The days after... then,years later, we meet again and... yes, you guessed it...
I suddenly became aware of sounds downstairs. Bright daylight permeated the room, penetrated my eyelids - I must have slept in. I lifted up the covers and looked underneath, down to where not so long ago I had been enveloped by a woman's hand, mouth and vagina. I would never wash it again. How could I even think of it? Even though it was a little crusty and it flaked off when I touched it. I was a man. I know it's a cliche, but at that moment, looking under the covers at my broken-in cock, I had somehow grown up.
registration adultfriendfinder I started to
masturbate, focusing on last night's activities, imagining I would spring to attention and cum very quickly at the memories I had stored: the undressing, the kissing, the touching, licking,
fucking; the feel of her flesh, her breasts, the sweet hotness of her mouth around me, the taste of her cunt... and the moment I finally lost my
virginity - Judith riding me wildly, pounding down onto me, my hands around her fabulous tits, her hair swishing, her voice imploring... 'Fuck me, fuck me!’ I got semi-hard, but not fully and gave up... If that didn’t work then nothing would and I didn't have the heart for it. This worried me. Now I'd fucked, would wanking not appeal to me any more? Would it now always be a sad, single person's last refuge? Now I'd joined the ranks of the fucked would I spend my whole life searching for a comparative experience, eschewing all self-stimulation? I'd turned down her invitation to join her in bed. It wasn't difficult. I knew that once her head hit the pillow she'd be out cold and then I'd be trapped in a very dangerous situation. So, I kissed her again and left the house. I got half way across her back yard and turned back to give her a wave. I even asked her what she was doing tomorrow and she just laughed, said goodnight and closed the door. I wanted, more than anything to fuck her again. After all those years I'd found someone who would let me do it, and I had one more day before she was married to do it again. Surely you don't blame me for asking? Oh, right. Ok then... When I'd got home my elder
had just got in from a night of drinking. He gave me a funny look but didn't say anything - I wondered if my exploits had spread around the little town as people went from pub to pub. At first I hoped they had... then thought how her husband-to-be would feel if he found out and I shriveled inside. I felt guilty for doing it, but knew it was my one big chance and I was glad we’d done it. I couldn't believe anybody had lost their virginity more successfully or more spectacularly and simply couldn't feel bad about it for long. She'd asked me to go to the reception in the local village hall, so I did. Just for half an hour. She saw me and ran to me, whispered, 'I wore this dress for you', and I realised it was the one I'd taken off her about 44 hours before. She was drunk again. Her girlfriends looked on horrified. One of the husbands took me on one side and said: 'I want you to forget what happened the other night. Donald is my pal and I'll kill you if he finds out.' 'What happened?' 'Good, that's what I want to hear. Now why don't you just go.' You probably don't believe what I've just told you, her words about the dress, my callousness for going. It's all true. I can't really explain it now except maybe I was still on a high and needed to show off, and so did she. That sounds very sick but it’s as close as I can get. I think I now understand most of the conflicts that people experience at such intimate times. I've had my heart broken since and now have first-hand experience to guide me, but back then I was a mess. Because of that night I have coped with my own tribulations better than I might have done, accepting that ‘what goes around comes around’. My own failings have helped me to forgive others. I was young, I saw a chance and took it. If I hadn't I would have regretted it all my life, despite the hurt that I know I helped to inflict (he couldn’t have known about me specifically, but that doesn’t vindicate me for anything). As it is, I simply look back and think warmly of it, knowing that if I hadn't been the lucky boy, then someone else would have been. And our histories sort of drew us together to that point, so that it all flowed so naturally, like it was meant to be. It was meant to be. I can see now that it was obvious she was always going to be my first. *********************************************** It took me two years to find a steady girlfriend, so masturbation once again became my chief entertainment. Five more years later I was driving past the tennis club where Judith and I had played on that wet summer's day ten years before. I stopped to have a look. The courts had changed - they'd been resurfaced and had new netting erected. The clubhouse had been rebuilt, now in red brick and the place looked very good. On court 1 was a dark haired woman, heavily handicapped by huge breasts, grunting and shouting her way through a singles match. I got out of the car and walked down to the courtside. 'Hi!' 'Hiya! Where've you been? It's been ages!' I told her I was a musician, traveling around Britain, Europe, doing my damndest to earn a crust. She was impressed - I didn't even play when she'd fucked me seven years before. 'Do you still play tennis?' 'No, not for a few years.' Her opponent waited patiently. 'Do you fancy a game... tomorrow?' My girlfriend of 5 years was conveniently abroad on holiday with her friend. I was sure she was getting some extras in and so I acquiesced, hoping beyond hope that Judith had more than tennis on her mind. 'Yeah, that would be great. Six o'clock?' 'Make it six-thirty... I have to get back from town.' 'See you here then! Bye!' So we played. We ran each other into the ground and retired into the clubhouse as the light started to fail, sweating, breathing hard, at about 9 pm. I lost. We sat and talked about work, about tennis, about husbands and girlfriends. We talked about our night together and she said she still thought about it, said it was great. She asked me if I felt bad about it and I said a little. She said don't, it was very special. She told me about some videos she'd watched with Donald - pornographic ones - and asked me if I'd ever seen any. I said no. She described one to me in graphic detail and I grew very hard. She stood and did some of the actions in front of me, to aid my visualisation... then said: 'You don't want to go home, do you?' 'No.' She turned off the lights and came to me. The streetlights were on at this time and they shone through the open curtains, their amber light reminding me of when I had first made love to her. She sat next to me, her mouth on mine, kissing passionately, hands on my groin. She undid my shorts and searched for where a hard cock should be standing... it had got trapped horizontally in my pants as it had grown and she didn't find it. She must have thought I wasn't turned on. I reached down and freed it and it sprung up hard and erect. She gasped and went down on me, took me deep, wanking and sucking noisily. I reached round her back and unclipped her bra, pulled up her T-shirt and freed her tits from their constraints and again we were at it. I cupped them, then squeezed them and kissed her neck, while she sucked, bit and licked me right to the edge. She stood and peeled off her top, let her bra drop to the floor, then stood there in nothing but a short tennis skirt, frilly knickers, ankle socks, and trainers. Her tits were big and firm, impossibly so. She then took my hand and led me to the sofa... despite the new building, it was the very one she'd lain on all those years before when it had rained and rained. Again she spread herself out, only this time I pulled down her frilly panties and dived straight in, fingering and licking, showing her all the expertise I'd gathered in the intervening years. Her pubic hair was very neatly shaved and I got mouthful after mouthful of her juices. She came very quickly, hard and long, very noisily too. Then she pulled off my shirt, pulled me inside her, wrapped her legs around my back and I pumped into her. 'Huh, huh, fuck me, fuck me, nhuh, nghuh, fuck... me...' It didn't take me long. I kissed her sweet nipples as I came. She was still a very beautiful and sexy woman. She carried a few more pounds but not much more. What a fabulous unrestrained fuck she was: everything a man could wish for. She had the lot – except fidelity, but now neither did I have that quality: we were made for each other. We walked up the shadowy path and back to our cars. 'We're very good together aren't we?' I realised she was holding my hand as she spoke. She sensed my unease even in this secluded public place and drew it away. 'Yes we are.' 'I'd love to do it again... tomorrow?' Last time I was asking and she was refusing. 'OK.' I carelessly kissed her in the dark empty street and waved as she drove away. The day after we both turned up but she was nervous, as if expecting someone else to show up at any moment. We kissed and touched but that was it. My hand cupped her breast but there was a stiffness and restraint about her I’d never sensed before. We played a couple of sets and I went home.
Continue reading Losing it: Epilogue
No comments:
Post a Comment