Where it happened: Aunt's House
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 10
Category: Straight
The first time I was ever fucked was so awesome that it has been hard ever since to be satisfied with my sex life. It was the fulfillment of a fantasy so erotic and breathtaking that “regular” sex is only good now when I’m with a really, really skilled man.
I was only 17 at the time and I was in Japan, on a 2 month summer modeling assignment. Even though my home base was in New York, the Japanese fashion industry just loved my type: honey blonde hair, very babyish looking, but extremely petite and with large, full breasts. I guess those men like to fuck baby types. Anyway, judging from the lascivious looks I got on my auditions, they liked the combination of my full lips, high cheekbones, spilling breasts my tight waist.
My mother (smart girl) didn’t trust me too much on my own, since back in NYC I was a pretty naughty tease at the night clubs the models from my agency frequented. I would always wear the bare minimum, thanking god everyday for the fact that I COULD wear such clothes to such good effect, and that I was able to make grown men act the way they did. I even had a couple of “gay” designers jerk themselves off during fittings, even though they thought I couldn’t see them through the light muslin curtins of my dressing cubicles. I mean, duh — if they could see my tits through the curtin, couldn’t I see them? Well, anyway, that’s when my fantasy really started, I mean, when I started to get addicted to voyeurism.
I was staying with my Aunt Karin, therefore, for “protection,” during my stay in Tokyo. She is a decorator for the rich and kind of a jetsetter — but my mom didn’t know how foolish it was to leave me alone with Karin, but my aunt is only 10 years older than me (on MY side!). I had the place all to myself while she was on a buying trip to Bali.
Her apartment is great. She lives in a section that is only affordable to foreigners or the very richest Japanese. Her unit is on the 37th floor of a really ritzy tower in the best section of Tokyo, and it is decorated like a harem’s inner chamber. It is one huge living space, without walls. The walls are covered in deep cobalt silk, and there are only chaises and huge pillows in all kinds of incredibly lush and expensive fabrics — all jewel colors. The place looks like a goddamned museum.
The only problem with Tokyo is everything is so close together. This place was designed by a famous architect who made light of the space problem by putting huge, floor-to-ceiling glass windows between the walls that adjoined different apartments. My aunt liked to frustrate her neighbors by not ever hanging drapes. . . as I say she liked the “less is more” look.
Her neighbors, real blow hards, were a Grosse Point family of dry-cleaning fortune. VERY bourgeois, VERY lame. They looked down upon my aunt and her entertaining habits. She was kind of a socialite and always had the press around covering her parties — they WISHED they could be accepted by the elite of Tokyo.
The wife was the worst. Dyed blonde hair, teased into a football helmet, always walking around in tacky pimento-colored Chanel suits and a sweating highball as a permanant accessory. THEY had drapes: heavy, enormous gold and powder blue brocaded jobs. However she like to open them and look at my sister’s place disapprovingly every once in a while.
Lately, when I had been coming home from jobs pretty late in the evening, I noticed that the curtains were tightly drawn, except — inexplicably — for a three foot gap on the edge of the fifteen foot span. This woman was so anal I was surprised she had missed it. Anyway, I had been enjoying sitting on my favorite grouping of pillows, just watching the workings of this middle-class family. The parents were always yelling — what I couldn’t hear — until lo, who should show up but sons (?)! They were almost as funny to watch, they were complete clones of their stupid parents — obviously they ran the business while mom & pop shacked up in Asia. These 30-something mama’s boys wore ties and slacks all the time. They looked as uptight as their folks and all they ever did was watch the television, drinks in hand. I found myself pretty fascinated with one of the “boys,” a well-built, tall, handsome guy with nice thick fingers and a good grip on his cocktail glass. He seemed pretty depressed by his family. He mostly sat in an easy chair facing away from them, facing my window, reading all the time.
So I know I’ve taken a LOT of time setting this whole thing up, but it was all important. Remember I mentioned something about “voyeurism”? Well, by now you’re thinking that I must be talking about liking to watch other people — being really sneaky. That’s not quite it. Why was I still a virgin at 21? Well, the thing is, I truly get off on myself. I mean, objectively speaking, I’m intoxicating. I’m 5’7, but my legs are incredibly long, I have long graceful arms and naturally tawny skin, a nordic face, silky hair, and a face to fuck to. I was having so much fun getting men to buy me dinner and leave their girlfriends, that I really never got to the point of having someone over. But I get off off off on looking at myself, on thinking about what the men are wanting, on looking at my pictures on covers, and in magazines, and in catalogs, and knowing what looking at those pictures do to men. I get off on looking at women’s bodies — but I’m not a lesbian. It’s just that looking at a hot woman and feeling what I know men must feel makes me drip a little. Then my hand shoots down between my legs, and I finish myself off.
So the point is that my fantasy isn’t to watch someone else — though I find that fascinating — it’s to have someone watch me. I can’t think of anything sexier.
One night, I lay on the pile of cushions and sat watching this guy sitting not 10 feet away, with nothing between us but a pane of double-glazed. I had some Sade on the stereo, and I just lay there watching this man, thinking how lonely I was in Tokyo. None of the “regulars” around to give me attention. None of my girlfriends to look at and talk to. I started thinking about this man, about what it would be like if he ever caught me staring at him. Would he be angry? Would he smile? Would he want to close the drapes? Up til now, he hadn’t really turned me on, but suddenly I started really looking at him. I let my head fall back gently on the edge of the down chaise behind me. There he was, broad shoulders curved around as he pored over an over-sized atlas. Noone was there but him, and except for his reading lamp the lights were extremely dim on his side, dimmer than on my side. It made it hard to see him, hard to see his strong quads through his gabardine trousers, hard to see his waving brown hair. But I watched and thought.
Suddenly it occurred to me in my revery that if it was hard for me to see him, it was easy for him to see me. I caught a vision of myself in the floor to ceiling wall opposite and saw a vision of beauty and invitation. I gently unbuttoned my crepe silk blouse, and looked at my cleavage coming up out of my black lace bra. My head swam with visions of that man, sitting 10 feet away, watching me. I pictured him in the small circle of light, eyes riveted on me and thick fingers stroking a long, thick shaft. I almost felt the overwhelming tide of desire as I imagined him looking at me, as I was now touching my own breasts, and as I reached behind me to put up my heavy long hair in a knot, letting my breasts swing slightly forward.
I turned to look, but it was all my imagination. There he sat, stubbornly reading. Still, the fantasy was taking over my body and my nipples were standing out now, and I turned back to the mirror. I unhooked the bra from the front and let it simply fall to the side. I didn’t even bother to take off my blouse. I just looked at my incredible tits and thought of him watching me, jerking off on me. I couldn’t wait anymore and I pulled up my short black skirt and slid off my panties. My suede heels stayed on, and I propped up one leg on a high pile of magazines.
The sight of myself, skirt around waist, tight stomach leading up to round tits, and my legs spread open, was gorgeous. I turned up the lights a little with the remote control and began staring at the man across the way.
I looked at his face, intently, as my hands massaged my breasts and moved down my body. I didn’ see him sitting there as he did, concentrating on his stupid book. I saw him in my mind’s eye as I WISHED he were, getting off on me. I found my wet pussy with my long slender fingers and slipped my middle finger into my lips. I shuddered at the slick warmth, and when I pulled out my finger I felt the coolness as the wet juice dribbled down toward my ass. Watching him, watching his face, willing him to look at me, I found my clitoris with my wet finger and began to rub all around it as only I can. My right hand went up to my breast and as I flickered over my hot snatch, I alternated between watching myself and watching this uptight fucker sitting right across from me. I though Jesus, I’ve dreamt about this for three years, and this glass pane is finally letting my fantasy come true. I kept my fingers working nimbly on my clit, lightly, then hard, keeping up a steady rhythm. I put my other hand there, too, and used my fingers to fuck myself as I masturbated with the other hand.
I got kind of caught up in my ecstasy, and was only thinking of this guy in the dark, when I finally looked over at him again. He was staring at me! I felt a shudder go through me and I rubbed faster and harder. He was looking, looking at me with surprise but with desire. I turned more fully toward him. I put the fingers which had been in my twat into my mouth and then I started in on my tits. All the time I was doing a number on my swollen clit, and wetness was pouring out of my slit. This man and I were locking eyes, and I was feeling a dark tide of pleasure I had never ever known. He was giving me a hard look, a daring look, and soon his hand went to his crotch.
I threw back my head and let my hair fall as I sat up onto my hand. I could feel how flushed my face must be as I watched him double fist his own cock. He was kneeling on the thick white carpet now, slowly feeling himself up as he watched me intently. What was so fantastic was that he knew how to keep himself in the shadow, keep it as if I didn’t know I was being watched. I looked at myself in the mirror, knowing he was watching me, and I fucked three fingers, pumping my ass up and down, black heels flat on the floor. I finally fell back and smeared juice up onto my clit again. I was riding a crest of orgasm, but I knew how to keep it from overwhelming me. I knew how to keep the excruciating moment of pleasure going for a long, long time. After all, a 21 year old virgin knows how to take care of herself. I slowly, almost imperceptibly, began circling my clit with one finger, leaning forward to watch it rise up with engorgement. My finger was so wet that it slipped off the top like a button, and I closed my eyes as I used two fingers to explore the depths of my pussy.
I turned my head toward the window, to get a good gaze of this guy watching me get off. But.
He wasn’t there. I guess he’d had enough. I looked back at myself and played back the moments when he first caught sight of me, and worked my clit as I pushed my hips against my own hand. Suddenly the door opened. I must have jumped a mile. Shit! It wasn’t locked? I thought it was Karin and scrambled for a cushion to cover myself. Out of the shadows stepped the man. He was walking toward me, fast, not saying a word. I told him to stop, but he just fell down on his knees next to me, tore away the pillow, and looked down at my body. He grabbed my wrists and held them over my head. I was so stunned I just watched him unbutton his pants and pull out his cock. He asked me if I was going to give him any touble and I just nodded no.
He let go of my wrists and after looking at me closely for another 15 seconds, he pushed my legs apart and pushed his face into my pussy. Oh! I contorted backward. . . I never imagined what a tongue on the clit felt like! It was like slick velvet, wrapping around me, fluttering against me. He took some of his thick fingers and pushed them inside me, like a hook, tickling inside my pussy as he lapped at my clit. I thought I would go mad and I couldn’t help coming and coming and coming. Before I knew what was happening, he had both wrists in his hands again, and he was on top of me. He didn’t bother to take off his clothes. He just slid his (huge!) cock inside me and let out a low groan. He must have had incredible sensation in that thing, because he moved it around inside me like another thicker finger, and he used his hand to manipulate my clitoris all the while.
I thought I was going crazy with pleasure. It was a good thing I was “ready” for his cock or I would’ve been in serious pain. The thing is, the Japanese have these short fat carrots that they sell on corner fruit markets, and I wasn’t new to pussy penetration. Only I was new to a quivering, hot, moving, thick penis. It was fantastic.
At one point he leaned over and started sucking on my tits as he shoved short, fast strokes in and out of my pussy. Goosebumps raised all over my skin and I lifted my hips for him. He smacked my thigh and pushed my legs so they were straight out in front of me, flat on the floor. Ah, a new sensation. I could feel the wetness of his penis as he fucked my tight thighs and then the tip of his dick touched my pussy. God! Not very uptight! He taught me a lot that night! I wanted him full in me though, was sick of the teasing, and I whimpered for him to fuck me harder. He pulled back and flipped me over, ripping cushions out from under me. With one strong arm he put one extra large pillow under my crotch, and I heard him unbuckling his pants. I pushed against the pillow to feel the pressure on my clit, and lifted my ass toward him.
He fell with a bang on his knees, and he grabbed me by my hips, lifting me up to his cock. His fingers played in my waiting pussy for a moment, and then I heard gutteral sounds come from his throat as he held onto my ass with his hand and used his thumb to fuck me. Suddenly he slipped his cock into my slippery vagina and he began banging the hell out of me, telling me what a stupid dangerous little slut I had been. He was moaning over and over with every stroke of his shaft in my hole what a bad girl I was, when I saw it.
See, this guy wasn’t facing the window, but my face, shoved to the side and getting a good rug burn as he fucked my pussy from the rear, was.
He didn’t see his brother, who was now the guest of honor in the easy chair, stroking his cock. I did.
I was the one who began bucking against his cock, causing him to slap my ass and tell me to cool it. I was the one who wriggled of his penis, making him cry out. I was the one who pushed him to the floor and sat on his face, watching my tits bounced as I smothered his mouth with my pussy, thinking of his brother’s hand wrapped around his cock next door. After I pulsed a finish into his face, I stood up over this man, and told him he’d have to go. He told me not until he was finished. I told him he’d have to finish himself, and he started jerking off right there. He sat up a little and his hand flew across his cock, as I reclined in front of him. I’m not even sure how it happened, but he had suddenly tackled me and burrowed himself deep into my pussy again. I was no less wet, and he used my snatch to bring himself off, calling out what a fucking slut I was.
Can you see how nothing could ever quite live up to that experience? Oh, but it was a good summer.
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