Seduced to sex

Seduced to sex Seduced to sex

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica



Sometimes getting laid for the first time takes some planning



Sometimes getting laid for the first time takes some planning


Submitted: August 13, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: August 13, 2016




Looking back I’ve always wondered when one becomes truly sexualised. I don’t mean puberty, or at least that’s not how it worked for me. I mean wanting sex, really desiring sex; the feeling of a guy’s finger on your clit and cock in your womanhood. That came much later for me. I suspect I was at least 18; maybe a smidgen later.


I’d gone out with Aron since I was 14. One of those all consuming – although never consummated – teenage passions.


Over the years I suppose you’d say our relationship had been comfortable. I was a good enough looker to increase his status at school and he was enough of a stud to seem like a keeper to my young self. At school, we were regarded at an ‘it’ couple. But as I got older I recognised that he didn’t really rock my boat; a bit too jock in his attitude and a bit dim to boot. I didn’t really love him as I felt I should nor did he set my loins on fire.


The issues that had started to develop with our relationship had been hidden for a while as I focused down on the final HSC year at school. I was nothing if not an intensive swat and determined to get into the best law school. Aron just had to wear me not having much time for him for the critical 18 months.


As the pressure valve of study was released by my finishing school, what I discovered within me was that newly sexualised self. A sense of desire and need far exceeding anything I’d felt before. And yet with that came a realisation that Aron wasn’t the right man.


From the outset of our relationship it had been physical, in that innocent puppy love sort of way. We’d pashed like teenage lovers do. But he’d never got to touch me, at least not where it counts; if you know what I mean. Now I was older and free of study burdens, he wanted a pay-off for his waiting. He wanted a lot, lot more. We’d argued about it. But as I planned my exit from the relationship, it hadn’t felt right; in fact it felt downright risky. The best he’d got was a feel of my nipples through my swimwear in the six months before we’d broken up.


So there I was in the strange situation of wanting sex and yet not wanting it with the man I was with; not least of all because I knew that would just make the end of our relationship all the harder. But it went beyond that; physically I just didn’t fancy surrendering my body to him whatever needs I felt.


The breakup was difficult. We’d been together a long time and it was half way through my first year at Uni before I’d got the courage and determination to pull the trigger and announce it was off.


He hadn’t taken it well. For six months he was still trying to get me back; constantly calling and visiting me to talk me into rekindling our relationship. I needed time out from stressful relationships. I wanted a relationship without commitments; to play the field; to find physical intimacy and sexual satisfaction in the context of a respectful, caring human relationship without all the burdens that went with it. I wanted much more than a lustful hook up but something less than another committed relationship. Maybe in retrospect, I wanted more than I was entitled to.


Uni had provided a seeming smorgasbord of males and once I was morally free of Aron I became more receptive to the invitations that came my way.  The first one I’d accepted was from Tim. I’d shared a class with him and he was both attractive and nice. As I got to know him better I was starting to become quite physically drawn to him; even started to fantasise about us both together.


The first couple of dates were just conventional, get to know you, nights out together. Given I saw a fair bit of him at Uni, I’d spaced them out to make sure things didn’t seem to be rushing to any commitment.


The fourth proper date was a toga dress ball at Uni. We were both wearing mini length shift style togas; mine with a barely there off the shoulder top worn braless. Late in the night as the band played slow tunes we were dancing arm in arm. We’d both had a few drinks; enough to reduce inhibitions without being too drunk. As we’d danced to the music I’d pushed my crutch into his and as I’d swayed against him I’d felt his partial boner slip under the hem of both our outfits so that it was rubbing on the crutch of my panties.


It was still all quite innocent. It was his undies rubbing on mine. But it was more than I’d ever allowed to Aron. And, I found it quite arousing. Far from pulling away from it, I was using it to pleasure myself. And his body must have noticed that, because the boner was getting bigger and harder. 


Then he put his mouth to my ear and whispered “Am I allowed to fall in love with you?”


I don’t know why he put it as a question, but the answer was definitely no. It put a dampener on the night as I had to pull away from him and explain that I’d just broken up from a relationship and I wanted to play the field rather than get involved with someone. What I didn’t have the courage to tell him was that didn’t mean that I wasn’t interested in sex. He took it as a message to back off; our dancing wasn’t as close and the goodnight kiss and cuddle in the car at the end of the night was no more than the usual formality.


As spring moved towards summer he’d redefined and accepted his role as friend, occasional date and pash provider. The barrier that had jumped up at his mention of love had subsided. But that left me unsatisfied. To put it crudely, I wanted him for his companionship and his body and I was only getting about one and a third of that. Of course, I should have just made clearer what I wanted, but I had my own inhibitions about that. And while the option was there to treat Tim as a false start and start all over with someone new, the fact was he was still the one I fancied most.


On the date which really started all this, all I had on was a thin, deep vee’d, halter necked mini sheath dress worn braless.


I’d noticed over dinner that he’d found the generous cleavage display somewhat distracting. I’d known the dress would have that effect when I’d chosen to wear it. While he’d kept his hands and eyes more under control than I could reasonably have expected, I could read in his gaze a raw physical lust for me that I’d never seen before. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and pupils dilated and his conversation distracted as he struggled with controlling what I knew was his arousal.


Whatever he thought the rules were, I could sense that I’d managed to ignite a physical desire for me that was very likely manifesting itself in his pants. Aching to look under the table to see if my hunch was correct, my own body was responding to my perception of his arousal. He may not have been able to see the moistening of my crutch, but there was no doubt he could see the tightening of my nipples as they pushed out the thin material of my top.


In a different sort of relationship we might have been deeply into flirtatious conversation by now. Tim had a great sense of humour and a good line of banter and in most areas we could keep each other amused for ages. But the night of the toga party had crushed his sense of risk taking by Tim where our relationship was concerned; verbally or otherwise. And I was too shy or reserved to be the one to instigate it.


Even that night as he’d lent in to kiss me goodnight in the car, he hadn’t gone the grope. It must have been so tempting for him. Just a little higher and his fingers would have found an easy path under the soft material of the top’s triangle to a nipple already making its presence visibly obvious.


As his right hand moved across to my left flank as we started pashing in the front seat of his car, it - and the forearm that followed it - slid across the underside of my left breast. It was nothing more than that. No contact with a nipple; not even with bare flesh.


Instead his forearm had followed its usual path along the base of my breast as his hand circled my flank. But the bare skin of his forearm sensuously slipping past the sensitive, sparsely clothed flesh of my breast had electrified me. I knew his action had curled over the inner edge of my top just enough to risk a nipple exposure. I oh so wished he’d gone the grope and stimulated my nipple.


Most other times we’d finished the night with a kiss and a cuddle in his car before he walked me to the door of my parent’s house. Nearly every time that same movement across my chest had held me closer to him as we kissed.


This time was different. This time it set off a fire in my body and brought on an instant lady boner so powerful that, as we sat there tongue wrestling, I was consumed by lust and a physical desire for him. I wanted him to go the grope on me. I wanted him to break out of the considerate, respectful mould that had typified our relationship – especially after that talk -  and treat my breast, indeed my body, as the sexual object that, for the first time in my life, it really yearned to be.


In a way, I’d originally chosen Tim to be the one I unleashed my sexual needs on because of a sense of sexual attraction to him. His raising of love had caused me to pull back for a while. It was as if, now that he’d passed his probation period and accepted his reduced emotional status, my body was telling me it was time to get on with it.


I arched my body towards him, lifting my hips off the seat as I almost consumed his face with the passion of my kissing. As I turned towards him I rubbed my breast against the forearm in a way that rolled the triangle of the top off my nipple. Tim couldn’t see it because we were kissing, but there was a naked nipple resting on the top of his arm; hard, enlarged and sensitive. And it was being moved by its owner back and forwards just enough drive her crazy with desire.


As I squirmed under the force of sexual pleasure and desire, I knew my mini skirt had ridden up high enough to expose the top of my panties. Tim had me bare breasted and nearly as bare pussied. Very likely leaving a puddle in the seat of his car, I was wishing to hell he’d stick his hand down somewhere. But he was completely oblivious to it.


Treating me as a mere sexual object wasn’t like Tim; especially when he was being so careful to obey the friendship rule. I knew I’d have to plan his seduction.


My first serious attempt was the following Saturday, when following a long, hot and sticky shift at work, I’d invited him over for a late afternoon swim in our family’s pool on a day I knew my parents would be out for a good few hours.


I’d organised it with Tim the night before and then spent a good few hours in bed fantasising about how I’d make it happen within the boundaries of what I was willing to instigate. Realistically I figured it would be easy enough to get him pashing me in the pool, but the real action would probably happen on the lounge in the pool house afterwards. That after we got out, I could instigate us drying each other off in increasingly intimate and arousing ways until; well, you know.


I planted a box of condoms there in preparation – while the pill might take care of the baby issue, there was also the question of VD’s - figuring I’d work out later how to explain their convenient presence when the time came.


But other pool based fantasies had also kept me awake that night. The most powerful had me sitting sprawled naked and legs apart on the top step of the pool when Tim emerges from the water between my legs, water cascading off him in impossible quantities like the god Poseidon in an ancient Greek movie. The water pouring off his stomach is being diverted from a vertical drop by something that it hits in its fall that causes it to spray out almost horizontally but for the moment is hidden under the torrent. As the water clears, that something is revealed to be a giant rampant erection which Tim then proceeds to drop between my legs to penetrate me with before making passionate love to me.


I nearly climaxed just thinking about that.


When he arrived, the tiny bikini I greeted him at the door in already had him bulging out his pants in a partial erection before I finished giving him a hello peck on the cheek.


He followed me through the house and out into the back yard towards the pool house behind the pool. The view I gave him all the way of a wiggling bottom, bum crack emerging from my low slung bikini, did nothing to settle the erection.


As I officiously pointed out the table I was suggesting he put his gear on, I put my left hand in a friendly manner cupping his right shoulder blade while I pointed across his chest with my right arm; brushing my breast across his biceps and my right arm across the hairs of his chest as I did so and then innocently dropped my arm until it accidentally (or not) collided with the bulge of his erection.


The movement was enough to complete the process of both our arousals. As much as he tried to hide it, his quickly grew to be vertical; bisecting the centre seam of his pants, the thin material of which was moulded around it. Mine might only have manifested itself externally in some very obvious nips but the reality was it was no less than his. I’d invested a lot of fantasy into this hook-up and my body was already getting ahead of proceedings.


Moving back to the edge of the pool, Tim dunked a toe in, feeling the temperature. When he winced as he pulled it out I wasn’t going to risk him declaring it too cold. Cruelly I gave him enough of a shove to put him off balance; making him straighten out and dive forwards into the water. Then I followed with a powerful horizontal dive; steering myself deep to traverse the bottom of the pool as I trailed in Tim’s path.


The water pulled forcefully at my tightly tied bikini as I entered it; threatening to undress me. I felt the top triangles tugged downwards, the raised nipples dragging sensuously through the cool water barely still sheathed in their Lycra covering. At the same time a flow of it permeated the bikini bridge of my pants and down through my crutch, pleasuring me as my long blonde tresses brushed against my back. I was enjoying the caress of the water, of its play with my body as I glided inches from the tiles lining the floor of the pool.


Opening my eyes I saw Tim gliding ahead but not quite as deep as me; his erection pulled downwards by the friction of the water as his cute little bum was highlighted by the cut of his pants.


When the momentum of his dive wore off, Tim rose back to the surface, standing up where he stopped. Still stimulated by the water’s embrace and caress of my body, I frog stroked past Tim’s legs towards the far end of the pool. My heart was racing at the thought of the erotic play ahead. I’d already planned to take a breath and bounce off the far wall to swim back underwater towards Tim, letting me emerge upright into his arms.


What confronted me as my head emerged at the end of the pool made my blood run cold. Aron was standing there wanting to have yet another deep and meaningful. He’d seen my and a strange car out the front. The trouble was that Aron had a much better idea of my intentions than Tim did. Aron and I had spent many a hot day pashing in the pool. It was where he eventually got to feel up my nipples.


“The pashing pool” my friends called it; with good reason. The reason was simple. I liked my pashing to involve minimal clothes; on him or me. With Aron, letting him undress me from ordinary clothes, or undressing him, was fraught with issues of controlling the process and confusing messages when I was trying to manage his sexual expectations. Plus that left us in underwear; something I wasn’t happy with.


The pool however involved swimwear; we both came pre stripped. Sure we could, and did, also do it on the sand at the beach. But that tended to leave the erection, which inevitably started pushing out his pants, obvious to all the world. In the pool, as long as he swam a few laps before exiting it, even mum and dad sitting there at the time didn’t know about it (or so I naïvely thought at the time).


It’s why the default starting point with Tim was in the pool on a day my parents were out.


The thing was the bikini I was wearing – bought for this occasion - was made of something less than a third of the material of anything Aron had seen me in before. It was ultra low riding – as in my bum crack and a bikini bridge across my mound were permanently exposed however high you hitched it - and had truly tiny triangles. Just to wear it I’d had to do a major job on my bikini line and then trim short whatever remained so it didn’t bulge out the taught material.


It was intended to tease Tim to action. As he stood on the side of the pool, looking down at me in the water as we talked, I could see Aron completely focused on the giant nips pushing out the thin material in the cold water. Alarmingly, I could also see he’d grown a partial erection in his pants.


The trouble was Aron could clearly recognise that another guy was being set up to cut grass he had always regarded as his to cut – even if the other guy was oblivious to that fact; and as a result of my trimming, there wasn’t much grass left to cut anyway. At the very least he was determined to drag out matters enough to frustrate my plan for the day.


Tim had at least wisely decided it was better to stand back and let me deal with the issue; awkwardly occupying himself with swimming laps and then standing off in the far corner. Aron was more needy and sulky than aggressive; but if Tim had intervened he could quickly have arced up into a rutting stag.


Eventually, to bring the thing to an end, I had to get out of the pool and walk Aron back to the gate as I talked him down; feeling vulnerable in my near naked state. This sight was never intended for him. Now I was out of the pool, he had the full view. There was a deep camel toe in my pants, nips pushing out my top and plunging views down my bum crack and the bridge across my mons that exposed parts of my body he’d never even glimpsed before.


As we walked, he kept stopping as he asked a question; bringing a pause in the walk and a face to face stance that let him check me out once again and feed more testosterone into the full boner pushing out his pants.  I knew it was killing him. He always had thought my body, my virginity, would be eventually his for the taking. But it wasn’t. It was mine for the giving, and he could clearly see that I was lining up to give it to someone else.


All I could really do was gently repeat the mantra I had gone over with him so often. “It was over. You have to let go.”


By the time I got back to Tim the mood was gone. The day was rapidly cooling, I was feeling stressed, Tim was unlikely to feel comfortable making a move on me after seeing my previous boyfriend all but crying in front of me and my parents could be home any minute. We dried and I had to content myself with teasing him with that same view of my body that Aron had just torn himself apart with as we had a cup of tea in the dying sun of the pool house. Then I gave him a full frontal hug as I kissed him goodbye; subtly resisting his attempt to move what he thought was his own embarrassing boner away from contact with my stomach; foolishly thinking that might hide its existence.


The next attempt at seduction was a week later when I invited Tim over for a home cooked dinner on a night my parents would be out late.


If I don’t go into the details of the delightful dinner conversation, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It’s a large part of why I was so drawn to Tim. But I know that’s not what you’re here to read about.


Dressed in a halter mini offering no less access than the one I started this story in, after dinner I’d manoeuvred him onto the couch where we lay down pashing; me on my back, him half over my left side with his left hand across my body stroking up and down my right hips and upper thigh. The trouble was he was still being too respectful. I expected him to nuzzle down into my breasts and expose a nipple with his lips while the hand on my thigh lifted my dress up. But he was doing neither. His lips remained firmly attached to mine and his hand was careful not to dislodge or move anything as it crossed the bottom hem of the dress.


After a while I decided to get up and top up our wine glasses. This time as I lay back down again I gently separated my legs; trying to move the right thigh out of his reach. It worked. As we re-engaged, Tim, without realising it, brought his hand down on my inner left thigh.


The hand moved slowly up until its progress was stopped by an unfamiliar barrier. I could sense a hesitation; like he was trying to work out what he’d come up against and after the penny had dropped, whether it was OK for it to be there.


If he had any doubt it was resolved by the fact the erogenous contact had excited me and I instinctively pushed myself harder against him as I kissed him more passionately. Encouraged, he slid his fingers up and down the line of my slot; stopping to feel out my anatomy through the flimsy material of my panties. Loitering over the core of my womanhood, he pushed his finger gently in, rimming the opening and no doubt feeling my arousal and how damp that made the material of my panties.


I shivered with the pleasure he gave me; mewing gently into his mouth as I kissed him more passionately.


After a short while he tentatively brought his fingers up to the hem of my low rider panties, slipping a finger under the hem, testing for any objection. Still getting none, he pushed his fingers in deeper, pulling the hem down to let his fingers make flesh on flesh contact the full length of the slot until he again come to the opening to my womanhood. Then slowly, hesitantly, he penetrated me with his finger; first one, then a second, slipping them in and out, each time drawing out copious lubricating fluids.


His right hand had been under my neck. Now I felt his fingers feeling for the string tie to the halter top, find it and pull the bow; releasing the knot. Then his lips parted from mine, bent down to bite the triangles of the top and peel them off my breast. I gasped as he started gently sucking a nipple; teasing it up before taking it fully into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.


The nipple was exquisitely sensitively to his touch. This was way better than anything that Aron had done through the material of my bikini top. I was surprised by just how arousing it was. Realising from my groans and sighs of pleasure the extent of the liberties he had with my body, by now his fingers were rubbing firmly up and down against the front wall of my tunnel. My whole body was lighting up to his assault on its erogenous zones.


I’d never masturbated, never climaxed and had never before felt what this sort of sexual contact felt like. It was wonderful; almost made me regret not using Aron for sex even as I planned my breakup with him. But I also want more. Tim was focused on my tunnel. I desperately wanted him to rub my clit instead.


His mouth separated from my nipple and came up to my ear.


“Would you like me to make love to you?”


How Tim like; almost quaint in its expression. By now Aron would have been ripping my clothes off and pouncing on top of me; leaving it to me to hold him back if that’s what I was going to do. It was why he hadn’t really been allowed to get to second base; I couldn’t trust him not to take it as a home run. It was what I liked about Tim.


But still, I can’t say I wasn’t nervous about going to the next step. I had no compunction against letting Tim know about my inexperience.


“The only problem is I’m still a virgin.”


The next moment took me back a bit and certainly by surprise. In the most gentle, understanding voice, I heard…


“That’s OK, so am I. We can leave it at that.”


With that he dropped his head back to my breast and started playing with the other nipple; all the while his fingers working inside me.


“No, no, no, no!” I’m thinking, that’s not what I meant.


I hadn’t really planned for this moment. I suppose I just thought that any guy over the age of sixteen had somehow magically already lost his virginity; that they somehow knew what to do and would take control. It’s not that I was disappointed he was a virgin – I was actually rather pleased and certainly solved any condom problem. It’s just that I wasn’t sure how to dig myself out of the hole I’d just found myself in (and if you like to play word games, fill the now throbbing hole this night was meant to be about).


Of course, I should have just said “But I’d like you to make love to me.” But on the spur of the moment, confused by where we’d got to, I didn’t. Stupidly, maybe I thought it sounded too slutty; that there was a moral distinction between mere almost reluctant consent on the one hand and encouragement or asking on the other; especially where I was trying to hold him at bay emotionally.


Oblivious to either the confusing thoughts running through my head or my clit’s increasing demands for some direct contact, Tim was still just working away on me. My body was responding. Neither the heavy breathing nor the groans and rolling about were anything other than natural. It’s just I knew I wasn’t going to reach a climax or get myself actually fucked this way tonight.


As for Tim; I knew he had a raging erection in his pants. But that’s the point, it was still in his pants. Not so much as a button on his shirt had been undone yet. It wasn’t meanness or selfishness that stopped me from undressing him; just a slut fearing reticence to be too forward and a concern I’d distract him from pleasuring me. Was he supposed to undress himself or was I? And once again the need not to give any permission for emotional involvement held me back.


I wanted him naked, but wasn’t, in my inexperience, sure how to get him there. I just hadn’t released my passions enough to undertake that clothes ripping undressing of him you see women do on TV; usually with the guy pushed up against a doorpost. I just hadn’t really thought through where this night was meant to go.


Time was marching on through a night not lacking in eroticism or new experiences but which looked like lacking that ultimate fulfilment for either of us. Eventually the point came when my parents were due home and time was up.


When I mentioned them, Tim took it as a hint it was time to go; helping me get up off the couch and straighten my clothing before I again gave him a full frontal hug; rubbing myself up and down on his erection for good measure.


Frustrated, third time lucky I figured as I’d invited Tim to join me for a weekend with friends at Gosford; camping for the night at Bouddi National Park. As far as Tim knew it was a group camping weekend; with the slight complication that one of the other friends had designs on me, so he had to play it cool.


Three cars were planned for the eight of us; with Tim and myself in Tim’s car. But as the plan developed, one by one everyone else dropped out of staying the night; leaving just Tim and me. With the campsite pre-booked, I was more than happy to spend the night there.


On the Saturday we frolicked about Brisbane Waters in hired boats and then onto McMaster’s Beach for a swim. Then as the day wore on, everyone else announced they needed to get home leaving just Tim and me heading over to the camping ground to set up camp.


If Tim thought it was all very strange, he played a straight bat; as if it was nothing more than a camping trip with eight friends had turned into one between two mere friends who just happened to be of opposite genders and would be sharing a tent. And in a way they were the rules I had originally given him. I just hadn’t told him yet that the rules for the night had changed.


The camping ground was a fairly primitive one down at Little Beach; accessible only along a three quarter kilometre walking trail. A small grassed site, with long drop pit toilets in clean enough cubicles down the far end and a central gas BBQ shelter. Apart from that, you were on your own; with everything else, including drinking water, needing to be carried in.


We’d managed to secure the camping spot nearest the water, so set up our tent facing out to sea.


All the walking, carrying and setting up the tent had worked up something of a sweat, so in the absence of showers we stripped down to swimmers to go for a quick dip in lieu of any other method of bathing.


Perhaps Tim’s first hint that this night would be about more than friendship came when I started frolicking with him in the water; initially pushing him over and splashing him, which let him respond in kind. That set up an escalating cascade of tactile physical play that quickly left Tim with a major boner in his pants, which I was even bold enough to grab hold of momentarily as I teased him about it before playfully pushing him back over in the water and falling on top of him.


As we exited the water, that left me in the brief bikini I’d worn that day in the pool and Tim in his boardies.


The day had been muggy and warm, so I figured if I just stayed in my bikini as we then went about cooking dinner on the central BBQ, Tim would too. In any case, since the bikini seemed to induce an something of an erection in him every time he was near me and I was wearing it, I doubted he want me to change regardless.


Mind you, while there were only a couple of other campers at the site, the bikini did also seem to attract the males of those groups to come and want to cook their dinners at the same time as us. The BBQ had been empty when we started and seemed to have every male in the camping ground around it when we finished. Maybe it was coincidence; but I doubt it, especially since they all seemed keen to strike up a conversation and I’m sure I saw something of a bulge in the pants of a couple of them.


The warmth of the BBQ made sure we were completely dry by the time we sat down on the grass out the front of the tent to eat our dinner; a vista of waves gently lapping up onto the beach in front of us. As we finished our meals, I tided up the plates and topped up our glasses of wine before repositioning myself between Tim’s knees; my back resting against his front.


Really until this moment, Tim had been pretty well following the “friend” script he took as inherent in my invitation for the weekend. Sure, we’d frolicked and interacted in the water before dinner in a way that had left him with a major boner, but there’s been no face to face cuddles or kisses.


But as I sat between his legs and rested back on his chest, I’d placed his free hand – the one not holding the wine glass – on my inner thigh. As we sat there chatting, his hand slowly slipped down my thigh, all the time giving me opportunity for an objection that never came. Eventually it rested firmly and arousingly against the crutch of my bikini. Mind you, I wasn’t the only one aroused. His boner was sticking into my back.


Again after allowing time for objection, he turned his hand around and started stroking his fingers gently up and down along the line of my slot; at first doing little more than rimming its lips and then increasing the pressure so that he folded the material into the slot and was stroking along its floor.


As before he tested and rimmed the opening to my womanhood and found it already reactive to his touch. But this time he then traced up my slot and felt out my clit; sliding his finger across the top of the already engorged nub and then circling around it.


Satisfied he’d found the right spot, he softly rubbed it up and down. It wasn’t just the feel of it that told him he’d found the right spot. As he first rubbed his finger across the top of it, I’d involuntarily laid my head back over his shoulder and mewl’d a soft moan of sexual satisfaction and pleasure. As he rubbed it up and down, that had grown louder as I squirmed about.


Alarmed by the strength of my reaction and concerned my physical response was indicating he was doing something wrong, he whispered into my ear –


“Should I stop?”


“God no……..But I think we’d better go into the tent.”


When he started fingering me, I’d thought, based on last time, that I’d experience a slow sexual interlude as we romantically sat watching out to sea. A hand down the front of my pants and another inside my bikini top would be the only evidence of what we were up to. If it was followed by proper sex in the tent all well and good; but what I had pictured would make a good start


But his discovery of my clit has changed all that. It was exquisitely sensitive to his touch; provoking a response bound to draw attention. After the first unexpected reaction from me, I’d tried to suppress it; to be a bit more subtle in this public setting. I wasn’t even sure I could, but I immediately worked out that just trying was going to distract from the fun.


The tent wasn’t going to reduce the noise. I’d worry about facing the rest of those in the camp site in the morning; secure in the knowledge they wouldn’t be the first neighbours to complain about the noisy sex of others and that at least I hadn’t seen any kids about. But in the tent we wouldn’t get arrested for public exposure.


We somehow butt walked our way backwards into the tent with me still between his legs and without him even taking his hands out of my crutch. I quickly fumbled to get the tent zip done up at least enough to stop a gust of wind exposing us.


As he relocated that swollen little nub, I let out another slow mournful groan and lay back across his left leg; sprawling myself out, legs apart, on the mattress almost bucking about to his touch. To stop his leg from being crushed and knee broken, he more or less had to lay down alongside me and turn towards me to extract it from under me.


More confidently than last time, he lifted his fingers up and slipped them down inside my pants. The first flesh on flesh contact brought out a little squeal of delight. Keeping some part of his finger or hand in contact with my clit, he slid deeper, slipping a couple of fingers into my wet tunnel and drew back over my clit a flood of lubricating fluids. 


Determined this time to reciprocate his pleasuring of me, my hand blindly fumbled about until I found the elongated bulge in his boardies and wrapped my fingers around it, the thin stretchy material letting me fully encircle it. His erection surged to my touch and I could hear a sharp intake of his breath signalling his own burst of pleasure.


His free hand picked apart the tie strings of my bikini top and then he contorted his arm to pull the tie sides on the pants as well; leaving the tiny pieces of material lying slack across me. Bending in, he pulled the top off my breasts with his lips before taking a nipple into his mouth and swirling it with his tongue. At that moment, what had been a slow gentle touching over of my clit became a firmer faster rubbing.


I arched up and squirmed from side to side with the intensity of the pleasure; all concern about neighbours forgotten as I moaned ever more loudly. As if almost to pin me down he put a leg across my stomach to support himself as he leaned across to sloppily tease up the far nipple. As he lifted the back of his hand, he flipped off the front of my bikini pants, leaving me completely naked and exposed under him.


I wanted him naked too. The hand encircling his cock found the drawstring of his boardies and pulled the knot, then opened up the front so I could peel it down off his erection. For the time being, pinned as I was under him, that would have to do; although as I re-embraced his erection, I sensed him lift his bum up and slip the boardies around his thighs with his spare hand.


Crossing over the arm he had buried in my crutch, I pulled his shaft across my stomach and started jerking him off.


It was almost as if he could sense the state of my growing arousal as he adjusted the pressure of the finger on my clit; increasing it progressively just enough that I could never escape the almost unbearable pleasure, my body rolling and moaning under him. Every so often he’d dip down to my tunnel to bring back another flood of lubrication, its slipperiness intensifying even further my building climax.


As my orgasm broke my whole body was infused with a burst of uncontained ecstasy. I almost threw him off me, as my hips arched into the air and swayed about; my hand clamping his into my crutch where he continued to stimulate my clit and prolong my climax until I couldn’t take any more and crushed his fingers against me to bring their movement to a halt. At the same time I’d voiced my pleasure deafeningly; too high pitched for a groan, not sharp enough to be called a scream and unmistakably the sound of a sexual climax. All eyes would be on us around the campsite in the morning.


As the last waves of my climax finally subsided, I started jerking him off more vigorously until he too groaned loudly in my ear as I felt his cock pulse and ropes of cum land on my stomach and shoot over me to create a damp patch on the airbed next to me.


For a moment our passions were spent. I was on my back, legs still spread apart. As before, he was lying along me on his side, his knee over mine. His hand covered my crutch like some self-supporting thong, while mine encircled his cock. The rock hard flesh I’d been jerking off had gone a little softer, but its length and circumference had barely diminished; almost like it wanted more.


As his other hand stroked my hair I contemplated what should come next. Endorphins were flooding my body, stirring up foreign emotions. I felt incredibly close to him; didn’t want him to move from my side or stop the gentle path of his fingers through my hair. But nor did I want him whispering words of enduring sweet love in my ear.


As he moved his head towards mine I panicked a bit. But all he did was kiss my cheek and then rest his head silently next to mine.


I was at a cross roads. Tim had me pidgin holed as a perpetual virgin. He wasn’t going to make a move on me. This could be a night of endless fingering orgasms, but if I was going to get fucked, if I was going to discover what real sex was like, I needed to be the one to make sure it happened.


Maybe for five minutes we lay there unmoving. Then the fingers I had around his cock were forcefully pushed out as it fully re-engorged. I’d been distracted before but was somewhat amazed by how something which could be so floppy could turn into something as unyielding as hardwood.


The time had come. I built up my courage as I turned over to lie full frontally on top of him; smudging his cum across both our stomachs in the process. This time it was my turn to whisper in his ear.


“I’d like us to make love. I’m on the pill so since we’re both virgins I’m happy to go without a condom if you are.”


I pulled my head up to see how he was reacting. I couldn’t read his face. I even had a moment’s concern he might call me a slut or reject me; even just criticize my suggestion we didn’t need protection. Instead he looked me in the eyes.


“That would be wonderful.”


I’d had a long time to think this through since our last encounter. I had a plan. I figured I could lie on my back and let him take me or I could go on top and control things. I’d decided the latter was the way to go. I’d read enough to know a woman’s more likely to achieve climax that way and it just seemed to give me more say about how I was penetrated for the first time.


I sat up straddling his stomach and then left a smear of lubricating juices down his front as I slipped down until his erection bisected the line of my slot; throbbing arousingly against my clit. The first thing I needed to do was get rid of those boardies still binding his thighs. Twisting back over my shoulder, I slipped them further down his legs until he lifted his knees up, letting me slide them right off.


Reluctantly, given the pleasure I’d extracted from some subtle movement on that throbbing cock, I then slid back onto his thighs.


For the first time I got to look at a naked male erection. I knew I wasn’t the first virgin girl to think it looked enormous. It was probably just the standard size, but to my innocent, virginally fearful eyes it looked improbably big. I didn’t see how I could fit it in and worried about its outsize length spearing through the top of my cervix. But I’d braced myself for that reaction.


The reality was it had a purpose and I had a matching part that met that purpose. Nature intended it to work.


I reached down and first put my hand over the top of his erection. A surge of power ran through it, pushing it upwards into my hand and lifting the erection up off his stomach; a dribble of clear fluid leaking from the top of it. I watched as the bell on the tip flared; widening and flattening its face. For a strange reason, it reminded me of a frill necked lizard extending its frills when challenged; but brought to mind a mental image of the flared, flattened tip being used to mash his seed into my cervix as he came.


All that reaction for a mere touch. How was it going to react to what I was about to do to it?


Holding his erection up vertically, I lifted my crutch up then slowly brought myself down onto it. My body wasn’t resisting it. I was well lubricated and aroused despite my fears. But I did feel it stretching me as its unfamiliar circumference pushed itself in; separating the folds and opening me up. I was thankful I was on top and in control and so able to take it easy. I was no less thankful Tim wasn’t trying to jerk it up from underneath. He waited patiently; letting me set the pace.


When I was fully penetrated, I lay back down on Tim, my legs outside his as I enjoyed him stroking my hair with one hand while he played with a nipple with the other. I was taking my time; wanting to make sure I fully adjusted to this unfamiliar presence.


Then I straightened out my arms and lifted my chest off his; starting to rub my clit up and down on his pubis while I moved him in and out of me from a full deep penetration to about a half one. Tim in turn lifted his head to suck a nipple while playing with the other one between his fingers.


The experience was intense. Perhaps a well lubricated finger on my clit in some ways felt better, but the whole body experience of physically immersing sex raised the pleasure to a new level. The indescribable ecstasy combined with the physical exertion meant I was grunting loud enough to wake the dead with the same ear piercing not quite scream, not quite groan at the climax. Tim had gone off with a grunt and a couple of banging thrusts into me a minute or two before I finished, leaving me working on a rapidly softening cock until it slipped out and I was rubbing my clit up and down on its slippery wet residue of an erection; him squirming under me because of how sensitive it had become post climax.


In those final moments when he’d filled me with his cum and then slipped back out of me, a combination of his cum and my juices had flooded onto his pubis and smeared itself through my crutch, leaving everything from our stomachs down to our thighs damp and sticky by the time I collapsed exhausted onto his chest.  Somehow that just didn’t matter. I lay there completely spent, letting him stroke my hair until we were both ready to drift off into a deep sleep; at which point he rolled me over onto his side.


Cuddled together, we slept with the benefit of nothing more than our shared body heat; naked and uncovered. It was fortunate it was a benign night; neither too hot for such close contact nor unbearably cold. To the extent we felt a chill during the night, we just pushed closer together and put an arm across the other.


I for one was reluctant to give up this first moment of physical intimacy with a man. Our sleeping bags hadn’t been prepared, and in any case retreating into them would be an isolating act; it wouldn’t be the same as a double bed. Even the tiny, sexy little nightie I’d brought along stayed in my bag.


It may not have been a sound sleep, but that seemed like a reasonable price to pay for the experience. And compounding that was the thought I’d have to put Tim on hold for a bit after this to keep him emotionally at arm’s length. Tonight had to be a good one because the next would be some time coming.


Because that was the thing with the game I was playing. My physical needs had grown well beyond pashing or even having sex. I was craving physical intimacy and lots of it. But that was something impossible to get while holding the guy at arm’s length emotionally.


Tim seemed to sleep with a permanent boner, pushing into my stomach or back, or into my bum crack, whenever he was sleeping facing me. Mind you I was rarely lacking a lady boner either; or at least as much as I could tell from my waking moments.


Mindful of the self-imposed drought that would follow this night, twice during the hours of darkness the sexual tease became too great. While we lay face to face, I slipped Tim’s erection from its indentation in my stomach to between my legs and into my body; the full depth of his penetration being achieved by him slipping his hand around my bum cheek and pulling me into him. I’m not sure what I expected the first time I instigated that. In my sleepy state I don’t really think it was full on, pussy pounding, sex. It may even have been to fall back asleep with him there.


But what Tim did was slip his hand down between our bodies and tickle up my clit. It was a completely different sensation from the sex we’d had earlier. The feeling of having both my womanhood filled by his manhood while at the same time getting my clit tickled up by the stroking of his fingers instead of rubbed down on his pubis was beautiful.


Then he compounded all that by contorting down and sucking my nipple. As we lay there side by side, he brought me to a slow gentle climax; mini thrusting me to keep his own erection at its peak.


I had tried hard not to make too much noise. Being pinned in place by his shaft discouraged me from bucking about too much and at least this time I knew what to expect in terms of the sensations. But there was only so much I could achieve. While for the most part I managed to tone it down to a constant moan, the ear shattering squeal I made on orgasm sort of undid any good I did on the path through. I still woke up the whole camp site.


As my contractions bound down on Tim’s shaft, he increased the tempo and length of his thrusts until he found his own climax. Then we lay there pinned together by the residue of his erection until I soon fell back into a deep sleep.


What happened after that has always been for me one of the more erotic mysteries of the night. After he came, Tim certainly softened, but like before, there was enough length and rigidity that he wasn’t in immediate danger of falling out.


As he’d come, he pushed himself hard into me and as he’d relaxed from that thrust after his orgasm, I put my hand over his hip and pushed our pelvises together firmly enough to indicate I was in no hurry for him to withdraw. I decidedly remember before falling asleep that he reinflated into a full rigid boner.


When I next drifted into wakefulness I was still pushed firmly against a sleeping Tim. There was a sticky, bent erection pushing into my lower hip; like it had grown there in our sleep and not had anywhere to go. There was also a sticky mess on my thigh. It took nothing more than a slight separation of our hips for the erection to spring back into the position where it was pushed into my stomach.


Reflecting on it during another drowsy moment of wakefulness later in the night, I decided that the only possible explanation was that being bathed in the pleasures of my vagina for sufficiently long had induced another discharge by him. After that he’d gone flaccid, fallen out and then grown another night erection.


If he’d just withdrawn, his erection would have gone back to bisecting my stomach and not ended up jammed where it was. If he’d thrust himself to a climax it would have woken me up.


I found it quite erotic to think our bodies had conspired to produce an orgasm like that and initially retained that as my narrative of what happened; not really wanting to discover otherwise.


The second time was more or less a repeat of the first, except this time, after he’d brought me to a climax, Tim finished by rolling me over on my back putting his legs outside mine and thrusting gently on top; all the time staring intently at my breasts in the moon light.


With all the night activity, we awoke relatively late for a camping trip. It was after 8 and the sun was already bright and high in the sky.


I woke first to find Tim on his back with a boner bisecting his stomach. Even though it was sticky from our night’s activities, I couldn’t help playing with it; picking it up and letting it flop hard back against his stomach. It only took two of those to wake him and attract his attention.


As he rolled over towards me for a good morning kiss, I put him back on his back and rolled on top of him, snuggling against his chest. I was playing an unfair game; acting like a lover but prohibiting any love. But, as I said, I had physical needs, not all of which revolved around having a shaft up my pussy. Intimacy was important too; and it was something I had been desperately missing since I’d broken up with Aron; and really even before that.


We stayed like that for about 10 minutes; drowsing in the early morning sunshine streaming through the light tent material. But then a mere snuggle turned to stroking, stroking turned to petting, that turned to pashing and the next thing we knew we were hot and ready for sex again.


Having discovered the joy of penetration combined with fingering, I sat up on him cowgirl style, again lifted my hips up and lowered myself onto him. I was lifting myself up and down by flexing my knees, but at first Tim didn’t get it that I wanted him to finger me; probably taking a rocking movement at the end of every down thrust for my attempt at self-stimulation.


Brazenly, I took his hand and, isolating a finger, indicated what I wanted. Tim took the hint; although he quickly found his thumb offered a less contorted angle of approach to sliding a digit between his pubis and my crutch as it moved up and down on his shaft.


I decided that in this position, I’d found the best of both worlds. Without access to the flood of lubrication Tim had drawn out of my womanhood when he’d first fingered my clit, maybe the feeling there wasn’t quite as uncontrollably intense. There was still room in my sex life for mere fingering.


But he found enough; especially when his thumb penetrated down to where his shaft was plunging in and out of my body to draw more back onto my clit. The feeling of him inside me on the other hand was more intense. I was able to bring a lot of pressure onto the front wall of my vagina; making me think I’d be able to discover my g spot, even if trying it first thing in the morning without peeing first was hardly ideal.


No longer constrained by a fear of waking people up, I felt strangely free to give vent to my pleasure; the physical effort required to bounce up and down on him simply exaggerating the noise.


As I leaned back my breasts were bouncing up and down just out of Tim’s reach. Desperately wanting to add their powerful stimulation to what I was already feeling, I contorted my body; bending at the stomach to angle my pelvis back while bringing my breasts forward and lifted his spare hand up to the right one. Taking the hint, Tim tweaked the nipple.


For five, maybe ten minutes I built this growing tidal wave of an orgasm; all the while being unable to contain a rising crescendo of short high pitched groans. My knees were burning with the effort even as body felt on the edge of exploding.


I couldn't hold it back any longer. My hips started jerking back and forwards as my stomach and thighs clenched into a knotted ball. At first I let out a single throaty cry as my orgasm overwhelmed me.

The orgasm seemed to go on forever; for as long as I made fast short bounces on Tim’s shaft; crushing his fingers under me each time but in the process pushing them against my clit in just the right way all the while doing whatever I was doing against my g spot or whatever else it was in there feeling so good as I pummelled Tim’s shaft with my contractions.


Every bounce brought forward a cry of pleasure which is difficult to describe. Like “Ooh, arrrrr”, with the “arrrr” delivered in a prolonged high tone, all delivered at a rapidly rising rate and volume like someone hyperventilating. I remember it so well because I was making such a spectacle of myself; something I knew at the time but was powerless to contain.


I’d thought I’d explode; felt completely out of control. My parts were becoming exquisitely sensitive, calling on me to stop stimulating them while not having the will power to do so. Finally it became too much, letting my body bring a trembling halt to the whole runaway process, leaving me collapsed over Tim, panting madly.


Gently, Tim bound me to him with one arm, while stroking my hair with the hand of the other, making sure my orgasm had run its full course and letting me recover. All the while, his erection was filling me; surging a bit, penetrating me as deeply as Tim could get it.


Once he was certain I was ready, Tim tipped me off him, so he could roll over on top of me while locking our bodies firmly together with the unyielding shaft inside me.


Then, with his legs outside mine, he lifted himself up on his arms and started thrusting. I don’t know you could call it pounding – Tim was probably too gentle for that – but it was vigorous and had a sense of power about it. I could feel he was experimenting with different depths of withdrawal to see what felt better for him; fairly quickly settling for something down the shorter end. He seemed to like to keep himself deeply penetrated.


Now in the full light I got an even better view of his visual obsession with my breasts as he thrust. His eyes were so focused on them I could just stare up at his face, secure in the knowledge we weren’t going to have any of those awkward prolonged eye to eye staring contests.


He was wearing this look of intense concentration; grunting noisily with his physical efforts. Only when I started inducing my breasts to wobble by magnifying the effect of his thrusting on my own body did I get a variation in his expression; a momentarily raised eyebrow and a faster rate of thrusting telling me he liked the effect.


At the end of each thrust he mushed his pubis against my mons; very effectively duplicating the movement I’d done on top the first time to stimulate my clit. My erogenous zones were already fully sensitised; what he was doing was working like a treat.


Soon thoughts that I’d just enjoy him finishing his own climax inside me turned to another building orgasm of my own; a rising series of deeply felt moans communicating that to Tim and joining his grunts in a synchronised chorus. Tim had shot his bolt early the first time we’d had sex. His endurance had grown a little longer each subsequent time. I was surprised he’d lasted this long; but now I was really wishing he could go the full distance with me.


Once he realised what he was achieving, he started doing a little double or triple mash at the end of each thrust to try and increase my own rate of stimulation.


I knew he was going to cum when his face turned from one of deep concentration to one of a man experiencing the most intense pleasure. His mouth formed a little ‘O’ as he stared up into space. His body froze as if trying to hold the moment of pleasure just a little longer. Then, as he let out a prolonged bellowing groan, he thrust hard into me and held it there as his cock pulsed and his ropes of cum flooded my cervix.


Once, twice, he thrust again and groaned yet more as if his body had discovered another squirt of cum to unload into me. Finally he collapsed down onto me. In the next few moments, several times, his whole body shook and he let out a little moan of pleasure; seemingly as he wrung out every last drop of his seed.


He rested for a minute, lying on top of me in a mutual silence. Then without saying anything he rolled me off him, withdrew and fingered me to complete my orgasm, sloppily alternating the stimulation of my nipples between his lips and slurping up his drool with his tongue.


No longer pinned by his shaft, my body was free to finish with that same bucking, hip arching, sway through the air, squeal out loud climax he’d given me at the start of the night.


Exhausted, we lay back in a silent pause until Tim started to giggle. It was contagious. Even as I rolled onto my side, dug him in the ribs and asked him what he was laughing at, I got the giggles too. I knew the answer to my question; that strange contrast between the dignified, insular at rest human and the wild, out of control, animal like coupling in which they engage.


I had just put on a performance no amount of coaching would let me duplicate even the vocal side of on stage. And yet, even as I did it, I was vaguely aware every person in the camp site could hear it.


Eventually we needed to get up and exit the tent. I can’t say I was looking forward to it. There was no doubt we’d attracted attention and now we were going to have to show our faces and pay a price for that.


But I was dying for a pee and we both were covered from chest to knee in dried yucky sticky cum and other bodily juices. I’d never realised or thought about the fact that sex was so messy. We decided a quick dip in the ocean was the solution to both problems.


I was almost reluctant to put my lovely new bikini on. It just felt like I was too disgusting to taint it that way. But it was way too public out there for a skinny dip.


We stopped and looked at ourselves after we put our swimmers on. The dried fluids didn’t just feel bad, they were visible; very visible; especially on my less clad body. Both Tim’s and my pubic hairs were completely matted in the stuff and I could feel it right through my bum crack and front slot. Tim’s boardies hid the worst of it on his body, but around my thighs and on my lower stomach were big globules of the stuff. It might have been good for a laugh in the privacy of the tent, but we didn’t really want to engage anyone in conversation on the way to the water. So we decided to do the old exit and sprint; Tim first, me second.


I was in the water in record time; nearly overtook Tim in the process and tackled him into it when he hesitated getting wet as he hit the cold water. I wasn’t taking any chances on getting caught. As soon as I was wet, I wiped my hands over all the yucky areas to get the gunk off.


Then I slipped my bikini pants down to my knees so I could have a good pee. It might have made it a little more obvious to an outside observer what I was doing, but I had grown rather fond of that bikini and its effect on men. Plus it let me make sure I cleared all the gunk from under them as well.


As I settled in the water after adjusting to the cold and both cleansing and relieving myself I came to realise that nearly every person in the campsite was focused on us; especially the men. As we started to exit from the water, someone up the back of the campsite started clapping. They were quickly joined by nearly everyone else. There was little we could do except blush and wave at them.


As we sat outside the tent having breakfast it seemed like a good percentage of the men in the campsite found an excuse to walk past and say hello; most coming up with some variation of the question of whether we’d had a good night. Normally that’s an innocent enough question, but the raised eyebrows also made it obvious they already knew the answer.


While I could be bemused at the power I derived from the bulge that universally formed in their pants as they perved down at my bikini clad body as they talked to us, I had good reason for avoiding a prolonged conversation. I was just starting out on a law career. I didn’t want to find in ten years’ time that one of them was a client who recognised me. 


It was really only on the walk out I realised I was suffering from various aches and abrasions from the overuse of parts that weren’t used to it. A small price to pay.



Fifteen years, two children and a loving marriage later these events are still powerfully erotic memories retained in all their detail. When work worries keep me awake at night they are still capable of settling my mind and giving me a giant ladyboner. Somehow just about all subsequent sex fades into an amorphous mass of sexual memories, lacking details, even if they were just as intense. Not these. My husband has on several occasions been the beneficiary of their effect as I found a need for my arousal to be converted to action.


Perhaps only the time shortly after that Tim did get to do the Poseidon act on me as I sat naked and spreadeagled on the top step of the pool matches that. And while the water cascading off him as he emerged didn’t manage to emulate what Hollywood special effects can achieve, the fact the emergence followed him licking me to a hip rolling orgasm more than made up for it. That and the second orgasm he gave me as he fucked me to his own climax on the step.


But Tim is not my husband; was never likely to be. Our relationship collapsed under its own contradictions after about a year. After a period when he’d felt his access to me had been rather severely rationed, supposedly because I was busy with my studies, he reacted rather too petulantly when I told him I’d be away for the whole of the holidays with another guy. I in turn responded by finishing the relationship.


Somewhat blindsided by the whole thing and feeling he’d not been rewarded for his patience and understanding, he too had trouble getting over it. For the second time I had to go through months of “You have to let it go” conversations; complicated by the fact I kept bumping into him at Uni.


And to be fair, he had been blindsided. I had been continuing to use him to meet my sexual desires. Of necessity, that had been sparsely because I’d wanted to keep him at bay emotionally. He knew I was dating other guys, but implicit in our continued non-use of protection was the fact he was the only one I was sleeping with; in effect my tier 1 male friend.


To simply be told that I was going on a lengthy holiday with another guy conveyed a whole lot of implications that I hadn’t openly dealt with. Really, I should have just been fair and terminated our relationship when I realised there was another guy I might be more open to emotionally.


Still, time passes and wounds heal. By the time Uni was over, we were friends again in a passing acquaintance sort of way.


I bumped into him a few years ago and we’d shared a coffee. He’d apologised for his nuisance behaviour after our breakup, said he’d always been ashamed of it, and when I apologised too, said I had nothing to apologise for. That, he said, had been the deal he’d signed up for.


With the confidence of maturity and each with our own strong marriage, he admitted that he’d polished up his knowledge on female anatomy between the first and second times he’d undressed me; which explained his vastly different performance. I’d always wondered about that.


In a way I was dying to ask him about the mystery withdrawal after our first night encounter. But apart from such a question revealing to Tim the detail in which I’d remembered the night, there was another reason I hadn’t. That little mystery had grown an erotic narrative of its own in my memories of the night.


Without any fixed reference facts, it could become whatever erotic story I wanted it to become; and there were no shortage of them.


Maybe contractions from my own night orgasm had pummelled Tim’s erection into a release. Maybe I’d laid pinned to him in our mutual sleep by his great throbbing cock for hours before it had exploded into a discharge, following which the sticky soft flaccid flesh had stuck itself to my engorged clit, gently stimulating it with the rise and fall of our breathing. Or maybe even as I slept Tim had pounded me into multiple hip arching orgasms.


 OK, the last one might be a bit improbable. Had I been drunk or drugged it would even have been illegal; but in this case I’d surrendered my pussy willingly to him while fully awake.


That’s the nice things about mysteries; they’re not bound by any rules of science or practicality.


The last thing I’d want to find out is that Tim had withdrawn a few moments after I’d drifted off to sleep because he had a cramp in his lower elbow. Mind you the possibility of a guy pulling a full erection out of the warm embrace of a donated vagina with no way back in for that reason is even less probable than me sleeping through the aforementioned pounding.


Sometimes knowledge is not always a good thing.


Would the memories have been even more powerful if I truly loved the person I was with? I don’t know. Maybe; it probably does make a difference. But you still need the right sequence of events however much love is involved.


I was lucky to discover that I had wonderfully sensitive erogenous zones and a willingness to let myself go to enjoy them. I’ve never had any great problem climaxing if they guy even half did the right thing. But still, the way things happened that night made a big difference. After all, for many, if not most girls, their first time is anything but memorable in a good sort of way.



Even though completely out of character, the decision not to care about how much noise I made certainly helped; indeed, I discovered later in life it was crucial. It got rid of that internal conflict about really getting into it. When, with the arrival of children in our house, I needed to tone it down, it just wasn’t the same.


But I have to give Tim credit for being a good first time partner even in his own inexperience. He knew how to finger me and was willing to do so without pushing for more. He also let me take complete control of my first penetration; which meant I never seized up through fear.


I never regretted it wasn’t Aron. I’d had a long relationship with him, but it had grown stale. Plus I can’t help suspecting he’d have been too focused on the home run to spend the time Tim spent on third base; or worse would have wanted to act on the hints I’d already had that too much porn had left him with obsessions about anal and oral. And maybe my husband too, even though we have a great sex life now, might in the early days not have spent enough time on the bases around the pitch before running for home.


It’s better not to contemplate changing the past. 




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