Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal

I’ve shared a “sort of” version of this story in my series entitled “Brad and Pete Get It On.” The bare skeleton of that series is the story I’m now telling with this posting, which is a true story. This story actually happened to me. I’m one of the characters in it, though not necessarily the character narrating the story. I’ve altered and embellished only insignificant details for the sake of narrative flow and dramatization.

First there was just Darius and me. I’m Kurt.

Then there was Mindy.

Darius (his mother was a Swiss archaeologist who had a thing for Persian history, thus that impossibly arcane name, which became Dar to anyone who knew him well) and I got put together by the luck of the lottery when roommates were assigned for our university dorm in our freshman year. That was fine. We tended to like the same things. Neither of us was much into socializing. We weren’t big talkers. We liked doing our own thing, and that made us ideal roommates.

Though we had a lot in common and got along well, our backgrounds were very different. I grew up on a ranch in Idaho, big farm family. My parents belonged to one of those off-brand churches that encouraged people to live on the land and have kids galore: “Be fruitful and multiply.” It was, of course, the kind of church with rigid views about right and wrong, though it didn’t encourage members to live separate from the world the way the Amish do. As you’ll see as my story unfolds, my upbringing definitely had a strong effect on me when I became sexually active in college, after waiting until marriage had been drilled into my head from childhood up.

Dar was from a middle-class suburban background, father a therapist, mother that Swiss archaeologist I just mentioned. I grew up with cows and sheep and played football in our rinky-dink little high school. He grew up in the suburbs outside St. Louis with books. He actually wanted to be an honest to god poet, first and only person I’ve ever met with that aspiration.

But like I say, even though we had really different backgrounds, we also had a lot in common and liked living together. So when an opportunity came along to snag an apartment and get out of the hell-hole dorms in our sophomore year, we jumped on it, took the apartment, and moved together off campus. That move resulted in a big step in our roommate experience. In that year, living out of the dorms together with more independence than we’d had in the dorm, we decided without a lot of talk or fanfare that it made perfect sense to give each other a helping hand now and again, since neither of us had a steady girlfriend, and like any healthy college boy, we had needs.

Which we were used to satisfying alone, but when there were two pairs of hands around and hard dicks to be jacked, why not take advantage of all the hands available? Nothing in the world wrong with that: just made sense for two straight college guys living together waiting for the right girl to come along, to help each other out. Bros helping bros. Waiting for sex to come along has never made the hormones just vanish, after all, has it? The needs and urges have a way of continuing no matter how hard we try to pretend they’re not there.

So the helping hands thing just seemed to happen, not a lot of fanfare, no big deal. Instead of taking care of our needs alone, in the privacy of our bedrooms, we started doing so in the sitting room where we could pop a hot porn tape into the video recorder (I’m telling you this story years after it took place in the 1980s) and stroke out in the open, then, before too long, stroke each other. Best buddies giving each other a helping hand when need arose — no big deal. Two horny straight guys living together with urges that needed to be attended to. What could be more natural?

One time and only once, we also sucked each other off, getting into a 69, with neither of us cumming in the other’s mouth. That would have been gay. We were only “experimenting.” On two more occasions and only those two, we also experimented with fucking each other, me fucking Dar the first time, he fucking me the second. As I say, we weren’t gay, just experimenting, and didn’t intend to make a habit of this. If we had done so, it would have made us gay in a way that the bros helping bros thing didn’t.

I honestly never thought much about any of this or what it “meant.” I never dreamed it might end up “meaning” something to Dar — way more than it did to me. So when Mindy came along and she and I started spending time together and one thing led to another with her, I didn’t give a second thought to how any of that might affect Dar.

We weren’t married after all, right? I had no obligations to him.

I did want to keep Dar and Mindy separate, though. Something — I don’t know what it was — told me to do that. They were two halves of my life and each half lived in a separate sphere, and I had no reason to mix them up. Mindy knew Dar and I were roommates, but other than bringing her over once or twice to meet bonus veren siteler Dar so they could have a glass of beer and slice of pizza together and get to know each other a bit, I did what I did with Mindy away from the apartment.

Because Dar had no reason to know what I was doing with Mindy. And for that matter, to be honest, he also had no reason to know why the helping hands phase of our roommate set-up had ended and I’d gone my own way, leaving him with his own capable hands to take care of himself when he needed.

Mind you, the logistics of the sex Mindy and I began having not long after we met and got involved: they weren’t so easy when my apartment was off-limits due to my own choice. They were made more complicated by the fact that she was still living at home with her parents, though she was an adult and had a job as a cashier in a bank.

Let me give you an example of some of the complications we faced when we “got involved.” That phrase again. We talked about “getting involved” because, I suppose, we thought it was a coy and even sexy way to talk in code no one else knew about the fact that we had started exploring each other and then proceeded to full-on fucking. Even though I didn’t buy into my parents’ strict religious worldview and couldn’t wait to get off the ranch and in college, I still had a lot of the hang-ups that came along with my upbringing, and saying Mindy and I were “involved” allowed me to avoid facing the fact that I was having sex with her. Outside the bonds of matrimony, the only legitimate kind of sex in my parents’ world.

So here’s an example of the logistical complications that started after Mindy and I got involved:

The first time I fingered her, got her off, explored her hot pussy, was in the den of her parents’ house, a basement room with a television, sofa, pool table — parents upstairs doing their thing before preparing for bed. Yes, they knew Mindy and I were down in the den — watching t.v. together was the cover story — and they left us alone.

They may also very well have suspected what was really going on down there, but Mindy was an adult and had had boyfriends before, and her life was her life, as long as she didn’t violate the basic rule of most parental abodes in those years: the bedroom’s off-limits for the boyfriend, the girlfriend, until you’re no longer under our roof.

This meant that the sex you were able to snatch in places like the den below the kitchen had a furtive, cautious element to it, but was all the more exciting for that very reason. My hand working away beneath Mindy’s skirt: what if her father happened down the stairs and caught me pulling it out of her panties shining with her juices just as he stepped into the room?

No loud noises, no matter how much pleasure my two fingers stroking in and out of her hot wet hole were giving her, or my thumb on her clit along with the finger-fucking, so that she began to writhe with excitement and lift her ass from the sofa cushions as she prepared to cum. Our “involvement” had to take place with the lights low, with whispers and furtive looks at the door to be sure it didn’t open suddenly.

Not that this ever stopped us. Not at all. After a few evenings of “involvement” that centered on her introducing me to her wet pussy, showing me its parts and how to please it, her panties pulled down and skirt hiked up — I’ll be honest: my experience had pretty much been limited to my hand and Dar’s up to this point, and she was teaching me how to please a woman — we moved on to her fishing my hard cock out of my trousers, jacking it until I shot cum all over her hands, then blowing me until I came in her mouth.

Until Mindy got her hands on it, I had really not ever paid much attention to my cock, as in thinking about how it might be different from any other guy’s dick. I’d seen plenty of other dicks when I played football in high school and we guys all showered together, and was well aware they came in different sizes and shapes. On the ranch in the summertime, my dad and my brothers and I often showered at a fresh-air shower on the side of the barn, since there was only one bathroom in our house for way too many people, and it was convenient for us to clean ourselves up outside after our farm chores before we came into the house for dinner.

And, of course, I looked at the other guys in my family as we showered, not out of curiosity, but because they were just there, naked along with me, and it was impossible not to look. My cock seemed not very different from my dad’s or any of my brothers’ dicks. If our dicks were what others might call big, I really had no awareness of that, since I had no base line for comparison other than fleeting glances at my teammates in the gym showers at school.

So I’d never thought about having a big cock or a little one for that matter. But when Mindy first took it out of my pants the first time she saw it, she definitely had an opinion to offer, an excited one. “It’s so bedava bahis much bigger than all my boyfriends before,” she said, excitement apparent in the tone of her voice. “I can’t wait to see how it’s going to feel in my pussy.”

So of course in no time flat, we went from me fingering her wet hole and her jacking and sucking my hard cock to fucking. That’s what a wet pussy and a hard cock are made for, right? The first time we fucked down in that basement den at her parents’ house was an adventure, both of us trying to keep super-quiet and hide what was going on as I knelt between her legs and she scooted to the end of the sofa and guided my throbbing cock into her hot pussy. I lasted all of two minutes, trying to pull out before shooting inside her, though she had told me she was on the pill and that would be fine. She had told me she wanted me to cum in her pussy, in fact, that it was hot for her to feel a guy’s cock throb and grow larger and harder inside her right before he came, and then to feel the hot cum shooting in her pussy. She was one of those girls, she said, who actually felt the cum shooting, though not all girls do, she told me.

That first time I made a mess. The first shot or two did stream up inside her. I couldn’t help that, it happened so quickly. Then, as I pulled my cock out and kept shooting — a big load, since the feeling of having my cock inside a hot wet pussy for the first time was overwhelming — the cum went everywhere. On her hairy pussy, her stomach, the sofa cushions. I had pulled out, though a little too late, even though I really wanted to be inside her when I came, because I felt some kind of strange residual fundamentalist guilt about fucking a girl I wasn’t married to and thought I might be punished by some divine judge by making her pregnant if I shot inside her even though she had assured me that was okay because she was on the pill.

Well, we laughed about that first-time mess after we had dealt with it and tried to clean up the cum that had gone everywhere, and we continued talking and laughing about it in future sex sessions. Which also took place in my truck, both in its cab, since it had wide, roomy seats that almost seemed designed for a couple to fuck on, and an enclosed bed with a literal bed inside it, as in a mattress, on the floor of the truck bed.

Our wildest fucking sessions in this period of our “involvement” took place in that truck, especially on the mattress in the enclosed back. We could let loose there and moan, gasp, talk dirty, even shout or scream, without fear of anyone hearing us, unless they happened to be passing by and put their ear up to the truck to figure out what was making it rock.

We tried our first 69 on that mattress and found that, though it was hot and I loved having her suck my hard cock while I ate her pussy out, it was distracting for us to be doing and done to at the same time, and 69ing was better to get both of us hot and bothered for more intense lovemaking than for bringing either of us off. With the ceiling light on inside the enclosed truck bed, we also explored each other’s bodies in a way we hadn’t been able to do in her parents’ den even when she gave me lessons on her pussy and how to please it. We spent hours caressing, kissing, licking, sucking, talking about what this part did, how we liked playing with it or having it play with us, how it felt when it was touched or sucked or licked, how we could give each other more intense pleasure. From this first experience of “involvement” with someone else (I continued telling myself what had happened with Dar really didn’t mean anything), I developed a lifelong pattern of wanting to talk with my partners while we had sex, and have them talk back to me. Talking made it hotter by far as Mindy and I explored each other and I learned the ropes of fucking a woman, and it has continued to make it hotter with every partner I have had since Mindy.

We spent hours exploring in that way, with her teaching me what got her more excited than anything else, exactly how to work her mysterious disappearing-appearing clit and get her to have her most powerful orgasms by working it right, knowing when to rub, finger, lick, suck it or when to tease her by ignoring it. She taught me the sex positions that gave her clit most stimulation. She told me that if I worked her clit up to the point of maximum excitement before we fucked, whether she came or not (and if she came, we had to put it off-limits until she cooled down), she could feel and enjoy my cock better. Her hyper-excited clit made the very proximity of my big cock inside her pussy much more stimulating, even when neither of us was working her clit or my cock wasn’t touching it.

We tried every position imaginable to see how it worked for her and worked for me. And we talked as we fucked, in a way we hadn’t been able to do in her parents’ house. We became vocal, expressive lovers because, I suspect, our initial forays into fucking had required us to be so cautious deneme bonus and silent for fear of parental intrusion.

Needless to say, these exploratory learning sessions lasted a long time each time they took place, and we both came numerous times in all of them. There was never just one fuck and then it was over. I fucked her multiple times most times we fucked in the back of that truck, coming repeatedly, if with less force each time. I was just approaching 20 and had that ability to shoot and reload that a young healthy man usually has, and she was delighted to take advantage of it.

We had fun with the exploration we did under the dim overhead light of that warm, cozy truck bed on that well-used mattress that quickly found itself stained with cum and pussy juice. I soon learned that Mindy had a wild imagination and loved to spice up the sex by inventing horny games. We acted out a game she called “science lesson” several times for instance. She told me to use my big pointer to help her instruct an imaginary class on the parts of the body. “Here’s the areola, class; see the pointer tapping it? This is where the milk a mother gives a baby comes from. When the areola is touched right, class, it can also be a source of sexual pleasure for a woman. And when a man touches it with the head of his penis — it’s called the glans, class — it gives him pleasure, too.”

Or: “The pointer is now going to be introduced to the vagina to do an internal inspection. It’s as if the pointer has an eye, class — see the winking little eye on the tip of its glans? — and wants to look inside as far as it can go and see that the vagina is doing well from its opening to its end.”

Though I was more or less a virgin when Mindy and I “got involved,” if you discount my own hand and Dar’s, she had quite a bit of experience, as I have suggested already. She was two years older than I was and had lost her virginity before she graduated from high school.

In these exploratory sessions on the mattress in the back of the truck, Mindy spent hours going over my hard cock and balls millimeter by millimeter, asking me how this touch felt, what her tongue did for me when it teased there. She told me its size gave her pussy a degree of intense pleasure she hadn’t gotten from fucking any previous boyfriend. She was infatuated with it, worshiping it — she actually used that word sometimes — and studying it as she sucked it, got it ready to fuck her, or took it in her hot mouth and brought me off inside her mouth. After she learned what a hair trigger I had due to my excitement and inexperience, she sucked me off almost every time we fucked, as a preliminary to the fucking, to help me last longer and please her pussy more.

She thought it was funny to name the cocks that fucked her, she told me. She’d given a name to the cock of every boyfriend she had had, and had decided for obvious reasons that the name that fit my cock better than any was Mr. Longfellow. So not far down the road after we started fucking in the back of my truck, we began talking about Mr. Longfellow and Ms. Pussy and the fun they had together, what Mr. Longfellow liked to do to Ms. Pussy and how much Ms. Pussy liked Mr. Longfellow doing what he did to her.

By this point, when she decided my cock needed a name, Mindy had also decided she needed to get out of her parents’ house so that we could fuck more freely and comfortably, as often and long as we wanted at her own place. She accepted that I had made a decision not to bring her to my apartment for lovemaking. I had told her that Dar and I liked having the place to ourselves and I had an inkling it might upset a living arrangement that was easy for me if I introduced that new element to our life as roommates. Besides, he didn’t have anyone, and it seemed like it would be flaunting the fact that we were having sex and he wasn’t having it if we carried on in the apartment with Dar there. You just don’t gorge on a rich meal in front of a starving man.

In short, Mindy made it clear to me she wanted to find her own place because our involvement had reached a serious level. She loved sex with me, she said. It was far and away the best she’d ever had. Our “involvement” had come to mean so much to her that she wanted a place where she could enjoy the sex she was having with me to the maximum, and have more of it with no hitches. She had an apartment in mind already, in fact, a sublet from a co-worker at her bank, and in no time flat, she had moved in there.

And so the involvement continued, now at a new level and even hotter and heavier. She could have Mr. Longfellow just about any hour of the day or night she wasn’t working and I wasn’t in class or studying. She took full advantage of that opportunity in her new place.

One Sunday afternoon after we’d fucked all morning long until Ms. Pussy was swollen and red and entirely satisfied and Mr. Longfellow was uncommonly limp and also very pleased with himself, as we lay on her bed in the sunlight, my still distended but no longer hard cock lying on her thigh as she toyed teasingly with its head and I fondled her wet pussy, neither of us really thinking about having another round with each other, but just enjoying the afterplay, Mindy told me she’d thought of a new game:

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir