Nostalgic Ramblings Ch. 02

When Mary came the first time, she spun my world on its ear. The way she devoted her entire being to the experience, her body flailing as it rode the wave of some massive energy wave, her mouth open and screaming as I'd never heard a woman scream except in horror movies... I only recall one other place where I've ever seen a woman invest so much of her soul in an activity, and in that place I've seen such investment many, many times - on the dance floor. When a woman dances, she has no choice but to decide that one part of her brain will shut down for a time so that her social inhibitions, her physical hesitation, and her self-scrutinization won't get in the way of the creation of art by way of the most delicate canvas she owns. This is how Mary came for me, and I felt her orgasm as a shared experience. She squeezed my stone-hard penis with her vagina muscles, pulled me close to her, vocalized her passion directly into my ear and deep inside my brain.

I was amazed I didn't come inside her after the very first thrust, but the subconscious desire to keep fucking is advanced enough in the human male to keep any initial torrent at bay, at least for most boys who've had sex on a regular basis previously. Still, the entire first time with Mary felt like I was on the verge of exploding inside her at any given point. Of course, when the time finally came to ejaculate, any misconceptions I'd had previously about being close were quickly dispersed. When the moment truly arrived, there was no mistaking that semen was about to blast out of me and fly somewhere in the general direction of this girl.

Are you surprised that we didn't use a condom? I never thought about it, I must admit, until the moment I nearly came inside her. I've seen a million and one porno movies where the guy fucks "gonzo style" as they say, with no protection, and I simply can't believe that those girls aren't on the pill. Do these guys truly have that level of control, that even the pre-cum doesn't seep out and cause accidents from time to time? I have to at least admit it's possible, because even throughout the most intense sex of my life up to that point, I didn't drip enough to cause anything terrible to happen with Mary. But it sure as hell was a close call. I pulled out of her just in time to shoot my seed all over her belly button and upper stomach.

The worst part of a spontaneous sexual encounter with a beautiful acquaintance is the moment after the man comes. From this point, the uncertainty returns, although some things are far more certain than others, such as the question of whether you're gonna get yourself a piece or not. I remember the ex-girlfriend from that senior year of college, and our first night to have sex. She became awkward and guilty, and it was infectious. There was nothing left to do but put our clothes on and say goodnight. Almost two weeks passed before we kissed again; things moved swiftly after that, but the entire two weeks felt like that first moment after the sex, scary and disappointing.

But with Mary, I knew right away that things were going to be different. She crashed against the fabric-covered passenger seat, breathing deeply, a satisfied coo escaping her lips over and over. I watched with amazement as she rubbed my jizz into her belly, then lifted her sticky fingertips and manipulated her own hard nipples. I was so immersed in the sight of a girl doing such a thing, which I'd never even imagined before, that I wasn't prepared when she took my cock in her hand for the first time. She stroked me expertly, drawing the come down to the last drop, swirling it with her fingertip across my painfully sensitive dickhead. I didn't realize it at the time, but she was cleaning me off as best she could, to prepare me for a second fuck.

Starting with the moment Mary slipped my prick back inside her sopping wet twat, the experience we shared descended to a progressively less tender state. "Oh yeah," she cried as she pulled me down hard onto her body. I literally had no say in the matter; I plunged speechlessly into the reality of a second fucking of this beautiful goddess. I certainly didn't have any time to question whether or not I'd cleaned my cock off adequately enough to justify slipping back inside her; it just happened.

Where the first copulation had washed over us both like a wave crashing low, the second was an aerobic workout, or perhaps weight-training sounds more appropriate; we weren't stretching, we were engaged in strenuous heavy lifting. All our communication was non-verbal for a long time, not counting Mary's (and my) cries of pleasure which included phrases like, "Baby... yes... god... oh my god..." For instance, when she wanted to lift her ankles up over my shoulders, I knew what she wanted before she could lift her legs to the proper height. It's odd what you think back on as the most important points of an event, but when those ankles latched over my shoulders, I knew we were speaking to one another on a cellular level.

Her pussy opened wide for me, and I fell deeper inside her than before. Her vagina felt just as tight and hot, but nothing she or I did could stop me from moving effortlessly in my attempt to friction us both to the next orgasm. (Is "friction" a verb? It should be.)

When I think of people making love, I remember Richard and Julia in "Pretty Woman," because even though you can't see them fucking behind that screen thing in the hotel room, you know they're moving slowly, methodically, with him stroking her gently in a repetitive way. Well, this wasn't that. I held myself above Mary's body with my forearms on the seat and my tiptoes on the floorboard, bracing my weight over her, so that I could pound her wet body with my vicious deep thrusts. This was, as you may already suspect, another first for me. How many girls had I made love to up to this point, and never truly fucked any of them? I recall a thought that flashed across my mind as I looked at Mary's face and pounded her petite form so hard she left an impression in the seat for the rest of the time I owned that car, and that thought was, "She knew I was going to fuck her this hard, and she surrendered herself to me anyway. She really wants it this hard."

The second male orgasm is a long-time coming, no pun intended, and I was able to fuck Mary for what felt like half-an-hour. Certainly the muscle burn in my legs, arms and back would testify that it was at least this long. But the second female orgasm arrives quickly (for the girl who knows her body well enough), and Mary came so hard the second time that I thought I'd hurt her.

I asked, "Are you okay?" Her reply was, "Keep fucking me." My cock, already hard, swelled painfully at the sound of these words. First of all, I'd never heard a girl say such a thing except in pornos, and not even there very much. Mostly in past experiences, the girl would say, "Please keep going," or, "That's so nice," or at most, "Oh my god." For that matter, I don't really recall many girls I knew in person up to that point who used language like that - real life is not like the Sopranos, as most of you already know. Furthermore, if I had to pick any woman to talk dirty during sex, it would not have been this quiet, socially withdrawn soprano with the unassuming gaze and acquiescent demeanor. And in not picking her, I would have been dead wrong. Once she uttered the word the first time, there was no stopping her. "Fuck me," she pleaded, enjoying the way the words sounded in her mouth and the reaction they had on me. "Fuck me hard, please, fuck me."

I hadn't even pulled out of her as she came, and I simply continued thumping her pussy from the inside. This is the point at which I truly turned aggressive in my lovemaking. I remember slamming in and out of her with rapid movements, causing an almost vibratory sensation inside her that we both enjoyed. With utter astonishment I watched as her third orgasm arrived virtually on the heels of the second. No waiting for me to ask if she were okay, she dug her nails into the my neck, stretched her sweat-covered thighs further apart and said, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," in her soft but firm little girl voice.

Here's another part of the story that actually happened. I'm reluctant to tell you about it, because depending on the mood I'm in, it affects me differently. I suspect it will scare some of you, and others it will excite. As Mary moaned and cried and screamed beneath me, there came a point at which she said, "Come inside me." These words had the immediate affect of breaking my rhythm, to the degree that a cow standing on railroad tracks breaks the momentum of an oncoming locomotive, inconsequently but measurable using the right instruments. Looking back I realize she wasn't asking me to impregnate her but simply crying out in pleasure for something she thought she wanted to experience. But in my head, I repeated the word "No" several times. (Sometimes when I think back to the experience, I remember actually saying the word out loud, but this didn't actually happen.) I have to admit that, even as church teaching ran through my head at a frightening pace regarding premarital sex, abortion and all the rest, I also wanted very much to shoot my come deep inside her and see how it would feel. In any case, all I did was kiss her lips and keep fucking her, completely ignoring what she's just said and reminding myself to pull out before I came.

And come I certainly did. The volume of jizz was minimal compared to the first explosion, but the sensations I felt were far superior. Mary felt me pull out of her, and she grabbed my cock in her hands and stroked the very soul out of me. I yelled in pain and pleasure as I gritted my teeth and allowed her to fondle my cock in any way she wanted.

I fell against her, and we embraced in a sweaty mess. By this point the car was filled with steam, fogging the windows to opaqueness. It was as though we'd created our own personal sauna for the night, and we both loved it. We kissed, tenderly, for a long time. At some point I decided we'd be more comfortable in the backseat. I don't think I verbally instructed her to follow me back there, because we didn't do much talking the entire time. All I truly remember is lying with her one minute in the passenger seat, and the next moment lying next to her in the backseat in almost the exact position. She was on her back along the seat, humming the same off-key note again and again, as I moved my hand and fingers along her wet flesh, fascinated by what she had allowed me to do to her body.

Now comes the fun part. Sensing in that moment that Mary still had about a million orgasms left in her, I moved my hand down between her legs, which she willingly opened for me. My hand manipulated her genitals, slowly at first and then with more deliberate pressure. As expected, Mary squirmed with appreciation, her wet pussy sloppy and warm against my fingers as they explored her clit, her slit, her deep smelly tunnel. I licked the sweat from her torso, her chest. Her heart pounded so hard I could feel it through my tongue. Then she orgasmed, closing her legs around my hand again and again.

I can't explain to you what compelled me to leave my hand there after the orgasm. I fully understand now that I sensed her body's ability to allow another orgasm quickly after the first, but at the time, I probably only wanted to see if I could get away with it. Could she really allow me to touch her sensitive pussy so soon after the orgasm? How wonderful it would be if she could. I began again to stroke her, waiting only for the most intense part of her previous orgasm to subside. My fingers pressed against the top of her pussy right against her pelvis bone, and she fucked my fingers with her gyrating loins. When she came, it seemed that the previous orgasm had never really vanished but was simply returning as the second portion of the same wave.

Are there any fellow nerds in the room? I know that some of you reading this don't really get too excited by the prospect of learning new things; even the word "learning" bores you. But for others, the moment of discovery is really the only reason life is worth living, like the moment you first realize that sunlight causes plants to grow, that this plus that equals something larger than either... or that girls, the members of a gender which has a hard time putting up with fumbling boy hands long enough to produce a single orgasm in the span of one date, are actually MORE intense in their sexuality and sensational awareness than you are, despite the fact that you always come first. I watched in wonder as this girl completed her fifth and most intense orgasm but still seemed able, no, eager for the next.

I obeyed. Mary became putty in my hands, or perhaps I was the putty. When I positioned my mouth over her pussy, she allowed it without hesitation and rode my mouth to at least two orgasms. She moved her hands across her wet body and mine as well, soaking in every sensory perception she could attain. Unlike our intercourse, where she goaded me on with her filthy language, Mary seemed to lose her ability to form words as I fondled her genitals in an attempt to sustain her orgasmic state, causing one after another.

I remember the moment at which I realized it was a waste of time to count her orgasms, stopping at 40. I laid on my back, looking up at her as she stood above me, one leg on the floor and another on the panel behind the backseat. She held onto one of those handles above the door and twisted like a warm raincloud as she rode my fingers to one orgasm after another. Mary came hard, screaming, and fell down onto my body. She discover my recovered penis pressing hard against her abdomen, and she struggled to find the strength to pull herself into a sitting position above me. Almost in a daze, she sat down on my cock and filled herself with it. If she continued to be a tight fit, I did not notice; the interior of her vagina was so lubricated that I slid very easily into her, immediately feeling her body press down against my pubic hair. Mary was too tired to move, so I pounded up into her as she listed above me in a seemingly sleepy state. She wasn't sleepy at all, but more like in a hypnotic state; it must have been all her mind could do to survive the experience of the next orgasm rushing her direction.

As she rode my hard penis, I moved my hands across her body, delighting in her body heat and the way my palms moved across her wet skin with an almost absolute absence of friction. Would you believe it was one of the happiest moments of my life, a revelatory experience, a defining moment? When a girl responds to a boy that way, opening her mind and body and inner essence up to him, that boy believes he can connect with the rest of humanity at such a level, and that anything he sets his mind to is accomplishable.

It's funny what you think about during sex - appointments, the grocery list, movie moments that you thought you could rip off once you got in the bedroom with a girl ("Pretty Woman" for instance.) Often during my ex-girlfriend I'd think about other girl's as I fucked her, not because she wasn't hot and I didn't want her, but because my mind moves so quickly that it has trouble keeping interest in experiences that aren't new, even the experience of profound physical pleasure. The reason I mention it is that, in that moment with Mary, I don't believe I thought about anything except her and what I was feeling and what I made her feel. That must be why my brain remembers so much of the experience; it was divided between warring ideas but was instead unified in the purpose of archiving this night for all time.

When she came, she screamed the word "Fuck!" at the top of her voice and flew off of me, landing in the corner by the door. She spread her body like a blanket, trying to cool down, trying to catch her breath. I moved my hand toward my own hard cock, still anxious to come, but up until this point in my life, I had always had a fear (cultural, not logical) of anyone else ever finding out that I masturbated. Even under these conditions, even with THIS girl, I didn't want her to see me stroking myself to keep hard.

Then I had an idea. It doesn't sound like much to you, but it hit me like an aluminum bat. As I watched her caressing her own body, slowly luxuriating in the touch of her own body, I realized that she was a girl who masturbated. This must be part of the reason why she came so hard, so frequently and with so much stamina in reserve. From my place across from Mary in the seat, I asked her in a soft whisper, "Do you like to masturbate?" I promise you, she shivered, she literally shivered at the question. The word "Yes" escaped her lips almost involuntarily. "Do it," I said, this time in a whisper almost too low to hear. But she heard, and she spread her legs for me. The car was too dark to make out the finest details, but there was enough ambient light in the city outside to allow me to witness the glistening wetness on her puffy, swollen pussy lips. The fingertips of her right hand traced a line from her breastbone down her stomach to her slit. She used three fingers to rub herself, first slowly, then fast. Hard as I was, I stroked myself for her to watch. The experience proved too much for her, and she came almost immediately after she started jacking herself. I came also, and it was a big one. It landed all over me in a big white splash.

Mary leaned forward and licked my semen from my stomach, swallowing it out of existence. This in itself was completely hot, but it helps for you to know that I hadn't had too many good experiences with girls and my ejaculate. Their reactions to having it on their faces and tongues ranged from tolerant (wordless licking with an undercurrent of "can I get this over with quickly, please") to disgusted ("I don' t like it"). So to watch Mary ingest my come as though she'd die without it was a moving sight.

Exhausted at last, or so it seemed, she collapsed into my arms. I might have mistakenly thought she was asleep if she hadn't traced her fingers across my sweat-soaked skin, playing with my flaccid penis and drenched pubic hair, slipping her digits across my not-very-hairy chest and shoulders.

I did the same, running my fingers across her body, allowing her time to cool down. But instead of regaining her composure as I tenderly touched her, she responded in a wholly unexpected way. It seemed my touches were turning her on even more. Mary didn't appear to need more than the stroke of my hands across her small breasts and tight stomach to cause her to breathe heavily with building sexual energy. Intrigued, I pinched her nipples. She inhaled sharply, a sure sign that I'd struck a sexual chord inside her. After only a few moments of playing with her chest, she came.

Blown away by the sight, I kept going. I lowered my mouth to her ear and licked inside, breathing heavily on her skin as I did so. She grabbed my arm and came again, subsided, then came again. I stroked the insides of her thighs with the lightest touch of my fingertips, and this set her off once again. Orgasm followed orgasm as the girl shook helplessly in my arms, filled to overflowing with libidinous force. After only twenty minutes of Mary moaning and screaming in my arms, she put her hand on my face and said, "Wait, I'm gonna pass out... Wait..." Her breathing was shallow and ragged. The muscles in her stomach contracted and released continuously, as though orgasms were still flowing over her even after I had stopped touching her. I could not help myself. I touched between her legs, directly on her clitoris. She yelled, snapped her body like a whip and rode out the force of a crashing climax. "No more!" she shouted. "Wait! Please!" She wasn't angry - quite the contrary, indeed - but she needed me to know that if I didn't give her a moment she'd slip into unconsciousness, and neither of us wanted that.