Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Humor, Harem, Black Female, First, School,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Doug isn't a very nice guy. I mean, you wouldn't much want your sister to date him. He's shallow, lazy, selfish, dishonest with everybody but himself... yet somehow you can't help liking him
I watched her from my big bay front window as she went down the street, the familiar slow burn of desire starting in the pit of my belly. Damn, I love that feeling so much. She was a walking wet-dream, perfectly put together, packaged real neat in tight shorts, skinny tank top, and she was gonna be second floor back for the next nine months, less she wanted to lose her security payment. Don't matter how cute they are, they pay a good deposit up front, contract is for the whole school year. I plain detest wasting my time interviewing fill-in renters because someone's dropped out or decided to go live with their significant goddam other. This one would stay though. Real serious under the sexy frosting: made a point of telling me so, even. Motivated and highly ambitious, she'd said, and getting a good degree was for sure the -most important thing in the world. I'd managed not to laugh, she'd signed the contract like a good girl, given me a check.
She turned the corner at the bottom of the street and all I was left with was the memory of her cute little ass swaying as she strode. Second floor back, I thought pleasedly. She turned out to be a possible, maybe I'd hit the gym a little more, crank up my reading schedule.
Gym? Reading schedule? Huh?
I'm not an ambitious guy. In fact, you were unkind, you'd call me a slacker. If I got a few bucks in my pocket and a little fresh pussy waiting for me somewhere, life's sweet, and I don't bother with much else. People call me lazy, selfish even, and mostly I agree with them. No point arguing with the self-righteous.
So it's a bummer my one talent requires effort. Such a bummer that I don't bother much any more. When I was younger, sure: fact is, I used it way hard to get to where I am. Now I don't want to be anywhere else, so I've stopped all that stressful shit, just try to steer, not to push. Even that's more work than I like. Still, into each life a little rain must fall. I read that somewhere.
Where am I? In the mid-west, dummy, where I've always been. But not where I grew up. Towns of less than three thousand people are plain too restrictive, but a medium-sized college town, large enough for everything, small enough for comfort, is just fine. That's where I am. Set yourself up right, life will come to you soon enough, time you used to spend running round looking for it can be filled up with a little good weed, a little good wine, a little good music, a few good books, stuff like that. Maybe Miss second floor back would want to share some down time with her landlord when we knew each other better. Most of my time is down time, and being laid-back and undemanding pushes buttons for a lot of girls.
I said I wouldn't mind if you called me a slacker. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
And the talent? Look at this way. Suppose you were born with stupendous hand/eye coordination and the potential to bat .800 in the major leagues. You'd be a pretty happy guy, right? And then suppose you discovered that raw ability isn't enough. You want to be up there with Barry Bonds and the rest of them, you have to train and practice, and practice and train, plus eat a lot of shit with the coach screaming at you until you're sick to death of the feel of a bat in your hands. You need to be talented AND ambitious AND dedicated to make it to the Hall of Fame, right? I wonder how many potential Hall of Famers are flipping burgers for a living becausethey're missing the ambition and dedication. But that don't mean you can't have a lot of fun playing softball.
That's my situation. Shit, not playing ball: I got the hand/eye coordination of a starfish, but if I wanna use my personal talent then I have to train and practice, practice and train. It's a mental gift, but for some dam' reason it don't work unless my body's in some kinda shape, and once that's done I need to get the old coconut in good order as well. Top of that I've got to want something real bad. So it takes a lot to get me off my ass, even more to keep me off it.
Hell, I'm not being too clear ... Might as well lay it out in a row. I didn't have a clue about anything till my senior year. Right through High School everything was normal. I mean, I worried about the size of my cock, would I ever be sophisticated enough for Patty Edwards to agree to a date, was that a zit coming: typical stuff, until the day I got ambitious.
Don't ask me why I suddenly got the urge to go to college. I guess Mom and Dad expected me to join the military or herd cows or something similar, so maybe it was a defensive move. Hell, I'd never shown that much aptitude, nor application either. Slacker tendencies, even back then. Looking back, I guess Patty Edwards had a lot to do with it; whatever, I woke up one day with a feeling I ought to get in shape, work on my grades, plan to impress Patty, all at the same time. I recognize that feeling now. It's called motivation, and it's a dangerous tool in the wrong hands.
But once a kid gets the bit between his teeth there's no stopping. Mom and Dad could scarcely believe it. That whole summer before senior year I got up early, jogged down to the 'Y', worked out, jogged back, hit the books till late afternoon, jogged down to the 'Y' ... you get the picture? I didn't exactly gain or lose weight, but what I had kinda redistributed itself, firmed up pretty good too. Shit, I wasn't stopping traffic, but my social life improved a hell of a lot and I was able to stop worrying about size and concentrate on technique. That improved my rep some, and there were other fingerprints on my dick besides my own. Some lipstick as well. Not Patty Edwards' though: she spent summers with relatives at the beach, used to come back around Labor Day looking like about twenty-seven million perfectly tanned dollars.
Word got around that I was turning into your all-American scholar-athlete, and I discovered that thoughtful girls who relish intellectual conversation and deep thoughts leave lipstick traces exactly like cheerleaders do. They just want a more meaningful experience on the way. Fine by me. I can do meaningful real well when I have to.
Wasn't until the start of the school year that I noticed anything different. Hell, I didn't have time for self-analysis. The 'Y' and the books filled my days and my evenings were filled real nice too, and my nights were spent sleeping like a baby and recovering. But as fall approached I began to feel that things were going too well. I mean, there were no hitches at all. Not anywhere. And when Patty Edwards blew back into town what happened made even an eighteen year old ego suspicious.
I can remember it so dam' clearly. Even now the memory stirs me and I have to readjust myself and think cold thoughts, or else deal with the problem manually. Third day back in school and already teachers were congratulating me on the progress I'd made during the summer, Coach had suggested I go out for football, I'd found a cute little note stuffed under the door of my locker, plus my Dad had suffered a brainstorm, bought me a used Plymouth Valiant. Very, very used, but the guts were in good shape and it did the job. Then the totally unexpected happened.
I'd hit the 'Y' after school to put in an hour on the machines. Boring as hell, but I'd got into the habit, discovered that mentally solving algebra and geometry problems while I worked out made the time pass quicker. Seemed like the physical work made the mental stuff settle. Or vice versa. That day though, I was thinking about Patty. The mindless, repetitive exercise had got me into a semi-trance and I was lost inside my head, working out the details of our conversation and how to handle myself. The scene became more and more real. Imaginary Patty was fascinated, wondering why the hell she'd never noticed me before, thinking maybe she better make up for lost time, real pleasing stuff. I had a sharp mental picture of her and it grew more and more solid until there was a kinda soft explosion between my ears and her image shimmered and faded. I came back to earth with a bang and realized that I was dripping wet, my arms and shoulders were hurting like hell and there was a small crowd gathered, looking at me with their mouths hanging open.
'You OK, Doug?' asked Sammy Knopfler. He looked kinda worried.
'Sure, dude. A little winded. I been workin' out, you gotta expect some sweat.'
'Dude, you just pressed a hundred forty pounds eighty-three times without stopping. You gotta expect a little interest.'
'No shit?' I was kinda startled myself at the news. 'I guess I was thinkin' about something else. I better shower before I start to stiffen up.' I eased myself off the bench and wobbled to the locker-room, my head still ringing.
Stiffen up is way too mild a phrase. Next day I could hardly lift my arms and my entire upper body was screaming for a lawyer. I had to ask my mom to drive me to school: it was that bad.
Physics lab was a bummer. My lab partner was missing and my forearms and wrists were so sore that I couldn't handle the delicate equipment at all. But then, when I'd knocked over the micro-balance for the third time and was staring at it in disgust, a voice sounded behind me.
'Need a hand, Doug?' Patty Edwards' voice. Something clicked into place in my head and I turned and grinned ruefully.
'Two would be better. I went a little crazy in the gym yesterday, arms are kinda sore.' What the hell had made me say that? She smiled and nudged me with her hip.
'Move over. I'll do the detailed stuff and you can take notes. Tammy said she got period pains and scammed the nurse into sending her home. We can be partners for today.' My head reeled. Both our lab partners out of the picture and a project that needed two people? I raised my eyes to heaven, muttered a silent 'thank you'. Turned out we worked together pretty good. The class finished and we put the stuff away, grinned at each other. Another click in my head.
'Good team, ' I said. 'Wanna coke or something after school? I guess I oughta thank you and I for sure won't be hittin' the gym today.' She smiled again and there was a pleased look lurking behind the smile. I seemed to be saying the right things. First time ever.
'Sure, and I can copy your notes. I'll need a set if I'm gonna write the stuff up properly.' Good point, I thought. The rest of the day dragged on: I kept walking into walls while I rehearsed sophisticated banter in my head, but what the hell? Four o'clock, we were slurping coke and relaxing.
'Your writing sucks, Doug, ' she said irritably as she put her cup down. 'I can't read a word of these. Are your arms really that bad?' I showed her my wrists, still swollen and inflamed. 'Oh my word, you poor thing, ' she gasped, and went into organizing mode. 'I'll drive you home and then go change, and come by in an hour. You can dictate the notes to me and we can print them right away. You good with that?' I'm excellent with that, I thought happily.
In the car she seemed nervous. She'd had to help me with the seatbelt, and I guess I'd reacted a little obviously to the feeling of her body pressing against mine as she reached for the strap and fastened it. As she drove her eyes kept flicking to my crotch. There was no doubt that I was sporting a chubby. She pulled up outside my house and we caught each other's eye; I managed to smile. Click. I realized I didn't know what I was gonna say till I said it. Weird feeling.
'Sorry, I guess. Would you believe respectful admiration and not crazed lust?' She closed her eyes for a moment and shivered.
'Either, ' she muttered, then flushed and looked surprised at herself. 'Go take a shower, ' she said quickly, 'and then read over those notes. I'll be back in an hour.' She leaned over and her lips grazed my cheek, then she blushed again. looked kinda rattled. I didn't say nothing, just got out of the car and watched as it disappeared down the road. Go take a shower, huh?
So I took one, put myself through a lot of pain by washing all of me twice: I read in a magazine that most girls like clean. I put on a pair of old sweats, commando style, and a T-shirt and was squinting at the notes when she rang the bell.
Good job the sweats were roomy. She was wearing cutoffs and a tube top, a light sweater thrown casually over her shoulders. Her dark hair was damp, and she had her physics books clasped to her chest. I stood back to let her in and caught a whiff of perfume as she stepped past me. She's been to some trouble too, I thought.
'Upstairs, I guess, ' I said. 'Computer's in my room and so are the books.' She was looking round curiously.
'Nice house. You got brothers or sisters?' I shook my head.
'Nope. I got mostly absent parents too. Mom works late and Dad works early and late and in between as well. Farm machinery. We can call for pizza later if you're hungry.' Instinct, or something, told me that respectful admiration was the way to go. 'Business before pizza though, I guess, ' I added quickly, and she smiled.
My memory was sharper in those days, before a slacker's lifestyle blunted the edges, and I could remember the parts of the notes that were plain impossible to read, so it wasn't much more than forty minutes when she hit 'print', leaned back and stretched. The posture forced her breasts up and out against the tube top, looked as if her nipples had their own cute little chubbies too. I felt a twitch under my sweats.
'How come we never talked properly before?' she asked. 'I mean, last year I hardly noticed you, but this year ... wow ... something's different. You stand out a lot more, that's for sure. There's suddenly a lot of girl-talk about you, Doug. You know that?'
'Spent the whole summer right here in this room studyin', or else in the gym, ' I said.
'You been out and about some, ' she said, and grinned. 'Julie Anderson says you can lick your nose.' She sounded doubtful, and a little bit as if she couldn't believe her own audacity.
'Hell, I can do better than that, ' I said smugly. 'Pass me my shades.' She did as I asked and I slipped them onto my face. 'Now watch.'
I'd always thought it was a weird trick, but that summer I'd found out that it had its advantages. I curled my tongue out and up as far as I could and managed to slide the tip under the lens of the aviator-style Raybans. A quick grimace and a kinda flick and the glasses fell off my nose. I caught them as they dropped, wiped the saliva off the lens, licking the tip of my nose as I did that. When I looked up Patty was slightly flushed.
'It's a gift, ' I said. 'Are you OK? You look kinda uncomfortable.'
'Oh my word, ' she murmured, then fanned her face with her hand. 'It's kinda hot in here. You mind if I have some water?'
'Sure, or there's coke and juice in the fridge, ' I said. 'You mind foragin' for yourself? I gotta tendency to drop things at the moment.' Doug, handicapped but polite. No threat.
I watched her butt as it sashayed out of the room and tried to ease myself a little. The sweats were beginning to tent like Mount Hood so I moved off the chair and sat on the couch, aiming for relaxed. When she came back with a tray and a pitcher of juice I was leaning back, legs crossed, projecting cool as hard as I could. She poured and sat down next to me, handing me one of the glasses, and I took it gingerly.
Those arms of yours must make stuff really difficult, ' she said. 'Let me hold the glass.' She reached forward as she spoke and our hands bumped. My aching fingers slipped and a half pint of juice landed in my lap. I yelped and jumped, and the rest of the glass landed on her chest, leaving juice dripping down the slope of her breasts and darkening the material of the tube top and cutoffs. She shrieked and jumped up.
'Oh my word! Doug, I'm so sorry ... oh wow, you're soaked, I'm soaked ... oh my word... ' her voice tailed off and her gaze dropped to my groin. The cold liquid hadn't had any effect and something that was plenty more than a chubby was clearly outlined by the clinging, wet material of my sweats. As she stared, it jerked uncontrollably. The click happened again and I wondered what the hell I was gonna say this time.
'Respectful admiration, Patty, I promise. I'm sure not gonna to jump on you. I better clean up though, change my pants.' I tried to keep my voice light. Her face was crimson, but she didn't stop staring. Her nipples were pushing hard through the wet fabric of her tube top and her thighs were clenched together. She looked like a person making a decision.
'I'll help. Juice is just so sticky, and those sweats oughta go in to soak straight away.' You're quite right, I thought delightedly.
'You're kinda wet too, ' I pointed out. She looked down at herself.
'Oh my word. Where's the bathroom?'
'Behind you. Dad had it put in last year. To stop me interruptin' him and Mom, he said.' Unexpectedly, she giggled.
'Good for him. Umm, Doug, can I say something?' My heart sank.
'Sure.' She bit her lip and looked good enough to eat, then the words came tumbling out in a rush.
'I don't really understand myself, and I don't want you to think that I'm some kinda slut, and I'm kinda nervous, ' she said, 'but I really wanna know if you do crazed lust as good as you do respectful admiration, and I wanna know right now. Julie Anderson says you're excellent and I don't wanna feel all left out, so jumping on me would be fine, please.' I remembered that she'd never really liked Julie and realized this was a girl thing as well as a Doug thing. Hell, right then motives didn't matter squat to me.
'That Julie's got a big mouth, ' I muttered. She giggled again.
'Me too, you'll see.' Her hand flew to her mouth. 'Oh my word. I can't believe I said that.' I was digesting that one when she took a deep breath and pulled at the bottom of the tube top, then wriggled, and it suddenly bunched and flew up over her breasts as she hauled it over her head. Her face reappeared, flushed and expectant. 'Your turn.' She was leaning forward, still staring at the wet patch molding itself round my erect cock. I struggled to my feet, and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the sweats, but my left hand jarred against my hip bone and I grunted involuntarily.
'Oh my word! You better let me. One thing first though.' She took a pace forward and stood very close to me, then put her arms round my neck and pulled me against her half-naked body. I could feel the tips of her nipples drilling through my T-shirt and pressing against my chest so hard that I thought they'd draw blood. She tilted her hips so that her mound pushed against my erection, then raised her face and kissed me firmly, sliding through my lips with her tongue and searching for mine. When she released me her breath was coming a little quicker.
'Now we know each other properly. Mind your arms.' She squatted, her breasts sliding down my torso, and tugged at my sweats. They caught on the end of my erection and she bit her lip again and eased the material gently over the head. As they fell to my ankles she smiled and leaned back on her heels.
'Looks just like an excited prick, ' she said. 'And a pretty good one too. Lift your feet up.'
'Both of them?' She pretended to take a bite of my cock
'One at a time, dummy.' She slipped the legs over my feet and stood up. 'You sure the house is empty?'
'I swear. Gimme your shorts and I'll put everything through a rinse/dry cycle, deal with the sticky.' I looked at her challengingly, but she didn't hesitate. Her shorts were unzipped and off before I could draw breath, and she was suddenly wearing only a tiny pair of bikini-cut panties. She looked down at them and shrugged.
'They're wet too.' She slid the sheer material down her legs and stepped delicately out of them, then flicked her wrist and sent them spinning through the air to land neatly on my cock. She smirked.
'Played a lot of horseshoes this summer ... Calling Planet Doug ... Are you going to put 'em through the machine or stand there and look at me all day?' I realized that my eyes were hanging out of their sockets and my mouth was filling with drool. She was a real nice view. Smooth even tan, surprisingly white triangles at breast and crotch where the sun hadn't shone. Breasts that looked like part of a goddam anti-gravity machine, but tasteful. Hard brown nipples jutting from the pale flesh. Slim waist turning into a gentle swell of hip and stomach, curving down to a neatly trimmed dark wedge of tight curls. Pink lips peeking through the fuzz. Smooth, firm thighs that looked as though they could squeeze real good. The click sounded in my head. Way to go. I was lovin' it.
'Lemme take the memory away with me, Patty. It's a long trek to the machine and I don't wanna forget what I'm missin'.' She choked back a laugh.
'I never knew you were so laid-back, ' she said. 'I thought you'd be stuttering and dribbling by now. You better be quick though, or I'll start without you.' She arched her back and cupped her breasts, running her thumbs over her nipples and sighing exaggeratedly, then looked startled and blushed crimson. I turned and made for the stairs, her panties still dangling from my cock. I plucked them off and held them to my nose. Sure enough, they were damp and fragrant, and not with OJ either.
I was back in Olympic time and the shower was running. I took a deep breath and gave another little prayer of thanks. Then a thought wormed into the back of my head. 'This is way too easy, ' it muttered. The one percent of my brain that was working agreed and flagged the notion. Then I stepped into the bathroom.
Hell, that whole bathroom bit is a goddam cliché that works. It's OK to be naked, it's OK to stand close together, it's OK to play rub-in-the-suds games, it's OK to accidentally go a little too far and it's fuckin' great to feel that a little too far is being appreciated and the favor returned. Our hands were sliding over each other like excited hamsters at play. At least hers were sliding. Mine were dragging a little, and she noticed straight away.
'Oh my word, I'd forgotten.' She took my hands in hers and examined my wrists and forearms. 'Those really don't look too good. Are you the sort of guy who always wants to be in charge, or are you gonna let me follow my fancy?' Click.
'Anywhere you say as long as it don't involve heavy lifting. I had enough of that recently.' She raised herself onto tiptoe and kissed me.
'You say the right things, don't you?' She dropped to her knees and nuzzled my cock. Suddenly she was real confident, keen to go.
'What happened to "kinda nervous"?' I asked hoarsely. She peered up at me and winked.
'I'm enjoying myself and I like it that you don't drool.' Her voice stopped and her lips closed over the tip of my cock, then sank over the glans and down the shaft as she drew me smoothly into her mouth. She explored my contours with her tongue and bobbed her head a couple of times experimentally. Then she stood up.
'I guess I can handle that. Not here though. If you're gonna follow my fancy then I wanna have a joint effort. Let's get dry.'
'To hell with dry. I don't care if your fancy is damp.' I reached out awkwardly and took her hand and we stumbled, dripping and giggling, to my bed. She pushed me onto my back and paused.
'Spread your arms a little so they're out of the way.' She straddled me carefully, her butt staring me in the face, her head poised over my crotch. 'Don't worry about holding me, ' she murmured. 'That's nice too, but with your poor arms ... I'll just move myself about and find out if Julie was right ... Hang on a minute.' She straightened up, twisting gracefully, and grabbed a pillow. 'Now lift your ass.' I did as she said and she slid the pillow under my butt then leaned forward again and licked the tip of my glans. 'Gotta get the angle right, ' she explained and somehow managed to shuffle backwards and take me into her mouth again at the same time. I swear that women are double-jointed when they want to be. I was one hundred ten percent ready and as both delicate sets of lips covered me I started in on the first course.
I'd never been with a girl who took the initiative. Hell, when you're in High School you spend a lot of time worrying in case they decide to take it somewhere else, so it was the first time that I was with someone who was exactly where she wanted to be, doing exactly what she was doing. It's a fuckin' excellent feeling, especially when what she's doing is cooing with pleasure as she licks her way down your shaft. I tilted my head upwards and extended my tongue towards the open, glistening cleft that was hovering over my face, smelled the ever-fresh tang of clean girl and excited pheromones and urgent desire. As I drew the tip of my tongue down the slippery length of her I felt her shudder and tense, then she pushed herself lower.
I couldn't decide whether Julie Anderson needed to be warned about her big mouth or whether I ought to find her and give her deepest thanks. Either way, I was good and sure I didn't want Patty to think Julie had been exaggerating. As more of Patty's perfect cunt came into range I used everything I could. Lips, tongue, nose ... I was even excited enough to haul my poor sad-ass arms up and use my hands to hold her steady. In fact it was necessary. She was working with enthusiasm and due diligence, her head rising and falling, her breasts brushing my belly as her body rocked over me, and I was returning the favor. The syrupy taste of her was making my head spin, and I flickered my tongue round her folds, brushing her clit, teasing her but not quite connecting. Hell, the problem was what was going on at the other end. Sensations were racing through me, overloading everything, and finding out what she wanted was dam' near impossible.
She knew it too and raised her head, panting.
'You mind if we take turns instead?' Click.
'Long as you don't mind your turn lasting 'bout three and a half seconds.' I felt warm breath on my cock as she smothered a chuckle.
'Deal. Girls go first. Lemme turn round.' She scooted round and I watched her dark head sink over my crotch again. One hand curled gently round my balls and cupped them tenderly. Her tongue was coaxing me with featherlight touches and every third or fourth caress she'd sink onto my shaft, her full lips closing tight round it. Through the waves of pleasure I wondered where she picked up her technique. Not just horseshoes she was practicing last summer, I thought, then groaned as my balls tightened and the pleasure segued into the liquid feeling of approaching orgasm. She felt the change and speeded up slightly, her hand jacking my cock firmly and her tongue probing round the rim of the head. No way to stop it now.
'Uh, Patty... ' Too late. Hot cream raced through me and I spurted helplessly into her. I heard a faint squeak of surprise, then she concentrated on catching it, her cheeks bulging while I spasmed again and twice more. As I slowed she stopped sucking and let me lie quietly in her mouth for a moment, then hopped up and headed for the bathroom. I heard her spitting and gargling, then the toilet flushed and she bounced back into the room.
'Love the taste, can't swallow too much. Big load like that sits in my stomach like lead, repeats on me. You mind?' I shook my head helplessly.
'Where the hell'd you learn how ta do that?' She blushed.
'I'm a bad girl in the summer, but here I gotta rep to look after. I don't know what's come over me.' Click.
'That was me. Jeez, you chicks sure have short memories.' She snorted with laughter and dived at me, hugging me tight. I yelped with pain and she froze.
'Oh my word, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm having so much fun ... I forgot.'
'I'll live. You ready for your turn?'
'Ever since you did that trick with your sunglasses. How do you want me?'
'Every which way. Lemme get up.' Hell, my legs were still wobbling, but I managed to roll onto my feet and arrange her, her thighs splayed and her beautiful pussy open and waiting between them. I eased a pillow under her butt and she wriggled and settled onto it comfortably, then looked up at me and made loud panting noises. I grinned and sank to my knees, then blew gently on her glistening lips, and the tip of her clit. Always a good opening move. She squirmed.
'Oh my word... ' Adrenalin or lust had made me forget the pain in my arms and I lifted my hands and parted her thighs a tad more, then leaned forward into her.
Hell, I don't want to get lyrical or anything; I mean, pussy is pussy, right, but hers was as close to paradise as I'd ever been. Seemed like every square inch of it was responsive and I lost myself in there for a while. Her fragrance, all sharp need and soft musk, filled my head, and her taste was like a whispered promise of more. My cock was throbbing again and I hoped she wasn't a one-time girl.
Her hips began to roll and she thrust her pelvis up to my mouth, straining for closer contact, and as she did I moved back slightly, leaving her gasping. A mew of complaint filtered down to me and I moved forward again, nudging the tip of her clit with my nose. It was slippery with impatience and she nearly suffocated me as she squirmed against it. Time for my party trick. I slipped my tongue into her fluttering pussy and tilted my head slightly, rolling the tip of my nose harder over her stiff clitoris, then tried to touch it with my tongue. With the length I've got I can usually manage to just stroke the base of the G spot. Sure is amazing what half an inch extra can do.
As I slipped into her she tensed and bore down on my mouth, helping the process along. Her thighs clamped over my ears and I felt her pussy walls contracting round my tongue. I slipped a finger round and massaged the rim of her ass gently. Anal penetration ain't good manners on a first date, but a little suggestive pressure often goes down well. Worked for her. She cried out and twisted, grabbing another pillow and pushing it against her mouth as her climax arrived.
Jeez, how that girl did squeal. She sounded like a shoat being beaten with a broomstick, and the more she thrashed and squeezed with her thighs the more I tried to push my tongue and my nose clear through her, and the more she howled again. Luckily she ran out of energy in a while and her body slumped back down, her thighs falling away from my ears, and I was able to take my first proper breath for a spell. Truth to tell I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. Julie Anderson sure hadn't made that much fuss. I gave her dripping gully one more loving swipe with my tongue and straightened up. She lifted the pillow from her mouth and our eyes met.
'Holy fucking shit, ' she said. 'What the fuck did you do?' I couldn't believe my ears.
'What happened to "oh my word"?' She rolled her eyes.
'Jesus Christ, Doug, "oh my word" is for every day, and it stops me being a complete potty mouth, but that was "Holy fucking shit" territory. Like being in a vise.' She squirmed forward and drew me into a kiss, twining her arms round my neck and searching out her own taste as our tongues flickered against each other. Then one hand crept down my chest and wrapped round my cock.
'Already?' Her voice was pleased. 'You got any rubbers?' I shook my head, trying not to burst into tears, and she looked annoyed for a moment.
'Me neither. Well, hell, you taste pretty good. Might even swallow a little more. C'mere.' She hopped up and pushed me back onto the bed. 'Ready? You manage to twiddle your poor fingers where it matters while I'm seeing to this, that'd be good too.' Hell, anything for a lady.
And that was how I realized that I had something going. After Patty had left, I sat and thought a while. Yesterday my body went into overdrive and I nearly killed myself, and it took my mind with it and something happened in my head.
Or vice versa, I thought. Hard to tell.
And then today, what I'd been thinking about came true. When it happened I reacted right, like there was a goddam script and the clicks were prompting me. Not exactly the way I'd imagined it: hell that would have been too corny, but pretty good all the same. No way were you gonna hear me complaining. My shoulders and arms hurt like hell and I had a hickey on my cock, but shit: small price to pay.
The rest of that year was a roller-coaster. Whatever I had, I didn't know how to use it and Patty and I never hit the heights of that first time again. Hell, it was fun: mucho, mucho fun, but it wasn't ultra. Plus, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't replicate that experience in the gym. I decided to get logical and gave myself an extra project, see if I could squeeze any hard data out of the situation.
Amount of exercise, time spent studying, intensity of wanting, quality of time with Patty. First two were easy enough to tabulate, third one was more subjective, so I created a scale that reflected my Patty fantasies. The fourth was easy. From Christmas to Easter I kept track, then looked at the results.
Bummer. The correlation was very fucking obvious. The more I worked out, the more I studied, the more I rehearsed Patty situations in my head, the better everything went. Drop any one of them and the plans never quite worked and our time together was pretty ordinary. The summer had been exceptional. Over half my time had been spent exercising either body or brain and jacking up the fantasy index, and when the three peaks had combined, I'd had my out-of-body experience and my dreams had come true in a hurry.
Motivated doesn't necessarily mean insane. I guess my slacker tendencies were there already, and once I knew what was happening it seemed like a hell of a lot of effort. Did I want to spend the rest of my life pumping iron and practicing to be Einstein and planning "how shall we fuck next time" fantasies in detail?
No. Someone once told me, deep down, I'm shallow. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, what's next? Plenty of girls on the horizon, college coming up, no point in closing any doors. Mebbe I'd do some trial and error stuff, see if this was a gift I could control. Hell, the summer had been problem free, and that was before I peaked. Maybe there was some kinda middle road that would take me where I wanted without using up all my time.
So, reluctantly, I started experimenting. I forced myself to do an hour a day in the gym. I gritted my teeth and kept my GPA where it needed to be. I spent a little time each day consciously imagining two situations: Julie Anderson coming onto me and Patty giving me a hell of a farewell before the summer goodbyes.
And it worked. There were ups and downs, hesitations, some extra gym, or geometry, or fantasy while I tried to keep the graph lines on course, but hell, it worked. No vivid mental explosions, but there was the occasional faint click in my head, told me I was more or less on course. Julie started making "I'm available again" signals and Patty started hinting that ours had been a senior year thing and the Summer Prom would be the high spot. Sure 'nuff, the night of the prom was almost as good as our first time together; afterwards she cried a little, and I almost felt despondent myself when she kissed me goodbye the night before she left for the coast. Two days later I was stretched out in the back seat of the Valiant while Julie worked on my cock and mumbled how much she'd missed me.
I realized I was still standing in my bay window staring at where Miss second floor back had been. Memories kinda creep up on you when the right buttons are pushed. I shrugged to myself. Patty was a long time ago and far, far away, Julie too. Married with kids, my Mom told me, and both carrying forty extra pounds where they did the most damage. Not my type any more.
I shook myself out of my dream and thought about the rest of the day. The house was full again, and the mix was gonna be alright. Two guys, three girls, all kinda serious, safe income providers till summer break. I was on course for another good year. I stretched and thought about what I wanted. Miss second floor back, obviously, but maybe cute Ellen from last year as well ... I knew she was still in town, finishing her doctoral work and working part time to help finance the ride. She couldn't afford her old room this year and was living way out of town, using the bus to get in and out. Hell, don't look at me like that. Business is business, and she understood. She might appreciate a few evenings in or out though. Maybe a used car too.
You ever seen a slacker looking smug? That's me. A year of High School finding out about my gift and four years practicing at college got me here, and life is sweet. I ain't gonna work no more and I face the future with optimism.
You want to know about honing the gift and how I discovered the downside? Maybe I'll bother to write it down, maybe I won't. What the fuck does it matter anyway? It was more work than I wanted at the time, but I guess it turned out alright. Right now I need one small bong of good Oregon weed, and two small beers and a little down time.