I should have seen it coming, so in retrospect I have no one to blame but myself. Julie, my fiancé, had broached the subject of introducing a strap-on device into our sex games on more then one occasion. I had brushed her off with a "We'll see," or "Maybe." She eventually decided to take matters into her own hands.
Alpha male. That's what I had been my whole life. I had been a jock, a stud, a position I started to attain as a freshman in high school. At the age of eighteen I was truly a prize. Six foot four inches tall, one hundred and eighty pounds. My hair, which I wore nearly to my shoulders, was a wavy, light brown that streaked with blonde after exposure to the summer sun. For the past two summers my hair stylist had kept it that way during the winter months. My legs were long and tanned to a golden brown. With few exceptions I could date, and usually score with any girl I selected.
Mom had caught me masturbating on three different occasions between the ages of ten, and twelve. The first two times she had sent me to have a talk with my dad. I sat on his lap, and told him that the reason I played with my penis was because it hurt. Dad just told me not to do it again, and that was the extent of our talks about birds and bees.
The last time it happened mom sat down beside me, and gave me a hug telling me that what I was doing was a sin. I needed to control my lustful urges. Playing with my penis would just contribute to Satan's plan to entrap, and capture my soul. The 'icky' stuff that came out of my penis was only for making babies.
Procreation. Wasting it for any other purpose was a sin.
To illustrate her point she grasped my still erect penis, and stroked it rapidly. I became dizzy, breathless, and flushed as she asked me questions.
"You aren't thinking about God or his son Jesus Christ are you honey? You're thinking about girls, and their dirty pillows. That is the devil talking honey. If you don't touch your penis you won't have these terrible yearnings. Do you understand baby?"
Gasping, I moaned out, "Yes mommy."
"Good. That's my baby boy." Mom responded as her hand increased it's speed.
"Mommy ... mommy..." I almost whispered.
"What baby? What's wrong?"
"My 'icky' stuff is going to come out if you don't quit. Can't help it mommy."
My eyes were closed tightly, and though my thoughts weren't of God I felt like I was in Heaven. Mommy leaned in close to me pressing her evil pillows against my chest, and whispered in my ear. "Just this once it's okay because I'm showing you how easily the devil can make you sin if your thoughts are controlled by your nasty thing."
"Oh mommy." I whimpered as my testicles exploded. The first rope of cum hitting my chin, the last soaking my mommy's hand.
"I'm sorry ... mommy ... I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it."
She used her cum covered hand to turn my face towards her, and kissed me lightly on the lips. Her giant pillows pressing against my upper body as I moaned again.
"It's okay this one time Ronnie because mommy was showing you the sinful nature of your nasty thing. Don't cry honey, just don't ever do this sort of thing again."
Sex was a private, special gift to be shared only with my wife, not to be talked or bragged about with other boys.
Standing up she told me that we would continue to have talks about the evils of sex as I grew up because girls would start to be another of Satan's temptations. If I ever had questions or urges that made my penis feel funny or hurt I should come to her immediately. I nodded in understanding as she playfully rubbed my head, and then left the room.
Mom was a teacher by trade, and it became apparent as I grew older. She never blamed me, only instructed as she explained what was happening to my body, and mind. Demonstrations were also part of my education. Mom showed me the tricks that girls would use in order to weaken me. She started with hand holding, and we progressed through French kissing, body rubbing, petting, and manipulation of genitals.
Rather then curb my appetite for things sexually my urges, and needs seemed to have escalated exponentially. I was masturbating at least three times a day, five or six on weekends. Kleenex was my clean up choice, and I secreted them in a bag hidden deep within my closet. When the bag was full, I'd carry it out to the burn barrel in our back yard with the other trash, and destroy the evidence. Things proceeded nicely for me after her instructions.
I entered high school at the age of fourteen. Dating such as it was consented of long walks, holding hands, and the infrequent make out session. Shortly after I earned a starting position on the football team, a sixteen-year-old junior took an interest in me. Cindy. Not only was she stacked, and a cheerleader ... she had a car.
It wasn't long before we were steaming up the windows of her car while I tested the limits of our physical relationship. One Friday night after I'd scored the winning touchdown she picked me up outside the locker room door as was our routine. My reward was her totally nude body. Cindy was so fucking tight. Great tits, and ass. My mom had taught me a lot, but when Cindy started to rub her hand over my rigid cock I lost it, and came in my slacks. I didn't care at all because it had been fantastic.
When I got home mom was waiting up for me, but didn't notice the huge wet spot on my slacks. I had dodged a bullet.
Married women had started hitting on my when I was sixteen years old, and a lifeguard. I taught Beginners Swim Lessons to kids who were generally about five or six years old while their mothers spent more time looking at the bulge in my royal blue Speedos then the progress of their children.
I fucked my first married woman the summer of my sixteenth birthday. A trucker's wife named Bonnie who was blessed with breasts that were almost as big as my mom's. We fucked on her martial bed while her daughter napped in her bedroom. She kept saying, "Oh God. Oh God, I can't believe it's actually happening. I've wanted you so bad." She nearly tore my tight white shorts off. I grew tired of her after a couple of months, and moved on. She cried, and begged me to continue our affair, but I'd been there, done that, and it was time to move on to the next lucky winner.
Although I never vocalized my feelings regarding a double standard between the sexes, without a doubt I knew one existed. It was the female's responsibility to remain faithful to her spouse, while I was free to continue hunting. The thrill of the chase, I had a right to conquer, to watch as my newest conquest submitted freely. I was driven to see the lesser of the species spread her legs in total surrender to me.
Guys that wanted to watch their wife or girlfriend have sex with someone beside themselves ... gay fuckers. Wimps are what they were as far as I was concerned. While I would have appreciated one of these pukes offering their significant other into my bed, I couldn't fathom letting one of my girls returning the favor. I mean how stupid is that? I own their pussy, and tits, and ass. They don't spread for anyone but me.
My position was severely damaged eight years later on what should have been a care free, fun filled, week with my fiancé, Julie.
I was working for the power company at the time, and had a week's vacation left with the end of the year rapidly approaching. With no other plans, I decided to visit Julie, who was still attending college at a university about five hours from my hometown. After a phone conversation apprising her of my intentions, I gave the upcoming visit very little thought. Julie would be making all of the lodging arrangements, and whatever side trips we might be making after I arrived. I just needed to pack, get lots of money, and make the drive.
Ten days later I was on my way. It's a boring drive with very little to look at other then corn, bean, and alfalfa fields. So daydreaming is a great way to pass the time. My favorite thing to daydream about at the time was Julie. Specifically, having sex with Julie.
She had to be as close as one ever gets to literally being a nymph. In the nearly three years that we dated, she told me one time that she didn't feel like having sex. One time. She initiated the couplings at least 75% of the time, and she was game for damn near anything at least once. Measurements. Hell, I don't really know other then her breasts, which were 36D. The babe was stacked. If Twiggy were your sexual fantasy (showing my age here) then you wouldn't have given Julie a second glance. Sophia Loren, Raquel Welsh, Linda Carter, now if they were masturbation fantasies you'd have wanted to jump Julie's bones. Over the course of the next four or five hours I probably got a boner on six or seven different occasions. By the time I picked Julie up at her house (which she shared with three other girls), all I wanted to do was throw her on a bed, and drill her.
The motel she had selected was pretty nice. Big rooms, big lounge, big pool, big bed, all of life's necessities. We just about made it into the room before I started to paw at her breasts. I was so horny that I was literally shaking. As soon as the door to our room was shut, we got most of our clothes off before we coupled. It was fast, noisy, and satisfying. We ordered some food, and beer from room service, kicked back and relaxed.
.... There is more of this story ...