The first time I (22/M) made my ex squirt (20/F) (and also how we fell for each other) [FM]

Preface: Just want to say I surprised by the response to [my first story](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/hyltsz/i_24m_fucked_my_longtime_crush_after_she_23f/). I mostly wrote it so I didn’t have to replay the events in my head every other week to keep them up to date (yeah, just to keep them up to date, no other reason…) and I’d have it in a place where it wouldn’t go away and so in 20 years I can go back and read it again. Storyteller first, pervert second… so another story… this one is about Lisa, and it’s from about 18 months before my first story. Also, I’ve got a habit of being attracted to women who challenge me — I love being under a thumb, what can I say?

—

I guess I forgot to mention much about myself. I’m 6’6″, dark hair, a lean build (well, I had one before quarantining since mid-March, wear a fucking mask, people) and while I’m white, I’ve got a light olive-ish complexion. In cabs at night, I’m often asked if I’m North African or Lebanese — I’m very much a European mutt: mostly Irish, English, Polish, and some old Eastern Bloc countries too, but this is what genetics have dealt me. What I’m saying is that I tan very well for a tall white guy who can’t hoop.

Anyway. So about Lisa. I described her in my last story as: “Lisa was Irish, brilliant, red-headed (hair past her shoulders), chaotic, beautiful, a little troubled, and extremely outgoing and adventurous (both in and outside the bedroom, though this story isn’t about her, I have fifty public sex stories about us).” She’s also about 5’3″, sort of looks like Anna Kendrick with redder hair (not as skinny but still a bit slimmer than average), and made a habit of not walking anywhere, but… hurrying everywhere? She didn’t just walk. She moved fast, but didn’t run or jog. I don’t know why it’s important, but it sort of weirdly defines her — she never slows down. And this won’t be the last Lisa story.

Long before we dated or hooked up, I had to deal with her a bunch of times because of some student government business (I worked for our student government, she worked in the office of one of the academic student societies, even though she was only in her second year, a real go-getter), and we really didn’t get on very well professionally. She was, as I said, chaotic. And beautiful. And most of all, a character. Didn’t have a problem stirring up a ruckus. In my fourth year, I worked my ass off and so did she — but she was also a pain in it. Constantly questioning our decision-making, calling out our governance in the student press or to our faces — not making something up, she just disagreed from time to time, and we had to deal with it. Difference of opinion isn’t criminal. I viewed her as a sparring partner, not someone to be disliked.

One night in early January right after Christmas break but before classes started back up, I was at a pub just off campus with some friends (not the pub that Hanna worked at), and she came in alone. I hadn’t really seen her outside of the “work” environment (work in quotes because it was student government crap. At the time, biggest deal in the world. Now? I would kill for that level of work stress) — she would come around sometimes on “team-building nights” (aka getting hammered). But mostly because she was an Fine Arts major, she would be in the studio working on sculptures or paintings, or whatever. She’s extremely talented, and I’ve got nothing to say but praise for her art. Her more “fun” outgoing nature, I would discover, came out when she wasn’t focused on her marks or work. She sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, so I walked over to her to say hello.

“Lisa, hello!”, I gestured with my hands in a welcoming fashion, “in the spirit of the New Year, I thought I’d come over and extend an olive branch your way. Did you have a good break?”

“It was fine. Lots of trouble back home going on, so I’m happy to be here dealing with *your* trouble instead,” and gave me a smile and a sigh, “How was yours?”

“It was cool. Suburban Pennsylvania in the winter is really exciting as you can imagine,” I deadpanned. She stared at me with a little eyebrow furrow and a smirk. “Ah, right, you don’t know much about P-A. So… are you meeting people? Do you want to join us?” I gestured to my table.

“You hitting on me?”

“No, no, I –”

“I’m fucking with you. Yeah, I’m meeting some friends in a few but I’ll bug your mates for a bit.”

We walked over to my table. I was there with the two guys I lived with, James and Alan. Both very good friends, they’d actually come to the US for New Years Eve that year and we flew back together before classes began (needless to say, posh British accents are like catnip for many of the 20-ish aged women we talked to in the Greater Pittsburgh Area, and I would be lying if it didn’t help me that I was with them). “Gentlemen, be nice to this kind lady. Her name is Lisa, and she’s a pain in my ass, but with the new year we’ve — well, I’ve — decided to turn over a new leaf.” She curtsied in a mocking fashion and took a seat with us. We all chatted for a while — Lisa held court with James and Alan admirably, and I took a back seat. Seeing her in this environment versus what I typically did, I felt a bit attracted to her. I didn’t normally see her dressed up like this — she was naturally pretty without makeup — but being a pain in the ass definitely threw cold water on possible feelings for her. My mates weren’t what you’d call shy or quiet by any stretch, and she kept up with them and their bullshit. They’d hit on her and she’d deflect it easily with a joke or a sarcastic quip. Seeing her from this perspective was eye-opening. About 30 minutes later, her friends showed up, and she got up to join them. I walked her over to their table.

“That wasn’t awful, was it?” I asked.

“Yeah, not *too* awful, hah,” she said with a laugh, “You realize that was the first time we’ve spent time together where at least 10% of me didn’t hate your guts — though I think your mates fancy me?”

“I’m sure they do, you look–” I stopped myself and she cocked her head to the side, and I paused for a moment, “Well, saying it wasn’t awful means a lot coming from you. Seriously though — I don’t want this semester to be like the last. If you have problems, please, text or call me first and we can see if we can work stuff out without making a big deal about it, okay? I’m just trying to make everyone’s lives easier, yours especially.”

She fake-sighed at that. “I guess I can *try*. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“So, you would need my number, right? Or I could get yours?”

Biiiiiig eyebrow raise to that from her. “Yeah…. alright. Text me… but I’m onto you.” She gave me her number, I texted her, and she walked away without a look back to me.

A few days later, with the semester started, I was studying late in my office, locked up and walked past where she worked — I could see her — the lights were still on so I gave a knock on the window. She mock-rolled her eyes, unlocked the door and stuck her head out, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to get a drink — one drink — and wanted to see if you’d come along. No pressure.”

Lisa looked me up and down. “Yeah, you’re up to something. Okay, I’ll come along. Don’t try and butter me up too much, I’ll ruin this whole ‘make good’ thing if you do.”

She went back, gathered her things, and we walked along in the cold together to a pub nearby. We sort of huddled as a pair because it was an especially cold night, but it wasn’t something I’d consider romantic by any stretch. Once we got to the pub I took her coat and we sat and talked for what was meant to be one drink, which turned into two, three, four — I think we spent three-plus hours there together. We didn’t talk work at all, but about life. We had a lot of things in common despite an ocean splitting us in terms of family problems and other issues, and as time passed over the night, her “act” became far more endearing. She dropped her defensive shield and started cracking jokes I didn’t expect. We were having such a good time that we lost track of time and the lights came up around 1a. The moment kind of shocked us both, and I paid the tab. “Look, it’s late, it’s my fault you’re still out — I’ll walk you home, okay? I don’t want you going alone.” (Insert YNWA joke here.) She said sure — it wasn’t far (with that cold snap thankfully), and we stopped outside her building. Without much internal coercing, I decided to be forward with her. “I’m sorry about our squabbles in the past, really. I know you’re only doing what you have to do, so, I really don’t want it to be a problem, okay?”

She smiled, told me it was okay, and moved to hug me. It was probably (definitely) (MOST definitely) the booze, but I decided to not just hug her and when we stopped embracing, I went to kiss her — she did not resist. Our tongues and lips became one for a minute — she tasted so good. Her warm lips were delicate and her tongue was powerful, swishing against mine. I gripped her wavy red hair and pulled it just slightly, eliciting a very quiet but happy noise from her. She broke the embrace gently. “Sorry about that”, I said, “I just felt it in the moment. I had such a fun time with you and all… and, if I can just say, you look fantastic tonight.” She laughed, told me to go home, and that she’d call me tomorrow. Needless to say, I went home and jerked off within seconds of getting into bed — but stopped before I came. Lisa was all I could think about. Her hair, her smile, and frankly her brogue. For all the shit she gave me over the fall semester, she was totally endearing herself to me now. In spite of her “I’ll call you tomorrow”, I texted her, mostly because of the booze — so fuck it, and I’ve never been one for playing phone games.

> **That was fun. I want to see you again soon. You wanna to watch a movie at my place this week?**
>
> Silence for a few minutes (not unexpected), then **buzz** *u could be worse i guess. i pick the movie.*
>
> **Works for me, pick something good.**
>
> *i’m sure you only like shite and i study art. it’ll be bloody torture for you*

I put my phone down, finished my dirty sinful business, and tried to go to sleep. A few days later, Uni was fully back in swing and while I wanted to focus on that and my work, all I could think about was that night at the pub (and obviously that kiss) with Lisa. I was having lunch and got a text from her.

> *should i come around Friday?*
>
> **Only if you bring a good movie. I’m not in the mood to watch some arthouse crap.** (Secretly, I really do like arthouse movies. I studied Philosophy, but I had a Film Theory minor. She didn’t know that. Also, fun fact: don’t major in Philosophy and minor in Film Theory. There aren’t a lot of Philosophy stores and Film Theory factories. Onward.)
>
> *i got an indie film for us, by a director you’ve probably never heard of, you’ll be bored in minutes*
>
> **Okay, okay, fine. I’ll try and stay off my phone. Come by around 9?** I included my address **Just text me when you’re outside and I’ll come down to get you**
>
> *see you then!*

Needless to say the hours absolutely dragged for those days. The night Lisa was set to come over, I told Alan and James to scram so I could have some time alone, and thankfully like the blokes they were (and are! We do Zoom calls almost every week despite the time difference since the pandemic began) to get lost on my behalf. I cleaned to the best of my ability our pigsty flat and my room as well, even making the bed because I’m a gentleman (and really, really hopeful). I showered up, put on my finest joggers, and gave myself a little pep talk. I went downstairs after she called, and we walked up together — she had on a skirt with her boots and light shirt under her long winter coat despite the cold January night — she clearly didn’t show up wearing anything too concealing. “So, what movie did you bring?” She smiled and said nothing. Once we got into my flat, I asked her if she wanted anything to drink — classy guy that I was, I popped open a few lagers and she put the DVD in the player. “I don’t get to know what we’re about to watch, really?”, and she hit play on the remote. What sounded like an Elvis-ish song played, and Christian Slater’s name appeared in the credits, along with Patricia Arquette’s, and I was made aware we were to be watching a Tony Scott film, and, oh **shit**. It’s TRUE ROMANCE.

(pause) Now, I played it off like I hadn’t seen this movie, but I owned a copy and it’s one of my favorites (favourites?) ever (It’s not like it’s some unknown film, but if you haven’t seen True Romance, you should, it’s fucking great. It’s a Tarantino script (though uncredited), with Slater, Arquette, James Gandolfini, Gary Oldman, Christopher Walken, Brad Pitt, and a cast of a thousand “that guys”). Anyway, the first ten minutes tell the story of a lonely guy who works in a comic book shop (Slater) who is set up with a call girl (Arquette) for his birthday by his boss without Slater knowing, but about twelve minutes in… they fuck. And it’s a really hot scene, even by 2020 Hollywood standards — but this came out in 1993. The actors have amazing chemistry and there’s a decent amount of nudity from both of them. (Yes, I just rewatched the opening 15 minutes of True Romance to make sure I got the timings right, big whoop.) (unpause)

It was about 11 minutes into the movie and the precursor to the sex scene began — we were sitting together on the couch. I knew what’s coming, I presumed she knew what’s coming since she brought the movie, and Slater’s character showed Arquette’s the comic book shop — Lisa put her hand on my upper thigh but didn’t look my way. And then came the sex scene (which has to be one of the earliest sex scenes in a movie between main characters, I imagine). Arquette’s breasts and Slater’s ass were on screen, and I went for it. Put my arm around her and leaned in — but Lisa just watched the movie, so I gently tappped her chin to face me and for a moment our eyes met (the song playing in that scene is pretty great). Our lips locked and didn’t stop — she immediately straddled me and continued to make out — I was immediately hard and we were both breathing heavily. The sex scene ended and the mood was dulled slightly, but in my infinite wisdom I grabbed the remote to pause the DVD (spoiler alert) >!with Slater and Arquette sitting on top of the billboard where she admits she’s a call girl and he accepts her for it!< (watch the movie… please… it’s great) so that we don’t start hearing the non-sex stuff. She grabbed my arm and pulled away from the kiss — “Ay, I love this part, it’s romantic!” We stopped making out and she craned her head around to watch the scene (which is admittedly sweet) — after it ended she turned back to me, smiled, and asked if we should go off to my room.

We scampered off to my room and immediately she got on top of me and we continued to make out. I didn’t want to be too forward, so I only gripped her sides without coming too close to her breasts, and after a few minutes, she stopped kissing me to remove her shirt. “It’s okay,” she said slightly condescendingly yet romantically, “You can touch me a bit,” and I took her advice. You know those somersaults your stomach gets when you hook up with someone the first time, and you feel that real attraction — not just physically, but truly emotionally as well? At that moment, my stomach might as well have been doing roller coaster loop-de-loops. My hands wandered all over her body — and hers did mine — touching, caressing. She was leaning deep into me and I tried to unlatch her bra — she moved back and took over that for me, slowly removing it from behind then from the front until her breasts were exposed to me. They were bigger than I expected, her bra had been doing some work — she had beautiful puffy nipples that were pink in color with her lightly freckled body, and they were perfect for her breasts which I’d later find out were 34C (don’t judge me for remembering these things, okay?). They were extraordinarily perky, and sat high on her body for their size (one day, when we’d be in a relationship, she’d ask me to take photos of her breasts so she could “have a surgeon one day fix them to look like this again”, and sorry, but I deleted those photos long, long, long ago). I went in and started kissing and licking those gorgeous nipples — she moaned immediately, so I laid her on the bed and sat back for a moment. We both grinned at one another for a beat, sort of a “fuck, we’re actually doing this?” kind of thing.

I kept kissing her nipples and she slowly pushed me away to shimmy off her skirt, revealing her cotton undies. I slowly worked my way from her beautiful breasts down, bit by bit — I got to her stomach and her panties and asked “do you mind if I take these off?” She smiled and nodded consent, and slowly I removed them. Gently I started to kiss and caress her inner thighs from her knees up to her pelvis — she had a rather full bush, which I found/find very sexy (though, really, I find most any pubic hair situation sexy because… I’ve been allowed to be there, being blessed with permission to see it), and eventually licked her labia and gently her clit — she moaned loudly, “fuck, okay then.” She smelled clean, but not without the wonderful familiar smell — it was obvious she had prepared for this possibly happening. I kept kissing the areas around her vagina and gently rubbing her labia for awhile. I joked about how “you know you’ll never get me to submit to you this easily at work, right?”, and she laughed, but pulled my hair to retaliate. She was wet from the start, but I could feel her becoming wetter by the moment, and her pussy tightened around my fingers to the point of barely being able to move them — and I was more aggressively kissing and sucking on her clit in a repeated fashion. She gripped my hair and exclaimed, “I’m gonna come!”

In that moment, I readied myself for what I had been involved with in the past regarding female orgasms — some mix of shuddering, shaking, hair-pulling, a suddenly very tight pussy wrapped around my fingers. Moments later, *SPLOOSH* and my face was wet from her orgasm. It wasn’t at all like I had seen in, um, movies, but looking back, probably one of the three most surprising things that’s happened to me in my life. Me and my bed were now pretty wet — and though I was shocked from the moment, Lisa grabbed my hair harder and pushed my face in, because she was about to orgasm again. And once again, I confusedly but happily was splashed with a wave of her pleasure — and a third time followed, but no squirt this time. Eventually, she released my hair. “FUUUUuuUUuuck!,” she exclaimed, “Shite!” Covered in her orgasm (and a lot of confusion), I flopped down in the bed next to her. I had never experienced of that kind of female orgasm — Lisa’s the only woman I’ve been with who can gush like that. “Can we talk about what just happened,” I asked, “because that’s a first for me? Do you do that every time you have an orgasm? Even alone?” My mind was going a million miles a second, I had so many questions.

Lisa giggled a bit, “Nah, it only happens when I’m super horny and sometimes if I’m pissed. Not always. Clever trick, right?” Immediately, it became my challenge (so long as she would let me) to make her orgasm like that every time we would fool around. I climbed on top of her and we started kissing again. She had such soft lips, her hair was a mess at this point, and I loved it. All I could think was, “this woman who gave me so much shit for months is in my bed and this feels amazing with her” — in that moment, she was fucking perfect. We made out for a while before I suggested I grab a condom from my nightstand and she pulled back. “Slow down,” she smiled a bit mockingly at me, “Is that what you think of me? I’m not gonna shag you that quick.” She got out from under me, shoved me down onto the bed, and shimmied down my chest. “But maybe next time,” she said with a wink (note: it was not next time, nor the next, nor the next, which is okay because you should never pressure someone into sex who isn’t ready), “I’ll still make sure you get yours now.”

She kissed my stomach and pelvis, then took her tits and rubbed them against my dick — specifically her gorgeous puffy nipples with the head of my dick. She did that for a minute, then went down and lightly kissed my shaft. After a minute or two, she started kissing it from the bottom up to the head, gently at first and then more aggressive. Faster and faster, she worked my dick up and down, taking moments to stop sucking it to kiss and caress it with her tongue. She would drop down to tongue my balls with my dick in hand, and then move back up to kiss and lick my shaft while still jerking me off. She stopped at one point to grab a hair-tie she had in her pants pocket on my floor to put her hair in a bun or pony tail, which gave me a second to regroup. “Fuck, you’re good at this, you know that?” I told her. “I mean, I’ve got three brothers”, she said as she laughed, then lightly pushed me back down, and worked my dick like it was a messy rib. Up and down, making a total mess, smiling and appearing to love every moment of what was going on. It wasn’t much longer before I told her I was going to cum — she just kept going, looking at me with her green eyes, and slobbering on my cock. I finally came — I shot rope after rope of my cum in her mouth and throat, and she barely blinked (though slightly gagged for a second, but that didn’t stop her from what she was doing). She grabbed a tissue from my bedside and discreetly spit my cum out — “you haven’t earned me swallowing all that yet” was her defense, which, fair point.

We cuddled for a while — her hair smelled great, and our naked bodies entwined as we cooled down. She agreed to stay the night since it was late-ish by then, and we were happy there together. We engaged in pillow talk about our sexual impulses, and she explained more about the whole *SPLOOSH* thing that had happened and how it felt — it was eye-opening for me (um, no pun intended). In that moment, I knew I couldn’t just hook up with her, but there wasn’t an easy way to say that, so I kept it to myself. We had a whole semester where I expected to squabble publicly, but we *also* had a whole semester to fool around privately — she didn’t know that I had applied for an extension on my student visa because of stuff at home, so I figured I’d keep that under my hat for the time being. We woke up in the late morning, fooled around for a while, and stopped to get brekkie on the way to her flat. Outside her building, she grabbed the collar of my coat. “God,” she said with a tug, smile, and a kiss, “this isn’t going to be a thing, okay?” I laughed, “Don’t worry,” smiling back at her, “I don’t care either way, you’re such a bug at work.” She pushed my chest and walked into her building.

—
—
—

I was fucking smitten.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i1arag/the_first_time_i_22m_made_my_ex_squirt_20f_and