Author: The Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net.
Please use “Story Comments” in subject line if you send e-mail.
Title: Droit de Seigneur  
Keywords: M/F, rom, 1st
Summary: A girl wants a man to maker her a woman.

Why that Thursday?  Why Jeff?  I guess it was just how it happened.  I finally felt like an adult that last week of summer before college.  And maybe it was kind of a “droit de seigneur” thing that made it Jeff.  “Droit de seigneur” means the right of the lord or the master.  Seems a long time ago a landowner could take the virginity of the women on his land.  That seems crazy now, I guess, but I could say something for it.  An older man, a guy with a little experience, was just what I wanted to feel safe when I was ready.
So I felt like an adult, finally.  I had a dorm room reserved in Missoula and I was going to be leaving on Saturday.  It wasn’t a place of my own, but it was a start.  I had stuck to my job at the furniture store all summer and Jeff, the warehouse boss, had told me what a good job I’d done.  He’d had his eye on me, kind of, all summer, but he was always okay.  He just looked longer at me than at the guys.  The other guys were all high school or first-year at college – like me – but they all seemed too young, too goofy.  Maybe it was the scraggly goatees and the earrings.  Anyway, I passed on all of them.
So it was my last day at work for the summer and Jeff asked me what I was doing to celebrate.  “Nothing,” I told him.  “Just going home and finishing packing.  Maybe I’ll go to a movie.”
“We can do better than that,” he said.  “Let me take you to the Mexican place.”  There was a little gleam in his eye, but I think what happened was a surprise for both of us.
So we went to the Mexican place and we had some good enchiladas.  We talked about the work that summer and the guys on the crew.  Some of them had been pretty good and some of them had been problems, always late to work or doing something stupid in the warehouse.  “Just kids,” Jeff said and I nodded like I was an old boss or something.
“What are you going to study in Missoula?” he asked.
“I’ll figure that out by next year, maybe,” I laughed.  “Freshmen are always switching their majors.”
“I’ve got some stuff from Missoula in my place,” Jeff said.  “Do you want to see it?”
So we wound up at Jeff’s place.  It had been real hot all day and he turned on the air conditioner and got me some iced tea.  The cool air felt good.  His place was new and it smelled clean and kind of raw.  I liked that smell, though.  It was always sexy to me.
I wonder why I told him I was a virgin.  I think he asked about my boyfriend.  “Boyfriend? I’m the last virgin from my school,” I said, or something like that.
He seemed to understand.  “I started kind of late,” he said.  “Waiting makes sense.”
“Waiting used to make sense,” I said.  “But I’m tired of waiting.”
“You can quit waiting any time you want,” Jeff said.
“Oh, sure, but the guys!  You know what they’re like.  They’d finish me like a sandwich at lunch.  No, thanks.  I’ll wait for someone who has a clue.”
Maybe he thought I said cue.  Maybe it was what I had in mind from the time we went to the Mexican place.  But the next thing I knew he had me in his arms and he carried me into his bedroom. 
He sat down on the bed with me on his lap and I pulled his mouth to mine.  His lips were hot on mine as I opened up to let my tongue reach for his.  I had never tasted a tongue before; it was sweet and salty and there was a little Coke on it.  Letting his tongue into my mouth seemed like a way to try out letting him inside me.  I knew it would be different, but I wanted to pretend I was trying it out anyway.
Lord, he was patient with me.  Patient and slow.  It hurt my breasts to wait while he undid the buttons on my shirt.  I could feel my nipples rise as he opened the top button.  They got higher and harder as he opened the second button and I felt the cool air from the air conditioner touch my soft skin above my bra.  I know I only did up five buttons on that shirt that morning, but he must have opened up twenty or thirty that evening.  I thought I would pass out or die when he pulled my shirt out of my pants.  I was still sucking on his tongue and holding onto his neck like a life preserver on the Titanic or something, so I had to wiggle around to let him get the shirt out of the back of my pants.  I wound up rubbing my bottom on his lap and I don’t know which of us was breathing harder.  
I hated letting go even with one hand.  He felt so good, his chest strong against mine, my face buried in his neck.  Maybe part of me was trying to slow down, to see if there was a way out.  But I wanted to keep going, so I let go with my left hand and between us we got the sleeve off my arm.  I was wearing my pink lace bra with the little bow in the middle.  The damn clasp was on the back, but I figured we’d get around to it.  We got my right arm out after I got a good grip with my left arm again.
I’m sure he was saying something sweet to me, but I think I quit talking about the time he picked me up to go in the bedroom.  My shirt was on the floor and I kicked off my sandals.  His fingers were working down the side of my breast and my waist to get to my waistband.  My belly tightened up just like my breasts when he ran his finger inside the tight denim.  His thumb and forefinger were fumbling with the button, so I let go of his neck just for a second to help.  I was a little scared again as I realized where I was.  I was on his lap, sitting on his bed, alone with him.  My shirt was on the floor, his right hand was on my bare belly and his left hand was stroking my back.  Each time it crossed the thin strap across my back, I felt again that I was awfully bare.  I was showing myself to a man for the first time.  And my pants were loose at the waist, my panties beginning to show.
I was going to keep my pants on for a couple of minutes.  He pulled me closer against his chest and I started working on his shirt buttons too.  But his right hand was busy on my bare leg, stroking up the silky skin of my thigh and touching under the fringe of the cut denim.  He slipped his index finger inside the leg band of my panties and I almost bit his tongue, it felt so good.  So scary, so good.  His hand slid around the top of my thigh under my panties, his fingers touching my pubic hair for the first time.  I could feel it standing up like the hairs on my arms. I could even feel the shaved hairs on my legs trying to stand up.
I felt a disturbance behind me and some fumbling as he slipped his left hand under the back of my shorts and inside my panties.  His hand was cool against my bottom, but his right hand was warm against my navel where he was starting to stroke my stomach again.  Suddenly he lifted me gently and stood me up in front of him, holding me gently between his thighs.
His eyes were locked into mine.  They glowed with promise and heat and fondness.  I don’t think I loved him and I don’t think he loved me, but that was okay.  I liked him a lot and that was good enough that evening.  At least I was going to do my first time with a guy I liked, a guy who liked me.  Some of my girlfriends had been a lot less lucky or choosy.
I had my hands on his shoulders as he tugged my cut-offs down over my hips and let them drop to the floor.  I was about to step out of them when he stood up and swept me in his arms again.  I kissed him hard as he cuddled me against his chest and turned around.  He pulled me up against himself one more time, helping himself to a feel of my bottom, then he laid me on the quilt and knelt beside the bed.
Scary swept over me again and I kind of curled up toward him.  My blue panties were no protection, my pink lace was more decoration than cover and I knew what I was doing.  But it was like a scary movie, fun scary.  It was really me and I was really going to do this.  Unless I chickened out.
But he was patient and gentle and kind.  He kissed my lips softly and stroked my back while I got my nerve again.  Then he gently rolled me onto my stomach and he rubbed my shoulders for what seemed an age.  Each stroke was strong and warm and gentle and I got hot all over again.  I swear I could feel my skin getting pinker as he worked on me.  Slowly he worked his hands lower until he could release the catch on my bra.  I felt like I’d been set free from a shell when he opened my bra.
Then he turned me onto my back again and he slipped my bra off.  My little breasts felt the wash of cool air like a splash of water and they stood like tiny Marines at attention.  I didn’t even realize I’d covered them until I felt his kisses on my hands.  I know he really wanted to kiss my breasts, to touch my nipples, but he could see I needed a moment or two.
He used that time well.  I watched in breathless silence as he finished taking off his shirt and took off his own shorts.  His thing – okay, his penis -- was bulging hard through the white jockey shorts.  He had a fan of light hair across his chest and it tapered in a line down his belly.  I was startled to see it started to spread out as it disappeared under his waistband.  Then he knelt by the bed again.  His hands went to the waistband of my panties and he pulled gently down.  The elastic felt weird as it slid down my waist and it bunched up under my bottom.  I glanced down and saw the first tuft of my pubic hair appear, then the tops of my thighs.  I lifted my bottom for a moment so he could get my panties down below my hips.  Then suddenly I found my hands busy covering up what they could, one arm across my little breasts and my other hand hiding my pubic area.  My legs were clamped like a vault hiding the crown jewels.
But he was quite a burglar, oh yes he was.  His eyes held mine as he lifted my arm from my breasts and put it by my side. His lips were soft and wet and warm on my nipples, his tongue was a feather stroking the underside of my breasts.  No hand but mine had ever been there before, certainly not anyone’s mouth.  The fire streaked from his lips and his tongue into my belly and down between my legs – still clamped, still guarded by my hand.
I guess he thought I was ready and I guess I was.  He lifted my hand way from the triangle below my navel and he touched my pubic hair again.  He tickled me with his fingers in my pubic hair and I began to giggle.  At the same time he was touching my breasts with his fingers and I was trying to gasp and giggle at the same time.  It wasn’t easy but it was good.  It was very good.
He let go of my breasts so he could finish removing my panties.  I wiggled and squirmed as he pulled them down over my thighs and off my feet.  I felt so free as I lay there, naked and eager for more. Then he came back beside me, still kneeling on the floor, and he got back to kissing my breasts and then my belly.
His hand was busy, too.  He tickled me again, then stroked the insides of my thighs.  Each stroke came higher up the soft skin inside my thighs, closer to my vagina.  Finally he was touching the soft lips, the moist place inside me, the hard knot that I had played with so many times.  His touch was so different from my own.  It wasn’t really better, but it was so good that it was a man and not me this time.
I pulled him onto the bed, up on top of me, and I started yanking on his jockey shorts.  I wanted to get him naked and I wanted to wiggle my nakedness against his.  Somehow we got rid of his underpants and I pulled him back against me.  His hardness felt like lightning against my pubis, pressed against my belly as we rubbed together.  His chest was rough and exciting on my breasts and his tongue was an electric wire against my throat.  
Then he rolled over, pulling me on top of him for a while. His hands were mostly on my bottom, stroking and squeezing as I rubbed my breasts against his chest. His penis was strong and quivering in my hand, a tiny wet drop on the end matching my own wetness.  Then I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.  Jeff had a condom from somewhere and he slipped it on before I could rape him.
I had always wondered what it would be like and I had built my own dreams of how it would be.  Most of it was happening.  I had always imagined my first lover would be on top of me and that was how it was going to be!  So I rolled off of him and drew him back between my legs.  I opened my thighs and I touched myself for a minute.  Then I felt his penis and he probed with it, finding the opening in my vagina.
It was so weird at first, stretching to pull him inside.  It hurt a little, but just for a minute.  He waited while I helped him fit inside and he lay still while I got used to the surprise of it.  Then he pulled back and rocked forward.
Well, I had never done that for myself.  The feel was so different from what I could do, the fullness and the pressure on my belly.  He pushed in and pulled back, my body drawing him in again and again.  My clitoris was shrieking for more, my nipples were hard buds of beautiful burning pain.  
He came before I did.  I was surprised that I came at all.  He managed to keep going a little longer and I got my hand in to help finish the job.  Then he pulled gently out of me and got me cuddled up on his shoulder.
We did it again later, slick with sweat and our earlier loving.  It was good, but it was different.  It wasn’t the first.  The first was good.  The first was, well, the first.  You know. Or maybe you don’t yet.