There was a girl, Diana, who ran with my group in the latter part of high school and early college years. A real intellectual, she was a very pretty redhead with a fantastic body, but, unlike ALL the rest of us, she remained a virgin through high school.
She had some sort of "medical condition" that prevented her from getting a drivers license, so I often ended up being the one who had to take her home, which was in a tiny rural town several light years from the big city the rest of us lived in.
When we asked what her problem was, she would say no more than, "It's a complex neural syndrome that is poorly understood." Other than her not fucking, she seemed perfectly normal, so we let it go at that and always enjoyed her company.
Though I went to a different college my freshman year, she went to the same university that most in our crowd went to, and started seeing my good friend Tom there that year. Suave operator that he is, they were dating and having sex in no time.
However, at the point of orgasm, she would have an incredibly strange experience, and though he said she was a good girlfriend and lover (he taught her everything she knew-ha!), he found those experiences—which occurred every time she climaxed—so disturbing that he broke up with her after just a few months.
Though he told me in detail about them, I'm intentionally saving the description for later in the story, so please read on.
My sophomore year I transferred to her university, and since we lived in the college town only a few blocks apart, I saw Diana occasionally, though not very often. We had known one another a long time and were friends, but not close friends. However, like clockwork, she would call me two weeks before school breaks for a ride home. Her sister lived near my parents, so it was convenient to drop her off there in lieu of driving to her parents' home in West Nowheresville.
The drive was a full day, so we always had lots of time to talk. Eventually, we came around to the topic of her medical condition. For the first time, she talked freely about it. Diana said she had an extremely rare condition, the most similar condition being epilepsy, though it was different, with an altogether different cause.
The thing that was similar was that she would have "seizures" of a sort resembling those of grand mal epilepsy. Only her seizures rarely gave forewarning, and the triggers for them were very difficult to establish. She said, though, that very emotional or exciting events would sometimes precipitate a seizure. I certainly had no trouble remembering Tom's description of these, but I politely said nothing about that and just listened.
The drugs that were prescribed to her to prevent the seizures were not at all specific, but rather central nervous system depressants that knocked her out to such an extent that she stopped taking them, regarding the treatment as worse than the seizures themselves.
I won't bore you with the scientific stuff, but I took several classes from a well-known professor of psycho-biology who specialized in this area, during that period of time. Turns out Diana was already working with him and his team, which had developed a more targeted drug treatment for her condition. She said the new experimental drug did not make her groggy, and she had not had a single seizure since using it.
We talked for a long time about all this, and I really enjoyed the conversation. Diana was a really brainy gal with excellent interpersonal communication skills. Even so, she was a bit formal in manner, and the fact that she always wore dresses just reinforced that. I never once saw her in slacks or jeans, and her dresses were very expensive and immaculately pressed and, well, "dressy."
So, during our drive, she, as usual, had on a dress. It's being the beginning of Spring Break and rather warm weather there in the South, she had on a beautiful cotton dress in a bright floral print, knee-length, with a halter style top. Naturally, my eyes drifted from the road to her eyes to her considerable cleavage and to the road and back to her cleavage ever so often.
We made excellent time on the road, and arrived at her sister's way ahead of schedule. My parents were not due to be home for another couple of hours, and Diana said her older sister was out of town and would not be back until the following day, when they would drive together over to their parent's farm.
After I pulled into the driveway, Diana gave me gas money and dug the keys to her sister's house from her purse and was about to say goodbye when she noticed the half joint still sitting in my ashtray that we'd never finished on the road, and suggested we go inside and do it up. Diana sure liked to smoke pot—other people's pot!
I had plenty more weed, and nowhere to be for a while, so doing a doobie sounded good to me. I was not dating anyone at the time, and she had not dated anyone in a long time. I was, therefore, even more horny than usual, and the thought of getting it on with Diana briefly crossed my mind, though that seemed about as likely as a meteor falling on my head.
I helped her with her luggage inside, and we made ourselves comfortable on the couch and fired up the j. Her sister's Persian cat was starved for attention, jumped up in Diana's lap, and began butting its head against her breasts, which didn't seem to bother Diana in the least. Didn't bother me either, and made me just that much more horny.
Before long, we began talking about our mutual friends and their current significant others, at which time I mentioned that I was not seeing anyone and it "had been a while." Diana said she knew what I meant, and very matter-of-factly said she "liked sex just as much as the next person."
She said this as though she was referring to French fries--straightforward and without the least bit of naughtiness. I badly wanted to jump her bones, but was not sure how I should respond to this. After all, I'd been nothing more than friends with her for three years, and her comment was flat neutral without even a hint of a come-on.
I screwed up my nerve, braced myself for a slap in the face, and, mimicking her matter-of-fact tone, said, "Well, I'm a 'next person'."
"You mean you and I have sex?" Diana asked, raising one of her slim red eyebrows.
"Well, yes. I'm not at all interested in Puss 'n Boots here," I replied, trying to relieve some of the tension.
She looked me straight in the eye, paused, and said, ever so casually, "Sure, that would be fine."
I could hardly believe my ears as her response ricocheted around in my head like a game of Pong on amphetamines. Momentarily paralyzed, I somehow managed to choke out, "Well, let's get naked." She dumped the cat on the floor, kicked off her heels, stood up, and proceeded to remove her clothes in the same ho-hum manner.
Unhurriedly, Diana untied the bow of the halter behind her head, unzipped the dress down the side, and let it fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, she removed her white panties, folded them and the dress neatly, laid them on the back of the couch, and just stood there with a faint smile, completely nude and silent. As she did this, I, too, undressed in like manner, neatly folding my clothes and placing them on the other end of the couch.
Wow!!! Was Diana ever dy-no-mite! Sure, I'd seen her cleavage many a time (957 times that very day, to be precise) but that was it, and I was reminded in a most delicious way that in all the time I'd known her, I'd never seen any part of the rest of her big boobs, her legs above the knees, or any part of her mid-riff. No, she'd never been seen in a swimsuit or shorts, always donning an expensive dress at even the most casual of functions. She was a voluptuous beauty, made all the better due to her body having been hidden from view for so long.
My eyes roamed all over her. What was her best part? Hell, all of them were in a dead heat! She had thick red hair, falling to just below her shoulders, which framed a face of timeless perfection. Very fair skinned with a few freckles, her hazel eyes shined brightly over an aquiline nose situated over smooth red lips and a natural white smile no orthodontist could possibly improve. A Greek in 400 BC would have found her face just as pretty as any modern man.
Though of average height, she was not of average build, with "proportionate" being the key word here. Everything went perfectly with everything else. Her 36D breasts would have looked oversized had her shoulders and arms not matched them, and the nipples and small diameter areolas, with nary a bump, were the same color and just as smooth as her lips. Diana had obviously avoided the sun, the freckles evenly distributed all over her fair skin, even on the tops of her luscious, lily-white breasts.
Her waist flared dramatically inward, but she was not skinny, having a lovely cushion of compound curves around her tummy, punctuated by the enticing vortex of her deep navel. Below, soft hips flared back out like a Michelangelo sculpture, but nothing obscured from view her red pubes, growing not quite bushy enough to conceal a deep crease from Pussyland extending up into a bulging mons. Incredibly smooth legs tapered to small, arched feet, the nails painted deep red to match the polish on the long nails of her exquisitely manicured hands.
In a word, she was beautiful, and we were about to enjoy the pleasures of sex. And all I had to do for it was ask politely!!!
Normally, when I've got the sexual green light, I waist no time, but it was different that day with Diana. We just stood there for like 5 minutes gazing at each others' nude bodies. I slowly stepped over to her and gently kissed her lips as I ran my fingers through her soft, thick red hair. She kissed back ever so lightly while softly tracing her nails through my own hair.
Since I was much taller than she, my fully erect penis was rubbing on her velvet-soft tummy while I introduced my tongue into the kissing. She responded with her agile tongue, though still kissing extremely gently. She was a great kisser, and I increased my lip pressure and pace. Again, Diana responded in kind, reciprocating to my actions by kissing back harder. I slid my hands down to her buns, squeezing them and massaging them. No tiny butt, her proportionately ample buns were nevertheless shapely, soft, and so smooth. Accordingly, she squeezed my buns at the same time as we continued to French kiss.
I was thrusting my tool ever more vigorously on her stomach, her lovely belly button so deep and soft it was not unlike a pussy, and most girls would have by then taken hold of a hard cock to play with. But I could see already that Diana was not like most girls. Where I led, she would surely follow, but she did not initiate anything. How very interesting. Not exactly a bad thing, but very different, for sure. I supposed this is how my friend Tom who had dated her had taught her to be. OK, fine. I would be the actor-director of this scene of Sex at Sister's, and Diana would be the oh-so-compliant actress.
I sat on the edge of the couch and pulled Diana to stand in front of me so I could easily play with her magnificent boobs. So soft, so pliable, they draped from her chest with just the right "pendulosity," though someday the inexorable forces of gravity would surely pull them too far down, but that was twenty years hence.
I squeezed, petted, and kissed them, burying my face in their softness. Though her nipples were not perma-pokies, as soon as I licked and sucked them, they pointed up rigid and hard, absorbing nearly all the surrounding quarter-size areolas. She made a barely audible cooing sound.
I steered her down to her knees and placed my cock between those delightful orbs, but she did not squeeze them around my shaft until I took her hands in mine and showed her what to do. Once I showed her what to do, without hesitation, she expertly titty-fucked me.
You would think a girl would just take it upon herself at that point to suck me, but, again, I had to tell her what to do. Dutifully, she did just what I said. "Lick it up and down." And she did. "Put it in your mouth." And she did. "Suck on it." And she did. "Harder." And she did. "Put it in deeper and go all the way down and back." And she did. She did all this quite well, but I had to direct every bit of the action. Different, but still great.
I lay her back on the couch, spread her legs, and placed her feet on my shoulders. I was ready to go down on her, but took a moment to enjoy her wonderful feet. I don't think she had ever gone barefoot, as they were so incredibly soft and fleshy, so I nibbled and massaged them while I played with her boobs. All the while she looked me straight in the eye, hardly blinking, waiting attentively for my next instruction.
Her red pubes were very soft, too, not like typical, wiry pubic hair, and it was also not nearly so curly as is usually the case, so I was able to easily part it to expose her pussy and savor the sight of its beauty. Her pussy lips were so much like her facial lips, medium thick, and the same russet color. Though her bush, like the hair on her head, was particularly dense, it did not grow real close to her labia or clit, so I was able to lick and suck them with very little interference. It was easy to peel the hood back from her swollen little clit, which I nibbled and sucked with relish. Like before, she made a barely audible coo as I did so.
Her pussy quickly became very wet, and I introduced a finger, then another, then another into her vagina as I continued the lick-sucking ministrations on her clitoris for quite a long time. Her cooing became faster paced, but was still barely audible. Her pussy was just the right size for me, a little bigger than average, and I bent her legs further back and spread them wider before rubbing my cock up and down between her lips and across her clit.
Though I was aching to enter her, I decided to keep that rubbing action up until she herself could wait no longer and would guide me in. Never happened. I fully believe I would still be there doing that had I not put it in her myself. At least I got a new sound a bit louder out of her, as she gasped upon my entry. At first, I fucked her very slowly and deliberately, taking long, deep strokes as she breathed in unison, watching her wonderful breasts heave up and down, up and down.
Gradually, I picked up the pace, and I must say, her pussy felt as good as any I'd ever been in. I began to thumb her clit as I thrust away, and her cooing became ever so slightly louder and faster. Then the weirdest thing ever happened.
Her green eyes, up until now so wide and bright, began to roll back beneath her lids. They'd disappear for a moment, then reappear, then disappear again a little longer, until they were completely out of sight, at which point her lids began to quiver, then gradually her whole body, too, until she began to shake quite violently. Sounds from the depths of hell emanated from her mouth, loud and hideous--absolutely freakish!
I remembered what Tom had told me about her. What should I do? Apparently, this was one of those "emotional triggers" that, despite her new medication, precipitated a seizure. Should I keep fucking her or stop? I stopped for a moment, but her reaction continued unabated. She was flailing about and hellish sounds that reminded me of those from The Exorcist were bouncing off the walls.
Though I had been on the brink of cumming, this scene had put the kibosh on that. I continued to pound her while carefully observing her. She appeared to be cumming, with the distinct look of sexual ecstasy on her face, but it was like no other orgasm I'd ever witnessed. Then, she made an eardrum-splitting shriek, and, but for her heavy breathing, just lay there perfectly still with her eyes now closed. I grabbed her big tits, pushed them together, buried my head in the canyon of cleavage, and pumped her warm and wet pussy hard and fast, concentrating with all my might, and finally exploded inside her in a strange concatenation of anxiety and pleasure.
In fifteen minutes—the longest fifteen minutes of my life—she finally "came to," opening her eyes and looking lost. She looked at me—naked—looked down at herself—naked—then ran a hand down to her cum-filled pussy and back to her nose. I could tell that she was only at that moment figuring out what had been occurring.
"Are you OK, Diana?"
"I'm fine, just fine. How are you?"
"Well, I'm fine, thank you. It's you I'm worried about, Diana. I think you had a seizure. Is there anything I can do?"
"No. Yes, I did have an episode (she never referred to them as "seizures"), but I never remember anything afterward. The only way I can tell is from evidence left over. We're both nude, your penis is half erect, and there's sperm leaking out of me, so I can see we had sex. It's the first time I've had sex since being on the new meds, and like before, it looks like it's still an episode trigger. I've had one every time I've had an orgasm. I've been told it's kind of freaky, so I apologize. Episodes cause retroactive amnesia. The last thing I remember is giving you gas money in your car; everything that happens the half hour or so before an episode is a total blank."
That was the one and only time I had sex with Diana, and to think Tom endured her seizures for the entire three months he dated her is impossible for me to fathom. Let's hope medical science came up with a drug that enabled her to climax without triggering a seizure.
I 'm still puzzled that Diana said she "liked sex just as much as the next person," as she would have no memory of the experience. I suppose Tom told her she appeared to being enjoying sex, so she took his word for it!