Touching Teresa (Hayride #1)

I have good memories of a church hayride in late fall. Because of the cold, there was plenty of room in the hay, and the adults stayed inside the truck. A girl named Teresa invited me. She was two years behind me in high school. I later learned that her friend, Lois, had told her to call me. To this day, I still like the name Lois.

I was a nerd, and I guess Teresa was too, though I thought she was pretty. She was short, had long brown hair, and a round face with shinning brown eyes. She was smart and quiet.

When the old flatbed diesel truck fired up, we all dove under heavy wool army blankets that smelled of cedar. Once we began, we were thankful for the wood plank railings that swayed at our backs. As Teresa and I looked around from under our blanked, we noticed several couples kissing. I saw her looking at me in the dim dome light from the truck. Our lips met, and she pulled the blanket over our heads.

I had only given a few pecks to girls. This was very different. Her lips parted as if asking me to touch her tongue with mine. We were very warm under that blanket. My fingers searched her face, feeling her smoothness then smoothing her hair.

I felt her stiffening as my fingers dropped to her breasts and cupped them. They seemed larger than I’d expected, and I could almost feel the bump of a nipple through her shirt. Her shirt was untucked and it only made sense to explore underneath. Her stomach was soft and warm with a couple of small folds in her skin. Her bra slid easily above her breasts and my hand cupped her as our kissing continued. She seemed to relax, but there was more this eleventh-grade boy wanted to touch for the first time.

This was all like a slow motion movie. We knew we had three hours, so slow was the right pace as I moved with care.

Teresa wore blue jeans and my hand slid softly down between her legs. Again, she seemed to stiffen for a moment, but she never pushed away and her kisses continued. Even though thick cotton separated my hand from her pussy, just knowing I was so close made me very hard. I mustered up some courage and began to slip my fingers under her waistband. It was a tight fit down her jeans, but my fingers managed to reach her soft virgin pubic hair.

Just as I was fantasizing on seeing those hairs, I felt her hand on my firmness. Teresa began to rub softly with her palm. After a few minutes of this, I unsnapped and pulled my jeans down to my knees. She never moved her hand, but kept rubbing my bare cock with her palm for a few seconds before curling her cool fingers around me. I put my hand on hers and began to move it up and back. She took my pace and continued.

This is when it hit me that I’d never really kissed a girl before tonight and now I was on my back getting a handjob from the cutest nerd in my high school.

Teresa seemed to like it when I moaned a little and she got faster. Her hand pointed me straight up as she stroked. I’d never been so hard. Finally, I turned away from her and pressed my back against her breasts as she continued pumping. I knew the hay would be a good place to deposit my semen rather than making a mess of our clothes.

I felt warm puffs of air from Teresa’s nose as she kissed the back of my neck. I imagined myself inside of her and my hips began to thrust harder as the mounting sensation became more intense. Teresa matched my rhythm with her hand. Then, I felt the tip of the roller coaster and a downhill spiral of no return. I was immersed in the tugging of Teresa’s hand, surrounded by the warmth of her body. The tingling in my spine began to erupt, flowing down through my center as as streams of syrupy cum shot into the hay. I moaned in unison with the roar of the noisy truck. Then, I felt a stillness inside. I rolled we rolled back to face Teresa and we kissed. Finally, my quiet new friend said, “Did you like it?”

I said, “God, yes!” and she smiled.

“Tonight was the first time I’ve touched a boy like I did with you.”

“We’ll have to be sure that happens again,” I said.

She laughed and we kissed our way through the rest of the evening under that cedar-smelling wool blanket.