My First Time Ch. 02

My First Time Ch 02

This is a contribution to the Survivor Revival Challenge, organized by Tara Cox. My first eleven stories were called My Junior Year Abroad. Next up was the little story, "Why I love Wives." This is my fourteenth story in the Survivor Revival Challenge. I hope you like it.

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Sam, Don Juan, Eric, and what about Melissa's brother?

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Nota Bene: The "first time" in this chapter refers to the first time Melissa gets it on with her old high school boyfriend Eric.

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Sam and I became a couple, and everyone always saw us together. Sam was obsessed with fucking me, and after around ten times at missionary position, we began to try out other positions, such as doggie style, and cowgirl.

Sam kind of loved it when I was on top, bouncing on his cock, and he got to watch my boobs bounce, too. He took lots of pictures with his iPhone, which made me nervous, but back then I was more reckless than nervous.

His roommate, Juan, known behind his back as Don Juan, made an irregular habit of sneaking into the room to watch Sam and me fuck. Somehow, he always managed to do it in such a way that while I saw him spying, usually from the bathroom, Sam never noticed Juan there. It always turned me on when he watched. I knew that was weird, but it was what it was.

Sam also wanted to fuck me outdoors. I think he was kind of hoping we'd be discovered, and someone would see us, me naked and with Sam's cock buried inside me. I stopped that idea cold. We'd fuck, and then we'd rest, and then I'd suck Sam off until he was hard, and we'd fuck again. That meant that, every night we fucked like that, which was almost every single night, I didn't have the time nor the energy to do my schoolwork.

Freshman year was hard. I grew up in a small town in Indiana, and I was competing with students who had gone to prep schools, or to super well-funded public schools in the rich suburbs of cities like Chicago and Cleveland. I had to work extra hard just to be below average. With all this sex, I just didn't have the time or the energy to put in all the schoolwork I needed to do.

It came to a head, and I had to choose: Survive my freshman year academically, or have constant sex with Sam. I chose the former. I explained it all to Sam, and we began to have sex less frequently. We still had sex three and occasionally four times a week, just not every day, you know?

Sam reacted in the way I thought he would. It was unfortunate, because I had come to really like him, and not just as a sexy boy-toy, but as a wonderful man and boyfriend.

Anyway, Sam strayed. Sam strayed big time, and I got pissed. Don Juan of course saw what was happening in real time, and he knew that this was his chance to lay me, if he played his cards right. Don Juan always played his cards right. After all, I was his cute little object of desire.

Don Juan had laid many a girl prettier than me, and many a girl sexier than me. So, what was special about me? What was special was that I was Sam's girl, and Don Juan loved, absolutely loved, seducing other guys' girls. Maybe he thought I was also pretty and sexy? I'd like to hope he did. We had gotten to know each other of course, since I was the girl of his roommate, and maybe he also liked me? You know, it sounds corny, but maybe he actually liked me as a person, and not just another potential conquest? I knew I liked him. The main factor, though, was that I was Sam's girl; that's what made him want me.

Sam was straying, and I knew it. Sam had been seduced by this pretty little slut, a girl by the name of Christine. She had long blonde hair, and absolutely huge boobs. Sam had always liked my boobs, but they were B cup boobs, maybe C cups on a good day. I couldn't compete with Christine, the bimbo slut, and dammit all, I knew it. Don Juan knew it, too.

He picked his time well. I had gotten tipsy having drinks with my best friend Mary, who was giving me sympathy about the fact that Sam and Christine were destined to get it on, that very night. I went back to my room, and I was sexiled again, as my roommate was fucking her own boyfriend silly. I could hear her moans right through the door. I sat down on the cold floor outside my own dorm room, and whimpered into my wine cooler. How pathetic is that? That was the moment for Don Juan to strike, and he did.

He saw me there, instantly figured out what was happening, and sat down on the floor next to me. He brushed away my tears, and in a quiet and loving tone, told me -- convincingly -- how wonderful I was. He explained to me that this always happened to first blush Freshman romances. He held me, he stroked my hair and he comforted me. He convinced me we should move from the cold floor, and he led me to his room, which was of course Sam's room in fact (since they were roommates), and he put a tie on the door. Now Sam himself was sexiled!

Good! That way my son-of-a-bitch boyfriend would be sexiled and not be able to lay that tramp Christine in his bed, the same bed in which he was laying yours truly! I was perversely thrilled. Of course, Sam and Christine, seeing the tie, would simply go to Christine's room to have sex, and in fact, I gained very little; but Don Juan nevertheless was making me feel better, and reviving my self-respect.

At one point, as we sat on Juan's small, twin bed, he brushed away my tears, our heads were close together, and we kissed. It just seemed the natural thing to do. My big weakness is kissing. I quite simply love kissing, and if a guy kisses well, it seems to be a way to my heart. It also seems to be, in the final analysis, a direct route to my panties, if you know what I mean.

Juan and I sat on his bed kissing for the longest time, and when we broke for air, two things were readily apparent: Juan was hard (and large, too!), and I was wet in the area men like a girl to be wet. Juan looked at me, his eyes gently searching mine, probing for something. He found it (I have a rather transparent face), and he proceeded to undress me. He began with my T shirt, and I even lifted my arms to help.

Seeing my cooperation, Don Juan next expertly removed my bra. I say expertly, because I was wearing one of my more complicated bras. It was complicated but it really made my boobs pop. A lot of good that did, too, since Sam was off pursuing the sexual delights of Christine-the-trollop.

My yoga pants were next, and sure enough, still while kissing me, he seemed to effortlessly roll them down. At one point, it was decision time: My hips on the bed were a clear obstacle, and it would have been simple to stop the progression of clothing leaving my body fairly easily at that point. What did I do? When Juan asked me to raise my hips, up in the air they came, and off went my yoga pants. Somehow, Juan -- clever molester that he is -- took my panties off together with the yoga pants. Yep, I was now naked.

Juan announced it was picture time. I replied no, thank you. He said he wanted one just of my back, like an Ingres painting or something. Luckily, I had just studied Ingres in my art history class, so I knew what he was talking about. I lay on my side and Juan got his camera to photograph my naked backside. He snapped a couple and then there was a knock on the door. The voice behind the knock indicated it was an agitated, impatient Sam.

"Let's have some fun. I'll bet Sam won't be able to tell that it's you, from only your naked backside. Cover your head with this pillow. He'll see your back, ass, and legs, and he'll salivate at the unknown naked beauty in my bed, and then I'll yell at him for interrupting my seduction," Juan said.

"What if he realizes it's me?" I asked, quite reasonably, I thought.

"He won't," Juan said.

"But if he does?" I asked.

"If he does, you turn over and scream at him, naked, and vent your anger. But it's not going to happen," Juan said. "Only I study everything there is to know about a beautiful woman like yourself. Sam is only interested in how his cock feels when it's inside you."

"That's not true!" I said, feeling the need to defend that asshole Sam; really, however, I felt I was defending myself. I couldn't possibly have fallen for a man as shallow as the one Juan was sketching with his forked tongue.

"Youre so beautiful," was Juan's reply, as he gazed upon my naked backside.

Okay, I know when I'm being bull-shitted. I'm nice looking sure, but I'm not beautiful, and anyone with an IQ higher than 80 can tell that! I had to admit, though, it sounded like a fun experiment. "Okay," I said, and I assumed the position, with a pillow over my head, waiting for the explosion when Sam accused his roommate Juan of molesting his own girl, namely me!

I was facing away from the door, and towards the wall, when Sam opened the door.

"Hi Sam, Hi Christine. Didn't you see the tie on the doorknob? I'm kind of busy now," I heard Juan say.

"Well what the fuck are you ... oh!" Sam said.

"Come on, Sam. Juan has a girl in here. Quite a looker, too, I'd say," Christine said. She actually sounded insecure!

"Christine, you're beautiful. But yes, as you can see, I'm kind of busy right now with this delicious woman. We'll be busy for a long time. All night, if I'm lucky. Sorry Sam," Juan said.

"Christine is also sexiled. We have nowhere to go," Sam moaned. I secretly smiled when I heard that.

"There's usually nobody at the library around this time of the evening," Juan nastily offered.

"Juan Pulido, you nasty, nasty man!" Christine exclaimed. Then she nervously giggled. Juan was right: the library would be empty, especially because I was not there! That is, if they went to the Art & Architecture library! Juan didn't add that little detail, probably because he's never been to any of the libraries. Well, not my problem, I thought, evilly.

"She really is beautiful. You know, your girlfriend looks like an Ingres painting lying on her side, like that," Christine said. I hated the boyfriend stealing skunk known as Christine-the-slut, but just then when she compared my naked backside to an Ingres painting, my feelings began to soften.

"You know, there's something familiar..." Sam was saying.

"Come on you pervert, let's give the two lovers a little privacy. Let's go count the books in the library," Christine, the sleazy boyfriend-stealing hussy, said.

Once they were good and gone, and Juan had bolted the door, he resumed taking pictures of me, keeping the pillow hiding my head. He later entered the photos in a photography competition at our school, and he won third prize. Everyone wanted to know who his sexpot was, but he never said. Good thing, too, because if he had, he would have been castrated. I keep one of my kitchen knives razor sharp.

After the pictures, Juan removed the pillow, rolled me onto my back, and resumed kissing me. The man was in no hurry. By the time his hands went to caress my boobs and my nipples, I was about ready to beg him to fuck me already! I think my pussy was so wet it might have been wetting his bed!

There was so much anticipating regarding Don Juan's eventual fuck, I was wondering if the fuck itself might be anticlimactic. Well, I can tell you this much: It wasn't. That one fuck, my first fuck not by Sam, totally changed my head. I think I'll never forget that fuck, to my dying day. I had my first ever mega orgasm, too, during that memorable fuck.

I instantly sucked Juan hard. I needed another of those fucks from heaven! As it turned out, like many men, Juan is even better with the second fuck. He must have fucked me for over forty minutes, which at the time I thought could have been a world's record? Sam's longest had been around fifteen minutes, which is well long enough for this girl to be satisfied, but forty minutes? That's marathon territory.

I did end up spending the night. I had no idea where Sam slept, and you know what? I didn't care. Juan fucked me twice in the morning, too, and I went to class stinking of sex. I sat in the back, but everyone seemed to know what I had been up to. I was surrounded by knowing smiles. And you know what? I just didn't care!

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My collegiate love life came to a sudden end when the Coronavirus raised its ugly, crowned head. We were all sent home at some point in March, and classes resumed on Zoom, and grades switched to pass/fail. I was shut in at home with Mom, Dad, and my brother Leo. I had just read Sartre's play "No Exit" in my college lit class, and boy was it appropriate!

I had to get out, but we had no masks. Still, I could sew. I took one of my old bras (a C-cup bra) and one of the cups fit me reasonably well. My Mom had some elastic bands left over from her own sewing projects, so an hour later at her sewing machine I had two masks, one from each cup of my bra.

I wanted to visit my old high school era boyfriend Eric. He had chosen not to go to college, but rather to join his father's garage, as a car mechanic. I had tried to talk him into college. I remember what he said.

"Melissa, you're smart. You should go to college. Academics just doesn't suit me. Hell, I've barely made it through high school. I'm good at what I do, however. I can tell you what's wrong with a car just by listening to its engine, and perhaps a little test drive for confirmation. I've even learned the computer crap one needs these days with the high-tech cars," Eric had said.

"But Eric! You're throwing away your future, and ..."

"Stop, Melissa. I'm following my destiny. Melissa, I'm just not that smart, it's a fact. I'm not book smart, but I can fix anything. That's the talent God gave me, and that's what I'm going to do," Eric said to me, back then, some nine months ago.

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My brother Leo is a couple of years older than I am. He's a junior in college, and of course he was forced to come home, too.

"Were you getting any, in college, Melissa?" Leo asked me.

"Any what?" I asked.

"Any sex, you moron. Are you still a virgin? You're much too old, and too pretty, to still be a virgin," Leo said.

"You're being a creep, Leo. I don't discuss sex with my brother," I said.

"You're on the pill, so I figure you're getting laid, right?" Leo said.

"What? Are you going through my things, you filthy creep of a brother!" I exclaimed.

"No, you just have a box of them sitting right there, on top of your dresser. I'm a junior in college; even I can figure out that if you have birth control pills on your dresser, probably they're also going down the hatch on a daily basis, too. Am I right?"

"Oh. Yeah, good deduction," I said, a bit embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky guy? I mean, I wouldn't know him, but it's fun to fantasize about you getting it on with some stud. Having a name makes it more fun, you know?"

"Are you jerking off to fantasies of me, your own sister? Jeez, Leo, don't creep me out," I said.

"We're cooped up together here for God knows how long. I've got to do something to relieve the tension, you know?" Leo said.

We traded insults for a while, and then, to get him off my case, I decided to open up for him. There are times when Leo can be understanding and sympathetic, even. I told him about Sam, and then Sam ad Christine, and how Don Juan had seduced me at my most vulnerable low point, how I had cheated on Sam with Juan wherever I could, and how Juan told Sam, and Sam dumped me, and then Juan dumped me, and now here I was. At the end, I was crying.

Leo comforted me. I don't know what it is with men comforting crying women, but just like Don Juan before him, somehow Leo and I ended up kissing. Fortunately, Leo did not try to go farther than kissing, because I was channeling Don Juan, and Leo could have done whatever he wanted with me, just then, incest be damned.

I realized later how lucky I was. Leo was thinking along the same lines as me, but of course Mom and Dad were home. Their presence stopped him cold. It did wake me up to how outrageously I was behaving, though. I was a mess!

Still trying to cheer me up, Leo said, "Hey, how's that old boyfriend of yours, the mechanic Eric Schmidt, doing these days? He's really a good mechanic. Everyone says so. I'll bet he'd love to see you. Maybe he could even help your sexual deprivation? You should give him a ring."

I just stared at him. Was he saying I should go over and fuck my old high school boyfriend? Was he teasing me, or just plain nuts?

As if reading my mind, Leo said, "I'm serious. Go see Eric. It'll help you get out of your funk. And don't worry about him still being a virgin. Once you left for college, he fucked every girl in sight."

"I'm sure that's not true," I said.

"Well, it's a small town; there's not that many girls in sight, anyway," Leo said, and dodged the pillow I threw at him.

Still, I had to admit, Leo had a point.

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"Mom, I'm going over to Eric's house to give him a mask. He probably needs one," I yelled out to my mother, quickly leaving the house before she could tell me not to. I walked the deserted roads until, twenty minutes later, I arrived at the home of Eric's family. I assumed he was still living at home. I was wrong.

Now I know we're supposed to shelter in place, and believe me, I support that. In addition, maybe I was harboring the virus, with it swimming around maliciously inside me, before any symptoms could appear. However, I'd texted Eric, and he had agreed to meet me outside his apartment, and stay six feet away from me. I just had to see his face!

I melted when I saw his face. Eric has a beautiful face, and within it shines his soul. I began to get horny, too, when I saw him, remembering all those times I had jerked him off. Looking back on things now, with all the experience I had gleaned from Sam and Don Juan, I felt guilty. After all, I hadn't ever at least given Eric a blowjob! He had deserved better from me. And now, I'm even still on the pill. Maybe...? No, Corona won't let us. I could get him sick, or he could get me sick!

Then again, maybe neither one of us is contaminated, so maybe....No, too dangerous.

I walked to his small apartment, after his Mom gave me his address. It was pretty slummy, but it was his. He was home, of course; everyone was home. He invited me in, but I said no, it was too dangerous, and we had to meet outside. It was cold outside, but I was dressed for it. Eric came out. As his door opened I saw that his TV was on, tuned into Fox News.

Eric came out, and before I could stop him, he kissed me. I melted in his arms. His kisses brought back so many wonderful memories; it was the comfort food of romance. I could feel his cock was hard for me. I knew for a fact my pussy was wet for him. He was all over me, so it seemed pointless to resist when he again invited me inside, "to warm up."

"Take off all those clothes, Melissa, and come over here by the fire," he said.

"Eric, that's your laptop broadcasting a video of a fire," I said.

"Actually, it's a high-tech simulation of a fire. Stand near it, you'll warm up."

I did. Damn, if it wasn't warmer by the 'fire.' Maybe it was the power of suggestion? "Hey, it's working!" I said.

"The power of suggestion," Eric said. "Plus, there's a cute little space heater behind the laptop. Look closely, and you'll see it."

I smiled, and blushed at my naiveté. "You can take off more clothes, Melissa. I won't mind. Get comfortable, why don't you?" Eric said.

"I've removed all my warm outerwear already. There's nothing left to remove," I said.

"Oh, I disagree. Here, let me help you," Eric said, and he walked over to me, standing by the 'fire,' and he removed my blouse and then my bra. "Ah, my old friends," he said, as my boobs popped into view.

"Maybe you should meet your new friends, too?" I said, as I removed my pants and my panties.