Sex at the Summer Solstice

Sex at the Summer Solstice - EDITED

How it Began: Sex at the Summer Solstice

By Ironfelix, for Literotica

Standing there bare-ass naked with a huge erection, Kendall Branson was hit by a mix of lust and sheer disbelief. In a second floor bedroom lit by the setting sun, his companion was eagerly stripping down. As Beth McQuinn yanked a white t-shirt over her head, waves of dark curly hair bounced to her shoulders. Next, her bra was released in one deft movement, freeing two large breasts, nipples pointing directly at Kendall. As he savoured this view, Beth was already stepping out of a knee-length navy-blue skirt. Giving a triumphant flourish with her arms, she stood before him wearing only a cheeky grin and hip-hugging pastel yellow panties.

"I could die happy right now," Kendall thought, trying to take this all in at once. "And there's more..."

She resumed undressing, which simply meant hooking two thumbs into the waistband, tugging the panties down to her knees. Looking over at Kendall, she giggled... and then suddenly stopped part-way.

"Hey, I've never seen anyone get undressed that fast," she said, tilting her head slightly, with a puzzled expression. "Ohhh.... wait a minute.... Is this your first time?"

No, no, no, no... That definitely wasn't what he wanted to hear. Not when he could almost reach out and run his fingers through that thick bush of dark pubic hair, or squeeze those breasts, bobbing slightly as she stood back up.

Unfortunately, his brain was suddenly blank, perhaps because much of his blood supply was busy elsewhere. Even in this addled state, he could tell she was expecting an answer. But what if the truthful answer - "yes" - halted the removal of the yellow panties? The prospect was terrifying...

As the last rays of the sun glimmered through the curtains, time seemed to freeze. Absurdly, he remembered that this was the night of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, the sacred holiday of pagans. Until now, it had seemed the ideal evening to break his losing streak with women.

Kendall's twentieth birthday was just a few weeks away. But sadly, in this early '70s era of "free love," he was apparently one of the few men on campus who wasn't having fantastic sex almost every night. He was tormented by the sight of couples holding hands and squeezing bums, by their lingering kisses in campus hallways, the pairing off at last call in the pubs, and the creak of bedsprings behind closed doors. Every lonely night, he invented strategies to find a willing girl of his own.

But Cupid's arrow invariably missed the objects of his desire. In fact, the gods of love seemed to delight in tormenting Kendall, even when he moved into a co-op house shared with half a dozen other students - a "can't miss" place to live. There, he lusted after Sylvia Dayton, the blonde, near-sighted anthropology major with long, tanned legs and ample chest, armed with a sharp tongue and her encyclopedic knowledge of the tribal peoples of South America and the Pacific. Too broke to take summer courses, the 25-year-old had found a government office job, requiring more formal attire than her usual jeans and peasant blouses.

Imagine Kendall's surprise, heading downstairs for breakfast one morning, to see Sylvia across the hallway, naked as the day she was born, bedroom door wide open. Stepping back into his room, Kendall's penis sprang to full attention at the sight of her big pale breasts, large dark nipples, and a full bush of auburn pubic hair. Office clothes laid out carefully on the bed, Sylvia reached into a dresser drawer to grab white cotton panties. Stepping into her undies and pulling them on, Sylvia reached next for a very functional-looking bra. Inspecting the results with a quick glance in her mirror, she could easily have spotted Kendall in the reflection, his door ajar some ten or twelve inches. Instead, she carefully donned dark pantyhose one leg at a time, followed by a matching calf-length patterned skirt, stiff white blouse, and a navy blue blazer. Fully dressed, she reached for her granny glasses, and Kendall quickly shut his door.

Breakfast was delayed while he jerked off rapidly, replaying every second of this unexpected scene. Apparently, he concluded, Sylvia couldn't see a thing without those glasses. Of course, that begged another question: who dresses with her door wide open? There was no easy answer, and he certainly wasn't about to ask.

Life finally took a different turn a few weeks later, as Kendall sat in a local pub one evening, playing shuffleboard with some colleagues from the onofficial campus newspaper, swilling cheap beer and arguing about the fate of the world. Along about nine, a woman perhaps two or three years older than Kendall pushed through the swinging door, peering around through clouds of cigarette smoke. With her long curly black hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, she caught some approving glances from the patrons. But it was her full figure which kept their attention. Dressed to impress, she was wearing dark shorts and a tight-fitting blue t-shirt. And for some unfathomable reason, she was suddenly looking right over at Kendall.

"You know her?" asked his buddy Selwyn, nodding towards the door.

"Yeah, that's Beth McQuinn," Kendall said. "She's an art history major. Broke up with my friend Nat Johnson a few months ago."

Kendall didn't add the rumour that the break-up with his acquaintance had something to do with Beth getting a little too friendly with another Fine Arts student. Or that Rex, her latest boyfriend, was apparently working up north for the whole summer.

Inspired by Beth's smile in his direction, Kendall shocked himself, jumping up to wave across the room.

"Hey, Beth, over here," he called, pointing to an empty seat on his left.

He was even more surprised when she waved back and came over to join them.

"Kendall, I haven't seen you for a while," she said, giving him a casual once-over. "Who are your friends?"

Averting his eyes from the faint outline of nipples on her t-shirt, Kendall introduced Beth to Selwyn and a few others, passing over a tall glass of draft as she sat down.

"So, what are you up to these days?" he asked. It was a reasonable attempt to sound smooth and unruffled, a man of the world who chatted up attractive women every night of the week. In other words, it came out as an actual coherent sentence for a change.

"Not much. I'm taking a couple of spring session courses, doing painting and sketching. But tonight I just couldn't take any more potted plants and wicker chairs, so I thought I'd walk over to see who was here."

Good choice, Kendall thought, as they started talking about courses and mutual friends. For some reason, he found conversation with Beth seemed easier than with other women, who invariably left him dry-mouthed and tongue-tied. So when she began asking about the newspaper, he heard himself offering to act as her personal guide to the intricacies of page set-up, Letraset and graphics.

"It's a date, then," she was saying. "I'll see you on Saturday at the newspaper office. But I really should get back to my sketching."

Finishing off her second glass of draft, Beth daintily wiped a few drops from her lip, then marched out the door, giving him a brief finger-waggle before it slammed shut.

"Did I just hear something about a date?" teased Selwyn. "Since when did you start picking up women?"

Kendall was equally mystified, but three days later, he made sure to arrive early, pacing in front of the former frat house where the paper was published out of the basement.

Much to his relief, Beth turned up right on time, dressed this time in jeans and a crimson turtleneck sweater. Descending the creaking staircase, he gave her a quick tour of four cramped rooms, stuffed with filing cabinets, bundles of newspapers, cases of empties, ancient stuffed chairs, a telephone, two IBM Selectric typewriters, and a layout room dominated by a long, high table and a few stools. The technological bete-noire of the operation was an ancient Strip-Printer, liberated from a more respectable campus weekly.

Used to produce headlines of varying sizes and fonts, this cumbersome device could only function in a tiny improvised darkroom - a former bedroom closet, curtained off from outside light. Teaching Beth to use this equipment required them to squeeze together behind the curtain, jammed arm against arm, thigh to thigh, even taking her hand to show how to create a mock headline. It was the closest Kendall had ever been to a woman, and he tried to spin out the "training" as long as possible.

But inevitably, the date was over, and Beth was thanking him, without actually heading over towards the front door. Kendall's mind went into overdrive, and somehow found inspiration.

"Um, you know, ah, we're holding a fundraiser at the Dusty Barrell next Friday," he managed to explain. "A folk music night. Maybe you'd like to join us?"

There, he thought, I gave that my best shot. Stoically, he looked Beth in the eye, waiting to get shot down.

"Hey, that sounds like fun," she said, and damned if she wasn't even smiling! "What time should I get there?"

"Doors open at 8:30," he said. "There is a two dollar cover charge, sorry."

"Great! I'll see you Friday. Thanks again for showing me the ropes here, Kendall." To his amazement, Beth was suddenly giving him a peck on the cheek and a hug, her shapely breasts squished right up against him. And then she was skipping down the front steps, leaving behind a smitten young man with a raging hard-on and a dazed expression.

The week that followed was a torment. Barely able to sleep, he lay in bed each night, masturbating as he replayed their time together. It all seemed too good to be true. By Friday, he was a pessimistic wreck, convinced that Beth would forget, or find something better to do with her time.

Wrapped in gloom, he arrived early at the Dusty Barrell, volunteering to collect cover charges. The opening act started around 8:45, just as the club started to fill up. It was a lively crowd, bantering with the musicians between songs, and the room was soon buzzing.

Kendall, however, gradually become more depressed as he made change and stamped hands. Eventually, a second band took the small stage, and he took the opportunity to get a second beer before returning to his post. New arrivals slowed to a trickle, giving him time to contemplate his fate.

Around 9:30, the heavy door creaked open for the first time in some fifteen minutes. It was Beth, wearing a white t-shirt that looked at least one size too small, and a knee-length dark skirt.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust, and she was startled to see Kendall sitting right inside the door.

"Well, there you are!" she laughed, glancing around the room. "Sorry I'm a bit late. Looks kind of crowded. I guess that's good, though."

"There's a seat right here," Kendall replied, and so there was, beside the small table where he sat with the cash box. What were the chances of that, he thought: twice in a row, the only free chair was right beside him?

"Can I get you a beer?"

Beth was happy to accept, and he snaked his way through a maze of crowded tables over to the bar. Finding his way back, holding up two glasses, Kendall saw Beth gazing at him instead of paying attention to the band. That nearly caused him to stumble over an outstretched leg, but he managed to avoid catastrophe. As they sipped their beers and listened to the music, Beth told him about her week of classes and painting.

All the while, she kept glancing over into his eyes, twirling a loop of curly hair with one finger. Without warning, she suddenly leaned in, tilted her head, and placed a hand on the back of Kendall's neck to pull him into the first serious kiss of his life. Her warm, wet tongue parted his lips, and the moment stretched on forever. When they finally came up for air, Beth's smart-ass grin was gone, replaced by a dreamy half-smile. He felt himself sinking deep into her blue eyes, heart pounding with excitement and longing.

"Can, um, can we do that again?" he finally managed to stammer.

Without answering, she moved closer, and again the passionate kiss went on and on, tongues exploring, until she finally sat back and looked around the room. So far they had gone unnoticed by most of the crowd, but her body language radiated a hunger for more private intimacy.

"It's kind of noisy in here. Maybe we should go outside for a bit," she suggested.

"Yes, I think so too," he said, signalling to a friend to take his place at the door.

"My shift is over," he explained to Denny, the staff photographer, who had been keeping an eye on the couple from across the room.

"Yeah, looks like you're done," chortled Denny, "so get the hell out of here."

Taking Kendall by the hand, Beth pulled him outside, into a long narrow balcony at the back of the building. Leaning back against a wall, she drew him close, nibbling on his neck and french-kissing again. His hands started to roam across her back and then a bit lower. To his astonishment, Beth tugged up the hem of her t-shirt, giving him room to reach under the fabric and fondle her breasts through the front of her bra. He gave her boobs a gentle squeeze, and she began to moan and squirm as they swapped tongues.

After a few minutes of increasingly torrid necking, she pulled away again. "This isn't really very nice here," she pointed out, nodding over at some abandoned furniture and overflowing trash cans just a few yards away. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Now Kendall was stumped. He would have gladly kissed Beth McQuinn for hours on that balcony, but he couldn't see himself trying to sneak her past a bunch of sniggering housemates up to his bedroom.

Fortunately, Beth was in no mood to wait for him to suggest an alternative.

"How about back to my place?" she suggested, to Kendall's utter joy.

"Sure, just let me grab my jacket." And seconds later, ignoring Denny's jibes, Kendall and Beth were holding hands and walking the dozen or so blocks south towards her second floor room, chatting about events in their lives over the past week.

Less than five minutes later, Beth stopped to pull him into a shop doorway, and another round of passionate kisses. This time her right hand reached down the back of his pants to squeeze his ass, and Kendall realized that this evening was turning into more than just making out. With a burst of confidence, he found himself reaching to touch one of the breasts pressing into his chest. Marvelling at the feel of an actual tit in his hand, he caressed the nipple through the fabric of her black t-shirt and bra while they continued their tongue action.

Finally breaking their clinch, the couple began walking a little quicker, saying less than before, eager to arrive at their destination, interrupted only by another frantic round of necking and groping against the wall of a pizza parlour. And then Beth was unlocking the front door and leading the way up a flight of stairs to her apartment.

Opening the door, Beth called out "Wendy?" There was no answer, and she explained, "Just checking. She's spending the night at her boyfriend's place. If you need the bathroom, it's just down the hall. The woman who rents the other suite on this floor is away for the weekend."

Taking advantage of this chance to relieve himself of some beer, Kendall was soon back to look around the kitchen and the combination bedroom/living room, where Beth had turned on a floor lamp with a soft glow. The walls were covered with paintings and drawings, some complete, others evidently works in progress: still lifes, mostly, but also a few sketches of nudes. He was no art critic, but to the untrained eye, she seemed to have considerable talent.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked. Before he could reach a decision, she made if for him. "Or should we just get undressed?"

With that, Beth turned around and started slowly pulling up her t-shirt, glancing back over her shoulder to check his reaction. No further urging was needed. Kendall promptly pulled off his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his shirt, and yanked down his pants and underwear. Taking a little more time, Beth was unhooking her bra, then stepping out of her skirt. As she began skimming her panties down to her knees, Beth realized that Kendall was way ahead -- in fact, he might have set a new speed record for disrobing.

That was the occasion for her query, and for Kendall's sudden confusion. But to his credit, he finally managed to stammer out an answer.

"Yes, it is my first time," he blurted out, fearing that somehow this admission might dampen Beth's mood.

He needn't have worried. If anything, the news that she had a virgin to deflower seemed to heighten Beth's excitement.

"OK, tiger," she said with a growl. "Let's lie down here and have some fun."

Stretching out on the bed, Beth reached out to take Kendall by the hand. Drawing him down by her side, she gave the young virgin another deep kiss, as they began to fondle each other unimpeded by any clothing. He revelled in the taste of her tongue, the grasp of her hand on his erection, and the touch of her naked breasts and nipples. In seconds, they were clutching and sucking and fingering one another with giddy abandon. Kendall's excitement mounted with the realization that at any moment he would begin fucking this woman.

But not before a word of warning. "I stopped taking the pill when Rex went north for the summer," she said, taking him by one shoulder momentarily and looking him square in the eyes. "And I haven't got any rubbers here. So you can't come inside me, OK? We can do this, but you have to pull out before you come. Promise?"

"Sure, no problem," he agreed, eager for the main event, no matter what the terms. Gambling that he would keep his word, Beth laid back and opened her legs wide. He could see the glistening lips of her pussy, framed by her curly dark bush.

"Come here," she urged Kendall, holding out her arms.

He inched forward to kneel in front, right up against her thighs. For a few frustrating seconds he tried to maneuver his cock into the right spot, pushing first too high, then slightly off to the side. Finally she reached down to helped guide him in, and suddenly his erection was sliding into the warmest, wettest, most glorious passage imaginable. He pushed forward slowly, right up to the base of his penis, and then pulled gently back out, leaving only the head inside her lips. Back and forth, back and forth, he began easing in and out, exulting inwardly: "I'm doing it, I'm actually fucking her."

Showing control for a first-timer, Kendall up this pace for several minutes, watching Beth grow increasingly flushed, her breathing more rapid. Her hand tentatively reached down to her bush, and she began a rhythmic circling motion, using two fingertips on her clit. As Kendall realized that Beth was rubbing herself, he could tell that his orgasm was just moments away. After a few final slow thrusts, he pulled his cock out.

"Can I come on you?" he asked. Even as she neared her own climax, Beth had to smile at this endearingly polite request.

"Oh, yeah, come on, tiger" she gasped, frantically rubbing her clit as Kendall began stroking himself, hard and fast. It took only a few seconds, and suddenly his cum shot right across her belly and up between her breasts. That put her over the edge as well, and she let out a loud cry followed by what seemed to be a series of rippling climaxes. He watched in complete fascination until Beth finally relaxed with a long sigh.

No longer a virgin, Kendall embraced Beth, his sticky ejaculation spreading across their midsections. For some time they lay in that pose, basking in the moment. Finally she stirred, announcing "I'll just get us a washcloth." Kendall took in the sight of her glorious backside as she nimbly ran into the kitchen. He heard water running, and soon she was back to clean him up, too.