Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 01


"You know what I mean Rick, what if a police car pulled in?"

"I reckon they'd ogle you through the window as they asked me a few questions, very, very slowly."

I couldn't help smiling at both his attitude and the way that he was slowly opening my track suit top again.

"Tell you what," he said quickly, "if we go right to the far end of the car park, over by that big tree, we can park under it and no one will see us and if anyone drives in we'll see their lights first. Ok?"

He cuddled me to him as he finished talking, kissing me and caressing my tummy. "Yes Sam, yes? Let's do it, I so want you, so want to see you and make love to you. You're such a totally desirable woman Sam, I just can't help myself."

Again, his choice of words was so perfect for the situation. I didn't know whether that was purely coincidental and lucky or whether he knew just what he was doing. I didn't care, though, for he was saying the things I wanted to hear. I wanted to be wanted, I wanted him to want to make love to me, I wanted him to think I was, and to treat me as, a woman, not a schoolgirl.

"OK, but directly we see a car we stop, yes?"

As he clambered back into the front he said over his shoulder.

"Of course."

We were hardly parked up when he was alongside me in the back again removing my top and bra almost in one go.

"Let me have the top," I said to make sure I could cover myself quickly if necessary.

We kissed again and once more he caressed and squeezed my boobs and nipples before slipping his hand down onto my thigh. My legs were closed, his erection pushed firmly against the outside of my thigh.

I obviously knew what was coming next; after all that's how seductions go isn't it? That's the process. Some kissing, tit caressing, bare them and then check out below. See if she's up for the whole bit, well at the very least some fingering and if you're lucky maybe a wank. And of course, if you are really, really lucky you might get a shag. That's the men's charter for sex isn't it? At least that what we girls think and so far Rick had followed it to the tee!

But then suddenly there was a major diversion, a change of rules, a breaking of the procedure. Instead of his hand squirming its way between my thighs, opening them a bit and then sliding upwards to the "promised land," his hand grabbed mine. I didn't know why at first, but that quickly and spectacularly became very clear.

It was big, very hard and surprisingly warm. His erection through the thin, material of his track trousers that is, for with a confidence my limited sex career had not yet encountered, he'd taken my hand and put it right on his hard on.

"Oh yes Sam," he groaned, just as if I'd put it there myself. "That's wonderful, baby, stroke it for me."

I didn't really know what to do, but now being an experienced woman, a tried and tested lover I let my womanly instincts take over. His grunting and sighing, the pushing of his cock against my hand and the fervid way he kissed me and caressed my chest told me I was on the right lines.

After that it all became somewhat hazy and muddled. I forget the sequence of things and all the little nuances; my mind failed to recall the details; I couldn't remember how my hand was suddenly inside his track trousers, holding and rubbing his cock; I don't know how my trousers came to be round my ankles and my panties round my knees. I knew we kissed and kissed and kissed and that his mouth did the most wondrous things to my nipples; that for the first time they were sucked, licked, chewed and gently bitten. I had no idea just how powerfully arousing and how shatteringly exciting it was to have your tits sucked and your nipples chewed, particularly when you're holding and stroking an urgent, throbbing cock and his fingers are exploring your insides at length and in depth.

Like that I forgot that I was not an experienced lover; that I had not had sexual encounters with the intensity of this; that I was not the mature womanly lover I was desperately trying to be and that I was what I was. An eighteen year old girl who'd only lost her virginity three weeks previously. And such girls have no resistance to such advances, we cannot hold out, our body isn't able to stop the stimulations and our mind isn't capable of overruling the physical demands. But then neither was Rick, neither was my experienced older lover, for as I rubbed his fantastic cock he started to grunt and groan and push it harder against my hand. It was as though he was fucking my hand and not my pussy. But somehow his thrusts against my hand and his fingers inside me had the same effect as if I was being shagged, well not the same as those with Kelvin, for these feelings were a load more powerful.

I moaned, I grunted, I groaned, sighed and almost cried as I felt his hot, sticky mess creep across my hand and thigh.

"I've made him cum," I thought proudly. But I had little time self-congratulations, for as he'd started to cum so he'd shoved his fingers deeper into me and had started pumping them. That instantly put me over the top and I too started cumming.

I was sobbing and hanging onto Rick so desperately as wave after wave of such fantastic feelings engulfed my mind and body that I knew then that it indeed was pins and needles with Kelvin in his mum's Audi TT.

Richard, or Rick as he liked to be called, educated me so much on that big, black beamer seat.

He gave me, what was my first real orgasm. He later gave me my second, third, fourth and fifth ones as well that evening. He taught me just how amazing it is to have your breasts made love to and how incredibly sensitive is that piece of gristle at the entry to your pussy, that boys can rarely find let alone stimulate. He also fucked me properly. Just the once after recovering from the hand job. Yes just the once, but what a once.

I can remember thinking, as he slid the condom off, tied it into a knot and then threw it from the car, that I'd been shagged properly. That I'd at last I'd made love fully, that now I really was a woman because I'd been fucked like one on that back seat.

Unlike Kelvin, Richard didn't rush things. Unlike the other boys I'd messed around with there was no signs of guilt or concern over what we doing, no apparent worries as to whether I would or not, but then why should there be between two experienced adults like us, I thought, my tongue very much in my cheek as I thought it

No we'd started our sexual relationship in an open, uninhibited way. In a way that was wonderfully enthusiastic, awesomely erotic and fantastically sordid all at the same time.

Sure I'd been fingered before and yes I'd given a couple of boys hand jobs, so what Richard did to me wasn't new; the way he did it though was very new, very different and very, very much more exciting and satisfying. I really felt that we'd shared something so, so special together.

After we'd both cum we just lay there for a while with me feeling very grown up cradling my lover to my naked bosom, just like the novels say it should be. I knew nothing first hand about men's recovery rates and how these varied between kids in their teens and men in their thirties. I didn't know that the older a guy got and the more experienced he was the longer, generally, it took for him to be ready again. So after twenty minutes or so I was expecting Richard to be ready again, for I was. But other than a few little kisses and the occasional caress he simply laid there holding me.

"That was wonderful Sam," he suddenly sighed, "you did enjoy it didn't you?"

I was probably a little too gushing with my reply that I felt, as it came out of my mouth, might well blow the impression I was trying to create of being so much more experienced than my sexual portfolio of a few times with Kelvin.

"Oh yes, yes, yes, Richard it was awesome, it was wicked, it almost blew me away."

"I see you did like it then," he said looking up at me and smiling and adding, "quite a lot then?"

"Yes Rick, you could say that, and you, was it good for you too?"

"It was babe; you have as natural a talent for this as you do for tennis."

"Gee thanks, remember my tennis was crap earlier."

"Saving your strength for me weren't you?"

We chatted on like this for a while with me wondering just when he was going to make another move. I wanted that, for having gone this far with him I didn't want the evening to end without him shagging me. I had to keep reminding myself, as we lay there, with me still as good as naked, that this was grown up sex, they didn't rush things or hurry the natural process, it was up to me to be patient. I was in very experienced hands I told myself and Rick would know absolutely the perfect time to get things going again. And he did.

As we chatted so his fingers started running over my tummy. Making little circles he'd run them upwards towards my boobs then down towards my pubes. They went round and round going upwards, then round and round going downwards; nearer and nearer to my breasts and closer and closer to my pussy. All the time talking about pretty non-sexual matters, he was starting to drive me crazy with want.

I slid my hand down between us. I wanted to feel him, to hold him and stroke him. Slipping my hand inside his trackie trousers I was surprised not to have them find his erection. I fumbled around a bit as he continued drawing circles on my body, still going near but not quite touching my real erogenous. Men's boxers and shirttails can be such a maze to get through, particularly when, as was the case I found to my horror with Rick, they aren't erect. I found and grasped his, at best and being very generous, half erection feeling amazingly disappointed and really, terribly hurt.

I'd never touched anything other than a full erection before and had no idea that sometimes the woman has to help her partner gain his full rampant majesty.

"What's wrong with me? Why hasn't he got hard, what have I done wrong?" I was thinking as on one of his upwards sweeps his finger trailed across both of my breasts.

"Mmm that's good Sam, keep doing that," he murmured rolling more onto his die to give me more room. "Yes, yes, just like that," he went his fingers sweeping across my pubes and then up and across my nipples.

He moved away a bit and in the dim light I saw that he was pulling his trousers down. I helped him to struggle them and his boxers right down round his ankles. I was holding him again and I couldn't help sneaking glances at his tackle, for I'd never been with a boy and looked at them and not seen a full hard on.

"Mmmmmm, that's lovely," he muttered as, with my confidences growing, I not only stroked his cock but, tentatively at first then more assuredly, I stroked, cradled and rolled his balls in my hands. That felt wonderful to me. It was something I'd never done before, but there and then in that car I resolved that it was something I was going to do many, many more times. As I loved his cock and balls so he was squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples and running his fingers over my mound, alongside my clit and round and round the soaked perimeter of my pussy.

All the concern, the disappointment and the self-doubt were disappearing, and fast. They were being more than compensated for by yet another load of new sensations for me. Other than have it happen in your mouth, but that was something for much later, I don't think there can be a warmer, more endearing, loving, sharing, caring and sheer fucking sexy feeling than having your lover's cock grow to its full size in your hands. If, at the same time, he's using both his hands on your breasts and pussy and sucking and slurping at your nipples, then clearly it's erotic paradise next stop.

He was now fully hard and as good as naked; I was soaking wet and also as good as naked; he was ready and I was ready. And we just simply did it.

He slipped a condom on, pushed me even further back into the corner of the car, and laid between my legs that I knowingly opened for him. A moment or two getting the angle right as we kissed and his arms went round me his hands finding the bare cheeks of my bum and then we were doing it.

The whoosh of feelings as he surged up me took my breath away and it stayed like that as he started to fuck me. He was thrusting quickly up and down my pussy. Using long deep surges the tip of his cock went to totally unvisited areas of my insides. He found places up there that were so wonderfully sensitive that it seemed to me as if my entire pussy was alive.

I was groaning and moaning; my head was thrashing from side to side; my body almost convulsing and I was finding it hard to breath, so intense were both the emotional and physical reactions to this awesome fuck. What Rick was doing to me was as far away from what Kelvin had done as Concorde was to Kittyhawk.

I tried to resist, I tried to think and act experienced, I tried to give something back and I tried, as I'd read a woman should do, to find his rhythm. But when being fucked as I was all those plans, efforts and thoughts go out the window.

Chapter 3

"Oh no baby, you keep that blazer, shirt, tie and skirt on, I want to fuck you in them," Richard said.

And fuck me in them he did.

We'd had no contact at all for a few days after that momentous evening in the woods. I hadn't heard from him and he wasn't at the Thursday evening club night. We hadn't exchanged mobile numbers so he couldn't call me. I was so relieved, then, to see him on the next court to me on the Saturday morning.

I tried to catch his eye and when I thought I had a couple of times, I smiled and mentally at least pushed my breasts out. I'd purposefully worn the low-cut top and the skimpy, tight, pink skirt he'd told me I looked great in and I'd removed my track suit even though the mid-May morning was a little chilly and hardly anyone else had. But all to no avail. Other than a couple of nods from him and a small smile, there were no other acknowledgements. I was hurt, confused and miserable and I played lousy, causing my partner and me to be beaten by a far inferior couple.

I finished playing well before him. Although I tried no too, I couldn't help glancing out the clubhouse window and watching him bound round the court. I saw his strong arms playing powerful fore and backhands and as he did so I recalled them around me. I thought of his hands, that I watched holding the racket and when he served the tennis balls, on me, all over my breasts, removing my clothes and lifting me up so I could sit astride him the second time he shagged me.

I looked at his long, lean, tanned legs and remembered caressing them and being entwined between them as he edged his marvellous cock into me the first time. I saw his body, his bum, his chest and his bulge under his thin shorts and top and thought of being pressed against them, stroking them and almost being part of them as we'd laid naked completely oblivious to whether anyone might turn up in the car park.

I saw all of that, all of him and all of us and I ended up in the ladies loo sobbing.

It was a shock when later I felt someone behind me leaning forward to whisper in my ear.

"I'll pick you up after school on Monday and we can go for a drive for a couple of hours. Ok?" Rick said and without another word walked off with his mates.

Talk about "treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen!"

Well that certainly worked for me. At the break before school was ending on the Monday; there was I in the loo slipping out of my regulation school bra and panties and into a silky, lacy bra and thong. It felt odd sitting in the English lesson wearing that sort of gear under my school uniform, for I'd never done that before.

There was absolutely no way on God's earth I wanted Richard to see me in my school uniform. It screamed out that I was just a kid and not the sophisticated lover he'd had on the back seat of his car a few days before. But what could I do? I had no alternative. It wasn't allowed for pupils, even upper sixth form girls, to change out of school uniform in the school or within half a mile of leaving it. And he'd said he'd meet me just round the corner from the main entrance, so I was literally fucked wasn't I? Still, I reconciled over the weekend, if the price I had to pay for really being fucked was to be seen in my school uniform then it was worth it.

Luckily I still had the, nearly, all over tan I'd got in Florida at half term and that had been topped up on my legs by the recent, unusually warm spring weather. I could, therefore, wear mid height heels without tights and as I was leaving the school I hitched my skirt up a bit to, as far as a girl could be, look sexy in her school uniform.

"Oh my God, babe," he croaked as he kissed me when I got in the car. "You look absolutely fucking ravenous, your every man's wet dream, come here let me kiss you."

I was vaguely aware of some kids walking past the car but I didn't care for I knew they'd tell others.

"We saw Sammi Cannock snogging with a bloke in a BM."

I thought he might take me to his home but no once more it was into the woods. A different forest, a different car park but one that was as equally isolated and away from other cars and people as the first one had been. This time though it was broad daylight.

"No one ever comes here," he told me making me wonder how he knew that, but making me excited by his obvious desire for me.

As I've learned most men do, Rick followed a similar routine with me as last time. Kissing me then caressing my breasts, getting them out and then attacking the epicentre of a woman's sexuality, her pussy. And this time he attacked that energetically, easily breaking down any defences I might have wanted to put in his way. Like for instance a, "should we?" or a pause of a nanosecond or two before opening my thighs or the really strong defence of, "someone might come Rick." I tried them all, but to no avail.

I was defenceless, not just emotionally but physically as well, for as I'd laid back in the corner of the seat so my flimsy skirt had ridden well up my bare legs. So intent was he on kissing me and playing with my tits, that were pulled out of the bra but were still inside the white cotton, unbuttoned blouse and white and red striped prefect's blazer, that he seemed to be ignoring my long, tanned bare legs. Silly me, I forgot the process, the procedure, the sequence that men go through; it wasn't the turn of down below yet was it?

After a respectable and rather wonderful fifteen minutes of breast and nipple manipulation that took me close to a climax, he at last turned his attention elsewhere. He raised his head from where it had been nestling on my chest chewing and licking my breasts and nipples and looked down. It was almost as though he was looking at my legs for the first time. But then last time it had been dark, so I forgave him immediately.

"Oh wow, Sam they're awesome," he murmured taking hold of the hem of the thin, blue, gingham check, skirt that was bisecting my thighs. "Mmmmmm so lovely," he whispered, possessively running his fingers up from beneath my knee to the hem of the skirt.

Then slowly, so very, very slowly, so unusually slowly and patiently for Rick, he lifted the hem. He lifted it up and up revealing more and more of my legs, my thigh, my thong and the outline of my mound beneath it. He just stared at me for what seemed ages. He was breathing quite heavily and his hand that wasn't holding my skirt was round my shoulders gripping me tighter and tighter as he continued staring at me. He was making low, almost animal like moans as his fingers ran up and down each of my thighs. They went right along that particularly smooth area that had I been wearing stockings, not actually that I have any and I never have worn them, would have been the patch on the inside of my thighs between the stocking tops and my panties.

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