Branching out [FM]

[A week earlier](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9bfwc6/a_few_of_my_firsts_fm/), I wouldn’t have believed it, but my graduation from high school [was not the high point of that week](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9bg524/my_first_time_fm/). Though losing my virginity hadn’t changed things the way I had thought (I had not suddenly blossomed into a gloriously sexual woman, desired by all who laid eyes on me), things had changed. While I may have been no more desirable to the jocks and preps at school, they were more desirable to me. No, it didn’t take long for me to go from one dick to wanting all of them. Maybe it’s the natural collector in me, but the very next day, I looked at every guy I passed in an entirely different way. Before, an attractive guy was someone who might be fun. The day after, they were there to be rode hard and put away wet. In short, I felt like a sexual beast, with only my concern for what rumors would be passed around about my overnight transformation holding me back from jumping the nearest football player and dragging him into the nearest bathroom. It may not sound like much, but even in the last days of high school, even to a hopeless nerd with no discernable reputation, good, bad, or otherwise, rumors meant the world. So I behaved myself.

Joe did his part to keep me at bay. Every day after marching practice (yes, my school held an entire week of practice to teach us how to walk to our seats for graduation), Joe and I would retreat back to one of our houses to experiment with this brand new hobby we’d discovered. I was far more eager than him to explore, relishing every new position I could try, from missionary to doggy to cowgirl, while Joe just seemed interested in lasting longer. He was making headway in that department, but even I, inexperienced as I was, could tell that his technique was lacking. He was perfectly happy to thrust as hard and fast as he could until he spewed, which wasn’t miserable, but it wasn’t getting me any closer to where I needed to go. I hated to admit it, but just a week after losing my virinity, I was already getting tired of my first partner. I was all too ready to move on to bigger and better things.

So when, a week after graduation, Joe came to me like a kicked puppy and told me that his family was taking one last vacation together before he headed off to college, it was all I could do to pretend I was disappointed, too. We spent our last days together doing what we always did. I would pick the position, and he would fuck me as hard and fast as he could, then he’d drink Gatorades until he was ready to go again. Had he been any bigger, I might have taken the full week he was gone to recover. Again, I enjoyed our time together, but I had come to crave variety, not just in size and shape, but technique. When he and his family finally shipped out, I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated myself for it. He was, after all, one of my best friends, but he was also taking up every waking moment that I wasn’t obligated to be with my family. So he was gone, and I was free to do, or do not, who and when I pleased. There was just one problem. I was an eighteen year old without a car or any real social connections. In short, I had no way to hook up with anyone, unless I was looking to get railed by any of my neighbors, most of whom were several times my own age, and the rest of whom were married. It took the entire day and on into the night, my first night since losing my virginity that I wasn’t getting laid, before I realized the painfully simple answer. Joe was not my only friend. We had two other guys in our social circle, Alan and Chris, and both had working vehicles, and, I assumed, working dicks. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour, trying to decide if I was ready to fuck another friend. I had hoped my next hookup would be more…foreign. An unknown. Alan and Chris were anything but. Still, college was only a couple months away, and since I was moving several states away, there would be ample opportunity for a stranger or two. So, yeah, I could fuck a couple friends to prepare for college life. The idea of it made me feel dirty, even. Like sleeping with three different guys would make me the biggest slut our small town had ever seen.

The next day, I flipped a coin. Heads, Alan, tails, Chris. Alan won. I punched the familiar number into my phone as soon as I heard my mother pull out of the driveway. Alan picked up after several rings, clearly half asleep. He woke up quickly when he recognized my voice, though, and agreed to come over as soon as he could get ready. He seemed a little too eager, considering random calls to meet up during the summer weren’t unusual at all, but I didn’t think much of it. Part of me hoped he knew exactly why I was inviting him over. After hanging up the phone, I looked through my closet and realized that, due to my complete lack of a sexual side through high school, I didn’t have anything that could be remotely considered seductive. I made a note of trying to fix this before college started, but for now, I would have to make due with what I had. I knew I couldn’t LOOK sexy, so I settled for FEELING sexy instead. I put on the same baggy hoodie that I wore that fateful night at the softball field with nothing underneath: no tanktop, no bra, nothing. Feeling my nipples brush against the inside of the fabric was an instant turn on. Beyond that, I picked out a knee length skirt that I rarely wore and decided to skip the panties, too. Between the baggy top and the loose skirt, I almost felt like I was walking downstairs completely naked. It was an exciting feeling, though I was brought back down to earth when I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. Sure, I FELT sexy, but a baggy sweater and a skirt usually reserved for church outings made for a decidedly frumpy look. I was about to go upstairs and start from square one when there was a knock on the door. I answered (still feeling quite naked, a sensation that had me positively dripping and forgetting all frumpiness), and there stood Alan. He was taller than Joe by several inches and lanky, a lot of stringy muscle on a frame that couldn’t gain an ounce of fat if he tried. He had long, greasy hair and a consistantly crazy look in his eye. Anyone who has ever spent time with the geek crowd knows there’s always one who is ready to fight the world at a moment’s notice. That was Alan. He was wearing a well worn Metallica t-shirt and basketball shorts, and an odd look in his eye. We stood in the open doorway for several moments, just staring at each other, silently probing. He knew why he was here, or at least he strongly suspected, and was silently asking for confirmation. I had never even tried to give “fuck me” eyes to a guy, but I did my best that day. I must have done well enough, because Alan stepped inside and closed the door, pressing against me in the process. He gently caressed my cheek with his long, skinny fingers, almost like a last chance to change my mind. I closed my eyes at his gentle touch and moaned. With no further preamble, and absolutely no actual words spoken between us, he grabbed a handful of my hair roughly and kissed me hard, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

My hand went directly between his legs, eager to find what I was working with. It took a moment to process exactly what I was feeling. He was already fully hard, and well larger than Joe in every way. He had at least two inches on his length, thickness like you wouldn’t believe (one of those heavenly pieces of equipment that is more girthy further up the shaft, rather than being a uniform pillar.) He groaned at my touch and released my hair (fine by me, I’m not big on pain, but wherever the mood takes either of us…) and grabbed my hand, pulling me roughly up the stairs and into my room. He unceremoneously threw me facedown on the bed with my legs hanging of, so I was doubled over. He yanked my skirt up, bunching it around my waist like a belt and cracked me on the ass with his open palm, seemingly unphased by my lack of underwear. Before I had a chance to fully react to the spanking, Alan had hit his knees and buried his face in my pussy.

I had seen pussy eating in porn plenty of times before, and I had been eager to try it, though Joe was less interested. No words can describe that feeling when a skilled man goes about his work down there. It was like a bomb exploded in my brain. It was sensory overload. It was like the world was lagging on me, by the time I processed one sensation, five more had passed, then twenty, then a hundred, and I didn’t have the power to comprehend it all. My mind was unprepared for the sheer amount of pleasure that was pouring into it. It wasn’t until well later, when everything was done and my throat was raw that I realized I was making any sound at all, let alone screaming. In short, Alan was world class in oral. To this day, I have no idea where he learned everything he knew, but he ate me out so well, it felt like I had died and gone to heaven. I have no idea how long it took, somewhere between not long enough and forever, but I finally orgasmed, an experience I can only describe as feeling like a nuclear bomb went off in my brain, which then leaked out my pussy with all my other juices. I’d cum while masturbating before, but this was a whole new level.

I had barely come down from that incredible high, becoming aware of the raw feeling of my throat and the fact that I was covered in sweat, when I felt Alan notch himself against my opening. I barely had time to take a deep breath before he pressed forward, gently guiding himself inside me, stretching me with what felt like a baseball bat. It hurt like hell, but I never wanted him to stop. When I finally felt his pelvis bump against mine and stay there, allowing me to get used to the feeling of supreme fullness, I let my breath out. After a couple seconds, Alan slowly pulled back almost all the way, then firmly back in, then out, then back in, steadily picking up the pace with each thrust, fucking my wet pussy like I’d wanted Joe to. Grabbing a handful of sheets in each fist, I could do nothing else but ride out the storm. Finally, I felt the tense twitching and slight irregularity in Alan’s thrusts indicating that he was coming to a finish. With a roar, he pulled himself out at the last possible second and shot his load over my still-clothed back. He came more than Joe had in all of our sessions combined, and I found myself wondering with horror what would have happened if I had been blowing him. When he was finished, I pushed myself up carefully, trying not to spill anything that was pooled on my back. I cautiously unzipped my hoodie and peeled it off, wadding it up to trap the impressive load like a wad of Kleenex, and tossed it on my hamper. I sat on the bed, looking at Alan with an involuntary smile, my tits free for him to see for the first time. I halfway hoped that the sight of them hanging there would be enough to get him ready for round two (the other half of me wanted to curl up and sleep forever), and for a moment, he stared at them, and his impressive cock twitched, but he shook his head. He slipped his shorts on and smiled at me, caressing my cheek, like he had at the beginning of our encounter, and he just left. Confused, I looked at the clock. From the time he had knocked on the door to the time he left, no more than 45 minutes had passed, and neither of us had said a word to each other.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9cob1k/branching_out_fm