Trouble in the Forest
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2010 by Just Anybody

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - A sexually repressed mother and her two teen aged children drive across the country. They have car trouble and seek shelter from a storm with a stranger. Is it possible to become liberated in the middle of non-consensual sex?

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Consensual   Reluctant   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex  

At the schools recommendation, my parents had me skip a grade and I went directly from sixth to eighth. That was fine, from an educational standpoint but socially put me into high school as the youngest girl, almost a full year younger than the rest of my classmates. Insisting that I was not prepared for the aggressive behavior of the boys in my class, my mother prohibited me from dating until I was sixteen, and even then, for the first year, I was only allowed to date if we were accompanied by another couple. I didn't mind the rules, and certainly never broke them, because it relieved and eliminated the possibility that any of my dates would find an opportunity to become sexually aggressive. It was not until my Senior Prom that I allowed a boy to even touch my breasts, and I didn't do it willingly then. Had I been wearing anything other than a strapless formal gown, it probably couldn't have happened, but with the firmness of the bodice of the dress and the awkwardness of shifting my position in a car, unfortunately I moved in one direction when the dress was moving in another, and my date had a perfect view down the front of my dress. Being an opportunist, he chose at that time to slide his hand inside, cupping my right breast in his palm and keeping it firmly in place while I tried very hard to convince him to remove it. I became very angry with him and demanded that he remove his hand immediately, but he would not. He began caressing my nipple and then felt it harden and become excited. He continued caressing my breast and I eventually gave up trying to argue with him. Once I stopped expressing my anger, I could feel my nipples harden even more, even though I was desperately trying to ignore his hand. He continued his caresses, and I began to feel first strange sensations in my body and then very uncomfortable urges. I know, now, that what happened next was my first orgasm, small as it was. He felt me shudder, saw my hips and bottom wiggling uncontrollably, and when he looked at me, he could plainly see that I had lost all control. With his free hand, he took mine and put it on top of his crotch. I could feel his hardness, and just the thought of what was running through his mind made me very nervous. He was moving my hand up and down the length of his zipper. I told him we had to stop this immediately and that I was not going to have sex with him.

Finally he turned to me and said, "The only way I am going to stop is if you agree to give me a blow job."

I had no idea what that was, but I knew that I wanted him to stop, so I agreed to his terms. He immediately removed his hand from my dress, sat upright in the seat of the car and unzipped his pants, pushing them to his knees. Before I could say anything or even react, he pushed my head down to his crotch and told me to suck on him. I refused, but he forced my jaw open, as you would the jaw of a puppy, and then pushed my head onto his erection. He warned me not to bite him and then he made me perform oral sex on him. He held my head motionless as he ejaculated into my mouth and then made me swallow his semen. I wanted to vomit. Once he was satisfied, he pulled his pants up and then drove me home. His final words to me that evening were, "At least we know that the Ice Maiden is not a lesbo." That was when I learned that the boys in my class called me the "Ice Maiden" because I denied them the opportunity to use my body as a test bed for their developing machismo.

I suppose now, thinking back to my days in high school, that I probably deserved that nick name. We lived in a well-to-do suburb of Chicago, in what is called the north shore of Lake Michigan, and I as well as most of my classmates were from extremely wealthy families. It's fair to generalize that, growing up, the boys were seldom, if ever, exposed to the word "no" and equally fair to assume that they received whatever they asked for from whomever. This created quite a scene in the dating world of young teens. Boys thought that pawing a girl's body was certainly a natural thing to do and that they had a "right" to do it. It became apparent to most girls that if they wanted dates, they had to go along with these demands. My advantage was that I was not allowed to date unaccompanied until the middle of my senior year and, thus, most of the girls had already submitted to boys and thus, there was not a great demand on my body.

Attitudes changed when I went to college. The guys were much more respectful of girls but at the same time, the sexual revolution was in full swing and casual sex was much more acceptable to both men and women. My roommate in my first year in college had a boy sleeping in her bed with her the second week of school. When I called her about that the next morning, she told me to quit being such a prude and to start living in the modern world. The next weekend, a different young man enjoyed her company, and by Thanksgiving, I was accustomed to waking to find a different man in her bed nearly every weekend. During those weeks, I did get invited out on several occasions, and the guys that I dated seemed nice enough, but as the evening drew to a close, each invited me to his bed and was surprised when I declined the invitation. I guess that is why I was so surprised when Scott asked me out. We went to a movie at the student union, had a pizza at the local hangout and then he escorted me back to my dorm room without so much as a good night kiss. I was about as shocked as a girl could be. He was so different than any young man that I had dated previously--it was really refreshing. Even after several dates, his routine was the same, and I finally threw my arms around him and kissed him at the close of our fourth date. We were happy and content to enjoy each others company and neither felt the need or desire to engage in the premarital sex that seemed to be pervasive on campus.

Scott proposed to me on the back porch of my parent's home one spring night after he had driven me home following the last day of classes. He even got down on one knee when he asked me, and when I agreed, he stood up to kiss me. My hands went around him, and unintentionally, they fell around his butt as he was standing. I pulled him to me, and for the first time, could feel the hardness of his excitement through his pants. Quite naturally, I pulled him even closer to me, holding his erection in perfect alignment with me, feeling a new level of excitement flow through my body for the very first time. That feeling nearly took my breath away. I had no idea what it was or what had caused it, but I knew that it was different than anything I had ever experienced, and that it certainly was a pleasant feeling. When we released each other from our clutches, the feeling dissipated immediately, and I did not feel that again until our wedding night.

I was a virgin on our wedding night, and Scott was very considerate of that. (I don't know if he was a virgin also; I have never asked him and he has never said.) He was gentle and patient and tried hard not to cause me too much pain, but even with his tenderness, his first entry into me hurt more than anything I can ever explain. I can not believe that all women undergo such trauma in the course of their first sexual experience; were that the case, I am confident the world's population would be much less than it is today. Of course, with the pain came the overnight discomfort, the bleeding on the sheets, and my embarrassment in the morning when the housekeeper came in to attend to the room. While she was changing the bed linens, she looked at me with a critical expression and told me that it was not a wise thing to be an old virgin, that old virgins always bleed heavily and that this is why girls in France become experienced in their early teen years and don't wait so long. (Like I needed someone to point out how much I had bled and how uncomfortable I was.) After a few days, we were able to have sex again, and it was much better. I felt soft and dreamy when he was inside me, and I knew that this was what true love was supposed to be. When he asked me to give him oral sex, I told him that I would never ever do that, and to not ask again. Being the loving person that he is, he has honored that wish all of these years. It was not until sometime in our third week of marriage, when he had convinced me to be on top of him, that I experienced my first orgasm. That was such an intense thing, I didn't really know what was happening to me or my body until later in the night. I could feel the muscles of my vagina clamp tightly onto Scott and our movements became almost impossible to continue. My body shuddered and I felt my breasts swell and my nipples harden. Finally the sensations subsided and we both calmed down, me sitting astride him and his hardened member still pushing solidly in my body. I have never been able to repeat that experience, a conclusion I attribute to it being my very first time, but he has provided me with numerous orgasms throughout our marriage that have been pleasing and comforting to me. I know that some women believe that a woman should have an orgasm every time she makes love, but I am very content to enjoy the feeling of sharing my body with the man I love.

 
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