My [F]irst Experience, Part Two

I enjoyed telling the story of [the first time anyone touched my bare breast](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/643txs/my_first_experience/) and, despite the almost complete lack of wildness, many other seemed to enjoy it as well. Let’s try another reminiscence – it’s called “Remembrance of Sticky Fumblings Past”, making it a combined Michel Proust/Hannibal Lecter reference. Can’t be too many of those out there! This has a proper narrative structure: exposition, rising action, climax and resolution!

Gordon (the first one to fondle me, in my final year of high school, if you didn’t read part one), became my boyfriend and we had lots of firsts. To manage expectations early, that never included what is usually thought of as one’s “first time”: I was still a virgin when he and I broke up: only *just*, but I was! Now, the dictionary defines “virginal” as “pure, unsullied, untouched”, and he saw to it that I wasn’t *that*, but technically I remained a virgin. (The dictionary also defines “virginal” as “a small harpsichord”: I wasn’t that either.)

That threshold between virginal and virgin still existed because of me: I was the reticent one. Truth be told, I did not leap entirely into *everything* about sex wholeheartedly. I liked kissing, I was glad to have his hands on my breasts, undoing my buttons, reaching under my clothing to fondle me, and I can still, if I stop, picture his face the first time, there in his house, that I pulled back a bit on the couch from him, slipped out of my blouse he had already unbuttoned, and reached behind my back to start undoing my bra. I doubt he’d seen other girls topless “live” before (if he had I didn’t know about it – though of course he might have had a glimpse of my nipples in the course of fondling them), and he had a huge smile as I pulled the straps down over my arms, dropping the bra in front of me. I thought – much later, as in years of sophistication later (to the extent that I claim *any* sophistication in sexual matters now!) – that I ought to have drawn it ought more, held my hands in front of me for a moment, made more of a show of exposing myself just for him (and this is, by the way, the “exposition” promised!). But I didn’t, and truth be told my breasts didn’t stay uncovered for long, since in only a moment his hands were back on them! Not just his hands: I also fondly remember that late afternoon as the first time he, or any one, kissed my breasts or wrapped their lips around my nipples to suck on them (mmmmm), which is one of my favourite memories!

I don’t seem to be doing a terribly good job of making it sound that I was reluctant, do I? And this next part won’t make that sound any more plausible. I remember it very clearly – standing in the kitchen of my parent’s house, he was leaning against the counter, I was facing him, close to him, looking toward the window, we were kissing occasionally, and then without warning he reached down and put his hand, on top of my jeans, firmly between my legs and just strrrrroked downward! It started with his fingers and he ran his hand slowly, pressing hard, all the way down to the ball of his thumb and back up again. I can’t describe exactly the noise I made – a purr? a moan? a soft cry? – but it left absolutely no room for doubt that this was incredibly pleasurable! Honestly I’m not 100% sure he knew *why* it felt so good for me, but I certainly did! I leaned in and kissed him harder, as he kept rubbing up and down between my legs that way.

Him rubbing me that way became something we expanded our repertoire to include, but I was reluctant to let him go further and reach inside my jeans, though he often wanted to. We didn’t argue or anything, but pretty much every day he’d try to reach inside or to undo my jeans again, and every day I’d take his hand away again, and that was it till next time. Eventually I relented a little, and so one time, as we were standing up and kissing, I let him slide his hand into the back of my jeans to fondle my bottom.

Somehow we seemed to have, or at least I seemed to have, an unspoken rule: if it had happened once then it was “on the table”, as it were. That meant my bare buttocks were now available for fondling! I didn’t *mind*, I guess, but it wasn’t thrilling for me the way it was to have him play with my breasts, and it didn’t have the physical pleasure of him rubbing between my legs. But, you know, when you have a boyfriend, you want him to be happy, and so there are things you do because he likes them, and this was one of those things. Still, even if he had, strictly, gotten “into” my pants in this way, I would not let him get those pants “off” me! (I’ve always liked that line from the song in *Hairspray*: Round three’s when we kiss inside his car/Won’t go all the way but I’ll go pretty far”!)

Another of those things I did, eventually, because he wanted it, was touching him, which again only happened because of much prodding on his part. I could see him getting hard sometimes, and when I say “prodding” I don’t just mean that he often asked me to: I’m including “pressing his hardness into me as we embraced”, so I was well aware of the state he often got into! And sometimes, as we were making out, he would take my hand and lead it over, resting it on top of his pants, touching the stiffness below. I’d take my hand away, he wouldn’t complain, we’d keep kissing or whatever, but I would, later, fret about whether I ought to do that for him or not. He was my boyfriend, after all, and I wanted to be a good girlfriend, and maybe I should do some things even if maybe I kind of felt I shouldn’t? It was a bit of an internal struggle for me, honestly.

In the end, although I can’t say exactly how many times I took my hand away, I can say that it is at least one less than the number of times he put my hand there. Eventually I let my hand stay there, and even began to rub him through his pants, stroking up and down. And so now *that* was in our repertoire!

Well, of course, Gordon was always the one pushing our boundaries, whether it was the things I was entirely happy with or the ones where it took a bit of persuasion: just as well, really, or we’d never have started going out at all! In any event, although I wouldn’t let him undo my jeans, that didn’t stop him from undoing his own. Possibly to his surprise, I was sort of ok with that? I didn’t mind reaching inside his zipper and stroking him, since his underwear was still between me and his bare flesh. He’d even undo his pants and open them, and I would rub his hard shaft with just that thin layer of cotton in between. For me it was still pretty much the same, because I had not crossed the line into *actually* touching his cock: just the material on top of it.

One time we were on the couch, kissing and fondling, when he undid his pants and then slid his underwear down below his penis (ok, it is absurd for me say “penis” right now, isn’t it?) Below his cock. Let’s be graphic, his hard cock! I can’t reproduce our exact conversation, but basically I asked him what he was doing, and he said “But you did it after the dance!” Well, we *had* been at a school dance, and we *had* parked behind the school for a while afterward, and I *had* reached inside his zipper to rub his cock for a little while, and I thought I was rubbing him above his underwear but – maybe? I was sure he wasn’t lying. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but, I guess, I might have reached inside his underwear?

And so, there we were. It had happened, so, it could happen. Nothing I could do about it!

I mean, obviously I still could have said no, it’s not like I didn’t know that, but, well, I was also kind of warming up a bit more to this sex thing! And so I began – not just that day, but regularly – stroking his cock, rubbing my hand up and down it, even holding it sometimes as I did so.

I think that has satisfied the “rising action” part of this narrative: time to move on to the climax!

SO! One time we were lying on his bed, my top was off, he was sucking my nipples, his cock was out and I was rubbing it, and things were pretty exciting! Gordon was lying flat and I was beside him, and after a while I stopped rubbing his cock, because basically that’s what we did, we’d touch each other in enjoyable ways for a while, then eventually stop. But as I took my hand away he said in an urgent tone “just a bit more!” I didn’t really stop to think exactly why he’d said that, but I didn’t mind, and so I put my hand on his cock and started rubbing up and down again quickly, and a few moments later – FWOOOOSSSHHH!!!

He came *so hard* that it shot the length of his body, past his head, and hit the headboard of his bed behind him!! I thought that was absolutely wonderful!! I cried out in delight, I don’t remember what I said, but honestly this was just the best thing that had ever happened!! I knew in principle that guys ejaculated, I knew what that meant, even only-slightly-sullied me knew that he probably masturbated – but WOW!!!! Ok, obviously Gordon enjoyed it too, but it’s truly possible I was even more excited about it than he was!

And so, finally for our story, resolution.

First off, Gordon got a LOT of handjobs!

Second, although we tried cleaning it up with tissues, there was always a slight stain on his headboard after that, that you could see if you were looking for it!

Finally, it changed how we fooled around. Until then it had been, for me at least, pleasurable in the way that, say, eating chocolate is pleasurable: you do it for a while, you enjoy it, and after a while you stop. Recognising how things *could* end made everything more goal-directed. Things weren’t just nice on their own anymore: they were nice on their *way* to something.

At first, I’ll admit, that something was just seeing to it that Gordon came, but things, as they do, didn’t stay that way forever. And so perhaps this tale is not completely resolved: for the moment, though, it is done.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/65kugl/my_first_experience_part_two