Chapter 1
If my parents would have known, when they posed me for the traditional nude shot for babies everywhere, lying on my tummy on the rug with my bare ass hanging out, that I'd end up starting my career by posing in a similar fashion for a nude centerfold when I was some twenty years older, I often wonder if they would have taken the snapshot. I actually doubt if it would have affected their entry into the family scrapbook, as I believe a person is programmed to do what they will, but they were hardly the types to approve of their daughter becoming a pinup sensation. Back in those days, the centerfold was only a staple in Hugh Hefner's mind, anyway, so they really had no guidelines.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not in any way blaming the innocent picture my parents took of me in the buff for launching me on my way to Pussy magazine's May layout, it's just that, upon comparing the two photos many years later, I thought the coincidence was highly ironic in a funny sort of way.
The whole idea of posing for a nude centerfold wasn't mine. A good friend of mine was a photographer in Los Angeles, specializing in shooting nude layouts that he sold to various magazines. I was having difficulty with my college expenses, so he offered to pay me fifty dollars to pose nude for him. I was no prude and needed the money, so I agreed. I never had any idea that he would sell them to Pussy magazine, one of the biggest in the men's field, and that they would feature me as their centerfold several months later, and that the centerfold would eventually lead to my becoming a photographer in my own right.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I didn't bounce out of my baby book to Edgar College, then into the laps of America quite that quickly. There were a few interesting things that happened to me on the way. While not exceptional, they were . . . well, to tell the truth, it wasn't all that interesting after all. So, I'll just give you the old thumbnail bio.
I was born and brought up in Phoenix, Arizona, the second daughter of a salesman. My childhood was pretty normal, except that I was a little spoiled, being the youngest daughter. Actually, my sister was pretty spoiled too. Maybe if we would have had a brother around it might have been different-I guess it kept Dad pretty much on his toes being surrounded by three women all the time.
In high school, I began to develop a liking for art, and when I took a photography course, I really got hung up on that, although that was as far as my actual training in the subject went until I got into college and rediscovered my interest in the subject. Like most teenage girls, my biggest hobby was boys.
I was aware at a fairly early age that I was better looking than most girls. Now that I look back on that, it seems sort of unfair that someone should get special privileges just because they look a certain way, but I'll have to admit that I got behind it back then. For instance, I was a cheerleader and that whole bit. I know that sort of thing goes against the grain of most kids today, but back in the early sixties it was still a big thing. I never went so far as to enter beauty contests or anything like that, even though I had several offers, but I did dig the fact that I was popular due to my looks. Now that I look back on it, the whole idea does sort of piss me off. I mean, I was always on the honor role academically, but no guy ever went out with me because of that. I'm glad that sort of thing has begun to turn around with today's kids, as it was sort of an unquestioning mindless era.
Of course, I wasn't giving that much thought to the mores of my generation back in those days. I'm afraid I was pitifully well-adjusted. I even got along with my parents . . . reasonably well at any rate. I'm not trying to say it was any Robert Young in Father Knows Best type of thing, but we did get along pretty well. My parents had married fairly late in life, so I guess they really appreciated their kids since they'd waited for so long.
I guess by today's standards I was pretty much of a goodie-two-shoes. At least that's the way I came off what with the cheerleading bit and all. I was always careful not to let the boys go too far, didn't drink, or smoke . . . not until my senior year at any rate. That's when I lost my cherry.
I guess being seventeen is pretty late to lose your cherry. I mean, there's so many kids these days in junior high that know more about sex than I did when I was a senior in high school. At the same time, just like back then, there are those girls who try to save their virtue for marriage. I was one of these girls, but I fell in love with Gene, the star halfback on the football team, during my junior year.
It was one of those romances, those teenage romances, that seem to be made in heaven . . . at least to other teenagers. He was the big star of the football team, and I was the head cheerleader. My folks got along well with him, so they had no objections of my going out with him.
At first, we'd always double-date, but we really got a strong feeling for each other and saw a lot of each other during the summer before our senior year. By the time school rolled around, I was wearing his letter sweater, the sure sign that we were going steady. We didn't get to go out that much with him spending so much time with football practice, but the fact we couldn't be together as much as we would have liked only made our feelings stronger.
Up until this point, Gene and I had never gone farther than heavy petting, usually done at the local drive-in. As our feelings grew stronger, we began to talk of vague plans of marriage, and it all seemed like such a nice idea and all, especially since it seemed so far off and we didn't really have to make any strong commitments to reality.
This policy continued during the football season, even though we both were having a hard time repressing our strong sexual desires for each other. I'd begun to masturbate when I was fourteen, my older sister having turned me onto it, and I often found myself practicing this as a means to physical release after a date with Gene. We probably would have gotten down to balling at an earlier stage in our relationship if it hadn't been for his heavy football schedule, though, as we both had sort of decided that we would be together forever and that it wouldn't do any harm as long as we felt this way about each other. Gene had admitted to me that he'd made it with a couple of girls in the past, but that he didn't have the feelings for them that he did for me. At the same time, he knew I was a virgin and he respected my feelings.
By the time the football season was into full swing, we both realized that we'd like to make it, but the way things were going, both of us heavily involved in our own activities, we didn't want to blow it. About the only time I could be with him was on game nights, dancing at the record hops they held in the gym after the games. Gene was having a great year, leading our team to the district championship, and he tried to follow his coach's advice to cool it with girls as he was hoping for an athletic scholarship to some university the next year.
We did get a chance to make out in the car, parked in front of my house, after the dances, but we never went too far there, not wanting my folks to get suspicious. I'd always come in afterwards and beat off in my bedroom, this being the only place I had the privacy to do so. My sister no longer shared a room with me, having been married the previous summer to a guy she'd met during her first year of college.
In the meantime, Gene and I exchanged whatever non-sexual things we could, eating lunch together in school, him walking me to classes, arm draped around my shoulders, and visiting with each other briefly whenever the chance came up. It wasn't until the football season was over that we got the chance to be together more often, as he didn't play any winter sports and would be off until the track season started in the Spring.
My folks really liked Gene, so they began to let me stay out later with him on the weekends, trusting the two of us to 'do what was right,' in my mother's words, extending my curfew. At the same time, I think they hoped that we'd wait and see if it was the real thing and not rush into marriage. My father, having never finished college, had been sort of disappointed when my sister, Joan, had gotten married after only one year of college, and I knew that he wished me to be able to go on and get a degree. Yet, good father that he was, he never pressured me.
Gene and I would usually start our Friday night dates out by attending the basketball game. I think he really dug the recognition, having received All-State honors in football, coming into the gym with me and waving to all the people. I'll have to admit that it made me feel proud, even though my place was somewhat secondary to his. I wasn't leading the cheers at the basketball games, as the juniors took over at our school after the football season. My stint as head cheerleader had started at the beginning of the basketball season last year.
Afterwards, we might go to the dance and then go parking at a spot out in the desert that was popular with the kids. Phoenix is surrounded by miles and miles of desert, and the kids that grew up there know that there's plenty of places a couple can park and not be bothered by the cops.
One night in January, it was a Saturday night, Gene and I had decided to go to the movies as there was no basketball game. Once in his car, however, we scanned the newspapers and found that we'd seen everything we'd wanted to see, so instead we got a quick hamburger and decided to head to our favorite make out place.
All the way out there, the stars shining brightly down on us, I had the feeling that this would be the night. We'd been out here before, but I'd usually find someway to cut things off once we were going too far, at least by my standards. But as I looked over at him, handsome and muscular, as he steered the car out the winding road to the desert, I realized that I just couldn't suppress my desires any longer. If things would get to that place where it felt like a rubber band was stretching to the breaking point inside me, I'd let him have me.
It was that simple.
Once Gene had pulled into the dry wash where we usually parked, a place that made us almost totally invisible from twenty or thirty yards away, we went after it right away. We didn't do all the talking we usually did, just began kissing and petting away at each other as if there were no tomorrow. From the way Gene was getting worked up, I got the feeling that he somehow realized that tonight would be the night too.
We had already spoken about all those trite things-the undying commitments to each other and everything. It was all down to me: would I, or wouldn't I? From the way his hands were caressing me, making tingles race through my body, it looked like a very good bet that this would be it.
After some preliminary petting, I was becoming frantic. I didn't even try to stop him like I usually did when I felt his fingers undoing the buttons of my blouse. I just pushed my mouth more tightly to his and lashed my tongue against his all the harder and faster-I wanted him.
Neither did I stop him when he reached around and unsnapped my bra with one hand. My tits were now exposed to his sight, and he pulled back to cup them while he marveled at them with his eyes. I had as big a set then as I do now . . . in fact, since I've lost some weight to stay in step with the current vogue, I've lost an inch on the perfect 37's I had. The wind, blowing in across the cool desert night through the mesquites, made goose bumps rise on them, but from the way the nipples were standing up, hard and erect, I realized that the wind wasn't the only thing causing the configurations on my flesh. The coolness of the air was colliding against the warmth within my virginal body. But I wouldn't be a virgin for long. Not after this night.
He lowered his head and took one of the nipples into his mouth and began sucking hard.
"Ssssss," I hissed through my teeth as I felt him working them over, switching to the other one and sucking on it until it was nearly bursting.
His hands were working frantically up and down my bare sides now as he lolled the tits around inside his mouth. I was really worked up myself, my hands clutching at his sweater, knotting in his curly hair.
He looked up at me, the stars reflecting in his eyes, begging me to let him go on. This was the place where I usually cut things off-in fact, the most I'd ever done with him was to stroke his hard pecker through his pants and shorts.
"I want it," I told him, leaving no more doubts in our minds.
I could tell that he felt a little nervous about it, but it only helped decrease my own nerves. To a girl like me, this was a big step in one's life, as it must be for every girl. You can only lose your cherry once.
But whatever trepidations we might have had, we were eager enough to screw each other, he somehow managed to lower me to the seat. He had a big Chevrolet, with a long single seat, so we didn't have buckets that made us get into the back. My head fit right under the armrest on the passenger side of the car-a little awkward, but it didn't matter.
I eased my ass up off the seat so that he could slip my pink panties down. I could feel the cool breeze around my thighs as he slid them off and threw them on the floorboard. This was to be no ordinary ball, I felt, but more the prince taking a princess out by a desert oasis.
I still had on my blouse, but it was open at the front, exposing my entire torso. I had discarded my bra since the straps were getting in the way. He bunched my full skirt up around my waist and began to unzip his trousers.
I felt a chill go over me upon seeing his erect cock. It looked so big . . . I wondered if I could take it. The only other adult I'd ever seen was my daddy, and that had been by accident on a couple of occasions, and he hadn't had a hard-on. But there in the moonlight and shadows was Gene's big cock, all throbbing and hard, ready to go inside my pussy.
He pushed his pants down around his knees and began to kiss me around my triangle. Oh shit, did it feel good. If there'd been any doubts about me wanting him up till then, they were quickly dispelled by his tongue. And then he was kissing at my pussy and my clitoris, making me squirm around as much as possible within the cramped confines of the car.
"Oh, do it to me, Baby," I told him.
I was eager to feel that cock inside me. That rubber band feeling I always got was present, and I felt that it would snap at any moment. He did my bidding, scooting up along the seat between my spread thighs, lowering himself down upon me.
With a trembling hand, he pushed the head of his cock up to my pussy and shoved slightly. There was a bit of pain, but the erotic feelings drowned out the bad part. I'd always been a horseback rider, and I'd ruptured my hymen way back when I was about ten, so at least that wouldn't get in the way.
He talked gently to me, kissing at my ears as he pushed harder and then was in me. It hurt, but the pain began to subside as he gently started to rock his hips up and down, throwing his cock into my hole.
"Ahhhhh, yes," I sighed, the pleasure sensations sweeping away the minimal pain.
There was a little blood . . . my girlfriend, Wanda, had warned me there might be the first time, but I could tell there wasn't very much. The slop-piness I felt down there was mainly my pussy juices that I'd secreted in the excitement of our pre-play. He began to work harder, settling his weight down atop me as he now shoved his pecker to me, working it in about halfway down the shaft with each lunge.
I wrapped my legs up and crossed them at the ankles, hooked around the back of his muscular thighs. Our breathing was heavy, but we managed a few kisses, confining most of them to each other's ears and necks. My hands pawed at his back and hair. He cradled my head in one of his arms to keep it from knocking against the door of the rocking car. The springs in the seat kept time with our fucking, the suction sounds of his cock rending my tight pussy flesh mingling with our sighs.
"Is it all right, Baby?" he smiled, his free hand fondling my right tittie.
"Yes, yes," I moaned, lost in the rapture of my first screw. "Oh, Gene, I love you."
"I love you too," he breathed, pumping his shaft in farther with each stroke.
I needed to hear that kind of thing then . . . sort of a reassurance I needed to hear at a time like this. We had vowed our love before, but this time seemed to make it binding. As I've said, I was so straight back then, I probably wouldn't have let him ball me unless we thought we were going to be married someday. It was a very special thing to me. It may seem corny, but it was to him too . . . at least at the time. He was so kind and considerate. I've bumped into a lot of girls who had a rough time of it the first time. For some, it was so traumatic to them, they'd begun to associate men with pain and brutality, not a few of them becoming lesbians. I'm bisexual, it's true, but it's not because I don't enjoy it with men. I've come to find that sex with men and with women, while being a distinctly different type of thrill, is pleasing to me. I was lucky to start out with a guy as kind as Gene.
"Oh, so good," he moaned, burying his head into my shoulder as his white hips shone in the moonlight, bouncing up and down as he ground his prick into my cunt.
I couldn't help but marvel at how his butt muscles, trim through so much participation in football, rippled as they worked into me. I was working my hips underneath his, my butt scraping along the seat, my skirt bunched up beneath them, trying to meet his every thrust. I was really pawing at his sweater now, twisting it into knots from the intense pleasure.
He was giving me every inch of it now, pounding it in at a steady, slow cadence, speeding up for a quick flurry, then slowing down for punctuation. I could feel the churning inside my guts, unlike that I'd felt when I'd diddled myself off, and I knew I was near.
And then, with a final lunge, he tensed, his teeth biting into my shoulder. I felt a hot blast of his jizz shoot inside me, then another, his ass squeezing together as if trying to drain every last drop. And then I felt myself letting go in wave after wave of violent fury. I gripped my legs tightly to him and moaned loudly my love for him. I was a virgin no more.