All That She Want Ch. 1bywildest1©
The exploration had started early in her sexual awakening, fingertips lubricated with virginal slickness easily sliding down over tingling labia to the tight little rosebud below; the explosion of sensation that followed, however, was not so predictable as were the building orgasms she had learned to bring herself through happy experimentation.
Questions arose, and the frustrated search began for validation. Was this considered normal? How could she ever admit to a future lover the desire for stimulation there, somewhere that was considered unclean and off limits?
Even so, she closed her eyes against the dark and let her mind sort through the precious few images gleaned, and let her desires stage possibilities, her fingers took the place of her imaginary lover's fingers and she came, often. She came so hard that the tears lay cooling on her cheeks as she let her consciousness rise before sleep. This was her private indulgence, yet she hoped to find a way to experience what the mere glancing thought of brought her to a juicy orgasm, or left her panties soaking, clinging to her restless sex.
How to approach the subject, and how to go about waiting for it, when she wanted it so badly that her body seemed to betray her, nipples hardening, the young, taut curves pushed against the fabric of her dress when she was in the presence of someone she could easily imagine opening herself to. In her fantasies, he knew that which she wanted, and he, too wanted it so desperately, yet he was reverently tender, and soothed and eased her anxieties until there was nothing but the smooth, liquid want, the pure invitation to her most intimate self.
Sometimes, if her body allowed such decadent wanderings, she imagined these encounters, and in a dizzying rush, her orgasm slammed a velvet curtain on the scene, leaving her floating blissfully in what ifs.
Bold in her bed, she imagined renting videos that would show her all she wanted to see, to experience, yet she knew she would never be able to face her contemporary behind the counter, seeing what she had chosen to take home with her, alone.
Daylight always robbed her of her bravado, and she went about her days impatient for time to be alone to indulge that craving....
Her first lover came and went with the obligatory and accepted bumblings of first encounters. It was nothing to brag about, though it inspired further fantasies through better knowledge of male anatomy. What did it do to lessen the urge for the taboo?
Nothing, instead it fanned the flames of speculation.
Just what it would feel like to know that pulsing-hard cock would be thrust inside the tiny, gripping hole, the first push of wide, engorged head so impossibly huge against the sealed and pursed opening which then stretched in the most delicious, slow-burn tingle of the ring of muscles. To hear his strangled grunts muffled at her ear as he thrust deep within her and know the fullness and heat of his release within that tight restriction; to collapse in exhausted bliss, his cock relaxing but remaining inside.
All she had was a wish for the courage or craziness to ask for this, or the unbelievable luck of a partner with the desire to match.
One lucky break was to discover at a bookstore, an older book of "letters to the editor" compiled by one of the now defunct adult magazines. Cheap at the price of .69 cents and how apropos that amount seemed to her as she skipped out, so glad that the cover had been missing from the book and that the old man behind the counter hadn't bothered apparently to find out just what was in the book, all she had had to do was quickly scan the list of chapters to see the ones she could hardly wait to read until she was in the privacy of her room.
As soon as she was able, she devoured those letters, from the inept to the ridiculous, and embroidered upon them in her own mind.
She found herself turned on indescribably by the descriptions though they lacked, to her, necessary detail and she shied away from the ones with a rough bent to them.
She knew...exactly how she wanted it to go...
But when the time came, it was not how she wanted, though she whispered and urged caution, she pleaded for tenderness, he was clumsy and uncertain, himself, and viewed it as a conquest, something she was sure of when word got back to her a few weeks later.
She had been sore, afterwards, and it changed her mind. Maybe this was something best left to fantasy, and without redemption for reality, just logistically unlikely.
Sex was good, and getting better with experience, though nothing like the release she attained herself, and if she let her mind improvise during sex, to think that it would be soon she would be feeling his cock in her ass instead of her pussy.
The next time it was brought up, she was skeptical, but with a few drinks, it was easier to relax.