In the early autumn of 1959 I started a new job at a local small bussiness that manufactured ladies handbags and shoppers.  A friend already worked there and had told me there was a vacancy for a packer/despatcher, work which I had done with a previous employer.  I applied and got the job.  On my first day, I was led to the area where I would be working and discovered two women at tables close by, whose job was to make a final inspection of finished products, wrap them, box them and label the boxes.  It was then my job to pack boxes into appropriate cases or crates and organise the paperwork for collection.

One of the women was actually a girl in her late teens and the first sight I had of her was from behind, my eyes focussing on a slim pair of legs with an appealing tan, curvy calves and slim and shapely ankles, features which I always liked.  On her feet were Roman-style sandals, with the cords criss-crossing up the back of those calves before being tied off.  When she turned around I was confronted by a lovely face, framed by long, blonde hair - and a delightful pair of small but pert breasts.  I was instantly attracted, but had no notion that in the following Spring she would become my wife! 

The other woman was a middle-aged lady, Kath, who was to play some part in encouraging her workmate to go out with me in the first place.

I set about getting to know the girl, whose name was Joan.  She had a steady boyfriend of some years, but I got the impression that it was not an exciting relationship.  So I persevered and eventually got a date with her, to see a film.  That date was followed by others and eventually, with some encouragement from Kath, I stole Joan from her boyfriend and we began a steady relationship.  One evening soon after, when we were at another cinema and we were sitting as close together as the seats allowed, I with my arm around her and we had kissed a few times, she quietly whispered to me that her bra was undone.  Much later I began to suspect she may have quite deliberately not fastened it to begin with, but I simply took the statement as a cue and over the following minutes gently moved my other hand up to slip inside the top of her blouse and fondle one of her titties.  She made no protest.  The way to her home afterwards usually saw us using a paved back alleyway, wide enough for a car or small van but with no houses facing into it and only a couple of widely-spaced street lamps.  So at a suitable dark spot we stopped for more kissing and this time I undid her blouse and had an enjoyable feel of both breasts.  Again, she made no protest.  At that time she was between a B and C cup.

As our relationship progressed, I came to spend the later part of most evenings at her home.  When it was time for me to leave, we would go into the narrow hallway that led to the front door and there, by the door, we would have a final kiss and cuddle, which often lasted a half-hour or more.  It was a time, of course, for me to fondle those delightful titties yet again.  This goodnight ritual, which was also followed by her older sisters, was respected by the rest of the family such that if one of them needed to come into the hallway to go upstairs or into another room, they made some noise opening the door, took time over it and did not turn on the hall light.  So we did not let the possibility of such a polite 'intrusion' trouble us much.  One night, as well as enjoying those lovely breasts, I slipped a hand down the inside of the top of her skirt and panties.  Once again she did not stop me or protest, but did make sure her back was to the living room door.  First came the excitement of contacting her pubic hair, then I reached her slit and ran my fingertip up and down it.  Her body trembled and wriggled with pleasure.  Quite quickly, her lips parted, then I touched her vaginal entrace, ran up to her clitoris, then back down again and repeated. Almost instantly, she became very slippery and was clearly loving every second.  I discovered she was able to enjoy this stimulattion for many minutes.  So that also became a part of our goodnight ritual.

Not all that long after, one night when I was again touching her, I felt her hand inside my trouser top, moving down.  She did not go inside my underpants, nor do I remember her touching my cock, which as always was hard and throbbing.  But somehow she quickly brought me to ejaculation.  I had, as so often, missed the final bus home, so had to walk a couple of miles with semen-soaked underpants.  It was far from the last time that I did so, but much more exciting things were to come after we had married in April, 1960.