The Story of M
The Adventures of Maggie O
Titillating Tales
It seems to me that most of us must have some fairly interesting tales of coming of age, or sexual awakening, or first experience and that others might actually benefit from those experiences, in addition to the fun of hearing titillating tales. So, where to start? This is the story of the major sexual milestones of my life. I was a member of the ‘brain’ click in high school. It was my impression then and now that we were looked up to by our classmates. My girlfriends and I talked a lot about sex, and had a running contest with prizes for first place… i.e. first to get laid. The guys we dated seemed interested too, but we were all apparently too clumsy to actually do anything. By my senior year I had become fairly attractive, and had attracted a suitor who was very cute and fairly cool; I’ll call him Tom Thumb. When we ‘made out’, he seemed to know what he was doing. I guess we would have ‘done it’, but I sort of screwed that up. One time we all went swimming in our underwear and I was real embarrassed because Tom’s penis appeared much smaller in his wet underwear than the other guys. He said it was the cold water, but the other guys were in the same water. Well, in any event, he seemed to lose interest in sex.
College – The Freshman Year
For a number of reasons not important to this story, I went to a state university- A Big Football school. I seemed to get a lot of attention during rush, partially because I was smart, and fairly attractive. I pledged a sorority, and had a very interesting big sister. Betsy thought it was her primary duty to prepare me, and some of the other virgin initiates for our first sexual experience. She would give us lectures on how to perform various acts. She even had us ‘finger’ ourselves so that we would bleed less when we finally had sex. She would tell us in great detail of her experiences with her ‘fantastic’ boyfriend. He played football for a rival school, and she couldn’t let many other people know about him. To cover up, she would date several boys on campus, and seemed to be intimate with them also. She would fix us up with dates with football players, and guys from an affiliate fraternity and encourage us to have sex with them. I had been in quite a different group in high school. We were very introverted. I found all this both exciting and frightening. Betsy once entered me in a wet t-shirt contest, and another time in fraternity island party bikini contest. In the t-shirt contest, she cut the shirt so that, once wet, at least one nipple was exposed if I didn’t hold the shirt on with my hands. The bikini contest was worse. Betsy made a skirt out of palm blades and a top out of two leaves, all held together with string. When I got up to dance in the contest, he whole thing fell completely apart! We were stuck on an island and I had absolutely nothing to wear but a string around my waist. I tried to stay seated with a paper plate on my lap and holding a bag of potato chips in front of my chest. I was terribly embarrassed, but, luckily it was very dark. The drunk guys kept groping me. I thought I would never get through that night! However, I did get almost daily requests for dates for a long time after that.
Probably the worst thing Betsy tried to orchestrate was a combination initiation and blowjob lesson (for us), and pledge reward party for our affiliate fraternity. We were supposed to find these guys in a darkened room and anonymously give them oral sex. We had lessons for a week where we practiced on various inanimate objects, and tests where we had to suck pudding off Betsy’s fingers. She said she was going to bring her dog from home to practice on, but, thankfully, that never occurred. I thought this was the most absurd thing to be doing, but I wanted to join the sorority and be popular with cool people, and it was very exciting. I would go from being totally repulsed to highly aroused just thinking about it. When the big night came, we all snuck into the fraternity house a.m. wearing little sleep teddies under our clothes. We had each drawn a room number, and were told to strip. I slowly slipped into the room. It was very dark, but I eventually was able to tell that there were three beds in the room, a bunk and single. On further examination, I could tell there was someone in each bed! Nobody had said anything about this! I stood motionless for what seemed like a long time, and then started edging toward the door. Then one of the guys whispered something. I started over to the bunk, and, feeling my way along the bed, felt the leg of a man sitting up in the upper bunk. Woops! I thought. I was still entertaining the thought of bolting from the room. Then someone, one of the other guys, took me by the shoulders and guided me to my knees in front of the boy in the lower bunk. Then the fellow who had redirected me started giving the guy in the upper bunk a blowjob. He was very animated, and it startled me. My arm landed in the lap of the boy before me. Immediately I could feel a warm liquid splatter on my arm and forehead. No one had told me about the smell, and it grossed me out! He just rolled back under the covers. I got up and went into the hall. Betsy was there and scolded me for not swallowing the stuff. I told her that there were three guys all going at the same time, and she seemed to accept that. I got off easy.
Then Betsy wanted me to go to a party with her boyfriend, Terry, from the rival school. It was the night before we had a game with his school. Betsy was a cheerleader and had to be seen with one of our players. She had previously stressed that you shouldn’t have sex with a player from our team the night before a game, but she said it would be all right to have sex with the whole opposing team. Football was the major concern in this entire state, so I never knew if she was kidding. She said it might be embarrassing for him to come in to the dorm, so I was to meet him out front in his white Corvette. When I came out, there was the white car was sitting at the curb. I stuck my head in the window. There were two Black men inside. I introduced myself, and asked which one was Terry. I never was quite sure which one was Terry; they were hard to understand, but I finally decided that the driver was Terry. Betsy never told me he was Black, but I could understand then her concern about embarrassment. It was less accepted to date Blacks at that time at that school.
When we got to the party, I was the only White person there. I thought I better have some beer, but they had added some scotch to it. I got very drunk very fast. All the guys wanted to dance with me, and the attention seemed to anger the other girls there. After a few ‘beers’, I was quite high and was really enjoying myself. I felt that no one has ever danced better than I was, although I fell a few times. Finally I like I needed to go outside for air, and it was getting late. Terry took me to the car. I felt talkative and blabbered on and on, occasionally noticing he was fiddling with my clothes. My head started spinning and I tried to lie down in the car. My head, of course, landed in his lap. He took his penis out. I started babbling that I couldn’t give Betsy’s boy friend a blowjob. He said all he wanted was for me to blow on it for luck. That seemed perfectly reasonable to me, so I blew at it. He told me to take a big breath and do it again. When I opened my mouth to take a big breath, he pushed my head down on his member. It is amazing how clever some guys can be when it comes to getting sex, and how foolish even the smartest drunk girl can be. I was shocked! But when I tried to struggle free to chide him for deceiving me, my head kept blowing the car horn. I was drunk. I decided to apply what I had learned from Betsy’s blowjob lessons to get this over quickly. I went at it with a vengeance! Betsy said to pretend I was trying to each some ice cream before it melted. I figured this was chocolate ice cream. It seemed funny at the time. Since my neck was all twisted, I pulled my legs up under me so I was kneeling in the passenger seat with my face in his lap. I could feel his finger go into my vagina, or fingers, or maybe his whole hand! It was much larger than anything that had preceded it. I could tell that both my skirt and my underwear were missing, and was worried about my butt sticking out the car door. He was poking his hand in and out of my vagina. I was getting so carried away with sucking his dick that I was becoming excited. Then I started feeling sick again. I knew I was going to throw up, and tried to struggle free. He seemed to think that was due to my excitement. He started in with his ‘oh baby’ talk. He grabbed my head with both hands and spurted into my mouth. Then I realized it was not his hand in my vagina! I started to vomit. That broke up the activity quickly. When I sat up and tried to get out of the car, it seemed like the whole party was blocking me. My clothes were on the ground and people were standing on them. Several of the men had their dicks out. Only when I started to vomit again did they move. I gathered up my clothes, now coved with vomit and footprints, ran into the apartment, and passed out.
From this point on my memory is not too clear. I have snatches of memories of waking up in various sexual predicaments, none of which I believe I entered into knowingly. I would wake up with a penis in my mouth, or someone screwing me violently. Finally one of the women came in and threw water on me. I was a mess. What I could find of my clothes looked like they had been used to mop the floor and smelled of vomit. I had something crusty all over my face and in my hair. My crotch was covered with some sort of greasy smelly stuff. I found Terry and begged him to take me home He said he would for Ten dollars and I had to promise to see him the next night. Then I knew that this wasn’t really Terry. I gave him the wrong number. He gave me syphilis.
I wanted to talk to somebody about this. I called Tom, and he flew in immediately to see me. He was really nice and supportive. But it didn’t seem right when he wanted to hear the details, and I wouldn’t tell him. He seemed hurt by this, and finally stopped seeing me.
Somehow the word got out years later and a number of guys who heard about it would ask me out. They also seemed interested in the details, and I eventually told a man named Frank. Frank and I soon married. A very interesting thing about the whole thing is that whenever things cool between us, if I can work my experience into a conversation, Frank becomes attentive again. Somehow it has served to sustain our relationship.
There time, however, that it looked as if we were going to divorce. Frank was moving out. I was deeply upset. Frank had arranged to have movers come to the house, and he was going to meet them and get his things. The movers were two Black men. They came early and I was in tears. I knew Frank would be there shortly; he was always very punctual. I told the movers that Frank was not coming, but I wanted to use the furniture one last time. I led them to the couch and took off my blouse and shorts. I sat on one of the men’s lap wearing just my underwear and started kissing his neck and rubbing his crotch. The other man pulled his pants down to his ankles and sat next to us, stroking my breast. He pulled me over onto his lap, while the first man slipped his pants down and stood with his penis close to my face. Remembering my previous case of VD, I decided to try using just my hand, rather than my mouth. Things were progressing faster than I had anticipated. I had just wanted Frank to catch me with the two men to make him jealous, I wasn’t really interested in having sex with them. With four hands and two dicks to contend with, I began to get concerned that I may have started something I couldn’t control. What if Frank was in an accident? Just as one of the men had taken my head and was forcing his dick into my face, Frank appeared. Everyone just froze. My mind started racing. What in the hell had I done? What had I hoped to accomplish? What would Frank do! What will the movers do? After a few s, Frank walked across the room and sat across from us, and said “Don’t let me stop you.” The movers were still apprehensive, which gave me time to think. I said “No glove, no love.” After I assured them I didn’t have any condoms, they made a hasty run to the pharmacy. As soon as they left, Frank rushed to me and we made love with more passion than we had felt for years. When the movers came back, Frank filmed me having sex with them. I put all the energy I could into the performance, sucking and fucking each of them several times. We didn’t finish filming for ten hours. We had to take several trips to the drug store for more condoms, several naps, and a lot of showers to complete all the action. I ended up giving them blowjobs without condoms because it filmed better. I could show my mouth full of semen to the camera and lick my lips. Frank and I really get along well now. We watch one part or another of the movie each week before sex. He has never been a better husband; he puts down the toilet seat and takes out the trash. He washed the dishes and makes the bed. I’d gladly have a fling like this once a month to have a man like Frank. At this point, I must say people are, and I have been, much to up tight about sex. If it turns two consenting adults on, improves their marriage and doesn’t hurt anyone, I’m enthusiastically for it!
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Margaret L
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