don_jetman
Moderator
Beginnings - 1
by Don jetman
L was my girl, a fresh-faced college senior, nine years my junior. It was Saturday night, and she had persuaded me to hang out in her dorm to meet some of her friends. Music poured into the long hallway, a different song coming from each open door. I'm not sure how many of her friends I met, a dozen or more most likely, as they wandered in and out of her room where we sat on her bed, listening to Billy Joel on her tiny stereo. Most were girls - young, exuberant, sexy, and a little stoned or drunk. They visited just long enough to give me the once-over, giggling and wiggling, getting a kick out of teasing me in front of L. But L didn't mind - they were like sisters to her, and she knew it was all in fun. I met a few guys as well. They seemed to know L as well as her sisters, and I had flashes of jealousy now and then when they shared an inside joke I didn't get. They were all so damned young.
As the hours passed, the alcohol and pot took their inevitable toll. The halls grew quiet, candles replaced the harsh overhead lights, and people began to crash in any convenient room, sprawled contentedly on floors and beds, their conversations more serious, more candid. L's guests slowly dwindled until only three of us were left. L and Paul shared the same major and a few classes, and were deep into a discussion on the fine points of a recent chapter of abnormal psychology. Yawn. My degree was in chemistry, and the psych talk left me teetering on the edge of a coma. Of course, I had consumed my share of the available recreational goodies, and was somewhere between a buzz and spiritual fulfillment.
I'm not sure when the talk turned to sex. It had something to do with psychology, as I remember. Maybe. Paul held that men and women were basically different, that men were hard-wired hunters, sexual predators with an instinct to spread their seed. L was into her feminist period at the time, and argued that women weren't hard-wired to be cowering babymakers. Or something like that. I was amused when she told him women are as sexual as men. I was her first lover. We had done it less than 20 times. So, I guess I snorted. Or harrumphed. Whatever it was, she got the message. And she didn't like it much.
"So, you don't think I'm sexual?" she said. Her eyes were fiery. I knew when I was being baited.
"I think you're very sexy," I answered, now recognizing that damage control would require resources I couldn't muster at the time.
"I said 'sexual', not sexy," she repeated. I was stoned and a little drunk. I took just a bit too long to answer. Hell, I wasn't sure she was all that sexual. She had been pretty innocent during the time we had dated. A virgin when we met. But I did think she was sexy. The first time I saw her. Yum.
"You honestly believe I don't think about having sex with other guys? That I might never be tempted to do it?"
I was stunned. Paul was grinning. I stammered something like, "Um I, uh don't know..."
"What would you think if I took off my clothes right here, right now, and had sex with Paul?"
I grinned, snorted, and shook my head. "Oh please," I told her. "Sure. Right." It was a mistake.
She stood up, and without a word, walked across the room to where Paul lay in her roommate's bed, propped up against the wall, still grinning. She began to undress.
I still remember how she did it. Each step. First, the button at the front of her jeans, then the zipper, drawing it down, opening a V that showed the smooth skin of her belly and the top of her pink panties. She tugged the jeans over her hips, hooking her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them along with her jeans until she was naked from the waist down. She stepped out of them and stopped, looking straight at Paul, waiting for his reaction, as if to say, "Do you think I'm sexual? Do you want to fuck me?" Her back was to me, and her ass was magnificent in the candle light. Paul stared. His eyes were fixed between her legs. I was jealous and angry. But I was also mesmerized. I knew I should do something, that I should put a stop to this. But I couldn't. I just stared.
She played with the buttons at the neck of the knit top. Was she uncertain, or teasing him? The flickering candles threw shadows across the dimples just above her ass cheeks. The last thing I wanted was for her to have sex with this guy, but at the same time, watching her, being in the same room with her as she stripped for him, was exciting in some strange way. It was just impossible that she was standing there half naked in front of him.
It seemed so easy for her to peel the top up over her head, so effortless to pull her arms from the sleeves and toss the tan ball of material into his lap. He just sat there, still staring at her, leaving her top softly rumpled over his erection. It was just as well. I didn't want her looking at the bulge in his pants. I didn't want her thinking about another guy's penis. But I knew she was. I hated it and loved it. But I couldn't explain it.
I watched her fingers undo the hooks at the back of her bra, then slide the thin straps over her shoulders and let it fall away from her breasts. She squared her shoulders, pulling them back, arching her back just a little, a slap to my face for my arrogance. She knew that I would get it, that she was thrusting her small firm breasts at Paul, daring him to touch her. It was very odd. Beneath the waves of overwhelming shock and jealousy, I became aware of this faint ember of excitement, just a sliver of constant warmth that stayed with me, holding me to the bed, making me watch my naked girlfriend as she flaunted her body before a guy I had never met. It wasn't that I wanted them to have sex - I dreaded it. It was more like, deep inside where I was afraid to look, I was curious to know if she would, and what it what it would be like to see them together. These weren't conscious thoughts, but looking back, they were there, whispering to me, nagging me, daring me to go someplace new and possibly very dangerous.
Within seconds, Paul stood and took her in his arms. They kissed, deeply, for a long, long time. His hands roamed over her bare back, down to her ass, then up her belly to her breasts. She gasped when he touched her there. Her gasp hit me like a second slap. Yet, I watched, frozen there on her bed, unable to look away.
They had stepped apart a few inches, still kissing, their hands busy between them. Paul continued to fondle her breasts and nipples while L unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt and pants. Up until this point, I was certain that L would never fuck him, that it was all an act to make her point. Now his shirt was open and his pants were around his knees.
They moved closer. Her nipples grazed his bare chest. A second later their bodies were glued together, her breasts flattened against him, his hips grinding slowly into hers. They kissed harder, sucking and slobbering, attacking each other's mouths. L's back was still turned toward me, and I was astonished to find how erotic her body looked - her back and waist twisting as she devoured his mouth, her ass cheeks clenched into two tight, round balls of flesh as she pushed against him, her arms sensuously draped over his shoulders, fingers weaving through locks of his thick brown hair as she held him. It was a perspective I never got to see during sex, and the beauty of it pushed my jealousy to a back burner. But it was simmering just the same. This was my girl. MY girl.
L's little moan suddenly turned this thing of beauty into something else altogether. It wasn't really a moan - more like a short, quiet, "nnnh". She shivered a little when she made it, and stopped kissing him. It was then I noticed her legs were parted slightly, and he was fingering her. He was inside my girl now, even if it was only a finger. I was freaking a little, but still paralyzed, unable to intervene.
The final test was when she took his penis in her hands, moving her fingers lightly over the length of his erection. I saw but I didn't see. I believed, but I didn't believe. It was surreal, horrifying, and amazing. Totally over the top. She would never do this. Never. Never.
They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, masturbating each other. In spite of the periodic tremors and gasps, they seemed almost peaceful, as though they were alone in the world, simply enjoying the pleasure they gave each other. Beautiful, but disturbing, from where I sat. They seemed so at ease with each other I began to wonder how many times this had happened before, here in her room (in the very bed I sat on?). Maybe she wasn't only MY girl after all.
He froze for an instant, then let out two short grunts as he came in her hands. She just kept stroking him softly until he recovered somewhat, then she pressed her body against him again and kissed him fiercely. By this time she had more than delivered her point, but the final kiss was almost more than I could take. Was it just icing on the cake she was feeding me, or was it more? And if it was more, why would she rub my nose in it? She was a tease, but she wasn't cruel. As convincing as the kiss was, I was pretty sure she was relishing the final blow, a lesson about smugness I wouldn't soon forget. There was no doubt I would have to concede to her "sexuality", and to the revelation that there was a bold, adventurous, uninhibited side to L that I never knew existed. My jealousy soon turned to humility. But, my god, what she had done to prove her point.
Reality came to Paul very quickly. He glanced at me, backed away from L, pulled up his pants, and headed for the door. Mumbling an embarrassed, garbled farewell to her, he shot me a second worried look, then closed the door behind him.
L turned toward me, her nakedness almost an assault. "So, do you think I'm sexual?" she asked me again. I stared the small shiny patch of semen on her belly. Her fingers on one hand were wet with it as well. I was speechless.
"Well, I guess that's a 'yes' then," she told me, grinning. Touche.
L and I were married soon after her graduation. I had asked her for months after the incident whether she had been seeing Paul while we were dating. The answer was always the same. "He's just a friend." She seemed convincing. But apparently there was a lot I didn't yet know about L. I wondered what other surprises she had in store for me in the future. Back then, I couldn't have begun to imagine.
Not long ago, after her second session with her first lover, she admitted that she and Paul had played out the scene in her room more than once, both before and after that night. At first she claimed they never fucked, that to her that was too much like cheating, but they did get naked and masturbate each other, on weekends when I wasn't able to visit, or when her roommate was out of town. After questioning her claim, she finally admitted although there was no romantic involvement, it was just fun, convenient, physical sex. "So, you were just fuck-buddies," I'd said after she told me. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way," she objected. Then she looked at me and grinned. "Yeah, I guess we were."
by Don jetman
L was my girl, a fresh-faced college senior, nine years my junior. It was Saturday night, and she had persuaded me to hang out in her dorm to meet some of her friends. Music poured into the long hallway, a different song coming from each open door. I'm not sure how many of her friends I met, a dozen or more most likely, as they wandered in and out of her room where we sat on her bed, listening to Billy Joel on her tiny stereo. Most were girls - young, exuberant, sexy, and a little stoned or drunk. They visited just long enough to give me the once-over, giggling and wiggling, getting a kick out of teasing me in front of L. But L didn't mind - they were like sisters to her, and she knew it was all in fun. I met a few guys as well. They seemed to know L as well as her sisters, and I had flashes of jealousy now and then when they shared an inside joke I didn't get. They were all so damned young.
As the hours passed, the alcohol and pot took their inevitable toll. The halls grew quiet, candles replaced the harsh overhead lights, and people began to crash in any convenient room, sprawled contentedly on floors and beds, their conversations more serious, more candid. L's guests slowly dwindled until only three of us were left. L and Paul shared the same major and a few classes, and were deep into a discussion on the fine points of a recent chapter of abnormal psychology. Yawn. My degree was in chemistry, and the psych talk left me teetering on the edge of a coma. Of course, I had consumed my share of the available recreational goodies, and was somewhere between a buzz and spiritual fulfillment.
I'm not sure when the talk turned to sex. It had something to do with psychology, as I remember. Maybe. Paul held that men and women were basically different, that men were hard-wired hunters, sexual predators with an instinct to spread their seed. L was into her feminist period at the time, and argued that women weren't hard-wired to be cowering babymakers. Or something like that. I was amused when she told him women are as sexual as men. I was her first lover. We had done it less than 20 times. So, I guess I snorted. Or harrumphed. Whatever it was, she got the message. And she didn't like it much.
"So, you don't think I'm sexual?" she said. Her eyes were fiery. I knew when I was being baited.
"I think you're very sexy," I answered, now recognizing that damage control would require resources I couldn't muster at the time.
"I said 'sexual', not sexy," she repeated. I was stoned and a little drunk. I took just a bit too long to answer. Hell, I wasn't sure she was all that sexual. She had been pretty innocent during the time we had dated. A virgin when we met. But I did think she was sexy. The first time I saw her. Yum.
"You honestly believe I don't think about having sex with other guys? That I might never be tempted to do it?"
I was stunned. Paul was grinning. I stammered something like, "Um I, uh don't know..."
"What would you think if I took off my clothes right here, right now, and had sex with Paul?"
I grinned, snorted, and shook my head. "Oh please," I told her. "Sure. Right." It was a mistake.
She stood up, and without a word, walked across the room to where Paul lay in her roommate's bed, propped up against the wall, still grinning. She began to undress.
I still remember how she did it. Each step. First, the button at the front of her jeans, then the zipper, drawing it down, opening a V that showed the smooth skin of her belly and the top of her pink panties. She tugged the jeans over her hips, hooking her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them along with her jeans until she was naked from the waist down. She stepped out of them and stopped, looking straight at Paul, waiting for his reaction, as if to say, "Do you think I'm sexual? Do you want to fuck me?" Her back was to me, and her ass was magnificent in the candle light. Paul stared. His eyes were fixed between her legs. I was jealous and angry. But I was also mesmerized. I knew I should do something, that I should put a stop to this. But I couldn't. I just stared.
She played with the buttons at the neck of the knit top. Was she uncertain, or teasing him? The flickering candles threw shadows across the dimples just above her ass cheeks. The last thing I wanted was for her to have sex with this guy, but at the same time, watching her, being in the same room with her as she stripped for him, was exciting in some strange way. It was just impossible that she was standing there half naked in front of him.
It seemed so easy for her to peel the top up over her head, so effortless to pull her arms from the sleeves and toss the tan ball of material into his lap. He just sat there, still staring at her, leaving her top softly rumpled over his erection. It was just as well. I didn't want her looking at the bulge in his pants. I didn't want her thinking about another guy's penis. But I knew she was. I hated it and loved it. But I couldn't explain it.
I watched her fingers undo the hooks at the back of her bra, then slide the thin straps over her shoulders and let it fall away from her breasts. She squared her shoulders, pulling them back, arching her back just a little, a slap to my face for my arrogance. She knew that I would get it, that she was thrusting her small firm breasts at Paul, daring him to touch her. It was very odd. Beneath the waves of overwhelming shock and jealousy, I became aware of this faint ember of excitement, just a sliver of constant warmth that stayed with me, holding me to the bed, making me watch my naked girlfriend as she flaunted her body before a guy I had never met. It wasn't that I wanted them to have sex - I dreaded it. It was more like, deep inside where I was afraid to look, I was curious to know if she would, and what it what it would be like to see them together. These weren't conscious thoughts, but looking back, they were there, whispering to me, nagging me, daring me to go someplace new and possibly very dangerous.
Within seconds, Paul stood and took her in his arms. They kissed, deeply, for a long, long time. His hands roamed over her bare back, down to her ass, then up her belly to her breasts. She gasped when he touched her there. Her gasp hit me like a second slap. Yet, I watched, frozen there on her bed, unable to look away.
They had stepped apart a few inches, still kissing, their hands busy between them. Paul continued to fondle her breasts and nipples while L unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt and pants. Up until this point, I was certain that L would never fuck him, that it was all an act to make her point. Now his shirt was open and his pants were around his knees.
They moved closer. Her nipples grazed his bare chest. A second later their bodies were glued together, her breasts flattened against him, his hips grinding slowly into hers. They kissed harder, sucking and slobbering, attacking each other's mouths. L's back was still turned toward me, and I was astonished to find how erotic her body looked - her back and waist twisting as she devoured his mouth, her ass cheeks clenched into two tight, round balls of flesh as she pushed against him, her arms sensuously draped over his shoulders, fingers weaving through locks of his thick brown hair as she held him. It was a perspective I never got to see during sex, and the beauty of it pushed my jealousy to a back burner. But it was simmering just the same. This was my girl. MY girl.
L's little moan suddenly turned this thing of beauty into something else altogether. It wasn't really a moan - more like a short, quiet, "nnnh". She shivered a little when she made it, and stopped kissing him. It was then I noticed her legs were parted slightly, and he was fingering her. He was inside my girl now, even if it was only a finger. I was freaking a little, but still paralyzed, unable to intervene.
The final test was when she took his penis in her hands, moving her fingers lightly over the length of his erection. I saw but I didn't see. I believed, but I didn't believe. It was surreal, horrifying, and amazing. Totally over the top. She would never do this. Never. Never.
They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, masturbating each other. In spite of the periodic tremors and gasps, they seemed almost peaceful, as though they were alone in the world, simply enjoying the pleasure they gave each other. Beautiful, but disturbing, from where I sat. They seemed so at ease with each other I began to wonder how many times this had happened before, here in her room (in the very bed I sat on?). Maybe she wasn't only MY girl after all.
He froze for an instant, then let out two short grunts as he came in her hands. She just kept stroking him softly until he recovered somewhat, then she pressed her body against him again and kissed him fiercely. By this time she had more than delivered her point, but the final kiss was almost more than I could take. Was it just icing on the cake she was feeding me, or was it more? And if it was more, why would she rub my nose in it? She was a tease, but she wasn't cruel. As convincing as the kiss was, I was pretty sure she was relishing the final blow, a lesson about smugness I wouldn't soon forget. There was no doubt I would have to concede to her "sexuality", and to the revelation that there was a bold, adventurous, uninhibited side to L that I never knew existed. My jealousy soon turned to humility. But, my god, what she had done to prove her point.
Reality came to Paul very quickly. He glanced at me, backed away from L, pulled up his pants, and headed for the door. Mumbling an embarrassed, garbled farewell to her, he shot me a second worried look, then closed the door behind him.
L turned toward me, her nakedness almost an assault. "So, do you think I'm sexual?" she asked me again. I stared the small shiny patch of semen on her belly. Her fingers on one hand were wet with it as well. I was speechless.
"Well, I guess that's a 'yes' then," she told me, grinning. Touche.
L and I were married soon after her graduation. I had asked her for months after the incident whether she had been seeing Paul while we were dating. The answer was always the same. "He's just a friend." She seemed convincing. But apparently there was a lot I didn't yet know about L. I wondered what other surprises she had in store for me in the future. Back then, I couldn't have begun to imagine.
Not long ago, after her second session with her first lover, she admitted that she and Paul had played out the scene in her room more than once, both before and after that night. At first she claimed they never fucked, that to her that was too much like cheating, but they did get naked and masturbate each other, on weekends when I wasn't able to visit, or when her roommate was out of town. After questioning her claim, she finally admitted although there was no romantic involvement, it was just fun, convenient, physical sex. "So, you were just fuck-buddies," I'd said after she told me. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way," she objected. Then she looked at me and grinned. "Yeah, I guess we were."