Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20
I guess I should probably start by pointing out that the following picks up a little over a year after the events of “A First Timer’s Tale”. If you didn’t read it already, don’t. No, seriously. Just don’t. No reason to inflict that tale of some awkward as hell first time tail on yourself unless literary masochism is your kink. Just skip the next two paragraphs.
If you did read it, I won’t apologize. You brought it on yourself wanting to hear about a real first time the way it really happened. About all you really need to know is Wendy and I mostly stayed together from just before Halloween when the events described there occurred through the whole year until about two weeks before Christmas the following year. I say mostly because starting around July, she broke up with me seven times for about three days each before we got back together.
And yeah, we fucked some more. We didn’t really get just a whole lot better at it, but we were both young, stupid, and inexperienced enough that we thought the selfish approach to using each other’s bodies to masturbate was good sex. Anyway, I’m not going to bore anybody with a step-by-step “Idiot’s Guide to the Kama Sutra for Dummies” with ninety-nine percent of the pages missing which would pretty much be what we did, but will pick up at the next interesting thing that happened to me.
Oh, before I forget. All participants in sexual behaviors are over eighteen. While the events described did happen, I can only give my side of the story and it’s not much more trustworthy than any eyewitness account. Although, names, locations, and identifying marks have been altered slightly to blah blah blah.
Enough of that happy horse shit. Let’s get it on.
“Fuck!” I turned and punched the metal door hard enough to leave a dent.
Wendy had just broken up with me for the eighth, and what I figured would be the final, time. That wasn’t why I was pissed, though. I’d known it was coming. And, frankly, I just wasn’t as heavily invested when we got back together after the seventh.
I was pissed at the campus cop who’d walked up on our argument and assumed I was the bad guy, almost drawing his gun while not listening to what I was trying to tell him, and allowed Wendy to make it to her car.
I was pissed as hell at Wendy for getting in her car, drunk as she was, and taking off on the icy roads. It was only divine intervention that kept her from slamming into anything as the car spun completely around in reverse between two rows of parked cars in the dorm parking lot. It was only the intervention of the City of Lubbock who put a median right there that kept her from crossing into the oncoming lane as she spun twice coming out of the Coleman Hall parking lot onto Nineteenth Street.
Mostly I was pissed at myself for letting the situation spiral so completely out of control.
Back in my freshman fall semester, in addition to Wendy, I’d picked up a stray. Paul was from Germany, but for some reason had come halfway around the world to study Electrical Engineering at Texas Tech University. And, odd as it may sound, TTU was his first choice. Go figure. Any road, he and I had almost the same class schedule, so we just kind of naturally gravitated towards each other.
Paul and Wendy weren’t each other’s biggest fans, but they mostly got along with only the occasional joking gibe of “Slut Boy” and “Shrew”. In retrospect, though, I think they mostly got along because when Paul went out with us, he never stayed with us, and we never took him home.
I swear to God, all the man had to do was say “Well, hello there. What’s your name?” And faster than anyone would believe who wasn’t there to see it, he was gone with a giggling gal tucked in tight up under his arm. Sometimes one under each.
One time, they dragged me to a dance club. They were always doing that although I hated it. Mostly because I sucked at dancing and looked like a fullback trying to juke a pursuer. But, this was one specific time when Paul spotted his prey before I even had my billfold completely tucked away after being shaken down for two hours worth of my paycheck.
“Well, hello there! What’s your name?”
I glanced up to see a girl wearing what looked like Saran Wrap and not much else leaning back against the bar eyeing the newcomers. As I watched, she gave him the once over and I guess didn’t like what she saw.
“I don’t think so.” She said and turned around.
Holy shit! I mean, Paul struck out sometimes, sure. Not often, but I’d seen it happen. But, even when he did, the gal usually walked away giggling with her friends and smiling over her shoulder at him.
“Wow!” I muttered. “Is it just me? Or did it get cold in here?”
Wendy just looked on with that sardonic smile where it looked like only the left corner of her mouth worked.
“So,” Paul said. “Does this mean a blowjob in the parking lot is out of the question?”
“Holy fuck!” Wendy gasped.
I groaned and looked behind me as the bouncer with his arms casino siteleri crossed to push up his biceps and make them look even bigger tracked his head around like a tank turret. Oh, well, if we got kicked out, at least I would escape the torture of the dance floor.
Saran Wrap Girl turned back around and gave Paul another look. Then a slow smile spread across her face.
“Not necessarily.” She said and took him by the hand. Paul gave us the coded wave that said we didn’t have to worry about him, he’d find his own way home.
“Uh.” I said brilliantly. “Did what I think just happened actually just happen?”
“Oh, my God.” Wendy laughed. “If you think Slut Boy just struck again, then I think so. Don’t ask me how he did it, though.”
“Say, Wendy.” I turned to her with a grin.
“Don’t even, buster.” Wendy said. “We came here to dance. Maybe in an hour or so if you’re lucky.”
I wasn’t. Not that night. But, I was explaining Paul.
That was Friday night. I didn’t see Paul again until Wednesday when he came strolling into our five hour monster calculus class that met every morning at seven-thirty, thirty minutes late for a test. Wearing the same clothes he’d left the club in.
“Dude, can I borrow a pencil?” Paul asked as he slid into the desk next to mine reeking of sex. “I haven’t been back to my dorm.”
“You’re shitting me.” I whispered as I dug in my backpack. “All this time?”
“Wasn’t much out of the question.” Paul yawned.
And then proceeded to blow the curve on that test for the rest of us.
I think the only reason I didn’t hate Paul was because I had just a teensy bit of carefully hidden hero worship. Maybe it was the thick accent. Maybe it was because he adopted the George Michael look like it was his own personal brand. I don’t know. All I know was he was the unquestionable top of our classes and didn’t miss too often when he set his sights on one of the fairer sex.
Any road, normally Paul was with us for no more than about thirty minutes before he was off to carve another notch in his belt buckle. Until that fateful night.
The fall semester of our sophomore year had closed and the vast majority of the over twenty-thousand students had scattered like dandelion fluff on the West Texas winds almost as soon as they laid their pencils down after that last final. Paul hadn’t gone home, but was staying over in the dorm along with about a hundred or so others for the month and a half break.
Wendy and I had a rare day off at the same time from Sam’s Wholesale Club where we both worked, and the three of us had gone to the South Plains Mall to do a little Christmas shopping. The plan was to get something to eat after shopping and then see if we could find a dance club open.
I figured it was more likely Paul would spot some quarry at the mall and disappear. Wendy and I would go fight over dinner. And then we would go our separate ways. Probably for the last time. I’d felt the storm building almost since finals and she’d been even snarkier than usual with Paul on the drive over.
“Well, hello there! What’s your name?” Paul’s battle cry rang out almost before the inner door of the mall entrance could have closed behind us.
I often wonder how different things might have turned out if it had been any other girl when I glanced over to see who he’d set his sights on.
I grew up in a small town thirty miles north of Lubbock where I graduated in a class with forty-six other people. (There were only slightly more than two thousand people in the whole town.) Through the summer, my classmates had moved on with our new lives, moving off, heading to college. Even though I still lived out there with my mom and sister to give them some security after Dad split, my life was pretty much happening in Lubbock between school and work and Wendy.
I don’t know what the odds would have been that we ran into one of my old classmates in the only mall for a hundred miles in any direction, there’s just too many variables, but it hardly matters since we did.
Worse, it was Missy Johnson. The girl I’d had a secret crush on almost since I’d first thought I’d figured out the difference between boys and girls and decided those differences were interesting. I’d all but forgotten her as we hadn’t seen each other since the night we turned our high school tassels a year and a half earlier and I’d had my plate full, what with discovering the real differences between men and women with Wendy and just what could be done with them.
To say Wendy wasn’t thrilled when Missy bounced over to press her big boobs against me with a hug would be like saying water is a little damp, although I didn’t recognize it at the time.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, the explosion was diverted for awhile when I introduced Wendy as my girlfriend and Paul as my friend and Missy hugged both of them as well, then went back and hugged Wendy again and then a third time. The look on Wendy’s face was priceless as Missy squished against her and slot oyna effused how wonderful it was I “finally” had a girlfriend and how glad Missy was to get to meet her.
Then shit went sour, although I didn’t catch it at the time. Paul took it on himself to invite Missy to hang with us. And Missy accepted.
I admit I did think it was a little strange that Wendy held my hand or linked her arm with mine and kept pressing her modest breasts against my arm. Why, at one point, she even slipped her hand in the butt pocket of my jeans as we walked. Sam’s had a very firm rule against fraternization and we knew of three people who’d been fired behind it, so we usually weren’t so affectionate out in public where we might be seen by a coworker or manager.
But, Missy would occasionally do the same thing as she walked, skipped, and bounced along on the other side of me. Well, not the butt pocket or holding my hand, but she did link arms with me a time or two and with Paul on the other side of her. And it wasn’t like Missy could help her breasts brushing against whatever was in the way when she turned.
Wendy had fought the “freshman ten”, but about seven of it stuck to her ass. Missy had surrendered to the freshman forty, but she wore it well. She had a bit of a belly and her face was fuller and her butt was rounder than it had been under her old cheerleading skirt, but her tits were even bigger than they’d been too. Which I wouldn’t have thought possible.
Color me stupid, but I just figured Wendy was using the bubbly bouncy Missy as a shield to hide behind to slip me a little affection on the sly. Lord knew probably nobody was going to be looking at us with Paul and Missy chattering and laughing so easily.
Abuelo’s was even worse, although I thought it was even better. I didn’t drink and didn’t order any alcohol. Wendy, Paul, and Missy ran up a bar tab double the cost of our meal. Wendy stayed pressed up against me the whole time so tight I didn’t see how she managed to eat the half of her food she did. And she kept giving me these affectionate pecks on the cheek or the neck and caressing my thigh under the table.
After we paid the check and trooped out, we determined I was the only one in any shape to drive. Paul and Missy clambered in the back seat. Wendy took the passenger side in her own car and I drove us away, leaving Missy’s car in Abuelo’s parking lot. My own was sitting in the parking lot at Paul’s dorm. (Paul, of course, had left his in Germany either unable or unwilling to pay the import duties to bring it in country.)
Dallas Nights was closed. So was The Planet. We ended up at Fast and Cool, which according to Paul and Wendy should have changed it’s name to Slow and Bogus. Personally, I liked it better since the dance floor wasn’t so packed I couldn’t lower my hands to my sides without brushing some stranger’s crotch.
I didn’t quite know what to make of it when Wendy actually dragged me off the dance floor to hit the bar more times in the two hours we were there than she usually did in seven or eight different weekends. Paul and Missy came off less, but they ordered shots instead of the tri-colored slushy drinks Wendy got. I was the only one not stumbling when the DJ killed the music, brought the lights up, and informed all ten couples in the place that management had just informed him they were closing up early.
“It’s gotten icy out there.” He said into his mic. “So, just this once take it slow and easy so you can hit us up again back at Fast and Cool!”
He wasn’t just bullshitting. The temperature had dropped and the intermittent drizzle all afternoon had frozen. But, it wasn’t white ice. It was “black ice”. It was invisible. I sweated more just getting us the mile back to Paul’s dorm downshifting and never touching the brake than I had in two hours on Fast and Cool’s dance floor.
Whatever party mood I’d had was dead and buried by the time I pulled into the empty parking space next to my car and I was laboriously working through the logistics of a) getting Wendy home safe all the way out on Seventy-Third and then b) getting myself, and Missy I guessed since she was far too plastered by then, home all the way back across town and thirty miles further north up I27 and then c) everybody getting their cars back.
But, the other three weren’t done with their drunken revelry. At least Paul and Missy weren’t and Wendy seemed willing to go along with them. And I found myself, over my objections, being led inside, up the stairs, to Paul’s dorm room.
Paul put on some “mood music”, George Michael of course, and dug out three bottles of booze he’d had stashed and four cups. I refused, but the other three continued drinking as we sat on the beds facing each other, Missy cuddled up next to Paul and Wendy snuggled up to me, and talked.
Even as the only sober one in the room, I had a pretty good time, although I was laughing more at them than with them after awhile.
Then things got weird.
I’m not sure just whether Missy kissed canlı casino siteleri Paul or Paul kissed Missy while Wendy and I sat there and watched. But, I do know they kissed first while “I Want Your Sex” played for about the third time on the record player. And just like that, the sexual tension in the room ratcheted from maybe a one to a six.
Nor do I really remember just how it came about that Wendy and I were kissing with her rising above me as Missy knelt over Paul on the other bed with the covers pulled over us. All I can really say for sure was I was so worked up I didn’t care someone else was in the room as I lifted Wendy’s shirt to lick and suck her nipples with my cock throbbing down the leg of my jeans, trying to rise against the too firm material.
Then something hit the top of my head.
“What the hell?” Wendy asked as she reached above me to pick it up.
It was a bra. A really large bra. Missy’s bra.
“Oops.” Paul said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to throw that so far.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed. But, come on. Just over a year before, I’d been a virgin with very firm religious and personal beliefs about sex before Wendy decided a little corruption would be good for me. Fourteen months later, I was sucking on her nipples with her t-shirt and bra up under her chin and got hit with a bra she could have worn as a hair net while another couple got even busier just three feet away. Anyone who can’t see the humor in that paradigm shift needs to reevaluate their perspective.
Wendy didn’t see the humor at all.
I caught a knee to the crotch and an elbow to the nose before smacking the top of my head on the floor as she dumped me off the bed rushing to get out of that room. By the time I was untangled and on my feet, Wendy was on the stairs. I didn’t catch her until we were outside.
I guess I can’t really blame the cop for thinking I was the problem when he walked up. I didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and had Wendy by the arm, bad enough since I had about sixty pounds of pretty solid muscle on her. But, we’d also been yelling and Wendy had just spat on my bare chest declaring, “We are through! Finished! I don’t want to see you, hear you, or smell you ever again! Go on back to Slut Boy and Wonder Titties!”
I didn’t really care by that point. If Wendy didn’t know me better than to think I was angling for a swap so I could fuck Missy and Paul could fuck Wendy, there was absolutely no hope for our relationship to continue. But, between her being drunk and the ice on the road, I did not want her to drive. I may have wanted her out of my life if not quite as much as she wanted me out of hers, but I didn’t want her dead.
But, of course, the cop got involved and Wendy got away before the idiot went running after her on foot yelling into his radio.
After denting the door, I went on back upstairs to get my shirt, shoes, billfold, and keys and try to figure out what to do.
Paul and Missy had heated up while I was gone.
Missy squeaked and rolled off Paul and snatched at the sheet to cover her bare breasts, but not before I caught a glimpse of her brown nipple winking at me.
“Sorry.” I froze and blushed.
“It’s cool.” Paul said rising to his elbows. “Where’s Wendy?”
I told them what the idiot had done.
“You two broke up?” Missy said. “Aww. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Paul snorted. “It’s been coming. But, dude! She got the cops involved? Not cool, dude. Not cool at all.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s over. But, I hope she doesn’t get herself killed. Paul, can I use your phone real quick to call her father so he can either watch for or go look for his idiot offspring?”
“Sure.” Paul sat up and turned so his legs were hanging over the edge of the bed.
I caught a glimpse of his erect cock before Missy shifted and tugged the sheet to cover him as well as herself. Missy was blushing. I felt my own cheeks heat. Paul was unconcerned.
I called and eventually woke Wendy’s father after three times of letting the phone ring ten. Not something I ever undertook lightly since he was four inches over six feet, about three hundred and sixty pounds, and had been on three different NFL practice teams as a lineman before giving it up and starting his own advertising business to raise Wendy and her two older brothers.
“Robert, it’s Kevin.” I said. “Is Wendy home yet?”
“Mmm. Huh? Last I saw it was going to meet you. What’s going on? Wait. There’s someone at the door. Yup, it just walked in. Wendy Sue, Captain Caveman on the phone!”
I heard her father snort and a faint slam.
“I take it there’s trouble in paradise.” He yawned. “It just flipped me the finger and slammed the bedroom door. Need me to give it a message?”
“Not this time, sir.” I said. “As long as she’s home safe, that’s all that matters. Give my best to your wife and it’s been a pleasure knowing you both.”
I hung up and turned to find Paul holding out a cup to me.
“No thanks.” I said. “You know I don’t drink. And besides, I guess I’d better get out of your way.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Paul said. “If the roads are that bad, you need to just stay here. Go home in the morning when it clears.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20