In the beginning, perhaps!

 So, my reader asks if I remember the moment I "set off on a quest for orgasmic delights".  It was really much earlier than my first real intercourse, age 20.

There was an odd phase of odd masturbation in my mid-teens, but I'll tell you about that later. 

I was attracted to several boys in high school, and did the usual kissing and snuggling, and had my small breasts fondled a few times. It definitely felt good and I always seemed to want more. One fellow had me fondle his penis (in the dark, in clothes) but I wasn't very impressed. He was a good kisser and fondler. After another make-out session later, he asked me, "You would have gone all the way, wouldn't you?"  I was pretty sure I would have, and told him so, but not sure what it was, exactly. I was mostly clueless about sex, but very keen on "love".

In university, which I started when I was 17, I got into some great petting sessions with a few young men, and unlike a "good girl" I encouraged them. I wasn't teasing; I was hungry for it!  I thrilled to the feelings running through my body, and didn't want them to stop. I guess I was lucky that the guys were either responsible or scared, as this was the time before The Pill. First year provided lots of opportunities to taste the world, but I was living at home, so there were restrictions, curfews and consequences. 

Then, at the end of first year, I met the young man of my dreams. He was intelligent, friendly, strong and nice-looking, and we crossed paths daily at our summer jobs. Soon, we were going to movies and parties, and having visits (mostly chaperoned) at my cottage. We both had cars available, too. It was idyllic. The only "problem" was that I wanted to move into sex faster than he did. We did a lot of kissing and cuddling, and he comforted me through problems with my mother, who liked and approved of him.  My dog liked him too, which I took as a good sign. 

We dated through the next school year, but in the spring he told me he wanted to go out west to try a slightly different summer job. Before he left, we went to the cottage for the day (in April; it was chilly) and took turns being naked for each other. Just to look and fondle a little. I remember how enormous and red his penis was. I had certainly never seen anything like that before! We parted for the summer, sadly. He wrote every day or so, and I wrote back. When I was at summer school in Trois-Pistoles, Quebec, for six weeks, I was frequently on the verge of hopping on the cross-country train that would take me all the way to him in Edmonton. But he talked me out of it (back when long distance from a pay phone required much loose change!).  Still, I was getting some sexual attention from a fellow student (in the back of his VW Beetle) and my sweetheart was going out with a friendly, strong Ukrainian girl from work. In the back seat of the Beetle, we kissed and petted, and I sat on his lap, rubbing myself against his bumpy trousers. I would get very moist and happy, and I don't know how he survived, but he did. We both enjoyed it, it seems!

When my true love came back in September, we resumed our relationship, and while I was always the drama queen, he was rock steady, and we were sure it was going to last. Things were getting hotter and moister, but no one was ever really naked. Semi-naked necking in my mother's house... ah, the days of youth!

But the following summer, I got a job at expo67 in Montreal and he wanted to go out west again. His job was at Jasper Park Lodge, but he did not like it at all. Very hard work for small pay and too many decadent parties in the staff dorms. So he decided to come to Montreal, too. That summer, that's where it was all happening! He arrived without a job, and spent a couple of weeks looking, even staying with me and my roommate for a little while, and that is the moment, May 16, 1967, that we finally had "real sex". It was pretty satisfying, but scary, too, so I went to a slightly sleazy doctor and got on the Pill, which wasn't quite legal then. 

Then we were good to go!  The roommate and I moved to a downtown apartment, much better than what we had first tried, and my sweetie found a room in a lively old house full of interesting characters, just 2 blocks away from me. Because we were all on different shifts at work, we had lots of opportunity to get together and try all the new possibilities. Pretty vanilla, of course, but great at the time! I think that's when I discovered the usefulness of towels!

But on May 23 or 24, something happened. One of my work friends had a St Jean Baptiste Day party (although we didn't get the holiday off) and we invited my boyfriend and his gang of work friends too. Some people had to go to work at midnight, others at 8 a.m. and lucky others not till noon. My sweetie was one who had to leave like Cinderella, but the rest stayed on. Then, this wonderful Nova Scotian, whose girlfriend was away for the summer in England, chatted me up, fondled me some, and then took me into the bathroom (the only one, of course, annoying everyone else) and introduced me to cunnilingus (his girlfriend's favourite thing, he said)! He made me come and squirm and come again. I had a wonderful time, and when they finally made us leave the bathroom, we had intercourse right there on the living room floor. That was good, too.  In the morning, we made our separate ways home. 

A week or so later, when the "boys" were all together after work, and I was alone in my apartment, I felt the need to spill the beans. There was disappointment and sadness and embarrassment, but no fistfights.

And that's where I'll leave this story for now.