The Bittersweet Memoirs Ch. 01

We had a miserable dinner with leather, tough steaks and sad looking salads, my sister prickly and miserable like a cornered hedgehog facing a particularly unattractive snake.

After dinner, I walked back with Laura into our room, and looked at the bedding arrangement, before making eye contact with Laura. Though unspoken, I knew we'd arrived at the same question:

Do we separate the beds?

Without breaking our silence, Laura walked over to the edge of one bed, sat down, and began removing her shoes, little tan ballet flats, and her socks, white with small frills. There were unbearably cute.

I came up to her and sat beside her, the springs only just creaking as they adjusted to my weight, and put my hand on her back, massaging as I moved from her lower back up to her shoulder, resting my hand with my thumb on the zipper. I played with the metal zipper to alert her to what I was thinking, at which point she turned her head to face me, leaned in to kiss me, and after pulling back, bit her lip and nodded. I grasped the zipper, and as slowly as possible pulled it down.

She began to shuffle her shoulders, loosening the dress in an attempt to remove it, before I told her "no, wait", sat back further into the bed, and spread the now loose flaps of her dress with both hands, and began to properly massage her back. I rubbed my fingers into her flesh, her muscles knotted from the cramped car trip, as she melted forward, her elbows on her knees and head in her hands. I worked my hands into her skin, once more trying to meld us into one being, working the tension from her body, as she began to emit small, contented moans and gasps. At length, working from the base of her back upwards, I eventually reached her shoulders, and finally parted her dress, and she sat up straighter, allowing me to pass it over her arms, freeing her of the now sweaty garment. She stepped off the bed, stood up, and allowed the dress to fall to the ground, before turning to face me.

The very moment that dress hit the ground, my growing erection turned into a solid rock. Her breasts, a solid C or perhaps edging on D, were elegantly supported by a matching bra to her panties, black with cream lace, with vertical lines on the cups. She made a shy smile as I soaked in the view, thinking I was either dreaming, hallucinating, or losing my mind.

I stood, and my hands automatically retook their old position, one on her hip bone, over the fabric of her panties, and the other just below the edge of her bra, clasped around her ribs. I leant in and kissed her, wet, warm and passionate, trying to convey my feelings for her, which had rapidly escalated that afternoon, floodgates of affection opening and unleashing themselves on her. I began to make circles with the thumb that had taken up residence below her bra, the tip of it finding its way below her underwire, just making contact with the base of the mountains that formed her beautiful breasts. Her body shuddered perceptibly as I ran my thumb over that sensitive, untouched skin, and she broke away from the kiss to gasp, before resuming in a redoubled assault, and her hands removed my shirt, necessarily removing my hands from her body in the process.

My shirt removed and unceremoniously discarded with her dress on the carpeted hotelroom floor, I turned by body till I stood before her, the bed behind her, grabbed her hips with both hands, and gently pushed her backwards, her knees buckling as her calves met the edge of the bed, her eyes intense and hungry as they sought contact with mine. Her hands were on my chest, which at that time was well built from years spent in gyms and on tracks every day, the subtle lines of a unimpressive but undeniable sixpack adorned my stomach, and as she ran her hands from my lightly hairy chest down over my body, I lifted her at the hips and adjusted her further back onto the bed, before crawling in after her, leaning down to kiss from her neck, collar bones, down her sternum, down to her bellybutton and along the edge of her panties.

She was gasping for air by the time I reached her panties with my tender kisses, each lovingly placed on her salty skin, as I looked up and made eye contact with her and she bucked up her hips, almost whacking me in the chin with her pelvis, which I took as very solid evidence she wished for me to remove her panties. I was situated ideally between her thighs, her legs from the knee down had disappeared into another dimension as she had spread her legs to welcome me. I did not indulge her eager request to remove her clothing yet, instead turning my head, moving even further downwards, and kissing down the insides of her thighs, first the left, then the right. I could feel the heat of her pussy emanating strongly as my face approached her panties, could see the wetness that had grown in her panties, could smell her arousal. I lowered my head, and kissed her over the panties, where her pubic mount started. I could feel the hair below, see faint imprints of it under the fabric.

I kissed again, further down, over the place I knew concealed the mythical "clit", which I had heard so much about. I had some experience, my hands had found their way into a few pairs of pants over the years, but never before had I had a chance to do this. I kissed her again, a quick, almost comedic kiss, which caused her to giggle, before I sat up straighter, brought my hands forward, and ran them down the outside of her thighs, hooking my thumbs under her panties, then pulling them down as her knees buckled in, and her innocence was revealed to me, a tuft of dark hair formed a triangular patch over her mons, not trimmed too short, but with the edged cleaned up with a razor. For someone who had certainly not expected to end up with a face between her legs today, she had a very well kept pussy.

I placed my hands on her knees, and spread them again, diving bodily into her, my mouth kissing along her tanlines, where the faint imprint of the lace of her panties was still fresh on her pale, untanned skin, leaving a pink pattern. Her moans were sweet and unsure as I moved from left to right across that line, before reorienting myself above the triangle of hair that pointed to paradise. I planted soft, wet kissed above that patch of well groomed landscaping, then moved down, following the direction indicated by the triangle. My hands were cupping her butt, their backs pressed into the mattress and sheet, and I lifted her hips to meet my mouth, and she quickly picked up on what was happening, and pulled the spare pillow beside her into place under her round, shapely butt. Regardless, I did not remove my hands, simply let the pillow take the pressure off of them as they cupped her lovely cheeks.

I lowered my mouth the final hairs breadths down to her pussy, which glistened in the pale moonlight that entered through the shutters of the hotel windows, and kissed from the top of her pussy, above her clit, down the left side, her soft, smooth outer lips goosebumped and round, before returning up the right side, and extending my tongue out once I reach the top, burying it into her clit, but lightly, and her hips began to buckle. The sensation must have been overwhelmingly new and different for her, as I learnt later she did not even indulge herself before that night. I moved my tongue in undulating movements, left to right, right to left, varying pressure as it went over her sensitive little nub, before drawing circles with the tip of my tongue around it, occasionally flicking it from bottom to top with, and planting kisses on it.

Her bodies response was overwhelmingly positive, as she arched her back and pushed her hips into my face, and I lowered my tongue, giving her clit some much needed reprieve, and began to taste her wetness more properly. I ran my tongue down her labia, which was pink tinged with only the slightest edges of tan as it blended with her skin. She was sweet, musky and salty all at once, and altogether intoxicating. I found that I very much enjoyed the taste of pussy, and made a mental note to change my diet accordingly. I pressed my tongue against her wet, tight, virgin opening, and made slight circles with the tip on it, not trying to thrust it into her, only activate her nerves. It clearly worked, as she stifled what would have been a fairly audible moan through the thin hotel walls, and I was suddenly very appreciative of her discretion and thoughtfulness. Not that I particularly had an issue with my parents finding out about me and her, more due to the embarrassment of being overheard in a... Compromising position.

Hungrily I devoured her, still being mindful not to put too much pressure on her with my tongue, not to overwhelm her body. I wanted to savour this moment, this delectable instant in which the stars had aligned and everything had been utterly perfect, culminating in the sweet joining of two eager, lustful, and even loving souls. I sucked, kissed, licked and teased at her pussy, from the low wetness of her perfect entry, to the sensitive clit that made her buck and writhe, and the soft, generous lips around her pussy that framed it so perfectly. She ran her hands through my hair, grabbing at my scalp and holding me in place, unwilling to allow me to leave, let alone breathe. I was in heaven, but rapidly becoming aware of a growing cramp in my neck, which disappointed me, as I had wanted to bring her to a climax.

I began to only lightly, lazily lick her clit, and introduced my fingers to the equation, working on in, and making circular, small motions before adding another finger to her oppressively tight pussy. She was incredibly fresh, and I remember thinking then that she must never have even put a finger in herself, and wondered what was going on in France that girls did not even explore themselves. With two fingers in her, I began pumping them gently in and out of her, curling them upwards every time I was pulling out, trying to stimulate the upper wall of her pussy. Still my tongue lazily lapped at her perfection, as I felt the folds of her pussy enveloping my fingers.

I disengaged with her moist, glistening perfection, extracting an almost betrayed gasp from her, and wandered up until my face was in line with hers. She seemed utterly unfazed by the face my mouth would undoubtedly taste of her as I went in to kiss her, and was undeterred by the new flavour of her pussy, which I had been happily suckling on like a bear with a honeycomb. I felt her hands move to my back, and down to my waistband of my shorts as the pulled them down, having already undone the button at some point (though I had not noticed) and I looked at her, with intensity in my eyes, and asked her whether I should go get a condom (which like all 18 year olds I had in my wallet).

She took my comment along two trains of thought in her head, the first being "no, I'm on the pill", and the second being "he's asking whether I want him to fuck me, and that's a huge, resounding yes".

The resultant sentence was "yes, I'm on the pill".

Needless to say I spent a moment deep in confusion, before she shook her head, and said, "No condom, I have the pill. But please, fuck me."

It was strange hearing "fuck me" with her Frenchness and sweetness, almost incongruous with the image I had built of her, but I was not one to argue with those instructions. I knew she was telling the truth about the pill, I had actually overheard her talking with my mum about refilling the prescription she had for the pill, which she took to reduce period pain and control duration.

I lined myself up with her, already utterly rock hard, as only a man in the prime of his youth can be, and looked at her pretty face, her wide moonbeam eyes, and she nodded slightly, biting her lip, as I slowly made the plunge into her hot, incredibly tight pussy. She was wet, slippery and prepared with my entire (if limited by inexperience) arsenal of techniques, and the head of my generous, somewhat thick cock found its way into the guiding walls of her pussy. I am not particularly huge, only slightly longer and somewhat thicker than the average, but with her, I may as well have walked out of a computer from a porno. I was slow, gentle, even cautious and terrified of hurting her, and worked my way back and forth, inching ever forward in distances much smaller than inches, feeling her slick wetness coat my cock a little more every time.

My hips thrust into her in limited, controlled rocking motions, and my hands held her hips, controlling both of us so either bucked into the other too quickly, too deeply. Eventually, I was halfway inside her, feeling the tight, constricting walls stretch and struggle to accommodate me, as I leant down, still inside her, and kissed her, whispering sweet nothing into her ear, and gently began to extract myself and plunge back in, coating myself in more of her slick, sweet juices. Further and further I edged into her, her pussy lips gripping, clinging to the sides of my cock, strands of her lubrication remaining every time I rocked my hips back.

The feeling was undeniably incredible, as we lost our mutual virginities, sweating in a fresh new hotel, having steamed past every obstacle in our way like a freight train of lust and desire as our bodies ground against each other, and I finally bottomed out in her, my full, not inconsiderate length buried inside her hot wetness. As we collided, slowly at first, we were both straining to remain quiet, but our breaths were ragged, heavy gasps, interrupted and rasping as we strained, her with the overwhelming sensations and me with the effort rocking my hips into her and working our bodies like one, although I will admit I was unprepared for how intense sex would be (not realising at the time that few partners I'd have in the future would equal her).

Slowly, I built the pace, pounding rather than plunging, our bodies slamming together in a hurricane of ecstasy and hot, wet lust. The bed creaked ever so slightly, and the headboards luckily where cushioned wood, integral with the walls and did not slam against it. She began to push her hips back into my thrusts, and our lovemaking took on a new spirit, both of us working our bodies in unison, a furious fight of affection and almost urgency.

Her legs wrapped around the small of my back, and I moved my hands to the gap made under her arms, leaning in, as I powered my waist and she bucked her hips again, and again until our bodies made wet slapping noises against each other in the silence of the night. We must have been locked like that half an hour, which I recognise now was unusually long, however I've always struggled in bringing myself to orgasm, with or without assistance (a problem which has persisted ever since).

Eventually, sweaty, and panting, I extracted herself from her legs, which had glued themselves to my back, and turned her over, kissing her back as I set up her legs and arms in an ideal position to match our varying heights, and lined myself up to fuck her. I moved her hair to one side of her neck, so I could admire her face in the moonlight as I pounded myself into her slippery, wet tightness, which still seemed to threaten to push me out if I was not careful, however any of the earlier pain she felt had gone long, long ago to be replaced only by moans, and gasps and hunger.

I slammed my body against hers, and hers against mine with my hands on her hips, my muscles working hard to keep her momentum up with mine, feeling every tight fold of her pussy as my cock pushed part them. Enveloped in her hotness, I rocked and rolled my hips with hers, our pace steady but hard. Our panting and gasping breaths were loud, and I could see a corner of the blanket in her mouth as she suppressed her moans.

At length, I fucked her from behind, admiring the dimples of her back, and finally undoing her bra, which she promptly discarded, allowing me to reach around and tease her nipples, another totally new and overwhelming experience for her, however without being able to see them, to suck them, I was unsatisfied. I pulled out, and as she turned to look at me took her face into my hands, and slowly brought her up to kiss me, allowing her to twist her exquisite body to face mine, before I laid down and pulled her onto me, my hands working their way up from her waist to those perfect, perky breasts, with their pinkish brown areolas, probably only an inch and a half in diameter, and her nipples were pointy pencil erasers. I devoured her nipples, circling them with my tongue as the hardened and her back arched, her hips and my arms working in unison below. Her breasts were lovely, the skin pale, blue veins ever so slightly visible through translucent skin that had never seen the sun.

As she rode me, I felt the pressure at last begin to build, and regrettably disengaged with her lovely breasts, straightened, and whispered to her that I was about to cum. She paused in her gasping, mumbled out "mmhm", and kept riding, and at that point two things happened. I am pretty sure I fell in love with her, and I am pretty sure I developed a fetish for finishing in women.

It wasn't long after that that I exploded inside of her tight, formerly untouched pussy, and felt her lift herself off of me, and saw my cum leak out of her as she swung her body around to lay down next to my exhausted, ruined body. I think she felt much the same as she nestled into the crook of my shoulder and looked up at me with those big, gorgeous eyes, two dark chocolates swimming in milky white under the moonlight.

We slept very, very soundly that night and the next day, made no attempt to hide our affection. At breakfast we were civil, and polite, but before long she had kissed me in full view of my father, and my venomous sister.

Our relationship went well from there. That week-long holiday went much in the way of the first night, except we did not limit ourselves to the hotel.

I can fondly recall an especially wonderful occasion where we went out on a kayak, just me and her, and went out investigating a mangrove patch with many twist, turns and enclosed alcoves where in the sunlit privacy I untied her bikini top and for the first time admired her lovely breasts in the full, brilliant light of the sun. From that point on, we often fucked with the light on, as I was unwilling to waste a single moment which could otherwise be used to admire and worship her body.

When our vacation was finally at an end, she spent the car ride back leaning against me, sharing the headphones, with my hand under her, a finger swirling around her insides slowly, unseen by all.

At home, she swiftly moved into my room, where we slept together from then on, a symbiotic organism fuelled by adolescent lust and underdeveloped concepts of love.

We went on more vacations water that, including some particularly excellent camping trips, out in the lonely wilderness where privacy and solitude reigned supreme. We filled the hills and fields with cries and moans, and the wind that rustled through the gumtrees cooled the sweat on our bodies as we exposed ourselves to the moonlight, joined like one living, writhing mass of limbs.

It was a golden summer, months of love and sex and affection, followed by a brutal betrayal.

I cannot say for certain that this is precisely what happened, but I cannot think of anyone else who would have done such a thing.

You see, exchange students are not supposed to sleep with their hosts.

I can only suspect my sister, who was viciously unhappy with the relationship that had sprouted from nothing underneath her very nose. Whether it was due to jealousy, that I managed to befriend Laura (... and more), and she had not, or whether she simply did it out of spite, I cannot say.

I cannot even say for sure that she was the one who reported us.

Anyway, someone had reported her to the student exchange organisers, who promptly ripped her from my arms and moved her to a new family 7 train-ride hours away. Luckily, then were sympathetic to our plight, and allowed me to visit twice, however we were placed under strict supervision in the house, and definitely not allowed to sleep in the same bed.