Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 06bysammican1©
Okay, back to the correct numbering of the parts now. Has there really been six? I wonder how many of you, if any, have read all of them? Why not let me know if you have, or haven't come to that. By the way thanks to all of you who've taken the time to reply with, mostly thank goodness, nice mails and compliments. Please, though do let me know of anything you don't like or find hard to understand.
If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action
You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit?
A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it.
How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.
The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.
A New Start
The man and the woman were kneeling on the mat facing each other. The personal trainer was wearing a singlet and blue track trousers which had been pushed down round his knees. He was hugely erect. The woman was holding his erection between her hands staring at it with an almost reverential look on her face. The straps of her leotard had been pushed down so that her breasts were completely bare. Her nipples were fiercely hard I noticed, as I watched the personal trainer's hands squeezing and kneading her full breasts.
I watched closely as the woman's face contorted with the pleasure she was receiving. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed, she was moving her head slowly from side to side. I was transfixed standing in the doorway looking at the hugely erotic scene unfolding before me.
Maybe the woman sensed something, or I may have made a noise, possibly a little gasp of excitement, but suddenly she turned and stared directly at me.
I met my mother's eyes across the room and without a word I quietly closed the door.
I'd arrived home unannounced from Bristol where I was at university studying English. I hated it and had desperately wanted to leave for some time. I'd told mum and dad a few months ago how unhappy I was and that I wanted to chuck it in, but they wouldn't let me and reluctantly I'd started the second year. But that had got too much so one Thursday I just packed my bags, left and came home and that's how I found my mum just about to fuck her personal trainer.
I'd lasted through the Christmas term largely due to the drama club and my involvement in the script-writing, adaptation and staging of the Joe Orton play, "What the Butler Saw." David Deekins, or DD as I thought of him, a lecturer who gave time to the students' drama club, was the director of the play and had become my older, married lover during its production. Stephanie, who was studying economics and had played the lead, the doctor's wife and a nymphomaniac, in the play, had become my lesbian, well more lipstick lesbian, lover during the same period. That play had a lot to answer for didn't it? Neither David nor Steph had known of my relationship with the other until the last night of the play; but more of that later.
I'd suspected for some time that my mum, who was not yet forty at the time, was not totally faithful to my dad who was some ten years her senior. I had no proof, but a woman can tell the way another female, even if she is your mum, looks at other men can't she? And several times I'd thought that a tennis or golf coach, a man that did work in the house and even a pool attendant on holiday got the sort of look from her that said more than just thank you! That made me at times hate her almost as much as I loved my dad.
For all my life I'd been very much a daddy's girl. I'd always been able to twist him round my little finger and he was so indulgent and generous to me that it made some people really think I was a spoiled bitch, which, actually, I guess I am in many ways. I'd been so surprised when he'd refused to let me leave uni last term, for I was used to getting my own way with him and I was dreading telling him that I'd left. I didn't like to hurt him and really I wanted him to be proud of me. But somehow, I never quite seemed to have the moral fibre to do that. I didn't stick at things, I didn't push myself to excel and I didn't strive for excellence and achievement the way he did. Why not when I so wanted to please him? Who knows?
As a lot of people, rather uncouthly I've always thought, say I was absolutely "gobsmacked" at dad's reaction. Sure he ranted, of course he swore at me and told me how stupid I was and naturally, being a money-obsessed property developer, he threatened to cut off my allowance and almost my inheritance, but he didn't say no. He didn't, as I'd feared he might, totally and utterly reject what I had to say. No, amazingly, he took it quite well and basically said that it was my life, well what he actually said was, "It's your bloody bed you lie in it."
As he said that I met my mother's eyes across the room and we both smiled.
But I get ahead of myself. I leave some business unattended to, some events not explained, some activities not fully described. I haven't covered all the important, character forming and life-style shaping things that happened to me during my last few months at university. I haven't, for instance' told you about me giving DD a blow job have I? And what can be more important, character forming and life style shaping than deciding whether to spit or swallow?
"Oh God Sam, that's fabulous," David moaned as my tongue ran the length of his erection. "Mmmmm, so good, it's so, so good," he continued as for the first time I performed oral love on a man.
Due to the odd sexual predilections of dirty Dicky, my first longer term lover, well six weeks is a fairly long time at eighteen, I'd been a late starter at really getting down to it. So it wasn't until I'd been at uni a year or so that a mouth found its way between my legs and my tongue slid between a pair of opened thighs.
My starter, though late, for I was approaching my nineteenth birthday, was in many ways incredible. Not only did I that afternoon in a hotel bedroom find the joys and pleasures of oral sex but also I found the joys and pleasures of having and doing it with a woman. Yes, my initiation into making love with tongues, teeth, lips and mouth was with a woman, my lipstick lesbian lover Stephanie Gordon, an economics student and fellow member of the university drama club.
It had been a good month. I'd seduced a lecturer, David Deekins who helped the students run the drama club, I'd established a pattern of afternoon or early evening sex with him and I'd found the pleasures of sex with my own gender. Not bad for a four week period in winter!
David had been fucking me for a couple of weeks. Afternoon fucks mainly as we discussed the script for the play. It was really the only time we could both make it. He had lectures most mornings and tutorials most evenings, so it was mainly mid afternoons when we could fit each other in, or as I quipped one day, fit into each other! But that didn't bother me for I've always felt that afternoon sex is so much dirtier than at any other time, know what I mean?
Don't get me wrong it wasn't every afternoon. He had to do some work and I did have other demands on my time, mainly Steph actually, when I come to think about it! And of course as he was a lecturer, a married one at that, discretion was paramount, so I couldn't and didn't tell a soul, even Steph that he and I were a number and, of course, I couldn't just keep vanishing from my mates without some explanations could I? So my fling with David had to be kept under wraps.
Neither of us was under any illusions about where our "affair" was going; absolutely nowhere was the answer, we both knew that. He had a wife who worked and live in London. One of them would visit the other each weekend and often he'd go up for a night most weeks; it was only ninety minutes by train. His marriage was as important to him as his job and I knew, accepted and totally understood that I shouldn't sod up either. After all an affair with a man twenty years your senior is one thing, much else is just not on. I mean its fine twenty to forty isn't, but forty to sixty is a whole new ball game. So I was completely in tune with his requirements and was totally prepared to be what he needed. A fuckmate. And in the end that's what I wanted as well. A no strings older guy who in exchange for my relatively fresh youthfulness and, so I'm told, tight pussy, would teach me all I needed to know about sex. Seems fair to me even now!
I guess it was our third or fourth time. We'd gravitated from his sitting room and kitchen to the bedroom of his small bachelor pad in the old part of Bristol where I was hating university and studying English. He'd undressed me and we'd had sex. It had been quite quick and vigorous for we hadn't yet got used to each enough to be patient. As I went to the bathroom after having had a very nice climax I saw that I'd only left my flat forty minutes ago and it was at least a fifteen minute walk to his place. Talk about using time fucking efficiently!
I cuddled up to him on the bed after a quick shower. He was, as always, very tender, loving and considerate and we kissed and cuddled in almost a non-sexual way for some time. We had a cup of tea, as alcohol in the afternoons represented dangers for both of us, with some Lincoln cream biscuits and then he laid me back on the bed and licked my cunt until he made me cum twice.
So you see I was primed, I was ready and, I suppose, I felt obligated to return the favour. No that's not really true it wasn't an obligation I felt. Sure I wanted to please him, give him pleasure and be as intimate with him as he'd been with me. But it was more than that. It was almost like sexually consummating a relationship, well I thought so even though I hadn't consummated that many relationships. It's the next logical expression of sexual interest and commitment isn't it? We'd kissed and then fondled each other, undressed and touched each other sexually and then we'd had sex. Diversions from straight sex as like in differing positions, where it was done, adding danger with the chance of getting caught and now oral sex were logical extensions of a sexual affair weren't they?
We were both naked. I was lying with my head on his chest, his arm was round my shoulders, my hand was resting on his body just above his waist and my bent knee was resting on his leg. I hardly had to think about it, surprisingly, for I had worried at night sometimes when my sexual imaginations was running riot and my hands were following that as I imagined me giving head to a man. What would it feel like, what would it taste like, how far would I be able to get in, what the hell did I actually have to do and for how long, all troubled me? But then they would wouldn't they. There are no manuals on teaching one how to suck your lover's cock and you certainly can't go to evening classes to learn. No it's a classic case of on the job learning I suppose.
And that's exactly what I did.
I didn't tell him that it was my first time, after all I didn't want either, to show him how inexperienced was or, to scare him by making wonder whether I might bite him it too hard.
Without hardly thinking I let my hand drift further downwards until it got to that line where the pubic hairs thicken. I pushed my fingers into the tighter curls and felt them touch the very hilt of his penis. I was, naively I suppose, quite thrilled to find that it was lying sideways across his left groin. It was in that not hard, but certainly not totally disinterested state. The condition where if circumstances so dictate it could happily go off to sleep, but, if required, it could be called upon to do its duty; men's cocks are such wonderfully versatile things aren't they?
I ran my fingers along its temporarily shortened length taking his foreskin with them on the return journey. David was the first man I'd been with who hadn't been circumcised. Remember there'd only been Kelvin, my virginity taker, Richard, the dirty, cheating sod that got off by shagging me in my school uniform, the nonentity in my first year and now DD, who'd shagged me, plus a few where we'd hadn't gone that far but where I'd held their cocks, perhaps two, maybe three. So to find a dick that had a sort of hood on it that could be pulled back and forth was strangely exciting. The problem was I didn't know when it should be back or when it should be mostly covering the bulbous, fiercely purple knob head; I'll play that by ear I thought!
As interesting and strangely exciting as it was to move that foreskin back and forth feeling him hardening and thickening as I touched and held it was even more so.
"Mmmmmm, nice, that's lovely," he was sighing as his hands stroked and gently pulled on my long, (real) blonde hair.
I stroked and rubbed his genitals making sure to give a lot of attention to his scrotum as instructed by www.havinggreatsex.com a site that one of the girls studying social sciences introduced us all to. It was basically an advice service for younger women with a very active "sideline" in selling us naughty undies and porn films for girls.
I felt it growing and growing in my hands and that, together with the lovely low moans, sighs and grunts he was making made me feel fabulous. Is it the power, the pleasure you're giving, the anticipation of what's to follow or the sensations you're feeling that does that, I wonder?
I may have wondered but didn't really care for my mind was now focused on just one thought, one realisation, and one objective.
"I'm going to suck a man's cock," kept going through my mind.
At last, at long, long last I was going to do it, going to give a man oral sex just as I'd given it to Steph in that hotel room; was that really just a week or so ago? Yes I felt that I was almost finishing my apprenticeship as a lover, was growing up as a woman and was about to cross such an important bridge in my sex career
My face was so close to the now full erection. I'd never been that close to one. I was so close I could see the veins, the way the foreskin was stretched by the size of the purplish coloured glans and the slight wetness on that. I was holding it so it was nearly at ninety degrees to his stomach and the top of it was above my face. I moved a little so that I could get my mouth to it and then in one foul swoop my tongue was running along its entire length. I licked his shaft from the very base, where it went into his scrotum, right up to the swollen tip sticking out from, what looked to be an impossibly, stretched foreskin. I did that several times. Each time I loved the way his body seemed to buck a little bit, his erection throbbed and such wonderful tremors of excitement went through my entire body. But, childishly, I felt I needed even more confirmation.
"Is that ok David?"
"Oh God yes, it's great," he moaned tugging on my hair, "just carry on please Sam, please."
But now I went the whole hog, the full monty. I wiggled my body a bit so I was laying on one side my face just touching his tummy, his erection just inches from my mouth. I was holding his shaft in one of my hands, revelling in the pulsating warmth that was filling my palm, and I was cradling his balls in the other. It all seemed to come so naturally and easily to me and I was beginning to relax; I felt so grown up and mature because of what I was doing.
I moved even closer to it. It was just an inch or so away, I opened my mouth and I tucked my tongue down a bit. I edged forward and watched fascinated as the bulbous head slid between my lips; I could hardly believe that at last I was having oral sex with a man. I wrapped my lips round it and then with a slithering movement I took David's cock as far into my mouth as I could. I held it in my throat for a moment or two and then slid my mouth up again so that it almost came out.
My womanly instincts seemed to be guiding me, for intuitively I felt I knew what to do. Well it 'aint rocket science is it, sucking yer fella's dick? It doesn't take a genius to work out the key elements of the process as he effectively fucks yer face does it. A girl doesn't need a high intellect to work out that her mouth was, in effect, turning into a surrogate cunt, does she?
I moved my mouth up and down, licking sucking and slurping as I revelled in the feelings in my mouth. I adored the near convulsions in his body, his moans, grunts and sighs and the way his hand tugged at my hair and frantically, almost, roamed over my body seeking my breasts, my nipples, my thighs, my buttocks and my pussy and clit.
Everything was seeming to merge together, yet at the same time there only appeared to be two things in our world, my mouth and his cock. It was as if all else had ceased to exist and there was now just one single purpose in life, me sucking David until I made him cum.
Hearing the noises he was making, feeling the increased pressure from his hands and noting the additional straining of his hardened flesh in my mouth I knew we were near, very near.
I took it right out and holding it near its tip I rubbed it just as if I was giving him a hand job. I licked all round the knob end and the slit in that making it wet with my spittle, but noting that there already was a dampness on it.
"Oh Sam, Sam, yes, yes I'm cumming, I'm so near," he croaked.
I sucked and licked it, loving the very evident tremors as his male equipment prepared itself to perform the tasks for which it was designed. I wasn't thinking or planning. I had no idea what I was doing, my mind was so befuddled by sex generally and sucking David's cock in particular that I hadn't though of where he was going to cum and whether I would swallow or not.
But that decision was taken away from me. As I slid my mouth up his hard length his body bucked and, whether purposefully or not I don't know, his cock slipped out of my mouth just as he started to cum. A jet of sperm shot from the end of it and splattered on my cheek. I could have moved before the second stream shot out but something stopped me and that also landed on my face.
"Oh Sam, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he groaned trying to pull away.
I looked up at him knowing he'd see all the spunk on my cheeks and chin and lips.
"Don't be, it's ok," I whispered, meaningfully letting my right breast find the tip of his semen smeared cock. I rubbed that all over my tit and pressed it firmly against my hardened nipple.
I felt that now having found my lesbian lover and my older lover and having had oral sex both ways with each of them I'd learned all that university could teach me.
I could now leave with no regrets whatsoever.