Let’s rewind. It is summertime 2008 and I’m eighteen years old, maybe a month or so after prom. I have a few months before college starts, and it’s been almost two years since I’ve had a boyfriend. I am almost painfully horny. I decide to find someone to help me.
After several days of chatting online, Adam, also eighteen, and I decide to meet up in real life. He’s from a city about 30 minutes from mine, also recently graduated from high school and awaiting college. We go out to a movie and linger at a Denny’s. We make out in the parking lot and agree to go out again later in the week.
We continue to meet, hooking up in our cars, or waiting until one of our houses is empty. We don’t have sex, but still manage to have an excellent time with everything else available on the sexual menu.
One day he lets me know that his parents are going out of town for a church retreat. It means we can have his house all to ourselves for some sinful behavior.
I decide to dress up. White button down shirt. Purple plaid pleated skirt. White knee-high socks. White shoes. I’m sure I garner some attention as I gas up my car down the street from his house, but I haven’t even put the finishing touches on just yet. I pull into his driveway, pull my hair into two pigtails, unbutton the shirt, and tie it closed in the front with a loose knot, my white bra just barely peeking out.
He opens the door and pulls me in by the waist. After pushing me against the wall to make out with me and paw at my breasts, he picks me up and carries me up the stairs, knocking a few pictures on the wall so they hang off-center. He doesn’t care. He throws me on the bed and pulls his shirt off before climbing on top of me. He is extremely hard, and I love the feeling of his strained pants rubbing against the thin fabric of my panties. His hand gropes under my bra, fingers playing with my nipple.
He rolls off me and slips his hands under my skirt. He pulls down my panties and throws them aside. Settling between my knees, he pushes the skirt up to start playing with my clit, and inserts one finger, then two. His tongue laps at me. His fingers beckon in an aggressive “come hither” motion. He makes me cum. Hard.
After I recover from my orgasmic stupor, we make out again. He takes off his pants and boxers. He unties my shirt, unhooks my bra, and slips my skirt off. We are under the covers completely naked, a foreign and delightful feeling when you’re used to hooking up in cars or masturbating with your clothes still on, afraid of being caught.
I fondle him and jerk him off a little while we kiss. The insides of my naked thighs are slick with my wetness. He pulls me on top of him, his cock between my wet thighs. I cross my legs to keep them together. He holds me by the hips and fucks the space between my thighs. It gets him close, and when he’s ready, I roll on my back and suck him off a bit before he jerks himself off to completion, shooting his cum across my breasts and stomach. He gets me a towel to clean up. Good enough for now. We fall asleep for a nap.
Once we wake, we make and eat a quick dinner. He’s shirtless with athletic shorts, I’m wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. He teases me and urges me back upstairs, letting me lead the way so he can see my naked ass and swat at it playfully while I climb the stairs.
We climb back into bed. He asks me if I’ve ever watched porn before. “Not really.” I say. He pulls out his laptop and gets it started. I can’t remember what we watched, but we just played with each other and made running commentary as the scene unfolded. It ended and he put the computer away.
“Do you trust me?” He asked. “Yes.” I say softly, wondering what is coming next. He ties a t-shirt over my eyes and teases me with sporadic kisses on the lips, leaving me straining to find him as he backs away before leaning in again. His weight shifts and I hear the clink of metal. “Hold your wrists out.” I do as I’m told. Cold metal meets my skin. He cinches the cuffs around my wrists. Using the chain between the cuffs, he pins my arms up over my head and tells me, “Leave them here.” He lets go. He trails down my body with his lips, paying special attention to my lips, neck, and nipples, but still teasing me and stopping short.
I moan, and my hands come down to stroke his hair, and he corrects me swiftly, pulling my chain back over my head. “Let me touch you,” I whisper breathily. “No,” he growls before caressing my face and kissing me. I disobey and my hands reach for him again. I hear more metal. And now I am restrained, cuffed to the bed, hands forced over my head with no ability to reach out. “I told you ‘No’.” He keeps licking and sucking my nipples as I writhe in pleasure. He fingers me and gets me close, but denies me. Teasing me again and again.
He uncuffs me after I stop fighting it, and he removes my blindfold. I attack him with kisses and caresses. He pulls us out of bed and carries me down the hall. He turns on the shower. We get in and he picks up where he left off. He takes a knee and eats me out while finger fucking me as the hot water runs down my body. I need the shower wall to hold me and I grab at the soap dish. When I cum, he has to support me as my knees give way. As soon as I’ve cum, he’s jerking off. We swap positions, me on one knee in front of him, blowing him while he strokes himself. At some point, I can’t keep up with his pace, so I await him with lips parted, ready for his load.
He cums. Part of it makes it into my open mouth, part of it overshoots all over my face, and yet more is shot on my chest and dribbled down my neck. I swallow what he’s given me as I stand up. We laugh at the artwork he’s created over my body. He takes warm water and cleans my face, then traces his fingers on my pearl necklace before washing it away.
We finish our shower before snuggling once more into his bed. We take one more short naked nap before it is time for me to go home. I get dressed, but in the shorts and t-shirt I packed so it wasn’t so obvious when I came home.
My mom asks me how my date with Adam went. In typical teenage fashion, I respond in as few words as possible. “It was good.” She asks what we did. “We had dinner and watched a movie.” She asked me how the movie was. “It was okay.” She gives me a strained smile, frustrated that I’m not more forthcoming, but I don’t want any more questions. I might sound like an asshole teenager, but I’m really doing us both a favor. I trust that she doesn’t want an honest depiction of how my night went.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ioasuk/i_f_surprise_my_fwb_m_with_a_school_girl_outfit