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Subject: {ASSM} Not So Fast {Joe} (M+F M-1st cons)
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2000 00:10:21 -0400
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Copyright Joe Lawrence, 2000.
--== Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ ==--
Before you buy.
<1st attachment, "hall.txt" begin>
She was an eighteen year old medical student. He was
a maths student. I was an engineering student. We all
slept naked, or nearly so, on the floor, the penetrating
light of early morning streaming through the cracks in
the ragged curtains. Around us the hall of residence was
sleepily coming to life, razors hummed, toothbrushes
shished, eyes looked blearily into mirrors reminding
their owners to never do it again.
I woke. Powerful scents assaulted me. Delicious
scents, rich and heady, full of heart-pumping passion and
thigh-straining energy. I watched the dust dance in the
light for a moment before sensing a dampness under my
back. I reached round, gently so as not to disturb
anyone. I fished out a piece of cloth, wet even now. I
lifted it to the light. It was her white underwear, still
soaked with her. I smiled and put them down softly on the
carpet. They were still wet. Still wet, and still
pulsating with the scent that filled the whole room.
She stirred, turning in her sleep to get more
comfortable. Her arm flopped over my belly as our bodies
pressed closer together but she neither woke nor made a
sound. I felt a new dampness on my legs. A warm, hairy
dampness. I reached down to it, softly, gently feeling
it. It was hair, damp enough to glisten in the light, wet
enough to saturate the air around it with scent strange
yet so wonderful as to be the most beautiful thing in the
whole world. I slipped my hand over the ends of the
hairs, feeling the heat radiating out from their roots.
Then my hand touched bare flesh, a thigh. It too was
damp, but a different kind of damp, more clinging,
somehow more private. It too added to the scents that
filled the room, but it didn't cry out, now demand
attention like the other did. It was a scent that was as
familiar as the other was exotic. It was my scent, the
dampness on her thigh was mine.
I stiffened. I thought back to the night, how it had
all culminated here on the floor. Us two men shared a
room; she was a friend. Just a friend, but a good one.
She was engaged and we knew her fiance well. We all got
along well - going out for drinks together, talking; just
being friends. She was no virgin, we all knew that and
sometimes joked about it; only one of us, myself, was. We
all had a good time together.
Two of us shared the room. We went most places
together, so much so that probably, no definitely, some
of the other students thought we were homosexual. We
weren't, but what was the point of arguing about it? We
enjoyed doing things together. Most things. In the night
we had done a few more things together, nothing more. Yet
we were quite different. He was slightly older, not that
that mattered much. We were from different parts of the
country, brought together by chance in the capital for
university. We drank together, sometimes too much, but we
were young and carefree and eager for more.
That evening had started slowly. In fact it was
boring. We, my roommate and I, were sitting wondering
what to do when she knocked at our door. I creaked the
door open theatrically and beckoned for her to come in.
She smiled at us as she strode in.
"Would we like to go to a midnight movie premier?"
she asked. It was a horror movie apparently. "It would be
fun," she said. It sounded like a good idea, and a whole
lot more exciting than anything we could come up with. We
said yes.
My roommate went to get his girlfriend. The four of
us went into town, having a drink before heading for the
theatre. There was nothing unusual in that. We often
drank as a group, though not as two pairs, just as four
friends. The programme started at half past eleven, with
the feature rolling on the stroke of the witching hour.
The movie itself was fun, as she had said it would be,
with some genuinely scary moments thanks to some, for the
time, remarkable special effects. It had some funny
moments too, such as when the lead's dead and decaying
brother meets him in a soft porn cinema, and some sexy
ones too. A good time was had by all, as they say, and
yes, it did save the evening.
We came out of the theatre to be greeted by a crisp
November night, and no obvious way of getting back to
what passed for home. In our adventurous state we had
forgotten about the practicalities of transport past
midnight, and it was now fast approaching two in the
morning. It would be gone three before we eventually
stepped off the night bus and walked through the near-
silent back streets to our hall. She offered us all a
coffee in her room before bed. The girlfriend declined,
and wandered off sleepily to her own room.
As I sat sipping coffee in the small hours in her
room I thought to myself how this all might have looked
to some people. To many, simply being in a girl's room
after midnight, or even eleven o-clock was evidence of
sex. Yet here we were, two guys, in a girl's room at well
past three, all fully clothed and without even a thought
of sex. Ok, so I did think about it fleetingly, but I
certainly didn't show it.
We talked quietly. We drank our coffee. I put down
my empty cup. I told the others I had better go to get
some sleep. My roommate agreed, it had been a great
evening and night, but it was time to wrap it all up.
Then my heart leapt into my mouth. She looked at us and
said that she didn't want to spend the night by herself.
I asked why, incredulous. She told us that she was
scared. My roommate told her that her room, being a
single, wasn't big enough for all of us, where would we
sleep? In any case sleeping over in a girl's room was
bound to cause all sorts of talk. No, the two of us males
agreed, we couldn't stay, in any case it was only a movie
after all, it wasn't real. "Ok", she told us. We turned
to leave. I opened the door and held it for my roommate.
He walked through and before I followed I turned to her
and said "It'll be all right, you'll be fine."
As I walked along the landing I looked back and saw
her standing smiling at the doorway. I thought to myself,
"Look what you've gone and done! You've blown the best
opportunity you've ever had!" and moments later, "No,
that'd be stupid, taking advantage. No, it'd have ruined
everything. Walking away's the best thing. Tomorrow it'd
all have felt really wrong."
We turned to go down the stairs. I heard a light
switch and then her door closing. I remember thinking
that was odd. Then we were out into the night again. The
hall of residence was in two buildings with an open
square between. Our room was in the older building just
across the square. We jogged quietly. It was very late,
and the silence around us bid us not to talk. I entered
our hall first. The night warden, another student earning
a little to ease his way through university, jokingly
wondered if we had turned into vampires during the
evening. My roommate replied that werewolves would be
more appropriate. We hurried onwards, up the stairs to
our floor, along the narrow corridor brightly lit by bare
bulbs. I fumbled for a key. The door rattled, worn and
loose in it's frame, as I unlocked. We went in, busying
ourselves with hurried forms of the rituals of
preparation for bed.
The knock rapped sharply through the air light only
by the strip light over the washbasin. We both froze. I
was tidying the covers on my bed, and was in my usual
night wear - just underpants. My roommate was brushing
his teeth, spitting the water out into the basin. He
looked at me, saw my undress and wiping his mouth dry
motioned to me to find something else to wear or to get
out of eye-line of the door. I reached for the shirt I
had just taken off. The sleeves were inside out, and the
buttons suddenly seemed impossible to do up. I fumbled
for a few seconds before flinging off the shirt and
jumping into bed instead. What did the night warden want?
Had I dropped something perhaps?
My roommate cracked open the door. Just wide enough
to see who stood there knocking.
"What are you doing there?" He asked incredulously.
"I told you I didn't want to be alone tonight."
I clutched the covers tight over my head. My
roommate opened the door a little wider and turned to me
asking, "Well, It'll be ok I suppose, won't it?"
"I lowered the covers slightly. "What will?"
"Her sleeping with us tonight."
"Oh no! Not sleeping with you!" She interjected.
"Not that, no. Just sleeping in the same room as someone
else, you two, if that's ok."
"Look, it's late," I said, "as long as I don't have
to give up my bed its ok. Lets just get some sleep,
please."
"Thank you, both of you."
My roommate gallantly offered his bed to her. She
accepted, he hurriedly made up a bed of sorts on the
floor. I had to give up a blanket to him, but despite the
chill the hall was heated well enough. I admit watching
vicariously as she shed her outer clothes. She didn't
seem to mind. She climbed into the bed in just her bra
and panties. In any case we had gone swimming together
more than once and she had worn just as little then, and
we had been much closer, touching even.
She smiled at me and said. "Goodnight. Don't let the
werewolves bite."
As the light went off and my roommate slipped into
his makeshift bed in a tee-shirt and underwear I, perhaps
naively thought that that would be that. We'd all go off
to sleep.
For a short while it seemed as that would indeed
happen. I heard my roommate roll over to get more
comfortable. My thoughts were that a girl was sleeping
nearby. A little light filtered in from the streetlamp
outside. The bare bulbs cast their glow through the
gaping crack under the door. A clock ticked. In the
distance a motorbike started, revved a couple of times
then moved off in to the darkness. One of us moved in
bed. I dozed, sleep finally getting the better of me.
I soon woke to a movement. The sound of carefully
placed footsteps. The sound of a tap being opened ever so
gently so as not to wake anyone. A gulp, a splash as the
remainder of the glass found its way into the basin. A
shadow moved through the room. A tall shadow, taller than
I and nearly as tall as my six foot roommate. Even in the
dark I could tell that this was not his shadow.
"Why don't you just take the glass with you?" He
said.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were asleep," she replied
quietly.
"Keep it down you two," I said through a heavily
beating heart. "It's difficult enough getting to sleep as
it is without you two jabbering on."
Jokingly she said, "Would it help if I gave you a
goodnight kiss?"
"No! my heart's going ten to the dozen as it is,
that's just make things worse."
"Is it?" The shadow moved to the foot of my bed. It
deftly drew the covers up a little and gripped my ankle
firmly but gently. Professionally in fact. She wasn't
feeling me up, she was feeling for something. She
adjusted her finger's grip until she felt what she was
after. "Oh yes," she said after a quiet pause, "So it
is."
"What are you doing?"
"Feeling your pulse."
"But I thought you had to feel my wrist for that."
"Oh, the wrist is the easiest, and it's easy to get
at, but there are other places. The ankle, for example,
or the neck."
"I'm not letting you near my neck, not after that
film!"
My roommate laughed as he lay in his bed.
"Ok then, how about the groin?"
"The ankle's bad enough. Why do you think my
heartbeat's so high anyway eh? If you put your hands
anywhere near my groin I'd die!"
"No you won't!" she laughed. Come on, I've got to
practise my bedside manner you know. With that she loosed
her hold on my ankle. She drew her hand away for a
moment. Then said, "Here, I'll prove it." She thrust her
hand further under the covers, squatting down to get a
better position. I drew back up the bed. She clasped my
thigh just above the knee. "No hold still, this won't
hurt a bit." She slid her hand up my thigh, I trembled.
She pressed her fingers into the flesh of the inside of
my right thigh, close to my covered groin. My heart
pounded. She surely couldn't have missed that pulse, it
was practically blowing my head apart with each surge.
She held her hand in place for something over ten
seconds, matching my every discomforted squirm. Then it
was over, she withdrew her hand.
"Well what is it?"
"A pulse, fast and strong."
"What did you expect a guy's heart to do when a
great girl touches his thigh?"
"I've been taking men's groin pulses all week, and
none had that reaction. Here, you can take my pulse now."
She got up. In my mind I saw her lift her leg on to the
bed, giving me her ankle. She was not a delicate flower
of a girl. She was tall, but with comparatively short
legs topped by high buttocks. She was muscular and fit.
She swam well, and had been on the university reserve
team. She had long blond hair that had to be tamed for
college, and left to hang loose in the evenings. This
daily mistreatment ensured that it rarely fell straight
from her crown. She came to my side, but she didn't lift
her leg to give me her ankle, instead she stood with her
legs broadly split. I looked at her in what little light
there was, detecting soft traces of her female scent.
"I'm not a medical student. I can't feel you there
for any reason. I'm afraid of touching something I
shouldn't."
My roommate coughed uncomfortably.
"Ok," she said. "Do you want me to show you how?"
"No. Please I couldn't stop myself I'm afraid."
"It's ok. I'm faithful to my fianc,. I won't let you
do anything you shouldn't."
"Even so. please don't ask me to feel you there."
"Will this help?" she asked putting one hand on the
edge of the bed and gently lifting her leg. Her foot came
to rest close to my hand.
"Where?"
"Here," she said taking my hand in hers and slipping
it to her ankle. "Just here." She grasp my two longest
fingers and curled them round her flesh covered bones to
where two met in a sinew filled groove on the inside of
her leg just above the foot. She held them tight to her.
I felt nothing at first. She hopped a little closer and
pressed me harder to her. Then I felt it, a slight
rippling deep in the flesh, a regular beating - her
pulse.
"Wow! You really can feel it there!"
"Yes. What else did you think ? I wasn't seducing
you, I was just, oh I don't know. I can't sleep, can
you?" She said as she released her grip.
"I don't know about you two, but I certainly can't
get to sleep with you two feeling each other all night!"
"We're not feeling each other! Ok, so we are I
suppose, but it's not like that." To prove my point I
grew bold and moved my hand through the darkness. It
touched her thigh high up. She gasped in surprise, much
as she would have if my hand had been cold, but said
nothing. I pressed my fingers in her flesh, feeling
incredibly adventurous.
"Not there. Higher," she said in a matter of fact
way. Yet her voice trembled audibly with the beat of her
heart. Higher? How could I dare go higher? Her whole body
pulsed now. Every part of her shook to her heartbeat. She
took my hand once more and slipped it up her inner thigh.
There, close enough to feel the heat radiating from
between her legs, she pressed my fingers into her thigh.
I felt her pulse, and her breathing, steadily riding and
falling, lifting her heat away from me with each intake.
She withdrew her guiding hand. I took that as a signal. I
pushed my hand higher, briefly touching the fabric of her
panties before she firmly but silently guided my hand
away, pulling it down below her knee. I don't know if my
roommate saw what happened, or if he heard anything that
could have revealed my actions to him. I know that she
could have given me away. She could have told me to move,
instead she had chosen to do so silently and gently. She
had also not moved away, or even told me not to touch her
- she had guided my hand deliberately to a `safer' part
of her, but a part nonetheless.
"There," she said softly. Did you feel that?
"Yes," I said weakly. I had thrilled to the barest
illicit touch of a girl. To my surprise she had not
bitten my head off for it. My heart beat faster, knowing
that she would let me touch, but would not let me go too
far. Her hand had told me that she was serious about
being faithful to her fiance and while most of me wanted
desperately for her not to be, an important part of me
honoured her enough not to let the rest of me push her
too far.
Then she moved away. She didn't brush me off, she
just stepped forward I the darkness. Her hair glinted in
the light from the street. Her eye, caught in the beam,
seemed to sparkle bright. She turned round and backed to
the bed, dropping to sit with her back to me, her legs
stretched out in front, pushing against the crumpled
sheets under which my roommate still lay. She sat there
against my bed for a few seconds before reaching behind
for my hand. She pulled it to her shoulder, placing it
there with determined deliberation. I slipped my hand
back and forth, caressing her shoulder. She began to tip
her head a little to meet each stroke. Her flesh, in the
chill of the night, felt dry and slightly rougher than
I'd expected. I pressed a little harder, making an
attempt at massage. Her shoulders rose and fell
noticeably, her hair spilled over on to my bed. I sat up,
keeping the covers over my chest. I reached to her with
my other hand, massaging both of her shoulders as best I
could, feeling the tension in her power flesh beneath. I
heard a rustle, my roommate was moving, though to where
and why I couldn't tell. I continued my motions, wrapped
up in my private world of sensation. I grew bolder with
my caresses. She seemed to like me gently running my
hands over her neck, and less gently down her back. I
even tried slipping down her arms. She let me do it all.
The only things to hamper my exploration of her were her
bra straps, but I dared not move them nor even go near.
They said no, and set her limits, but she did not.
I moved closer still, only now letting the covers
slip exposing my unhaired chest. Now I could grow bolder
still. What would she do? She suddenly shuddered. What
had I done? Nothing as yet. I heard a muffled "Sorry," in
my roommate's voice from the darkness. She settled down,
bringing her hand up to mine. For a moment we rested our
hands together on her shoulder. Then she left me once
again, and I continued my touch. I was feeling the bare
flesh of a girl. I could hardly believe it, yet it was
happening. Pushed on by the thought I moved my hands over
her shoulders on to her upper chest. She let me run them
across her. She let me press my cheek close to her neck.
She let me go lower. She let me caress the fullness of
her revealed breast until I touched the fabric of her bra
cup. She wore full cups, while in my mind I had touched
her breast I probably had not until my fingers contacted
the fabric. Once more I feared she would shout at me, or
worse. Once again she simply took my hands in hers and
moved them back to her shoulders, out of harm's way. I
resumed my caress, sheepishly and tentatively at first,
until she turned her head and gently kissed my hand as it
rested hesitantly on her shoulder. I moved my head
forwards, closer to hers. Our lips met, just a touch,
then she turned away again. I slipped my hands firmly
over her shoulders and down her chest. I once more
touched fabric, yet no hand moved to bid me away. She let
me run my hands over her white-cupped breast. I did not
know where to touch, or where to expect her to want to be
touched, if at all. She had told me where not to touch,
and now she'd let me go there. Still she said nothing.
She began to respond under my fingers, her nipples
hardening, pressing through the fabric. I wanted to feel
the full fullness or her breasts. I moved my wandering
hands up again, above the cup's hemline. Pressing harder
into her flesh I tried to slip my hand under the cloth. I
managed to get a finger under and for a moment she seemed
to be going to let me go further, then her hands once
more came up to move me away. I went back to caressing
her back.
I heard a noise like my roommate kissing something,
a slight noise in the darkness. She stretched taller. As
she rose I run my fingers under her side bra straps,
expecting her to move me away again. I ran my hands
forwards as she slipped back down. Her hands moved again.
I desperation, as her hands rose, I shoved my hands
forward more, round her sides under the fabric to rest on
her breasts, though still out of reach of her nipples.
Her hands touched my forearms, but instead of going
forward to grab my still exposed wrists she reached round
behind and, arching her back off the side of the bed, she
fumbled for something. Suddenly the pressure from the bra
was eased, and with a final movement, released altogether
as she drew it away. She dropped it and returned her
hands to mine, following my inexpert movements. She
sighed as my finger touched her now bare nipples. I
sighed with her and just left them there, her growing
still underneath my touch.
For a while I honestly didn't know what to do next.
I was touching a girl's breasts, her nipples hard at my
fingertips, her heavy breath matching mine, but what
next? More feeling, more caressing? How much more?
Whether to generally caress or whether to concentrate on
something, presumably the nipples? I lay there, half-
sitting, half-crouching, for half a minute or more.
"What should I do now?" I asked naively.
"I'll not be unfaithful to my fiance," she
reiterated as she turned her head to me. She kissed me
again, but this time it was more than a light brush, she
pressed her lips to mine and opened them. I didn't
respond and she drew back a little. "its ok," she said,
"Its ok." It moved forward, she too, our lips meeting
again, both our mouths opening this time. I felt her
hands on mine, gently guiding my fingers to her nipples.
When they touched she pushed her tongue past my lips.
Opening wider she devoured me, moving forwards, dragging
me with her; dragging me off the bed. My hands couldn't
hold on to her, and we parted. She turned round to lie
full length beside my roommate. She beckoned with her
hand for me to join her. By now the first light of dawn
was beginning to break through the thin curtains and I
could see the darkness of her nipples against the
whiteness of her breast. The nipples stood out firmly,
rounded cylinders a quarter inch or more proud from their
corrugated discs. Her body was naked apart from the
modest panties, once purest white, now visibly grey at
the crutch. The air filled with what was to me a strange
scent. I drew it in with a deep breath. I knew not what
it was, yet it made me desire her with every once of my
flesh. As I watched her beckon she turned her head to
kiss my roommate passionately. I felt left out, as if
what I had started he was going to finish. I slumped back
in my bed, frustrated and annoyed. Still her hand
beckoned. She even arched her hips off the floor,
spreading her legs slightly to make sure I saw her
crutch. But what was the point if she was going to be
faithful to her fiance?
Their prolonged kiss ended, and she turned to me
once more.
"Come," she said, "Lay with me. Please."
How could ignore the pleading of her eyes? How could
I deny her? No matter that the night wouldn't end with me
giving her my seed. That wasn't important after all, just
being with her was. I threw the covers aside and, my
underpants barely hiding my straining erection, I moved
off the bed to lay beside her. She held me tight as I
rolled to her. My roommate kissed her again and she drew
my hand back to her far breast. With my feet touching
hers I barely reached to her shoulders with my mouth, so
kissing her again was out of the question, in any case my
roommate had that very well in hand. As my head was so
close I risked getting closer still. I put out my tongue
and ran it over shoulder and chest. Down, down, down to
her breast. I lingered, wondering at the beautiful
consistency and give of her. Round and round the rounded
rise I ran, her rippling beneath. I paused for a moment
close to her disc, then moved on again. She didn't try to
stop me, I took it to mean she wanted, or at least
accepted, me to go further. Stopping my circuits I moved
up running my tongue over her fully firm nipple. Now her
hand did move to me, pressing my head firmly away. Saying
"no," once more. Just like she had said "no," time and
time before. I moved away, replacing my tongue with my
hand. Surprisingly she said her unspoken "no," once more.
This time, instead of pulling my hand up her chest she
pressed it lower, leaving it on her belly. Here I felt
her breathing, deep within her, more strongly. I kissed
her flesh again and again, each kiss landing lower on her
chest until one landed on the tip of her out stretched
nipple. She arched up, seemingly to give it to me. I took
it in, rounding my lips around her disc, flicking her
nipple with my tongue inside my mouth. For a while I was
more than content to leave my hand lying on her belly.
Her breast fully occupied my attention. Maybe, I thought,
she would enjoy both breasts being stimulated. I ran my
hand up her belly, cupping it under her free breast for a
while before running it over the nipple. It wasn't as
hard or protruding than the one in my mouth, but I didn't
get a chance to try to make it harder. Yet again she
brought that school-mistressly hand up to chastise mine,
moving it back to her belly. She held it there for a
moment as she came up for air between kisses.
If she didn't want it higher then maybe she wanted
it lower. Surely not. Surely she could not have wanted to
give that much to us? No, she said she wanted to be
faithful to her fiance, and that's how it was to be. If I
went between her legs then it'd all be over, wouldn't it?
Before I had a chance to properly consider the question
she seemed to answer it. Taking my hand in hers once
again she pushed it lower, down over her navel, lower
over her slight concavity, then her flesh began to rise.
There she left my hand, resting in that nether land
between navel and mons. My fingers lay just short of her
panty waistband, just short of that which she said she
would only give to her fiance. My bravado deserted me,
and instead of delving under her sole remaining piece of
fabric I ran my hand over the flesh of her lower torso. I
caressed in an inverted U, along her belly and down each
side to almost her waistband, but never over it. Never.
Still she kissed with my roommate, he still in his
bed, only his arms outside to hold her. At the end of on
one stroke I moved my hand lower, finally passing it over
the fabric of her panties. Just the side that is, down
her outer thigh. She raised it to my touch with each
stroke. I repeated it over and over, not daring to go
further, trying to linger on her exposed flesh and not
the garment.
Coming away from her nipple I slumped beside her,
living for the moment in the feel of her flesh. My finger
caught on the fabric edge on a down stroke, and instead
of forcing it down I ran it along the edge - the edge of
tomorrow, the edge of heaven. She didn't complain, so
emboldened once more I adjusted my hand position for the
return stroke, pressing my finger clearly under her
waistband, under and into her panties. I didn't touch any
hair, just smooth tense, and clear skin. Her hand was
there at the end of the stroke to take my hand away, back
up her belly. "No," it said firmly.
Was this the line in the sand? Had I gone too far,
or not far enough? Just what did `unfaithful' mean? There
was only one way to find out. Each time so far that she
had said "no" she had said "yes" when asked a second
time. Was she saying "No, don't do that," or "No, don't
do that yet."? Driven by instincts deeper than any I knew
I soon asked a second time. I didn't try to sneak into
her panties, nor for do it `accidentally'. I simply
caressed her belly and thighs for a time as before, then
saying `please' under my breath, I slipped my hand down
squarely pushing my fingers under the waistband. I moved
it to one side, to her thigh, pushing my fingers clear
under the fabric, to emerge on the other side. She kept
her hand by her side. I slid my hand closer to her
middle, this time I did touch hair. The hair on her head
was fine and soft, I had expected that elsewhere on her
body to be the same, yet it wasn't. I had expected that
hair to be soft, downy wisps, yet it wasn't. It was only
then that she brought her hand up to take me away.
So, I had gone too far. Not in her panties. I got
the message. Maybe over them? After a few strokes of her
belly I slid my hand down again, this time staying
outside her panties. Her hair seemed to cushion my touch
now, I could almost feel every hair through the fabric.
She didn't try to deny my touch. I found why the fabric
had looked patchy grey - it was wet. Not just damp, not
just humid, it was clearly wet. My touch elicited a flood
of scent. I didn't press hard, I just skimmed the fabric,
once twice, and a third time lower still, my hand
slipping down between thighs that parted a little to ease
its passage. Then, as was now becoming predictable she
intervened again. The pattern was now as firmly
established as was my erection. I would go one step
further, she would say "no,", I would go back to
something `safe' for a while before trying again, this
time she would not resist, not complain, and not stop me,
until the next time. If she really had drawn a line in
the sand she had either moved it time and again, or she
was prepared for it to be sidestepped. All the while I
was getting that little bit bolder, that little bit more
excited, that little bit closer to her. Bit by bit she
was letting her guard down.
Where does a young first timer go from such a
position? There's little point in getting on top and
humping away, assuming that her hand would have let it
happen. How long had it all taken? How much longer was
there to go? How far would it go? It couldn't go all the
way, could it? I did what I had done all along, try to go
a little bit further, a little bit lower, a little bit
more intimate. After a couple of perfunctory caresses of
her belly I slipped my hand down one more time, past the
waistband that had been the line a little while before,
past the hair that had been the line a few moments
before, this time though there was no fabric to protect
her, and none to hide the wetness between her legs. I
pushed my hand down unrepentantly over her mons and on to
her hair covered labia. She didn't move her hand. I
slipped my whole hand lower, under her body. Taking the
waistband of her panties with it. She did now move her
hand, but only to pull her panties further down her
thighs which then parted even more against force of the
elastic. I was amazed at the heat given off by her. It
seemed to flow from deep within, flooding out with her
scent along a thin voluptuous crack. I looked down over
her chest and belly. The light was now streaming in and
in it her pubic hair, while coarse and hairy, lay like a
field of corn. The flesh of her mons stood out clearly
through it, though to the touch the hair was an
impenetrable mat. Her flesh parted beneath me. Wherever
the line had lain, it was now clear that we were well
beyond it and that it no longer mattered to us. The air
was filled with her scent that had saturated her panties
and clung to her hair. It eased my finger's relentless
passage. She brought her knees up, bending them. She
moved her hand to mine, but not to stop me, rather to bid
me wait a while as she brought her knees together as her
expressive hand drew her panties down her legs. She
wriggled out of them, her lips, moist and hot, writhing
beneath my fingers. She flipped her remaining garment,
heavy with her own lubrication, away. No doubt she meant
for it to go far from us, but in its sodden glory it
dropped short at the small of my back. I cherished its
cooling touch. Now, unencumbered by its restrictive hold,
she parted her legs fully, opening her lips to let my
fingers in. Somewhat perturbed by her sudden display of
abandonment I drew my hand back a little so that my
longest finger's tip lay on the very topmost part of her
outer lips. Pressing down I pushed it forward. It slipped
down suddenly, coming to rest in what appeared to be U-
shaped channel. I slipped it forwards, the flesh dragging
slightly under its as yet unlubricated touch. She
wrenched herself from my roommates mouth to gasp for
breath. Their embrace soon began again.
Now there was no question as to her stopping me. She
would not, the time for that had passed and I was
determined to make the most of my new found freedom to
feel the most intimate parts of a woman. I had the barest
knowledge of what they were all called. I did not know
what had made her gasp, but I did know what I had found
when, on pressing lower still, my fingers sank deep into
her. That moment was very, very special, and she seemed
to know it too, for as my fingers slipped joyously in the
glory of her she touched me again. This time it was not
my hand that she grabbed. It was something quite
different. She urgently pushed my underwear aside, not
that it covered much of me by that stage. I sprang out,
my eager youth, no longer confined by practicalities and
convention, showing for all to see. Yet no one did, not
I, nor my roommate nor the beautiful woman who took it
between her fingers and began stroking it furiously. This
was no gentle caress, it was far harder and faster than
anything I had done myself, and it all too soon brought
me to my peak. I forgot what my hands were doing, I
forgot everything, for here was a woman pleasuring me not
because she had been asked, not that any ever had, but
because she wanted to, or it seemed to me desperately
needed to. My orgasm shot through me. I was transfixed -
I could not breath, see, hear nor feel anything save that
which was spurting out of me. Afterwards I saw the dawn
through a red haze. I snuggled close to her as she
continued to stroke me for a few moments until it was
clear that my passion was spent in the damp runnels on
her side.
When I recovered I felt a new motion, but it wasn't
mine. It was regular and rhythmic. My roommate's hand had
replaced me as I came. His palm pressed firmly on her
mons while two of his fingers penetrated her powerfully
and rhythmically. My touch had been tentative and
exploratory, his had only one aim - to make her come, and
as quickly as possible. The sight and sounds in the early
morning quickly rebuilt my erection. I reached for her
hand, the one that had taken me so quickly. I urged her
to stroke me again. She was unsure at first, her hand
feeling my partial hardness until it firmed into a full
erection. She pumped me at her frantic pace, fully two
strokes to my roommates one within her. This time I
didn't come quickly, or even at all. Her hand was not
enough. I tried stroking her breast, and then licking and
sucking at the nipple once more, but it still wasn't
enough to lift me all the way. I knew what I needed, I
needed to feel her once more, to savour her fluidity, her
fullness, her heat and her tightness. She kept up her
pounding, then wordlessly it slowed and stopped, yet she
didn't let go, she just tightened her already iron grip.
Something overtook her. Her cries, if she needed to make
any, were swallowed by my roommate. She didn't seem to
grow stiff, nor arch her back, the only sign that she was
coming was that she stopped stroking me. After a few
seconds I took her hand and pumped it, showing her what I
needed. She took my lead, and her rate slowly increased.
Still I couldn't come. Why I needed to once more, and so
soon, I really don't know, I was just something I had to
do. I wriggled my underwear off. As she kept up her
assault. Then, now as free as she was, I twined one of my
legs around hers. She stopped, brought her hand to me
again, pressing my side, showing the way she wanted me to
go. Off her, away from her? No, on to her. She parted her
legs enough to take mine between. She pressed me firmly.
I lifted my other leg over hers. Now, with both legs
between hers there was nothing to prevent what was to
happen. She took my trembling firmness in her hand and
drew me to her. She wriggled a moment to adjust her
position, then she drew me forward. My thighs pressed on
hers, warm, damp and sticky. She let go and moved her
hand behind me, pulling me on to her. My first touch was
on her hairs, my tip slipping through her mat. She
pressed on me to withdraw and try again. I did, this time
I pressed too high again, though less so. My head
pressing, not uncomfortably for either of us, into the
top of her parting folds. The third time she grasped my
root firmly, holding me down and straight as I pressed
forwards. I pressed my hands to the floor on either side
of her. My roommate finally stopping his kissing, letting
her give herself to me completely. She lifted her head to
mine and kissed me again, fully once more. As her tongue
entered my mouth she pulled on my root. We contacted. I
held tight to feel the heat and lust mingling with the
scent and slip of her lubrication. Her folds, already
flushed with blood from one coming, were full and
beginning to dry on the outside. Under my probing head
she was still full and fully wet. I did not know it but
she was as ready as any woman can be. What I also did not
know was that she had been since I had first touched her
breasts. From that moment on, she later confided, it had
not been a question of if we were to make love, it was
one of when.
When was then, there on the floor of that room, with
my roommate lying beside me and my first partner
underneath me. It was morning now, a new day, and it
seemed the perfect moment for a new life to begin - mine,
my full sexual life. The tightness in my head grew almost
unbearable. She ended our kiss and looked into my
frightened eyes, "Don't be afraid. I won't bite. It's ok,
you can take me. Please," she said, "Please fuck me." A
girl had actually said please, she actually wanted me to
make love to her, she wanted me! She grasped me firmly, I
pressed forwards and entered a fraction. She opened
around me easily. My roommate's fingers had made her very
accommodating. "Enter me all the way. Now! Please!" My
sensations swam round my head. My heart pounded, my
firmness ached; her body heaved up to me. I thrust in
firmly, slipping all the way into her in one smooth,
solid motion. She gasped, closing her eyes as she
exhaled. She threw her head back and tried to draw her
feet back, bringing her knees higher. Our flesh and hair
joined, our heat became one. I felt her bearing down on
me within, tightening around me with each breath. For a
second I thought I could feel her heartbeat within her. I
tried to withdraw, but her hand, on my buttocks now,
forced me back. Her breath shuddered through her in short
bursts. I tried to withdraw again, again her hand forced
me back in a short, stabbing thrust. She locked her legs
around me to prevent me from with drawing again, but it
was a position she couldn't maintain for long, or could
she? In tiny spasms she worked on me within her. I
couldn't feel anything specific, all I could feel was an
all-encompassing intensity that centred loosely in my
groin. I did, and couldn't, know what she was feeling, I
could barely feel her fingernails pressed hard into my
buttocks, and her legs locked tightly around me. I did
feel I wanted to come inside her, I knew I had to, that
that was what I was here to do and that was what I felt I
would soon do if she would only allow me to thrust. She
kissed me again, this time she didn't thrust her tongue
at me; instead with open mouth she invited me to do it to
her. I did, gently at first, then faster and deeper
before parting. Had I managed to convey my meaning as
well as her hand had hers?
She lessened the pressure from her legs, and moved
her hand from my buttocks to my hips. There she could
guide rather than force. She dropped her legs back to the
floor. I pulled back, and to her sigh I slipped from her
depths. I withdrew until only my head nestled between her
warm lips. I paused there for a moment, finding her
nipple with my own lips. I flicked at it for a moment,
wriggling my hips in an attempt at teasing her. Then I
sank on to her nipple, devouring it, sucking into my
mouth. A thrust forwards, into her deeply once more. She
struggled to accommodate me only for me to withdraw once
more. Barely had she closed around me than I thrust in
fully once more. I repeated the motion, thrust after
thrust, all the while continuing my licking and sucking
on her breast and its delicious nipple. She gasped at
each of my thrusts, each gasp a little deeper and sharper
than the last. Had I not already come I'd not have lasted
to give her even one of the thrusts, yet as it was I
could repeat it over and over, each time she grew wilder,
more abandoned. I felt an intrusion between us. I slowed
and shallowed my thrusts as I tried to work out what it
was. She felt my unease and through her gasps reassured
me.
"It's ok. I need more, that's all." It was my
roommate's hand, it's fingers drawn there by her hand.
They pressed between the tops of her lips, rubbing her
aching flesh between. I picked up the speed and force of
my thrusts, pressing her back to the floor with each
movement. I felt the beginnings of my seed and spurred
on with the thought of leaving her filled with it, thrust
even faster. It was still nowhere near as fast as she had
pumped me, but it was more than fast enough to bring me
to the brink.
"Its soon," I said.
"No!" she shouted, "No! You mustn't! Please no!"
I suppose she had thought that because I had already
come I couldn't again so soon. She had nearly been right.
It was her beauty and her hand that had made it possible.
Now, on the verge of completing my desire she wanted me
to stop. I couldn't, it was too late.
"Please. I need to come in you. Now! please!"
Her head snapped back and I felt a new wave of
sensation flow from her.
"Oh God! Yes!"
That pushed me over, and with one instinctive full-
length thrust I dived into her as deeply as I could.
Starting deep inside my loins a bubble grew, forming a
rapidly expanding ball, hard and unstoppable. A tightness
at first, it grew and rose until it threatened to fill me
entirely. Then, at the point of ripping me apart, it
rushed into the tip of my firmness and exploded out. With
it went all my senses. For all that it felt like, there
can't actually have been much come, I only felt two
really strong spasms: the first blast, a second
pulse and a couple of weaker aftershocks. But as little
as there was, it went into her right where nature
intended. Foolishly, I felt I was a man at last.
When she finally came down she held on to me
tightly, her legs around me locking me to her once more
as I softened within her. When eventually released me I
rolled off her. By the time I snuggled up to her again
she was strangely still and silent. She was asleep, and
within minutes we all were.
She never told me her full story of that night - of
why she did it, why she let me break down every barrier
that her hand had put up. When I expressed my anxiety
that she might be pregnant by me she did tell me that her
period had started on time a week later, and that she was
on the pill in any case. She also told me that maybe she
had wondered if the rumours of our homosexuality were
true. Now she knew they were not, and that despite that,
we did indeed do everything together. It turned out that
by `being unfaithful' she meant letting someone else come
inside her, and that her then limited medical training
had not prepared her for the clumsy, urgent and
unstoppable determination of my first-time. She did
marry of course, but not her one-time fiance, nor me or
even my roommate. I suspect that in the days that
followed they did make love too, but alone and without
me, at least I think they probably did. He, for his part,
didn't marry his girlfriend either. For all of us those
now distant university relationships are long gone; a
part, though an important one of course, of our growing
up. I still wonder about that night. It is her that I
normally think of as I pleasure myself, generally on
fantasises of tasting her glorious juices, which I now
know I should have done instead of penetrating her but
being young I didn't think of it at the time, and even
now wish I had. I still, some twenty years later, have a
strong feeling of unfinished business. I wonder if, one
day, we'll meet again.
<1st attachment end>
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