By the time I was eighteen I had matured into a very attractive young lady. In short, I was hot and I had a sexual imagination to match. I tried boys. They didn’t do anything for me. There was something about boys that always kind of repulsed me. Their body hair, their odors, their aggressive demeanor disgusted me. I gave them a fair chance but I just could not find the interest for them that I had for the tender flesh and gentle manners of other girls.
I had several relationships with girls in my class and a small network of housewives who passed around my number. “All the Young Girls Love Alice” as the song goes. The girls and I fell in to it all very naturally. With all the confusion and awkwardness that comes in the teen years we couldn’t really blame ourselves. They felt safe with me; I never gossiped and, after all, I was the head cheerleader and one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school, who would believe I was a lezzy. As far as they were concerned it was just experimental fun between two straight girls (“Hey, let’s try something. I won’t tell.”). I guess it was a chance for them to do all the things they wanted to do with boys but without the fear of ruining their reputations. It was mostly necking and petting, a little pussy licking and finger fucking with the braver girls. I had some real cuties, too. Nobody ever suspected a thing, either, but it gave me such a rush to carry my secret (if they only knew!)
The ladies were a little different. They knew they were doing something wrong and that society wouldn’t look the other way, yet they couldn’t help themselves. I found I had a knack for sensing their interest in me and I had a real talent for seduction. They always thought they were corrupting an irresistible innocent. Some of them even thought they were in control. There was the neighbor lady (“Would you like me to rub some suntan lotion on your back, Mrs. B.?”), my mother’s best friend (“No, I’ve never been kissed. What’s it like?”), and several others (“Sandy gave you my number? ... Yes, I guess you could pick me up after school.”). Our times together ranged from a tumble and grind on the living room floor or heavy necking and petting in the back seat surrounded by groceries to detailed lessons in the subtle nuances of cunnilingus after a luxurious bubble bath.
It was in my senior year that I was mostly seeing a sweet, pixie-ish, little gymnastics jockette, my Laurie-lovey. She had a tight, compact body that was just adorable and a tongue I could not believe. I was a cheerleader on the basketball squad then and she liked to sit in the front row and watch me jump around. She would get all turned on watching my butt jiggle under my short skirt. Afterwards, she would take me to her house where her parents didn’t pay any attention to her comings and goings. I remember the soft music she put on to cover our sounds and the sparse streetlight from the window as we immersed ourselves in each other for hours, like a coma of lust.
It was one typical such night we were coming home from a basketball game and we had a big weekend planned. My folks were out of town and we had the whole house to ourselves. I was really worked up for the hot, carefree, no-holds-barred lovemaking that we had anticipated for two weeks. For some reason she had decided to play hard to get all of a sudden. She was petulant, distant and argumentative all evening. It of course led to a big fight with her dropping me at home and tearing off.
I was so frustrated, to be so horny and then deprived at the last minute. I paced around the house for a while and wrote her an angry letter that I never intended to send. I needed to calm down so I drew a hot bath. It calmed me down but I was still too horny to sleep. I decided to masturbate away my frustrations. I took a couple of big throw pillows up to my room and made a place to recline against in the corner. I sat back against the cushions, spread my knees wide, and set to work on my gig with my slow, relaxing, two-handed attack, so I could pretend I was being treated to the supplicant devotions of a doting lover.
I was climbing up to a nice pre-orgasmic glow when Max, my short, lean bulldog trotted in to the room. I let Max assist me on many a masturbation session and, when he felt like it, join in for a rub-off of his own but that night I really didn’t want the company. He walked right up between my legs to investigate what I was up to.
Usually I laid face down to grind against a pillow and if Max wanted to participate he would lick my puss from behind and mount me to fuck his slippery, red dick against my butt until he got off. Sometimes I liked to jerk him off. I would reach under him and stoke his penis through his sheath to get him motivated into humping. He would hump against my hands, his dick would come out all the way past his knot, and he would swell up and then start squirting his cum. I liked to play with his cock and stroke it, just watching in amazement while he came in my hands. On many occasions I had reclined like I was then and tried to get Max to fuck me. I would let him lick me for a while, as he was always perfectly happy to do, and then pull him up on to me against my crotch. Once I got him to start humping while holding him on my lap. I had his front paws on my hips and his hood poised over my cunt. His dick emerged but I couldn’t get him aimed in to my cunny and he quickly lost interest. He just never got the idea of humping me unless I was on my stomach.
The last thing I wanted that night was more frustration so trying anything with Max was remote from my mind. Nonetheless, he saw the game and wanted to play. He stepped right up and started licking at my moist, pouting pussy around my busy fingers. There would be no stopping him short of carrying him out of the room and closing the door. Too much trouble. I was close to the edge so I just let him take over.
He dug his face in and pushed his deft, delightful tongue as deep as he could into me to get at the juices he sought. I laid back, closed my eyes, licked my fingers, and waited for my deliverance. Max started to press forward with his body, crowding up toward my crotch as he lapped at my spread lips. Having shared many a session with Max when he would climb up on my butt for a dry-hump (or rather, wet-hump) in my ass cleavage, I knew this move was a precursor to mounting me. Could it be after all my coaching, offering, and poising he was finally going to grasp the idea and attempt entry?
My hopes were cresting higher than ever as I twiddled my clit even faster. Then with all sureness and determination that he knew what he was doing, he mounted me. He jumped up and with his front paws; he clutched at my hips and started humping aggressively. He was completely off center and way too high. His hips bucked at my thigh and I could see his firm, pink poker emerging from his sheath and sliding against the inside of my thigh. It came out about two inches, hungrily seeking the embrace of flesh. It burrowed into the softness of my skin as Max stepped over my leg with one foot and struggled for relief against my thigh. He humped for a good thirty or so strokes and his penis emerged all the way past his knot. But it just wasn’t satisfying enough for him. His thrusts were desperate, lacking that blind, animal passion that overcame him when his sensitive organ found some furtive friction. His penis never even began to swell. His dick retracted, he climbed down from my leg and stood in front of my crotch with his hips still thrusting and humping thin air like a reflex he couldn’t stop.
He continued licking my abandoned gig to make up for lost time. It was very promising for me; he had never associated humping me when I was not on my stomach and offering my ass. After a few more laps, he pressed forward again. This time when he mounted me I lifted my thighs to contain his approach and center him on my puss. Lifting my thighs was the magic touch; the rotation of my hips exposed my fuck-hole at just the right height and angle.
He launched into his humping immediately and to the astonishment of both of us he found my vagina on the fifth jab. I gasped and held my breath as he entered me and I focused all my concentration on our contact. I was absolutely astounded. I could not believe what I was experiencing. In all my depraved desires, I never thought it could really happen, but there it was right in front of me. This was it! We were finally actually making it! A real fuck; sexual intercourse; sweet coitus!
At first, I felt that bare, finger-like penis imbedded intractably in the mouth of my cunny and I knew we were set. Once he struck pay dirt, nature took over with all his effort bent resolutely to the task of mating. His chest and his chin pressed down hard against my stomach and his paws clamped around my waist. With a firm grip he pulled his hind legs tight against my butt to complete his embrace. His hips went into an all out, spastic torrent; so urgent was his intent of meshing his genitals into mine.
I could not tell if his penis pushed itself out from his sheath or if incidental contact with my vulva pushed back his sheath, inside me I could feel his emerging penis’ presence full six inches deep. He was in full attack with his typical, fit-like humping and his hips slamming back and fourth against my crotch about two inches, sending his penile intrusion in a comparable travel deep in my no-man’s land. His grip was so tight and his humping so aggressive that his feet came off the floor to scratch and dig at my ass.
.... There is more of this story ...