I was, however, naïve about human sexuality.
My name is Jenny Jorgenson. I was always Jenny until I got to be a teenager when I insisted on being called Jen.
When I say I grew up on a farm in Kansas, I'm talking over a thousand acres. In the decade after World War II most people would consider us rich. My mother did not want me to grow up to be a farm girl. I mean on the farm I wore jeans or as they were called back then, dungarees. Dung, get it? I had to muck out stalls. My mother wanted me to be a sophisticated lady. At every turn I resisted. Looking back, one Sunday after church, I didn't bother to change into my farm clothes. With my church dress on, I mounted my horse and rode away; bareback.
I didn't ride like a lady either. I rode like my cowboy heroes in the westerns I saw in the movie theater in town; I rode at full gallop. I'd been riding before I could walk. My mother was appalled. "Jenny, I've told you a thousand times, you need to act like a lady."
Looking back fifty years later, I now know what bothered her the most; it wasn't that I didn't look like a lady when I rode, it's that she was afraid that I'd break my hymen and on my wedding night, there'd be no "evidence" that I was a virgin.
There was no chance that would happen. I mean the virgin part on my wedding night.
That Sunday was the straw that broke the camel's back. Mother sent me to a finishing school. It was 1950 and I was ten-years-old.
Not just any finishing school. I was sent to a place in Europe, I'd never heard of and many of you haven't either. A place not on many maps. A place called Vaduz, Liechtenstein. It's between Austria and Switzerland, and the whole country wasn't all that much bigger than our farm.
The country's language was German, but in Countess von Pfeiffer's Finishing School for Girls, the language of instruction was English, but I was required to learn German and Latin. Katerina Pfeiffer's grandmother founded the school in the 1880's. It was designed for girls from grade school through university. It had survived both world wars.
When I left Kansas, I expected to be back the following summer; I didn't get home until my mid-twenties.
This is an erotic stories site, so I'm sure that's the part you want to hear about.
Nothing happened until I was eighteen. That's when Madam von Pfeiffer invited me to her home to discuss my future. "Miss Jorgenson, you're ready for university. I received a letter from your mother; she wishes that you continue here. Is that what you'd like?"
"I don't know, Madam. I like it here, but if I'm honest, I wish there were some boys around. If I was back in Kansas. I might be starting to think about getting married. I correspond with some of childhood friends. One is getting married; another is married and just had a baby."
What happened next was the most unexpected thing I thought could happen. I was sitting on a sofa and the headmistress was sitting across from me.
She got up and sat down next to me. "Miss Jorgenson, I think I understand. You're at an age where girls start thinking not just about men, but they start to think with something other than their brains."
I had no idea what she meant. Then to my surprise, Countess von Pfeiffer kissed me on the mouth. I'd never kissed a boy. The last person I kissed was my mother when she took me to the airport in Wichita. It was nothing like the way the headmistress kissed me.
I had no idea what to do. I had no idea what to do when she kissed me with her tongue. It got more confusing when she put her hand on my breast.
The school was good about explaining to us girls about the physical changes in our bodies through puberty. There was no instruction about hormonal changes; no instruction about sexual desire. Although to be honest, we passed around romance novels, but they never got much passed the kissing stage.
They never said anything about what the Countess was doing.
I didn't resist. I didn't do anything. Well, I was shaking. "Miss Jorgenson, everything will be fine. If you were with a boy right now, this is what he would be doing and you'd likely let him and enjoy it. Let me enjoy you."
She unbuttoned the top of my dress. "Miss Jorgenson, you are a very attractive young woman. That's why I invited you here."
Countess von Pfeiffer was feeling my breast through my bra. To be honest, I did enjoy the feeling. A feeling, I'd never had before. Like I said, I was confused.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you about me. In addition to academics, Madam von Pfeiffer's stressed physical fitness. As she said, "a strong body will give you the strength to endure child birth." I was tall for the times; just over 5'6" with long legs.
Since Madam von Pfeiffer was feeling my breasts, you probably want to know about them. Today, I wear a 36DD, but back then probably a 34CC. Like most women, as I aged, I gained some weight. Not just in my breasts but in my ass as well,
Given my Swedish ancestry, no surprise I'm blonde. In fact, my hair was almost the same color as the wheatfields on our farm.
Anyhow, a few minutes later, "Miss Jorgenson, I can enjoy you more if you take this off. Let me help you." She was talking about my bra.
She certainly did. Enjoy me more that is, and to be honest I did, too. I was feeling things I never felt before. "Miss Jorgenson, you have the most beautiful breasts. Thank you for allowing me to become familiar with them."
I think the word ‘allowing" was a stretch. I didn't stop her, but I don't think I did anything to encourage her either.
Then she leaned forward and kissed one, then the other. "When you marry, Miss Jorgenson, your breasts will make your husband very happy. They make me very happy. I've never seen more beautiful breasts."
I blushed.
"Speaking of a husband, you will find that men call your beautiful breasts, tits or titties. It may be inappropriate for ladies like us, but I find it acceptable when engaged in a romantic encounter to use the word titties. Miss Jorgenson, ‘you have the most beautiful titties."
If I could have got any redder . . . and she said romantic encounter. This was nothing like the romantic encounters in those romance novels I read.
You may think I was stupid, but when I thought about getting married, I didn't think about the sex part. Stupid, naïve, whatever, I think part of it was the period I grew up in. Sex wasn't talked about. Madam von Pfeiffer wasn't talking about sex; she was engaging me in sex.
Her kisses; her tongue kisses and her hands all over my breasts made them feel so good. Like I said, like never before.
If that had been the end, I would have gone to my room smiling. I had breasts that my husband would enjoy. The Countess said so.
The reality was that was only the beginning. "Miss Jorgenson, I know how good it makes you feel to have your breasts touched and kissed. Would you like to make me feel like that?"
I was shocked, stunned. More shocking, Madam didn't wait for my answer. She unbuttoned the top of her dress, unhooked her bra, took my hand and guided it to her breasts.
Of course, when I bathed, I washed my breasts, but never touched them like the headmistress touched mine. Now, she wanted me to touch her breasts the same way.
I did and I heard her sigh. My hands and fingers explored her breasts and nipples. I liked the feeling; I liked the way I made her feel. Countess von Pfeiffer was almost seventy-years-old. Her breasts were much larger than mine; unlike mine, hers were soft and sagged. I mean when I looked at mine in the mirror, my nipples were pointing right at me. Madam's pointed toward the floor.
At the same time, she was using her fingers on my now erect nipples. That was new. I moaned uncontrollably.
"Miss Jorgenson, you are lovely. Your breasts are lovely. I'd love to know you even better, but I think we've had enough for today. If you'd like to continue, just knock on my door; you do not need an appointment."
TO BE CONTINUED
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