Sex Summer

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"Yes," I replied, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't hold back. Is there some way I could hold it in, and still fuck?"

"Some men try to do that," she answered. "By slowing 'way down -- but that's going to slow down the woman, too -- or by thinking about something else. My husband told me he'd think about business. I don't believe it works very well, and I didn't like it when he told me. I'd like to think my man's attention is focussed completely on me and on the lovely thing we're doing. No, what is needed is what we call foreplay, things you can do before you screw. For example, when I had you handle my breasts. That was nice -- and you did it very well. If we'd done that for a while before you entered me I would have come a lot quicker -- not quick enough for you, but quicker. There's dozens of things you can do, and it will be the major part of your training. O.K.?"

"O.K.", I answered. What else could I say? "Just one thing. You said that when you had your orgasm you had to do it mostly yourself. What was that?"

"Oh, that was masturbating, one of the ways a woman can do it. I was rubbing my clitoris. Paul, do you know what the clitoris is?"

"No, ma'am," I answered, "I don't. Will you show me?"

"Oh yes! I want you to be very familiar with it ... you know, I think it's time to start the anatomy lesson. Please take off your clothes."

I did, gratefully.

"Let's start with you," she said, taking my now quite stiff prick in her hand. "What is this?"

"That's my prick," I answered.

"The technical word is 'penis'," she said, but we can call it 'prick'. Also cock, dong, pecker, rod, shaft, and probably a lot of other things. And the end, here?" she asked, pressing it.

I answered, "The head."

"Well, O.K., but 'glans' is more specific. And the area here, under the glans? It's supposed to be the most sensitive part," she said as she circled it lightly with a finger, giving me a wonderful sensation, "do you think that's true?"

"It sure could be," I said, "but I don't know the name,"

"It's called the corona. Now of course here are the testicles," she said, cupping my balls in her hand, "or balls, or family jewels, or whatever, and then -" her hand went between my legs along my crotch, pushed up between my ass cheeks, and I felt a finger probing the crack -- "there's your anus, or asshole. Together with your breasts" -- and now she brushed her palm lightly over my nipples, tickling them delightfully -- "those are your major erogenous zones."

"My ass is an erogenous zone?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised," she said. "Actually, any part of your body could be. Now let's study mine."

She untied the belt of her robe and pulled it open. There were those superb breasts, that narrow waist, the generous hips, the long, graceful legs, and the triangle of thin, fuzzy yellow hair pointing at the pink lips of her pussy. My cock twitched visibly.

"Now these, as you know, are my breasts," she said, lifting them slightly with her hands. "This is the aureole" -- she rubbed a finger of each hand around the wide pink circle in front -- "and this is the nipple." She took each nipple between thumb and forefinger and rolled them back and forth. "Some people call them the secondary erogenous zone. They aren't so secondary to me. I love having them handled. You must have some experience before with that, didn't you, Paul?"

"Uh, yes, some," I mumbled.

"Good," she said. "Now let's go to a better place to continue the demonstration."

She led me to one of the big easy chairs and sat down close to its forward edge, spreading her legs. "We will now discuss a woman's primary erotic zone. There are a lot of different names for the parts, and if you study this in a book on anatomy, which you should, you'll learn all the scientific names. But right now I think we'll just use common terms. This is my pussy." She pointed at it. "These are the outer lips." She placed her fingers on the two long, pink swellings and pulled them apart. "Inside are the inner lips. Come closer."

I did, and saw the redder, shiny outward bending folds, slightly separated.

"That's the entrance to my cunt. Take your finger and run it around the edge. Explore it."

Hesitantly, I did. I put my finger in the pocket between the outer and inner lips. It was warm, moist, slippery. I ran my finger it up and down, on both sides.

"For your information, Paul, that feels quite nice. Now put your finger in my cunt. Explore it. And move it in and out."

I did. The warmth and wetness encasing my finger seemed welcoming. I rubbed it, sensing the texture; put my finger in as far as I could, slid it out, in again, out, a dozen times before Carol said,

"All right, now look just above there. You should see something poking out, like a little prick, with a cover. That's my clitoris. Touch it. Gently."

I saw it. I was amazed; I hadn't heard anything about this. I touched it. I imagined it to be something like the head of my prick -- my glans, that is -- and lightly stroked it. It actually seemed to respond and grow a bit larger.

"All right," she said, "that will do. That is the most sensitive part of a woman's body. Ooh! Some day I'll show you what to do with it. In fact ... I know! I'll show you how I do it."

She lowered her right hand to her crotch and inserted the middle finger into her pussy, at the top of the labia majora (a term that popped into my head just then -- I had read some anatomy!) and started moving it up and down in short, slow strokes.

"I want some help here, Paul," she said, "come here and play with my breasts the way you did the other day."

I sat beside her and applied my mouth to the nearest breast and my hand to the other. I licked around the nipple, then sucked it in and out while gently squeezing the other. Her breath was coming faster.

"Oh, that's good!" she gasped, "I think I'm going to come. Paul, sit over there and watch. You should see it. And Paul, take care of yourself, too. Masturbate for me. I want to see you come."

I was astonished. I moved to the chair, but ... jack off now? With Carol watching? Well, damn it, I was watching Carol ... and my prick was so excited it was painful ... I grabbed it and started stroking. It took only seconds. Waves of pleasure struck and I came.

When I opened my eyes I saw Carol's body arched, her chest rising rapidly up and down, her hand almost vibrating on her pussy. She moaned, uttered "Ah, ah, ah!" and fell back into the chair.

She opened her eyes after a minute, and just then I saw how far I had shot my load. There was a streak of it on the floor between us, some on her chair, and some drops on the inside of her thigh. She noticed it too, following it with her eyes from my deflated cock to her leg. She smiled. She wiped her leg with a finger, held the finger up and licked it.

"Not bad," she said. "You came almost immediately, didn't you?" I confessed it. "I wish we could slow you down. The longer you wait the better it is, they tell me. Oh well, that will happen in time, I guess, and meanwhile we'll teach you all about foreplay. I won't make you masturbate again -- not unless you want to, that is. I want you inside of me. We'll just have to see that I get so worked up that we can come together, because that's so wonderful. All right?"

I assured her with all my heart that whatever she wanted, I would do. I got dressed and we shared one long kiss, her naked front pressed against me, before I went home.

I had one concern about my visits to Carol Matthews: visibility. I wanted our relations to be secret, and I assumed that she did, too, but it was impossible; there were so many exposures. A major one was the group of late sunbathing women around the Flowers' pool. I tried to avoid their eyes as I went by them on my way to Carol's apartment, while stealing glances at all that skin barely covered by tiny bathing suits, but I certainly attracted their attention. One delectable redheaded woman caught me looking several times and would smile and put her pink tongue out at me. When I told Carol about it she told me not to worry. They were all horny, she said, and would go after anything wearing pants. She was sure they were jealous of her having a young, good-looking regular visitor. And some of them, she added, didn't care about pants; they were more interested in the nearly naked bodies near them, and were jealous of me. At the time I didn't understand that part, and let it go.

Mr. Swanson noticed my growing eagerness to take off as soon as the store closed and ride off to the Flowers. He didn't repeat his earlier warning but just said, "Ah, to be young and free. You know, we used to call that place 'Deflower'. Good luck, kid!"

My parents noticed the long gap between the end of work and my arrival home but didn't press me with questions. "Oh, just fooling around" passed as an explanation but I sensed its being swallowed with large grains of salt. I imagined the whole town knowing that I was fucking Carol Matthews and sneering at me, and knew that I would gladly pay that price and more for the fantastic privilege. Only when I was older did I realize that not that many people knew or cared and that many of them would agree that I was very fortunate.

On my next visit Carol was again wearing that thin robe and, no doubt, nothing else. After greeting me with a long, busy kiss she said "Paul, I've been thinking about you, and it's got me very excited. I really must bring you along in foreplay. What I have in mind for today is rather advanced, but I'm sure you can handle it. And we're going to fuck, too."

Her hands reached for my belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down, and pulled my shorts down over my already very stiff cock. She wrapped her hand around it and said, "You just wait, buddy." I took off everything else. She untied her robe, threw it in a corner, pulled me into the bedroom and lay on the bed, legs lifted and widespread.

"Come here," she ordered, "and make love to my breasts."

I was there in a moment, my mouth on one breast, a hand on the other. I licked and sucked and massaged just as she'd taught me, for a long time, while an occasional murmur or wriggle of her body told me how much she was enjoying it.

"Put your hand on my pussy," she told me next, "and feel my clit. Stroke it, gently."

I did that, carefully, sliding my middle finger between her most labia, finding the little bud and moving over it lightly.

"Now put your finger in my cunt and fuck me with it." I lowered my finger, found the opening, and inserted, savoring the slick closeness as I moved it in and out. "Oh, sweet!" she said, "and now comes the best part. Get down between my legs and put your head in my crotch."

I did; my face was an inch from her pussy. I felt her warmth and there was a faint odor I didn't recognize.

"Stick out your tongue and run it up and down between the lips."

Her pussy lips parted easily. I thrust my tongue in an inch and, moving my head, ran it up and down.

"Oh, yes! Put your tongue in my cunt, too!"

I pushed it out as far as I could and felt it slide into the warm enclosure. I drew it out and then back in, imagining that I was fucking her with it. I wiggled it up and down, varied that with a sideways motion, pulled back and swept it around her inner lips. I don't know what inspired these variations; they just seemed right.

"Oh, honey! Up a little -- lick my clit!"

I found it and gave it gentle strokes.

"Yes, yes! Put your lips on it! Suck it in and out!"

Her voice was tense, urgent. Her hips were trembling. All my being was focussed doing what she asked. I put my lips on the clitoris, sucked it in, pushed it out with my tongue, sucked, pushed, sucked, pushed, as she started to moan. She had her hands on my head and was pulling me into her. I resisted to keep my mouth where it could work most effectively.

Her voice rose, she groaned "Oh, oh, oh," for a long minute, then her hands relaxed, the trembling stopped, and she said, weakly, "All right, stop."

I lay there still, my lips covered with some wetness she had produced, glowing with the knowledge that I had given her a very real orgasm.

"Paul," she said at last, "that was just lovely....Now it's your turn. I want you to fuck me. I want your prick inside me. You can do whatever you like, but my advice is, just take it as slowly as you can. You can rest inside, just let it ie there, we'll both like that. Now come up here and put it in."

I moved up between her widespread legs. With my arms outstretched I could see well enough to aim my prick right and brought its head to touch her soft outer lips. I pushed in. I found the entrance to that warm, wet tunnel and slowly entered. It felt wonderful.

"You can lie on me," she said, "get close." I eased myself onto her and felt her breasts on my chest. "Stay way inside like that and just move a little," she told me, "I'll show you something."

Suddenly it seemed like a ittle hand had encircled my penis -- her cunt was squeezing it! It was too much for me; my hips were moving of their own accord, the slick, tight motion was exciting beyond belief, the sensations built up and up and exploded in a glorious, shattering climax. I lay on her, dazed, for minutes while her hands stroked my back and ass.

My sex slavery was confirmed. I couldn't help thinking about Carol, night and day. She let me come to her three or four times a week. The time spent away from her was spent longing for her; the time with her was heaven. My hands and tongue explored every part of her body, and my tongue, especially, learned to know every fold and bump of her sweet cunt. She taught me how to bring her quickly to roaring orgasm. Soon our practice was for me to go down on her until she came, at least twice, and then mount her for a wonderful fuck. Our timing became skilled: after two or three orgasms I would bring her to the verge of the next one, then mount her, and our fucking would bring us to nearly simultaneous climaxes, the greatest sensation there ever was.

She added some small extras to our principal entertainment. She showed me how it felt to have my cock in her mouth: very interesting, but brief, thus no match for her pussy. She had me lubricate a finger and insert it in her asshole, and she did the same to me. It didn't do much for her, she said, and I found the feeling weird. We kept to our basics: kissing mouths, nipples, her cunt, and eating and fucking her. It was a very full diet.

The rest of my life that summer seems like a pale shadow. I lost any embarassment about my devotion to Carol, and no one harassed me about it. I'm sure my parents knew about it, my employer certainly did, and all the women around the Flower's pool did (and a number of them looked at me as if to say, "We'd like to have some, too!"). Even my masturbation dropped off. Of course I'd jack off on the days I couldn't be with her, imagining that my lubricated hand was her wonderful cunt; but if I knew I'd be seeing her soon I saved my sperm for her. I don't know what she did with it but by the end of summer she must have handled gallons.

Horribly, the summer had to end some time. I fought it. At one point I decided to scrap my plans for college and stay in town, with Carol. When I told her that she said that she was deeply touched, but that she had to be firm with me. First, about my own life: I had to move on. As wonderful as our relationship was, it was certainly not permanent, and this would be the time to end it. I would find (with all I had learned from her!) other women, enjoy their differences, and give and get endless pleasure. But life had other needs besides sex -- even if they took second place -- and I had to think about some kind of career. Moreover (and this was terrible to hear) she was going to leave. She had been offered a teaching job in California that sounded ideal, and she was accepting it. No, I could not go with her. Yes, she would miss me and my body. No, she had no plans for replacing me, but.... This talk went on for days, practiclly in the middle of our lovemaking. I even cried once, my tears falling on her face as I lay on her body thinking that my throbbing prick, now embedded in her warm cunt, would never have as sweet a home again.

Carol was right: I had to get on with my life. I even helped her pack up what she was sending to California, which wasn't a lot. She was leaving her car and most of what was in her apartment to a friend. I was disappointed that she wouldn't let me go to the airport with her. We had a restrained goodbye in front of the Flower, and she gave me a last wave as she drove off with her friend at the wheel. I cycled home depressed but determined to get on with it..

Carol was right about something else: the excellence of her training. When I got to the University I found hundreds of attractive girls, looking for adventure. When I could get a girl's panties off (which wasn't all that hard) I could give her the best time of her life. My depression vanished and I had a very nice Freshman year!

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4 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 6 years ago
Positive beginning

But then it ZOOMED. The first thing was cock in pussy. No foreplay, no slow buildup. Sex? Yes. Erotic? No.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago
Epic

Amazing story keep up the work 5 stars

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
WOW! A great story-

leading to some great day dreams! Very well done!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
A teen dream!

Every young guy's dream!!

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