Where it happened: in my grandma's house
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
Actually, my first, I mean very first time, was involuntary. I had been planning on saving myself for marriage. It seemed to me that it would be the most romantic and meaningful way I could go into my future with my spouse. I’ll tell you first about my actual, technical “first time”, and then about when I had what I consider to be my first time, that is, the first time I gave myself in love.
But as with many things in life, it didn’t quite end up that way. I was getting dressed in my bedroom one hot summer day after a shower when I heard someone on the stairs. It was probably the guy who was working on our house, who had been a friend of our family for quite some time, so I felt safe just grabbing my robe and going to the door to see if he needed anything. He needed something alright. And I couldn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t ready for sex, especially wiht someone who was not even my boyfriend or lover, and I could not have felt more helpless, defiled, or violated. When he left he just zipped up his pants and told me that if I told, he’d kill me. He showed me a knife and told me that I was the best pussy he’d ever had. He could have handed me a twenty- I don’t know- I just laid down on my bed and passed out.
The next day he whispered to me that he had blood all over his cock and that he was still wearing those bloody, dirty underwear as proof of his prowess. I punched him, and he raped me again. I was still too stunned and confused to do anything. I did end up going to the police and he spent two years in the pen.
On to happy things; something that is actually erotic and not sick. I wanted to talk about the rapes because they kind of set the tone and stage for my next sexual experience- my actual first time, the first time I voluntarily gave myself to a lover and wanted it every bit as much as he did.
We had met in Germany the previous year when I was studying there as an exchange student. We hit it off so well that we kept writing to each other, and despite the distance, I came to really know him and like him. I was psyched when he told me he’d be able to come to the US to visit me- so psyched that I thought about the possibility of sex, and even bought some condoms. The incidence had forced me to reevaluate my values about sex and marriage. Somehow and somewhere inbetween I decided that I did want to have sexual relationships prior to marriage, and my German friend seemed like a good candidate to kick off things with.
When we met, we had the same tenative, electric charge between us that had existed when I walked through the seperation gate and onto the plane that took me back to the US. He was very tall. At 6’4, he was taller than me by a whole foot, and taller than the average American guy by about 5 inches. And he was stunning. Beautiful, in fact. He was always so sunny- the blonde hair, blue eyes, surfer tan, and hard body made him my teenage masturbation material for years. The best part about him was just him of course, just who he was and what he was about. Even though he lacked the seriousness and ambition I came to later require of my lovers, he really knew how to have a good time, and was more honest and genuine than anyone. I knew it in my bones that he was telling me the absolute truth when he told me he cared for me a lot, and was nervous that we’d move too fast and mess up the chemistry and affection between us. But this was exactly what I needed at the time; his honesty and total lack of artifice lured me out of my depressive self-hate and invited the temptress in me to play.
How much of a temptress can a 16 year old rape victim really be anyway? Most of us look back at our early seduction attempts with knowing laughter- we could do much better now than we did, our inexperience was obvious at that point, even though we felt so sure of this new surge of sexuality. In the midst of that surge it is possible to feel like some total Sex Goddess. Your first time was so empowering that you did not know that you were inexperienced, clumsey, or maybe even cheesy. I certaintly didn’t realize it if I were any of those things, and I still don’t. when I reached for him and coaxed him with my eyes to join me, naked in bed, I knew on some primal level what I was in for, what I was going to do, and how it would drive us both past the point where any of our usual concerns like getting caught, making too much noise, or anything else would matter. Not even our inexperience would matter. I let my mouth tickle his neck; I felt him shudder in expectation and urgency. He supported himself with his arms over me as I let my tongue trail down his neck and chest. When I had worked my way about half way down, I raised myself up to trace my breasts against his chest. I tilted my head back and exposed my neck for his gentle kisses.
Passion can’t be contained like that. Hesitation is quickly conquered by urgency. We weren’t trying to control our passion, but it was, at least at first, the “do everything but” game. Again. We had done this before, in his car in Hamburg, in front of a friend’s flat in full view of as many people as cared to glance out their windows or pass by on the street. I left Germany wearing a turtle neck in the summer to hide the passion he unleashed on my neck. I wanted it again, more of it, on other, more sensitive parts. A boy had talked me into letting him lick me once when I was 13, but I hadn’t appreciated it. Now I wanted more than just a lick, I wanted him to eat me and like it, to eat me completely and then fill me fuller than any of the produce I had ever taken to bed.
He was grinding it against me. He was devouring my neck. My head was spinning and it felt as if the room was in its own orbit around earth. I felt as if my hands were inhabited by decades of experience as I drew him out of his pants and stroked him. Harder. He was even harder than before, and all I did was allow his cock to skim against my abdomen. I broke off our kiss to whisper to him about how when I would touch myself, I would mount my pillows and rub myself against them until the heat and friction was just too much, or I would place my produce on the pillow under me and use it for extra pressure as I rode my pillows to esctasy. I wanted to do the same with his erection, only on my back. He groaned at my revelation and gripped his cock, thrusting it up and down frantically. I moved his hand away and captured him. He moved to a position between my spread legs, and allowed me to take his cock and use it to rub that wet, panting area. His body shuddered.
He fought for control as I masturbated myself with his rock hard cock. He was huge, at least 8 inches long and 3 around, but he was probably closer to 9. Cum was starting to escape and was beading up on the top. Since I was on the Pill and I wasn’t worried about STDs, I continued to rub him against me, even more frantically now, because I was about to cum. It seemed like I couldn’t spread my legs far enough apart or grip him and flutter his head fast enough across my clit! She was begging for it. I could feel my own wetness running down my ass, making a great puddle of lust under me. He was sweating and shuddering, trying to maintain control and allow me my pleasure. He wanted to enter me.
All at once I felt it. It was stronger than my masturbation orgasms and took over my whole body. All at once I was a horny slut, goddess, girl, woman, child; sex driven fiend. I wanted that cock. I couldn’t play and torment the both of us anymore, we needed the real, hard thing.
I held him and motioned him to lay on his back. At first he was surprised. I had him on his back under me, and I mounted him. I grabbed a condom out of my bedside table. He looked relieved as I ripped it apart like a wild animal ripping another’s flesh and guided it over his rigid cock with one hand. His head rolled to one side and his hands grabbed my ass. He lifted me onto him, thrusting up as I settled down. I gasped. It was pins and needles, hot and cold. I could feel myself resist and give. And beg. My pussy was just so wet. I held his arms above his head with mine as I bared down on top of him, grinding and rubbing and positioning my clit against his base.
We were making noise all right, but we couldn’t hear ourselves. It was just so animalistic and raw. Three candles lit the room. The romantic tape we had been playing had long since stopped. On the street below, people were returning from a late night at the local recreation center ball game. And we were running some bases of our own, going for our grand slam.
I was drunk on pleasure and that damned addictive high that comes when you know you’re a sex goddess somehow, and you’re experiencing the wildest aspects of your sexual nature. It was all those horny masturbation sessions with my mother’s vibrator collection, the times I watched the neighbor guy mow the lawn without his shirt, the times I walked around outside with only a thin white tee shirt and no bra on, hoping that guys of all ages would grab themselves and seek relief at the sight of my large, firm breasts. I was all need and lust.
And so was he. He was meeting me and thrusting frantically, harder than ever. I couldn’t even feel exactly what he was doing anymore. My mind was just lost in the high of the moment, and in the infatuation I felt for my partner.
I kissed him and kept it up. His head rolled madly from one side to the other, and then back again. I knew what I was doing to him and I loved it. He held back as long as he could.
When he came and it was over, we took off the condom and lay together, spell bound and spent.
And then went at it again.
I’ll fix the ending more later an dmake it better. I’m just running out of writing steam, and I notice my lover is looking at me with a different kind of steam…..
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