How it starts
He never touched me between the legs, but at night I would make up for that and wish I was dry humping him, as we did down the bottom of my long garden, or that his fingers were exploring, flickering around my nipples.
Note: All characters 18+ Find me on Substack for more up to date stories. Same name
But it wasn’t until he started making sure I gave his cock attention that our cinema visits got hardcore.
I knew all about the size and hardness of his cock because I would open my legs for it on the sofa for the few seconds my parents weren’t checking on us. I wouldn’t undress, but I’d wear something thin and soft. So did he. I almost felt he could penetrate me like that. I didn’t cum that way, but my god did I when I was alone later!
And although he wouldn’t say, I figured years later that the groans, the rigid thrusts at my centre, meant I made him cum in his pants. I’d look for the wet patch, but he’d hide it quickly. Sensible with my Dad hovering in the next room!
But in the dark of the cinema, we went further.
To start, it was ‘accidentally’ pressing the back of my hand into his bulge as we kissed and he groped me. He would unsubtly rub up and down what felt like a huge erection (much experience later I can testify it was average but nothing to complain about!). I loved it because holding his hand like that felt loving and relaxed. It wasn’t scary. I didn’t have to do anything. It was easy and seemed so good for him. This time when he came, I could feel the same wet patch seep onto the back of my hand a little.
He would press my knuckle right into the base of the head of his cock. His whole body would freeze but for the pulsing of his cock beneath my knobbly middle finger.
My favourite memory of these first ‘hand jobs’ is the time he pulled away from kissing to look at my face in the dancing lights of whatever movie we weren’t watching. While he came. Seeing a man cum up close made me fall in love with that look, that excitement, that power. So much that I have always looked for it ever since. It makes my doing this job so perfect for me. And all at arm’s length too, which is safer than the thrills I might have chased in the past. Still, they help inform the writing! I’m still loving making strangers cum!
His face looked so serious. His eyes drilled through my soul. And his tongue stuck out slightly to give his face a hint of mad perversion rather than anything romantic. We weren’t in love. We lasted nine months. We just had lustful cravings consuming us, and so when our celestial bodies collided... BOOM!
Of course, as many of us would confess, soon you need more. My hand, my knuckles, all controlled by him, were not enough. Within a month, he had turned my hand over, and I could grip the outline of his dick through thin pants, and I suspected no underwear at all.
It was beyond intoxicating. A thousand drugs pumping through my veins. An adrenaline hit that made a heart attack not seem impossible and vomiting highly likely.
I was tentative. I didn’t squeeze it hard. Despite him having crushed my fist into his cock I still wasn’t sure how rough to be.
It hardly mattered. A few squeezes of my fingers up and down the length of it and he was cumming. I could hear him moan. I thought the couple near us could probably hear him as she jerked her head around, but we got away with it. He thrust his hips up at my hand, then grabbed the back of it and pushed it against the place he needed the pressure most. A few slides up and down with his hips and the palm of my hand felt warm and wet.
I moved my hand around a little, trying to cover the palm in as much cum as would come through.
When it had been on the back of my hand, I had waited until I was home, safely in bed, before trying to sniff it, to taste it. I could hardly get a thing. A vague smell of the sea, I decided romantically. But nothing to what cum from a man really was. Embarrassingly, I would rub the knuckle on my pussy. Not out of some dumb ambition to get pregnant but just so I could connect his cock with my virgin cunt. And honestly, I was already a dirty bitch, I thought, and it seemed the perfect perverse thing to do!
I have no idea what he did when he got home after ‘not watching’ a film, but on one of those long nights, years later, with a new lover discussing our kinks and first times, I got an idea.
After dates with his first girlfriend, which rarely ended as happily as mine did (I thought I was a prude in a way not to be fucking my first boyfriend, right off; in fact, I never fucked him at all, but I think I was more normal than I thought.) When he’d get back, he would kneel in front of a mirror that his parents had never got around to putting up and jerk himself off.
Wave after wave of teenage lust and frustration would fly onto the poor innocent mirror as he imagined fucking the girlfriend in the woods behind his house (I had so much sex in forests, including up trees with that guy! Early experiences seem to dictate your sexual perversions for life).
Then once it was dripping with long thick strands of the funny white stuff, he would lie it on the floor and begin wanking again. Only this time he would be licking his own cum off the smooth surface, enjoying the perversity, the taste, the fact that he’d replace it all again in ten minutes, that he wished she was licking it off the mirror for him. Or that it had been her face and not the mirror he’d painted.
I loved getting that lover to cum against my nipple and then suck it all off until he was hard enough to fuck me again.
Now, I have no idea if my first boyfriend shot his loads onto a mirror so he could watch himself cum from the angle you would if you were taking a facial. I didn’t know if he lay in bed and simply pictured me. Or some other girl he really wanted. Or a teacher or Hollywood star. I thought it was probably a flick through my Myspace page that done it for him. But then that was my fantasy for every guy I met!
(I could not help mentioning my username at sixth form, in classes, in front of my favourite teacher. Or at the youth clubs, or when the hot friend of my Dad’s was around, or even at a big family get-together. Who was I trying to impress? Who was I hoping would look at my sneering face with a bottle of beer staring out at them and think, ‘damn I wanna fuck that girl. I’m going to get my cock out and wank it right now. I don’t care if I’m not hard enough to fuck my wife later. That girl needs it more.’ ? Or the ones in uniform. Or the ones with short skirts I’d never wear now. Don’t worry, it no longer exists!)
Anyway, I’m getting very off topic…
