July, 2007
Head
Melinda was from Hungary. She was two years older than I. She was the first woman I fell in love with. She was the reason I would later live in Hungary for five months and the reason I would learn that I was capable of loving somebody. When I met her at the summer camp where we worked, she was a shy blonde girl in glasses, with a thick accent. She smoked. She read books and was knowledgeable but she was also unpretentious and, again, soft-spoken.
(It has unfortunately come to sound like an MRA-style viewpoint, but I do believe it’s true, not literally, but in the general sense: one cannot find American women with this personality and affect. One does not meet an American woman who is shy and indulges in unhealthy vices and reads and has intellectual fortitude and is not self-conscious or affected in terms of who she associates with. There is something about our culture that by and large prevents this from being so. I am 100% confident that there are other well-meaning men who know exactly what I mean. I am sure something similar can be observed of American men vs. European men. In any case, this combination of qualities struck me as individualistic and exotic, and was one of the reasons I was attracted to her).
What attracted her to me? I was smart. I was different. I was driven. I was genuinely interested in her culture.
And what led her to buck her thighs around my head?
Well, first we started hanging out. Then we kissed. Then we started going to each other’s respective housing lodges regularly. Then we had sex, awkwardly. A few days after that, I ate her pussy, which she had not allowed me to do a week or two before. Even in those lamb-days my tongue craved the vagina of whoever I was with.
This was awkward, too. I didn’t have as good a grasp on where to move my tongue and how. The fact that I was so passionate about it is what compensated for that deficiency. I had been working her with my fingers and I kept working her. Finger-fucking her lower labia; tongue fucking every other area. That’s how I had figured to do it.
Melinda was so afraid of making any noise. She thought it impolite. She sighed and pressed her hand on my head. She was wet and my mouth dripped saliva and I sucked on my two labia-fingers and lubed her up some more as I dove back in. She inhaled sharply. Exhaled slowly. She rubbed my head some more. It was dark in her room and my eyes were shut most of the time. When I felt her thigh brush my ear I opened them. Her other leg was gyrating around, too. It steered against my forehead. I licked her until I couldn’t do any more.
And later that day, as we stood in the smoking area and smoked, she looked at me and stifled a laugh. She blushed. I asked her what it was. She said I had stuff on my face.
I went and checked in the mirror in the nearest bathroom. A crusty white streak across my cheek. It ended in a jagged curl at my mouth. I considered parading myself around camp, walking up to the many bros who worked there and being like, “look how much more pussy than you I’m getting.”
But I didn’t. I washed my face. I went back to work.
February 2008
Head
-Melinda’s thighs cave in on both sides of my face. Simultaneously, she jerks backward. The slick shiny wetness of her vagina, the result of a half hour of tongue and fingers, is visible for just a moment, but then it’s just the skin of her thighs. As I raise my head up from her thighs, I can feel her doing it for me; the wetness being rubbed off my face.
We’re in Hungary by now. American no longer. I’m 21 now (legal age to drink in the country I’m not in, three years above legal age to eat pussy). Melinda just turned 23. Her face is red. She lies there, breathing; I look up at her. I move up until we’re face to face and we kiss.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/54l8qi/thighs_when_i_was_twenty
This is art.