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My first love story comes from the third grade. I know, I know...that's too young for REAL love, but hear me out. Like most kids, I'd had my fair share of interpersonal playground development skills. Perhaps more than most. The typical, "let's play doctor" or "house" which moved on to more serious long term hand holding and the lightning quick smooches that happen in the blink of an eye.
We moved and I started a new school my third grade year. It was a smaller school and I guess being new and shiny brought me some good luck when it came to attention from the opposite sex. All of a sudden boyfriend/girlfriend status became super important, and for whatever reason, it was completely acceptable for multiple girls to "date" the same boy at one time. Dating duties mostly involved recess time and holding hands with said girls in a string on either side. It was a "pimping lifestyle" that was going to be short lived, but who knows these things at that age? At any rate, girls and boys traded who they were dating on a weekly basis, sometimes daily. Easy come, easy go. It was mostly harmless "make believe" fun happening under the watchful supervision of adult teachers and student aides from the upper classes. What I didn't know was that it was laying the foundation of things to come.
Fast forward to the last day of school. This was before internet, virtually every phone call was long distance, and 99% of your friends lived too far away to ride your bike to see. So it was literally going to be the LAST time you saw them (or talked to them) until next school year. The student aide for our class had even dressed up for the last day of school in her cheerleader outfit. She was from the "jr high" so she was in the 7th or 8th grade. Yes, this is where this is going. It was last recess and I had bid a fond farewell to my small harem and let them know I couldn't wait to see them until next year. Since it was last recess and hot as balls, I stopped by the student aide at the school door and let her know I was going inside to hit the water fountain. She said "I'll go with you."
If I'd only known what was about to happen, I would have paid closer attention. She made small chit chat with me while we walked down the empty hallway to the fountain. "Last day of school", summer plans, blah, blah, blah. I got my drink and as I straightened up, she commented on what a "cute boy" I was. Of course I was...I was only in the third grade. All little kids are cute, right? That's when she asked if she could give me a "goodbye kiss". It seemed a little unusual, but I'd just kissed a dozen girls on the playground, so what's one more right? That's when our eyes locked and I knew "something" was up. I suddenly became aware that she was no longer a mere "girl" that watches us on the playground. I suddenly noticed she had curves, and wonderful bare legs beneath her short skirt, and she smelled...wonderful! Although I was always tall for my age, she obviously had to lean in AND down to kiss me. My young brain was still anticipating a lighting fast peck on the lips. But it wasn't. It was slow and soft, and warm. Her lips actually continued to move on mine and this was nothing like the playground kisses. Nothing. My brain began to try and process what was happening. What candy has she been eating? Is that strawberry or cherry? Perhaps both? It tastes great. Do all girls taste like this? Was that her tongue or does she have a magic third lip? By the time it was over, I stood there...my arms numb and limp and legs weak. A deer in headlights. She was talking to me now, but I couldn't hear what she way saying. I tried to muster the right words to convey how I felt, but settled with something along the lines of "cya next year!" The bell rang, and I watched as she skipped happily down the hallway, her short cheerleader skirt bouncing and swishing...revealing the matching cheer "shorts" underneath. That was almost 50yrs ago and I still remember it vividly to this day.
Maybe it was just a crush, maybe it was love, maybe it is what "types" and fetishes are born out of. 95% of the girls/women from that point forward were older than me. Right up to and including the wife of 30+ yrs. And I will probably never quit trying to get them to put on a cheerleader outfit! (Although I learned later in life that I appreciated "flag girls" more.)
So what's YOUR story?
We moved and I started a new school my third grade year. It was a smaller school and I guess being new and shiny brought me some good luck when it came to attention from the opposite sex. All of a sudden boyfriend/girlfriend status became super important, and for whatever reason, it was completely acceptable for multiple girls to "date" the same boy at one time. Dating duties mostly involved recess time and holding hands with said girls in a string on either side. It was a "pimping lifestyle" that was going to be short lived, but who knows these things at that age? At any rate, girls and boys traded who they were dating on a weekly basis, sometimes daily. Easy come, easy go. It was mostly harmless "make believe" fun happening under the watchful supervision of adult teachers and student aides from the upper classes. What I didn't know was that it was laying the foundation of things to come.
Fast forward to the last day of school. This was before internet, virtually every phone call was long distance, and 99% of your friends lived too far away to ride your bike to see. So it was literally going to be the LAST time you saw them (or talked to them) until next school year. The student aide for our class had even dressed up for the last day of school in her cheerleader outfit. She was from the "jr high" so she was in the 7th or 8th grade. Yes, this is where this is going. It was last recess and I had bid a fond farewell to my small harem and let them know I couldn't wait to see them until next year. Since it was last recess and hot as balls, I stopped by the student aide at the school door and let her know I was going inside to hit the water fountain. She said "I'll go with you."
If I'd only known what was about to happen, I would have paid closer attention. She made small chit chat with me while we walked down the empty hallway to the fountain. "Last day of school", summer plans, blah, blah, blah. I got my drink and as I straightened up, she commented on what a "cute boy" I was. Of course I was...I was only in the third grade. All little kids are cute, right? That's when she asked if she could give me a "goodbye kiss". It seemed a little unusual, but I'd just kissed a dozen girls on the playground, so what's one more right? That's when our eyes locked and I knew "something" was up. I suddenly became aware that she was no longer a mere "girl" that watches us on the playground. I suddenly noticed she had curves, and wonderful bare legs beneath her short skirt, and she smelled...wonderful! Although I was always tall for my age, she obviously had to lean in AND down to kiss me. My young brain was still anticipating a lighting fast peck on the lips. But it wasn't. It was slow and soft, and warm. Her lips actually continued to move on mine and this was nothing like the playground kisses. Nothing. My brain began to try and process what was happening. What candy has she been eating? Is that strawberry or cherry? Perhaps both? It tastes great. Do all girls taste like this? Was that her tongue or does she have a magic third lip? By the time it was over, I stood there...my arms numb and limp and legs weak. A deer in headlights. She was talking to me now, but I couldn't hear what she way saying. I tried to muster the right words to convey how I felt, but settled with something along the lines of "cya next year!" The bell rang, and I watched as she skipped happily down the hallway, her short cheerleader skirt bouncing and swishing...revealing the matching cheer "shorts" underneath. That was almost 50yrs ago and I still remember it vividly to this day.
Maybe it was just a crush, maybe it was love, maybe it is what "types" and fetishes are born out of. 95% of the girls/women from that point forward were older than me. Right up to and including the wife of 30+ yrs. And I will probably never quit trying to get them to put on a cheerleader outfit! (Although I learned later in life that I appreciated "flag girls" more.)
So what's YOUR story?
