One of the little girls I work with was giggling at this site at the office and I got curious about what was so interesting. After reading a few of these “stories,” I thought I might inject a little reality into these rather amateur attempts at pornographic fiction, with the adolescent fixage on the size of certain body parts.
Here’s how it really happens: Tom and I grew up two houses apart. We went to elementary and high school together. He took me on my first real date, to the junior and senior proms, etc. We dated all through high school and I never had any doubt that Tom was the man I was going to spend my life with.
We did all the usual things in high school, including some incredibly heavy petting with a couple of times I had off everything but my panties, but we never seriously thought about consummating our relationship. Or I should say that we never talked about it. I SERIOUSLY thought about it a lot.
We both enrolled in the same college. Tom moved into a fraternity house and I moved into a sorority. (Living in the sorority house turned out to be a real sex education for me.) Tom and I were “officially” engaged, and most of our dates now ended up in his room with my clothes on the floor, and Tom’s hands and tongue all over me. He was so giving and SO wonderful and SO patient. I look back at it now and I can’t believe I was so selfish.
The summer before our sophomore year Tom’s frat decided to have an “Animal House” toga party before rush. (You can’t do that kind of thing during rush.) Despite what you might have read, except for the drinking most of these things were pretty tame. Most of the girls who wore togas had on clothes underneath, etc.
I was working in the sorority house helping set up for rush. It was just a few of the sisters. It was hard, hot work and we were drinking wine coolers all afternoon. (It was always beer at the frat houses and wine punch or coolers in the sororities.) Most of us were either dating guys in Tom’s frat or were little sisters, so we stopped work pretty early to get ready.
I guess we had been drinking a little bit, because when one girl asked what you wear under a toga, I answered, “A good tan.” That set off a big round of giggling and somebody asked if I was really going to wear only my toga with nothing on underneath, which I said I would if you will. One of the girls said “that sounds so-o-o-o sexy” and pretty soon everybody had agreed to wear only a toga “if you will too.”
That’s how I wound up riding over to Tom’s frat house wearing a pair of sandals and a sheet held in place by one brooch.
It took about one slow dance for our dates to figure out what we weren’t wearing. It was sort of hot (August) and after a couple of dances we were glowing and our ‘togas’ were sticking to our bodies and getting sort of semi-transparent. It WAS so-o-o-o sexy. There were nearly naked people all around us, dancing and kissing and caressing (and fondling) each other right out on the dance floor. I remember being so excited and so aroused that I still tremble when I think about it.
Couples started drifting away, but Tom just kept slow dancing, holding me so tight and staring into my eyes. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any more. I took his hand and said, ‘Let’s go upstairs.’ As we walked down the hall to Tom’s room we could hear the moans and the rocking of other couples making love and two couples who were too busy to close their doors completely so you could peek in as you walked by and see them intertwined, his mouth and hands on her breasts, her legs wrapped around his back.
I was so hot by the time we got to Tom’s room that I could barely stand it. I unpinned my brooch as I walked in the room and had my toga off before Tom could close the door behind us. I knew he was aroused (he was only wearing a toga) and I wanted him inside of me so much that it almost hurt.
I slipped off his toga. It was the first time HE had ever been naked with me. He was so beautiful and strong. I backed onto the bed and, even though all I wanted was for him to make love to me, he insisted (I didn’t resist) on a few minutes of foreplay. I remember he was kissing and tonguing my nipples and then he put a finger inside of me and I nearly exploded. I spread my legs apart and pulled him to me and I think I was saying something like, “Please, oh please.”
There was just a little pain when he came inside me, but not much and it went away almost instantly. Maybe it was because I was so aroused, so hot and so wet, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was because I was so comfortable with him (having been right to the verge of this so many times before).
All I remember for sure were the sensations of his mouth on my breasts and of him inside of me, squeezing him inside of me, conforming to him, feeling every ripple and bump and part of him sliding in and out, in and out, and in and out as we moved together. Every nerve in my body was on fire and I only lasted maybe a minute before he gave me a back arching, toe curling, fingers clenched in his hair take your breath away orgasm that seemed to go on forever but was probably only a minute or so. A couple of thrusts later I felt his muscles tighten and he pushed deep inside of me and I felt that warmth of him spread through me and I knew that was how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
And that’s what I’ve done. Tom and I are still together. And don’t let anybody tell you that marriage and kids and jobs steal the passion out of your romance. Only you can do that, when work or housework or cooking or shopping or whatever become more important to you than the person you married.
I made Tom promise me that night in the frat house that he would make passionate love to me every night for the rest of our lives. He hasn’t been able to keep his promise, but I guess we’re way up over 90 percent. And when we miss a night or two for whatever reason, I make sure he catches up with his ‘obligations.’ (I actually keep track of missed days.) He hasn’t complained yet and he still gets me as excited and aroused and satisfied as he did that first time. And it doesn’t have anything to do with how many inches or what cup size. It has to do with a man who is more interested in my pleasure than his own, and everything that I can do to show my love and appreciation. And that’s what it’s all about, boys and girls.
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Carla
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