Monday, November 28, 2011

Lovers who thrill us

There's no getting around a distinction between the lovers in our lives: The ones who were in a broad category ranging from disastrous to fun, and the ones who really thrilled us. I suppose the only exceptions are those who married their first sweetheart and stayed that way, or had a succession of duds (who's to blame, there?).

Thrilling lovers stay in the memory. They still tingle my pussy. They're threatening to men who want to know about my past, even if the lover I mention was years ago. Men (and women, especially) have a radar for that lilt in your voice when you mention those special ones. They're not even the ones you want to marry; often far from it.

I lost my virginity to my high-school boyfriend, Mike, my first summer home from college back east. He was sweet, gentle and everything a woman could want in her first. But that same summer, while I was in Seattle, I ran across one of the school hoods, Steve. He was a year older, and although his parents had money, he was a bad boy in nearly every way. I let him pick me up at a supermarket and take me to his emphatically messy apartment in one of the city's sleazier neighborhoods.

Not knowing what to expect, I didn't have to worry about virginal fumbling or romance. He barely got the door closed before he roughly took me in his arms and started kissing me, one hand running up and down my legs and up in my blouse. This went on for some time even though I was dripping wet with excitement. He raised me up against the wall, slid my panties aside and pushed his cock inside so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of me. It was night, the lights were on. When I turned my head, I saw a man in a nearby apartment staring at us. This only added to the turn-on. I came almost immediately, his firm hands holding my teenage ass up against the wall.

I didn't think about Mike once.

Steve never sent me flowers, never took me on a real date. He just fucked the daylights out of me, teaching me every kind of position. Even with foreplay, his style was to take me, not seduce me. Somehow with his bad-boy charisma this was not just okay, but a major attraction. He obviously was experienced and could fuck me for an hour before he decided to come. He taught me how to really give a blowjob. We did several public sex acts, including him fucking me on a blanket in a fairly crowded park. Somehow we avoided arrest.

Meanwhile, I was doing "normal" date-y things with Mike and having sex with him, too. More than once, we had sex with Steve's come inside me, and a few times Steve fucked me after I had been with Mike. Neither knew about the other. I was young enough and still enough in my family's orbit that I felt guilty and kept wrestling with breaking things off with Steve and tearfully confessing to Mike. But it never happened. Whenever I saw Steve, I just melted and if he wanted me down on his frayed rug getting fucked from behind with my clothes halfway off, no problem. He loved the way I was noisy, horny and responsive.

Still he definitely had the power in the "relationship." Once he made a passing reference to remembering me as a cheerleader, but otherwise I was not that important to him. This is strange, because I love romance, compliments and romance. But with this hood, he fucked me with such an athletic prowess and the ever-present whiff of danger that I went with it. I'm also sure in retrospect he was juggling me with other women, but I'm confident I was a good lover for him. The power gradually started to shift my way.

It was never going to last. I broke up with him at the end of the summer and went back to college. Mike, too. We were too far apart and I had a world open to me. Last I heard, Mike was settled down in a corporate job with two children and Steve was in prison. Neither outcome surprises me. But even thinking about my hood still thrills me. I'd be interested in your experiences in this regard.

8 comments:

WeekBiWeek said...

I certainly don't have a wild story like that, but I do have a former partner who, like you described, was amazing in the sack while also no candidate for a lifelong bond.

He was imaginative and creative, balancing passion and consideration. He introduced me to light restraint bondage, food play, anal play, outdoor sex, and sex toys. Had we known a good candidate, then we probably would have had a threesome, whether MFM or FMF. He was incredible as a sex partner.

Unfortunately, he was also a real man-child. He had a thing for married or otherwise unavailable women. Though he was 11 years my senior, I often felt like the more mature one between the two of us. We eventually drifted apart, though his interest in me renewed when we both became unavailable. I kept having to fend off his advances, despite being in a LTR and he being married.

Not surprisingly, his marriage ended not long after it started, and he is still single now. While he is not a good candidate for a stable relationship, I still smile when I look back on our sexual experiences and all that he taught me.

Anonymous said...

My wife describes a very similar scenario when she was young. Even now, decades later, you can just tell from her voice that this guy rocked her straight-laced little world. I think I've been that to some of my lovers, so this doesn't make me jealous so much as horny, imagining her and him going at it.

Anonymous said...

Welcome back.

ingbur said...

welcome back linda sue,

i am not surprised to read this account of your summer with the bad guy. having been the bad guy in some aspects of my life i know the powerful attraction that can be. i missed my second year of high school because i was away in a place for bad guys. when i returned i was shunned by most of my former class mates.

several years later i ran into one of the cool chicks and we struck up a short thing with one another. she told me how others had warned her about me when i got back, and stated that she was afraid of me and never talked to me even though she found me somehow attractive to her.

now that we were a little older i had motorcycle and a long ponytail. she was a nurse addicted to amphetamines with a divorce and a baby. on nights she brought men home she would stick a small piece of a nembutal suppository up her kid's ass so her crying would not interrupt the fucking. and i was the bad guy?

i took great pleasure in using her for several weeks and then leaving her behind. it was probably the most cruel i have ever been to another human being, but goddamn, i have always had great pity for her poor little child who did nothing to deserve such a shitty mother.

last time i heard this paragon of virtue was still addicted to speed and still bouncing from one bad guy to another.

BadGrrlJennifer said...

You would thrill me!

Anonymous said...

I remember this from when you first posted it quite a while ago. Glad to see that you still have your readers in mind. I check every so often, waiting for you to return.

thank you.

Anonymous said...

Great to have you back I've been checking every couple weeks for your return glad your back

Anonymous said...

First Time
I first discovered how men react to my body at home. Innocently enough I used to run around the house naked or almost quite a bit. My stepfather was constantly admonishing my behavior which puzzled me at first. Mom finally had to tell me about the effect I was having on dad. That's when I started to check for the signals mom told me about. We had a pool and my bikinis left little to the imagination. I got eyefuls of bulges tents and squirming which only increased the vicious circle. I began to stalk dad for glimpses of his area... and chances to show him what I had. I saw his erection many times and he "caught" me shaving my landing strip showering dressing peeing even jackingoff over and over. I caught mom on top of dad abunch of times... He saw me and made sure I got a good look at his balls swinging and sloppy penetration. He even pulled out and came all over everything which was very inspiring for me. That's when I became so perfectly aware... Now I make sure my boyfriends stop short of spraying their messy mess.