She was comparing herself now, at age thirty-one, to the Joanne who had accepted her first fuck at sixteen, in the backseat of a car. Where else? Wasn't that the traditional American defloration spot? She hadn't even guessed how typical it all was as she allowed her formal to be lifted, her panties, to be dropped by her date, the foxiest guy in the whole school. She'd never forget how it felt then, holding his cock in her trembling hands. Not the first cock she'd ever gotten a feel of, but the first time she had ever made up her mind that this would be it, that this cock would be the first one to plunge its way into her molten cherry center and break the seal of her virginity. Excited? God, yes! Turned-on? Wow! She was sure, at the time, that she'd climaxed almost at the moment that pecker rammed up her pussy.

But what did she know about coming then? Only what she'd learned from her finger, or a date's finger, playing with her pussy. No. Nooo! She had only been starting to become a woman, and something told Joanne that it wasn't finished, not even now. She still had so much to learn.

Something new every day. Or so it used to be. Before Tom cooled off.

She couldn't put her finger on just when it had started. She could, however, put one finger on her left nipple and another finger on her clitoris, and she could nib them in unison while the spraying water cascaded over her body in refreshing tingly needles, and that's what Joanne was doing. Sometime around the first of the term now in session. After New Year's, certainly. New Year's had been great. They'd gone to a party hosted by one of Tom's colleagues in the English department, but they'd sneaked away, into one of the bedrooms, and had a crazy passionate fuck under a pile of coats, excitedly conscious that at any moment someone might walk into the room and discover them. God, how she'd come that evening, full of his driving dick!

The change had been subtle, so subtle she didn't know it was happening until it was almost an established fact.