tagFirst TimeMy First Time

My First Time

byCFBwriter©

This story is fiction, though I did spend a night in a fraternity like this. My thanks to my editor, Wicked Inside.

*****

There is one event in my sexual history that is seared into my memory: every sensation, every feeling, every moment. I remember and relive it often, but I've never shared it before. It came up in a counseling session, and I was asked to write it down. So, here goes:

I was a sophomore engineering student at one of the universities that had a fraternity for everyone, so I had pledged to the engineering frat. I really didn't fit. The frat was dominated by a group that just wanted to party. I think they all grew up to be technical marketing and sales; I recognize the type. Anyway, there were parties a couple times a week where the primary entertainment for the nerds was watching the party guys try to get into the party gals. Literally. Somehow, fucking a woman too plastered to know what was going on (we didn't worry as much about permission in those days — being drunk at a frat party was sufficient) never appealed to me. I found the concept mildly repulsive, and it was my observation that the practice was rather sad and mutually degrading.

Not that I understood women or was some great lover. I was a definitely a nerd and still a virgin, though I would never have admitted it. On most party nights I worked in a lab or the library, because you couldn't do a thing in the house, and would return about 11PM for a couple of beers and to watch the endgame of the relentless Pursuit of Pussy.

On this one night, the remaining gals, who could barely remain upright, were nonetheless able to recognize the stairs and change direction when anyone tried to move them in that direction. It was funny for a while, but the prime "I always get my girl" Lothario was getting very frustrated, and I decided to go to bed before I had to witness outright rape.

My door, on the third floor, was ajar, but that was not that unusual. These guys didn't much care, when they had a prospect in tow, whose bed ended up with the wet spot. I locked the door behind me and flipped on the lights. There was a sort of snort behind me, and I jumped. Stretched out on my bed was one of the more beautiful women I had ever seen. She was on her back, snoring very lightly. Her black hair was in a "Dutch bob," with heavy hair spray holding it all in place. Well, made-up face, classical features, big bulky sweater, one arm up over her head, slacks, and mid-heel pumps. Legs and hips were slender and looked very good, but I couldn't make out much else through the sweater other than she was certainly not fat. Given that she was still dressed, I assumed she had come on her own to sleep off one too many. I briefly fantasized about the possibilities, given the normal morals around the place, but remained a gentleman.

I shook her gently. No response. I shook her hard. Still nothing. I knew I couldn't attract attention, or attempt to carry her out, as there was a pack of wolves downstairs just waiting for this type of opportunity. I shook her again, harder still. Still no response.

All of a sudden, I felt the raw, overwhelming attraction a predator must feel toward a helpless prey. I looked her over again hungrily. I had never been with a woman this lovely. I had no idea what to expect, what I would find if I explored. I wanted desperately to know.

"Not this way!" I told myself, out loud.

I noticed she had some mud on her shoes, and her shoes were on my sheets. To cover my conflict, I roughly grabbed her ankles and removed her shoes, one at a time. I tried tickling the sole of one of her feet. Her breath caught briefly, but then nothing.

Now what? My attention suddenly focused on an inch or so of her belly showing between her sweater and her slacks. Her belly-button showed. She was an "innie". I was suddenly hot with all of the unfulfilled sexual fantasies and desires of my young life. There was a fire in my groin. The predator came roaring back, and I was terrified.

I wanted her to awaken before I lost control. I shook her again. No response. That seemed to make up my mind for me. I turned on the desk light and turned off the overhead light, which was shining in her eyes. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at that thin strip of flesh. My breathing was fast and shallow. I was perspiring, despite the cold in the room. My heart was in my throat, and racing. I could feel an erection coming on. My mind was in panic: "Don't do this! This is not right! This is not you! No! You'll be caught and branded forever!" Every nerve was on edge, and in some sense I was more alive than I had ever been before in my life.

My hand wasn't listening to my brain. I watched in horror as my hand slowly moved to her belly. It hovered for a moment, and then slid down onto the exposed flesh, reaching just a fraction of an inch under her sweater. It held still, while I absorbed the sensations of the smoothness and warmth of that little patch of skin. Time stood still.

That small strip of exposed skin wasn't enough. As my mind screamed to pull back, my hand slowly pushed up under the sweater until it was all on her soft flesh. To make things worse, my thumb pushed down under the waistband of her slacks. In panic, I pulled my eyes away from my hand to look at her face. She still snored lightly and regularly, and had not moved as far as I could tell. I focused my ears on her breathing, to provide a warning, and focused the rest of my attention back on my hand. How was I going to get myself out of this?

I had touched a woman's skin before, but this was so different. I was in control. I had no permission; I was taking. I felt the predatory pressure building in me, and my erection growing. She was completely open and available to me, even if without her knowledge or intent. I was going to explode. And I was horrified by the thought that I was not yet ready to stop.

Suddenly, I needed to know what her breasts looked like. The bulky sweater hid everything other than the fact that they were there. I lifted my hand and her sweater with it. The sweater drew taught, and in the darkness under it I could just make out her bra. I got close for a better look and could smell her warm skin; I lost focus for a moment, and then forced my attention back to her breasts. I guessed the cups were about medium size. I needed a better view.

I lowered the sweater and checked that she had not moved. I kneeled on the bed and slipped my hands under each side of her waist. There was just a bit of room, and I slowly slid her sweater up her back as far as I could. I also pulled out a fold that had prevented me from lifting the front higher.

I knelt there looking at her for a moment. My mind had given up protesting and was now just hoping that she would wake up before I went too far. But she just lay there, breathing regularly. I took the hem of her sweater in both hands, and bunched it up as I slowly lifted it to her shoulders. I was mesmerized by the stolen view of her naked torso coming into view. I could feel my heart racing and hear my heartbeat in my ears louder than her snoring.

Her bra was translucent, filmy, the kind of sexy lingerie that I had seen only rarely, and that in Playboy pictures. I could just see the areolae and nipples through the material. I could see her chest rise and fall slowly. I could see every pore in her skin from her bra down to the waist of her slacks.

I gently tucked the sweater in across her shoulders, and then sat back and tried to control my own breathing. I straightened out my growing erection. I didn't just stare, I memorized every exposed square inch of her.

I needed to know what her breasts felt like. My mind was silently screaming "Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it!" as I shifted up the bed to sit next to her chest. I watched as my hand reached out across her to hover over the far breast. The hand drifted down to lie softly just below her breast, then slid up to cup it, though it was smaller than what my hand could hold. I didn't want to cover the nipple. I was holding my breath, and glancing furtively to her face to see if she was waking. Every sense was hyper alert.

Very lightly, I slid the pad of my thumb across her nipple and back again, feeling its shape through the thin material. I stopped for a moment as I forced myself to breath. I slid the thumb across the nipple again, pressing much harder. Her breath caught; her head shifted slightly to the side; and I froze in a panic. Before my eyes flashed every time I had been caught doing something I knew I shouldn't do, and I went from simple fear to full fight-or-flight mode. But her breathing settled back to its easy rhythm and she didn't move any further.

I fought my panic back down. Having escaped, you would think I would be smart enough to stop, but instead I felt emboldened. I ran my thumb back over her nipple. It was firmer and harder. I looked at it and could see it pushing against the thin, elastic, material. I drew a deep breath as my erection twitched. I bent over to kiss her closer breast, but stopped. What sense did it make to kiss a brassiere? I needed to touch and kiss her naked breasts.

I studied the bra. I slipped the fingers of both my hands under the bottom edge and tried to gently lift it. It didn't look like that would work very well. I had a flash of frustration, and then noticed that the bra had a fancy front clasp! A wave of relief, joy, and horror washed over me. There was the answer, but it represented a whole new level of involvement. In theory, at least, I might be able to get her sweater back down without her noticing if she started to awaken, but I could never get her bra re-fastened without her knowing it. My brain was now on fire with anticipation, while my conscience still tried to pull me back from the cliff.

Could I even refasten it at all? I'm an engineer; I ought to be able to figure it out. I gently grabbed each side of the clasp and gently twisted it, momentarily calmed by having a problem to solve. It popped open. I sat there frozen for a moment. I pressed the ends back together, twisting and pushing. For a panicked moment, it would not cooperate; then it snapped back together. I realized I had been holding my breath. I unhooked and re-hooked the bra a couple more times hoping I would not forget how if I had to do it in a hurry.

Now I sat there holding the two unhooked ends. I had a bad case of butterflies in my stomach, and my erection was starting to throb. I took a deep breath and slowly opened her bra like the doors to an enchanted room. Her breasts lay exposed to me. I let out my breath, and lay the bra to either side of her body.

For several moments, I just stared, memorizing everything about them. I cupped the far breast again, and again ran my thumb over the nipple. It rolled with my thumb, back and forth and around. It got very hard and tight, floating on the softness of the breast.

I bent down till my mouth hovered over the near breast; I could smell her skin, and it made me dizzy. I licked my lips, and gently placed my open mouth on the flesh around her nipple. I sucked gently, and her nipple and some of the flesh rose into my mouth. I gently pressed the nipple against the roof of my mouth and rolled it back and forth with my tongue, just a bit. I could feel it fill and harden against my tongue. It happened so fast. I was intoxicated and excited.

I slowly release the breast from my mouth. The breast remained in that pulled up shape with the nipple pointed high. I shifted and cupped both breasts. I explored gently, memorizing every sensation as I squeezed, rolled, stroked her breasts. My erection was full and pressed hard against my pants. I tried to ignore it.

As I completed my education on what her breasts felt like, my eyes drifted down her body. Suddenly, I needed to see, and touch, her pussy. I felt another rush of both fear and excitement. My erection throbbed harder in anticipation. I had already gone too far to recover if she woke up, so what did I have to lose? My conscience just moaned at my folly.

I shifted down the bed and studied her slacks. There was a zipper on the side. I slid it down very gently, and peeled the front of the slacks down. I could see one side of her panties, hip-huggers of the same filmy material as her bra. I could see a part of the top of her pubic hair through the material. (No one shaved back then.)

With one shaking hand, I lifted the top of the panties and pulled them down as far as the slacks would permit. The hair was pressed flat against her belly. With my free hand, I started picking at her bush, taking curls of hair between thumb and finger and pulling them up, very gently, fluffing the hair out. My face was close, and I could smell some of her musk. My breathing was still fast and shallow, and my erection was still throbbing in time with my rapid heartbeat.

I sat up and studied the situation. Could I pull her slacks down? How to do it? I had another engineering problem. I stood and lifted her knees up and back over her. That rotated her hips. I slowly worked her slacks down over her ass, watching her face to make sure she was still asleep. Finally, the back of the slacks were out from under her. My erection leapt for joy, and a now familiar wave of anticipation and fear swept over me. My conscience reminded me I was getting way too comfortable with this and she could awaken at any moment, but I paid no attention.

Her slacks were down around her knees quickly. I settled on the edge of the bed and studied her panties and the bush and slit only partly hidden by them. I eased the panties down slowly until they were stretched around her thighs just below her crotch. I went back to work "fluffing" her bush, and smelling her musk. I was deliberately putting off the next step, and the anticipation was so intense I could hardly breathe.

Something went bump in the hall, and I startled out of my focused concentration, jumping several inches, bumping my head on the top bunk. A fresh rush of adrenaline washed through me, and I was sweating so hard I had to wipe my face with my shirt. Nothing further happened in the hall, and I slowly got my body under control again.

I slid the panties down. There was a gap between her thighs just below her vulva, but not much room to see anything. The labia were full and pressed together. I needed to create more room. I slid slacks and panties down to her ankles and adjusted her legs so the knees were splayed out as far as I could manage on the narrow bed. I watched her face for a moment, and shook my head. I could not believe she had not yet awakened.

Here before me was the gold mine, the ultimate prize, the seeming whole point of existence, the Mother of us all. I stared. I knelt down by the bed where I could put my face close, one hand on her belly and one on her thigh. I breathed in her musk, with its predictable dizzying effect. I had long ago stopped thinking of her as a person. I ignored the risk I was taking, and memorized her untouched pussy.

It was wide between the tops of her thighs, wider than usual I realized years later. Her labia were obviously very full, and at the moment sealed to each other. There was a depression at the bottom of her slit. I slid my hand off her belly, over the pubic bone, and cupped her entire vulva in my hand. Soft flesh, backed up by hard bone. I have a large hand, but there was room on both sides of my fingers. I started stroking lightly from the mons down over the labia, petting her pussy, literally. She didn't move.

I noticed a drop of liquid form at the bottom of her slit and caught it on my finger. I rubbed it around between thumb and finger. It was definitely slippery, like my own cum. With my slightly wetted finger, I pressed gently into the hollow where her vaginal opening would be. The fingertip slipped in easily, and all of the flesh there was wet with her lubrication. I pulled the finger up, lubricating and separating her labia. It took a few strokes, returning to the well each time, to reach the top.

I slid my hand down again, this time sliding my middle finger between her labia, all but burying my finger between the two fleshy pads. I could feel a hard lump where her clit should be. The tip of my middle finger reached the wet depression and I curved it in and continued pressing. It slid right in. I stopped about an inch deep. I pinched the soft flesh of her labia between my fingers. I moved my whole hand around in little circles feeling all the details. I pressed my hand firmly against her, and felt her push back slightly with her hips. She had stopped breathing. I felt another rush of panic, but her eyes were still closed, and gradually her hips relaxed and her breathing resumed.

I had been playing, but now I needed to see my prize fully exposed and open to me before she awoke. I slid my hand back up and then down with fingers to either side of the slit. I spread my fingers, opening her to my sight. I worked my hand gently, pulling her lips wider and wider apart.

I dredged up some anatomy drawings out of memory. There was the small mound that should be the hood over her clit. With my free hand, I gently pulled up the flesh above, and briefly exposed that sensitive organ. Below that were the inner lips, now filling and extending beyond the outer lips a bit. I could actually see them growing. I very gently pulled on them to encourage their growth, and then gently spread them apart. There was the wet, red, vertical slit of her vagina.

I memorized all this, and in particular watched another drop of lubrication form at the bottom of her vaginal opening. With my free hand, I caught the drop and rubbed it very lightly around the opening. I pressed the tip of my finger to the center of the opening, and watched and felt it slide right in. Slowly, slowly, don't rush, don't waken her; I was again holding my breath. After a few moments, my finger was completely buried in her. My brain was on fire. My stomach was in a knot. My erection hurt, a lot!

Now what? I slowly moved my finger around inside her. In all directions, her flesh gave way but never lost contact with me. Surrender without retreat.

I couldn't believe how intensely this was affecting me. I had no right to be doing this, but I knew with absolute clarity that this was exactly where I belonged, one way or another, that this was "what it's all about!" I had arrived at the threshold of an awful and wonderful discovery. I was about to lose the last vestiges of childhood and become a man.

But not yet; not with her, here, like this. That final step would have to wait. I slowly withdrew my finger, watching it closely. I put it in my mouth and sucked it clean, tasting her for the first time. I was dizzy again with her taste and smell.

I stood and looked at her. Beautiful face, exposed breasts, belly, pussy, and thighs. My erection was pounding, in pain, and I needed release and I needed it now. I tossed my shirt aside, and took off my undershirt. I dropped my pants and skivvies down. My erection, my cock, had never been this large before. It bounced up and down in time with my still racing heart.

I gently wrapped my undershirt around my cock, as I had done so many times before. It was a little tawdry and inadequate, but under the circumstances was all I would allow myself. I grabbed my wrapped shaft and started a stroke. My hips jerked and I spasmed as almost electric shocks saturated my nervous system. The undershirt felt like coarse sandpaper, and I whipped it off and tried to bunch it in one hand so I could catch my cum.

Looking back at her nakedness, vulnerability, and beauty, I squeezed and stroked my cock as I imagined it sliding in and out of her just as my finger had done moments earlier.

I only needed a couple short strokes. I exploded, holding and squeezing myself over her open body. I tried to continue stroking, but the feelings were too intense and I jerked every time I tried to move. As the convulsions continued unabated, I lost focus, hearing, sight, knowledge of my own name, and my balance. I fell backwards, my hips landing on the edge of my desk. I had never had an orgasm this intense!

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