Summer Sexploits

My wife and I have enjoyed an active and exciting sex life for many years, and I recently began sharing stories detailing some of our sexual exploits, or sexploits, with Literotica readers.

By the way, I don't think sexploits is considered to be a real word, since it is not in my Webster's Dictionary, and the spell-checker on my computer does not recognize it, but portmanteau words, created by blending two or more words together, are used very often, even in scholarly literature. A good example of a portmanteau word is the name of this very web-site, Literotica!

But back to my point.

I have written multiple stories for Literotica describing some of the sexploits my wife and I continue to share, including many involving our two dearest friends, a sweet lesbian couple with more sexploits of their own than anyone could even count.

Often, my wife reads my stories before I submit them to Literotica, but the tale before you is an exception, in that she did not read it first, because, excepting this introduction, it does not include her, and because it is not true. What is true is this: several weeks ago my beautiful and alluring wife asked me to create an erotic fantasy about a sexual encounter outside of our marriage. Maybe this is some sort of test, I don't know. But I gave her request a lot of thought, while enjoying the process immeasurably in a surrealistically erotic and kinky sort of way, and imagined the following story.

For the record, and the preservation of my longstanding marriage, the events described herein are fictitious, as I already mentioned, and are set to have occurred before my wife and I were married.

*****

I grew up across the street from the only high school in a small town which was surrounded by even smaller towns, and as a youngster I used to marvel at the yellow buses coming and going from a wide radius of nearby communities. I watched the boys and girls gather in separate groups after school with their books and folders, each group keenly aware of the other but pretending not to be interested. I saw the boys with their smart varsity jackets and duffel bags, and imagined how it would feel to be so grown up, but mostly I gazed at the girls and their long, shapely legs and pert breasts, and the way they shook their heads and covered their faces when they giggled at the boys who did stupid things to gain their attention.

I knew someday I, too, would take my place among my own group of peers and pretend not to be infatuated with the budding sexuality of the opposite gender. I couldn't wait!

Eventually it was my turn to attend high school, and my house, since it was right across the street, became an unofficial hang-out for classmates of both genders waiting for their buses. I can't really say I was popular or had a lot of real friends, but on a superficial level, everybody knew me. I was the kid who lived across the street.

Senior year began with a transfer student, whose father was recently discharged from the Army, joining our class. She was tall and clumsy, pale-skinned, had braces on her teeth, and wore thick glasses. Her hair was mousy. She was quiet. Some of the other kids started calling her "Lurch" behind her back, after the tall butler from the Addams Family reruns on TV.

As I mentioned, I was not one of the popular kids in my class, but sometimes I felt like the unofficial social director because so many of my classmates hung out at my house after school waiting for their buses.

On one of the first days of school, I noticed the new girl standing all by herself waiting for her bus, and I invited her to wait at my house with the other kids.

Her name was Wanda, and once the rest of us got to know her, she was really a riot to be around. At seventeen years of age, most of us had never been any further from home than the next state, but Wanda had traveled all around the world and knew swear words in several different languages. She was worldly and mature in ways most of us could not understand. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was the first friend she made at her new school, and would later reap the benefit.

Fast-forward to the summer following my first year of college, when happenstance caused Wanda's and my paths to cross for the first time since high school graduation.

A few of us old high school buddies had gotten together and piled into someone's station wagon for an afternoon at a small lake about half an hour out of town. As we rode along the dirt roads, the talk became raunchy, with various members of our group bragging, or most likely, lying, about all of the girls they had "done it" with since the last time we were all together. The laughing and carrying on continued as we spilled out of the station wagon and commandeered a spot on the sand a few yards from the water, right next to a group of sunbathing girls who seemed to be doing their best to ignore the libidinous loudmouths encroaching upon their space.

None of us wore actual swimming trunks in those days, just cut-off blue jeans or whatever we happened to have, and my white cotton gym shorts did not seem at all out of place, until they got wet. This change in my appearance never occurred to me until I stepped out of the lake, to the cat-calls and cackling laughter of my former classmates, and even then, I did not immediately recognize the object of their levity.

Like most red-blooded teenage boys, it took very little to get me physically aroused, so to speak, and the gentle touch of the tepid lake water against my most vital organ was enough to have me strutting, shamelessly unaware, across the wet sand with my transparent gym shorts unable to conceal the fully loaded weapon packed within.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, the entire beach was quiet, with all eyes directed on me. They were not looking at my face.

By the time I understood the reason for such undivided attention, it was too late. Red-faced but still rock-hard, I returned to the water as the bellowing continued.

It was a shallow lake, and fifty yards out, the water was only as deep as my shoulders, but at this depth, my throbbing member and I felt safe from the eyes of the world.

Sufficiently obscured from view, I turned toward the shore, and noticed a familiar face among the girls who were roused from their tanning blankets by the sudden commotion, that is to say, something about the face was familiar. Gone were the braces and thick glasses, the hair was sun-bleached and the skin no longer pale, but as sure as I was standing up to my shoulders in lake water, that face belonged to my old classmate Wanda. She stood as her eyes met mine, and without saying a word, walked gracefully into the lake toward me.

The laughter and cat-calls continued, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the beautiful figure heading my way. Wanda had changed! Always taller than the other girls in our school, her figure had perfectly caught up with her height: round, supple breasts peeking above the dark blue fabric of her sexy two-piece bathing suit, smooth skin glistening with tanning oil in the midday sun, slim waistline, and hips just the right size to complement the overall picture, with the dark blue triangle of fabric concealing from sight, but not from mind, the wonders it held within. As she stepped into the water, like the swimsuit model she appeared to be, her radiant smile seemed brighter than the sun, and she was smiling at me.

Naturally, seeing Wanda, and what a knockout beauty she had become, did nothing to diminish my arousal.

I tried to think of something clever to say to her as she drew near, but all I could manage was, "Hi, Wanda!"

She hugged me like we were long-lost lovers, her soft skin turning mine to goose-flesh, then whispered into my ear, "How have you been?"

Before I could answer, she kissed me, directly on my mouth, and held hers there for a wonderful moment while ten of the most sensuous fingers caressed my back beneath the surface of the lake.

By this point I felt like my gym shorts would rip apart at the seams due to my ever increasing arousal, and I was certain Wanda could feel me poking into her leg under the water.

"I ..." I started to say when Wanda broke our kiss, but no sooner were her lips once again pressed against mine, and then the most wonderful thing happened, she pushed her tongue into my mouth. I had heard about French kissing a few times, but had never tried it before, and the feeling was so intense I felt light headed and thought I might pass out right there in the lake and drown if Wanda had not been supporting me.

A horrific vision occurred to me, in which my lifeless body was dragged from the water and laid on my back upon the sandy beach, looking like a sailboat with a full mast but no sail, my white gym shorts still wet and transparent.

Then something even more wonderful happened. Five of the ten fingers that were caressing my back reached around to the front of my gym shorts and squeezed me in such an amazing way that I practically choked on Wanda's soft tongue as she continued exploring the depths of my mouth. This only caused her to kiss me more passionately, sucking my tongue into her mouth for a duel with no apparent guidelines.

Then she reached her hand inside of the elastic waistband of my gym shorts and gripped me firmly, breaking our kiss once again long enough to ask, "What's this?"

"It happens sometimes," I stammered apologetically. "It'll go away after a while, I think."

"I know how to make it go away," she said with a smile that sent a chill all the way down to my toes, buried in the sand on the bottom of the lake.

Then she put her mouth back on mine as if demonstrating artificial respiration and started stroking me, slowly at first but then faster as involuntary moans of ecstatic pleasure from the depths of my loins escaped my lips, still locked onto hers.

It felt incredible! I couldn't imagine anything ever feeling better in my life than Wanda's hand at that precise moment! Soon enough I was gasping for breath in the throes of my most intense orgasm, and for the record, the first orgasm I had ever experienced at that tender age other than by my own hand.

And Wanda was right, she did know how to make my rigidity go away, at least temporarily.

I was still gasping for breath when she took one of my hands and gently touched it to her chest, then directed my other hand between her thighs and squeezed them together.

"You owe me one," she said with a wicked smile that sent another chill to my toes. "Have you ever done it?"

"Oh, sure," I lied, "lots of times."

"I'll spank you if I find out you're lying," she teased.

We were still locked in a tight embrace, with our faces just about an inch apart, and as she spoke, her warm breath made the cool skin of my neck tingle.

I cupped one of her breasts, just below the surface of the lake, and squeezed it gently, not really sure what would feel good or what would hurt, and reached a finger inside of her bathing suit top to touch her protruding nipple, exploring south of her equator with my other hand. She spread her legs a little to give me easier access, and I reached a couple of fingers inside of the leg band of her bathing suit for my first feel of her most intimate place. She smiled and momentarily rested her head on my shoulder as my fingers discovered the space between her labial folds.

By this time, and not unexpectedly, my short reprieve of flaccidity had ended and I was once again as stiff as a railroad spike. This did not go unnoticed by Wanda.

"What is it with you?" she teased, beginning to stroke me again and sending more waves of orgasmic pleasure to every part of my waterlogged body.

"I don't know," I answered, although I thought it must have been a rhetorical question.

"I do know," she giggled. "By the time we get out of this lake, you're going to owe me two!"

I closed my eyes and nodded. I think I would have agreed to anything at that moment.

Then she added, "Have you ever eaten a fur burger?"

I had never heard that expression before, but felt like I could guess its meaning.

"No," I answered softly as Wanda's hand worked its magic.

"You will," she whispered seductively, her lips once again touching mine, then darted her tongue rapidly in and out of my mouth to demonstrate as she increased the pace of her stroking.

I closed my eyes and nodded again.

My second orgasm was even more intense than the first and left my entire body feeling like a wet rag in Wanda's skillful hands.

She kissed me again and then led me from the water, instructing me to walk behind her for modesty's sake until I could get wrapped in a towel.

By the time we returned to our respective beach blankets, the two camps, that is, the boys and the girls, had converged into one large camp and were sharing some of the snack food items each had brought along. None were paying the least attention to Wanda and me, recently back from the depths of the lake.

"Don't forget about that fur burger," Wanda whispered into my ear, darting her tongue in and out a couple of times and sending another chill throughout my body.

I couldn't think about anything else!

Twenty minutes later, under the guise of going to change out of our swimwear, Wanda and I walked hand in hand to the back seat of the station wagon, where we laid on our beach towels and I had the pleasure of eating my first fur burger. It was the highlight of my life, up to that point! She smelled and tasted so amazing, so womanly, it was like nothing I could ever have imagined!

Wanda guided my head with both hands and instructed me when to slow my pace or speed up, and I licked, sucked, and nuzzled every part of her female anatomy I could reach. She spread her legs wide apart and held my hand as I pushed one, two, and finally three fingers into her sopping wet vagina while I lapped up every drop of her delicious female nectar and circled her swollen clitoris with the soft underside of my eager tongue, her breathing and low moans the most beautiful music I had ever heard.

It wasn't easy to bring her as much pleasure as she had provided me in the lake, but I was very intent to learn all she could teach me about eating fur burgers, and determined to invest as much time and energy as necessary to achieve the desired effect. When I eventually hit the jackpot, so to speak, she bucked her hips so wildly I was afraid she was going to break my nose!

She finally pulled my wet face up to hers for more French kissing while she fought to return her breathing to normal, then hugged me so tightly I thought we would both pass out. When she released her clamp-like grip, I leaned down and kissed her private area very gently while she ruffled my hair with her fingers.

"You're a fast learner," she said. "Are you sure you never ate a fur burger before?"

"Oh, I would certainly remember it," I said, adding, "I'll never forget what you did for me in the lake, and what you let me do to you here."

"And I'll never forget that you made me feel welcome when I was new at school," she said, ruffling my hair again as I continued to bestow soft kisses upon her magnificently aromatic fur. "Now get back up here, I want to kiss you some more!"

"But I owe you two," I pleaded my case, holding up two fingers and kissing her vagina twice, loudly, for emphasis. "Don't you remember?"

"Maybe we can work out some kind of rain-check," she said, pulling my face up to hers and kissing me passionately.

"What are your plans for the rest of the summer?" she asked after breaking a long, intoxicating kiss.

"Just working and eating fur burgers, I guess," I answered with a shrug, then rested my full weight on top of her and sucked her tongue into my mouth.

And that was how we spent the rest of that summer, working and practicing our night moves, to paraphrase an old Bob Seger song. I used her to teach me everything I always wanted to know about sex but had been too shy to ask, she used me to get her daily required dose of orgasmic bliss, but neither of us cared, because we were both getting our share.

Wanda was worldly beyond anyone I had ever met in my small town high school, I guess I knew that right from the start. Over the course of those next few months of summer recess from college, we got together whenever and wherever we could, and I learned more from her than in all of my years of education. I got to know, intimately, every inch of her incredible body, and she was the first person with whom I shared mine.

After the sun went down on Labor Day, and I likewise went down on Wanda for one last taste of her exquisite fur burger, we returned to our respective colleges with no pretense of continuing our summer romance. We were still kids, after all, with ambitions driving us in separate directions. The lessons I learned that summer, however, have served me well throughout my life, and I hope Wanda can say the same.

Although much older now and settled in our own lives, our paths still cross every now and again, one of life's certainties for those of us who hail from small towns. Whenever that happens, Wanda and I always share a secret smile, while concealing a fond memory of our private summer of love.

The moral of the story is, always be nice to the new person, even if she, or he, is an ugly duckling. It will not cost you anything, and you never know when or where you might meet again, or where your initial kindness might lead. Mine led to some important life lessons, a friendship that lasts to this day, and a whole summer of great sex with a beautiful swan!