Antonio
Chapter 1: Sylvia

Copyriught Uther Pendragon 2009

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Sylvia - When you've just been someone's first sex partner, an obvious response is to tell them about your own first time.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   mt/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual  

“You know,” said Sylvia, “when you invited me here to eat take-out, I pictured pizza.”

“Well, you’ve had me as a guest in your apartment; I thought I should reciprocate. Did you like the pancit?” Greg gestured for her to stay seated as he rose to clear.

“Delicious. I’d never had it before. The chicken was great, too.” She raised her voice a little to carry into the kitchen. It wasn’t really necessary.

“Add Filipino to your list of possible restaurant types. Now, this isn’t ethnically pure; but would you like a little Sauterne to polish off your meal?” He was carrying the bottle and two glasses from his last trip into the kitchen

“Half a glass.”

“Half a glass it is. I know you’re into moderation.” He poured her half glass and a little more than that into his. He remained standing.

“That tastes good. Aren’t you going to have some?” She looked at him, and saw that he was standing with his arms open.

“Soon. Stand up.” She did. The kiss was sweet. He didn’t press firmly or demand anything. He continued, “Your mouth is warm. It tastes of wine, and spice, and you.”

“Did you plan to get me drunk to kiss me? You didn’t need to.” She was holding him around the waist as loosely as he was holding her.

He bent down to give her another kiss. “No. I planned to kiss you to get me drunk. It’s starting to work.”

Sylvia could feel the beginning of an erection against her hip. Some boys she had gone with would have pressed it into her groin to make sure she’d notice it. Others, especially earlier, would have been so embarrassed that they would try to hide it. Greg let it stay there. One of the advantages of dating an older man, one of the advantages, for that matter, of being an adult college graduate herself, was that he treated his desire with maturity.

Greg kissed her once more, and then stepped away. He carried the wine glasses over to the coffee table in front of the sofa. He’d prepared the entire apartment for this date. The light focused on the dining table was bright. It cast enough light on the sofa and coffee table so that he wasn’t inviting her into a dark nook. Even so, it wasn’t enough to read by.

She took the suggested seat. He punched a button on the entertainment center on his way to pick up the rest of the clutter on the dining table. Quiet music filled the room. It was a piano piece, maybe Chopin. She asked when he settled beside her.

“This piece, yes. I’ve made a selection: classical, but nothing that demands attention.” He sipped from his glass before kissing her again. This time, she tasted the wine on his tongue.

Greg liked Sylvia as a person. He wanted the relationship to go further, but he wanted a relationship. He was quite certain that grabbing her would end the relationship. He was equally certain that she expected him to take the lead. He took her face in both hands, and worked at the kiss. Her tongue met his. When he moved them apart, she was breathing heavily. He caught his own breath while staring into her eyes. She looked down. He let go of her face and leaned back on the sofa with his arm behind her.

When she settled back against that arm, he hugged her. He kissed her temple and then her ear. She turned so that the kisses were mouth-to-mouth. He hugged her with his right arm and gently held her face with his left hand. As the kiss continued, he stroked down her face and neck until the hand reached her clothed breast. He held it, supported it. Finally, he dropped his hand and broke the kiss by leaning away from her.

“Take another sip of your wine,” he suggested.

Sylvia was puzzled. He couldn’t really be trying to get her drunk. She had a good idea of her capacity, and half a glass of whiskey -- much less wine -- would be insufficient. The kiss and the petting had been pleasant; why should she stop to sip wine. Her previous experience was with men (boys really) who would have been trying to get her top off by now. Boys she’d liked less than Greg had succeeded. But Greg having offered her the wine, she took a sip. When she set the wine glass down, he turned her face towards him for another kiss. His tongue touched hers again.

“Quite the most intoxicating way to drink wine,” Greg said. “The taste is there, if the quantity is low; and the kisses provide the intoxication.”

Chopin came to a climax; a Brahms string piece followed. Greg kissed her again, pulling her into the kiss. When she seemed involved, his hand went to the buttons on the back of her blouse. She made no objection. He’d expected none. The problems he expected wouldn’t be above the waist. When the blouse was fully unbuttoned, he rested his hand on her back while leaning back from the kiss. He held out her wine glass again.

“Share another sip?” he asked. She took the glass and sipped. When she’d put the glass back on the coffee table, he pulled her into another kiss. This was more insistent. She bent back a little while his tongue explored her mouth. At that point, he unsnapped her bra. He let her settle back. He held her loosely by the shoulder while he kissed her brow and the side of her face.

Sylvia enjoyed these kisses, even if they weren’t as exciting as the earlier ones. She’d had a blazing romance her junior year, a romance which had stopped just short of intercourse. And, she sometimes admitted to herself, it would not have stopped short if Aaron hadn’t graduated. But Aaron had never made her feel so cherished as Greg sometimes did. The kisses were signs of being cherished, and the hand brushing up under her blouse to hold her breast was as exciting to her as it probably was to Greg.

Greg kissed Sylvia again as he fondled her. Lovely girl, dear girl, she was responding to him. When his thumb brushed her nipple, it was already erect. He dropped both hands to her hips and lifted her onto his lap. Now, his kisses went from her ear to her neck and back. His hands cradled her breasts with one finger occasionally straying across a nipple.

Greg’s sudden display of strength surprised and impressed her. When the motion didn’t threaten her in any way, she relaxed into a new level of arousal. The kisses were gentle gifts to her excitement, not something he was taking from her. Even when he brushed the blouse and bra straps off her shoulders, she was being freed, not being stripped.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered, “lovely woman.” When her head turned towards him, he kissed her temple near the corner of her eye.

He half raised her again. When he let her down, she was seated almost sideways on his lap. He returned his mouth to hers as the fingers of his left hand began to stroke her breast gently, always toward the nipple.

Sylvia felt aroused in general, but the nipple of her left breast felt engorged. It was as if his fingers were sweeping the emotions along her breast to its end. She was afraid of her feelings. She almost decided to do something to slow the evening down. Yet she felt disappointed when he leaned back with only his lap and the arm around her shoulder holding her.

“My turn,” Greg said. He reached for his glass and poured a healthy swig into his mouth. He raised her with his arm while ducking his head until his mouth covered the tip of her breast. He let the wine in his mouth surge forward to soak her nipple and areola. He sucked twice before swallowing. Then he licked the nipple before withdrawing his mouth. With his hand on her knee, he went back to kissing her mouth.

The wine had an astringent effect on Sylvia’s nipple. She felt as though all the arousal that his stroking fingers had stored in the nipple ran down into her belly. She could barely taste the wine in his mouth, but his searching tongue aroused in a different way. By the time she felt his hand sliding up her thigh, it was more exciting than threatening.

Greg caressed up her thigh until his fingers could pass under her clothed labia. Some moisture had seeped through panties and pantyhose. He rubbed that dampness as lightly as his fingers could manage. Meanwhile, he kissed a trail from the corner of her mouth to her ear before returning to lick her nipple again.

Greg wanted to get out of the living room. That afternoon, before showering and changing his clothes, he’d prepared the bedroom.

He’d changed the sheets and folded the top sheet into a narrow pad at the very foot of the bed. He’d secreted several contraceptives under the edges of the mattress on either side. He’d left the light off, but the bathroom light on with the door half closed. The door from the bedroom into the living room, he left barely ajar. He was ready; the room was ready; now to get Sylvia ready.

Sylvia felt more aroused than she had ever felt this fully clothed. Had she been alone, she would have ripped off her skirt and underclothes and brought herself some relief. But she wasn’t alone. All this arousal was coming from him. She tried to keep still, but she couldn’t keep herself from wriggling slightly under his caresses.

When Sylvia started writhing in his arms, Greg’s patience snapped. He put his left arm under her legs and straightened on the couch. He pulled his legs under him and pushed himself up. For one horrible second, he was unbalanced. Then he straightened with Sylvia in his arms. He’d been aroused for some time, and was careful to hold her so that she didn’t press against his erection. He walked to the bedroom and used a foot to shove the door open. He carried her through. When he set her on the bed, he knelt beside it. He kissed her mouth once, and then returned to licking and sucking her breast.

Sylvia knew she should say something when he picked her up, but she was too busy holding on. Besides, what she really wanted was for his hand to resume stroking her. Soon it did, and his mouth returned to her breast. The bed, although frightening, was also more comfortable. She could move as much as she wanted to without pressing against his hard arm.

Greg thought that Sylvia was ahead of him in terms of clothes. He used his mouth and left hand to keep her aroused, while his right hand unbuttoned his shirt. He stroked his left hand down to her knee, abandoned her to release two cuffs and toss the shirt behind him. He took another two minutes stroking her thigh through the pantyhose and playing with her ear with his right hand before he stopped to tear off his t-shirt. The loafers didn’t need any hands at all. When he bent over her to kiss the breast he had been neglecting, he felt the wet nipple of the other breast against his skin.

Sylvia felt aroused, but confused. She was staring up at a ceiling dimly lit from two other rooms. She felt bare skin pressing into her bare skin. Wasn’t that awfully far along? Yet the kisses were welcome, the feelings in her crotch were delightful. It seemed weird to accept these and question mere touching. Then he was kissing her mouth again. Then he was whispering to her.

“Sylvia, beautiful Sylvia, delightful Sylvia, raise your hips a little.”

When she did, Greg drew her skirt down and off. As it was passing over her feet, he grabbed her shoes, as well. He turned to lay the skirt across a chair, and put the shoes safely under it. He could treat his own clothes as cavalierly as he wished; messing up her clothes might poison her entire memory of the evening. He returned to her mouth. After a moment, he stroked her leg upward from the knee.

When he reached her mound, he pressed that and relieved the pressure rhythmically. He wasn’t being rough, but he used more pressure than he had on her labia, more -- even -- than he had on her leg. He went back to sucking her nipple, and let his fingers stray down to her labia.

Sylvia felt her nakedness more now that the skirt was gone. It certainly hadn’t hampered his hand, but she felt more exposed. That exposure, however, added to her arousal. And the kisses were still sweet. Indeed, she wished that he would be more direct on her clit.

Greg was burning with desire, but he had only one hand for his own clothes. He got his right sock off easily; the left one defeated him in this position. He loosened the belt and dropped his trousers down to knee level. He raised himself to kiss her mouth, using the opportunity to get his right leg out of the trousers. He stood up again with both hands on the edge of her pantyhose.

“Darling Sylvia, raise your hips again.” He started to draw down the pantyhose, but the panties rode down. He grabbed them, as well. When he turned back from dumping her underwear on top of her skirt, he saw Sylvia in all her nakedness. The hair on her mound was beginning to rise from the compression of her panties. Lovely ringlets. Her thighs were white, smooth as silk, calling his hand. They were parted enough that he could see a tiny red line glistening between her labia. His cock jumped when he saw that, breaking out through the fly of his boxers. He knelt back immediately.

Sylvia found her full nakedness as arousing as it was frightening. Nobody since Aaron had seen all of her. She closed her eyes as the panties left her hips, but the air on her skin told her that she was bare. Like this, she couldn’t know what Greg would do. She opened her eyes to see his face just before he kissed her again. She was bare to his hand, but only felt his mouth.

Greg peeled the trousers and sock off his left leg. Then he stroked his left hand from her knee to her mound. His finger stroked the moistness. When she shuddered, he thought, “She’s ready, but I’m overdressed.” The boxers proved too much for his lone right hand. He searched under the mattress for the condom. With it in his right palm, he managed to extricate himself from the boxers. Then he rolled on the contraceptive. He applied a little of the extra jelly to her slit. Then he stroked upward to the clitoris itself.

Sylvia felt something chilly-but-smooth against her lips. They were being stroked again. It felt heavenly. Then, it felt better. He got the spot, and he got the rhythm right, too. She began to drift towards her climax.

When Greg saw her accept his strokes, he rose again. He continued stroking as he climbed onto the bed and between her knees. With his right hand on her breast, and his left spreading her labia, he stopped just outside the sweet entry. He looked into her closed eyes and spoke.

“Sylvia, darling Sylvia, look at me. Say ‘yes,’ sweetheart. Say ‘yes.’”

Sylvia opened her eyes to see him staring into her eyes. She felt him between her thighs. “Yes,” she said. She had no real choice. She felt his fingers spread her lips, then something cooler and smoother enter her. Where nothing but Tampax had gone before, it spread her and filled her in the way no Tampax could. The sensations were exciting, and so was the idea. He was filling her, possessing her.

Greg felt the tightness of her entryway against the head of his phallus. He pressed forward slowly. It spread around him, gripping him tightly but offering no resistance. “Between tampons and gymnastics, girls don’t keep hymens very long,” he thought. He was sure that he was deflowering a virgin, however little resistance he felt inside her. The idea was even more exciting than the smooth grip she provided along his entire phallus. When he felt his groin press against hers, he reached back his left hand to raise her knee higher against his hip. Placing his left hand on her breast and his left elbow beside her to support his weight, he reached back with his right hand to lift that knee. He felt himself sinking microscopically deeper into her.

“Lovely woman,” he said. Must remember not to call her a girl. In a decade, she’d be glad to be called a girl. Now, she was newly a woman. “So sweet.” He bent down and kissed her lips. “So soft.” He moved both thumbs, not enough to rub against her nipples, just enough to move them. “So warm. Lovely woman.” He began to move within her, the sensation from the slippery clasp around his phallus almost driving him to speed up too soon.

Sylvia heard his compliments, felt his hands on her breasts, then felt his motions deep within her. The motions created a new sort of arousal. His motions were so slow that she started moving to increase the sensations. If many of the sensations were new, she also felt the tension which presaged her approaching climax. She raised her hands to grip his arms.

Greg was beyond words, now. He tried to keep himself moving slowly through her tight, warm, slick tunnel. When he was fully inside, he moved from side to side to rub the base of his phallus against the top of her vagina. He hoped to stimulate her clitoris that way. As she gripped his arms and moved under him, he felt himself losing control. But only when she clasped around his phallus rhythmically did he let go. He drove into and out of her in increasing speed.

Sylvia was luxuriating in the sensations coming from the piston moving deep within her when her climax -- which she had felt approaching for some time -- surprised her with its arrival. She clutched her hands on his arms as she clutched him deeply within her. She arched into his driving thrust and writhed as he moved back. She heard herself moan.

“Oh, darling,” Greg said. “Oh sweet.” He drove in and out of her clutching warmth. Then he thrust himself against her and felt his whole being poured deep into her. He held himself rigid above her for another second, then collapsed onto her soft body.

Sylvia held him while she heard his gasps near her ear. Some time later, she realized that she was gasping as well.

“Am I too heavy?” Greg asked.

“I think so.”

He pulled out, reaching between them to hold the rubber around his shrinking penis. When he had fallen onto his side, he hugged her with his right hand on her far shoulder. He kissed her near shoulder every once in a while.

Sylvia felt comforted by the hug, romantically pleased by the occasional kisses and the contact of so much skin with skin. Then she felt exposed to be lying naked on top of the bed.

“I shall return,” Greg said, “with wine.” He rolled off the bed and went immediately into the bathroom. He wrapped the condom in toilet paper and buried it in the waste basket. He used the facilities, washed his cock before his hands, and left the light on but the door nearly closed. They didn’t need much light in the bedroom, but Sylvia would probably welcome knowing where the bathroom was sometime soon.

When he passed through the bedroom, he saw that she had pulled the sheet up over her.

As soon as Greg left the bed, Sylvia felt extremely exposed. She was terribly embarrassed by her nakedness, a little embarrassed by his. When the bathroom door closed, she moved down to the bottom of the bed where her feet had felt some folds. She brought the top sheet up to cover her to the neck. She lay there wondering if she should get dressed. The idea of his watching her dress, somehow greater exposure than seeing her naked, prevented her. She hid under the sheet, feeling it against her skin instead of the nightie she wore in her own bed. The past hour, which had been pleasurably exciting while it happened, started to seem dreadful.

She had loved Aaron. She had reminded herself for more than a year that she shouldn’t give any boy she didn’t love what she had refused Aaron whom she had. Now, Greg had taken that. She shouldn’t lie to herself. She had given that to Greg; she had said ‘yes.’

When Greg passed through the room into the living room, she saw his nakedness with his cock waving at his groin. She felt herself blush. She had handled Aaron’s cock, but never seen it across the room. She shouldn’t blush about that sight after what she had done. And she hadn’t known what to do. She had been an inexperienced virgin, certain that when she had experience, she’d know all about it. Now, she had the experience, and she still knew nothing about it. He probably felt that she was a dry stick. He was treating her casually enough. And what if she got pregnant?

Greg turned off the music and light in the living room. He came back carrying the bottle in his left hand, and the glasses in his right.

She still had the sheet up to her neck. He set everything down on the night stand on her side.

“Should have been champagne,” he said. “Can’t drink lying like that. Would you be more comfortable wearing this?” He picked his own shirt off the floor and draped it over the sheet. She would probably be more comfortable with him in the boxers, too. He turned his back to pick them off the top of the stack and put them on slowly.

As soon as he had turned, Sylvia grabbed the shirt and put it on. For some reason, the buttons gave her great trouble, but she was decent, and under the covers again when he turned around.

“As I said, it should have been champagne.” He picked up his glass and went around the bed. Setting it down on that night stand, he climbed in. He was careful to keep his distance from her. He sat with his back against the headboard and sipped from his glass. “Drink up. You know I’m not going to take advantage of your inebriation, and this is a night to celebrate. It was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Was I that clumsy?” She was certain she had been, but he didn’t have to announce his disappointment. She had thought him a kind man if a bit devious.

“Clumsy? Oh no. Dear girl, you were delightful. Still are delightful even though my desire is less. That’s because it was sated, not because you are less desirable.” All that about his desire was a great exaggeration, but probably necessary. She didn’t look like she wanted to repeat the activity just now.

“Now, my feelings are grateful memory and a sense of having been honored. You allowed me to share a turning point in your life.”

“Well, I hadn’t really planned this.” Still it sounded better to have honored him than to have been a total klutz.

“No,” Greg thought it would be gauche to say that he had. “And, when you said ‘yes,’ you were a bit hmm -- distracted. But there were times you could have said ‘no.’ You have said ‘no,’ I’ll wager, at similar times in the past. And you didn’t. I feel honored. Sit up. You’re covered. Drink; it doesn’t have to be more than the remains of the half glass if you still want that to be the limit. But this is an event to celebrate.”

She sat up and took the glass. In fact, she was thirsty. He reached his glass over, and she clinked hers against it. She felt better. If she’d gone further than she had intended, at least she hadn’t done so clumsily. And probably she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

“Girls don’t get pregnant the first time do they?”

“Not when they use this.” Greg felt under this side of the mattress. It was easier to find when he was less desperate and maddened by lust. He handed her a wrapped condom. “I used another one of these. The wrapper is somewhere over there on the floor. Sorry. I thought disposing of the used one was a concession to your modesty.”

Actually, it had been. She’d have blushed purple to see it. “A teacher told me that if a girl knew a boy well enough to go to bed with him, she knew him well enough to discuss contraception first.”

“A good rule. Mine is that if the lady in question hasn’t convinced me that she has taken care of the responsibility, then the responsibility is mine.” This night had hardly been a time he was ready to discuss contraception first.

That worry dissipated, convinced that he didn’t express dissatisfaction with her -- if less convinced that he hadn’t been dissatisfied, she relaxed and drained her glass. She poured herself more. He’d said it was a celebration, and treating it as a celebration was better than crying over it.

“The first time for anyone is a major event,” Greg said. “Maybe a bit more major for women, but mine certainly felt major. Top up my glass, and I’ll tell you about it.” He wanted her to sleep beside him this night. Being Friday and her living alone, she could. On the other hand, this was too early for going to sleep. The longer she stayed, the more reasonable spending the night would look to her.

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