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Mound City Orgies KS USA
Nieces for the Summer
Nieces for the Summer · Incest And Taboo · We were keeping my 2 nieces for the summer and the youngest would get up in the mornings with me while I had coffee and watched the news. She would climb up in my chair and sit on my lap in her Disney princess nightgown and lay back on my chest. She would always wiggle around like kids do and usually it would cause me to get 1/2 hard from her moving around. What I didn’t know is that she could feel my cock against her little butt and was trying to make me hard. After the second week of this routine she asked me what was the lump she was sitting on and placed her hand under her bottom right on my cock. This made it go from 1/2 hard to full diamond cutting hard instantly. I told her that was my penis and when it was sat on or held it would get hard and she shouldn’t grab it. I gave her a hug and said everything was ok and got up and went to the bathroom where I pulled down my shorts and started jerking off to make it go down. I came in just a few minutes all over the sink and as I was coming down from my orgasm I heard a little voice me behind me asking what was that? Are you ok?
Shocked that I didn’t hear her come in I tried to calmly tell her that when a penis gets hard the only way to make it go back to normal is to rub it until it shoots out the cream inside. She seemed happy with that explanation and said ok and went back to the living room while I put my shorts back on and cleaned up the sink, while starting to get another chubby thinking about her watching me.
So the weekend rolls though with the house full of people and so much activity I really hadn’t had a chance to think about what happened - too much. Monday morning my wife was taking my 2 nieces to a summer day camp but that morning my youngest niece said her stomach hurt and asked if she could not go. I work from home so I told my wife that would be fine and I would give her an update later on in the day. I got my niece some juice and a cup of coffee for myself and went to my chair to watch the morning news. She was already in my chair and had cartoons on the tv. I laughed and asked if I could sit with her. She giggled and jumped up to let me sit down then climbed in my lap. We sat there for about 10 minutes just watching tv and she wasn’t doing her normal wiggling of her butt in my lap so I thought that we had ended that morning routine. As I was sitting there feeling sad about that she spun around in my lap with her legs on either side of my thighs with her princess nightgown up high enough to just see the crotch of her light blue panties. She held her juice up to her mouth kind of hiding her face and quietly asked me if she could make my penis hard again - she wanted to see it.
I didn’t know what to say at first but my cock sure did. It swelled up almost immediately making a tent in my gym shorts. She giggled and asked if she made it do that and I told her that when a pretty girl shows me her panties and asks to see my penis it would always get hard. She asked if she could see it and I told her that she could pull down my shorts and take a look and that I wasn’t wearing underwear. She grabbed the top and pulled down about 1/2 way and just stared. I was so excited there was precum dripping from the end and she asked if I was peeing. I explained precum to her and asked if she wanted to taste it. She made a grimace and shook her head no so I milked put a glob and wiped my finger across the head of my cock collecting it and stuck it in my mouth. Mmmmm it was so sweet I told her. She was still holding my shorts down so I told her I would be more comfortable if she took them completely off and she could see better too. She stood up on the ottoman and pulled my shorts completely off then sat back down straddling my thighs, this time pulling her nightgown back so I could see all of her light blue panties and her little mound. Her legs were spread wide but I could tell that she had a puffy little mound and that made my cock twitch. She just sat there looking so I picked up my cock and pointed straight up at her stomach and asked her if she was wanted to touch it. She didn’t say anything but nodded her head so I took her left hand and rubbed her fingers across the shaft and then laid her hand there. She timidly touched it and slid her hand across my cock and pushed my balls around some. I was pouring precum by this time and she ran her finger across the head of my cock and gathered some on her finger, then lightly licked her finger. She then gathered up a glob from my stomach and sucked her finger clean saying it did taste good and that she liked it. I told her if she liked that she would love my cream when it came out. She asked me if I meant what shot out in the sink last week and I told her yes, that when she made me get all hard I had to rub it until my cream came out. I then asked her if she wanted me to show her how to do that, and she smiled and nodded her head yes.
So I took her little hand and told her to lightly grip my cock. It was so cute to see her hand only go 1/2 way around my cock - which isn’t super big but looked huge compared to her hand. I placed my hand on top of hers and told her to follow me, and started slowly stroking up and down. After about 12 strokes I took my hand away and she stopped for just a moment and then continued on her own. Because her hand was so small my cock slipped out a couple times so on her own she grabbed my cock with both her hands and continued stroking me. My cock was pointing up my body toward my stomach as she straddled my legs so I told her to lift it up so it was resting on her stomach as she jerked me. My precum was spotting her princess nightgown as she jerked me this way so I told her she should take it off so as not to get it messy. She nodded in agreement and let go of me - making my cock slam back into my stomach with a loud slap which made her giggle and do it 3 more times before grabbing the sides of her nightgown and pulling of off over her head. Naked except for her light blue panties which were a little small on her was a sight to behold and I soaked in her innocent beauty. No breasts yet but her nipples looked a little long, flat stomach and a pronounced mound of her little blue panty covered pussy. She scooted up my thighs a little pushing her panty covered pussy into my balls and grabbed my cock again with both hands. As she started awkwardly jerking me again the head of my cock was smearing precum across her stomach making it slippery and feeling wonderful. I think I moaned or made a weird noise because she stopped her hands from moving but didn’t let go and asked me if I was alright. I told her I was wonderful and if she continued that motion at the same pace I would shoot my cream for her very soon she smiled and went back to making her hands move up and down while gripping my cock - truth be told a little to firm - but I couldn’t say anything in fear she might stop. As I got closer to cumming I was moving my hips up and down making my ball sack grind into her mound. She never said anything so I wasn’t sure she was enjoying that but I sure was and then came that wonderful moment of not stopping the inevitable. As I felt it coming near I asked her if she wanted to taste my cream like she did with my precum and she said she wasn’t sure, and I told her that was alright but not to stop her hands jerking me as I started shooting it until I told her to. She nodded her head and kept jerking and staring intently at my cock resting on her stomach with both of her hands wrapped around it. The first shot of cum flew straight up in the air and landed back on her hands making her jump a little and let go with one hand. She continued stroking me but now my cock was pointing at my chest and the next 3 shots covered my stomach and filled my belly button. After the fourth shot I told her to stop and she just sat there watching my cock twitch and drool the remnants of my orgasm. I was breathing heavy and was thinking that this was the most intense orgasm I had ever had when she brought her cum covered hand to her nose and smelled my cum, then stuck her tongue out and cautiously tasted a little. She wrinkled her nose and said that my cream wasn’t as sweet as the other stuff before, so I wiped up a little on my finger and stuck it in my mouth sucking it clean. I agreed it want as sweet but it was very tasty and was full of good things for you. She tasted her hand again but said she didn’t really like it. I assured her that it was ok she didn’t like it now - but that maybe one day she would and I thanked her for an amazing orgasm. She tilted her head a little and looked puzzled, then asked me what an orgasm was. I told her that an orgasm was the best feeling in the whole world and that she had made me have one using her hands on my cock. She smiled real big and beamed proudly over her achievement and I asked her - already knowing the answer - if she had ever had an orgasm?
She shook her head and said no, so I asked her if she ever rubbed herself. Once again she looked a little puzzled and shook her head no again. I told her to let me up and I would get a towel to clean her hand, stomach, and myself, then I would explain everything to her. I can back into the room and she was sitting criss-cross on the ottoman still with only her light blue panties on. I cleaned her hand and wiped down her stomach and tossed the towel on the floor. I told her to sit back in my chair and this time I would sit on the ottoman. She scooted across and sat with her knees pulled up to her chest giving me an amazing view of her little panty covered pussy. I pulled the ottoman out and sat down facing her and place my hands on her knees. I told her that an orgasm was a feeling that slowly builds up until it explodes through your whole body and that was what she had done for me earlier. She smiled knowing that I was giving her a compliment but not truly understanding what I was talking about, so I continued. Just like when my penis gets hard because a pretty girl shows me her panties and rubs on it, girls get excited the same way but instead of getting hard they get wet with their own precum. I didn’t really know if she could get wet at her age but in the back of my mind I knew that I wanted to lick her to her first orgasm anyway. I told her that girls got excited and would feel a tingle in their stomach and pussy when they got real excited. She grinned big and said that her stomach and thingy had been tingling for the past 30 minutes. I told her that was good and that meant that she was wanting to have an orgasm. I guess I was playing it too slow because before I could continue with my talk she blurted out now can she have an orgasm? It was my turn to smile and I told her I would be glad to show her but this had to be a secret between the two of us because if anyone found out I would be sent away and not be able to see my family for a long time. She nodded and said she understood so I told her to stand up in the chair and take off her panties. She complied without any hesitation and handed me her light blue panties. I looked at the crotch to see if there was any sign of wetness but I didn’t see any. While she was standing there her mound was eye level to me and I was mesmerized but the perfect slit with no hair to be seen. While she was still standing I told her that girls would get excited when their breasts were played with. She giggled and said that she didn't have breast and called me silly, so I reached up and lightly pinched both of her nipples at the same time. She yelped a little and both her nipples piped out hard as a rock. So I leaned up and took her left nipple in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it and lightly sucked. She grabbed my head with both her hands and sucked in a deep breath. I moved over to her right nipple and continued my actions and she started breathing erratically and she said that she had never felt anything so good before. I stopped licking her nipple and looked up at her and said that she hadn’t felt anything yet - the best was yet to come - no pun intended. She didn’t understand what a pun was but it really didn’t matter to her at that point. I told her so sit back in the chair and slide her bottom kind of up to the front of the chair and when she did I bent her legs up and placed her feet on either side of her butt. For the first time I was seeing her little pussy open and in all its glory - and it was beautiful. I just sat there for a minute soaking in the view until she jerked my attention back to her by putting her hand over her mound and with the palm of her hand she pushed on her pussy and moved her hand back and forth 3 quick times and said that her thingy was itching. I told her that was her pussy and to let me take a look and see if I could make it stop itching. I used my fingers to slowly open her fat little mound and seeing her darker pink lips and her light pink clit - standing at attention already. I lightly ran my finger from the bottom of her pussy all the way to the top without hitting her clit yet and was very surprised to find that she was a little wet at her age. I licked my finger and her flavor was so sweet and clean, I knew I had to put my tongue inside her but I didn’t want to scare her. So I told her that I saw the problem and that I could kiss it and make it feel better. She gave me a funny face and asked me if I really was going to kiss her peepee, and I just smiled and told her to trust me and enjoy. I scooted back and leaned in and wrapped my lips around her little hard clit and lightly sucked and swirled my tongue just as I had on her nipples. She instantly went rigid and grabbed my head with both hands. She started whimpering as I continued licking every inch of her sweet little pussy with about every 10 licks giving her clit a few strokes. This was the sweetest pussy I had ever tasted and that fact was not lost on my cock which was now as hard as it had ever been in my life I reached down to feel it and I had more precum than I ever had running down the shaft and covering my balls. I took my finger and got it slippery with my precum and as I was licking her clit I slowly inserted it into her wet little pussy. I got it a little past the first knuckle when she panted that she felt like she was going to pee and that she needed to go to the bathroom. I stopped licking her but kept my finger in her slowly rubbing her inside and told her that she really didn’t have to pee but what she was feeling was an orgasm building up. I asked her as my finger was still inserted and rubbing her insides if she wanted me to stop and she just shook her head no and kept breathing heavily through her open mouth. I leaned back in and stuck my tongue back inside her sweet pussy where my finger had been and tongue fucked her for a few minutes until her thrashing around made it too difficult to keep my tongue inside her so I reinserted my finger until I felt it get too tight to continue. Not wanting hurt or freak her out in any way I didn’t try to push through her hymen instead I just kept rubbing the inside top of her pussy lightly and went back to sucking on her clit. She moaned louder than normal and her legs clamped around my head with an amazing amount of strength. I could feel her little pussy squeezing my finger - in fact she squeezed so hard it pushed my finger out of her, all the while I am still sucking on her clit and running my tongue all the way down to her asshole and back up to her clit. Then just as sudden as she went rigid she went limp as a doll. I stopped licking and looked up at her and I thought for a minute she had passed out. Her head was turned to the side, her mouth open and her eyes closed, just breathing heavy. I sat there for what seemed like 10 minutes but in reality it was probably about a minute when she opened her eyes, scooted back in the chair, and while smiling at me she said that was the most perfect wonderful feeling that she ever had, and if we could do that again….
The week crawled by with no time alone with my niece. Thursday afternoon some of the kids in the neighborhood came over and wanted to go swimming. I told them to play in the basement for about an hour until I finished up some work then I would go out back with them. It took me a little longer to finish but then I went down to the basement to get them (3 girls and 1 boy). At the bottom of the steps I hear “Not like that - do this” so I stopped for a minute to listen to what they were arguing about. Then I hear a loud “yes!” So I peeked around the corner. My youngest niece was sitting on the couch facing me and the other 2 girls were sitting on either side of her staring intently on the boy kneeling on the floor in front of her with his head between her legs. My niece was giving him step by step instructions and wasn’t cutting him any slack. Her sister was 3 years older but was much more reserved - or so I thought. She stood up and pulled her swim bottoms off then sat back down and told the boy to do that to her now. The boy scooter over and started licking her immediately and I watched her face go blank. She was holding his head with one hand and her hair with the other and immediately began to whimper. My youngest niece walked behind him so she could get a good look of what he was doing to her and started giving him some directions. I never knew she was so dominant and I began to wonder if I had instigated our encounters or had she! The boy took instructions very well and continued to make my older niece moan and giggle on the couch. After a few minutes the youngest niece asked their friend if she wanted to try it. This whole time she had been sitting on the couch just watching and not saying a word. She just slowly shook her head no and maybe whispered something but I couldn’t hear her. I adjusted my hard cock so I could walk and went back upstairs and then called for them. I heard a lot of scurrying around then they 3 girls came running up the stairs with the boy behind them. They were all dressed for the pool and smiling and the boy had a prominent erection poking out of his suit. I took them out back to the pool and had lemonade and popsicles ready for them. After a bit of splashing around with them I got out to sun and watch them play until the girls got tired and wanted to sun for a while. I could tell that the boy was bored just laying there so I asked him if he wanted to play a video game inside I could set it up for him. He eagerly accepted and ran inside. Back in the basement I started setting the game up on the tv and he was sitting on a towel on the floor. I turned around and saw he was still hard and had a dirty thought about the situation. I told him that this game was fun but probably wasn’t going to be as fun as what he did to my nieces. He went beet red and looked down at the floor. I asked him if he enjoyed doing that to my nieces and what would his parents think if I were to tell them what he was doing. He actually started to tear up and stuttering he was sorry. I felt instantly bad to have pushed him that far so I walked over and gave him a hug and told him that I wasn’t going to do that to him. With him still sitting on the floor he had risen to his knees for my hug and I had the side of his head on my crotch which was growing by the second. I made sure to let him feel my hard cock lying under his head and I told him that those games he played with my nieces were fun but there were other games that he would like too. He looked up at me with a questioning expression with my cock at full mast in my swimsuit and I asked him if he wanted me to show him these games. He nodded yes and I told him to stand up and I sat down on the couch.
He was standing in front of me with a nice size tent in his swim trunks staring me right in my face. I told him that I watched him licking my nieces and told him that he did a good job with them but they didn’t return the favor. He was just standing there with a smile on his face but not saying a word, so I asked him to pull down his swimsuit. He did so without any hesitation and out popped the cutest little hard cock I had ever seen. It was actually bigger than I expected at about 4 1/2 inches long but not very thick, and his balls were pulled up so tight they were almost inside him. As I took in the wonderful sight of his hairless privates I told him that just like when he licked my nieces and they enjoyed it, men enjoyed being licked too and I asked him if he would like me to show him. He quickly said yes and nodded his head, almost in unison of his little hard prick jumping up and down. I pulled him in close to me and ran my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip savoring the clean flavor of his pool washed dick. When I got to the tip he giggled and pulled back a little, so I pulled him back up to me and slid his whole cock into my mouth with my tongue circling the head. He went from a little giggle to a full blown moan that was drawn out as a oohhhhhh and his knees buckled a little. I was savoring the feeling of his thin rock hard cock in my mouth and was wondering if he could actually shoot cum yet when he started shaking and grabbed my head with both hands. He started making involuntary hip thrusts and shaking all over and gave a guttural groan as his cock pumped into my mouth. He then bent over my back to remove his cock from my mouth saying it was too sensitive and then fell onto the couch next to me breathing very heavily. There was not ejaculate yet but he had just experienced his first orgasm and this was the second person in 2 weeks that I had given that glorious experience to! I told him that he had just had an orgasm and asked him if he liked it. He was grinning from ear to ear nodding his head yes with a glazed look in his eyes. I then informed him that as he got older when he had an orgasm he would shoot his cream out of his cock and that he would like that feeling even better and the taste too. He was sitting on the couch next to me with his swimsuit around his ankles still a little out of breath when I stood up and pulled my shorts down. My hard cock popped up slapping my stomach as I turned to face him and without asking if he wanted to do to me what I did to him, I placed my hand on the top of his head and rubbed his hair lightly and eased his mouth toward my cock. He followed my previous actions to him almost perfectly, running his tongue from the base of my cock all the way to the tip, but my cock was gushing precum that covered his tongue. He pulled back and looked at me with disbelief on his face and asked if I was peeing? I quickly explained precum to him and squeezed a glob out on my finger and stuck it in my mouth savoring the sweetness. Seeing this he tentatively licked the head of my cock again gathering a glob of precum on his tongue and gulped it down like a pro. I continued rubbing his hair and told him that he was doing a great job and to continue sucking on my cock like a Popsicle. I wish I could tell you he was a great cocksucker but in truth he wasn’t - but the visual of him licking me and his little cock still rock hard combined with the flavor of him still in my mouth was all I could take. With my right hand on his head I grabbed my cock with my left hand and told him to lean his head back and stick out his tongue. I almost lost my orgasmic momentum because he did just that - but had his mouth closed like he was just making a funny face sticking his tongue out at me. I stifled a laugh and told him to open his mouth with his tongue out and before he could comply, my first shot of cum hit him right in the nose. He turned his head to the side and tried to back up but I was still holding his head with my right hand so the second, third, and fourth shot went across the side of his face. I let go of his head and he was wiping cum out of his nose (it actually went up his nose) and I took my finger and gathered some off the side of his face and told him to taste it. He stuck his tongue out a little and I pushed my finger into his mouth where he sucked it clean. I repeated the process 2 more times until all of the cum was off his face, then I squeezed my cock up making another glob collect on the end. I told him to suck the rest out of the end of my cock to clean it good and he quickly complied. He said that he really liked the taste and couldn’t wait until he could do that for himself. I laughed and said that he would before too long, but in the meantime as long as he kept it a secret between the 2 of us I would “let” him taste mine whenever he wanted. I finished setting up the game for him and told him to pull up his pants as I took one more feel of his still hard little cock and I was going to check on the girls.
It was time for my wife to come home so the girls came in and got their things together. Everyone was acting so normal I was getting really excited about the possibilities for the next week they were with us - and Mark, the neighbor’s son, was going to be around longer! My wife got home and opened a bottle of wine then started cooking dinner and told my nieces to go ahead and take a bath and get out of their swimsuits. I was in the kitchen chatting with my wife and about to open another bottle of wine when my youngest niece yells downstairs for a towel so I told my wife I would get one and take to her. I grabbed a couple out of the laundry and walked upstairs to the bathroom and knocked on the door which opened as I knocked. There was my youngest niece standing there completely naked staring at herself in the mirror and pinching her little nipples. She smiled when she saw me and walked over to get the towel but instead of grabbing the towel she grabbed my crotch and started squeezing my cock. I took her hand away and shut the door behind me and knelt down to her level. I told her that I loved her and really enjoyed playing with her but we couldn’t do this while my wife was home that she could catch us. She dropped her head with a sad look on her face so I wrapped the towel around her and picked her up and sat her on the counter as I gave her a long hug. I lifted her head up to look at her face and she gave me a deep kiss. As we were kissing I slid her down the counter so I was standing in front of the bathroom door so it couldn’t open and pushed the towel off her shoulders. I broke the kiss and told her to lean back and we could do something real quick but then we had to go back downstairs. As she leaned back against the mirror I spread her legs open and up a little and bent over and licked her freshly bathed hairless little cunt. She sighed and opened her legs a little more so I attacked her little sweet pussy with aggressive licking and sucking, enjoying the sweet flavor and her body gyrations. I’m almost no time she clamped her legs around my head and lifted her little ass completely off the counter as she whimpered a little too loudly. I placed my hand across her mouth to help muffle the sounds as I continued my tongue assault on her hard little clit. Her hips jerked upward with my head locked between her legs and then she went limp again. It was like an orgasm took all of her life force away for about 45 seconds and she was limp as a doll. I stood up taking in the beautiful sight of her laying there on the towel with her little pussy glistening with my saliva. She smiled as I rearranged my hard cock in my swimsuit and she asked what about me? Could she do me know? I smiled and told her I would like no nothing more than that but we didn’t have time now, it would have to wait until later. Later that night when in bed with my wife she actually asked me in the middle of a very heated set of sex what had me so riled up….if only I could have told her.
The weekend was long with everyone at the house. Even Mark and Elise, the friend of my nieces, came over and swam on Saturday. There was no chance to be alone but that didn’t stop my youngest niece Karly and Mark from teasing me. I began to wonder if they knew about each other’s playtime with me or if they had their own secret. I went in the kitchen to start getting the burgers ready and Karly came in a few minutes later. She jumped up on the counter in her little yellow bikini next to where I was chopping lettuce and spread her legs wide and started rubbing her crotch. She told me that her pussy seemed to tingle or itch all the time now and the only thing that made it better was for someone to lick it. I smiled and told her I would love to lick her but my wife and everyone else was right outside at the pool. She kind of pouted but said she understood then gave me a hug and went back outside. Mark came in just as she left and asked for a coke. I told him to get one out of the fridge and he did then walked over and stood beside me while I was peeling an onion. He told me that he had a new secret and wanted to tell me. I put my arm around him and told his that he could tell me anything while I was checking out his little package in his Speedo. It seemed that he was hard and dressing to the left but I really couldn’t tell from my angle. He told me that he had shot cream out of his cock last night when he played with it - well not exactly cream but he shot a clear sticky liquid and it tasted great. I reached down to feel his little cock and it was hard as a rock. I told him I couldn’t wait to taste it for myself. When I said that he pulled his swimsuit down and his cock was pointing straight up. I looked over the counter to the pool and saw where everyone was and dropped down to a squat for a quick taste. He could see over the counter so I told him to watch for anyone coming this way and started sucking his little hard cock. It was probably my imagination but it seems as if his balls were a little bigger or at least hanging lower that before. I was loving the feeling of his little cock in my mouth and the taste of a mixture of chorine and what I assumed was precum and didn’t want to stop, but he started tapping the top of my head and grunting so I stood up expecting someone to be walking in. There was nobody there and Mark said he was sorry but he was about to shoot and wanted me to know. I smiled and told him thank you and he could shoot in my mouth that I would like to taste him. I looked over the counter again and dropped back down to that amazing little hard cock and slurped it back in my mouth with my tongue swirling the head. Mark started gasping again and started little jerks of his hips and then groaned, with his legs buckling. I didn’t feel him shoot so much as I tasted him. It was as sweet as my precum but more of it and a little thicker. I have him one last strong suck and pulled his swimsuit up then swatted his butt, told him that was delicious, and he needed to go back to the pool. He laughed and took off to the pool while I finished prepping the burgers with a wonderful taste lingering in my mouth.
To be continued....
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Before A Midsummer Night's Dream
Before A Midsummer Night's Dream · Interracial Love · Memories are important to me, specifically the good ones. I would concur that it's the small things one does during their lifetime that are going to be the most impactful on them when they go back to cherish. In my 25 years, I've tried to make as many of these little moments for myself as possible. I hope to continue doing so.
As I circumvent the cobwebs and flip the grimy pages in the convolution that is my brain, I still recall a balmy Friday afternoon during the summer of '14. There have been many days around here where the climate could make it feel exactly like so. Though reiterating: The minutiae of details which were taking place during that day are what I think a person can treasure the most. Even if specifics become lost, they may blend and be a larger whole after a time. Speaking for myself, I now see the sun shining on that day more than I'd cared to notice then.
I turned 19 that May. My self-confidence had been improving along with what amount was already there from the time I'd graduated from high school. I did so with the Class of 2012. I was on a tight leash that was loosened by my parents for the remaining year of my minority. They removed the leash when I became an adult by law the year later. I had finally escaped the austerity enforced in my orthodox household during my upbringing, and in lieu, set out with the intention to experience and to make myself happy. To think less of what was expected of me by those who play God, and more of my perennial passions. I'd recognized my flaws. I've never stated to anyone that I'm a good person. Never. But I felt that helping other people would be helping me; what else can we do?
I pondered on a medical field or social work — and a steady source of income, of course. I knew this was going to be a tremendous undertaking, but I was adamant when I set my mind to something important to me. I'd been told so by teachers — people of authority outside the homestead. A university accepted me. It required a distanced move several hours away. I would have to do this on my own without support or enthusiasm from my family. Yes, I was frightened; I don't blame myself. But this was what it took — to overcome my dread and doubt while bearing in mind my goals, which I purposely left petty and superfluous so they would be feasible to complete and not damage me from unexpected failure to fulfill them.
By my pragmatic, if not sardonic philosophies by default, expecting good things to happen in this world's rocky landscape leads to disappointment in many cases. Maybe then I wasn't aware of this factuality, but I am now. I recognize. I stop to think about those without. The body I am in, the innocent lusts I have, the blessings bestowed to me by God are all good things, so long as I humble myself and take heed to what I know to be right. They will not be denied by me, rejected by me, or taken for granted, as often as I can remind myself.
As contradictory and ironic as the following account will seem, I'm only human, none of which is perfect, all of which is pardoned.
II
I always knew what the passions and lusts aforementioned were. They seemed like untapped and beautiful things that escaped my domineering nature of cynicism and restraint. Even early on in my childhood, I was inquisitive; whatever was there had always been a part of me. I could not, or rather, was forbidden to act on any carnal urges — rightfully so, since I was only a child. Yet, with all the boundaries and restrictions and doctrines of what is “Right” and what is “Wrong” firmly implanted, there was exposure to so many sexual contexts and innuendos, nonetheless — not only that but other discretions that a young girl should not be allowed to eavesdrop on. I was being informed well before my sanctioned time by three older siblings and made fully aware of how things plied.
My brothers had no capacity for complex emotions such as concepts of morality or guilt — a typical encounter for me then. They did not care. They brought their rambunctious peers for visits while Dad would work around the clock, Mom would drink her gin and tonic, and I'd impinge on their misdeeds. Why did my dad ignore me? It bothered me more than he knew and would affect me down the trail. Why did my mom harbor such an indefensible hatred towards me? Was there something in me that she saw in herself, or was it merely me, having been the “accidental” fourth? The two live-in grandparents, who were Dad's parents, just made everything that much more awkward and unbearable. Why go into it? No more time should be wasted dwelling on any of them; the less, the better. I could not breathe in that household.
In any case, it wasn't much different around my contemporaries. Only, I'd be the one to refute classmates' naive banter and false notions by having known it all in advance when sat down in sex-ed, courtesy of three dick-headed and repugnant siblings with age and primacy on their side. It was a stark contrast when compared to the ridicule I would languish in the home, having not known jack shit when gunned down by a belligerent firstborn, ten years older than me. Sex is so ubiquitous that it's just impossible to avoid anymore — if it ever was possible to avoid it — especially with my level of drive. In one way or another, everything will pertain to it unless a prude, which I am certainly not. I was innately fascinated by it. I asked harmless questions. Why did my bros have to be so mean about it?
I'm not having any self-pity here; this is only an explanation of what life was like during my childhood and growing up in my family — a veritable psychiatric field day. My clusterfuck of a house demanded a 1955 mindset, regardless of whatever was going on behind closed doors. Mommy and Daddy never sat me down for a tête-à-tête about birds and the bees, or anything else for that matter. My parents and grandparents would force their lectures on love but never practiced it themselves or set an example. And I mean the sum of what love's supposed to be like, what I understood it should be like, not just the sexual elements that intrigued me the most.
This hypocrisy angered me. What the fuck was this? Love — it is all I wanted to feel but was unable to receive it by any means there.
After all that the abstinence had cost me through puberty, I planned to change things for myself by finding love elsewhere, and I would demand nothing in return for it.
III
Work was almost out on that sunny day sometime in June. I'd been interning in several hospitals and facilities while I studied for a planned degree in pharmacology. As the end of my stint approached, I thought more of my plans for that nightfall and how to pull them off to perfection. These non-sequitur thoughts were unsuited for any run-of-the-mill and holier-than-thou work ethic. They flew around with the rest of the hustle and bustle incessantly going on up there that I would do anything, short of opting out, to mitigate. They made me fidget in my seat, causing my muscles to tense and my breathing to fluctuate.
To only exacerbate my uneasiness and anxiety, an inbound text message had arrived from my newfound friend, Naomi. I don't recall precise words, but I'd guess something along the fringes of, “Are you going out for scalps later?” Over the years I've known her, she'd often refer to my newly acquired boons as “scalps,” or in another form of acrimony which — coming from how endearing and friendly she was — would still put it lighter than I was in my behavior towards most of those poor kids. I was coming out from an inferno of juvenile years that were indeed affecting both me and my surroundings. I regret it now; I do. I've hurt; yes, I have.
Naomi's perspectives and definitions of propriety were different from mine — ones I frequently envied. I'd met her for the first time in January of that year. She'd been a neighbor when I decided to get out of the dorm and rent something instead. I was still 18 then, and she had six years on me at her 24. From my first impression, she did not seem to carry any hint of whatever constitutes a Child left in her at all. She was self-governing, incorrigible in her mold, and who she distinguished herself as — no one would be changing her mind. I admired those aspects and sensed genuine wisdom in this chick.
Naomi quickly became a close friend to me, as I'd moved hours from my home and knew no one in this sprawling and daunting megalopolis beforehand. She saw my electrons and only confuted them with her more overbearing protons. I learned that it was only futility to be anything other than happy and amiable around her. I grew up with antonyms of joy. She had an overwhelming ardor I'd not spent ample time with before.
I eventually opened up to her about my past. My kitsch is considered old-school, old-fashioned, and I have no problem with that. In an age of social media, I may have — or I may not have — a different definition than bulks do of what a friend is and who gets placed on the 'Friends List.' It's a close circle, and in effect, a small list that is pretty damn important to me. I consider Naomi to be one of the people on said list. I mention her extensively because she became a pillar that supported my happiness. Her impeccable judgment regarding getting the most out of what this life had to reward me was never questioned or depreciated. I was indebted to her.
By that point, I had possessed what the forms of those rewards were continually able to come in, allusive pun intended. I was already being made aware of the effortless perfection in which my soul resided. I made efforts anyhow — if only to maintain my temple. I went out of the way to run miles every day during the week. I was only continuing what I'd been doing as a form of escapism since junior high. I had myself conditioned to the point of feeling like I could keep on figuratively running away from my troubles in perpetuity. I loved it like an addiction — “Runner's High,” they call it. It made me feel sexy.
People — suspected to be in the same frame of mind as me, e.g., 'on the hunt' — would look at me as I went past them in my own made world, where the cosmos centered around the area where the middle of my foot would connect to the asphalt. I caught many gotten glances from the corners of my eyes, which I consider dark and intimidating. If I did lock my formidable gaze with the odd pedestrian on my cool-down period, nine out of ten times, I'd cause them to glance off in another direction as swiftly as they could. Any place that didn't involve the prerequisite set of balls it takes to meet my peep, continue inwards, and break my barriers. However, the tenth time consisted of those sure enough of themselves to take a plunge and brave a journey into my complex irides intent to burn away any veil in theirs. Destinations varied.
I would arrive home to my leased residence in a cold sweat and dampened clothes to undress for a hot shower in a ritualistic manner. The release from the confinements of my sports bra only made me feel like I could breathe the more so. As I poured out of the nylon stitching, my breasts would instantaneously settle back into their rightful perky place and be permitted to jut from my chest in freedom, just as God had intended for Eve's to do so before the Fall.
I shimmied myself out of what thin fabrics remained on the lower portion of my framework — hips and all that is divine between my legs were revealed to me, reminding me of my luck again. I knew what I saw in the mirror's reflection; I was not blind to a familiar sight. I eyed my curves and contours and the landing strip I regularly like to rock on my mound. It was abundantly clear what I was beholding: I was the quintessential woman who could have anything she fancied. It was entirely my choice to ditch the conviction and despair I suffered through adolescence and enjoy being in my niche instead. What a hedonist I was.
I would undo the knotted bun resting atop my head to let my blackened hair fall past my shoulders and onto my skin. I could detect a familiar and intoxicating fragrance in each of the strands. The moisture and scent from having pounded on the pavement not long before would also be in the air. It would mix with lingering aromas from whatever perfumes I'd sprayed in it from that morn. They joined with the traces of shampoo and conditioner from the previous night. The amalgamation became a tang of raw Sexual Energy that cannot be withstood or further described without the risk of raving. A lot can happen in a bathroom before a shower.
In times like 'in front of the mirror after a run,' I feel an aura surrounding me. I see myself in my purest and most vulnerable form as my damp and weighted tresses brushed against tender bits. Naked and battling with an abiding lust, found in spiritual sectors that cannot be labeled by anatomy, I would do things to myself in front of these mirrors — I'd been doing so in secrecy for quite a while. I would explore places, touch parts, and imagine my empty spaces made occupied by things I was, in my infancy, only able to catch glimpses and then lose sight of, left to have them in my dreams. Later on, I would see them but never be allowed to feel them in my presence. These dreams became increasingly vivid.
But by that summer in '14, the need for imagination and improvisation was no longer necessary. I had felt the sensation of a cock pressing into my flesh and was able to say so. Even if a phantom in my time of solitude, I oft feel nerves on zones inside me where I want the head to bear the brunt of its punishment most of all and induce the climacteric point of no return. In these moments, I cast aside whatever piety and temperance I have over myself and realize how bad I need fucked.
My cock craving would arrive in times as such — the times that were so commonly encountered during weeks consisting of long days with nil opportunity to sate my needs and cause the build-up and frustration to become that much more acute. These times called for me to do something about it. They bring me back to the Friday reminisced on, the reply to my friend's question, and whatever lucky guy — the emblematic scalp — would get his chance to serve as this completion for me as the five days of absence waned, and the weekend drew nearer.
IV
I replied to Naomi; asked her if she knew where I could go to make this happen. She had lived in the City all her life and was a social animal. It amazed me how she could throw names and addresses at me at the drop of a hat — any place where something was going down. It wasn't long after that when she told me, “Go here,” gave me the deets and coordinates, and wished me well. I planned to brave it alone that night since I was working some distance from home.
More and more routinely, I found myself still out, waking up in strangers' beds and being gone even well into the next day. It was becoming a custom for me to be prepared for this to happen. I would keep clothes in my car, influenced by whatever vogue was going on; lots of clothes. I kept stocked on survival essentials, too, i.e., food and drink — mainly trail mixes and bottled water. I had plenty of cosmetic and hygienic supplies to maintain my beauty and preserve my health. I could do work while sitting in the car if obligated. If I needed sleep, it was trivial enough to recline the seat. I was able to be out and about more by these means. Staying or fleeing a scene was all contingent upon how it was and the vibes I was feeling.
After I got out of the job, I went to find the park I'd been using to run laps during that week. Though, today, I would run only to a point where I'd not work up so much fatigue and make a sweaty mess of myself — which, with my stamina, took some work. From what I remember, it was supposed to be an open house slated for six o'clock or so — a later part of the evening. It would be no more than a fifteen-minute drive from where I was. I had plenty of time. Also, I liked to show up late at these things. Exercising was not only delightful to me but my way of cleansing the deed through its health benefits. It was my absolution from whatever substances and sordid activities I would undoubtedly be indulging in.
During those years, I spent time playing dress-up in my vehicle. I'd strip out of my work attire and into sports gear for my runs. Then I would return and swap back into something suitable for whatever I'd be doing after that. In many instances, I would be within plain view as I was changing in the car. In retrospect, I'm surprised I don't need neck surgery as a result of how much surveying I was doing while I switched outfits to see if I was being ogled at by some perv. I told myself nobody saw me making a nouveau riche bimbo out of herself, but maybe I was, in my subconscious, wishing someone had. Perhaps someone did see me once or twice, but that's another story.
My black Honda Accord was like a home for me, pillow in the back and all. If push came to shove, I kenned I could always go to my car and nap there in safety. Unless close, there was no reason for me to drive back home. I could be spending that time doing something productive or heading towards something that made me feel good instead. I was being taught different things now; to love myself and cease in the denial of loving it. I wasted none of what coupled youth and adulthood instigated. At 19, I was milking these advocations for everything they were worth, although I never wavered from my own beliefs; my Faith. Love is at the center of it; the rest is redundant to me.
With that in mind, I arrived back after I had concluded my jog. I always felt carefree and sensuous after the fact, being glad it was done and feeling much healthier. I threw something on and freshened up. I wanted myself as flaunted and sultry as possible, sparing no expense or giving any pretense as to what I would be looking for at this shindig. I made sure not to hold back on Chanel and L'Oréal and make my hair as liberated, salacious, and untamed as possible. I swallowed whatever lurking fret there was and brushed aside whatever bullshit second thoughts I had, then ignited the engine to hear the radio blasting A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay. I remember it.
V
It was dusk when I got there. I parked a reasonable distance away on the curb and walked to the address Naomi gave me. A driveway went up for a bit that led me to a two-story home that looked to be an upper-middle-class sort of place. There was activity going on. Lots of people were there; I was not counting. The age group appeared anywhere between their teens like me, into their early thirties. I could walk right in and assimilate myself without anyone noticing, and I was all right with that. I figured most of it was going on in the backyard. There was a lot of landscaping around the front and a fence, so I had to go through the front door to get there, which was wide open.
It seemed warm and stuffy when I stepped in, especially for the intermingling Latin blood running hot in my veins. The lights were down; I recall candlelight. I remember the usual smells of food and spirits. The familiar odor of marijuana was also in the air. I was 19 and very much underage, doing something I knew was not allowed, as if I was going to let that deter me. A blond-haired mistress I did not know walked up and hugged me. She said some indistinct things I don't remember now. She might have been the owner of the house since she was a bit older. Whoever she was, she looked to be well on her way, like she had taken something. I wasn't sure what was going on yet. I could not hear her, either. It was loud in there, enough to make a girl go deaf with the proper soundtrack going.
People were yelling over each other as the typical EDM and pop music blasted on a stereo system. Music is at the epicenter of a good party. There have to be good tunes to have a good party, in my opinion. Of course, I did not expect to hear anything underground, abrasive, or hardcore, like a gabber at their rave or mosher in their pit. But the night was young, and so was I. At 19, a bit of what I knew was passed vicariously through the older folks I was becoming acquainted with — my friend Naomi was one of them. And her being 24, a sophisticated and diverse individual, they only got older from there. She was regularly around people in their thirties and upwards, back to when parties were happening in the '00s, '90s, and '80s.
I hear they were tumultuous times, and Naomi had been exposing me to those capable of saying they were there. The only way to be there was to be there. They carried no smartphones back then, nor did they need them. Technology did not matter since it did not exist. It was the memory and the moment, nothing more. Whatever knowledge was in my academics and studies did nada for me while I was subject to those circumstances. What many of them attained was my definition of wisdom — having lived on Earth longer than me. Which is to say, they had witnessed more of what reality is and felt more pain than I had. The years they'd spent listening and partaking, as I was doing, had paid off.
I could not compete with any of it, but she let me in on their private jokes, notwithstanding, and involved me in their antics as often as we were around each other. When I went to events with Nomi and whoever else she had along, there was no question about how confident I was. It meant a great deal to have her as a friend and to be able to call her one. As all this was happening, she confided with me just as much as I was confiding in her. With all that emotion and proximity, not to mention her talents in temptation, she began touching me and welcomed me to touch her, too. Lots of frivolous hugs were going on, but then they became more compelling.
I did not know if she was manipulating me into something — if she was, it was working. She had the advantage of seniority and being the Cooler Cucumber than me, not to mention having a charisma that I lacked. She deadlocked me in my eyes all the time — a powerful thing to me. It reached the point when she trapped me on my lonesome one day, got me to open my mouth, and let her stick her tongue in it. It ended with her leading me by the hand and both of us on her bed, fucking one another. She pulled this off even amid my sobriety and having had considered myself a very straight female before then. Wow. Kudos to me, more power to her.
Naomi became the first woman I was intimate with — she opened that gateway for me, broke that boundary and taboo. She was breaking lots of those not long after that. Things I never imagined myself doing began taking place, and I was doing them; things were taking me, more ambiguous puns intended. As time went on, she felt more like companionship and someone I could place my trust in and lower my guard around. It has remained as such to this day.
VI
Since I was alone at this particular event on that night, I wanted to be cautious. I was being analyzed head to toe by strangers left and right. I felt their eyes already peeling my duds off. During a warm night in June, there was not much clothing on me, to begin with — all my prominent features were out on display for them. I had done this on my own before and was discovering what worked for me, albeit tentatively.
I needed to find a spot to settle in to get my bearings, with a drink in my hand that would put me on the path to enough of a buzz of courage to make a move on someone — or allow them to make theirs. A year farther down the highway, I might have done something insane and not thought twice, but I did not want to overdo anything here this evening. I was on my own, which is already taking a risk — too serious of one for my better part of judgment then.
I found an unoccupied piece of patio furniture outside in the backyard. It was more spacious and less constricting than being inside the sweltering domicile. More air and fewer clusters of crowds brushing into my Safe Zone allowed me to relax and contemplate. People were in their groups and cliques and saturated in their confidences for reasons obvious to anyone. In that sort of environment, being ingratiated within a group makes a state of mind different from when unescorted. I felt withdrawn and homesick at this function that night, to be sure, drinking alcohol in my teens and prone to rash decisions. I had to remain vigilant and keep my wits about me.
This garden party had been carrying on for a while now. I saw people dancing, fornicating, and rambling incoherently across the yard from what looked to be drug use, alleged to be ecstasy. I saw a surreptitious group of males, the type known all too well to me by then. I assumed they were selling — my assumption proved correct after time spent sitting with my drink and policing them.
Club drugs were still out of my depth then, and taking something like MDMA — or taking any substance for that matter — without someone to trust nearby leads to bad decision-making and potential catastrophe. It's a wonderful way to wreck your entire life in an instant — and be left with the sickening hindsight of, “Why did I have to do it? I could have Just Said No. Everything would be fine right now if I had.” Thoughts such as those make me think of what is taken for granted, not to mention my health. With what I was doing for a better amount of six years, it is a miracle I am even alive and not in a coma or dead. Which is worse, the former or the latter?
There would be no fucking way I would be taking anything on that night, let alone pay anything out of pocket for whatever insalubrious garbage it may have been cut with. I was searching around for someone who appeared to be in a comparable situation as me: they were at this festivity to get laid and bust their nut — no cons, illegalities, or ODs attached. Nothing wrong with a little lovin'.
I had been there for at least half an hour now. I recall having a Dark and Stormy — a drink I have thoroughly enjoyed over the years. I doubt the rum was anything from a top shelf, but volume is volume. Speaking of volume, since the time I'd strolled through the home, the music was getting better. Maybe they'd replaced whoever was doing the DJing with someone who knew their shit — a connoisseur who viewed music as an art form, as I did. It sounded to be deep-cuts of minimal techno, vocal trance, et cetera. Echoes of numerous, unknown artists and tracks that someone could quite easily only ever lay ears on once during a lifespan and then never hear again.
Hearing the unheard has always been a big deal to me. I thrive for a moment where I will hear something to fall in love with — or take offense from. As cruel as it seems to say to anybody sober, genres such as techno and trance will only sound better while rolling on uppers or while bombed out of their gourds on herb — or, in my case, that eve, floating on alcohol.
But please permit me to be a hoity-toity, high and mighty, la-di-da ball-buster by repudiating what was literally just said: Don't do drugs; don't even drink hard liquor. It's the smart thing to do.
VII
I remember attempting a conversation with a couple of passersby if you could call it a conversation. Most of what they were mumbling to me about was idiosyncratic gibberish. Obviously Zonked. I told them, delivered as a fait accompli, what I was here for — my thirst needed to be quenched by some sort of personified punch after the stressors of my existence throughout that week, hither. While I continued to sip my beverage and soak in the sounds, I looked for a suitable other to aid me in accomplishing this feat. It would be an extreme responsibility for them.
Most of the guys I saw there thought themselves larger than life, and justly so, I guess. They had girls with them already. It's possible actual relationships were going on, e.g., boyfriend and girlfriend. Most looked thunderous and hyper. Always something to say. They frolicked in their esteem.
Were I to walk up to these characters or them to me, dictation would be on their terms. They could easily cast me aside and find someone looking nearly as good as I was that night, and I was looking severely good at 19; it would be untenable to deny or just plain mean to tell a Missy otherwise. I was getting tons of inspections, lonely and abandoned as I was. Time was running out for me to choose, and the alcohol was in effect.
VIII
I saw one of the smaller assemblages that looked to be more phlegmatic than the norm. They casually conversed and gave no evidence of having any terminal impairment. From a stone's throw away from my location, they looked like respectable working-class — blasé and hospitable; no flamboyance. One guy was the odd man out. He had no Lady on his arm, as the other two Gentlemen did. He looked to be a real Somebody.
I would say he was in his upper twenties. His physique looked active, rugged, and undemanding — a type I loved to tempt. His hair was dark, dense, and wavy — enough of it to run my fingers through to feel good about myself. He had maintained facial hair, but not too maintained. He seemed rough around the edges, with nothing tapered or outstanding. His clothing — a distinctly recollected dark and drab T-shirt and tarnished denim jeans — fit loosely enough for comfort and snug enough to show off his sculpt — one that looked lean with a fatally underestimated power behind it. Hell yeah, I'd tap that!
I was eyeing him up and down, gorgeous as I was, and he saw me doing it. He was participating in a chat with his buddies and their dates while he was more and more glancing over at me, sitting on my own, trying to pretend like he was not affected. I wondered if they were talking about me — it looked like they were touching on something. From what I was observing, he seemed to have a reserved opinion of himself. His friends appeared that way, too. There was no complacency or delusion present.
I was stricken to carry myself with the same decorum in ordinary cases, but I was horny and infatuated with myself at the minute, not to mention Sloshed. I thought the man was looking at me and assuming right away that there would be no bet in hell of scoring a nasty summit of a number like me on that night. Too modest for his own good. Or was I wrong? Was I too conceited and haughty for my own good? I wondered what kind of beast of a Cock was skulking behind the excess seen in his weathered jeans like it was some predator waiting in ambush. Each seam and tear in those pants he bore so eloquently were more than likely earned by his merit at whatever tedious daily grind he had, rather than been pre-installed at purchase merely to resemble liveliness.
As I continued studying him, I felt my mouth salivate. My breath began to elevate. My muscles were contracting, and I was fidgeting in my chair like I'd been doing at work earlier. What charm lay bare and void betwixt my thighs was going from moist to damp, damp to wet, and throbbing with each heartbeat. Steamy thoughts were going on in my fucked up and dirty head. I queried how much I could get away with here — Niña Loca, arguing with the Voices. The hand that did not contain a plastic cup involuntarily traveled down to paw at the soft Hill found in my shorts. I oftentimes do this with the knuckles bearing inward — really, there is no control over it. Then I felt my face begin to tingle and my mouth abruptly dry. I took another swig of 40 as if that would alleviate the dryness in the long run.
My chest became tight, and my heart began to pulsate with even greater intensity — so much more that I felt it shocking my body from root to stem. My adrenaline was kicking in — something I still needed to get used to feeling. I wanted this dude to put his brawny hands all over me and force me to moan for him as he fucks me to climax. Oh, God, how I needed it. I wasn't going to wait around for it to happen. I got up and took concealed, stumbled strides athwart the grass and over to him.
IX
He grew taller as I neared — at least a head's higher than my 5'5''. Oh yeah, this fella was interested, so was I. Definitely a Smash. Something was trying to click here. His eyes lit up a bit, deep and complex as they were, like mine. Still, he did not turn them away from me to stare at his feet or act like he didn't know what was happening. I sensed he had assurance in himself, whether he cared to concede to it or not.
As I landed my sights on the more intricate of his features, it became clear why he did. He was indeed much older than I, more into his early thirties. This was not some boy as green as the ground I stood on; it was a full-fledged Man. With the age comes the experience, as I was going to find out about later on. A man's age advantage over me also stirs my more discreet and frailer of psychological quirks — the lack of a Father Figure. Where I was invisible to my dad, I had found an adjacent alternative, who did appreciate me and lavished me in sensuality, furthermore.
I'm a believer in Occam's razor — that the Quickest Avenue is probably going to be the right one to go down. Short and sweet; no meandering BS or trying out new techniques. I asked him if he was with someone. He took my meaning, shook his dear head in a neutral expression, and told me No. We shared the same policy, apparently — candid, concise, and straight to business; this is not like the movies. I asked if I could be with him. He said Yes — just like that. I went up to meet his chest, albeit hesitant from the slight jolted shock to my nervous system when I realized he was more seasoned than I had anticipated. But he extended a sinewy arm to give me signs I had nothing to fear from him.
An indefinable surge of warmth went over me. Feelings of Happiness and Acceptance flooded inside as I hugged my body closer.
I was on his left; I remember it. He put his arm around me. He was a rock-solid Bull. I wanted to put my arm around him, too. When I did, it felt like trying to hug a bronze statue out of Ancient Rome. I felt out of my body so often during these escapades. It was something surreal like a déjà vu or feeling like I'd reached the pinnacle of a precipice, one where reality only existed inside my mind and falling off the ledge would turn it into a black nihility, like before being born into a soul.
I wished to rest my head on him and shut my eyes, then open them to see if I'd wake up someplace else — I didn't want to wake up; I wanted to go nowhere else but 'Here' and 'Now.' He had a scent of cologne that merged with a nostalgic hint of tobacco that I grew up around in a family of smokers; casual, and chain. His conferees were, as I inferred: Around their late twenties and precisely the kinds of laid-back folks that I could correlate to and mellow out with. One might even label it esoteric — no conformity, only themselves.
There was an introduction. We exchanged our names — of which now I cannot recall. Mine was Melanie, and it is appalling that I cannot remember the name of my new boyfriend as I write in the present tense. His pals seemed tranquil and only spoke about as much as need be. They continued having a conversation about something that I draw blanks on now. I think it was work-related. I gathered they were co-workers.
What was running through my mind was who I had my arm around. My hand and its fingers lightly traced the finer details and digits of his spine. They went up to the lower parts of his neck to brush his hairline. I was touching him with greater zeal and affection at an alarming rate of attrition. He was considering it, and I could see it. Who knew I had it in me? I had to raise my head to meet his height. My eyes were looking up and to his. Even if he turned away for a moment to those he was already familiar with, as if to equivocate my presence, I did not falter — my sight remained on him. This technique was not just for him to enjoy but also was a means for me to read him — to try my damnedest to discern what kind of man this was. What kind of secrets did I need to know about, hmm? Eye contact. It's important to me.
I wanted to trust this stranger enough to give him Carte Blanche and let him have total Dominion over me and all that could be his. Capriciousness had nothing to do with the decision I had made — and despite my inebriation, while crossing over the lawn, I knew what I was doing here. It was the End Game in mind — for me to have my brains Fucked out in earnest and their gray matter suspended in Orgasmic Euphoria. Such has always been my Vice. The rest is impertinent; diversions or tactics to lead me to it.
When they met my soft skin, I recalled the grain of his hands calloused and stalwart, like a man's hands should feel. As I expected, this was an active human being with a firm grip on a very clingy gal who coveted to get a lot more of her parts gripped on before the roosters had a chance to crow at sun-up. What I did not expect was how much this buckaroo knew what he was doing. It leads me to believe that this is why I still retain the night, even over six blurry years later, where I would find myself in similar predicaments during every week's end.
X
I finished my Juice and nonchalantly tossed the obligatory Red Solo Cup elsewhere, scattering the condensed ice cubes and soggy rum-soaked lime wedge amongst the turf. A Party will be a Party, and this one was not mine. A proper Fucking Mess — “Fucking” in verb form — for the host/hostess to clean up after all's said and done is, in consolidated fact, a Given. I now had both of my lovely hands vacant and available to touch him, as my inborn omnipotence concerning these libidinous affairs deemed fit.
I edged myself from his side and into his front, though not all the way. Of course, this rose his attention; why would it not? No dialogue was going on between us, and I was quite all right with that. The Music played. The Multitudes in the yard carried on hooping and hollering like not a thing was transpiring between He and Me. My hands were running up and down along his sides and anywhere else stimulating they could conquer. I have been told countless times in so many ways about what it is like to feel my reception and bona fide sentiment via my touch.
I did not grab the Bulge I wanted so desperately to have in my clutches, quite yet. It's crucial not to overstep bounds, initially. I needed to wait for that moment, a critical one. I had a Good Vibe going on here; high hopes; this was most certainly a Catch. He “wasn't most guys,” and for once in a blue-fucking-moon in the Sky, this Truth was held to be self-evident. I wanted him to have it, this luscious body in its entirety. He did not have to prove a thing to a girl endeavoring to cultivate herself. I finally got him to focus on Me, Me, Me, and fuck all else — the narcissistic wench that I was.
In that instant, I banked on the Accolade to take place — the bit where this man took over for me and granted me something in return; quid pro quo. And he did.
First Base! He had been a downplayed professional, touching me in all the right places with all the right amounts of pressure applied. His friends were very polite, and I don't even remember when they shifted elsewhere to give us our privacy. The only thing I remember was how fast I was being pulled into his body from a forceful tug on my Butt and my lips meeting his. I felt my boobs flattened on his torso in their usual somatic fashion — always a treat. My eyes closed, and what was subtlety on both our parts quickly turned to passion. I had no choice in this anymore. I was being manhandled and forced to submission by this Tank, made to feel like a Woman.
My forearms went around his Hull and my fingers through his hair — any place I could nudge and turn on. All the while, he is doing the same things to me. Inside, I am growing aroused beyond words — driven to moan and whisper indiscretions and Freudian slips I would only utter from my authentic pleasure. My emotional state, psyche, and soul were being taken back to childhood — dismissal then, embrace now. They should be signals to this man — to any man — of how much I was getting into this. I was 'F4M/DTF/NSA,' unequivocally.
He had taken his Big Bat and hit the Baseball well into the outfield, if not a home run, so he rounded to Second Base without the obligation to halt on the first plate. The heat and waves from his approval and endorsement enveloped me. I was standing on tippy-toes and then felt a drag in the small of my back by a stern and assertive hand. I was as closely knit to his body as allowable with our clothes still on. My kisses grew more adventurous and liberal, of which happy campers have told me are as great as my touch. My tongue was doing its handiwork; he impressed me with his. He was pulling up my leg to rest against his midsection as if to lift me from the ground and spare me my encumbrance. I'll admit, it was tough being Me sometimes.
He had his other hand grabbing into my tight Ass in the interim — a lot of Ass to grab into. Courtesy of a South-American heritage, the Brazilian Butt Lift came with the Package. As he did this, it caused everything so tender and bewitching to the commonfolk to stretch apart and shoot waves of exhilaration through me, from the top of my pointy hat, to where I sit on a broomstick, to the tips of my toes. I like it when my backside is played with and violated by a stronger counterpart, 'tis true.
I emphasize: With all that is Corporeal, simultaneously existing with all that is Conceptual, the pleasure I feel from this is Incommunicable. I felt another brutish hand betwixt my pregnable legs and its fingers pressing into fertile valleys below the pubic bone. He knew precisely where my Clit was, even with my dungarees obstructing it. We — being me and Her — were assuredly in trouble. Giving this Paragon of Masculinity no sign of refusal and every incentive to take this to another level, I immediately placed my hand on the Bump of unmentionables in his slacks. I was, dying then and there to have it rammed inside me — through any choice of an entrance — to placate my yearning.
I felt how hard it was and only wondered of its potential size when I had it out to put my hands on it. It felt disconcertingly Huge. Too huge for captivity. I aimed to be the girl to release it for good.
XI
I do not know how long we were making out. What could have been minutes seemed like hours to me? Or is it the other way around? My guy and I were standing out in public, and this shit was getting Real. He was going under my skimpy little summertime top and touching my bare, prohibited flesh by that point. I wanted him to take it off. I didn't stand a possibility to surmount to this; he would just triumph in one way or another. He could put me over a desk, stick his Dick in my Ass and fuck the reading glasses off me, and there would not be a goddamned thing I could do to prevent it. I knew it. Despite all that Respect I had for myself, I was ready to accept being got and fucked back into my place on the Hierarchy — fucked out of the Feminist Mindset that liked to creep up on me. And him being a Hunk and having it all rock-hard in his pants because of me only validated my Role and gave me that much more esteem — I accorded him his hard-on.
He was digging me. On the Ortho-Novum, or whatever I was taking at the time, there was no cause for us to be concerned about unplanned cherubs should things come to that. We were ready for this to happen.
My areolae diminished, nipples coagulated. I felt numb from the cocktail in my system. What a lousy feeling sometimes. Contrary to what's said about alcohol warming the blood, the opposite is true — it reduces body temperature. I was getting cold. Finally, my boo gave me an interval to be able to tell him that I “really wanted to be alone with him” — more than likely in those selfsame words, or fewer — implying that I needed him to fuck me. He understood. This guy was exceptional, incredible. Most talk too much, but he was of few words. He explained to me, in brevity, that he lived only a five-minute stroll from the house party and asked me if I wanted to go there with him. I answered, “Yes," with as much sincerity and solemnity as I could muster from my drunken state. He put his arm around me, said some hazy farewells and valedictions to his associates, and lead me from the property.
XII
The eve had turned late, at least according to whatever Pecksniffian condescender declared that 'when the sun is down, then it should be deemed by us as such.' I didn't know the exact time, but as long as I'd lived with Time, it had to have been at least after 23:00. It was a peaceful walk, lit by the scattered lamps on the road and the city's glow and hum. Not a lot was spoken between him and me, though I remember trading compliments and informing him of how much I was looking forward to this.
We were enchanted by each other in the ambiance of the midnight that warded off the distant sounds of commerce, transit, and day-in-day-out hustle-bustle.
My other half had a sturdy arm around my curvy waistline, and a steady palm on my belly — my more supple touch sought to rouse him on his back while he did so. I was on his left side; I reckon it's the instinctive side of an alpha male for me to choose. It made me feel great; these fluttery butterflies in my head with his hold down there. I strived to stay as flirty and lewd as I could with my hookup. But mayhaps a more magical side of me gave a more devoted sort of touch to him, as plausible while in motion, as we neared wherever he lived. Maybe my caring touch hoped to sustain the comfort and warmth we had already shared at the gathering together. Perhaps it hoped to obtain more.
I can get a bit melancholy while on the sauce; it is a depressant, after all. I remember my touch carrying a gravity. Was my fling feeling it like it was? Nah, probably not. Regardless, my swooning and blushing from this tall and mysterious drifter, leading me to be fucked, may have evoked some facepalming drama. He had his arm around my waist. His hand pressed into my womb; it possibly jerked a tear in the corner of my eye or two. Maybe a little one. I can become very emotional when my guard is down like it was there; is that so bad?
I get this fucking longing to gratify another entity and receive something in return from it. It is kind of difficult to explain. Most of my frequented types did not give me this in return. I wanted to exploit some form of compromise — a chunk that was taken out of their armor by means I would hope to overhear during pillow talk, highs, trips, or something. I aspire to get a hard-ass such as this one with my arm wrapped around to open themselves up to me; make me feel meaningful, if not indispensable to them. Maybe then I would repay them by letting them see me open up — let them have a taste of what really flows through my heart.
Though I would find myself in similar situations shortly in the future, most of the liquor was subsiding by then; I only downed the one cup at the gala — granted, a large cup. The temperature had fallen, and I was freezing. I remember shivering and trembling, my teeth gritting, but this could have been from the looming plans. I will confess, I was slightly anxious since I knew what was coming. I was in this sexy rascal's grasp and heading with him towards the fabricated and murk unventured. It did not matter; it was a beneficial kind of worry, more of a therapeutic dilemma, or being in labor before childbirth — the kind that made me feel like a lady. I had to have been looking good — my heavy eyeliner to lose himself in; my myriad of long sable hair abound for him to stir and sway. He was treating me well. He had respect for me, and I knew he would not hurt me. I was fucking ready for this.
XIII
We'd reached our destination. I had deduced — all while keeping up with the tradition of oohing and awing over the immaterial and mundane on our way over — that the structure was a lesser idyllic sight, fixed closer to the street. It was more of a bungalow, with less of a yard in front — a bit of a far cry from the dazzling, bourgeois casa we'd trekked from in the minutes that felt like ages ago. But if it's Moolah I'm after, then they don't know me at all.
He took me around to the rear of the dwelling to unlock a door. The backyard was more spacious, only as I recall from the low level of visibility, it being past my bedtime. No moment was wasted going inside.
He closed the doorway. I heard the keys clank as they hit the kitchen counter. It was dim, save for a small tinted light seen in his living room — he had left it as such for us: dark. The curtains were closed. I heard a radio on low; 88.1, a jazz station — maybe to dissuade intruders? Or had he been planning something here all along? What space was there appeared to be well-kept, as if he wasn't home a lot — or when he was, he had a needy bombshell clinging to him as he did on this night. It had this atmosphere of order and neatness — that of an industrial and regulated one — a well-disciplined fellow. Though, it felt like a cozy and homey place to me, too.
I was only judging all of this in a brief instance because he turned to confront me. I gawked at him with a minor trace of hesitancy, as if I could not believe this was happening to me right now. He took me in his arms, and I melted into a fervent kiss.
XIV
You get out of me what you put into me. Most of the plights that I braved with men were pseudo and superficial. There was no real thought of affection from them. But this seemed offbeat. I was feeling it — the vibe and the passion. He was giving me everything he had while still being vertical with clothes on his person, and he was fucking good at it.
I don't know how long we were fondling one another or how we were veering towards the living room floor. As we did so, I understood that pieces of our clothing no longer wanted to be a part of the equation. I had my Beau's shirt off before we hit the rug. An effortless quintessence of a man was on top of me, giving it up to me, and I back to him. My top was still on, likely thinly sown and suggestive.
I must confess I had not been wearing a bra since that eventide when I left work. It is my habit to ditch a bra from my soma at any opportune respite I can get. I have claustrophobia, and they are so fucking choking and uncomfortable. And, yeah, what was underneath the required conduct and expectation for people to have raiment on their persona in Society was probably blatantly visible to the public, too — i.e., my voluptuous 30Ds. But why should I have to wear a bra on such a nefarious night? He already knew it, of course. His hands were well up into my shirt and directly applied to all that is magnificent back at the party. He had not seen them unfiltered yet, however. We were still kissing; necking; feeling each other up — making love with each other. Does this not seem like it could want to go on for an eternity?
My toned legs were wrapping around his back and pulling him in. I hugged him as close to me as I could. He touched me all over, was rubbing his hand on my shorts, right where I like it. Arousing noises were being born by me through concupiscence and pleasure. He stopped a moment, said nothing, only looked at me — my mood dazed and bewildered; my hair a scintillating and frantic mess, as he edged my top over my boobs. He paused another sec, and his eyes went wide. Nevertheless, he did not comment, and neither did I. Our facial expressions were our conversation. Maybe I would be getting another kind of 'facial' pretty soon. I looked at him and gave half a smirk with a feigned exhalation through my nose. He seized the meaning that I wanted this to proceed.
He smooched me all over my upstairs and became enraptured by the visage of my exquisite knockers handcrafted by God. I closed my eyes and felt hot inside as he did so, never ceasing to convey my profound affections to him. He was traveling further downstairs in his affections towards me. My scantily sported top, a fluorescent orange insert brand name as I hark back to, had been discarded — flung across the pad. Both of us still had our pants on, obscuring the most sacred and sought-after regions. His was all I was musing about; what kind of monstrosity would I have to tussle with here? I could only feel it confined to his pants — what I felt scared me and shortened my breath, made me bite a lip or two. I was so fucking aroused.
He was past my navel at this point; his tongue had been in there. My pants, still being equipped, did neither of us any good. It was time. He knew it, and so did I. He slid them down my legs and past my bare feet that draped over his shoulders. I have cute feet and toes, probably painted then. He saw them — before glimpsing at the shaven grandeur farther up, clearly conspicuous behind a decadent thong — and was not opposed to putting any part of me into his trap.
He did something like stick me in his mouth, and I did something such as stroke the excess of his penis in his jeans with my other foot if only to entice him — as is my intuition when an apex has my toes at his mercy. His blue jeans were indeed still present, and I would be giving him prompts to take them off in succession with my waxed legs spread for him. He did not succumb. He took his time and it was turning me the fuck on in the meantime.
My darling had skipped down several floors. He was now operating from bottom to top, inevitably leading to my delectable vulva and all points between — within and without; protruded and retracted. Would whatever animal that lay hungry in the foliage cause a prolapse when it sprung out to attack me? We — me and my pussy — had to wonder how bad this was going to be. What had we gotten ourselves into this time?
It was no tricky task for this specialist to maneuver around my slutty looking band of string and put his mouth on areas and orifices that need no introduction to Mankind. There was no excuse not to know the female anatomy in 2014. Like the rest of his touch, it was an intrinsic gift to him — the right amounts of oscillated pressure applied under my little canopy. All I could think to do was just lay there and deal with it, play with my boobies, bite my lip, look down in amazement and reverence and savor it.
This was a man who was not afraid or ashamed to go down on a woman. Evidently, this was about my pleasure, not his. I felt like a queen. He tapped his tongue right into my spot with my hand on his head whilst I was gasping in total awe of this hottie and pleading with him for it to continue and never desist. What more could a girl want? Everything was dripping in secretion, famished to have this panther make a meal out of us. His tongue in my box and on Dr. Grafenberg's spot was positively Awesome — I never use this word lightly.
XV
At this point, we had me moaning in agony for him, my legs trembling, and nerve endings bestowing euphoric bolts of lightning through my body. I was so fucking close, and yet, he paused. He brought my legs together and ditched the sad excuse of synthetic material that remained on me, leaving me in the nude. I do remember faintly saying to him, in helpless and perplexed excitement, “Let me see it, Daddy,” as if I had to tell this guy how to do his job. I could not help it; I needed it so fucking badly!
He took the sides of my arms in both his hands and elevated me from the floor. He didn't have to tell me twice when he stood to his feet. I got on my knees and put my hands on his legs, never forgetting eye contact — laborious as it was, to focus on anything but my prize. My mate had already trod well past the third base by now, and I hadn't even seen it yet — I would not malinger here. It was time for him to head for the home plate — the final sprint. He undid the button and saved the zipper for me. I'd waste no time keeping his briefs on, either. I wanted the shock from this to strike me — though slowly, steadily, and in all profundity, I gripped the tops to slide them down.
In exact, shuddered words of, “Oh my God,” as it lept out from behind the final barrier of cloth and fell from its weight, oxygen had been displaced in my lungs and replaced by another wave of an electrical current that detonated in my chest. I could not believe what I was bearing witness to here. Before then, I'd seen in propria persona what constitutes Perfect and Large dicks — these are not terrible items at all. But I had not seen a cock as colossal as his, staring me right in the face as tangible. This dude was Hung. How in Fuck's name was I going to manage this! He put the 'Well' in 'Well Endowed' in every literal and iterated sense.
My breath quivered, and all I could think to do next was to put my hands on it — yes, it required them both. I'm on my knees, naked and flushed, before this monument of a man looking down at me. He was petting my head and pampering my brown-black hair, encouraging and inspiring me. Fuck, I was hot. It just behooved me, instinctively, to begin the process of engulfing it. Need I go into copious detail here? I was a prodigy of oral sex — of any sex. The simple translation: I love fucking.
I heard his breathing go up and felt his grip begin to tighten. He didn't do anything brutish or obnoxious to me, only tilted his head to the ceiling to enjoy it. This delighted and satisfied me as I proceeded to go down on it further. I couldn't fit its entirety into the back of my throat, as diligent and persevered as I was, so I ran along its sides instead. I glanced up at him and sought his trust in me to put his nuts in my mouth — gently so as not to hurt them. One hand remained to stroke on his cock, the other wrapped around his leg. I closed my eyes and listened to his stifled groans from the fabulous head he was receiving. The erotic redolence of sex was in the air and affecting my anima. I felt both of our raised pulses; my own was crippling me. My heart could not beat any faster than it was; my body was ready to explode like a volcano.
I rose from my knees a bit to play with myself. I doubt he noticed me reaching down to rub my pussy and press a finger or two onto my asshole. I continued to suck his dick off and allow as much of it to slide down into my throat as I could. I was so fucking ready for this guy to vanquish us. How were we going to fit this? I trusted him to be helpful and patient; he seemed like such a nice and handsome gent.
We were communicating with each other only through our expression; it went without saying. Both of us knew what to do before the moment had arrived. My sweetheart saw me dawdling and hesitating with his circumference still in my yap and gently withdrew. He had his hand brushing the side of my adorable mug and went to a bended knee to lay on the soft carpet. He didn't have to signal me; tell me two times — we had already agreed upon it. It was beautiful and organic.
On my way back down to meet him, I gave fellatio for a moment longer, simply to show how much I cared and also to prep it for penetration. Then I settled my hands on his warm and naked hide and laid atop him, my comely profile facing his. My body was swollen in its arousal as I lay pressed against him, everything so sensitive in the slightest movement. My lover put arms around me; I was no longer cold. I was like china, but he was gentle, caring only for my comfort. I wanted to kiss him again for it, and now free in the nude with the thought of his lush cock eagerly waiting in the middle of my titillating legs.
My choice. An inexpressible joy that can only be comprehended while feeling the phenomena; two conglomerate bodies becoming a better and fuller whole. I felt like a part of this person. We laced hands, sought fidelity while entwined, and committed ourselves to one another. We withheld nothing. I felt safe; he would not harm me. I only go by my nature when I feel this fierce of a connection with my partner.
XVI
I don't recall any other specifics of our lovemaking prior to insertion. What I do remember about this night were the length and girth. We were going to have to take this slow; it went without saying as he caressed me, and I gave him whimpers and hints of how nervous I was. I was as ready for it as I would ever be; burning, drenched, and relaxed. His very erect Johnson was still loitering around the entrance to my pussy. No condom was involved — always a gamble, but he seemed like a well-kept enough chap to me. I took his hand in mine and guided it down my back to display my wish. I placed mine on his shaft and carefully prodded its head through my labia and onto my slit to squeeze it in.
Yeah, he was enjoying himself. I did not remove my cajoling gaze from him, either. It entailed some parted mouths, some blood-and-tears, some concentrated squints, and mixed cries of anguish and relief, but we slipped the tip in. Every part of my vaginal cavity was screaming, “No, don't do this to me, Mel! It's too big!” But despite her quandaries, this was working out for us. Notwithstanding her bitching and vanity, we'd managed it, hand in hand, side by side; we were in this together now. I began to acclimate to my man's ferocious size and take his cock like it was put on Earth, designed, and tent for my insides.
I did my utmost to have as every much of a blazing inch stretching me apart as possible. I dug my fingers into his chest and arched my back, going down on this fucking fire-breathing leviathan as much as I could stomach. Its master and ruler — its Neptune — only laid there with his eyes closed and head on the carpet. He had stopped touching me at that point. Was he just relishing in my depravity and my desperation to make this work? Various “oh gods” and “oh fucks” were forcibly ousted from my vernacular amidst each heavier land onto his column. My tits bounced up and down for his entertainment and viewing pleasure. How great does that sound?
Still, he lay there, hands behind his head like nothing was happening, and my determination to win over his heart didn't mean fuck all to him. I felt it striking withering blows to my cervix at that point, and a substantial number of fiery inches remained outdoors. I could not, for the life of me, adjoin his ball sack to my filled gape. I leaned back like I love to do and could not sit down on it all the way. It forced me to remain aloft, quite literally. This man was fucking huge — a cock to contend with a giant's. Enough said.
XVII
The challenging amount of size was negligible after some minutes of nurtured friction, slower plummets, and repeated grindings. This job was not without its complications. It's not kids' stuff; it's strenuous and taxing — this was not easy work, and Pussy and I were having our work cut out for us. There were pings of discomfort and pleasure, but eventually, I was landing on it in enough of a meticulous rhythm to begin to feel an orgasm in the making of such immense depth and explosive magnitude as I had never felt.
Its surface texture just felt so damn fine inside; words cannot tell. My membrane encompassed every pulsing vein and intricacy. Its foreign heat melded with my familiar — it accommodated the ache on the spot where I kept liking it to hit. I was getting comfortable, slicker from the continual reams in and out of my hole. It was getting a lot easier to endure, very rapidly.
The explosion, and my trip to it, would not be canceled. His cock was hitting the home plate, and then some. If any pain persisted as it broke through the gates during the relentless siege into my pink, I was ignoring it. It was too good to stop. I had no jurisdiction over myself at this point; it had all switched over to mental. Nothing else was relevant. God, can I get into it. I was getting ready to come all over Daddy's cock, and I was telling him so. He did not need to be apprised by me; he saw me getting close. He no longer just lay dormant but reciprocated with affection, put his hands all over me, and gave me the time of night.
The feeling of his acknowledgment, on its own, was enough to send me over the edge, then and there. I tried to hold out for as long as I could. Why? I do not know. Perhaps it was my pride. Maybe I didn't want him seeing how easy I was; or how much I was fancying him. I didn't trust myself enough to let go. It would not matter; he would force the orgasm out of me eventually, by my will or not.
Things were getting more vocal on my part; nothing said was being moderated. I have something of a terrible fucking lip, nihilistic as I tend to be. He began to pound into my body as I met with his — a synchronized love dance that has been going on between Man and his woman for quite some ti
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