Diary of a Loose Girl
Chapter 11: Jamar and Elise, or Freedom at Nineteen

Copyright© 2015 by Chase Shivers

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 11: Jamar and Elise, or Freedom at Nineteen - Diary of a Loose Girl follows a woman named Carrie. From her earliest sexual experiences through her adult life, her first time, her kinks, the men and women she fucked and loved, she recorded it all in her Diary. Follow Carrie's retelling of those personal notes as she details what she tried and liked, what she tried and hated, the people she loved and lost, and what turns her on beyond imagination. Note - This story is open-ended with 28 chapters so far.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Consensual   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   School   Tear Jerker   Interracial   Black Male   White Male   White Female   Oriental Female   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Sex Toys   Teacher/Student  

Chapter Cast:

Carrie Minberg, Female, 19
- Narrator, freshman at Bitterwood
- Beige, freckled skin, 5'6, 145lbs, curly back-length dark-red or blue hair
Jamar, Male, 19
- Freshman at Bitterwood, Nicaraguan
- Dark brown skin, 5'11, 195lbs, ear-length shaggy black hair
Elise, Female, 19
- Freshman at Bitterwood, Norwegian
- Pale golden skin, 5'10, 155lbs, shoulder-length light blonde hair
Tim, Male, 18
- Freshman at Bitterwood, South African
- Dark/medium brown skin, 5'5, 155lbs, short curly black hair.

I was picked up in London for a three-day orientation course before taking a ship on the short trip across the English Channel. I was a bit nervous, but excited. I felt so alive, traveling on my own for the first time. The days passed too fast in London, but it made me appreciate the opportunity ahead of me.

I made friends quickly with several people, comparing notes on our high school classes and our romances. Conversations came easily, even about sex, and I found myself fitting in well with a wide range of my classmates. There were girls and boys from all over the world. Tim was South African, Jamar from Nicaragua, Elise from Norway, and Sia (she pronounced it 'Shay') was Vietnamese. Others were from Liberia, Australia, Ireland, Canada, Russia. From India and Israel, many others, and a healthy number of Americans and Brits were there, as well. Everyone spoke very good English, a requirement for admittance.

We were forty-seven eighteen and nineteen-year olds in all. We were excited, we were nervous, and we were horny.

I flirted with so many boys that I felt a bit drunk with the joy of it. A few girls, too, and by the time we made it to Amsterdam, I really felt the urge to get fucked.

We were only on our second day of classes when I had an opportunity and took it.

Jamar was dark-skinned, Spanish and Native American blood. His smile was measured, but he was a nice guy, usually walked around with his button-up shirt hanging open, showing everyone his slight pudge and thick, curly chest hairs. I looked, a lot, thought he looked attractive, and the way he smiled at me and greeted me whenever we ran into each other told me there was interest there.

I was right. Four of us had snuck out of the coed dorm and went down to a small stream that ran beyond the top of the low rise we called 'The Hill' behind the school. Elise had brought out a joint and lit it. I'd never smoked before, cigarettes or pot, but I wasn't about to turn it down.

We sat around, getting high, and it wasn't long before stoned teenagers started to get amorous. I leaned into Jamar while Elise laughed and ran her hand on Tim's leg. The black South African was grinning, Elise's hand quickly releasing his cock. I'd never really watched anything like that before, and it turned me on to watch the thin blonde take him inside her mouth, giggling as she sucked.

I didn't wait for Jamar to start things. I pushed him onto his back and straddled his body, laughing as his hands moved over my tits. I pulled off my shirt quickly, unhooked my bra, let his fingers explore my flesh as I rocked over his body. I could feel his cock pressing through his shorts, and I reached under to unzip him.

I heard Tim moan, watched as he ejaculated in Elise's mouth, the cum running out, over her lips, and down onto her white hand and his dark balls. I pulled back and slid down, took Jamar's cock in my hands. Yes, hands with an 's.' He was huge, at least his thickness was. His penis was probably only five inches long, but around, I'd never handled one so thick.

I worked him a moment, trying to decide how to suck him. I attempted to take him between my lips and nearly gagged. I pulled back and licked his flesh, stalling for time while I got the nerve to try again. The next time wasn't any more successful, and I dropped my tongue onto his balls. He leaned up, smiled, said, "s'ok. You can just stroke it if it doesn't fit."

A partner or three had had this problem before, and I felt relief that he offered the solution to my dilemma. I spit in my fist and pushed it up and down, holding only about half his girth in my fingers.

I couldn't fit him in my mouth, but I wasn't giving up so fast on getting him into my pussy.

I pulled out a condom, asked, "want to fuck me?"

"Want to try."

I was determined to get him inside me. I rolled the condom over him and stroked him a bit more before climbing over his throbbing cock and pushing down so that it nestled in my vagina.

Even there, even with just the tip of his penis in my opening, he felt huge. I moved around a lot, using my slick labia to coat the condom, every minute trying to sink down another quarter of an inch, to take him inside me that much deeper.

Unfortunately, that night, I never got a chance to do much more. Jamar groaned as he released his seed into the condom. I was barely touching him with my genitals, just a half-inch, maybe a bit more of his penis inside me.

I felt his cock stretch me as he came, could feel him filling the receptacle tip inside my vagina. I kinda like that feeling, really, a more intimate way to feel a man cum in a condom than pounding inside me.

Jamar was sweating and smiling at me, a very satisfied look on his face. I curled into him and thought to settle into a cuddle, but Jamar was a man who didn't want to leave me that way. Elise and Tim had left at some point, and we were alone when his face sank between my legs. I could tell he enjoyed himself, he moaned constantly as he licked my pussy. I came on his face twice, both times barely resisting the urge to squirt or pee.

Both times, he'd worked two fingers into my hole, found my G-spot, and threatened to unlease a flood from my bladder or somewhere more mysterious. But I climaxed without showering him, and he ate my raw puss like a very hungry man.

We cuddled a while after, me a very satisfied young woman despite not having gotten Jamar inside me.


I had sex with him a few more times over the next couple of weeks. I never did manage to get him inside my mouth, but I got a few inches inside my puss once. Jamar's weakness was cumming too fast when his cock could feel the heat of my vagina. I managed to get about half of his length, maybe a bit more, stretched to my limits around him, had just started to ride him to my own orgasm when he filled his condom and grew quickly soft.

Jamar was a good lay. I never had an experience with him where I didn't cum. But he was just that, a lay. I felt completely free of the need to have a relationship that went beyond the sex. We were friends, sure, but not a couple, and not exclusive. I knew Jamar had let the short, big-butt Egyptian girl Khepri suck him. He even told me after it happened. Didn't ask permission, didn't apologize or ask if I was mad.

It wasn't like that there. Of course, couples did form and relationships were established, but in the early days at Bitterwood, there was a bit of a preseason, practice matches, young people learning about themselves and what made them feel good. We were among the brightest people on Earth, so we'd been told, and we wanted to fuck like the gods.

Jamar and I largely stopped having sex when he found that the heavy British teen Jonna wanted him one night, and he found she could take him inside her quickly and give him a bit of a ride before he shot his load. I was actually happy for him. I'd tried so hard to fuck him, to let him fuck me, but no matter what position we tried, I never got more than a couple inches slowly squeezed in before he came.

That lack of success with Jamar probably led me to try some things later in life to make up for it. But at Bitterwood, my freshman first semester, I let Jamar go from my sex life and looked for someone else.

Classes were a lot of fun. Amsterdam was beautiful and we frequently walked or rode bikes around the city to have lectures and discussions. I saw beautiful, pale people with thousands of hair colors, natural and otherwise. I dyed mine blue again and had half the other girls picking oranges and pinks and rich browns for theirs.

Elise and Tim were almost a couple but he wasn't looking for that and though they still fucked occasionally, it was nothing more than that.

Elise was beautiful. A tall, blonde Norse, thin, strong chin, thin, strong nose. Her hair fell around her shoulders and blew freely in the city breeze. I was attracted to her immediately, as I was with many of the other students. She was so different than Camila and Kona, looked so unlike anyone I'd been with except for possibly Rhodes and his golden locks.

She and I spent an evening in a coffeehouse where we picked over a menu board of marijuana before selecting one and settling down to toke it through a water pipe. Thick smoke hung in the air as we coughed and became good friends over jokes and our sex lives.

Elise was very open about her sexuality, told me some of her experiences, and she was very much bisexual. "I love girls, too. Just because I only mentioned the guys I fucked, don't get me wrong. I've just had ... fewer. One, really."

"Who was she?" My sexual curiosity for the lives of others was strong even at nineteen.

"Girl I met last year. I ski competitively, and she was one of my competitors on a downhill. I'd never met her, didn't know her much until after the race. She finished second, and I was fourth. We drank wine with some of the others and she kept touching my hand ... eventually she kissed me and I let her. It was a fun night, but it was over the next day as I went back to Norway and she was off home to Russia."

"Hot, how exciting!"

"What about you, Journalist?" They'd given me that nickname when I disclosed over a bottle of very bitter vodka that I had kept a journal since I was five. Everyone wanted to read it, and I forbid it to them all. I hope no one ever did read it, but if anyone did, it was never mentioned. 'Journalist' was a nickname I loved, though those were the first days I started to believe 'Loose Girl' might fit me, too. I wasn't ready to go that far, then, the sting not yet far away, but I'd been having casual and relationship sex for several years, and the first weeks at Bitterwood opened me to many new and arousing potential partners.

 
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