Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Please enjoy my new story! You might pick up a reference to an earlier piece, ‘George and Ryan’, which you are welcome to read. As always, a vote or a comment is appreciated.

*******

Let’s kiss, then!”

Kathleen had taken a great gulp from the wine bottle she was holding and lurched toward him. As she closed in he could see from the corner of his eye, his two friends leap backwards with a yelp.

Kathleen was tipsy and excited. They all were, after their concert. An hour and a half of singing great music, in the concert hall and under lights, with an orchestra adding to the crowd on stage, had taken them to a point something like ecstasy. As was usual after a concert, there was a party, with snacks and drinks, music, silly songs, drinks, more drinks… it could be a long night. It was also usual, after so much emotion on stage, for couples to get very romantic together. And not just couples: individuals, ex’s and not-yet’s, someone who’d caught your eye weeks ago – anyone – often found themselves in positions and combinations that surprised themselves and everyone else.

However, Kathleen was different. Quite reserved (yet with a loud voice), even prudish, she was shocked by the shifting relationships in the choir and the “pre-marital sex” as she described it with her trace of Irish accent. She was opinionated as much as she was prudish, she was also quite poor at recognising how annoying she could be. People could find her very tedious and were sometimes quite rude behind her back. He felt a little sorry for her – then at other times he felt very annoyed with her.

Now here they were, in a foyer at the university which had hosted the concert. The party was in a Union building, one of the common rooms that clubs could book for events like a concert after-party.

He was tipsy too, excited by the euphoria after the concert, pleased with how well the concert had run, maybe feeling generous and expansive… for whatever reason he didn’t run away or push her off him. He let her kiss him. He thought, out of kindness, maybe also to shock and impress his mates – Kathleen was not considered worth “pursuing” by the lads in the choir. The two friends had made their opinion very clear just before!

She leant against him, arms on his shoulders, unfocused eyes looking into his face, her wine bottle tapping his back. He sensed a slight hesitation, an uncertainty, then she kissed him. It was wet and unsteady, her lips pushing too hard, inexperienced. She tasted of white wine.

She kept kissing, between hasty breaths. He noticed something build up in her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her hands gripped him. Her soft, plump body suddenly pushed against him. As he put his arms around her waist he felt her legs against his, pushing, spreading? She tried to squeeze him harder.

He remembered another time, one evening, another party – not so charged as this after-concert one. Kathleen was in the habit of getting drunk quite quickly. Sometimes she got even more opinionated and loud, sometimes she got into intense conversations that didnt make much sense and had odd pauses in them. This time she was watching a couple on the couch. They were kissing passionately, stroking shoulders and each other’s backs. It wasn’t that unusual for what happened at parties, although far beyond Kathleen’s limits of acceptable behaviour. This time however, she watched intently, without judgement (he was sure). When the boy stroked his lover’s neck and she responded, or if a hand crept round a waist and explored the curves below, she took in every detail, as if she was observing something to learn from. Or perhaps he was just over-thinking it.

“Hey Ryan, we’re going back to the party. You think you’ll be alright?” His friend, who had mocked at first, was not so rude now. He had sensed a change – they all had – and was now vaguely puzzled. The quick trip out to the toilets had become something much more for all of them. Ryan guessed he was trying to be supportive, just in a very drunk way. Kathleen pushed harder.

He noticed then that his body was starting to respond to her. His arms were around her and his lips were answering hers, trying to soften her urgent kisses. What was going on? He let himself kiss her more. The friends disappeared.

Kathleen paused, then kissed harder, then paused, then kissed again. He managed to settle her slightly, so things were not so frantic. He could feel her body moving against him. He felt her legs, wrapped around his leg. Something hard was there – her pubic bone was up against him now. The realisation sent a surge through him. She gave a small, deep moan.

She paused again and tried to focus on his face. She pulled back slightly and took a drink from the wine bottle. Then she put her lips up to his ear.

“Ryan, I want you to fuck me. Here. Tonight.”

Ryan froze. Although his body was responding to her advances, his mind wasn’t. This changed things. He drew back to look at her.

“Kathleen, bodrum escort bayan did you just say… what I think you said?”

She winced. “No. I don’t know – yes!” He could feel her steeling herself, forcing the words out. “All the people here… snoggin’ all the time, at rehearsals an’ all… the concert… the feelings at this party. I’m drunk but I’m standin’, and I’m thinkin’ still, and I’ll tell ye, I want ye to fuck me!” Her Irish accent became more pronounced as she drove on, so that she said an almost sweet, lilting “fock me” by the end of it.

“I know I can piss people off, but I can’t seem to help it. I reckon you’re the only one who’s always been nice to me.” Ryan felt a twinge of guilt at the thoughts he’d sometimes had about her. She fumbled for the bottle but spoke before she could find it. “Everybody’s always on about sex. The songs, the movies, the internet, and look at ’em in there!” She waved the bottle towards the partygoers. “So I want to see what it is. I want to do it. I want to have some sex!”

Ryan’s mind was in a whirl. A part of him was urgently calling, oh yeah man, let’s do this! Make the most of it! Take her before she changes her mind! Another part was trying to work out a place or a time. Another, higher part was saying, wait a minute, you can’t just take advantage of her, what sort of guy are you?

His body had made its mind up already and nearly derailed his thoughts.

“Kathleen, it’s not that simple…”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Ye think? I know, I know. It’s all mad, but I’m going to do it. Now. This has to be tonight, and no more, and I know I might get myself in a hopeless tangle and fall head over heels for ye. There’s another few girls here who’d like to get to know you a whole lot more, judging by their conversations. And there’s a few you’re interested in, and I’m not one of ’em. But I reckon you’re pretty keen on anything in a skirt?” Although she was drunk, she was very accurate with her assessment of the situation – and himself. He warmed to her.

She rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel her breath, panting slightly. He could feel her warmth, her pubic bone against his leg.

She looked up at him. Her vision briefly cleared and she looked into his eyes. “It’s tonight. Just tonight. I have to start sometime, and I know you’d be good to me, you’ll know what to do to… help me. Just tonight. Please, Ryan!”

Ryan paused, feeling her body’s arousal (and his own), seeing her openness, her simple request.

But it’s never that simple.

For an answer, he took her hand and led her away from the main room. Down two corridors he found the room he was looking for, unlocked. It was rarely locked: it held only a meeting table and chairs, and a few couches at the back. He went for the couches.

He got two three-seater couches opposite each other, then pulled the cushions off them and filled the floor space between them, making a padded area about the size of a double bed. The couches stopped the cushions from separating. Kathleen was impressed.

“You’ve done this before!” She smiled.

“I may have!” he returned. He gave a shove here and there to check his workmanship.

Kathleen stood, rocking very slightly. She looked at the couch-bed, looked at Ryan, took a swig of white wine then carefully put the bottle down.

“Kathleen, if you’re not sure about this…”

As an answer, she stared at him, then lifted up her skirt, showing large, sensible black panties. Still looking at him, she slid them down and stepped out if them. She flicked off her shoes. She sat on the edge of the couch and swung her legs over in a surprisingly smooth motion. The effect was slightly spoilt by her losing her balance and sliding down into the bed with a whoosh.

Ryan looked down at her as she arranged herself on the bed. She flicked up her skirt and spread her legs. He took in her small feet (still with socks on), her tapering calves, her pale, generous thighs meeting in a triangle of dark brown curly hairs. She spread her knees wide, put her fingers into her bush and crudely pulled her pussy lips wide open. The pink against the dark brown against the nearly-white surprised him.

Again he felt the contradiction. This girl was literally lying there waiting for him to enter her – part of him shouted c’mon man! She wants this!! But against this, he had a sense, this is not really what she wants, she’s making herself do this. The uncertain look on her face confirmed it. Fortunately the higher part of his mind won again.

Kathleen watched every action as he slowly stripped. He stepped into the couch-bed and gently closed her knees.

“Kathleen, OK just tonight, and no complications. But not so fast. You have to enjoy it too – I don’t want to take you in a rush and go.” He made himself cuddle her, and was rewarded by the feel of her snuggling into him, soft legs and tummy and breasts against his lean, slightly yalıkavak escort bony frame. He started to undo the buttons on her blouse.

Kathleen froze a second, then eagerly joined in, reaching around to undo her bra even while lying down. Big white breasts rolled out and settled themselves on her chest. Her nipples were almost the exact colour of her pale skin, the barest shade darker. Alec stroked and squeezed them. Kathleen watched his actions again, occasionally rolling her shoulders to show her approval.

Her nipples hardened to little hemispheres and he leant over and kissed and nibbled them lightly. She was getting into it more and now thrust them up for him, one then the other.

“That’s better!” Ryan whispered. “Stay there.”

He wriggled himself down her body. He tugged at her skirt and she reached for the zip and unfastened it. The skirt went down to her feet. There, he pulled off each sock and lightly bit each toe. Her feet had the smell of someone who’d been standing for most of a concert – as did her armpits and body. He didn’t let himself be put off – this was for her pleasure as well as his. And I probably smell the same, he thought with a smile.

Kathleen was taken aback and jerked her legs up. He gently but firmly brought them down, then kissed his way up each leg, tickling behind her knee (she jerked again and laughed a funny, deep laugh), then up the top of her plump thighs. He could feel little wriggles of pleasure in her. She ran her hands through his hair.

“Ahh, Ryan, I knew ye’d be good for me! Everywhere you touch feels good!”

“Keep telling me that. If you don’t like something, you have to say.”

“If I can still talk!” Kathleen became more urgent, gripping his head and forcing her legs apart. The scent of her rose up, a mixture of the old sweat and a new arousal. He studied the mat of curly hairs, tapering away beside each side of her pussy. Peeping out of the lips was a single flap of shiny, moist skin. It was almost cute. He wanted to play with it, feel it in his mouth. Kathleen flexed her thighs and pulled his hair one way and another. She seemed to be guiding him in, but pushing him off at the same time.

“Do you want me to…”

“Yes, but you won’t like it! I feel, funny down there…”

“Not just aroused? Anyway, let me be the judge of what I like!”

He slid his hands along her thighs and noticed how wet she was. Not wet – drenched. Her juices were down her legs and around her buttocks. Her skin shone in the dim light.

Ryan slid into the sticky hairs, separating the folds inside. Her pussy was open again, this time bigger and softer. Inside the outer lips, her inner ones revealed the little hood over her clit, above her vagina. Her juices were everywhere. Alec reached in with his tongue and lightly stroked her inner lips, playing with the extra long one. He felt her rocking her pelvis, then suddenly tugging on his hair. He looked up to see her anguished face.

“Ryan, I’m sorry, I, don’t want–

Ryan lifted his head. “Don’t be sorry, just say it. I’m glad you told me. “

“God I’m so sorry, I just don’t… and I’m worried what you’ll think.”

He made his way back up to her face. “I’ll think, she doesn’t like it, so I should respect that. This is about the two of us, not just me getting my rocks off on you. Don’t mix up those bad pornos with real sex, will you!”

Kathleen blushed, but didn’t answer. Ryan could tell she had mixed them up. Time to lighten the mood a bit, he thought.

Playfully he kissed and nibbled her ear. She shrugged and laughed her deep laugh. He played in her pussy, making her wriggle down there as well. He scraped his teeth along her shoulder and up her neck, while his fingers found their way between the folds of slippery wet skin, stroking and stretching and rustling the hairs. She revelled in all the sensations, while her own hand, which wasn’t sure what to do, stroked her leg and his own.

Ryan himself wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to make Kathleen happy. He was pleased to be offered the sex, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his “responsibility” to her… should he lead the way somehow? She was asking him, pleading with him to be her first, but she was drunk. Was he feeling pity for her? Besides, he was drunk too. The other voice said, fucken get ON with it man! He was confused.

He thought of his own first time, at a party at someone’s house. He wasn’t expecting anything to happen, when suddenly it did. He had been flirting with a girl, who told him to “chase her”. He did, really for the fun of it, again not expecting anything. Then she took him into a bedroom. He could still recall the excitement and anxiety as she took off his clothes. Then the care she took when she realised she had a virgin on the bed. He would never forget it. And now it was his turn.

Kathleen interrupted his thoughts by pulling his head down onto her chest. He realised gümüşlük escort he’d tuned out briefly. He looked down her pale body, over her large, rolling breasts, her soft tummy with its deep belly button to her wide hips and legs. It was a figure you’d never see modelling a bikini or stiffly propped up in a store window, but Ryan saw it could be sexy. Her legs rose and fell with her mounting excitement. She was unconsciously rocking her hips, or clutching him. He realised she was leading him in a way, squeezing his hand with her thighs, then opening to give him more of her. When she twitched her chest her breasts rolled around in random ways. He enjoyed all her little movements.

She was breathing harder now and her skin felt warmer. One hand roamed over her body or rested on his hand as he worked her pussy. The other was behind his head, fingers locked in his hair, pulling hard, almost painfully. Little, deep sighs were coming out of her. Her arousal was turning him on. He was remembering the pleasure of having a girl coming in his arms.

Kathleen was now tensing up and quivering for short bursts. Her eyes were screwed shut, her mouth was open, her free hand pushing at her breasts and pinching her nipples. Suddenly she bucked her hips up and froze. Her breath stopped. Ryan could feel her vagina pulsing under his fingers as her orgasm stopped everything else.

“GggAAAAhhhhh!” she finally gasped, followed by her deep laugh. She lay there, gulping air. After a short while she looked over at him.

“Jayzus, I’ve never come like that before! It feels almost too much!” She untangled her fingers from Ryan’s hair and tugged at him, trying to pull him across her body.

“But I want you inside me! While I still feel so wild!”

She reached across to her crumpled skirt and found the pocket. Ryan hadn’t even realised skirts could have pockets. She pulled out a condom and gave it to him.

Ryan smiled. “Y’know, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m glad you’re prepared.”

“Ah that. Well, truth be told, the little machine in the toilet’s what’s got me to here. I took it for a sign. Now put that on and fuck me!”

Condom on, Ryan knelt above her wide-open thighs. He brushed his cock up and down against her slick pussy lips. He saw a flash of concern on Kathleen’s face.

“Kathleen, you can still say no if you want…”

“Really? That’d be acting the maggot, for sure!”

Ryan guessed what that meant. “Yeah, maybe, but that’s what consent’s about. You can say yes, or no.” His cock was just inside her lips and nudging up towards her clitoris.

“Well I want you inside me now!” She gave her deep laugh as she lightly touched his shaft. “And since you’ve already started you may as well finish me!”

She opened her inner lips and guided him in. He took it very slowly, easing into her tight vagina. Kathleen looked surprised. She frowned.

“Are you OK?”

“I don’t know. You’re stretchin’ me wide open, it feels. It hurts, but I want it. I think.”

She was so tight. Alec carefully pushed in, then retreated. He thought of George (never Georgina!) who handled him the first time, so gently. Then so wildly. He wanted to be gentle for Kathleen – he hoped he could manage it. Gently and slowly, in and out.

Kathleen’s hands were on his shoulders, when she suddenly clutched him, pulling him down and pushing her face against his shoulder. Almost with a start he realised he was all the way in, pubic bone to soft, furry mound. He could feel her fingers pressing Into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Kathleen?”

“I, I say yes.”

His cock started a rhythm of its own accord. As he slowly thrust in and out he heard and felt her intake of breath against his ear, in sync with his movements. He kissed her neck and she looked at him. She had a soft, faraway look on her face as she gazed at him. Her soft, plump body shook slightly as his cock slid inside and he bumped against her.

She stared intently. He recognised the look of her taking in every detail. She ran her hands around his shoulders, then down his arms as he propped himself above her. She held her breasts as they jiggled in response to him. She ran her hands down her sides and up her wide-spread thighs. She stroked her own legs, then his as she reached underneath.

Ryan felt cool fingers touching his shaft. He smiled to her. He looked more startled when he felt the fingers cupping and squeezing his ballsack. A devilish smile flashed on Kathleen’s face.

“Well well, just hangin’ there for anyone to find!” She gave a low chuckle. “Don’t they get, y’know, injured?”

“You learn to be careful. Or very trusting.”

Her face softened at that. The fingers kept exploring, fondling one testicle then the other, or feeling the fine skin holding them both. Her hands came out and rested on his hairy buttocks, feeling the muscles flex with each thrust. The fingers went back under and paused to feel his cock as it spread her pussy lips and slid between them.

“So this is it. So this is sex,” she said in wonder. “Well, fuck me!”

He paused deep inside her as they looked into each other’s faces. They both laughed at the same time. That classic comment of surprise took on a new meaning.

As Ryan laughed, he also felt the squeeze.

“Mmm, that felt good,” he murmured.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

It was Thanksgiving and Caroline was jogging in the park. She had turned eighteen the day before, her parents were throwing a big party that night, she finally had her license and she had a nice boyfriend. Though he had come on a bit strong last night, she remembered, as though eighteen was the magic number and she’d dive into bed with him. She liked him well enough, but wasn’t really ready to start an active sex life. Interested in starting one, yes, but not just jumping in because she’d turned eighteen. “Let him wait while I sort my feelings out,” she decided.

She heard feet approaching from behind and glanced around. Another jogger coming up from behind. She’d seen him around, actually knew him slightly. His name was Ashleigh and he was considered a bit of a brain. She’d never seen him out jogging before.

Ash pulled up beside Caroline and fell into step with her. Noted the irritated look she gave him as she increased her speed to draw apart, but only grinned and matched her pace easily. The next look had changed from irritated to a glare.

“Stupid oaf. What’s he thinks he’s doing?” fumed Caroline. “I do not need some guy hitting on me while I’m jogging.”

“Back off, please,” she requested, determined to keep civil if she could.

“You’re Caroline aren’t you. You turned eighteen yesterday and your boyfriend is Brad. Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and ask if Brad has won his bet yet.”

Caroline felt confused. “Bet? What bet? And why should she know if he’d won it or not. Only one way to find out,” she decided.

“What bet, and why would I know or care if he’s won it. He gambles too much anyway, and I wish he’d stop.”

Ash seemed confused. “How could you not know?” he asked. “It has to be you so you must know the details, surely?”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you give me some details?” she asked, getting irritated by this idiot.

“The fucking bet, OK? Ah, pardon my language, won’t you.”

“You’re still not making any sense. And I don’t mind the language so what fucking bet are you talking about? Do you think you can explain in plain English?”

“You turned eighteen and today is Thanksgiving. Yes?”

“Ah, yes?” Caroline was definitely puzzled, but a little squirm of anxiety was niggling at her mind.

“You know Brad bets with, Hymie? Runs a tab there?”

“So I’ve heard,” she replied, disapproval plain in her voice.

“Well, I was just wondering if he has managed to win his bet fast enough to win the full $50,000.”

“He’s bet $50,000,” she screamed. “What does he have to do to win that and how am I involved?”

“Off course he hasn’t bet $50,000. He’s got some good odds, but the payout drops a thousand a day from now to Christmas. If he doesn’t win by then he loses and has to fork out another $5,000 on top of what he already owes Hymie. He arranged it as a sort of holiday bet. Hymie’s a sucker for holidays. He reckons they earn him a mint.”

“BUT WHAT IS THE BET?” Caroline asked, through gritted teeth. For someone reputed to be smart he could sure talk a lot without getting to the point.

“I told you. The fucking bet. He has to pop your cherry before Christmas. The faster he does it, the more he wins. He reckons he’s on a sure thing.”

“What?”

“There are a few side bets going amongst some of his friends, I believe. They’re offering odds on when he scores. That’s why I was asking. I know some of the guys betting and was just wondering if there were any winners yet.”

“And,” asked Caroline, in a gentle voice, “just how will they know when he’s won? I can’t see Hymie taking his word for it.”

“He’s got that covered,” came the cheerful reply. “He’ll be taping it and he only has to show Hymie the video. Hymie says if the video is good enough, he’ll buy that as well.”

“Are there any other bets floating around?”

“Some tried to bet on your virginity or lack thereof, but no takers. Everyone reckons you are.”

“I see. What if someone else pops my cherry, as you so delicately put it?”

“Your boyfriend loses big time, but I can’t see him admitting that someone beat him to it. Some ketchup on the sheets would cover that eventuality I suspect.”

“And if he doesn’t get to pop me at all?”

“He will. Guaranteed. Says he will if you agree or not on Christmas eve, because he’s not losing that money due to your squeamishness. You’ll take it and like it, he says.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Caroline asked.

“Just curious. I know he was hoping for a quick win. He needs the money.”

“What for?”

“Pay Hymie what he owes of course. If you hold him off to Christmas he’ll barely clear what he owes. To make money he needs to fuck you as soon as possible. If you’re going to do it, you should do it quickly. He’ll owe you one and he’ll have cash in hand for a nice Christmas present for you. Anyway, has he won yet or not?”

“No, he hasn’t, and I don’t believe a word of what you say.”

“Ask him. See bodrum escort bayan how he reacts. I surprised he wasn’t strong-arming you last night.”

Mentally reviewing the hard come on from the previous night Caroline asked “Why have you told me this?”

“Truth? I like you and I think Brad is an arsehole. It’s only fair that you should know. But don’t get the idea that he’s only trying to sleep with you for the bet. The real prize is you. I’m sure the bet is just the icing on the cake.”

“If what you say is true, which I doubt, it’s pretty rich icing. Go away.”

Ash nodded goodbye, and increased his pace, leaving behind a rather worried Caroline. She’d watch and see how Brad acted at the party tonight.

– – – – –

The party was a hit. Brad was there, more loving than ever and Ash wasn’t. It was strange how she could so easily picture him in her mind. For someone who was supposed to be a brain he looked as though he’d strip well. Caroline realised, what she was thinking and flushed. He was a creep and a liar and Brad was her boyfriend and he hadn’t left her side since the party started. Now that she thought about it he seemed to be all around her, keeping her almost exclusive company and he kept trying to draw her away from the party for what he called a little loving. Maybe she should go off with him for a few moments for a few kisses. She’d just have a word with her mother and then fade out for five minutes.

Brad was satisfied. Caroline was indicating that they’d head into the house for a few minutes. Once there, a few kisses, and she’d soon be ready. Question was, take her now and leave filming until tomorrow when she’d be more pliant, or coax her over to his place tomorrow and tape the actual popping? Take her now he decided. That way I’ll get laid twice.

Caroline headed into the house, her destination the front room, which was relatively private. Brad was trailing along as expected and she turned to meet him as he followed her into the room. Before she could say anything, he was kissing her, hard, using all his considerable skill.

“He’s seems to have had a lot of practice,” came the uncharitable thought. “Odd. I normally enjoy his kisses.”

She felt his hand slip quickly down to her breast and start to squeeze. She tried to push it away, but Brad wasn’t complying the way he used to. “Stop being silly,” he told her. “You’re eighteen and I’m your boyfriend. This is what adults do.” She struggled harder, getting scared now, but found Brad was a lot stronger than she had realised and had no intention of letting her go. His mouth was grinding on hers, and his hand had now dipped down to grope at her pussy.

Caroline struggled harder, but was greatly relieved when she heard her mother calling her from the hallway. Brad backed off abruptly, wishing the woman to the devil. “What possessed her to come looking for Caroline now,” he grumbled to himself, little realising that the quick word Caroline had had with her mother was a request that she do just that. That little niggle of doubt raised by Ash had caused her to take precautions.

“Sorry, Brad, I have to go,” she murmured politely. “Looks like you won’t win the bet today either.”

Brad’s face flushed, and his frustrated fury was easy to see. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarled.

It was evident that Caroline didn’t believe him. “Your holiday bet with Hymie, remember?”

“Ah, sweetheart,” Brad murmured. “I don’t know what you heard but the bet’s not relevant to us. I love you. I just wanted to show you how much.”

“By raping me? It’s not happening today, sport, and not ever as far as I’m concerned.”

Caroline stalked out and back to the party, pointedly ignoring Brad for the rest of the night, and wondering what the hell she should do. She suspected that Brad was fully capable of raping her to win his bet, but who would believe her? He hadn’t actually done anything yet.

She tried to calmly consider her choices. Bed the bastard so he wins his bet and will leave her alone. Wasn’t going to happen. Don’t bed him but chance getting raped if he gets desperate. Break off publicly, but that still wouldn’t stop him if he decided to rape her. Sleep with someone else, but who? A picture of that grinning buffoon Ash popped into her head. She promptly shook it. No, not even if he did have a cute bum. “Which I did not notice when he jogged away,” she told herself firmly.

She decided to go jogging again next morning. Maybe she’d meet Ash and he’d have some ideas. ———- Caroline jogged round the park, hoping to hear someone coming up from behind. She needed to talk to someone about that stupid bet and what she should do. What could she do?

She was relieved when she finally heard that extra set of footsteps, then she faltered for a moment. What if it was Brad? She was alone out here, she realised. She flicked a glance over her shoulder, to see Ash approaching with a smile on his face. She bodrum otele gelen escort smiled and faced front as she sensed him catch up and fall into step beside her.

They ran for a while, relaxing and enjoying the exercise.

Ash was the one to finally break the silence. “Found out the truth?” he queried gently. “What are you going to do?” he continued on receiving her dumb nod.

“I’m not going to sleep with him, that’s for sure. I think the bastard would have raped me last night if I hadn’t taken some precautions. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.” The last came out with a small catch in her voice, which she hated but couldn’t entirely prevent.

“I live just over there,” Ash said, indicating a house on the other side of road. “That’s why I find it so convenient to jog here. Listen, you need to talk and it’s too awkward trying to discuss something like this while you’re jogging, or even strolling in the park. Why not send a message to your parents telling them where you are going and then you can come over to my place and talk.”

Caroline considered the suggestion. As long as she let someone know where she was and who she was with it should be safe enough. Ash seemed a nice enough person, intelligent and friendly. Caroline suddenly found that her trust in her own judgement was shaken. Brad had tried to sucker her. Was Ash the same? Still, the SMS to her parents was his idea, and he wouldn’t have suggested it if he meant her harm, would he? “She really needed to talk,” she decided, “so she’d have to trust him. And be careful.”

They crossed the road and were very shortly in the front room of Ash’s house. Caroline looked around curiously. “Not bad,” she thought, taking a quick drink from her bottle, moistening a mouth that seemed a little dry.

“It’s a nice little place,” said Ash. “I inherited it from my grandfather. I moved in a year ago. Haven’t got around to making any changes yet, but it’s on my to do list.” He reached out and took the water bottle she was holding and placed it to one side. Then he reached out, drew her over and kissed her. Not demanding. Just a gentle brush of his lips on hers, then standing back again with a smile.

“Why’d you do that,” Caroline asked, touching her fingers to her lips.

“Because I wanted to,” Ash replied. “As a matter of fact, I want to do it again.”

Not sure exactly how it came about, Caroline found herself sitting in Ash’s lap, exchanging kisses. Gentle at first, but becoming increasingly more ardent as they both familiarised themselves with their partner. After a few minutes Caroline broke off, and leaned back against Ash’s arm. “How did that happen?” she wondered. “But it was nice.” It slowly registered with her that one of her breasts was comfortably placed in Ash’s hand. He wasn’t teasing it or squeezing, just cupping it and obviously enjoying the feel and weight of it. “He shouldn’t be doing that?” she thought, but it did feel nice. She left his hand there, as the hand on her back pressed her gently towards him for more kissing.

Caroline barely registered the fact that her top and been pulled free from her shorts until Ash broke of contact, then lifted the top up, Caroline to her own surprise lifting her arms to let it go. She felt his hand unclip her bra, and was again slightly shocked at her own behaviour as she shrugged forward to let the straps slip off her shoulder. She watched as his hand moved gently over her breast, enjoying the feel of his hand gently soothing it, stoking and then rubbing the nipple.

Ash started kissing her again, and Caroline forgot about the hands that were now touching both breasts, teasing them and sending little ripples of excitement through her. It seemed only right and natural to her when he bent his head and his lips followed the path that his hands had been tracing. She gasped and turned suddenly toward him, eager to have his mouth suckle on her breasts.

She felt a sudden flush of wetness over the front of her shorts, and was startled, then shocked as it spread across her front, rapidly and coldly.

She sat up abruptly with a squeal, looking down to see a large damp patch that formed after she’d bumped her water bottle and knocked it into her lap. She jumped to her feet, plucking at the damp cloth trying to hold it away from her. She glared at Ash, who was laughing, and saw his eyes travelling over her, appreciating what he was seeing. “Oh my god,” she thought in slow horror, face turning scarlet, “I’m half naked and the other half is on display thanks to that damned water bottle. This is all his fault.”

Ash could see that Caroline was getting upset and hastened to reassure her. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he soothed. “It’s only water, it will soon dry.”

“But if feels horrible, and it lets you see everything,” she wailed.

“That’s easy to fix,” he coaxed. “We’ll just hang them to dry, and I’ll get you something to wrap around yourself.”

Too türk bükü escort her surprise, he reached over and undid the buttons on her shorts and started to slide them down. She gasped, and clutched at them, listening while his voice gently calmed her.

“It’s OK. They’re effectively transparent now so it’s not like I’m seeing something new,” he coaxed, feeling her fingers relax and letting him slide off her shorts. “These are wet, too, remember,” he said and Caroline watched in dismay and quite a bit of unwanted excitement as her panties vanished, joining her shorts spread out on the side table to drive.

“I look ridiculous,” she moaned. “I’m standing hear naked except for my jogging shoes. Where’s the wrap-around you offered?”

“First things first,” said Ash. “Like you say, just shoes is ridiculous.” He reached down and slipped them off for her. “Now you want a wrap-around. And I want to kiss you again. I’d have to go upstairs for the wrap-around, but I can kiss you right here.”

Hand against her back, she was drawn firmly back to him, protesting, but not resisting. The kissing started again, first at the lips but quickly moving down to her generous and sensitive breasts. Caroline found herself pressing harder against him, wanting more. Not sure what more she was wanting but wanting it any way.

Ash continued sucking gently on Caroline’s breasts and nipples, rebuilding the earlier excitement, but now a hand was drifting slowly over her tummy, releasing little curls of excitement as it gently brushed her skin before settling on her mound and cupping it. Caroline gasped at that touch and pushed upwards, wanting a firmer touch which Ash was happy to give. Caroline could now feel his fingers playing, experimenting, squeezing here, gently stoking there, pushing between her lips to the moist interior, slowly igniting her passions, goading her to want more,

Caroline’s own hands were wandering now, moving instinctively over Ash’s body. Tugging his shirt loose and taking it off, regretting the loss of those hands touching her for the moment it took to remove the shirt, welcoming their return while her own hands were wandering over and treasuring Ash’s bare skin.

Caroline could feel Ash’s erection, pressing hard against her side, and found herself divided. Part of her wanted to reach down and touch it, another part nervously backing away. Her quandary resolved, when Ash reached down and pushed his shorts and jocks down, letting his erection spring up, into her waiting hand. Feeling his cock slap against her hand Caroline automatically closed around it, touching it, squeezing it, enjoying the feel of it and wondering what was coming.

Ash lifted Caroline off the couch and onto the rug in front of it. Laid her on her back while lying next to her, hands travelling steadily over her, leaving turmoil wherever they went.

Caroline was breathing hard, still holding and stroking Ash’s cock, relishing the hardness and length, knowing she wanted this inside her. Soon. Her legs had automatically parted when he laid her down, and as she felt him move to position himself between them, she also felt her knees rising, spreading her thighs further apart, eager to give him all the access he wanted.

Ash gently moved Caroline’s lips apart, slipping the head of his cock between them and then letting the lips close over him. He looked at Caroline, only to see that she was looking down at that point where his cock had entered her flesh, fascinated by the intruder that was now invading her, wanting to see it disappear into her at the same time as she felt rising slowly within.

Caroline could feel his cock pressing against her hymen, and gasped as she felt a sting as it broke, giving Ash free access to her deeper being. “He’s popped my cherry,” came the whimsical thought, “and I don’t care. I like it and I want more.”

She could feel him moving slowly in, a steady pressure that parted her vagina, stretched it, slipping through the moist flesh, seeking complete accommodation, which her body was only to anxious to grant.

Only when she was satisfied that he was fully embedded did she transfer her gaze to Ash’s face, to see that he was staring at her and smiling in a teasing manner. She found herself smiling back, waiting for the real fun to start.

Ash slowly withdrew, lingeringly, teasing as he pulled back, only to return, finding Caroline rising eagerly to meet him. Not taking his eyes of her face he continued, pulling back slowly, but thrusting in hard and fast. Caroline held on to him, regretting the withdrawals, relishing the returning thrusts, enjoying the way his cock slipped smoothly over her damp and heated flesh.

Together, they sought and found the rhythm they craved, moving in unison, becoming one, feeling each others joy, rising steadily towards completion.

Now Caroline found she couldn’t see him anymore, her eyes closing, the external world fading from around her, her entire being fixed internally where that beloved intruder was demanding and holding her attention. She gloried in the feelings that he was engendering within her, exulting in being a woman and pleasing and being pleased by her man. Because he was her man now, what they were doing was just sealing the fact. What came after this she didn’t know and didn’t care, but as long as this existed within her she was satisfied.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is the first in a planned series of stories that will document my progression from being an innocent teenage virgin to the 45 year-old cock-crazed cum-slut that I am today. This is generally a true recollection with some minor embellishments.

Constructive criticism is welcome and if there is a positive response to this story I will follow up with some memories of my time at university.

*****

I will start my story a few weeks after my 18th birthday. I had dated various boys before then, but was still a totally inexperienced virgin.

I had started dating a new boyfriend, Alfie, and on our second date he had asked me to fondle his cock. I had felt it press against me when we started snogging on our first date, and I had rubbed my pussy to orgasm after returning home from that night, so I was quite turned-on by his request this time.

As his parents had gone out for the evening, we were in his bedroom having a kiss and a cuddle and I could feel his cock pressing against my thigh through our clothes.

I reached down and stroked the outline through the thin fabric of the shorts that he was wearing. I felt a familiar warm buzz in my pussy as I became bolder in my actions. Putting my hand inside his shorts, I closed my fingers around a hard cock for the first time. I was mesmerized by the way it felt, so delicate, yet so hard. I slowly stroked up and down, but it was still somewhat constrained by his shorts.

Alfie obviously sensed that things were moving forward, and had started stroking my inner thigh, pushing my short skirt upwards as he did so. I had involuntarily moved my legs apart, which he had taken as an invitation to move his hand further upwards. He reached my panties and started to rub my pussy through them. By this time they were very damp. As he pushed the fabric to the side, I felt a man’s finger explore me for the very first time.

So it was that two inexperienced teenagers experimented with each other for the very first time. I pushed his shorts down escort bodrum and stroked his cock faster, interpreting his moans to mean that he was enjoying what I was doing. Whilst I was doing this, Alfie slid his finger in and out of my pussy, not realising that it was my clit that needed to be the centre of his attention. This situation was obviously not going to last long, and as he gave a loud groan, I looked down to see jet after jet of creamy white cum spurt from the throbbing purple head of his cock. He lay back on the bed, and I held onto his cock that was still dribbling more cum with each throb. Cum was everywhere, all over my hand, his t-shirt, my t-shirt, my thighs, his thighs and quite a pool on his bed.

We were both a little embarrassed about what had happened, but he then suggested that we clean the place up before his mum and dad returned. So quite a few tissues were used to get rid of the evidence.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought through all that had happened and started playing with my pussy. I was soaking wet and pushed my finger deeper into myself than I had done before. At that moment I decided that I wanted to feel a cock inside me and started to work out my plan.

My friend Debbie had confided in me that she had lost her virginity about 3 months earlier, and since then she always had a packet of condoms – or rubber johnnies as they were known in England at the time – in her bag. After telling her of my plan to have sex with Alfie she readily agreed to give me a couple but with a promise that I share all of the gory details with her afterwards. I explained that my parents were going out on the next Friday evening and my brother was staying over at a friend’s house that night, so it was going to be the ideal time to invite Alfie over for the evening.

Debbie asked whether I planned to give him a blowjob before we had sex, but I just pulled a face as the thought of putting a guy’s cock in my mouth seemed utterly repulsive bodrum escort bayan to me at that time.

Oh, how things change with experience!

Finally, the Friday evening came around. I was apprehensive but also very excited. Alfie arrived at about 7 and chatted with my dad about the telly programmes that we planned to watch that evening. Mum then announced that she was ready to leave and as the front door closed we were alone together. If all went well, my virginity would soon be a thing of the past.

We started kissing on the settee, Alfie much bolder this time, as he briefly fondled my breasts before moving his hand directly to my panties. I could feel his hard-on pressing against my thigh and I noticed a tingling sensation deep inside my pussy. I suggested that we go up to my room where we could listen to some music and seconds later we were lying on my bed.

I had removed my t-shirt and Alfie had done the same. His hand was inside my panties and when I lifted my bottom off the bed, he quickly pushed them down and off. I removed my bra, leaving myself totally naked for him. I asked whether he would like to remove his shorts, and they were gone in an instant.

Alfie leaned down to kiss me, then took a nipple into his mouth as he started to push a finger into my very juicy pussy. I reached down to guide his finger to my clit, and whispered into his ear that he should rub me there. He was a quick learner, realising that it was his slower circular motions that were causing my breathing to be faster and the low moans to escape my mouth.

As he was doing this, I reached down and grasped his cock. It was big, hard and throbbing. The tingling in my pussy was building and I knew that I was about to have the strongest orgasm of my life so far. Alfie continued to finger-fuck me as I writhed on the bed and I gradually regained my composure. I then realised that he had moved on top of me, with his cock pressing against my gümbet escort bayanlar pussy.

Regaining control a little, I reached over to the bedside table and took one of the condoms placed there. Alfie readily got up onto his knees, and with a little fumbling we managed to get it rolled onto his throbbing cock. Once again, he lay on top of me and positioned the head of his cock between my pussy lips. I was so excited that my pussy was dripping wet, but at the same time I was scared about the pain that I was expecting. The head slid in about half an inch, but was met with an obstruction. Suddenly Alfie pushed harder, I felt a sharp jolt of pain and then felt him sliding into me.

All sorts of emotions were running through my head at that moment, the pain was disappearing and I felt that I had really become a woman. I was filled with his cock, he was kissing me deeply and I had my arms tight around his back. He withdrew slowly, and it seemed as though every nerve inside my pussy was being stroked as his cock rubbed against them. The next inward thrust took my breath away, and my pussy was buzzing again as he started to fuck me with long slow deep thrusts.

He changed his position slightly, and each thrust generated amazing sensations deep inside me. I now realise that his cock had found just the right angle to stimulate my G-spot. Alfie’s thrusting became more frenzied, and just as my second orgasm hit me, he groaned and thrust deeply into me. I could feel him throbbing hard as his cum filled the condom. The feeling of his cock throbbing deep inside me, releasing his creamy semen, as my pussy muscles contracted around it was simply exquisite.

We lay still for ages, his half-hard cock still buried inside me. We both said how much we loved each other, and I lay there daydreaming for a while. Eventually Alfie rolled off me and removed the condom, but his cock was still quite hard. Conscious of the time, however, I said that we would have to get up before my parents returned, so we dressed, I disposed of the condom, which I wrapped in tissues and put in the bin.

Having now lost my virginity, I was firmly set on the road of sexual discovery. I had no idea at that time that I would become the cock-craving cum-slut that I am today, but I certainly knew that I loved the feeling of having a thick hard cock pumping its cum deep inside me.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

My name is Alex and this story I am sharing you is about the first time I touched a girl’s boobs and how it all happened…

My name is Alex (23 years old) and I am an engineering graduate.

Like all virgin boys I always wanted to have sex with a girl and wanted to run my hands and tongue all over her body.

It all happened after I got my first job in Canada. I had an uncle living over there, so my parents asked me to give him a visit as soon as I reach Canada. He lives in Jasper, an alpine town in Canada’s Alberta province. It was my first time in Canada and I chose to travel by bus so that I could see the beautiful places. I was really tired and bored because of all the traveling. There were not much people in the bus and I was sitting at the back seat. I was busy on Instagram checking out hot girls.

Suddenly I saw this woman getting on the bus. OMG! She was a fine woman… with great boobs and an amazing ass… I even remember what she was wearing that day. She had a blue checked moderately tight shirt and a denim shorts (enough to show her amazing legs). She also had a huge backpack. I couldn’t take my eyes of her, I was like looking at her without even blinking my eye. She suddenly saw me looking at her. I got a little scared and started to check my phone even though I had no use with it now. Suddenly she came beside me and asked if she could sit beside me. I was like Aww… seeing her so bodrum escort close. She sat beside me. I was unable to look at her or talk because I was afraid if she saw me looking at her like that.

Suddenly she said hi…

She told me that her name was Alice (32 years old). I started talking to her. Alice is a married woman with a 1 year old baby boy. I told her that I was visiting my uncle in Jasper and it was my first time in Canada. She told me that she knows my uncle and she also lives in Jasper. We had a long talk and she told me a lot about her. Suddenly she asked me whether I had a girlfriend. Unfortunately I didn’t had any because I was always shy to talk to girls. She was so surprised after hearing that (In my place most of the guys don’t have girlfriends). She asked me whether I was a virgin (which also was true).

She suddenly turned towards me (sitting on her seat).

“Are you really telling the truth?”

“Yes…”

“So you never ever been with a girl before?”

“No…”

“Don’t you like girls?”

“Yes… Yeah…”

“Do you like me?”

I was totally shy and my face turned red..

“Tell me what you think about me.. Do I look sexy or not…?”

“I don’t know”

“Alex…”

“Yes… you look really beautiful…”

“What do you like about me the most? I saw the way you looked at me while I got on muğla escort the bus.”

I was totally shy…

“Your BOOBS..!”

“Really… you love them… My husband doesn’t love them anymore.”

“No they look really big and great…”

“Have you ever touched one…?”

“No…”

“Do you want to feel mine?”

I was totally shocked… and “YEAH…”

I lifted my hand to grope them and she said “Not now stupid…”

I was sitting beside the window and she next to me…

She asked me to let her sit beside the window. We switched our seats..

She told me to put my left hand around her back. There were only a few people in the bus and all of them were sitting in the front seats…

She whispered in my ear.. “NOW!”

I gently rod my hands over her boobs and squeezed them gently..

OMG! I was really soft…

I started to squeeze harder… and her face was going crazy…

She suddenly stopped me… ” Do you want to feel them without the clothes?”

“HELL YEAH!”

She unbuttoned her shirt from the bottom while keeping the first one buttoned. I took my hands inside her shirt… She was wearing a bra…

I slid my finger under her bra…

Oh… her silky smooth skin felt so… Good and her nipples were like stone hard…

I ran my hands all over her boobs… teasing bodrum sınırsız escort bayan her nipples…

It was the greatest feeling I ever had…

I squeezed both of her nipples hard… She suddenly moaned…

Suddenly I felt a liquid in my hand and I was shocked… Is it blood? Did I squeeze it hard?

She whispered “Hey stupid that’s my milk…”

I have never seen breast milk before…

She took my fingers and made me put it in my mouth…?

“How does it taste boy..?”

mmmm… yeah…

Suddenly she told me that our town is getting close and if I continue to squeeze her boobs then I will spoil her shirt with breast milk…

I really wanted to suck her boobs dry… But how could I complain?

She started to button her shirt and after 5 minutes we reached the town…

Before I got up… she got up and tried to squeeze out of her seat… She suddenly sat on my cock and started to move her ass rubbing my already super hard cock…

I knew she was teasing me…

She finally got up like after 15 seconds and turned towards me

“You liked it don’t you?”

“See you around boy…”

She left the bus and all I could do was to stare at her amazing ass…

I thought “I really should had got her number while I had the chance…”

I got a taxi and reached my uncle’s house.

All I could think now about was Alice…!

At night I was lying on the bed and suddenly it came to me…

I searched her name on Facebook and there she was… wearing a bikini…

I suddenly send her a friend request and I waited and waited…

After some minutes a message came…

It was from Alice…

“Hi… Look who it is… my naughty boy…”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The characters in this story speak French most of the time although I have written their dialogue in English with only a very occasional French phrase for some degree of authenticity. I haven’t studied French in forty years and apologize if I’ve gotten tense, gender, grammar or syntax wrong.

Steve had just completed his freshman year of college. He was a virgin. He’d felt a breast or two through clothing and gotten a couple of fingers just inside a girl’s shorts but not far enough to feel anything. He’d had one briefly rub his cock through his jeans and spent most of one night in bed with a girl while they were both fully clothed. He was a damn good kisser; he’d had some practice in that area of male-female interaction.

In the countless hours he spent at the massive university library, he had read everything he could get his hands on about sex from the absurdly clinical to the delightfully esoteric. He was positive that he knew more about sex than any other man on the planet—who hadn’t ever gotten any.

He was staying over for the summer term; students at all-girl schools around the state often came to the big university to take a course or two during the summer which was the only time they were allowed to enroll. Maybe this would finally be his time.

There were mixers occasionally scheduled on campus during the regular term with some of the girls’ colleges around the state, so he’d had a few—very few—opportunities to meet and at least make out with a few girls during the school year. Without a car and an apartment, there just weren’t many opportunities to ‘close the deal’.

Steve had had the fortune or misfortune of starting his first year of college at the tender age of seventeen. His mother had lied way back when she enrolled him in kindergarten; in those days the school hadn’t bothered to check a birth certificate. He was ready to start school and while slightly smaller than average, seemed to have no problems either relating to his classmates or doing schoolwork. Years later when someone figured it out, it was too late to do anything about it. Physically he caught up by the end of the ninth grade and was actually taller than average in high school, albeit only slightly so. He had participated in sports in high school, although he was certainly not a star athlete. Academically he had excelled.

When college rolled around he had his choice of any school he wanted to attend—if he could afford it. Good old mom lied again. She had a distant cousin in a state which had arguably the best state university in the nation. Even to this day graduates from said university enjoy virtual Ivy League status. With a little help from her equally dishonest cousin, he received in-state status. Tuition and fees for a state resident were a fraction of the out of state costs thanks to legislative fiat. The university was very affordable if you lived in the state but very difficult to get into due to its obscenely high entrance requirements promulgated by its nationally recognized academic reputation.

Steve had received a full scholarship which included both housing and meals. Good old mom had again cheated on the financial assistance paperwork with a little help from her brother, a CPA, who had a different last name. In addition to the state funded scholarship, Steve received a number of other stipends thanks to his excellent high school record, high SAT scores and official status as ‘impoverished.’

He was in fact impoverished; had things not come together, there wouldn’t have been a chance in hell of him attending a decent college—if any. Mom had no intention of spending any of her hard earned or more likely, purloined money on her only son’s education. In his first year at the university she had sent him a five-dollar bill at Christmas and that was pretty much it.

She did what she had to do; he was out of the house. It was up to him now. A college education was a special gift. If he chose not to make the best of it, he could always join the military. She’d done her part; she’d fulfilled her legal responsibility. Dad had flown the coop years earlier. Steve barely even remembered what he looked like.

Before enrolling in the fall term he would sign an affidavit which indicated that he had no parental support—his mother had already signed her part and mailed it back to him—and had lived continuously within the state for at a certain number of months. He would register for the draft in the state, acquire a driver’s license in the state, register his vehicle in the state and would truly become an in-state resident for purposes of tuition and fees. He’d already tried to do it at summer term registration but they wouldn’t accept it until he was eighteen—in spite of the fact that he was totally on his own financially.

He was the last kid to get a driver’s license in his high school class which certainly put him behind the power curve in back seat opportunities. He was still a few days away from being able to buy a watered escort bodrum down, 3.2 beer at a local watering hole named after the university mascot. He didn’t look seventeen, act seventeen or talk seventeen. In an era when checking ID was not what it is today, he was usually successful in getting a fresh beer if he surreptitiously picked up a near-empty off a table, waved it in front of the busy bartender and said, ‘how about another Bud?’

Steve felt neither love nor loathing for his parents; other kids he had grown up with had fared far worse. They’d never beaten or abused him. They fed him and put a roof over his head. Since he had done very well in school, they never bugged him. They simply ignored him. His father had disappeared before he started junior high. His mother always seemed impatient for him to grow up and move out.

He didn’t hate the university—no! That’s not right! He despised the university, but he loved getting an education and learning new things. The university was all male. Freshman couldn’t have a car until second semester and then only if they had a 3.0 average. He had come in at 2.94. Not that it would have mattered, since he couldn’t afford a car at the time and freshman parking was miles from his classes. Most of the other guys attending had money which bought clothes, toys and cars. The fraternity scene was dominant and he didn’t find it attractive, nor could he have afforded it. He wasn’t much of a party animal. Freshman had to live in the dorms and the freshman dorms were barely of barracks quality.

Second semester of his freshman year he got a perfect 4.0 average. It meant that in his sophomore year he would be able to have a car. He ended up getting a small, used motorcycle because it was cheaper to buy and cheaper to operate; it turned out to be more fun than he had expected it to be. Between the end of the regular term and the beginning of the summer term, he found an apartment off campus.

Since the university essentially gouged the students who lived in the dorms, it was a better deal for him in view of his housing stipend. It had a kitchen and he loved to cook. It was far more than a single room with an obnoxious roommate and a communal bathroom at the end of the hall. He’d learned how to cook at an early age. Before leaving home, he couldn’t remember the last time his mother had done so. He knew he could cook better food for less money than the meal ticket he had been required to use throughout his freshman year had provided.

He had also acquired a much better part time retail job which paid a better salary—his hourly wage had increased by 250%. The job included commissions and bonuses. The two owners were nice people who cared about their employees. Their store was located halfway between his garage apartment and the campus.

The majority of the guys attending summer school were doing so because they had flunked one or more classes during the regular term. Steve had calculated that if he took a full twelve hour load in summer school for three years, he’d be able to graduate nine months early, skipping his senior year. The faster he got away from the university, the sooner he could get a job and start his life.

He had decided to knock out as many required courses as possible in summer term. The university required all students to pass four semesters of a foreign language. Steve had completed the first two during the regular term and intended to finish the last two in summer school. He would also take two semesters of English Lit which would complete his requirement in that subject area. He’d reviewed the course requirements and realized that he had read—and studied—every single work to be covered in the two semesters of the Lit courses.

His foreign language of choice was French. He had first been formally exposed to it in elementary school, fortunate to have attended a school as a youngster that had a very progressive concept of teaching foreign languages to very young children. His paternal grandmother spoke fluent, unaccented French, and had enjoyed tutoring him when she had come to visit back before his dysfunctional family had evaporated. There had been a French Canadian neighbor who had enjoyed finding anyone who spoke his native language, even if it was a kid.

His grandmother on his father’s side had tried to keep in touch with him even after his father departed and in spite of the fact that she despised his mother. She had offered to pay for him to go to France and live for the summer with his aunt and uncle just prior to his senior year in high school. As much as the two women despised each other, there was no way his mother was going to turn down a chance to get rid of him for three months that wouldn’t cost her a cent.

That summer was without question the most wonderful three months of his life. His aunt and uncle were kind, friendly and loving. They treated him like the son they had never been able to have. They were cultured, turgutreis escort outgoing, charming and moderately prosperous people. His aunt had received some training as a chef and was thrilled to discover his culinary interests. They spoke French and only French.

Steve had had no problem with the first two semesters of French and didn’t expect any during the summer term. He had taken four years of the language in high school and with all of the other exposure, spoke the language perfectly, read it with ease and was a reasonably proficient, if not perfect, writer.

The summer term included a language lab in addition to the normal class. The lab met twice a week for a total of four hours in an old, dilapidated wooden building just off the edge of the campus. For the four hours a week of additional work, the course would earn him one additional semester hour of credit.

There were unlikely to be any girls in the lab; they only came to the big campus to take specialized courses that weren’t available at their own schools, not undergraduate requirements. The people who taught these labs were not professors but often simply contracted instructors. As he took a seat near the front, he attempted to check out the one handling this particular language lab.

A female instructor was unusual; he had never even seen a female professor at the university. He judged her to be in her early thirties; if she was younger, then life had been less than kind to her. Her hair was coarsely cut and straight. It was frizzy. Her face was a bit gaunt and had no makeup; her features were classically French.

She was not unattractive because genetics had been unkind to her. Her unattractiveness was some combination of intent and neglect further accentuated by a dour visage. He wondered what her story was. Her clothing was simple and plain. Her eyes would occasionally dart up from whatever she was looking over and then hurriedly return downward. Her mouth was set in what could only be thought of as a scowl…more than just a frown.

She had ample breasts; even her plain, poorly tailored blouse couldn’t hide that fact. She stood and turned to write something on the chalkboard behind her. She was neither wearing hose nor was she particularly fastidious about shaving. It was in the instant when she whirled around toward the chalkboard that he caught an alluring impression of her hips and buttocks. Her waist was almost petite; her hips and rear were not remotely so but nor did they appear fat or flabby. How pathetic, he thought to himself. You’re fantasizing about a woman probably almost old enough to be your mother who isn’t remotely even pretty.

No English was ever spoken in language lab—much to the consternation of the guys who had flunked French before and didn’t have even a marginal grasp of the language. She introduced herself and wrote her name on the board. It was Miss, not Missus or Doctor. She greeted each student in French as she put the faces with the names on her roster. Then she proceeded to go around the room and ask each student to tell the class about himself—in French of course. Those that slipped into English or fumbled and mumbled received the full brunt of her menacing scowl and piercing dark eyes accompanied by a shake of the head and a cluck of the tongue that bordered on pity. And then it was Steve’s turn.

“Etienne?”

“Oui?”

Steve spoke virtually letter perfect, Parisian accented, idiomatic, conversational French. He and the instructor were quickly engaged in a dialogue. He did so effortlessly. The other students in the class probably had little idea what they were saying as the two of them were doing so very rapidly. Not that they had any objections: the longer the two of them chatted, the less time she had to call on the rest of them.

She was fighting it, Steve could tell; she was enjoying their conversation. He was certain he detected the hint of a smile at the edges of her lips. He was enjoying it too but too soon it had to end as the realization came to her that she had a class to teach. And then, there it was! If you hadn’t been looking for it, you would have missed it. Barely a nano-second, and the lips barely parted but it was a damn smile and even in that parsimonious display of pleasure, she became a different woman, if only for an instant.

As the lab droned on she would occasionally come back to him, speak to him, ask him something, and listen intently as he spoke. Sadly no one else in the class gave her much reason to smile and she declined to do so for the next two hours. There was an assignment. Each student was to prepare to have a discussion with a street vendor or shop keeper and that would be the exercise during the next class. The class ended; Steve had hoped he might chat with her but she seemed preoccupied and hurried out the door.

Returning to his apartment he had to chuckle. Miss Jardienne—he didn’t know her bodrum escort first name—had provided the closest, most intimate encounter he had had with any member of the opposite sex under the age of forty in too long and he was fantasizing about her. How pathetic.

The next class two days later was almost a repeat of the first one. They had chatted in rapid fire dialogue. She had smiled—he was sure of it—and the smile had lasted longer. The rest of the class was every bit as inept as they had been the first time. As the class ended, she turned to erase the chalkboard and the sway of her hips caused an instant reaction in his shorts. Just as he had decided that she had no interest in further conversation, she spun around and spoke.

“Etienne? Quel age as-tu?”

“I’m seventeen today; tomorrow I will be eighteen.” He replied in French in response to her very personally phrased inquiry.

“So young!” she said, moving her hand to her mouth as her eyes widened.

He quickly told her why he was such a young college sophomore.

“So! A big party tonight with friends…a girl?”

“No girl…no friends…no party.”

“What a pity!” she replied.

“That’s life,” he responded softly.

“Your French is perfect and your accent is not remotely American.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“What other classes are you taking? I can’t believe you had any problems in your French classes during the last term.”

He explained to her why he was attending summer school and what else he was taking; she smiled again.

“English Lit! My spoken English is, sadly, not very good—certainly not as good as your French—so many idioms! I too am taking classes—to learn to speak better English.”

The two of them had collected their things and were moving toward the door. She was walking very close to him; he could feel the warmth of her body. He didn’t want her to leave.

“If you would like, I’d be glad to help you with your English.”

“Help me? I’m sure you’re much too busy as arduous as a summer term can be.”

“Not at all. I have a part time job during the day. The classes I’m taking aren’t that taxing. I’m free almost any night of the week. Where do you live?”

She stopped and turned toward him, examining him critically; he was sure she was on the verge of cutting it off right then and there.

“I’m very new here; I have an apartment…I’m not very good with—wait! I have a map in my purse. I’ll show you.”

On examining the map, he noted that her apartment was several miles farther from campus than his was.

“I live closer,” he said, pointing at a spot on the map. “here. I only moved out of the dorm a couple of weeks ago. I looked in that area where you are but it’s a little far to walk or ride a bike.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“No—but I just got a small motorcycle. Where is your car? I’ll walk you to it.”

She frowned, but this time it was not an angry scowling frown; it was a sad little girl frown.

“No car—no license yet. And not very much money. I take the bus to here,” she said, pointing at the map, “then I walk from there to my home.”

“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?” he asked.

A real smile…a very pretty smile…it lit up her whole face. She was remembering a happier time…a special person maybe?

“Yes—yes! Many times but not here of course…in France…at home.”

“I know the bus schedule like the back of my hand—that’s pretty much how I’ve gotten around for the last year. The next bus that goes that way isn’t due by here for almost an hour. By then it will be dark and it’s not safe to walk in that part of town after dark. I’d be glad to give you a ride home—on my motorcycle.”

She was perusing him again, trying to decide if it would be appropriate.

“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble—isn’t it out of your way?”

“It’s only a couple of miles—hardly five minutes—and it’s not as if I have anyplace else to be.”

A smile again followed by an almost coquettish nod of the head. They walked together to where he had chained up his motorcycle.

“Not so small! When you said small, I think of little scooters in Paris.”

“It’s relatively small by American standards—only 150cc.”

He strapped their collective belongings on the small luggage rack; he started the motorcycle and she climbed on behind him. He attempted to move as far forward as was possible toward the fuel tank to give her more room. To his surprise he could clearly feel the warmth of her mound as she scooted forward to avoid disturbing the luggage rack. She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

The feel of her full breasts on his back excited him; her hands fell to his hips and rested scant inches above his crotch. He pulled over and pointed to his apartment as they passed. Occasionally he would feel her sweet, warm breath on his cheek and neck.

“Do you have a kitchen—stove?”

“Of course. I love to cook—hated living in the dorm.”

“I do not have a stove. I have a hot plate and toaster oven but no real place to cook. I worked as a cook in Paris—sous chef. I miss not being able to cook.”

He had to take a shot. “Look, Miss Jardienne, I…”

“Marie. You should call me Marie.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Dr. Theodore Andrews straightened his tie as he stood in front of the empty room. The students had not yet begun to arrive, but he knew they would be there soon. He had been teaching for years, and none of his classes had ever really been quite the same as the one before. Generally, he ended up with upperclassmen taking the class because it satisfied one last requirement and had the reputation for being a blow-off class. Their disinterest was the only common thread from year to year, but he prided himself on his ability to suck everyone in with his enthusiasm.

The first student arrived and looked around the room before slowly making her way to the front. She probably felt obligated to do so, he found himself thinking. He figured it would be best if he looked away, so as to keep from making her uncomfortable, but as she descended the auditorium-style seating, he couldn’t. She was wearing a dark blue sweater with a rather deep v-neck, with a lacy tank top peeking out, to keep her “decent”. Though not particularly large, her young breasts moved enticingly as she approached him, her rounded hips accented by the tight jeans she was wearing. Her eyes were large and innocent, a brown or dark green, partly hidden under side swept bangs. She met his gaze and smiled shyly as she sat in the front row, just a few feet away from him. He returned the smile, hoping it read more as “welcoming educator” than “lecherous old man.” She tucked her chocolate-brown hair behind her ear and pulled out a notebook.

“Are you looking forward to this class?” He just couldn’t leave her alone. She looked up, maybe surprised that he was speaking to her, then smiled. Her lips were a soft pink, with a perfectly-shaped cupid’s bow.

“I am,” she answered with a nod. “I was really excited to see that there were still openings in this section, too. I’ve heard that you’re the professor to have.”

Yeah, probably because he was so easy or something. He fought back a chuckle and cleared his throat, leaning against his desk. “So what year are you?”

“I’m a sophomore.” She seemed to cringe a little. “Is that okay? Someone told me that this class is usually reserved for seniors.” He watched her lower her eyes along his body and suddenly became aware of the fact that his dick was growing just slightly hard. Maybe it wasn’t noticeable yet. He stood up, moved around behind his desk, just in case. Right. She’d asked a question.

“No, that’s fine. As long as you have the required classes, which I assume that you do, since otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to register in the first place, then you are welcome here, my dear.” It slipped out purely by accident, but he decided that he’d better stop talking before he got himself into trouble. More students began to file in, and, thankfully, his erection went away in time to face them.

That night, with his wife, he found himself imagining that her eyes were a greenish-brown as he fucked her.

A few weeks later, Dr. Andrews sat in his office, grading papers. No one ever came to see him during office hours, anyway: might as well get something done. After a while, he heard a gentle tapping on the doorway and looked up. It was the girl. Cassie Locke. His blood surged through his veins, and he decided against rising to greet her. She was wearing a thin cotton dress with a hem that fell just above her knees. Her calves were small but shapely, and he itched to smooth his palm along her leg. She was wearing a small cardigan perhaps in acknowledgment that it was October now, and beginning to get cold.

“How may I help you, Miss Locke?” If this were any other student, he might imagine that she was here to perhaps trade a blow job for a few extra percentage points, but not only was it far too early in the year for that, she was also one of the best students in her class. Still, he couldn’t kelp imagining her innocent little mouth wrapped around his cock under the desk, and had to shift in his seat. His pants were growing uncomfortable. She was still hovering in the doorway, looking unsure. “Please take a seat.” She obeyed and, as she sat, leaned forward to place her bag on the floor. This treated him to a glance of the pale skin that was usually hidden from sight, and he licked his lips. When she sat back, she continued fidgeting. “You’re not here to tell me that you’ve been cheating or anything, are you, Miss Locke?” He highly doubted that, but with the way she was acting…

“No!” bodrum escort She answered vehemently. “No. I do not plagiarize, and I do not cheat.” She lowered her voice, but met his eyes. “I promise.” She looked away and sank her teeth into her lower lip. He wanted to smooth his tongue along that very lip, maybe press a kiss or two there. Dammit, Ted. Stop it. She is a student. “But…I think I’m going to have to withdraw from the course.” The idea clearly pained her.

“Why? You’re doing very well! I’ve just finished grading your paper. You have a few shaky points, but other than that, it’s a very solid paper, very well-written. And you know that it’s too late to get any of your money refunded.”

She nodded miserably. “I know. And it’s not my grades.”

He wished she would just spit it out already. Her perfume was drifting over to his nose, and it was extremely distracting. He looked up at her, and realized that she…well, she appeared to be cold. Her nipples were clearly puckered, little buds pressing against her dress. She seemed to notice too, and pulled her sweater more tightly around herself.

“So what is it, then?” You know I’m willing to work with students as much as I can. Is everything okay at home?”

“It’s fine,” she replied. “Ugh, I feel so stupid.” She rose, then stooped to pick up her bag. Was it just his imagination, or did her dress just slip down and show him a hint of nipple? “I can’t come to class anymore, because I can’t pay attention. I just sit there, and then I have to borrow someone’s notes every week, and I just can’t do it anymore.” Her cheeks were a dark pink, and her eyes bright and watery. “And I know you’re going to ask. So what’s distracting me? The short answer, Dr. Andrews, is that you are.” She moved towards the door, but froze when he spoke up.

“What’s the long story, Miss Locke? What, specifically, is distracting you?” He watched her shoulders slump, her head bow. Then her hand slipped off of the doorknob. “I ask because dealing with things like this is part of being an adult. For example…” He was taking his career into his hands here, but couldn’t stop himself. “Do you know how distracted I am by the urge to bend you over my desk right now?”

The room was silent. He had done it. She would file a complaint. He would be fired, lose his house, lose his wife, lose everything that he had worked so hard to get. Slowly, though, she turned and though her face was still flushed, she was no longer teary. He cleared his throat.

“But…that wouldn’t happen, Miss Locke, because I am an adult and a professional.”

She said nothing, but she did lock the office door and lower the blinds. Maybe he wouldn’t lose everything? She approached him slowly, deliberately, dropping her bag into the chair and cautiously peeling off her sweater. Finally, she stood just a few inches away from him, so close he could see her pulse beating wildly in her neck. He could reach out and touch her, let his hands glide along her waist. “Why can’t it happen?” She finally asked, and sank to her knees next to him, tucking her fingers under his belt.

Shocked, he couldn’t find the words to stop her, even as her small fingers unfastened his belt. Between the glimpses she’d been teasing him with and this development in the situation, he was approaching rock hard, and he was sure she could see that. She ran one hand over the front of his pants, along his bulge. At that he grabbed her slender wrists and dragged her rather forcefully up to meet his eyes.

“Miss Locke,” he gritted out. “I am your professor. You are my student. I’m a married man: this cannot happen.

She held his gaze. “How else do you think we’ll ever get over this fascination with each other?” She pouted a little, but it didn’t come across as contrived or sly. She was serious, and her deep eyes drew him in. He stood quickly, and forced her down over his desk. He kept one hand firmly on the back of her neck, but use the other to lift the hem of her dress. No panties. Of course she wore no panties.

“Who do you think you are, Miss Locke, coming to my office and sitting in my chairs with no panties on?” He fitted his palm against one milky cheek, loving the warmth of her skin. Abruptly, he pulled his hand away and brought it back down, hard, against her skin. She yelped and struggled against his grip. “Are you some kind of whore, gümbet escort just pretending to be sweet and innocent?”

“No!” She sounded scared, so he loosened his hold on her just a little. He didn’t like pretending to be a big bad monster, though the sight of her naked ass did make his cock twitch. He smoothed his hand along the pink handprint that he had just stamped onto her sweet skin.

“I believe you, Miss Locke,” he said, trailing his hand between her legs. She was neatly-trimmed but not clean-shaven, and he he touched her soft bush. “I believe you.” He lowered her hem and released her neck. Immediately, she turned around to face him. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She was soft but firm, as he’d imagined she would be, and he pulled her hips flush against his. She nipped at his lower lip, but her tongue moved shyly against his. “Is this how I distracted you?” He asked, squeezing her hips. She shook her head.

“May I show you?”

He studied her face. “Please do.”

The girl pushed him into his chair, then knelt once again, and resumed unbuttoning his slacks. She reached inside and caressed him through his boxers, then freed him from those, too. Her eyes widened as she took him in, and now he chuckled.

“You flatter me, Miss Locke,” He was not pornographically large, but, then again, his dick did get the job done without complaints. “No need for that.”

She looked as though she were about to protest, but seemed to think better of it and put her mouth to better use. She kissed the tip of his cock, her tongue darting out to move along the slit in the head. She traced gentle lines up and down the shaft with only the tip of her tongue, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No one likes a cocktease, Miss Locke,” he warned, threading his fingers through her hair. She looked up at him with those big murky eyes, the bulbous head of his cock now firmly planted in her mouth. She let the tip slid out from between her lips, leaving a trail of pre-cum and saliva glistening on that pouty lower lip of her. “No one?” She breathed, hot and damp against him. “Not even you?” She let her fingers dance along his length before circling them and squeezing. When he didn’t answer, she smiled and parted her lips, pressing down against him, to introduce him back into the heat of her mouth. Fuck if she didn’t make him want to come right then and there. She reached past the base of his cock to take his balls into her small palm, tugging lightly on them and massaging as she continued to suck.

Each time she bobbed her head, he began to realize, she was taking him deeper into her mouth, and in only a few moments, he was pressed against the back of her throat. He felt her pause for a moment and the next thing he knew, he was slipping into her throat. He gritting out a moan when she continued bobbing, flexing her throat as she did so. He couldn’t help himself—he pressed his hands against the back of her head and pushed her down, hard, until he could go no deeper. He felt her gag, try to struggle to her feet, but knew that the motion of pulling out of that spasming throat would be enough to make him shoot his load right there, so he held her tightly. When his climax had distanced itself from him again, he let her pull away, then stood up and pulled her to a standing position as well.

“You are a good girl,” he said, smoothing her hair. “Very good.” He slid the straps of her dress off of her shoulders, noting with pleasure the goosebumps that erupted at his touch. Her dress fell silently to the floor, leaving her wholly exposed. He filled a hand with each breast, weighing them appreciatively, enjoying the way they felt in his hands: heavy, soft. Her nipples were hard again, and he took each one between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging almost painfully. She shifted, perhaps uncomfortable, and he lowered his mouth to her left nipple, laving it with attention before granting the same attention to the right. Having finished that, he kissed a trail down her belly until he reached his ultimate destination. He was kneeling now, despite the protests of his aging knees, and placed either hand on her hips.

“Now it’s my turn to show you how you’ve been distracting me, young lady.” He pressed his nose against her mound and slipped his tongue past her outer lips. She was dripping wet, as he’d expected, and he lapped konacık escort at her hungrily. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and some of the sweetest moans he’d ever heard escaped her lips. He felt her knees buckle and pulled away just long enough to pull his chair around behind her. She sat, spreading her legs for him. He spread her outer lips once more, this time moving his mouth directly to her clit. The smell of her sex mixed with the leather of his chair was a heady combination, and he fought the urge to wrap his fist around his cock.

“Professor,” the girl whimpered. “Professor. I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” he ordered, barely taking his mouth away from her. “Come on, baby, and come all over my mouth.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Her thighs tightened around his head as her body rocked and writhed with pleasure. When she back back down to normal, the lower half of his face was soaked with girl-come, and he wiped it off. She met his eyes and stood up, then bent over his desk, exposing her glistening and swollen pussy. She looked back at him, inviting him in. “I’m clean,” she murmured. “And I’m on the Pill. So I won’t be causing…any problems.” She smiled shyly—at least, as shyly as a naked girl could look, willingly bent over a strange man’s desk. “Please fuck me, Dr. Andrews.”

Her voice was his undoing. That sweet way she said “please”? Forget about it. He stood up and positioned himself at her slick entrance, rubbing the tip against her clit a few times before sinking his length inside her. When he was only halfway in, he noticed two things. First, hers was quite possibly the tightest pussy he’d ever felt. Second, the tip of his cock was pressing against what felt like a thin membrane.

“You’re a virgin,” he stated, incredulous. How had such a perfect body remained untouched for so long?

“I am,” she answered, tightening her muscles around him. “Please, don’t stop because of that. I need you.”

Truth be told, he had considered it for a moment: pulling out, sending her home. But now it was as though he was locked into place. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He held her waist tightly and pulled out a little, only to ram himself right back into place. Her hymen tore under the pressure, and a small yelp escaped her lips. When he pulled out again, he could see traces of blood on his cock, and something about knowing that it was this girl’s firstblood turned him on even more. He slammed deep inside of her and pressed his lips close to her ear. “I’ve never taken a virgin before, Miss Locke. I’m honored.” Even his wife hadn’t been a virgin when they met. “How does it feel to lose your virginity to a dirty old professor?”

“I love it,” she moaned. “You’re so big, professor…it feels like you’re going to split me in two.”

Indeed, he could feel her stretching to accommodate him, as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her virgin pussy. Her juices began to drip down her inner thigh even as he approached climax again. He tried to hold off, though, and reached down to pinch her clit, twisting it roughly. He wanted her to come again, to feel her clench down around his big dick. His efforts were rewarded when he felt her press tightly against him, taking every inch deep inside her cunt, and heard her moan out his name. As she was coming back down once more, he resumed thrusting. After a moment he felt his balls tighten and his dick throbbed, and then he was shooting his student’s young womb full of his thick hot seed. He pulled out slowly: he wanted to watch it drip out of her, slide down her creamy inner thighs. He spread her inner lips apart with two fingers and, sure enough, a nice glob of cum began to drip out of the girl.

“I can still feel it in me, Dr. Andrews,” she marveled, her voice deep and hazy with pleasure. “You filled me up completely, didn’t you?”

“That I did, my dear,” he replied, sliding three fingers inside of her. She whimpered with pleasure, and still more seed spilled out of her. Fuck, she was sexy. After a few more moments, he reached over to take several tissues from the box on his desk, carefully cleaning his cum off of her legs and pussy. When he was finished, he allowed her to straighten, and she turned to look at him. “A+, as always, Miss Locke,” he said, approval tinting his voice. He tucked his cock back into his pants, still wet from fucking her, and stooped to retrieve her dress. “I trust I’ll be seeing you in class on Friday?”

The girl grinned and nodded as she pulled her dress back over her head and smoothed the material out over her pale skin. She picked up her sweater and her purse and headed for the door. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Professor,” she said over her shoulder, and then disappeared out his door.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Author’s Note: Welcome to the last chapter of So Much Trouble! These chapters are not episodic, so if you’re just finding this here, you’ll want to start at Chapter 1 so things make some sense. 🙂

All characters in all chapters are over 18.

Happy reading!

~Eris/D&T

* * *

He pushed a hand back over the top of his head. The Archregent’s daughter. How would he look Strati in the eye and tell her nothing had happened? Tell her he’d protected Gallea and talked her out of her ridiculous Wish. That the young woman wouldn’t leave her rooms pouting and thwarted would be answer enough.

He made a face and thrust his hands into the basin to catch the spray of water and wash. He took soap from the dispenser. Ohh, he was in trouble. Trouble, trouble, trouble. Argent knew how to handle military problems. Haavet would be nothing compared to this.

He splashed water on his face and scrubbed. Grabbed a plush cloth from the wall to dry. It was not as soft as her skin. Her naked, perfec—

“Fuck!”

Gallea stood in the open doorway. Her skirt and top were not with her. Argent closed his mouth. Put down the cloth.

“You want a dead admiral in your apartment, that’s a good way to do it.”

A dazed smile softened her face, and she padded the two steps to meet him. Even as she rose on the balls of her feet, Argent still had to look down to meet her eyes. Which were closed. She stretched up to kiss him and, like a bastard, he let it happen. There was probably another bad name for what kind of man he was to slip a hand to the small of her bare back.

And then the tug at his belt.

He froze.

“What are you doing?”

Fingers worked at his fly.

“You’re not done being my first,” she said, the words brushing over his mouth.

Argent huffed a breath through his nose. “Gallea.”

She was jerking his trousers loose. “Smile again, Argent, I want to see it.” Pulling his shirt out. “I want to make you feel like that.”

He caught one of her forearms, but it wasn’t enough. Her other hand burrowed below fabric, and he hissed when her touch found his bare, hard cock.

Then the free air found it. Gallea had him out.

Rapt attention pulled her focus down to what was in her hand, as though it were the first, real live erection she’d ever held. It may well have been.

“So warm.” Utter fascination as she slipped her fingers around him.

“You don’t … nnh.” He closed his eyes. “You don’t need t—”

“Yes, I do.” She took back her arm from his grip. “I need everything. Tonight.”

Argent’s breath hitched when her touch became soft strokes, and he grunted when he let himself look down to see his ruddy prick in her delicate hand.

“You’re going to leave and go to Haavet,” she said. “I’ll never convince you again. You’ll come back and try to ignore me.” Desperation laced her words, her touch.

“No one could ignore you, Gallea.” He sure as fuck couldn’t.

“Then don’t,” she said. “Not now.”

And then she sank to her knees.

Argent stood there like an idiot, jaw slack. He should be doing something. Backing away. Getting his trousers back together. Not letting her angle his hardon lower. Not watching her duck her face close, and Unity, she was brushing him along her cheek like his cock was a caressing hand.

When she turned her head, that hot mouth fell open, and the pink tongue came out to drag along the underside of him. Argent balled hands into fists and tried to breathe.

Gallea swallowed him down. It was no lie; he was her first. Maybe she’d seen some Omnote content somewhere, some woman on a holo projection sucking a dick, but he could tell by the halting movements she’d had no real experience anywhere else.

He didn’t care. That it was happening at all made him silently threaten his balls not to explode down her virgin throat. The entire thing was surreal; it didn’t have to be great. The Archregent’s daughter, knees apart on the washroom floor, doing her unpracticed best to suck and stroke the admiral.

For a man who was supposed to be ending this, he spent a lot of time slack-jawed, watching his dick get eaten. All higher thought left, and he combed fingers into her hair. Wide, foolishly trusting blue eyes stared up at him, and Argent used her mouth.

He wasn’t rough, wasn’t hurried about it. There was only the urge to see that he could. That Gallea would let him feed his shaft past her lips, let him anchor a fist in those gold tresses and take advantage of her. Just a little.

You’ll come back and try to ignore me.

How? How could he do that now?

Frustration had him taking her deeper, slower. The way her sweet face changed when he showed her there was more of him that could fill her mouth, could press her tongue down how he wanted. Control her breath how he wanted.

She was panting, cheeks flushed when he pulled himself back. In a move from academy days, he ducked low and hoisted her under the arms. Put a shoulder into her bodrum escort bayan middle and stood, grip on the backs of her knees so she folded over him, pert backside next to his ear, hands clutching the back of his shirt.

“Argent!”

Her shock made a thrill course in his veins. Whose Wish was it now, when he strode again to the bed and dumped Gallea onto her back? When he crawled up over her naked body, everything he knew he shouldn’t be?

“You don’t want to be ignored?” he said. “You want all my attention?” He sat back on his bootheels long enough to pull his shirt off over his head, before pushing his knees between hers and sinking low to brace on an elbow.

“This is what all my attention feels like.” He ground his cock between her legs. His fly had fallen in place to cover most of him again, but she would feel the hard ridge bruising her mound.

Gallea’s hands rushed to explore his bare chest, the bulk of his shoulders, the back of his neck. Her breath came short, mouth fell open. Innocent, hungry trust crackled in blue eyes.

“You want this?” he growled, and his thumb smeared over her lower lip. “You want Fleet Admiral Iqarius to fuck you?”

“Unity!” Her hips rolled against him, a fever of want.

He let his weight pin her. Took that same lower lip between his teeth and bit a whimper from her throat. There were humid kisses for her face, her neck. Merciless little pinches for her nipples that made her back bow and quiet sounds of distress plead at his ear.

He came to center, his forehead pressing to hers, thumb digging in over her bare hip.

“I’ll hurt you, Gallea.”

Nails bit his biceps.

“Yes! Yes, I want it!”

How many warnings could this girl ignore? Argent grabbed up her hand and thrust it between them, wrapping her fingers where he ached. “This,” he said, squeezing his grip around hers. “This. All of this, inside you.” Did she understand? “It’s not two fingers, little girl.”

“Plee-hee-hease! Argent!” Gallea was all but sobbing beneath him, hips tilting to get what he withheld.

All of them. All the warnings.

He slipped his fingers between her legs. Smeared them where she was slick. Her eyes were on him, pupils huge, refusing to miss a second of her Wish.

Sweet Unity, I’m doing this.

Argent brushed her hand aside and stroked his now wet hand down his shaft.

Doing this, doing this, doing this.

He paused at the threshold, drinking the sight, the scent.

“I can’t take this back,” he said.

“I don’t want it back.” She shook her head. “Take it.”

He did.

Pretty pink lips plumped around the fat crown of his dick, and he slipped with ease to that deepest point where her entrance waited, eyes down while he angled home. Gallea made lovely, tortured sounds when the head of him sank inside. More of him went, and fingertips dug into his bracing arm.

“A-Argent.”

His focus was on the task: squeezing himself by measures into a tight space that didn’t know how to accept him.

“Yes, Precious?” Wicked disingenuity laced his tone, as though he had no idea what could be flustering the poor girl.

“Unh.” Her eyes squinted closed. Upper lip curled with the struggle. “Argent, I … it’s …”

He dropped down to smash her legs wide with his hips. To brace on his elbow, and drawl out mocking pity at her ear. “Is it too big?”

Gallea whined, and he gave her more, the swell of power making him drunk. He pulled back so he could force-feed her the same hard length again, slow still, but all in one motion this time.

“Is this not what you asked for, Gallea?” A sweet taunt while her soft belly quivered under hard muscle and a dusting of hair. “Everything? Tonight?”

Her breath hitched in her chest. Open thighs twitched at his hips, her core nervous to relax.

“Here,” he said, relentless, “take the rest.”

Bright blue eyes opened wide when Argent filled her with the last of his cock, the small of her buttocks pressing a warm, close cradle around his sack.

She squirmed, tentative. Adjusting.

He kissed her. Smothered her. Weighted her down and let her struggle around the hard organ locking them together. Oh, the hesitant scrabble of her bare feet in the bedclothes. The musical tang of all the desperate little noises she gave up into his mouth. He carved them out with his tongue, like a fiend.

Her first. Unity, he was her first.

Argent let himself be still. Gallea followed, the fingertips of one hand skimming down his ribs to his hip, to the meat of his backside where trousers covered most of him. It was as if she needed to feel it with her own hands to believe it: thighs parting hers, male muscle keeping this rigid thing lodged in her body.

Her eyes shone wet, and she watched him, waiting. Some of the tension melted in her limbs, and Argent pressed his lips to her brow. A thumb brushed along her cheek.

“Now,” he said, quiet patience returning, gümüşlük escort “tell me your Wish again. Tell me what you want.”

“Y-you,” said Gallea. “This.”

“Mmm? Yes?” The thumb moved to the corner of her mouth, tracing. He throbbed inside her, earning a delicious little shudder of breath. “Can you take this cock, Gallea?”

A quick nod came with wide eyes.

He hummed. “Show me.” Pulled back his hips only to ease into her heat again. “Show me what you can take.”

Argent let the motion continue, slow and grinding, and felt the first tilt of her hips up to meet his. A smile curled his mouth on one side. He gave her more, incremental. A little less careful with his strokes, his pace waking up. His right hand found her left and laced their fingers together, pinning her knuckles to the bed. She tensed around him and whimpered.

“Shh-sh-shhhh, Gallea.” He kissed her temple, nipped at her ear, all while stirring between her legs. “Be a good girl and get fucked. Just like you wanted.”

Her eyes rolled back and Gallea bit her lip. Argent drove several short huffs of air from her lungs with subtle jerks of his hips, and her free hand slid to shove his trousers lower, to knead the flexing round of his ass.

Ohhh no, no. You are not in charge anymore, sweetness.

He gave up his hold on her hand to feel around for her knee. To hook it over his elbow when he did, and bear her thigh back toward her wobbling breast.

Her mouth dropped open into a choppy little moan. The new hold spread her further, incapacitated her further, so she was wide open for however Argent chose to pack her full of dick. And at this angle, right away, a deliberate thrust made her yip.

She wriggled, caught, but he pumped his cock in and out of that tight, virgin pussy, shame heating his flesh at just how much satisfaction he got from overwhelming the Archregent’s daughter.

Her heavy tits bobbed, hypnotic, and Argent bent to suck a nipple into his mouth. The move folded her further in half, his length pushing deeper still, and she cried out, bucking against so much at one time.

“Are you being good for me, Gallea?” he said, rising to brace on an arm so he could watch those big blue eyes while he fucked her.

“Y-yes?” Mouth open. Fevered cheeks. She was beautiful. Perfect.

“Say, ‘Yes, Admiral.’?”

Her pupils dilated at this new escalation, and Argent plundered her slick little cunt.

“Y-yes! Admiral.” Gallea repeated it, breathy, letting him lead her to places neither of them should ever be. Places that made his balls tighten and his blood burn.

“Good girl,” he said and brought a hand to cup the side of her face. His thumb shifted to pull at her lower lip. To nudge at her teeth so she’d let him inside.

“Suck.”

She did, and it was exquisitely wrong to watch.

Wet, how he wanted, Argent took the thumb back. His palm splayed low over her belly where he could notch the digit, just so, the slick pad finding the place that made her spine curl. Gallea gave a sharp, high moan, and he sought a rhythm.

Thumb circling, mashing her clit, cock sluicing in and out—a slow labor still, as this wasn’t for him. Not just yet.

Now, he wanted her sounds. The pretty contortion of her face with each new part of the experience.

He rutted into her. Worked that little pearl topping the flare of her lips around him. Her free leg speared downward alongside his knee, backside clenching to help her meet his strokes in the small way he’d left her to claim. Her hands spread wide in the dark bedding like pale starfish. Breath came short.

Argent feathered rapid attention over her clit. He frowned, broke stride, and seized his thumb in his own mouth, wetting himself again, only to return to it, slip-sliding and focused.

Gallea’s mouth dropped all the way open. Her back tried to twist, balking away from sensation.

“No,” he said. “No, Precious, feel it.”

His left knee hitched higher to push her thigh wide, and his opposite arm still hooked her other knee back, razing those sweet defenses.

“Feel it.”

She wasn’t going to get away from this. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to bar the precise attack from his thumb. The steady plumb and draw of his cock. Her fingers clutched the covers.

“Mnuhh?”

Gallea didn’t recognize it.

“Aanngh!”

And then she did.

A hot grip sucked at him from inside. Her nipples tightened to dark pink points.

Keep going, idiot. Just like this. Don’t fuck this up.

Argent held his pattern in a steel grip, hips hitching regular like a drumbeat, thumb talking to her clit.

Gallea wailed.

Her pussy clutched and released, milking, helpless. Cool air kissed him—he was sliding through a glut of new moisture between her legs.

Deep blue sea!

He drove her through it until a note of panic shimmered across her face, but then took his thumb away. Gallea’s mumcular escort limbs slackened. Her throat bobbed in a swallow.

A better man would have stopped then. Would have let her simmer in it, panting. Argent was not a better man, it seemed. He was losing his mind.

With a shift of his right arm, he pushed the knee he’d been trapping to the left, forcing her thigh across her body and her hips to turn.

Gallea watched, limp, while he held her knee to the mattress and fucked into her sideways, her pussy compressed to a taut slit he had to bore his way into. A dark stain had spread on the covers in the place her ass had been.

This was for him now. For him. He slipped a hand up to mold one of her tits, greedy. She reached to touch his groping hand, his arm, in a daze. So soft. So malleable. Argent palmed the cheek of her ass, spreading it just to be lewd.

More.

He pushed her hip to follow the leg, and her shoulders had turn or her spine would twist too far. A single blue eye watched him from under a nervous brow. Argent pressed her to her belly, thighs still split around him, and continued to fuck himself into her yielding body.

Gallea had to drag her right arm out from under herself to flatten. He pinned her at the small of her back with a hand, wallowing in and out, squeezing and spreading her buttocks with his other so he could watch the violation.

Argent smiled at the flush on her face, the crease between her shoulder blades where she tried to struggle to her elbows on the bed.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked between lazy thrusts.

She twisted her neck to look at him. “Are … are you … done?” A pink tongue wet her lips. “You don’t want to … I mean …?”

The innocent confusion was wrecking his self-control.

“Ohh, I want to, Gallea.” Watching himself disappear into the pink of her was a nightmare. He couldn’t take it.

“Please,” she said, hair a mess over the side of her face. “I want it.”

He groaned and caught her by the hips. “Do you?” The grey fabric of his uniform trousers bunched on his thighs where they braced her apart for the taking. “Until I finish?”

She bit her lip, eyes closing with a furrowed brow. “Yes.” Her spine arched, presenting the prize he was already claiming. “Yes, Admiral.”

Argent growled. Out loud. She gasped when he left her, but it was only to make the quickest work of stripping off the rest of his clothes. Gallea had begun to turn to see what he was doing, but he was pushing her legs wide again, mounting her again.

That smooth, pert ass, twitching and vulnerable above his skewering prick, turned Argent into an animal. While Gallea panted under the industry of his fucking, he plied the pale cheeks apart with his thumbs. Lecherous, he let the saliva pooling under his tongue drip down in a silver line to land in her crack and roll toward what came next. He smeared a thumb in it, kneading puckered flesh where her body sealed her tight.

Gallea sucked in air and her eyes flew back open.

Oh, yes.

Argent pushed his spit into the little pink pucker with that thumb.

“Oh!”

Her breathy cry made his blood surge, but he had her staked wide with his knees. His thumb worried the knot of muscle guarding the drum-tight hole until he could press it in to the web of his hand and grip her from inside in the filthiest of ways.

Gallea’s panting came hoarse now as Argent penetrated her in both places. Hoisted her ass with that confusing thumb while he opened her pussy below, stroke after stroke. Only when the Archregent’s daughter fell to delirium, a glaze on her eyes like she didn’t know the day of the week, did he slip his cock from her heat.

He was slick, and she was drunk on new sensation. Unguarded. Without the pressure, her body expelled his thumb, and Argent had the head of his dick there to replace it. The pliant hole he’d worked to relax swallowed him past the head before the tight ring snapped in place and Gallea gasped.

“Argent!

The haze burned away from her eyes in a flash. Her fingers grabbed at the bed cover, elbows trying to push her up, buttocks clenching. He massaged the globes of flesh while her bowels tried to push him out. Argent held her in place and sank low to cover her back, knees slipping wider to spread her against retreat.

“Ohh, but this is what you wanted,” he said, kissing the back of her shoulder. “You wanted your first time to be with a grown man. You wanted him to finish.”

Argent let his hips move now, let his fat crown sally in and out, just past her entrance. Her fingernails dug into the back of his hand, where it pressed into the mattress alongside her face.

“Ah-Argent.”

“Well I’m a grown man,” he cooed, “and I’m going to finish. You want me to put a baby in you? Would you like to explain that to your mother?”

“N-no?” The word rose at the end, light panic at more than one prospect, both of which Argent was threatening.

He combed gold strands away from her cheek so he could watch her face while he pushed and stretched her a little more.

“Then this is where you’re taking my come,” he said, and pressed deeper. “Right here.”

“Argent.” A hiccough of breath followed his name. A mewl and squirm of her thighs, her buttocks against his groin. He pushed hot kisses along her cheekbone.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Making love to a virgin isn’t easy. No one tells you these things. It’s something you dream about, and when you imagine it, it’s all velvety smoothness, warm apple pie, maybe a bit of giggling and awkwardness. But here’s the reality: it’s like trying to shove your cock into a clenched fist. No one tells you that part. But’s let me say this: it’s all worth it the first time you hear the desperate yelps of someone losing control, someone feeling shudders of pleasure feel they didn’t realize were possible. And then you feel those tiny little pelvic muscle spasms that let you know you just gave a girl her first orgasm. That is something I’ll never forget.

But let me back up a bit. It took me months to get to that part. I think a little background is in order first. For starters, I’m 29 years old. I had, quite reasonably assumed that my deflowering years were well behind me, and that was just one experience I was never going to have. I’ve always found myself with more experienced girls, from Kimberly Jansen, who took MY cherry back in senior year of high school, right through my last girlfriend. I’ve never really had a good enough rap to get any girl to part with her virginity. It takes a more predatorial type, and I just don’t have it in me. The closest I ever came was being second — that was when I was a junior in college, and a wide eyed freshman was drunk enough to let me go all the way and then told me she loved me, just before puking on my couch.

So it must have just been fate that brought Katja into my life. I had just broken up with my long-term girlfriend, with whom I was sharing a two-bedroom apartment. I started looking for a roommate to help with the rent, but also because it was getting lonely around the place. A friend of mine worked over at the medical school, and someone in his program was looking for a place in the city. But, he asked, did I mind living with a girl? She was 26, and had just arrived from Prague. For some reason this had me picturing a squat, frumpy woman who cooked strange stews and spat out her words when she talked. I asked him if she was normal (because I this mental imagery had me a bit spooked). He said she was quiet and rather serious, but very responsible. Oh, he said, and she’s quite attractive, so if nothing else, it will be some nice scenery to have around the apartment.

Katja showed up the next day to check the place out. Far from being squat and frumpy, she was tall and rather stunning with the type of white blonde hair more commonly associated with Scandinavian girls. I didn’t know they had that color hair in the Czech Republic. No one tells me these things. She had a bulky winter coat on, so I couldn’t really check out her body, but at this point I was really just looking for help on the rent, and honestly had no designs on sexual conquest. OK, so it did cross my mind, but I’m only human, okay? She was a bit socially awkward, and shy about her limited English. It was a strained conversation, but she was definitely interested in the apartment, if nothing else.

“I like dees place. I vill take it.” She had a heavy accent, and it seemed cute and incongruous coming out of her mouth.

“Well, we’ve got a deal then,” I said, not having any idea where this would lead me.

——————-

It was about a month after she moved in before I first figured out that she was a virgin. We had started spending a decent amount of time together. It started with watching TV in the living room (each of us on a separate couch). Then she started cooking meals for me, which was a nice little perk in its own right. We also occasionally went for jogs together. One day, when we had just returned from a run, we started discussing her life experience, or lack thereof:

“But, you’ve had boyfriends,” I ventured.

“Not in a long time. I am very busy with studies.”

“So when’s the last time you kissed a guy?”

A long pause followed. “Something like six years. And we only dated for short time, two weeks I think.”

I was in disbelief. “So you haven’t kissed a guy since you were 18?” This didn’t add up. The girl was stunning. She had to have guys knocking down her door constantly.

But she nodded shyly, confirming this impossible fact. She was clearly a bit embarrassed to admit this. The blood was still pumping pretty fast from our run, and this news caused some of that blood to get instantly diverted to my cock. I quickly sat down before I got a hard-on. The sight of her tight little ass in those jogging shorts was just too much. A drop of sweat rolled down her neck and disappeared into her cleavage.

“So you’ve never… done it?” I asked. By this point, I could have guessed the answer to this one, but I wanted to hear her say it.

“Yes…. I am virgin.” The ‘v’ in virgin came out halfway between a ‘v’ and a ‘w’. This word, in this exotic accent, was like an electric bolt of energy straight to my cock. I suddenly felt as hopelessly horny as a teenager. I stole another look at her firm little breasts, perfectly showcased by her jog-bra. Her nipples were erect, possibly from the exercise, but possibly because she was as turned bodrum escort on as I was.

“But you’ve done other stuff…” I wanted to hear her tell me about some guy feeling her up, or the story of her awkward first blowjob. Anything.

“No, only kissing.”

“You’ve never let a guy touch you?”

“No.” She looked down at the floor, obviously uncomfortable with this line of questioning. I took the opportunity to let my eyes soak in the curves of her body. My god, I needed to see her naked, it was simply imperative. I had to figure out a way. Maybe I could drill a hole in the wall between our bedrooms.

I finally stopped fighting the oncoming hard-on, and let my cock strain against my shorts. I was sitting down, so there was no way she could see it, but it felt as huge as a third leg. Outwardly, I was the perfect gentleman. “You really should, you’re a very attractive girl you know. You could have your pick of any guy you want.” Like me.

“Yeah, well…” she drifted off to her bedroom. As she left, and my eyes watched her ass swish out of the room.

After that conversation, the pressure in my cock was so unbearable it felt like my balls were going to explode. I really hadn’t felt this horny since I was about 18. I threw myself onto the couch, and tried to think about something else. But my thoughts kept straying back to Katja, and I found myself trying my hardest to imagine her naked body. My hand went into my shorts to check how swollen my cock really was. Soon, of course, I was stroking it gently. After a few seconds of that, I heard her bedroom door open, and quickly yanked my hand back into the open. Luckily I was laying at such an angle that my hard-on wasn’t obvious, and I had enough time to pick up a magazine, so it looked like I’d just been lying there reading. Her footsteps came closer, and she hurried through the room in her bathrobe, headed for the bathroom. She kept her eyes downcast, no doubt feeling vulnerable in her near-nakedness. The shower! She closed the bathroom door, and left me alone in the living room again with my raging boner.

The idea of her naked in the shower provided a rich new vein for my little fantasy. I needed to stroke myself again. However, I take the risk of having her walk out and catch me… what if she had forgotten a towel or something? I waited until I heard her step into the water before I decided it was safe to start jerking off again. Now that I knew she was in the shower, I started going at it with renewed vigor. As i caressed my swollen cock, I shut my eyes and pictured the steam rising around her perfect body. I had pictured her naked a thousand times, but now I thought about how this time I knew she actually was naked, just 2 rooms away. I pulled my shorts down for better access, and started jerking faster. It was too much to take. I decided to do something really stupid. I got up and tiptoed over to the shower door. I would just take a peek.

I could hear the sound of running water, and Katja singing something softly to herself. I knew my hormones were affecting my judgment, but I just had to get a look at that body. Luckily for me, the know on our bathroom door often got stuck, so the door didn’t ever click shut so much as just swing into a closed position. There was no lock to speak of. I knew that a tiny nudge would dislodge the door from it’s closed position and allow it swing open a crack. This actually happened all the time on its own — it was one of the downsides of living in a creaky old apartment. I put my hand on the door and gave it the gentlest of pushes. It gave under my pressure, and swung open about an inch. It was just enough to give me a view into the room.

The mirror was half steamed over, but in it I could see Katja bending over to shave her legs. This meant that the first naked glimpse of her I got was not an innocent thigh or nipple, but a unrestricted view of her ass. Even though she was 25, she had the underdeveloped body of a teenager. Her legs were skinny and coltish, her ass was high and perky, not yet understanding anything of gravity. Her skin was milky white and flawless. It was better than I could have imagined. As I watched, my hand went to my cock again, involuntarily this time, and started to rub up and down over the head. I was delirious, and my eyes followed the slithering lines of her body, and wandered across the broad expanse of her back. Katja’s arms worked the razor up her skinny legs in short strokes, and every time she moved to reach further down, I got a peek between her ass cheeks at her small mound. Her virgin pussy. I thought about how no guy had ever gotten his hands on the delicate blonde peach fuzz that covered the pussy lips. No one had slid a finger into the soft wetness. I stood and watched like this for a full minute, making sure that I could duck out of the way if she turned around. My hand was moving quicker and quicker, and my breath was starting to come in quick gasps. I knew the moment wasn’t going to last forever, and that I needed release before she finished her shower. But I wanted to see her tits, but she was bent over with bitez escort back to me. I was getting real close to blowing my load, but I wanted to see her tits. “C’mon, stand up,” I thought to myself as I jerked myself to the edge of orgasm.

Finally, she finished with her legs and started to stand up. As she did, I caught the sight of her pert little breasts in profile, hanging like ripe fruits. Her nipples were almost the same color as her skin, and they were sticking out like tiny pearls. She stood up to gather her hair behind her back, in the process arching her back. This made her tits stand out from chest, then flatten down as she leaned her head back. I pictured myself cumming all over them, shooting streams of cum which arced up to lick the bottom of her chin, then fell onto her tits and dripped from the end of her nipples. As I pictured this, I felt myself start to cum for real. My shorts were around my ankles by now, and I cupped my balls with one hand, and machine-gunned my other hand over the head of my cock. My eyes stayed glued on Katja’s tits while I started shooting all over the wall next the bathroom door. It came in quick bursts, four of five right in a row, which splashed against the wall. I started to lose awareness of my surroundings and thought I might pass out. I was imagining cumming on her, cumming inside her, cumming simultaneously with her. Fortunately, my orgasm stopped and I returned to my senses in time to see Katja moving to turn the water off. I pulled the door back an inch, so that the it was again closed, and slinked away to find something to clean up my mess before she came out of the bathroom.

——————-

That was about the time that decided to make it my mission to have her. To hell with the consequences and complications of getting involved with your roommate. I was too focused on the present. I found myself daydreaming about her at work, trying to preserve the mental image of her naked body, looking forward to getting home and seeing her. I found myself flirting with her more openly, trying to weaken her defenses. But I also knew that for a girl that beautiful to go six long years without kissing anyone, those defenses had to be pretty strong indeed.

In the end, it was my old friend alcohol that helped me in my quest. One night we were sitting around at home on a Friday night, and I suggested we go around the corner for a drink. One drink led to four, and as we staggered out of the last bar, I decided it was now or never. But when I went to try to kiss her, she pushed me away, protesting, “no, we can’t do this.” Back at the apartment, rather than going straight to her bedroom, she stayed out in the living room to talk to me. And the second time I went in for a kiss, she succumbed. We spent the next few hours making out on the couch, quite innocently. Her lips were full and sensual, and I would have never guessed she was out of practice. Or perhaps it was the eight years of buildup all trying to release itself at once. Whatever it was, it was intense. I tried my best not to let her feel the raging erection trying to burst out of my jeans. I knew I was going to have to move really slow, and I didn’t want to freak her out right off the bat.

For the next month we had a pattern: at night we’d watch some TV on the couch, start making out, dry hump on the couch for a while, then both head to our separate bedroom, so sexually frustrated we could barely sleep. Without fail, every time I tried to slip a hand under her clothing, it got pushed back. I remember this month clearly – it was the horniest I had ever been in my life. And since we were living in the same apartment, I didn’t really even have any opportunities to jerk off and relieve the unbelievable pressure. So I just walked around with blue balls all the time.

Ironically, as I started making some progress the problem only got worse. There were nights when I was able to finally wriggle a hand into her bra, or loosen her jeans. Eventually I was able to get her to undress down to her underwear. And all of this only made the pressure more unbearable. I began to wonder whether it was possible to just spontaneously blow a load in my pants.

———————————————–

Then one night everything started to change. It was the night that I managed to get her completely naked. She was lying in my bed, trying to preserve her modesty by hiding behind the sheet, but she was naked all the same. And she was far more beautiful than I had ever imagined. Her skin was milky white and I couldn’t help running my hand up and down her body, from her face and neck, in between her pert breasts, down over the bony expanse of ribs and hips, down over her porcelain thighs. It was smoother than I imagined skin could be. She was trying unsuccessfully to hide her tits with one arm, and every time I tried to move her arm away she protested.

But she couldn’t hide her excitement. Her breath heaved in and out and she seemed on the verge of losing all self-control. Though she kept her legs crossed out of modesty, she kept rubbing her bodrum merkez escort thighs together to stimulate herself. I gradually moved my caresses down between her thighs. She resisted but breathed even harder. I pried my way between her legs and began to gently caress her pussy, first running my hand up and down over the hair, then locating the wet spot, and proceeding to spread her juices up and down her slit. I zeroed in on her clit, rubbing circles around it as it grew under my fingers. “Stop. We shouldn’t be doing this”, she protested. She slid a hand down to move my hand away, but her hand ended up pushing against mine, adding to the pressure on her clit.

“Why shouldn’t we be?” I asked. “It seems like you like it.” Then I realized something. “You’ve never had an orgasm, have you?” I asked. I knew she hadn’t ever messed around with a guy before, and I was guessing that she was too shy to even get herself off.

“No, never.” This just kept getting more unbelievable.

“Well relax, Katja, because I’m going to give you one.” She looked scared. Scared and aroused. It’s been said that lust is somewhere between sex and fear, and Katja’s face betrayed this very mix of emotions right now. With one hand I was gently rubbing her clit, and with the other I was exploring the contours of her tits, her hips, her ass. I took advantage of the fact that she was out of her mind with lust to slip off my jeans and boxers. Now we were both laying there naked. I put both hands on her hips and placed myself over her, running the shaft of my cock up and down against her tight little pussy for a few seconds. I knew she would stop me, but I wanted to test the limits.

“No, I am not ready yet.” came the helpless plea. She wanted it, I could tell. She was scared out of her mind, but deep down in the animal part of her brain, she wanted to fuck.

I moved off of her, and slid my hand back down to her pussy. She was so wet now that my finger slipped right in, causing her to let out an audible moan. I started to finger fuck her while I mashed my hand against her clit. She was wriggling under my hand and bucking her hips. “Do you like that?” I asked her. I wanted her to talk dirty to me.

“Yes, I like. I like ven you touch me there.” Her accent had never sounded so sexy. She started to moan with increasing urgency. I took out my finger and rubbed my whole hand up and down her cunt. I found her clit and rubbed it hard. Her head was arched back, and her hands had balled up into little fists. “Uhnn. Unnhhh….. s-s-something… is happening,” she whispered. It was then that I could feel those little muscle spasms beneath my hand while I rubbed. It was the cutest thing I had ever encountered. She was moaning loudly now, completely unaware of herself. I could feel each shock wave pass through her pussy, each tremor. Her orgasm lasted at least thirty seconds.

When she was finally finished, she opened her eyes and looked up at me. “I had,” she said. I didn’t stop to correct her grammar. She was grinning from ear to ear. She was still raring to go, guiding my hand back down to her drenched cunt.

By now, my cock was throbbing and begging for attention but I had figured out that she was scared to touch it. I interlaced my fingers with hers and guided her hand towards my cock. She resisted, but I forced her hand downward, wrapping her fingers around it. Her hand was motionless. She was like a deer trapped in the headlights.

“I dun’t know vat to do,” she said.

“Well, let me show you”. I loved playing teacher. This was great. I placed my hand on hers once more and guided her hand gently up and down my shaft. At first she couldn’t get the hang of it, and she tentatively pawed at it. I stopped her hand and showed her where the most sensitive areas were, and how to properly stroke it. After this her technique improved slightly. The thing is, I was so turned on, it didn’t matter what she did. It was going to work. She continued to work her hand awkwardly up and down, fully concentrating on her task.

“I’m no good at this,” she complained. While I knew she was right, I nevertheless found myself getting closer to shooting a load. I decided to hold back for now.

“You’re doing just fine,” I assured her, folding my arms behind my head and stretching out. I let her pull on it for a few more minutes, occasionally running my hands along her smooth skin. I reached down and started gently massaging her clit. She let out a long sigh and stroked my cock with renewed intensity. We laid for a while like this, both on our backs, slowly jerking each other off. I felt the cum start to gather momentum again, and I decided it was time to introduce her to the wonders of the male orgasm.

“Ummm, that’s good. Faster.” I coaxed her along. “You’re doing great.” I sat up a bit, so my cock was close to her face. She was bent over and fully concentrating on her efforts. “You wanna make me cum, baby? You wanna make me cum?”. She nodded. I was fully engaged in the moment, and determined to drag it out a bit. I could feel myself on the edge of a monster orgasm but I held on and elongated the moment. I watched the way her little tits swayed as she pumped her arm. I felt the way she ground her pussy against my leg, and the way her soft hair tickled my stomach. Most of all, I watched the way her tiny hand worked up and down over my throbbing cock. I wanted this moment to go on forever. I wanted to cum all over her and never stop cumming.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Note to readers: This is my most recent story and is in a similar vein to other works of mine, in that it involves performance of bodily functions in a medical setting. Please be aware that it includes descriptions of the elimination waste. If the subject matter is not to your taste then you may prefer not to read further.

I am grateful to my wonderful friend and mentor, lesliejones, for encouraging me to publish the story on Literotica. All participants are over 18 years.

*****

She looked again at the letter, the one that had arrived seven days ago, as though by reading it yet again it would say something different. “…your appointment is for 2 pm, Thursday. Get up at the normal time, and go to the bathroom and shower as usual. To help the procedure go more easily, please check to make sure your pubic hair is neatly trimmed, similarly any hair around your anus. You might prefer to shave the area completely, though it is not essential.

Eat normally at breakfast, and a light lunch at noon, when you also take the contents of the sachet dissolved in half a pint of water. Drink sufficient but do not visit the bathroom again after lunch. If you are worried about being taken short you might like to wear the waterproof padded briefs (enclosed) under your skirt. In any case bring a spare pair of knickers. The need for this will become clear to you when the time comes.” That’s today. She checked the directions provided for travelling by bus since she was currently without a car.

* * * * * * *

Fay Walters was 37 years old. She had dark, medium length wavy hair, as yet no signs of grey, and still attractive in a quiet sort of way. At a svelte and elegant 5’8″, she kept her figure quite well, though the constipation she frequently experienced was beginning to result in a slight abdominal bulge. She was cultured and intelligent, and while she held down a professional job in the publishing business, she had sufficient spare time for leisure and social life. Rather surprisingly she never married, nor had she had any serious relationship with a man, or a woman for that matter, and this was a major source of unhappiness. Fay suffered from a particular phobia – she was highly self-conscious about her bodily functions. As a girl her strict upbringing has impressed on her the importance of cleanliness (next to godliness) and chastity. But her sensitive mind had over-responded and could not bear that anyone would see, hear (or smell) the evidence of her using the toilet, particularly someone she knew. At work and also socially this was difficult to manage, but she was able to schedule and control her functions better than most people and it was more or less possible to live a normal life. As long as she never became really close in a relationship. Her sexual needs were dealt with privately, since she could not accept that anybody else would become aware that she had any. But as long as she was alone in her own flat and her own bed, she was able to indulge in whatever perverted fantasies and masturbation practices her mind could invent.

But recently the problem had become more acute. An increasing work load, more interaction at meetings, and some new friends meant that she was finding it harder to schedule her day to accommodate her body functions, and, feeling unable to break off and visit the loo, she was suppressing this vital part of her daily life. She was beginning to suffer from digestive problems, loss of energy and appetite.

By chance magazine left carelessly in the office common room caught her eye and she noticed in the ads section many offers of counselling and therapies for a variety of personal problems, especially the more embarrassing ones. Some of them specifically mentioned phobias and disorders such as incontinence, elimination of waste. It was a few days before she plucked up the courage to make even an initial phone call to ask for details, but when the information pack arrived within a couple of days she was reassured by the sympathetic wording and careful explanations given. There was a short questionnaire in which the multiple choice boxes made it very easy (emotionally) to fill in her personal details and indicate what was troubling her. She was glad she didn’t have to find words explain her problem. Under the question “Would you like us to arrange an initial appointment for counselling/therapy within the next few weeks?” she crossed the box marked “YES”.

It was some days before any reply arrived, and when it did she was beginning to have second thoughts. But the letter accompanying the package was reassuring and she resolved to go through with her decision. The part about wearing incontinence briefs worried her slightly, but she supposed that in the circumstances it was not so unusual. Inquisitively, she opened the packet and examined the briefs. They were well padded, and she stroked the soft fabric. On impulse, she tried them on and found they were more comfortable than she expected; the padding was soft and the elasticated waist and leg-openings özbek escort were not too tight. She felt a bit like a naughty child again, feeling the padding against her crotch and pushing her gently apart. She wondered what it would feel like to pee into them.

* * * * * * *

Fay took care with her routine on the day in question. She knew that her pubic and anal areas could do with a trim, and for the first time in several years decided the shave completely. She quite enjoyed giving the area some attention, and appreciated the increased sensitivity as she ran her fingers over her new smoothness. “Whatever happens today, I’ll enjoy this in bed tonight”.

She took her lunch, with several cups of tea, remembering the tablets. She realised she must choose carefully what she would wear since she did not want anyone to notice the padded briefs she had on underneath, and decided on a generously cut, navy blue skirt. A pale yellow blouse she wore on top, over her lacy cream-coloured bra. The matching panties she would take with her. She did not expect to have to wet her briefs, and could never have brought herself to do it voluntarily, but she almost hoped her bladder would become full and she would be forced to go in them. “OMG,” she thought “what if it happened on the bus.”

In fact, while still on the ride she felt the pressure building up in her bladder and was unable to completely hold it in as she got up from her seat. Despite her earlier musings, the last thing she wanted was to wet herself with all the people around, and she was blushing deeply as she made her way of the bus, with the urine still trickling into the padding of her briefs. She was terrified that everybody else would hear what she was doing, but it seemed there was enough noise to kill the sound of her going. “Perhaps it happened because I’m nervous” she thought, “I was scared I might mess them, how could I face the doctor then.” As there was no public toilet near the stop and she had to walk carefully, avoiding eye-contact, to the clinic.

The bus had stopped in a part of town Fay never visited before, and she needed a minute or so to get her bearings. The buildings mainly had shopfronts or were small businesses, somewhat old fashioned but not too dirty or run-down. The street was moderately busy that Thursday afternoon. She realised this was the old Main Street of what was once a separate village, so Calder Road should be another 50 yards past the Post Office, as described on the note. Yes, there it was, quite narrow and inconspicuous. Naturally she was nervous, about the forthcoming examination apart from having to face the doctor with wet knickers. Fay was glad that the area had a quiet anonymity where she would not be recognised.

The house she was looking for is number 15. In her mind she counted the houses now …”That’s 5, no number there but it must be 7, then 9, 11 … yes the white building, no its 13A. Number 15 is a small dark red brick building with a narrow path going round to the side. There is the sign, “Dr J M Steiner, Holistic Therapy Clinic.” With relief she realised she had successfully found the location on time. She made a mental check that she had done everything as instructed.

Fay walked up to the blue painted wooden door, slightly ajar, and entered. It led into a small reception area; at a desk sat an attractive lady with dark chestnut hair gathered simply in a ponytail. She looked to be in her early forties and was wearing a white lab coat, unbuttoned to reveal pale yellow cotton blouse and dark blue skirt. As she stood up Fay saw how tall and elegant she was, nearly 6′. Smiling warmly, she introduced herself.

“Hallo Miss Walters, Fay isn’t that right? Good, I hope you’ll be comfortable and enjoy your visit here. I’m Dr Steiner – please call me Margaret. I hope you had no difficulty finding the clinic, I see from your address it was quite a long ride by bus.”

Fay was hoping she would be able to go to the toilet and get out of her wet briefs, but before she could speak they were interrupted by the entry of a young and attractive blond girl looking very smart in a short-sleeved nurse’s uniform, newly starched, blue with a white cotton apron. She was shorter than the doctor, perhaps 5’6″, and though fairly slim she definitely had a few more curves. “Ah, perfect timing. I want you to meet Fay, who is with us today. Fay, this is Jenny, my excellent assistant. She will be pleased to assist you in any way you wish. Please would show Fay into the examination room, and help her get ready. Oh yes, and take her measurements as well. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Margaret said you should undress completely for the measurements. After that you can put on the robe hanging there. But just ask if there is anything you need help with. Do you want me to look away while you undress?”

She felt it was unreasonable to ask the girl to look away, even though she was shy about being seen undressing. But as she pulled the azeri escort blouse out from the waistband of her skirt and started to unbutton, she was surprised to be feeling a little thrill of excitement at disrobing in front of the pretty young nurse. She took off her blouse and put it on a hanger, then removed her skirt which Jenny attached to the hanger via its fasteners. Fay felt incongruous to be wearing a lacy, cream-coloured front fastening bra that matched her own knickers but not the briefs she wore now. Standing just a couple of feet away, Jenny admired the smooth globes that tumbled from the garment.

Fay was also anxious about telling the young nurse that she had on sopping wet briefs designed for incontinence sufferers, and she did not want to say that she needed to visit the toilet. Sensing her awkwardness, Jenny thoughtfully broached the matter. “This must be your first visit to us, and I see Doctor Steiner gave you a pair of incontinence-briefs to wear. Did you already wet them?”

Realising that the nurse knew, she blushed again and nodded to confirm. “OK, that’s alright, it normally happens so we expect it. I’ll help you off with your skirt so it does not get wet from any leakage, and then I’ll take your briefs and dispose of them. I expect it was rather uncomfortable, but I hope not too embarrassing.”

She carefully helped Fay take down the skirt and folded it over a hanger. “Now let’s get rid of these.” Jenny undid the ties at each side to release sodden garment, and carefully removed it so as to avoid spilling too much of the urine. Fay felt a bit nervous about showing her recently shaven sex, yet strangely exciting to have the attractive young nurse attending to her in this way.

Jenny used a towel to carefully dry the skin around her buttocks, her crotch, and between her legs. The towel was warm and deliciously soft, and Fay enjoyed the ministration. “I’ll use some talc to dry you properly, if you like” she suggested. Jenny seemed quite unfazed as she knelt with her face just a few inches from the older woman’s shaven pudenda. She had very gentle hands, and smoothed the powder so close to her intimate places that Fay became aware of her arousal. All too soon the gentle pampering finished and the nurse helped her into a soft towelling robe. “There, I am sure you feel better for that.”

It took just a few minutes more to measure height, weight and vital statistics. Fay saw that she has gained a few pounds and a few inches round the waist. “It must be the constipation I keep getting,” she thought, “it’s as well I decided to arrange this examination.”

Fay was calmed by the girl’s caring manner and the way she helped her on with a light cotton robe that wrapped around and held together with a belt round her waist. She looked very young, early twenties perhaps, and everything about her conveyed a sense of freshness and eagerness. “How long have you been working with Margaret?” she asked.

“Only three months. I have not quite completed my nursing qualification, and for part of my training I am doing this work here – I chose to do this part at a special clinic like this, as it is quite different from general practice or hospital, much more personal and really interesting. Often the people who come for treatment have guilt feelings and are embarrassed, so we concentrate very much on relaxing them and making them feel good so we can work on removing these problems.”

“It doesn’t bother you if someone has wet themselves and you have to deal with that?”

“Not at all. Sometimes they are messy as well, but I never mind that.”

Just then Margaret entered the room. She had changed from office clothes into typical doctor’s attire of light blue cotton scrubs. “I’m glad you two are getting to know each other. Jenny, you will need to change into your special duty uniform today, and while you do that I’ll explain the treatment. You can come back in 30 minutes.”

“Fay, I want to explain that your treatment here has two aspects – physical and mental. Physically we must deal with the accumulated fecal waste in your bowels. That is simple; the preparation you took will make it easier to pass your waste through to your rectum and to void. Today’s treatment session will make a good start on clearing it out. After another week of taking the prep you will have lost the extra pounds and inches. You’ll also feel much better. But first let me do a quick examination of your abdomen. Please go to the couch and lie on your back. You need to open your gown but you can use the towel to cover your modesty if you wish, I don’t need to see you down there at the moment.”

She went to the exam couch, lay back, and was about the cover herself from the hips down by holding the towel. But she then decided she might as well leave herself undraped. Doctor Margaret said nothing but was pleased at Fay’s was showing signs of overcoming her inhibitions. She also enjoyed the unhindered view of her entire pelvic area, türkmen escort giving her a chance to appreciate the delicate contours of her shaven pudenda, her labia and the slightly glistening valley. She walked around the couch, looking carefully at the abdominal bulge, before placing her hands flat on either side of her belly button and gently pressing. As she moved her hands up and down, across and round she noticed the bounciness which testified to a slight overfilling and a buildup of gas. “OK, that clearly confirms you have accumulated waste as was already indicated by your irregular bowel movements. The good news is we can fix that easily.”

“Dealing with the mental side is more challenging. We shall begin an interactive therapy. It requires you to participate, and for that you have to release your inner self and let it express itself. As it has been hiding for so long it will be nervous and uncertain, so we need to coax it out. We will work together on this. We will help but you need to play a big part as well.”

“We want you to feel good about everything here. Today we will help you confront the problems you have with some aspects of your personal routine, ones that I know have been bothering you. There will be an element of interaction with us in the form of gentle physical contact and counselling. Please know that there are no taboos or limits about how you respond, or what you say and do. There is absolutely no need for you to feel ashamed or guilty about anything. Just be relaxed about everything that happens and I hope enjoy it. That way you will be able to accept and embrace your inner self. Jenny will be the one working most closely with you. I want you to understand that, within the prescribed schedule of the session, she will be at your disposable in every way. You mustn’t be embarrassed about anything at all.”

“Let us look now at the answers from your questionnaire. Your life is clearly very controlled. I would say you are exercising too much control and this is affecting your personal routine and your physical health, potentially your emotional health as well. So we are going to help you let go of a little bit of that control. Your control is also suppressing a lot of your natural desires and aspirations. I think that is probably because you feel guilty about them. Do you think that might be true?”

Fay thought for a moment “Yes, I believe that is so. I’d like to change that but I don’t know how. I get embarrassed about people seeing me go to the ladies loo, and about talking to men, except about work.”

“OK, it is good that you are recognising it. I realise this is not easy for you and you have done well in being able to speak about it. I am going to ask you about yourself, starting with ordinary routine questions, but getting more personal and intimate. If you can be open about these things then we can build up a better picture of you. In order for you to become more relaxed I shall ask Jenny to first give you some light massage. You are already naked from the waist down, but it will be best if you remove robe so she can massage you properly.”

***

She led Fay through a door to a large wet area with showers, white tiled walls and blue ceramic floor. In the middle was an examination table underneath which was a hole for water to drain away. She took Fay by the hand and helped her lie on her back with her arms along the armrests at the side and her head resting on the pillow. The table was comfortably padded and there was a large white towel over the white vinyl covering.

When the nurse returned Fay was surprised to see that she was wearing a uniform made entirely of rubber and fitting snugly. It was in the same light blue as the cotton tunic with a white panel in the form of a bib apron and came just about down to her knees when standing up. It didn’t look as if she wore anything underneath as it showed her body’s smooth contours and her nipples pushing against the thin fabric.

Seeing her, Margaret remarked “As always you look very nice in your uniform, Jenny. I’m sure you’re wearing protection underneath, but I do need to check.”

In answer the nurse raised the hem of her tunic to her waist to display her tight rubber panties matching the blue of her tunic, and did a slow turn. They encased and showed off her deliciously rounded buttocks and mound.

Fay couldn’t help but admire the way the rubber moulded itself to her contours, and hinted at the dark valley between her cheeks and emphasising her prominent camel toe.

“Perfect Jenny! Now I’d like you to help Fay relax with some gentle massage while I ask some questions.”

“Fay, in order for you to become more relaxed I shall ask Jenny to first give you some light massage. You can wear a one-use slip if you like but I suggest you take the opportunity to being nude with us. You don’t need to feel any shame about how you might react.”

Fay recalled the beautiful sensation of Jenny’s gentle hands on her body after her shower but did not feel she could let herself be massaged completely nude. She no longer felt embarrassed about her whole body being seen, but was scared that if Jenny touched her intimately she would be unable to hide her arousal. She might even climax and completely disgrace herself – she’d be so ashamed. So she asked if it was OK to wear my knickers.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

With many thanks to Kumani for editing this story.

*

Beginning with a single kiss less than an hour earlier the dynamic between Stephanie and me, tortuously stagnant for so long, had suddenly begun to surge. In roughly the same time it took the summer storm passing over our city to release the rain and electricity charging the air, Stephanie and I had released a charge of our own, one that had been building unabated between us for the past two years.

Now we lay wrapped in each other’s embrace, kissing on an uneven and improvised bed of coarse white work towels atop an old wooden table in the Donut King’s kitchen.

“That was a nice surprise Jason,” Stephanie complemented me between quick and panted breaths. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

“Oh, I had it in me all right,” I replied, a bit short-winded myself, “and I’m pretty sure I got most of it in you.”

She laughed but her comment had stung me slightly as she had no doubt intended it to, but I understood what Stephanie meant. Her parents owned the donut shop where we worked and she’d had a steady boyfriend until recently so I’d kept a somewhat reserved demeanor around her, at least until this morning. Although she had sensed and encouraged my desire for her clearly she’d begun to wonder if I would ever act on it.

“So does this mean you’ll go out with me?” I asked as I gave her sweet and yielding lips another light brief kiss.

“Was that your way of asking?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Stephanie’s coal dark eyes gleamed as she coyly bit one corner of her lower lip while she pretended to ponder my question.

“Sure,” she said after a requisite pause. “Now you can answer –“

She might have had more to say but having already waited two years for the chance to be with her in any way other than as a co-worker and all that time wondering what her lips would feel like pressed to mine, I kissed her again slowly and deeply, savoring her tender sweetness.

Her heated body pressed beneath mine radiated a mesmerizing mix of aromas into the cool morning air of the kitchen. Stephanie’s breath brushed feather light on my face while I reveled in every deliciously laden inhalation that I drew from across her flushed skin. It enticed me enough for me to pause here and there to breathe in deeply as I kissed my way down her neck. With a long, soft sigh she laced her fingers in my hair and held my head close to her as I kissed the hollow between her breasts.

Citrus-like scents drew me to Stephanie’s wet ebony hair still clinging in dark streaks to her glowing face and shoulders. Its coolness chilled me in a good way as I buried my face in the black tangled locks. While Stephanie purred I lightly bit the soft skin of her throat, then she gave a contented sigh as I kissed my way slowly back up her neck seeking her pliant and inviting lips again.

The sweat and rain mix of moisture coating the silver cross and chain Stephanie wore about her neck caused the metal to shine brightly under the fluorescent lights above us. Laying amidst the tangles of her jet hair the ornament seemed to direct me to the spot on her tawny skin just below her left ear where she had daubed some of the maddeningly compelling perfume she wore each day.

Then Stephanie’s warm lips brushed my ear and she whispered.

“Kiss me.”

Complying, my lips pressed once more to hers as I cradled her face in my hands. With the raw pungency of her musk still clinging to my fingers, I pulled her closer to me.

We wrapped ourselves tightly about each other and I luxuriated in the warming press of Stephanie’s body as it held the chill of the still cold kitchen off my own wet skin like the softest of blankets. Closing my eyes I kissed Stephanie again and wondered if I’d ever enjoyed a kiss more. The electric pulse of delight that ran the length of my spine when her tongue touched mine gave me the clear answer.

No.

Who knew laying rain soaked and naked on an old wood table could ever feel so good?

It was then that the bells over the shop’s front door clanged, shattering our all too brief moment of fulfillment. The dissonance of those damn things was as jarring as if lighting had struck in the parking lot just outside.

“Oh, FUCK!” Stephanie swore and unapologetically pushed me off of her and the table at the same time.

We scrambled for our clothes and hurriedly dressed. She decided to skip putting on her underwear, opting instead to just step back into the soggy uniform that lay clumped on the floor for the sake of speed. Stephanie hadn’t taken off her tennis shoes for our feverish encounter, so once she’d snapped up her wrinkled and damp front-fastening jumper, she simply pushed the hair back out of her face and headed out front to greet the customer.

With the arrival of that first patron it occurred to me that there wasn’t much in the way of donuts to start the day with other than some of the previous day’s leftovers, something that Stephanie’s dad, Mr. Nick, would not have accepted had he been there. Chances are he wouldn’t feriköy escort have been too accepting of me doing his daughter on top of the kitchen table either, but then I’ve heard fathers can be kind of old fashioned that way.

Chuckling at the thought of him chasing me around the kitchen with a large knife, I none the less realized that without Stephanie’s parents who were back in Greece visiting family for two weeks, that we’d be hard pressed to keep up with the day’s demands, especially for the house specialty — cream filled donuts — unless I could clear my head and get a fresh batch started soon. Otherwise we’d be ill prepared for the invariable rush of customers after Sunday morning services began to let out.

“What do you put in these things that make them so good?” I’d often heard people ask Mr. Nick to which he would waggle a finger in gentle admonishment.

“It’s a secret,” he’d reply smiling proudly.

If there really was a secret ingredient to Mr. Nick’s recipe it wasn’t on the copy I had. Still people loved the damned things and were willing to line up for them, so I began gathering the bowls and ingredients for the batter mixes and got started.

Stephanie burst through the double swinging doors and strode back into the kitchen. She smiled at me, aglow in that way girls should be after good sex and began sifting through the towels we had spread on the table top until she found a dry one. Keeping one eye on her and one on my work I earnestly began mixing some batter.

When she’d found an acceptable towel, Stephanie gave a quick glance over her shoulder back towards the double doors. Satisfied that she couldn’t be seen from out front she raised the hem of her uniform waist high then pressed it to her stomach with her left hand. Looking down the length of her taut body while her full head of gloriously midnight black hair fell in shining waves over her still uniform-clad breasts, she studied her ebony thatched mound and the liquid steadily leaking from it.

My eyes feasted on Stephanie’s succulent curves once more. For the first time I took note of the tan lines traversing the silken olive swell of her hips as she pulled the uniform hem up higher and tucked it under her chin. Tan lines brought thoughts of the sun which must have come up sizzling I reasoned as it suddenly began to feel very hot in the kitchen.

Mesmerized, I watched as Stephanie pointed her toes out to the sides and bent her knees slightly like a ballet dancer starting a plié. Glistening trickles and smears of our joyously secreted fluids mingled on the soft, tawny insides of her smooth thighs. Beaded droplets of cum twinkled like wet stars in the black night of her pubic hair.

Stephanie bunched the clean white towel she held in her right hand and pressed it to the inside of her right leg just above the knee. Slowly she drew it upward. The rag, like it was a terry cloth tongue, thirstily lapped up the mixture of sweat, girl-goo and sperm that glazed the insides of her toned and lissome leg.

All thoughts of donut preparation and my control of the batter I was mixing were suddenly lost.

“Is that a new kind of donut you’re making there?” Stephanie asked without looking up.

“Shit!”

A copious amount of batter had slopped over the edge of the bowl forming an amorphous mess on the table top. Grabbing one of the other towels from the pile I started trying to wipe up the spill.

It wasn’t easy. Aside from contending with the thick, slimy batter hopelessly smearing across the table top, my eyes kept being pulled back to Stephanie. She really didn’t need a towel, one word from her and I would have eagerly fallen to my knees and laved her skin from knee to groin with my tongue. Instead riveted I watched and felt the throbbing return to my loins as she repeated the process with her left leg.

Next she turned the towel in her hand and wrapped it over two of her slender fingers. Beads of sweat formed on my brow as she parted the burgundy and brown colored folds of her labia. Tucking her tongue in the corner of her mouth, Stephanie carefully dipped her towel wrapped finger tips into her glistening pit.

From where I stood I caught flashes of her watermelon pink and wet insides as she moved the towel in the dark, clasping furrow of her pussy. Aching to run my tongue over those tender ridges and folds once more, I tried to lick my lips instead but found my tongue uselessly dry.

Stephanie held the towel inside her a moment letting it wick up our commingled cum before she carefully pulled it back out. The now sodden cloth glistened under the bright kitchen lights.

Then the doorbell clanged once more.

“Damn it,” Stephanie fumed, annoyed by yet another intrusion. “They’re just going to have to wait a minute.”

She tossed the used towel back on the table and cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards the door then turned back towards me.

“Hand me my panties, please.”

Still damp with her secretions, I pulled them from my right kayaşehir escort pants pocket and reluctantly handed them over to her. Knowing they still bore her scent, I had hoped to keep them to savor her heavenly musk over and over again. Instead I watched sorrowfully as she stepped into them and pulled them up. Letting go the hemline of her uniform from under her chin, Stephanie smoothed the drab cloth of the jumper down toward her knees.

“Can you hand me my bra?” she asked, as she unsnapped the top of the uniform and quickly peeled it from her shoulders.

Instead of complying, my eyes fastened once more to the fulsome delights before me. Tipped with chocolate colored nipples and covered with a sheen of rain and sweat, her breasts glistened under the bright kitchen lights. Just let me kiss and suck them for five minutes I mentally pleaded and as if they could read my mind, Stephanie’s nipples hardened like rock candy, seemingly anticipating how my yearning mouth would savor them.

“Bra, please” she repeated.

Handing it over to her I watched Stephanie wrap it about her waist backwards, fasten the clasp then turn it right ways and pull it up while bending forward slightly to capture those beautiful and succulent breasts. All too quickly they were enclosed and covered once more. She slipped the straps over her shoulders then stood straight and started to fasten her uniform back up while I ached at the sorrowful sound each time a snap clicked in place.

“How do I look?” Stephanie asked as she attempted to smooth the hopelessly wrinkled uniform over the curves of her ripened body.

“Not nearly as good as you do naked and sweating,” I managed to say, “but not bad.”

“I guess so,” she replied, arching a black eyebrow and tipping her head toward the bulge at the front of my pants.

Stephanie laughed and gave me a kiss, trailing her hand up my leg and giving my erection a quick squeeze through my pants.

With a smile and a wink Stephanie practically bounced out the doors to the counter out front. Well give the devil her due. Even after fucking her, Stephanie had me craving a second helping. And so I began to understand that just as with a summer storm like the one we’d been caught in this morning, relief from the heat was always just temporary.

Wiping sweat from my brow with the back of a floured hand, I knew it was going to be a long, hot day. Then I noticed the towel Stephanie had balled up and tossed carelessly onto the table. Picking it up, I unfolded it as eagerly as a pirate would a treasure map.

The dank cloth shone and sparkled in some places while it glistened in others. Bringing it close to my face until it nearly touched my nose I drew a deep breath and found the rag filled with tangy scents. A smile came to me and I buried my face in the towel, breathing in deeply and savoring each musk laden inhalation. After several long draughts of it I started to become lightheaded. When I was satisfied that I had successfully imprinted her core essence permanently on my brain, I tucked the towel in the pocket of my apron.

The sound of Stephanie rattling the coffee maker out front as she switched out pots reminded me that there was a customer and this brought me out of my aromatically induced daydream. Hearing the door bells once more, I bent forward a little so I could peer through the Plexiglas panels in the kitchen doors to the public area of the shop, waiting to see who it was this time that was breaking my private little moment.

It turned out to not be a customer but Ray, the old dishwasher who came shuffling in. I had forgotten all about him working this morning.

Ray was an old guy who made it a point to only shave once a week and judging by the thick stubble on his face, today wasn’t that day. He nodded at me as he passed by then sleepily tied his apron on and poured himself a cup of coffee. Ray always tried to steer clear of Stephanie and her sharp tongue but as he was flipping a few switches and filling the soap dispensers on the dishwashing machine, she breezed back into the kitchen past him on her way to the office.

“Goooood morning, Ray,” she greeted him, smiling and practically singing the words.

It was impressive to see the old guy’s head move so quickly as Ray whipped his head around to stare after her open mouthed then reversed direction and swiveled it back towards me. No amount of effort could suppress my grin as I felt my face redden. Ray opened his eyes wide, laughed and shook his head. Since he was missing half his teeth, his uneven smile looked like a jack-o-lantern’s a week after Halloween, but he positively beamed and gave me the thumbs up.

“I told you a good fuckin’ was all she needed,” he cackled after Stephanie had passed through the double doors again to go out front.

Maybe it was all she needed but the question forming uppermost in my mind now was, is that all she wanted?

With Ray’s arrival though, I resigned myself to the workday. There was to be no answer to my question that yenibosna escort morning and the rest of the day just became a steady, busy blur. All three of us were tired and sweaty by closing time. After Ray shuffled off to the bus stop, I offered to help Stephanie lock up, thinking we might talk.

She set the alarm and we stepped outside the shop. The sky had cleared since the storm that morning but the day was still very hot, breezeless and humid. Once outside the air conditioned shop my skin began to feel as if it were coated with a sticky glaze. My shirt collar tugged at the back of my neck with my every movement as I keyed the front door lock. It often stuck when the deadbolt jammed against the frame instead of sliding correctly into the slot if you didn’t get it aligned just right.

Wiggling the key and alternately jerking and pushing the door handle to no avail I tried to get the bolt seated as my annoyance and embarrassment grew by the second. Tired from a long day and feeling like I was being broiled in the afternoon sun, my temper quickly got the better of me.

“You worthless son of a fucking BITCH!”

“Easy, boy,” Stephanie soothed. “Here let me help you.”

She lightly placed a soft hand on top of mine and gently pushed on the door handle. The key seemed to turn on its own and the bolt clicked effortlessly into place.

“I didn’t even know you had a temper. You’re always so patient,” she commented.

“I am patient,” I answered though still hot, annoyed and somewhat flustered. “But I guess I have my limits.”

“Do you?”

Something in her tone suggested that she found this to be useful information.

“Yes, I do,” I said turning to face her full on. “I’m sorry, I guess this heat’s just getting to me.”

“It’s alright,” she reassured me with an easy smile. “The heat gets to me too sometimes.”

We talked for another minute or two but it was just too hot even for conversation, so we just made plans to go out on Wednesday night after work and said good-bye.

The next couple of days were nearly unbearable in more ways than one. First, all I could think about was Stephanie but we were always so busy we barely had the chance to talk for more than a few minutes at a time. Second the heat and humidity had steadily rebuilt since the storm Sunday morning to nearly unbearable levels.

Still, like a kid anticipating Christmas morning I practically counted down the minutes, but at last Wednesday night arrived and I eagerly drove to Stephanie’s house arriving right at six. Pulling into the driveway I could see it was a nice place, not a mansion mind you but plenty big, much bigger than the home I grew up in. The white bricks of the house made it gleam imposingly in the afternoon sun as I stood at the entry.

Even after having known Stephanie for two years and having had sex on a tabletop with her, I still felt a fluttering in my stomach and a tingling in my chest at the thought of seeing her. Ringing the bell, I stood as calmly as I could and tried not to sweat in the still hot afternoon. Thankfully she opened the door a moment later.

She was dressed simply, just a button down blue cotton blouse that showed her tanned and sleek midriff. Stephanie’s silver cross glittered at the neckline and her khaki shorts showed off her sleek legs down to her leather sandals.

“I’d tell you that you looked nice but I’d be lying if I did,” I said in a mock serious tone at which she cocked her head slightly and arched a black eyebrow. “You really look beautiful, Stephanie.”

“Thanks,” she said and smiled as she ran her hand along my jaw before kissing my cheek. “You’re sweet.”

Stephanie locked the front door to her house and we walked to my car. We went to one of those family style sports themed combo chain restaurants, one that I chose for the variety, hoping Stephanie would find something on the menu there that she’d like.

The hostess recognized Stephanie from somewhere or other and they exchanged pleasantries. Then after giving me the once over, she led us to a booth. Our waiter, who also happened to know Stephanie, brought our beverages and informed us of the specials. It was a busy place and people were frequently passing by our table. A good number of them recognized Stephanie and stopped to say hello to her, wave or stand for a few minutes tableside to chat while I worked to maintain a smile.

“I didn’t realize how popular you are,” I commented once we were alone again.

Stephanie gave a shrug as if she couldn’t understand it herself.

“It’s mostly because of the donut shop. Karen, the hostess, and I went to high school together. Our waiter, Steve, whose name I only know from his tag, is in my Algebra class the rest are all customers at the shop.”

“Still we’ve worked together for what, about two years now?” I said, setting the menu down as the thought came to me; “It really just hit me that I don’t know all that much about you.”

“What do you want to know?” she answered, and took a sip from her Dr. Pepper.

My first inclination was to ask her about school or something equally as innocuous just to get the conversation started. Instead my attention was drawn to Stephanie’s long tapered fingers stirring her drink with a white straw. She let go of it only to let her wet pink tongue catch the underside and pull the tip into her mouth while she watched me in anticipation of a question.