My first time, part two

My first big cock: The average erect penis is from 4.7 to 6.3 inches and that's been my experience. It all matters in how you use it, guys. A man with a big cock can be fabulous if he is a skilled lover. On the other hand, I've had some average men who were among my best because of the same abilities.

My first experience with size was mixed at best. A fraternity brother had led me to the basement during a party and we fucked. I was still lying, miniskirt hiked up, there trying to catch my breath when another shape appeared, unzipped his pants and displayed the biggest cock I'd yet seen.

He climbed on and pushed in. Between pussy juice and the cum in me I was thankfully well lubed. It still hurt for several minutes, then felt better, then really good. After he was done, I saw a line of guys waiting their turn, grabbed my clothes and ran out.

My first anal sex: I know you guys have been waiting for this. Lots of men had wanted to take me in the ass but I held off until I was married. I didn't have many "firsts" I could offer my husband, but this was a big one.

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," I said during a lovemaking session. He got out KY and put me on my knees.

First he entered by pussy and fucked me slow and sweet. I felt his finger slide into my anus, syncopating with his cock moving in and out of my pussy. Then two fingers. Finally, he pulled out and rested the head of his penis against my perineum, then slowly entered me. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "No," I said, although it was uncomfortable as he fucked me.

I didn't come from this but it was still thrilling, especially thinking of what my uptight family would think of their little cheerleader honor student getting it up the ass. "You're a very naughty girl, Linda," my husband panted, instinctively understanding. He had a violent orgasm and I felt him shooting in me. He stayed there until he went flaccid and we showered together.

My first public sex: This is a tough one. The summer I lost my virginity, I cheated on my sweet boyfriend with a bad boy from high school on whom I'd had a crush. One night we drove into the country and he fucked me on the hood of his muscle car.

It was wildly erotic to be outside, the breeze running across my legs, my moans and screams out there wafting into the woods. But nobody was there. He said he would never get the dents removed from his hood.

The first "official" time was when I was having an affair with one of my professors — common then, but a fireable offense in our neo-Puritan age.

Believe me, I was not being taken advantage of. Anyway, it was winter and the sun had set early. I went down on him and sucked his cock a long time. Then I sat on his desk and he fucked me. After, I saw that a crowd had gathered at a window of a nearby building and had seen the whole thing. They applauded. I smiled and curtsied. My lover was mortified and always closed the blinds after that.

Learning to juggle

I started masturbating at age thirteen (back off, pervs). It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Even though our family was very repressed -- I swear my parents only had sex three times, resulting in me and my two siblings -- I was fascinated by my body, its urges, the changes I felt coming over me, and the outside world saturated with sex. The bad girls in school fascinated me, even though I was, sadly, a very good girl. But late at night, when the house was quiet and dark, I would lie in bed and explore. When I accidentally found my clit and got my first baby orgasm, I was hooked. One night my mother burst into my room, as was her wont, and found her eldest daughter naked and spread wide, fiery pubic hair and all, hands down in private parts. I could see her blush even in the dark. She closed and door and stomped off, never saying a word.

I'd fantasize about guys and none more so than Steve. He was tall, with wavy dark hair and wine-dark eyes and that indefinable and unlearnable gift called "cool." In a high school of suburban achievers, he was a hood: ran with the wrong crowd, spent lots of time in the city, drank and dealt pot, rode a rice rocket and drove a hot car. And yet he was very funny and clever when he chose to be, much more mature in many ways. I had a monster crush on him even as I spent my senior year in a steady relationship with Mike. Steve was a year older and unapproachable (I didn't have the confidence I would later acquire, or realize the power of even average-looking women). Steve noticed me, especially when I wore my cheerleader outfit. But we barely knew each other. He was also pussynip in the way of certain dangerous guys and never lacked girlfriends. As I moved into cocksucking with Mike, keeping my virginity technically intact, sometimes I imagined I was fellating Steve the bad boy.

I went to Boston for my first year of college while Mike stayed in Seattle, attending school there. We visited each other and that summer I lost my virginity to him. No complaints there; he was the perfect starter boyfriend. Definitely cute and with a future. Other girls envied me. But one night at the supermarket, I ran into Steve. He knew my name. We talked and he asked me out. My panties were getting wet just standing there.

The next night I wore a little black dress and he wore torn jeans. He took me across the floating bridge into Seattle on his motorcycle, my dress flopping wildly and no doubt revealingly, my clit feeling the vibration of the bike, my arms wrapped around his muscular middle. We bar hopped through Pioneer Square, him drinking three beers for every one I sipped. When we ended up at his apartment in an old four-story brick building in an iffy neighborhood (now gentrified), it just seemed a given. He didn't ask my permission as he put his strong hands on my shoulders and guided me into his bedroom. It was little more than a futon on the floor with iffy sheets, but I was dizzy with arousal. We'd been making out in the bars and he was an incredible kisser, a little forbidden cigarette smoke on his breath.

I was soon down on the futon, my panties tossed aside, black dress still on and his dick pushing into my recently virginal pussy. My breath went out with an "oooph" and my pussy walls alternately opened and tightened. God, it felt good. My abstract brain was thinking: Moving very fast here...second lover in two months... The rest of me just wanted to be fucked, which Steve did expertly. He raised himself on his arms and danced his pelvis up and down, swiveling. This was definitely not Mike. I was moaning and having little orgasms when he came with a loud moan and collapsed on top of me, falling asleep. I just ran my hands through that dreamy hair and thought, wow. In an hour, he was ready again and I sucked him off. He recovered in no time and got the dress off, worked over my breasts and nipples and fucked me more.

That's how much of the summer went: juggling Steve and Mike. I felt guilty but always aroused. More than once I slept with one while the other's semen was inside me...I was a sore Susie some weekends. It was impossible not to compare the two, from anatomy to how they loved on me. Steve taught me to fuck with my legs over his shoulders, doggy style. He'd fuck me like I wasn't there, and then like I was the only woman in the world. It was a scary magnetism. Mike was solid and dependable, sweet. But there was the backbeat of expectations: come home and go to college here, visit his parents, get married, have kids. Steve didn't give a shit. He just wanted to fuck. Neither one lasted. I went back to Boston and entered a life that Mike couldn't have handled ("Sorry, Honey, it's classified. How was your day?"). I wasn't going to be Steve's biker chick, either. Last I heard, he was serving ten years for drug dealing. And Mike got married, had kids, got divorced, remarried. But sometimes, when the night is right and I see a couple of kids on a motorcycle, I think of Steve and he still thrills me.

Dresses I've known (and been known in) Part I

My sister Amber got the tits in the family. Men still stare at her chest, making her uncomfortable. I got the legs and ass, learning early that men paid attention. I always favored miniskirts as a result, despite my mother's contention that I dressed like a "harlot." My dresses have so many stories to tell. Here are a few.

My cheerleader outfit. Our high school had traditional sweaters and short-pleated skirts. Nothing as revealing as today, but to my mind more sexy. It was all about legs. On game days I would wear my cheer outfit through the school day to bring the team luck. I also noticed that more than one boy would be staring at me with a tent rising in his pants. One night after a game, I was outside the school when one of my father's friends pulled up and offered me a ride home. I sat into the plush leather of his Mercedes and we drove off. He was a physician and a member of our church, and pretty soon he was expertly running his hand along my thigh. I didn't make him stop. It felt amazing, every nerve in my body shimmering right into my pussy. I could smell my scent and was so wet I worried about his car seat. We pulled over and he pulled me into him and kissed me. It was a deep, full adult kiss, very different from the awkward smooches I had received from my boyfriend. He moved his hand up the inside of my thigh but was foiled by the tight shorts underneath. So all he could do was finger me through the fabric as we made out — I still had a baby orgasm. He unzipped his pants and his erect penis popped out. My mouth wanted it, pure instinct taking over. But I was afraid, so I just stoked it awhile. Then he drove me home. I didn't know how I felt about the whole thing, still being somewhat in thrall of my family's sexual hangups. I was still a virgin. So I felt guilty and avoided him. When he was around my dad, like a lot of dad's friends, he often had those hungry eyes on me.

I never had sex in the cheerleader outfit when I was a cheerleader. But I kept it, and can still fit into it. It's seen me through many a burn-the-paint-off-the-walls role play.


Denim and khaki skirts. I wore these quite a bit in college during the spring and summer. Most were about mid-thigh, a few shorter. I can't count the number of times a boy or man said, "leave it on," as he fucked me. One at a bar whispered that he's love to see that miniskirt crumpled on the floor at the foot of his bed. I didn't go home with him, but I became aroused anyway, corny line and all. As I recall, I had on a khaki mini the night I barely escaped a gang bang at the frat house. Another one was on the night I was drunk out of my mind and was basically raped by a stranger. Not so good. But it didn't stop me from showing leg. Once I was walking down a street and caused a wreck — a man was watching my saucy walk and my legs and rear-ended an SUV.

In college, the boys were very insistent, lacking any real seduction skills or willingness to let things unfold. They loved to dance or stand at the bar, running a hand inside the hem of my skirt, trying to get inside my panties. Sometimes I stopped them. But for the boys I chose to sleep with, the miniskirt — me in the mini — was definitely "the point of entry" in the attraction. They'd hump me in that endearingly demanding way of young men, but almost always asking me to rub my legs against them, or wrap my legs around them. I didn't need any coaxing, because I loved it, too. And at 5'8", I can do a good job of leg wrapping.

I played tennis for awhile, something expected at my expensive school back east. Oh, I loved that white tennis dress. Virgin-whore, whatever. It made me feel sexy. More than one player's game was destroyed by watching me walk by. I was no Steffi Graf on the court, but I could outfuck her in bed, I bet. One boyfriend played with me regularly, and our games invariably ended back at his place with me being fucked in my tennis whites. One time he fucked me on the grass in a secluded (we thought) spot. I never got those grass stains out.

My college fucking yearbook

You seem to like it when I tell the stories of my cocktease/cock-pleaser years in college. It got me thinking about my lovers then. Let's go in chronological order.
--Mike was my first and I was his first. It didn't hurt a bit and there was no blood. We would fuck for hours, in all kinds of positions. Great fun. But things quickly accelerated to pressure from my family to bring him home and put him on the husband track.
--Seth. My first and only frat party. I got wasted. He was flirtatious and cute -- I can still see his butt in my fantasies. I let him take me downstairs. He fucked me missionary and with my legs over his shoulders. I knew I was being "unfaithful" to Mike and, God help me, it was a turn-on. He came in me and pulled out. I was lying there feeling high and warm and...
--Glenn came along. He was my first black lover and my first big cock. I didn't even realize he was there until I felt the mattress sag and this guy was over me, and then this cock was forcing its way into my recently virginal pussy. It hurt at first and was uncomfortable for awhile. He didn't give a shit, and his whole being masterful and strong and athletic as hell were a guilty turn-on. Then it felt really good and I came hard and loud. I got out in time to avoid a gangbang.
--Pam was my first girl. It was sweet and soft and she made me love having my pussy licked. I gave as good as I got. We fooled around for a long time, even as we were seeing other guys.
--My infidelities finally broke up my relationship with Mike. Two days later I was sucking Jon's cock in the library. He was an intellectual and even at that age I found brains a huge turn-on. We remain fuck-buddies to this day.
--Steve was Boston blue-collar Irish, like the guys in "Mystic River." I met him on some do-gooder outreach we were required to undertake. He was very attractive and I started dressing more provocatively. The day I wore a short skirt without panties he took me outside in the cool night and fucked me against a wall. Yes, it was slumming, but he was good in the sack. A very well-hung man, and knew it. Unlike some, he also knew how to use that big cock. He loved to fuck me from behind, and I grew to love it. He wanted to fuck me in the ass but I wouldn't let him. Things fell apart one night when his wife found us fucking and started throwing things.
--David was the professor I seduced. He liked my legs and, he said, my mind. My first older man.
--I had a more stable relationship with Dave. He was a history major and I could tell he was a rising star. We stayed together through my junior year, and although I sucked off a couple of guys and slept with Pam occasionally, I was pretty faithful.
--Luc was my Paris fling the semester I studied overseas. He smoked a lot and even I ended up smoking Gauloises. One time he brought me off on a train going something like 170 miles per hour. We had a blanket over us and he fingered me to orgasm. He loved it that I tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to avoid being loud. Being fucked in Paris is everything you dream.
--Things got crazier when I was juggling Frank, Mike 2 and Craig. Some days I might be carrying around the semen from all three inside my pussy and my stomach. I had gotten better at keeping lovers at enough distance to keep from getting stuck and bored. Frank was rich from the LBO boom and had a sailboat in the harbor and an estranged wife (named Linda) down in New York. He also had the smallest cock I ever fucked, about 4 inches erect -- but it still had its charms. He liked having me on his arm, and taught me many worldly, sophisticated things. The gifts were quite lavish, so some might say this was my equivalent of my pal Mary Beth's coed hooker. But being young, sexy and female has benefits; life is unfair. When Frank found out I was "cheating" on him, he got mad and told Mike 2, a lawyer and buddy. Big drama. They all came back, though. Men ;-) And then it was time to go to graduate school.

Let's play fuck the cheerleader...

I've been accused of being a clothes horse, but no one complains when I like to play dress-up in the bedroom (of the bar restroom, or on the train, or...). I learned early on that the right outfit can be an aphrodisiac. Getting fucked in my little black dress after a night on the town is one benefit of dress-up. But why stop there?

Some men don't get it. I feel sorry for them, the hung-up and unimaginative. But the men who do...they're richly rewarded. I had an affair with an older man last year, very smart and soulful, in a sexually dead marriage. He loved dress-up. Of course there was my fondness for stockings -- thigh highs and attached to garters. I am particular to sheer black, but sheer white has its virgin-slut uses. I love to show off my legs, and stockings just add to the appeal. Also in my arsenal: a black corset. And a black push-up bra.

He loved it when we went deeper. I can still get in my high-school cheerleader uniform. It's nothing like the bare-midriff dance-squad stuff you see now. A comfy sweater with the school logo in the center and "Linda" monogrammed on the left. A delightfully short skirt. Tennis shoes and short socks. Scarlet and navy blue. It made men melt when I was 17, and it still pleases lovers who can appreciate it. My older man and I loved to role-play with me as cheerleader. It was especially sexy to end the romp by being fucked doggy, the short skirt over my ass, my breasts hanging out of the ravished sweater. Men like with playing cheerleader Linda. When they can be good actors and not get too distracted, the arousal just builds and builds.

My older man also loved Schoolgirl Susie. I bought a little plaid parochial schoolgirl skirt. Paired with the right blouse and a randy attitude it made for wonderful fun. The first time I showed it off to him he just had to fuck me. I was already wet and he took me before I could even get my shoes off. My new boyfriend was introduced to Schoolgirl Susie last night, and to my pleasure he liked it -- a lot. He came almost immediately after I paraded around, showed I had on no panties, and dropped to my knees to suck his cock.

Confessions of a teenage cocktease

I was a teenage cocktease. Don't hate me.

Early on, I discovered that men liked to look at me. Fortunately, when I was in high school miniskirts made a comeback, so I didn't have to wear those dreary calf-length skirts from the early 1980s. I like my breasts but they would never satisfy the monomaniac tit-man. But my legs...ahhhh...men love my legs. So I started dressing provocatively, although not, as my Mom said, like a slut. I also learned to flirt early and well.

I loved the attention. It didn't hurt that I was a cheerleader. So on game days, I would wear my outfit to class. The boys would literally twitch. I had a lot of dates, although they never went past heavy petting. Lots of my friends were hooking up and on the pill. But I was afraid and still pretty hung up from my upbringing. I also didn't want to end up pregnant and never get to college.

Older men noticed me. My father's friends paid me inordinate attention, listening to my callow opinions about politics and art and whatever. I realized the sexual flux, even if I didn't quite understand it. I wasn't above using it to get a favor. As I say, don't hate me. I left a lot of balls blue. One night my father took me out to dinner to celebrate my acceptance at a good college. I dressed to the nines in a little black dress, and he looked quite good in a suit. I realized the other diners thought I was his young mistress. What a trip.

I had an incomplete understanding of the connection of my actions and getting fucked, especially when I was in my teens. I got the link between male attention and the wet, warm achey feeling between my legs, the way my nipples would stand at attention. It was fun at a dance to feel the hard cocks pressing against me through the boys' trousers. Oh, making out, when a boy would stroke my inner thigh, I had a hard time putting his hand back to my knee. Later, alone in my bed, I would masturbate like crazy, feeling guilty all the time. I was also incredibly naive.

Once I caused a wreck. True story. I was walking downtown in a miniskirt, and saw this guy driving by oogling me. Then...bam! He smashed into the back of the car ahead of him. "Caution, professional cocktease, closed course!"

I grew up, lost my virginity and then some. I became a clothes horse and moved in sophisticated circles. But I still like to dress classy-sexy. I can still draw eyes at parties and make insecure wives flush with anger. And sometimes I remember times like the summer nights in college when I went without panties in a short skirt and shimmied up on a bar stool to let the men buy me drinks.

Sometimes it evens out. I don't look like I did even 10 years ago. Meanwhile, I know men who couldn't get a date when they were 20 but are now overflowing with desperate and desirable women.

Real life intrudes...but I keep my sexy boots on

Real-life rarely turns out like erotic fiction. Recall my threesome with Mike and Josh. Male readers expected a "DP" scene. Didn't happen. Then my next threesome (oh, Mom would have a heart attack), involving my friend Kathleen and Mike...that would lead to endless fun and possibilities, right? And when Josh joined, we could also rope in his girlfriend. I've never been in an honest-to-god orgy.

And I won't be anytime soon.

My puritanical Mom visited the evil city for Thanksgiving, so my adventures ground to a halt...without even any grinding. Next time I talked to Mike and Kathleen, I could sense a new dynamic. She acted like a schoolgirl...she had been married for 20 years and has a lot of making up to do. Mike was different, too.

Mike came in my office Tuesday and shut the door. We sat on my little leather sofa as he told me that he wanted to be with Kathleen exclusively for now. I had been expecting this. He admitted that his aunt had taken his virginity when he was 15, and since then he had been attracted to older women.

I couldn't resist rubbing his crotch as he talked. "You're going to miss this," I said at one point, feeling him get very hard and his breath come quickly. I had dressed provocatively both Monday and today. Today I had on boots and a skirt and no panty hose (I was cold but it was worth it). I could tell he was very aroused.

At one point, I stood up and walked over to my desk, and he was soon behind me, caressing me, pinching my nipples. I told him no, it was over, and certainly not here. But he roughly pushed my head down on the desk and pulled up my skirt. I heard his zipper as his hand ripped open my panties and pulled aside my pussy lips. Even though I tried to prepare myself, I had the breath nearly knocked out when he impaled me from behind with his eight-inch cock. All the while I was telling him "No" and "Stop!" (But not too loudly )

What followed was a delicious little forbidden goodbye fuck, him calling me a slut and a cunt and Sue, before emptying himself inside me. I probably burst a blood vessel not screaming when I came. Then he pulled out and I heard the door open and close, and he was gone, me still face-down on the desk, smiling.

Meanwhile, Josh called me and said the girl from the other night is his fiance, Lindsey, and she was very upset about the whole scene. He swore to her that he and I hadn't slept together, and told me we couldn't be together again. Are all young people so uptight?

So my adventure ends...for now. I feel ok about it.