Sarah's Sexual Saga Ch. 02

He stopped and turned to face us with an expression of equal parts smug and inconvenienced.

When we got close enough to him to speak in hushed tones, in a quite earnest voice I said, "We need you to unlock the pool area for us."

"Yeah, right...," he said, turning away from us.

"Don't you want to know what you're going to get out this?" I asked.

He turned back around to look at us, every trace of inconvenience and smugness was erased from his face and instead he wore a virginal face, with the anticipatory and inquisitive expression of a puppy simultaneously hoping for a tennis ball to be thrown, and wondering why you haven't thrown it yet. We had him and we knew it.

I smiled at him and put an arm around his shoulders as we walked. I looked up and down the hallway making sure there were no lingering guys to overhear us.

"We," I said, pointing to Megan and then myself, "are going to go skinny dipping. If you would be so kind as to just unlock a door, we don't need lights turned on or anything else, we will let you watch us get undressed. Once we are naked you will leave; in a few hours you swing back by and lock the door. Again, I pointed to Megan and then myself. "We get to skinny dip, and you," pointing at him, "get to see us naked, and no one," I said, gesturing to all the world around us, "will ever know."

"I get to keep your panties," he negotiated.

"You can smell them, but you can't keep them," Megan countered.

'I might be in love with this girl,' I thought to myself before nodding in unity with her.

Maybe two minutes later we were at the door to the pool area. Dave was looking around with all nervousness of the guy in the bank heist movie that was going to crack under pressure, killing innocent bystanders and sending the perfect plan spiraling into chaos. As the door unlocked, he waved us in frantically. Once inside the pool area he ushered us to a spot that would have the least chance of being overseen through the windows.

The pool was lined with about a dozen underwater lamps. The soft light reflected off the blue tiling and cast the entire area in a muted, pale-green hue.

I initiated the disrobing. I went slow, deliberately exaggerating my bodily contortions beyond what is needed to get naked. Megan followed suit; we were putting on a show for Dave but also for each other.

I was watching her the entire time, and I finally got to see her firm, tight tits that had been pressed against me all night, topped with little milk chocolate-colored nipples. In contrast to my heart patch of pubes, she sported a landing strip just above her pussy. Her labia, about the same color as her nipples, touched looking like a the narrowest of slits with just the faintest hint of her fun parts trying to peak out. In contrast, my labia majora were meaty and warm pink and my clitoral hood protruded from it.

The last article that I shimmied out of were my damp panties that clung to my mound until the wetness could no longer resist the force of me pulling them away. With them at my feet, I placed my hands on my hips and slowly spun around in a couple of circles before gripping my panties between my toes and kicking them up at Dave's face.

Dave missed catching them, so he bent down and picked them up. He examined them, pulling them fairly tight at the waistband looking at them from the front and then the back before he scrunched them into one fist. Looking me up and down he inhaled deeply, savoring my fragrance. He repeated the process with Megan's underpants moments later. Then he smelled them both at the same time, after which we asked him to leave. He was disappointed that he had to go but accepted that we had delivered on our part of the bargain; he slunk away and out of our lives.

Megan and I stood alone looking at one another for several seconds before we leapt in. The water was pleasant, slightly on the cool side.

I would love to tell you that we met in the waters and made love like a pair or mermaids in seas that were as stormy as our lust, but we didn't. There was an undercurrent of sexuality between us for sure, but for that hour or so, our nudity was less sexual than it was liberating. We swam and frolicked, carefree, as though we were the only two souls in the world.

We raced swimming from one side of the pool to the other, I won, longer legs. We had a contest to see who could hold their breath under water longer, she won. We tried to see who could sit on the jet in the hot tub the longest as well, but this was attempted a multitude of times and was too distracting for either of us to pay much attention to wins and losses. It's true what they say, 'It's not whether you win or lose that counts, it's how you play the game.'

There were a couple of other contests with disputed results that were never agreed to by both parties. What can I say, a lot of aquatic sports are subjective.

We would sit in the scalding brew of the hot tub for five minutes at a time before running and jumping into the cool water of the pool, jolting our bodies with each transition. In the hot tub, when we weren't sitting on the jets, we would talk about little things like what other sports we were into, what our home towns were like and boyfriends; we both had one.

One particular time we were sitting in the hot tub. I was sitting with my arms resting up on the rim, my tits just above the water; Megan followed suit. Years later, I would learn that this is called mirroring behavior and it is a fantastic way to see if someone into you. If you are eating dinner on a first date, in the middle of the conversation, take a drink of water, if the other person does the same, it is a very good sign for you, but that is neither here nor there.

There we sat in the hot, air-propelled water, her eyes, a definitive green, were focused on my tits.

"There is something that I need to ask you," I said, and her response was only the tilt of her head, so I continued, "I have been going back and forth on this all night, what color are your eyes?"

She laughed, "I guess it depends on who you ask, some say brown, some say green."

"What do you say?" I asked.

"I say the longer they are a mystery, the better." she replied playfully.

Please forgive me, this all happened in a time before white people knew that this was an inappropriate way of asking this, but I said, "Uh, give me something? You are so exotic, like no one else here, what are you?" I asked, almost wondering out loud.

If she was offended by the question, she didn't let on. Or maybe I was not attuned enough to racial sensitivity to see it at the time, but she never broke her wide smile and told me, "My dad was in the Navy and while he was stationed in Hawaii, he met my mom. I am basically half Irish and half Hawaiian... Your turn, what are you?"

"I am your typical American mutt, I'm like half German, a quarter Scandinavian and the rest is mix of all of Great Britain. But let me get this straight, your dad, from here, was in Hawaii, married a girl there, and then came back... here? Are they still married?"

"Yeah, mom loves it here, except for the summers. It's too hot here, but she loves the winter here... she loves snow." she replied.

Eventually we began to prune in the water. There was a cabinet filled with towels that we used to dry off.

I knew we had a meet in the morning, but it was honorary only and I never wanted the night to end so I asked, "Hey do you want to come chill out in my room after this, see if there's anything good on TV?"

"Yeah, absolutely," she replied.

Minutes later I was in my bathroom and she in hers across the hall. We were blow-drying our hair, brushing our teeth, using the restroom, primping and re-applying makeup. We did the things you go out of your way to do for new lovers but are not comfortable enough to do in front of them.

Mercifully, there were no compressing mattress springs or orgasmic moans coming through the wall.

I slipped into one of my brother's old t-shirts that I used as a nightie and a pair of high-cut, cotton-brief panties.

I was still trying to perfect my look when there came a soft knocking at the door. I opened it and there she stood also in a long t-shirt, but she was wearing gym shorts as well as some ankle high socks. She had also redone her makeup.

We relaxed onto the bed, lying on our sides facing towards each other and towards the television at the same time. We spent a few minutes channel surfing until we settled on 'HBO's Real Sex 18.'

The featured part of the episode, already in progress, was about a porn actress, Anna Malle, and her life in the industry. The show was transitioning to another segment when our eyes met, and we kissed again. It was passionate but also aggressive. There was a mutual hunger in this kiss.

Without breaking the lip-lock she pushed me down on my back. She climbed on top of me, straddled me and began kneading my tits through my t-shirt. My nipples reacted to her touch in an instant and I gasped into her mouth.

I attempted to reciprocate her groping, but she insistently focused the attention of the moment on my plus-sized tits, and I wasn't going to object.

She reached down and pulled my shirt off, only breaking the kiss long enough for the fabric to pass over my lips before she re-engaged. My shirt cleared my head, and the armholes were at my wrists when she stopped pushing it up. Instead, she gripped the material between my wrists tightly in her hand and then pinned my arms above my head on the mattress. I was a little taken aback by her confidence in the moment as I was, and am certain that she was also, new to all of this. I knew that I was stronger than her and that I could easily escape this make-shift restraint, but she seemed to have a plan of what she wanted to do, and I was not going ruin the moment.

Her free hand resumed fondling my tits. She tweaked my nipples, and they cherished the attention but craved something more.

She kissed my chin and then began working her way down to kiss my neck, down to the side of my tit where she suckled on the skin just inches from my left nipple. I writhed in anticipation.

I kicked my legs from underneath her, out to the sides and then wrapped them around her back just above the top of her ass. I squeezed just tight enough to feel her torso through the thin layer of cotton against my mound. I began bucking up and grinding against her.

This served as fuel to her fire, and she began assailing my boobs with heightened vigor.

I threw my head back and moaned.

She switched hands and began working my other breast. I looked down and saw the reddish-purple blemish where she had given me a hickey and she was well on her way to giving me a second one. My pussy was drenched but I couldn't get the pressure I needed from beneath her.

I managed to slip my big toes under the waist band of her shorts and push them down her legs. In order to accommodate, she had to relax her grip on my shirt.

I used the moment to slip my hands out of my shirt, I quickly got to my haunches and hooked my forearms behind her knees. I hoisted her up off the mattress, "Oh shit," she half yelled, and half laughed in surprise during the fraction of a second before I slammed her on her back, flat against the mattress with me on top of her. Quick as a hiccup, I was straddling her naval area and I pinned her arms above her head by the wrists.

Her face was an expression of excitement and anticipation. I lowered my tits over her face, and she took a stiff and needy nipple into her mouth. I let out a groan. I felt my pussy quiver and knew it was leaking like a dam that was about to burst.

The pressure on my nipple from her suction was incredible and varied from intense to overwhelming.

I resumed grinding against her abdomen.

With an audible 'pop' she released my nipple from her mouth sending a tremor through my body. She turned her head to my other nipple. Pinned beneath me, she couldn't reach it without my assistance, so I twisted my torso towards her eagerly awaiting mouth.

I was in a position of physical dominance but that was about it. I felt like I was being mentally, emotionally and sexually subjugated through the bodily pleasure she was assailing me with.

When she took my other, erstwhile-neglected nipple into her mouth I gave up all pretense of being in control and let loose her wrists.

I put my arm out just above her shoulder to keep myself elevated over her and my other hand moved quickly to her tits, they were spectacular. Just slightly bigger than a handful, they were a perfect ratio of firmness to bounce, and her nipples were stiff and straining.

She moved one hand to the tit she wasn't suckling and with the other she reached back and firmly gripped one of my ass cheeks which she would alternate between kneading, shaking and spanking; basically, she was enjoying making my junk jiggle; I couldn't blame her.

I took a nipple between my thumb and index finger and gently stroked it between them. A jolt of pain shot through me, and I whimpered. She had bit my nipple, not hard at all and for no real measurable amount of time, but the bitch had bitten me, nonetheless. Then she thrust her body up pushing her tit hard against the hand that was playing with it.

'She wants it harder,' I realized.

I pinched down, nowhere near as hard as I could but significantly harder than I had been. With her turgid nipple tightly gripped, I rolled it firmly back and forth between my thumb and finger, triggering a moan from my lover. The vibration against my tit was fantastic.

I felt a need to reciprocate so I pushed myself up off the mattress pulling my boob from her ravenous lips. I crawled down her body to come face to face with her exotic, dusky-brown tits and the burnt umber nips that crowned their perfect curvatures. Had I just spent my night staring at them, these works of genetic art, I would have been perfectly content.

In the process of repositioning into our current orientations, she had attempted to continue playing with my tits, but the angle was, I am sure, awkward for her so instead her hands rested on my shoulders for a moment while I was hypnotized by her beautiful breasts and might have stayed so transfixed, except that she moved her hands from my shoulders to the back of my head and pulled my face to her bosom.

I was shocked at how natural it felt to have her nipple between lips, to suckle it and to flick it around with my tongue.

I felt the unmistakable gooey wetness of her vaginal secretions against my diaphragm and was elated to know that she was as wet as I was.

Her tight little body contorted and writhed beneath me; every movement only encouraged me to keep going.

She moved her hands to the sides of my head and began stroking along the curves of my earlobes as she had done earlier in the night.

Here I was with only the third lover of my young life, the first woman, who I had only known a few hours and I was experiencing a sexual intimacy that I had never known. That is not to say that the men hadn't been intimate as well as sexual, but they were nothing like this.

I would work one tit and nipple with my mouth and the other I would manipulate with my hand, alternating between kneading, rotating and using my thumb on the nipple, just like an analog stick on a video game console.

Every few minutes I would switch; the more I went, the wetter she was against my abdomen, the wetter I was against the mattress.

We were both on the precipice of climaxing. It was fantastic to be so aroused, so locked-in on the moment, and so attuned to another entity so much so that I almost feared us achieving orgasm, worried it would bring this magical moment to an end.

After some time, she wrapped her legs around my waist, hooked her elbows under my armpits and barrel rolled us until she was again on top of me. Instead of continuing to mount me she crawled off. She pushed my legs up into the air, gripped the sides of my cotton briefs by the waistband, and in a single, swift motion she removed the last thread of fabric from my body.

She held the saturated garment in her hand for a seconds before she threw it across the room against a wall.

Now, here's a thing. My mother's best friend is a first-generation Italian American and I had probably eaten dinner at her house no fewer than three dozen times. The wall behind her stove was covered in dry pasta because she knew the pasta was ready when she threw a strand of it against the wall, and it stuck.

When Megan threw my panties against that wall, I was halfway expecting them to stick there. They of course did not; they fell and landed on the side of a lamp shade causing it lean off balance.

She pulled me up, so that we were both on our knees facing one another. I reached down and touched the wetness between her legs. I used the pads of my fingers and began rubbing her clitoral hood. She gasped and her body tightened but she moved in closer to me.

She reached down and mimicked my motions at first, but I increased the pressure and pace. For the time being, she abandoned the attempt to give and just allowed herself to receive. She threw her arms around my neck, pressed her mound into my fingers and buried her tongue in my mouth.

Twice on this night she had stroked my earlobes. I took this as a fairly good indicator that she might like her having her ears touched so with my free hand, I began stroking hers.

She began taking in deep, fast breaths and exhaling in long soft moans.

I alternated between rubbing her love-button up and down, side to side, and in figure eights with an occasional light slap against it.

Incrementally, I would change the pace and the pressure, sometimes increasing one while I decreased the other, sometimes decreasing both, and sometimes increasing both. All the while she was tongue fucking my face and I was gently stroking her ears.

Suddenly she broke the kiss, "Oh Jesus FUCK!" she let out, part scream, part whimper and all ecstasy as a flood of her climactic fluid coated my hand and splattered against my knee and thigh.

Her chest was heaving dramatically with each breath, I wrapped my arms around her, and we held in this embrace for what felt life a lifetime and the briefest of moments, all at the same time.

When we parted, there were tears running down her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away.

"Oh God, are you okay?" I asked, mortified that I had somehow hurt her.

"I am so good right now... I... I never had an orgasm... you know, from someone else before," she explained still wiping the tears away.

"But you said earlier how much you liked fucking your boyfriend," I said, though it was really more of a question.

"I do," She said, "I love it, it's great but, I have never achieved an orgasm that way before."

My mind was blown. I was in bed with maybe the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, without a doubt one of the top three, and I was the first person to ever give her an orgasm. It was all I could do, not to pat myself on the back and break out into a Dion Sanders touchdown dance, or say something like, 'You should see how good I am when I'm not sleep deprived.' Luckily, I did none of those things. I leaned in and rubbed the tip of my nose against the tip of hers and then held her until she was ready to move on.

The signal that she was ready, came by way of fairly hard slap to my ass followed by her saying, "On your back, ho!"

I lay down and she positioned herself on her knees along the right side of my body. With her left hand she began playing with my tits and with her right, she replicated the method I had used to bring her to orgasm.

She was pretty good at it, though I think I was better. I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the sensations. Within minutes I knew my orgasm was close at hand. She tilted her body and jutted out her haunches to get better access to the pussy she was working over. I realized that that ass was not out of arms reach, and reach it I did. With a sudden, firm swat I spanked her beautiful Hawaiian ass. I don't know if there is such a thing as too much ass jiggle, but hers seemed just right.