Carol's Introduction to Sex

Carol's introduction to the backseat.

I was introduced to sex, like many girls, in the backseat of a car.

My parents were stringent, which did more harm than good. Believe it or not, my dates in high school consisted of my father driving us to a movie and then picking us up.

I turned eighteen in October of my senior year. The only boy I had made out with was Bob Wilson, whom I had known since grade school. He was a year older than me, and I adored him. While kissing in the movies, I had allowed him to squeeze my ripening breasts. He was a little rough. But when his lips brushed, then sucked my tender nipples, it felt so good I could feel it in my pussy. Emboldened by the darkness of the theater, I spread my legs slightly. I was able to sneak my hand between my legs and stroke my pussy gently. I couldn't stop touching myself, and with an audible groan, I experienced my first orgasm.

I thought he was a god. He had made my tits feel so good.

He left for college the next morning. I cried for two days after he drove away. I vowed I would not date anyone while he was gone.

I remained true to my word, but I heard stories about him with girls at college; foolishly, I didn't believe them. He stopped calling, saying he was busy with schoolwork, and I believed him. I was a love-struck girl, and no one could convince me he was a bum. The recurring story was that he lived with a divorced woman in her thirties.

I couldn't imagine my guy with a woman that old; what could they have in common? Yes, I was that innocent.

He called to say he would be home for Christmas, and I couldn't wait to see him. I had a feeling he was going to want to have sex, so I was a little nervous, not knowing what to expect.

He came over on Christmas Eve, bringing a present. After we held each other and lightly kissed, his hands traveled over my butt. I moved his hand and told him to take it easy. He knew my sister was the only one home, and she was up in her bedroom on the phone.

Bob suggested we go into the family room. We sat close together on the couch; he turned my head and kissed me hard; our mouths opened, and our tongues found each other. I could smell beer on his breath; he was rougher than I remembered as he rammed his tongue into my mouth.

The trouble was that I had imagined a romantic night in which he would be gentle and kind, and after we kissed and touched each other, I would give myself to him.

The problem was that he acted like a jerk, and I was not in the mood. We relaxed briefly, and he announced he would get a beer out of the refrigerator. I had on a wrap-around skirt that had a habit of flapping open. I looked down; both legs were exposed, almost to my waist, not that you could see anything. I was wearing solid brown pantyhose and, under them, black panties, but I still felt vulnerable.

He returned with the beers. I took a sip of mine and put it down. I don't like to drink. My mother had warned me about guys getting girls drunk so they could do things to them. But I knew Bob wasn't like that.

He sat down, our legs touching. He picked up my bottle and brought it to my lips.

"Come on, Carol, drink up; it's Christmas."

"Can't we just talk? I don't feel like drinking."

I was annoyed; I knew what he wanted. He had a spoiled brat look on his face. Standing up, he headed for the door, saying.

"You can talk to yourself. I'm going out and get drunk; call me when you grow up."

I found I was crying myself to sleep again because of him. I wouldn't give in to him the way he was treating me. I hadn't opened my gift yet; I was tempted to throw it in his face.

I sat on my bed, broken-hearted. I had expected something completely different. Let him live with his "older woman" I didn't care.

I ran up to my room and flopped back on my bed. I lay in the darkness, feeling sorry for myself as my hand strayed to my crotch.

I slipped my hand under my pantyhose, then my panties. My finger parted my soft folds and found my clit, massaging it carefully. Just a light pressure from my fingers started sparks flying. It felt so good. Why did guys have to be such jerks?

I had been ready to give my body up tonight, and Bob ruined it. I felt my muscles tighten up, and I shuddered with a strong orgasm; I lay there, spent, my hand slick with my juice.

I licked and sucked my fingers clean, wondering what the guy's cum tasted like?

I was definitely having a "pity" party for myself. I was eighteen and, by all standards, "Hot," and I didn't have a date for the holidays.

I didn't hear anything from Bob; after three days, I didn't expect I would ever again, and once I resigned myself to that fact, I felt better.

My mind drifted to Pete, our next-door neighbor. I knew he had a crush on me but was immature, even though he was one year older than me. I felt like he was a kid compared to me. He had asked me out a couple of times, but only jokingly. He was never expecting a serious answer. I was able to get away without saying no and hurting his feelings.

I looked out the window, checking if his car was there. His parents had gone out with mine, so I knew he was alone. My thoughts went to his older brother, Jack. I prayed he would be there. He was twenty-two, and I've had a crush on him for as long as I can remember.

I would walk over and hopefully get my ego stroked and maybe something else.

But there was only one car in the driveway. I was sure Pete was the only one in the house.

I was definitely out of his class. With my angelic face framed with shoulder-length blonde hair. My boobs filled my thirty-two "c" cups nicely. I probably should have a "d" cup; sometimes, my boobs looked like they were going to overflow my bra.

But my most striking feature is my legs. I'm five feet seven inches, and I'm all legs. I wore three-inch heels to my prom and towered over my date. I must have fed his inferiority complex because I never heard from him again.

I wanted to look nice but not send a message. I wanted romance. I chose a pleated black skirt that reached my knees. I didn't want to wear tights; they were too dark. I wanted to display my perfect legs. I needed male approval, even if it was from a loser.

I had no appropriate pantyhose; they were too confining, so I entered my mother's room.

She was like me, very feminine, always wearing skirts and heels. I was taller, and it bothered her.

I checked her underwear drawer. The only off-black nylons she had were sheer hold-up stockings. I felt daring and took them. I noticed my mother had a collection of garter belts. It got me to wonder when she wore them and for whom. I had always been intrigued by regular stockings and garter belts, but I thought you would wear them to please your husband on special occasions.

I slipped into the stockings. They were soft and almost reached my butt cheeks. I decided to wear a red Christmas sweater my aunt had sent me. It was a little tight, but the bra I wore was full coverage, so my jiggling was kept to a minimum.

No spike heels for me. I saw a pair of four-inch stilettos in my mother's closet and left them there; I had a pair of two-inch heels. They were sexy without making me tower over guys. I didn't want him to get any ideas. Guys think that if a woman wears nylons and high heels, they want sex. I realize that is probably true sometimes, but not tonight.

I teased my hair, checked my makeup, and headed next door.

Standing on his porch, I could hear the sound of a video game being played. I wondered if this was a mistake. The night air was cooler, and then I realized I should have worn a jacket. My nipples were clearly visible through the thin material. Pete was calling out that he was on the way. Opening the door, looking shocked, he said.

"Are you locked out, Carol? I'll get the spare key."

"No, Pete, I came over to visit, but if you are busy?"

"No, I'm just gaming with Robbie. His mother just dropped him off."

My mind was reeling. These guys are nineteen, and their mothers are dropping them off to play video games.

We went downstairs to his finished basement. Robbie looked up and stammered, "Hi." I nodded to him, feeling like I had to leave. This was just too sad.

"Do you want something to drink, Carol? Just let me vaporize Robbie, and I'll get you something."

He went back to their game. I thought these guys were never going to get laid.

I got up and walked over to a stack of DVDs. It was the usual guy videos. I was moving a stack of movies to see if there was something I could take home with me. Then I hit his secret stash.

All triple x stuff. There must have been twenty or more. The girls on the covers all looked the same: blondes with teased-up hair and big boobs. What intrigued me the most was that they had on stockings and heels. I sorted through them. There were several videos of girls with big dicks in their mouths. I imagined hard, dripping cocks surrounding me. My hand drifted to my crotch, which was starting to tingle. It wouldn't be hard to sneak a couple of movies out of his house and watch them at my leisure. I jammed two in my small bag when I was sure they were distracted.

Walking back into the game room, I noticed the game they were playing was set in the distant future, where the men were fighting over the few women who could have babies. The girls all had impossible figures with huge bosoms that didn't need support while they were running around in high heels and G-strings. I must admit that the graphics were excellent. The women were mostly on their knees, cowering and looking to men for their safety and breeding rights. I was getting hot between the thought of those videos and the game they were playing.

I identified with one of the heroines. She was blonde and needed a man badly, like me.

But these two morons were too busy gaming. I felt myself getting wet. I had sunk into a chair, my skirt riding up almost to my stocking tops. I noticed Robbie elbowed Pete to look at my legs. A show of legs and nylons was typically enough to get something going from men, but not from these two.

After being ignored, I got up and told Pete I was leaving. He said, "OK, see you," I headed for the door.

Talk about a bruised ego. But I deserved it for treating him like I had over the years. He didn't think he had a chance with me and was tired of me saying no. So he had just given up.

I got in bed, still dressed, and opened my laptop, inserting one of the movies.

I was surprised that the quality was quite good. It had a popular plot: a woman willing to do anything to save her husband's job. And, of course, his boss was fat and sleazy. After a couple of minutes of dialogue, she was on her knees sucking his huge dick; he would hold her head, forcing her to deep throat him. Making her gag violently while he was smearing pre cum and spit over her pretty face.

I was so hot that my hand went straight to my aching pussy fingering myself. Thanks to the magic of movies, the next scene showed her in just a garter belt, black nylons, and heels, taking it doggy style. After getting screwed for ten minutes, he was ready to cum. Of course, the boss pushed her down, on her knees, getting ready to cum on her face, and she was begging for it. He covered her face and tits with an unbelievable amount of cum. She was happy saving her husband's job that when another man walked in, she sucked him off too. The scene ended with her on her knees, smiling, with cum dripping from her nose onto her tits.

I lie back on the bed, fingering myself until I exploded with an intense orgasm. I Imagined being surrounded by horny guys all waiting their turn, their dicks dripping with pre-cum.

I was confused. I always thought having sex was supposed to be between two people in love.

I watched some more and even went online. I was being careful to stay away from questionable sites.

Between the videos and online porn, I came to the belief that women had to do just about everything to have sex.

From dressing sexy to sucking dicks and either swallowing cum or getting it sprayed on your face. I wondered why my mother never said anything about it. I knew one thing; I needed to feel a dick in my mouth.

It was Friday, and Christmas break was almost over; it was back to school on Monday.

I went out around one o'clock, and as I got into my car, a strange car pulled into the driveway of Pete's house. It was his older brother, Jack.

"Is that little Carol? You're all grown up."

He jumped the fence and jogged over to me.

I had a tight sweater on that hid nothing. Just to be sure, I stood up straight and pulled my shoulders back, emphasizing my boobs. He hugged me, mashing my tits against his rock-hard chest. He stood back shamelessly, staring at my packed bra.

"You really have grown up. I used to think skinny little Carol would never fill out."

I was blushing beet red.

"Hey, I'm not fat."

"No, you're just right. Let's go for a ride and catch up."

He didn't have to ask twice. How can two brothers be so different?

We stopped at a coffee shop.

I was surprised we really hit it off, I was talking non-stop, and besides the fact he was staring at my boobs, he seemed to be having fun. We spent the afternoon together, driving nowhere in particular. He asked me if I wanted to go out tonight. He said some fraternity brothers were going to a bar outside of town. I said yes, way too fast. He moved closer to me, holding my head and lightly kissing me on the lips. I kissed him back, my pussy tingling.

He broke our kiss and said,

"Pick you up at eight."

I was so turned on that he could have told me to do anything, and I would have.

"I'll be waiting."

Again, I sounded so desperate.

There was an open bottle of wine in the kitchen. I was as nervous as I ever had been. I poured a glass and gulped it down. It was sweet, and I added some ice cubes; it was better cold.

Now I had to figure out what to wear. During the week, I ordered some underwear online, not too racy but not old lady stuff either.

I settled on a leather skirt that fell below my knees but had a walking slit that almost reached my rear end.

I tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to let my sister know what I was doing.

I needed to look as grown-up as possible; these guys would be at least twenty-three or older. There was a pair of shiny black four-inch heels. I slipped them on and took a step. I was happy they were easy to get used to, and to my surprise, I didn't feel like I would fall on my face.

The wine hit me hard; I convinced myself I would give my virginity to Jack.

I was pretty confident that I had learned enough from watching porn to at least get started.

Halfway through my second glass of wine, I decided this was something that I wouldn't have done sober. I guess that's why guys like girls drunk.

I returned to my mother's room and headed for her lingerie drawer. Pulling out a black garter belt and a package of sheer black stockings, I returned to my room feeling giddy.

Sitting at my vanity, hooking my bra, I noticed it wasn't as full coverage as it appeared online. My "C" cups barely contained my youthful, firm boobs. The matching black panties were the same, covering half of my ass cheeks. I wondered if I was creating a situation that would harm me.

The lace garter belt fit perfectly, and I slid my stockings high on my long legs and clipped them to my garter clasps. I felt naughty and let my hand stray to my pussy, just running my fingers down there lightly. It was like my body was on fire.

I gulped another glass of wine. Looking back, it was a wrong decision, but my raging hormones were controlling my actions.

Fussing with my makeup, I was afraid I went too heavy with the dark eye shadow, but I wanted to look grown up.

A couple of minutes before eight, the doorbell rang. I finished my glass of wine and hurried to the door, my heels slowing me down.

He stepped back, smiling.

"You look hot, Carol. Your car awaits you."

He opened my door, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at my exposed legs and shimmering nylons. He jumped in, and I drew my legs up, sitting sideways, facing him. He moved as much as he could, leaning over to me, and kissed me a little harder than I expected, his tongue finding mine. I couldn't help myself. My pussy was on fire. He broke off and started driving. I was so hot that I would have screwed him right there.

He said there had been a change in plans, and we were going to one of his friends' homes. I was a little nervous; I didn't know any of them; they were older than me. He could see I was nervous, then added, "I've got an idea."

"Why don't we take a ride up to the lake? I even brought some rum and Coke in a Thermos."

"Sure, that sounds fun." I blurted out. I was scared, and I'm sure he picked up on it.

It was only a twenty-minute drive, and I was drinking all the way.

We backed into a space overlooking the lake, with a full moon to seal the deal.

He got out, coming to my side and opening the door.

"We can sit and watch the stars. There's plenty of room with the seat down."

I couldn't argue with him. It was the largest SUV I had ever seen.

I was lying on my back. The liquor was taking effect, and my head was swimming. He started kissing my lips and then my neck, at the same time, running his hands over my sensitive boobs. He deftly unbuttoned my top, my firm tits coming into view. While he teased my nipples, I was in heaven and losing control. I was having trouble focusing on what he was doing to me. It felt so good that I didn't object when he pulled my cups down. And attacked my nipples; covering my boobs with kisses, he certainly knew what to do.

He trailed his tongue down my belly licking and sucking. He sat up and said,

"Let's get your skirt off."

I didn't object, lifting my hips, making it easier to pull my skirt off. I knew there was no stopping him now. I was conflicted. I wanted him to stop, I was scared, but at the same time, I was so turned on. Once off, his eyes widened, and he looked at my legs.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered. "I can't believe you're wearing stockings.''

"I smiled. I wore them just for you. Do you like them?"

"I've never been with a girl that wears them."

I was definitely hot and ready for sex. But I was sort of backing out.

I put my hand on him, trying to slow him down.

I've never done this before. Do you have a condom? What if I get pregnant?"

He smiled and gently kissed me, saying.

"You can't get pregnant the first time you have sex."

At the same time, he was lying to me; he slipped his fingers under my panties, probing my wet slit. I reluctantly gave in.

"I guess we can try it; just don't hurt me."

In answer to that, he pulled my panties off and laid on top of me, grinding his pelvis against mine.

I was uneasy. He had this crazed look on his face.

He looked down at me as a tear ran down my cheek. You're going to have the best for your first time. You won't want anyone else."

How romantic, I thought. I soon found out guys only want to get their dick in you. That lovey-dovey crap only works in the movies.

I took another drink, hoping to ease any pain.

He laid on top of me. I could feel his dick jabbing at my warm pussy. Gone was the foreplay. I opened my legs as he inched his way into my pussy. Between his pre-cum and my juice, he slid in. But it felt like he was tearing me apart. After the initial pain subsided, I started getting a little pleasure from his dick. I wrapped my nylon-covered legs around him. But after only a minute, his face contorted as I felt his cum squirt deep inside of me. I felt his limp dick leave me as he rolled off.

Wow! That was it? It hurt and felt good simultaneously, but it certainly wasn't as long as in those videos. And I never came close to an orgasm. I sat up, my thighs sticking together. He lit a cigarette. I had no idea he smoked, and I didn't like it.