Chapter 1

The penis is the way you get come from the male body to the mouth of the girl's womb, her cervix. It's an efficient system, and to encourage its use, Mother Nature has studded both the vagina and the penis with nerve endings hooked to the pleasure centers of the brain.

Of course the whole point of the transfer was to make babies, but I didn't have that worry. Originally, back when I was 15, I'd taken my birth control pill every morning along with my multivitamin and my orange juice. Now that I was 18 I got an implant that was good for a year. It was a good thing I had it, too. I got a lot of come transferred to the mouth of my womb at the parties I attended. I was with a guy named Bob, and I could feel him tense, just seconds before he accomplished the transfer.

You don't actually feel a guy come, at least I don't. The first sign I usually have is that his whole body tenses, and his dick gets incredibly hard. I think guys' dicks get that way just before they pop. That way very little come escapes back down my channel, but stays in place to fertilize my egg. The second sign, of course, is the guy rearing back and plunging as deep as he can. This is instinctive; you want the tip of his dick right next to my cervix. A few guys groan, others just sort of grimace as if it hurts. Some catch their breath, some speed up, some slow down and stop. Every guy is slightly different.

There were a bunch of us in the room busy doing the transferring. It was a last hurrah of my high school friends. In the morning some of us were to start college, and, supposedly, I would be too busy studying to party.

I wasn't so sure; I'd been told that community college was like high school, but with smoking. But it could also give you those things you needed to get into the four-year colleges, and that was why I was going to attend.

Bob shook, another sign a guy was coming, and for just a moment I thought I could feel something deep inside me. He did have a long dick, at least when it was hard, and that meant the tip was probably only a fraction of an inch from my cervix. I'd had guys bang into my cervix with their dicks, and it didn't feel all that good. This was like the brush of a feather, but repeatedly. That meant I was actually feeling his come as it came out.

In the three years I'd been going to these parties, or coming, I'd gotten used to all the different ways guys came. I'd had a number of them pull out to come on my face or tummy. By far the most popular place was my boobs. Every girl with any sort of chest had that happen to her. My boobs were bigger than average, and so I'd had plenty of opportunity to look down as the head of his dick got all shiny, and then the hole in the tip seemed to get bigger. Out it came, one spurt of white after another. A couple of boys could hit my face from my boobs when they came, but most could only reach an inch or two. Still, for a guy, it was the point of the whole thing, though ogling naked girls was a close second. So I knew what a guy looked like when he came.

One of the most powerful elements of having sex is your imagination. Only a contortionist could see between her legs and watch a guy put it in. One of the pleasures of a party was to actually watch that happen, though with another girl. And once inside, the guy is pounding away, but the girl is off in her own world. Sometimes there's so much pleasure that you're caught up in it. Other times you pretend that the guy is someone else—roman e heroes are popular—and you imagine tall, dark-haired, rugged and handsome rather than shorter, light brown hair, and a little pudgy. Imagining things helps you come, though that isn't often a given. But I was one of those lucky ones who did come from straight sex, and so my imagination didn't have to work very hard to get me where I wanted to go.

So when Bob popped, I could picture what was happening in my mind's eye. I didn't come, but I felt really good about things. And if he wanted a second go-round, I might be willing to entertain the idea.

Of course there's that awkward pause you get at a party. The sex is over, the guy is going limp, and what do you say and do? A married couple, I'm told, cuddles for a bit, then takes turns in the bathroom. If they're freshly married, they might do it again, but once is usually enough. The guy does his thing and is done in short order. A girl, though, has to do more than just pee. After all, often times you have this white stuff dripping out of you, and you either have to clean it up, or put up with it for a while. Most of the girls at a party would take a quick pee, do a brief wipe to clean up, and put up with the feeling. In a way it was kind of sexy, and you saw lots of girls rubbing their thighs together. You saved the big clean-up for when you were done for the night.

Guys insist on coming in all sorts of places, not just the one Mother Nature intended. Most girls will clean up any remains of his passion if he got it on her boobs or tummy, though sometimes another girl will do that for you. Licking up come can be a popular thing at a party because every guy tastes different. If he got it in your hair, another popular place, you wash your hair during the general clean-up. My mother knew what I was doing at these parties—she'd introduced me to them—and didn't mind the smell of come in my hair when I got home. Other girls weren't so fortunate.

After Bob finished and pulled out—he could have left it in there for a bit longer—we traded brief kisses, and then he went on his way. I caught my breath, not sure if I was done for the night or not. I had a look at the time: not quite 10:00 p.m. There was still time for a little more fun before heading home to get a good night's sleep. And after having sex with three different boys so far, I knew I would sleep well.

His name was Andy. He was standing next to the couch, talking with someone. I sat on the couch and began pushing his dick back and forth. I can't help it, I'm fascinated by them. Part of that is because as a girl I don't have one, and you always get interested in what you don't have. Part of it, of course, is what I liked what they did to me when hard. Andy's wasn't hard, but with a little effort it could get there.

His dick was reddish and slightly wet looking, which meant it had been in use already. It sprang from a nest of red hair, and his balls hung down well on to his thighs. That was another piece of male anatomy I was interested in, but not for the obvious reason. When I'd learned the physical difference between boys and girls, I'd wondered how guys could walk around with a dick and balls between their legs. The sex part of a girl's anatomy is between her legs, and so it was logical to assume the same thing with a boy. It was only after I'd studied enough naked boys that I figured out his dick was in front of his legs, not between. Now I didn't mind, it was much easier to get to it this way.

If you play with a guy long enough, he will get hard, or at least stiffer than he was. Andy was so caught up in his discussion that he ignored me. So I knelt and started sucking him. That got his attention. He put his hand on the back of my head, right in the sticky red curls where some guy had come earlier that evening, and tried to hold me there.

I wasn't having that. I don't get that much pleasure out of giving head, and anyway, I had a much better place for his dick than my mouth. After a bit the discussion tapered off. Tabitha, a black girl in our group, was doing the same to the guy Andy had been arguing with, and that distraction made it hard to argue. Everyone rearranged themselves. I went horizontal on the couch while Tabitha led her new found friend to the nearest air mattress. Hard dicks got put into wet and willing channels, and we all started to have a good time.

Being the creative and adventuresome types, we didn't just do things the regular way. Tabitha got to ride her guy like a cowgirl, bouncing up and down on him and making all sorts of pleasurable noises. I got on my hands and knees, and Andy took me from behind.

I don't know what it is about doing it that way, but guys seem to reach deeper that way. Andy didn't have the longest dick around, but when he pushed it into me from behind I swear he was going to fill my throat from the back end. See? That was my imagination at work. I knew that Andy was about average in length, but right then he felt like he was three feet long!

A girl who gives herself over to it can really enjoy herself this way. I started on my hands and knees with my face resting on the arm of the couch. My boobs were rocking back and forth, just brushing the couch. That's kind of a cool thing when it happens. After a bit, though, he pulled me back. Soon my face was against the couch, and we were rocking to the meaty slap-slap-slap of his thighs hitting my bottom. I clutched the cushions of the couch, fighting to hold on, prolonging the experience, and yet letting all of that excitement fill me.