smile. “I suppose the underwear goes too, huh?” she said softly in that angelic voice.

“If you don’t mind,” said I, stroking myself through my pants.

Jean smiled again. She turned towards the bed, looked at me and with both hands, quickly pushed the underwear down her legs and away. There she stood, beautiful as always, a birthmark near her navel and light brown hair covering her private entrance.

“You are so beautiful,” I said softly. “You haven’t changed since our wedding night.”

Jean lightly laughed as she gracefully walked towards the other side of the bed. “I don’t know about that. It was a long time and three kids ago, but thank you.”

I rolled off the bed and quickly discarded my clothes.  I stood there fully erect.

Jean pulled back the covers, climbed into bed and slid over to my side the bed where I still stood. Reaching up, she softly touched my ramrod straight penis and looking up at me with those beautiful brown eyes said, “Come to bed, my love.”

I joined her. We became one, our arms and legs intertwined. We faced each other. I could smell her perfume. I put one hand on the side of her face.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I whispered. “How I have loved you since the first day I met you in first grade?”

Jean smiled, her soft brown eyes looking into mine and directly into my soul. “Once or twice,” she said. “But I never get tired of hearing it and I never get tired of you showing me.”

With that we brought our lips together and softly kissed. Then with more urgency as our tongues and hands explored familiar places that have never lost their allure.

Our lovemaking, thankfully, has always been passionate. At times, it is more soft and sensual. This was one of those times.

I rolled onto my back as Jean tossed her left leg over mine. Our kissing continued as we lost ourselves in each other.  I ran the fingers of my left hand up and down her spine. I cupped one of her breasts in my other hand, rolling the nipple through my fingers. Between kisses, I could hear her softly moan.

Meanwhile, I gasped as Jean placed the palm of her hand on the top of my member, grasped it and slowly made her way up and down the shaft.

“You are so good at that,” as I broke our kiss, whispering in her ear.

Jean giggled. “You have always been willing to let me practice,” she whispered back.

We resumed kissing. Now I placed Jean on her back, my head lowering to kiss both breasts. I could feel her hands played with the hair on my head as I used my tongue to suck each nipple. I softly blew warm air on each one to make then even more erect.

As that happened on top, one hand drifted down Jean’s stomach and caressed her thighs. I eventually moved to her center, where my fingers began to probe the outside layers of her entrance. Jean moaned as my fingers slid up and down her opening, teasing her, heightening the anticipation. Finally one, then two fingers slipped inside. Jean moaned louder as I started to move inside her in rhythm. Her private scent filled the air.

As my hands and mouth worked in unison to pleasure my beloved, Jean grabbed my penis and began to use rapid strokes. Finally, Jean broke away, pulled me back up to her and we kissed. Passionately and slowly.

Jean stopped, looked up at me and said in that angelic voice, “Please. I need you now.”

I kissed her, whispered “I love you so much” and settled myself between her legs on my knees. As I moved to her entrance, I took Jean’s hand and placed it on my penis. “Please do the honors,” I said. Jean smiled, shifted her weight, arched her back and slowly guided me into her. We both gasped as I moved fully into her love chamber.

We made love not only with parts of our bodies, but with our eyes. We watched each other as I slowly started to move back and forth. She hooked her legs around mine so I would not slip out of her. As she raised the palm of her hand to the side of my face. I kissed it. Then I move to her lips, kissing her again.

Faster and faster I moved. Her moans increased. She placed her hands on my rear end, pushing me deeper and deeper inside her. She arched her neck, giving me another area to kiss.

As I keep pushing forward,  I heard the slap of my penis on her entrance. Jean grabbed my neck with both hands and whispered, “Please, my love, hurry.”

I could feel Jean’s body tense up and letting go of my neck, she grabbed my arms and raised her head off the bed. She grasped as she was overcome by her orgasm. Feeling her reach that point was too much for me. I felt the surge rush up my legs, into my penis and finally into Jean. “I love you; oh, how much I love you,” I whispered as my stream drained into her.

Eventually we both returned to reality. Her still looking at me, as radiant as when we started. I kissed her softly and stroked her face. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to love you,” I said. Jean smiled that beautiful smile.

We finished the night with her in my arms and me stroking her hair. As I drifted off to sleep, I ended the night as I had started it, thinking again about that beautiful brown haired girl in the first grade.

What a blessed man am I.











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