After Mrs. Lasalle - Silvi

Mrs. Lasalle had tempted me, and I had given in. It was great, but I was dating a girl up north whom I loved. She was 18 and Mrs. Lasalle was probably 48. I knew I could lie to my girlfriend and keep fooling around with Mrs. Lasalle, but I didn't want to lie. Keeping one incident of cheating secret was all I could handle.

I decided that I would move back north. I couldn't stand only seeing Brenda every two weeks. I would have to pay rent and I would use up my savings even if I got a low paying job, but the plant should re-open in a few months. If everything went well, I would have a good job and get engaged to Brenda.

I told Mrs. Lasalle how I felt the next day at work.

"I didn't realize you wanted to marry this girl."

"I can only work until the end of the month. I plan on renting an apartment up north."

"You can work here as long as you want."

"Thanks Mrs. Lasalle. I regret what I did, but I want you to know how beautiful you are. If it wasn't for Brenda......."

"It's fine Will. We were just having a bit of fun. Don't mention it again."

I waited for the next week to come. I was tempted to tell Brenda over the phone, but I wanted to make sure things were perfect before I told her how committed I was.

Before I left, I showed up at the garage to do a driving job. There was no one in the waiting room, so I asked Mrs. Lasalle where the customer was.

"It's me."

She had lent her car to her daughter and was getting rides back and forth to work. She told me to log my time and distance, but I refused. I couldn't charge her after she helped get my car fixed up. She insisted and I insisted.

On the drive out to her house I had to ask. "Mrs. Lasalle. You know the thing we did in your office. I wasn't wearing a condom. There is no chance you could get pregnant, is there?"

"No. Those days are over. I can't get pregnant."

She invited me into her house, but I declined. "Don't be afraid to come in Will. If you need a drink or to use the bathroom."

"I'm fine. I will see you next week."

The next day I was on my way north. I want to explain why I stopped messing around with Mrs. Lasalle. I have to write about Brenda, but before that I have to explain what happened with Silvi, my first girlfriend up north. If you read these stories to hear about my adventures with Mrs. Lasalle, you can stop reading this one now.

I had told Mrs. Lasalle about Silvi when we talked dirty, but there was much I chose to leave out.

After Mrs. Lasalle stopped seeing me that first summer together, I met my next girlfriend at college. She was experienced. A little too experienced.

I met Silvi, a young Lebanese Christian girl. We worked together at the plant. She had recently started working and I had a chance to talk to her explaining part of her job. She was cute, but shy. She was from a strict family and inexperienced. After flirting with her for weeks, she agreed to go to the movies with me.

I took her to a drive-in. It was early spring, and the car was cooling off into the night. She had a nice sweater on, but I was getting cold. I folded my arms across my chest, and she noticed and asked me "What was wrong?". I told her I was cold. The distance between us disappeared and we spent the second half of the movie making out.

She was petite so I easily held her in my arms as she straddled my leg and kissed me. We didn't say a word and kept kissing and grinding until the end credits of the movie started. I suspected she was a virgin, so I kept my hands out of her sweater and only casually brushed up against her breasts to feel them. They were two nice little mounds under that thick sweater. I had my hands on her back, but I would move them and feel the shape of her ass in her jeans. She was pushing against my hardon, but she acted like she didn't know it was there. The stereotype of steamed windows is definitely true. When the movie ended, she moved away from me and asked me to take her home.

As I stopped in front of her house she said, "You planned that."

"Planned what?"

"To get me in that car and take advantage of me."

That was how our date ended, with a weird accusation on her part. I think she had guilt over making out with me. The first days back at work she barely talked to me but then she asked me to take her out again. Our dates didn't feature any alone time, which I think was by her design. Nor did I meet her parents. Finally, one day on a walk I kissed her forcefully and put my hand against her chest feeling the shape of her tits through her shirt. She kind of froze up. I stopped kissing her when she did not respond. When I dropped her off, she said she felt 'like a piece of meat.'

I just about had it. Although I knew from our first date that she could feel passion, she was just not allowing herself to let go. So, I stopped talking to her. After a week, she came up to me and said, "I thought you liked me." I told her I wasn't interested in holding hands and kissing her on her cheek.

I wish I had met another girl, but without anything else to do I ended up taking her on another date. I told her she had to relax and not guilt me or we couldn't date. I deliberately took her parking and to my surprise she started making out with me with the same passion she had on our first date. We grinded against each other until I thought my dick would die. She straddled my legs and dragged her hips up and down pressing the crotch of her jeans against the top of my leg. The longer we grinded the wilder her kisses became. I shifted her upward as she was grinding and pressed my face up against her tits in her shirt. Then it happened. She orgasmed. It was like no other orgasm I experienced. Her body shuddered. I felt her erect nipples through her shirt. She didn't complain when I grabbed her ass. She made strange little noises. It went on and on for so long I wasn't sure if it was an orgasm or something else. When she finally rolled off me, she was flushed and almost sleepy looking. She kissed me a few more times and then told me that she was already late to get home. She didn't acknowledge the massive bulge in my pants.

I was addicted. I loved her orgasm. The slow build up, the reluctance, she even said a couple of times "we should stop", but she didn't. Her orgasm was different from Mrs. Lasalle's. Mrs. Lasalle need a buildup and then direct stimulation, usually with my tongue against her clitoris, occasionally she would orgasm from penetration, but usually when I fucked her, she came close and lost the feeling after I came. My college girlfriend usually had short sharp orgasms, similar to mine. I loved Silvi's. Something about the endless rubbing and French-kissing led to an orgasm without direct physical stimulation other than what she got through her jeans. It was pure magic.

The next time we kissed for a long time. Her breathing changed and she lifted her head and she said "we have to stop." I held her gently and kissed her cheek, then her nose, then her eyebrows. She put her lips against mine. We kissed slowly but after a few minutes our tongues were exploring each other's lips and she started dragging her hips back and forth over my leg. I could tell when she was getting close. I felt her tits under her shirt but over her bra. I grabbed at her ass until my hands were sore. I slid my fingers around her ass and along the front of her jeans as she grinded. She wouldn't stop, and she didn't complain. She started to orgasm breathing into my mouth rather than kissing, but after a minute she seemed to stop and she started kissing again, then a few minutes later she started again. As I held her breasts in my hands she jerked her crotch against the bulge in my pants. Her orgasm seemed to last minutes. The whole time I was attuned to her body. I felt every vibration, every sharp breath. There was no doubt this time. She left a wet spot on my jeans.

On the drive home, she started to complain that what we were doing was wrong, that I should keep my hands out of her shirt, that she felt dirty. When she got out of the car at her house there was enough light to see that the crotch of her pants was wet.

My dick throbbed after those dates. The first night I masturbated, but it wasn't good. All that stimulation earlier in the night made my orgasm strained. The second time I waited until the morning. I was awakened by a hardon that wouldn't go down until I shot a massive load onto a dirty shirt. In between dates I would see her at work and whisper into her ear how gorgeous she was.

On our next date, I undid her bra. First, she complained and put it back on, but as she got closer to orgasming, I unhooked it again and I gently played with her little mounds and massaged her nipples with my fingers. This time she didn't orgasm twice, just one long powerful orgasm and a shout into my ear. This time I pointed out the wetness between her legs. She said it must be 'sweat'.

Three dates she left me high and dry, with only a wet spot on my jeans as a payoff. The next time we parked she was getting into it. It only took a few minutes for her to start tonguing me and grinding against me. She didn't complain when I pulled her bra down. This time however the frustration was killing me, and I pushed her off and got out of the car. When I got back in, I told her I had to get a drink and we drove to a convenience store and bought some drinks.

"What's wrong Will?"

"I just can't. It's too much." Then I whispered. "I have to take it out. You have to put your hand on it."

I thought I had crossed the line. I expected her to angrily tell me to drive her home. But to my surprise, she answered "Ok."

I drove back to our parking spot and after some brief kissing I lowered my jeans and underwear. Never had it been more rigid. She looked at it with a shocked look on her face. I don't know if it was the first she had seen so close and so hard, or if she didn't like the look of it in general. I said, "Your hand." She reluctantly reached over and gently held onto it. I looked down at her small fingers wrapped around my shaft. I couldn't believe she was holding it. It throbbed and she pulled her hand away for a moment and then held it again. "You have to move your hand up and down."

She moved her hand up and down with her fingers lightly brushing and tugging the skin of my shaft. Then she stopped. I told her to continue. After a while she asked, "For how long?"

"Keep going." Slow and steady she stroked my shaft mostly with her fingertips. After a long while I was on edge, but the stroking wasn't enough to make me cum.

I put my hand over hers and made her stroke more forcefully as she complained. "Oh Will, what are you doing?"

"A bit more." I begged her. I managed to slide her hand over my shaft a few more times, then I shot out. Straight up in the air a loop of cum spurted and then came down again followed by numerous more landing onto my leg and her arms and our hands.

There was panic in her voice. "Oh my God Will. What did you do?" She stared horrified at the gob of cum on her forearm.

"Sorry." I actually said sorry. I felt like a fucking fool for that afterwards.

"Just clean up." She obsessively got some tissue and made me clean up as best we could. I asked her if she wanted to continue kissing. I was hoping I could get her off as well, but she said "Gawd no. Please take me home."

The following Monday she was mad at me at work. "That was disgusting!"

"Well, that is what it is. We can't kiss and fool around without that happening. I know that you came as well. All that wetness in the front of your jeans."

"That wasn't a mess. I didn't shoot all over the car."

"Not totally, but you got some on my jeans."

"You're disgusting. I can't talk to you." Then she walked away.

The next day when she asked me if we were going to date again, I told her we would, but she would have to touch it again.

"Do you even love me?" She asked.

Like a fool I said yes. Fuck I wanted to touch her pussy so bad. Even after all my experience with Mrs. Lasalle, with a threesome with her sister, with a gangbang in a frat house, I was mesmerized by her body, by her wicked orgasm. I had to feel it with my fingers on her pussy. I wanted to feel it with my tongue. "If we do it again, I have to touch you down there as well."

"No Will. That's sex. I am not going to have sex before we are married."

"Well, I can't take you out on a date again then. It's up to you."

She did date me again. This time she agreed to come back to the room I was renting. I made sure my housemates were away. She was in my bedroom standing looking down at my bed. The room was immaculate. I knew how she felt about dirty things. "We can't go too far. Only what we agreed to." She stated.

I started to kiss her gently on the neck. When she responded after a while, I pulled her towards the bed until we were sitting on the edge. I took my time. I loved her build up, all the reluctance, all the times she said, "We shouldn't".

She reached a point when we were lying down, and she was really kissing me and grinding her body against mine. I let that go on as long as I could stand it. I knew I would have to cum first or it wouldn't happen. So, I shifted her over and pulled down my pants and underwear. She looked at it for a while then went and got some tissue and then started to gently stroke it. This time when she did it, she didn't look disgusted. She kind of stared at it with some fascination. I showed her how to adjust her grip. I asked her to rub my balls, which she did with a little complaint "It feels gross". She started stroking me faster, this time I didn't have to help her. She used one hand and held tissues in her other. "Let me know when you are going to!"

She was stroking me at a good pace. I whispered "Faster" a few times. I looked down at her hand, I looked at her face, she had a slight look of disdain. I was getting on edge. I held out to the last moment. "I'M GONNA CUM!"

She put the tissue over it and stopped stroking. "DON'T STOP." She stroked a few more times and I groaned and shot my load into the tissue. Even three tissues were not enough to avoid some mess.

"Oh Will, it's too much!" She complained.

I lay on my bed while she cleaned up with extra tissue. Then she threw one at me and told me to clean up and pull up my pants.

After she washed up in the bathroom she came back. She sat on the bed next to me. "Was that so awful?" I asked her. She answered by kissing me. For a while she kissed and grinded on top of me. For the first time I was comfortable and didn't have a massive erection. I started to unbutton her shirt.

She grabbed my hand and asked, "Do you have to?"

"Yes." I kept unbuttoning her shirt and then I took off her bra. I stared at those little mounds. Despite her protests her nipples were hard. I gently touched them with my fingers. Then I rolled her so that she was on her back. I lowered my mouth towards her breast and extended my tongue to contact the tip of one of her nipples. She whined a complaint as I rolled my tongue. I flicked one then the other as my hand roamed over her stomach and her jeans. I gently kissed one then the other and then I held one in my lips and gently pressed my tongue against it. I stopped and shifted up and kissed her on the lips for a while. Then my hand drifted down and started to unbutton her jeans.

"Can I keep my jeans on please?"

I stopped unbuttoning and slipped my fingers into the top of her jeans. It was tight but I slid them into her underwear and felt her wet pussy. It was soaked. My fingertips found her pussy lips through a thin layer of pubes, and I ran my fingers along them as best as I could in that tight space.

"Don't stick your finger in!"

"I won't." I assured her.

For a long time, I gently rubbed her as she lay back. I kissed her cheek and rubbed. I looked down at her nipples. I watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Somehow it was getting even wetter down there. I had never been with an 18-year-old girl. Mrs. Lasalle was so dry in comparison. My first girlfriend as well.

She turned slightly towards me and kissed me and tongued my lips. "More." she demanded. I pushed my hand farther and rubbed her patch with three fingers. "More." I rubbed her faster. My wrist was held down by her tight jeans and the movement of my hand was shifting her up and down. She arched her back and then started to shake. It was like extreme cold was gripping her and her body shook all over. Her head tilted back, and her eyes rolled. I felt movement against my fingers. I held them against her pussy and felt the convulsions. She moaned like a whimpering dog as I kissed her cheek. "Ah. Ah." She grabbed my arm and held still. I gently pulled my hand out. She lay breathing heavily for a while. I was looking at her nipples until she pulled her shirt over her chest. As she rolled away and got off the bed, I saw that her jeans were wet even from behind. As she left the room I looked for and found a wet spot on my bed sheet.

She came back into the room after a few minutes. I was sitting up and had put my shirt back on. She sat next to me. I looked at her face. She was crying.

"Why are you crying?"

"Oh Will. We shouldn't be doing this. What is the matter with us? We can't do this."

I was so messed up in my thinking and so enthralled by her I actually felt sad for her.

"Don't be sad. It's only natural."

"I feel like an animal." she said dejectedly.

"Before you met me, you must have touched yourself down there. Did you ever wake up from a dream feeling all wet down there?"

"Yes, but it's sinful. I try not to."

"We are just helping each other out. That is all. It's what two people do when they love each other."

She looked at me with a sudden happy look. "Do you? Do you love me?"

I was so whipped that I replied "Of course."

"Will you buy me a promise ring?"

"Sure. I guess."

She had one all picked out. Within the week I had gotten it for her and taken her to dinner and given it to her. For the next few months, we dated. She jerked me off whenever we could, and I rubbed her pussy eventually getting her to take off her pants but leave her underwear on. I placed a towel under her bed. After she left a wet stain on the passenger seat of my car, I started bringing a clean towel on our dates. Her orgasms continued to be awesome.

If I got her off first and if our date lasted long enough, I could reluctantly get her going again and make her cum a second time. Her second orgasm needed a much longer buildup than her first. To avoid her soaking her panties she would pull them down a bit and I would get a good look at her pubes and her tight little virgin vagina. Sometimes she would roll away or get up and I would see her smooth naked ass. Sometimes when I rubbed her pussy she lay beside me or straddled me and I was able to feel her ass with my other hand.

I complemented her ass once and she looked down all embarrassed. "You say the strangest things."

Spring turned to summer, and I tried to get her to move on to oral. She laughed the first time I suggested it. "That is what prostitutes do", she told me. I offered to do it to her, multiple times. I begged her to let me kiss it. We never did, and every time she jerked me, she held a tissue over it. Near the end of summer, I asked her to kiss it for my birthday.

"Just kiss it?"

"No, I want you to hold it in your mouth."

The day of my birthday, I pressured her again. She agreed she would after I took her to an expensive restaurant. Parked in my car she finally bent over and put her lips over the head of my cock. She held it in her mouth for a while. It felt mind blowing. I know I had plenty of prior experience, but this was Silvi and I had my cock in her mouth. She wanted to stop but I asked her to move up and down a bit.

"No way. You might shoot it in my mouth."