When my mother told you I was going to study first-year anthropology at the university across town from where you lived, it was kind of you to offer me your spare room. Even if you were a little reluctant and doing it more as a favour to her…
Maybe you thought I wouldn’t accept? Really? Like you didn’t notice I’ve always had a crush on you…
Over the first few weeks of staying with you, I tried to keep out of your space, but I think you grew to enjoy my company? It wasn’t just that on my study-days we often spent time together, or because of the slightly stagnant relationship you have with your guy, or the fact that you were working from home a lot. I hope it doesn’t sound arrogant, but I honestly think you were a little surprised at how charming I can be.
You seemed to become more and more happy to be around me anyway. Like, do you remember a couple of weeks ago when you came in to the living room and asked me what I was reading, and I started talking about the anthropologist Lévi-Strauss and you said you’d heard of him when you studied structuralism, and you joked that you’d always imagined he had great jeans? And then we started talking all about our favourite jeans, and you mentioned the new pair of high rises you bought, and I asked to see them, and you raised an eyebrow at me, but you went and put them on to show me anyway? Yeah, you could tell from my reaction that they really fitted your ass perfectly.
And then last week, when I got home from university early, you were at home working on your laptop in the kitchen and you asked how my day was, so I sat down at the table and began telling me about one of the courses I’d been taking that semester.
I’d been learning about how many of the sex-positive aspects of indigenous cultures had been squashed by colonisation, but that there were still some traditional societies which maintained an open and positive view of sexuality. It seemed like you were interested, and I knew from talking to you over the past few weeks that you enjoyed debating colonization and society. So, I guess that’s why I was comfortable telling you about the case studies of African and Polynesian groups my class had been looking at. Especially the case of Mangaia in the Cook Islands and how the young people in that culture observe adult sexuality without any stigma, and how they’re openly taught sexual and interpersonal skills to prepare them for intimate relationships – something I felt was missing in my own experience.
Anyway, you seemed to agree that Western society was often rather repressed. Were you shocked when I mentioned that in the sacred Polynesian sexual traditions I’d been studying, older women and younger men have a special relationship? Older women – sometimes even aunts – are tasked with initiating the young men into the pleasures of sexual intercourse…
As I stared at you waiting for your reaction, I think you understood what I was hinting at. I wasn’t just recounting information; I was presenting you with a proposal.
You laughed awkwardly and told me that you weren’t so sure if your guy would be keen on the idea, so I pretended I was joking and said that it couldn’t hurt if I asked him? Then you laughed and told me to go ahead. You probably thought I was all talk.
But I did ask him.
As he was leaving one evening, I walked out to the car with him. He was like, *dude, I’m not interested in hearing about all this cultural stuff, but feel free to give her your best shot*.
I don’t know how your conversation went with him later, but I take it he has a bit of a kink? He likes to hear you tell him about your experiences with other guys? From what I’ve read on the internet, the cuck thing is pretty common, I guess.
Anyway, I know you must have talked to him about it. Maybe he just encouraged you to tease me, so you’d tell him about it afterward. Maybe he thought he could use us to satisfy his kink. Or maybe he gave you full permission to seduce me? I don’t know. But you blushed a little when I sat down beside you on the big sofa the next day and reminded you about our conversation about the Cook Islands and told you he’d said he was fine with you teaching me.
I guess you were still a bit unsure about the whole thing though, because you told me that while you thought different cultures had different merits, it was a risk to operate outside of our own society’s taboos, and that while you were happy to discuss sex with me in detail, we would be putting ourselves in a very delicate situation in terms of engaging in anything physically.
I agreed, but argued back that the whole point of sex-positivity is to consider all consensual sexual activities as fundamentally healthy and pleasurable, and to encourage experimentation. Perhaps you could at least consider the idea that some degree of practical demonstration might help my sexual understanding and wellbeing?
I guess it was a hard point to argue with, so you said that yeah, that was probably to true to some extent. Then you asked me if I had any questions in particular…
I mentioned a number of things I already knew from biology classes about the female reproductive system, and things like statistics on the length of male vs female orgasms, but I said what I really wanted to know was how to arouse a woman – where and when to touch, how long I should focus on each zone, how much pressure to use.
You began explaining to me as best you could about foreplay, telling me to start by lightly touching and gently stroking a woman, to play with her hair, and caress her shoulders and thighs before moving onto her breasts and circling her areola.
When you said the word ‘areola’ I looked at you blankly. It’s this part of the nipple, you said, bravely circling your own through your shirt to demonstrate the outer part. As you touched yourself, I guess you felt your nipple growing hard. Then I looked down at your breast just as its little peak began to show itself through the fabric.
I know exactly what happened to you next, because you explained the stages of a woman’s arousal to me. Maybe you felt a little pang of sexual excitement, feeling my eyes on you?
When I said I hadn’t had the privilege of feeling a woman’s breasts before, you laughed a little and told me that they’re not that big of a deal: half of the population has them, after all.
Then I asked if I could touch yours.
You thought about it for a moment. Maybe your slight sense of arousal may have swayed your response a little? It was only boobs after all, right?
You took one of my hands and placed it on your shirt, against your left breast. I carefully and gently began rubbing my palm around the fabric, feeling it’s shape and allowing my fingers to run over your protruding nipple. Then when I looked at you pleadingly, you took my hand again, lifted the bottom hem of your shirt, and slipped it under your top.
I caressed you like that for a moment as we both drew in a deep breath or two, but your shirt was restricting my movement and your bra was preventing me from feeling the texture of your nipple, so you lifted your top over your head. I knew what I had to do. I was so excited you probably noticed the painful bulge in my jeans as I placed my hands around your back and tried to get a hold of your bra clip. I fumbled, then fumbled some more, until you reassured me that it was a tricky thing to get the hang of, and you told me to take my time. I did. And it clicked. Your bra fell away and your breasts lolled out. You gently grabbed a fistful of my hair and guided my head down, so my face was right at your nipple. Then I parted my lips and you pushed me in. I began alternating between your breasts, bathing them with my tongue, lapping at your nipples.
You encouraged me when my touch was too soft and pulled back a little when I was too rough. After a minute or so, I could tell I had the balance right because you whispered to me that I was sending pleasure waves through your body, and arousing other parts. You asked me if I knew what the labia and the clitoral hood looked like when a woman became aroused, and when you told me that you were becoming wet, I could only imagine it was this beautiful natural thing, like a tree in springtime releasing its sap.
I whispered back that I’d only seen pictures of a vagina on the internet, but that I’d like to see one for real.
I guess by then you were done with questioning whether what we were doing was culturally appropriate or not. Maybe you ended up agreeing with my ideas of sex-positivity and openness, after all? Or maybe you wanted a story to tell your man? Or maybe you just wanted the simple pleasure of teaching me sex.
Whatever it was, you hitched your shirt up around your waist and tugged your knickers down. I lowered my face so I could see your naked womanhood up-close. The first thing you must have felt was my hot breath spreading over you down there. From your reaction, I imagine it was like the heat of a wildfire wind blowing an inferno of pleasure across your body. You cupped the back of my neck and pulled me in closer against your pussy. There was no point in talking anymore. It was time for you to prompt me with your physical responses alone.
As my lips touched your mound, you began by raking my nails along the back of my scalp, shifting your hips closer with anticipation. I leaned straight in and my nose nudged the hood of your clit, causing goose-bumps to spread across your inner thighs. Then you felt another rush of pleasure as my tongue furrowed down your slit. Your pussy lips were stuck together slightly with your wetness, and I had to use the tip of my tongue to unseal you. Then my tongue unfurled into your pussy, dipping into your wet entrance, and slid up between your sensitive labia to press against your clit.
You rubbed my fingers through my hair as my tongue slipped back and forth around your engorged clit, nudging it this way and that. I picked up on each cue you gave, making my tongue flat and broad and wiping it up and down as if I was cleaning you, or tensing it to poke into the soft velvet of your entrance, or smooching your pussy lips, or swirling it around your clit. As dance of my tongue grew faster and faster, more and more energetic, I grasped your thighs for leverage and began to penetrate you with it, stretching my mouth as wide as I could, forcing my tongue as deep as it could go.
My desire for your body began to consume me and I think you could tell how ready I was for you because you reached down, quickly undid my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. Then you focused on the tent in my boxers, running your fingers along the side of my erection, rubbing the thin layer of cotton up and down on my shaft. I was already breathing heavily, and I guess you didn’t want to torture me for too long, so you quickly fished out my erection and stoked it gently, with your thumb gently holding the little ridge of skin leading to the head of my cock.You barely needed to touch me though because I was already fully erect.
You pushed me back down so that I was flat on my back, my head raised by the arm of the sofa, and my cock sticking straight up in the air. As you climbed over me and looked down, I could see your inner lips were full and pink and wet and fully separated.
My cock was lying a little to the left, against your inner thigh, so you had to wrap your fingers around it for guidance.
Before you lowered yourself onto me you paused. Maybe you felt a slight pang of naughtiness for taking my virginity? There was no need. I wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way. This was like a dream come true.
We looked at each other for a moment and gave each other little smiles. That was all we needed.
Suddenly my erection was between the soft petals of your pussy lips. You lowered yourself, slowly sinking the head of my cock into your pussy. Then you leant forward, putting both of your hands around my waist, your breasts falling over my face, taking me in all the way in and staying still there to let me savour what felt like the greatest moment of my life.
You were going to silently teach me to fuck you, and all I needed to do was follow your lead.
You slipped one hand so it was under my tight young ass and pulled me into you even further. Then you began moving up and down on me, while putting your other hand to your clit so you could demonstrate your self-pleasure to me. I was torn between watching your fingers move on your clit, and your breasts bouncing. To distract myself from cumming too quickly, I reached up and took them in my palms, cradling them like fruit on scales, holding them fast then releasing them, and watching them move.
You repeated the riding motion until it was lodged in my muscle memory, then you began increasing the pace. Soon we’d established a rhythm and you lay flat on me. A strange feeling came over me. I had the feeling you wanted to be my school project, my secret practice-dummy, my personal fuck-doll. So, as we progressed, I tried to take over more and more. It seemed so natural for me to take over the reins. Sure, I was inexperienced, and I accidentally slipped out of you a couple of times, but there was something instinctive in me wanting to drive the motions in any way I could, and when I began holding you tightly, pushing my hips up into you, I felt you relax and let go, as if you were completely surrendering to my enthusiastic young hands.
A layer of moisture formed between our bodies as you lay flat on me, your breasts sliding up and down my firm chest. My cock kept sliding in and out of your pussy, jamming your hand against your pubic bone and rubbing your fingers against your clit. Your pussy was so incredibly wet that I could feel it spreading to your thighs, wetting mine, and we could hear every little detail of my cock slipping in and out of you.
I was getting close to an orgasm so I had to stop for a moment. You understood, and paused there for a moment, still rubbing your clit. I felt you just lying there on my chest, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. Then you propped yourself up a little on your elbow, eyes wide, breathing hard, and you began moving on me again.
I knew what it meant.
I began thrusting my hips to meet your movements. Our bodies collided over and over, harder and faster, until we were staring at each other in the eye, moaning, and that magical sensation began. The tone and rhythm of our breathing was triggering something in each other: it felt as though some tangible energy was working its way between us – from your body to mine, and from mine to yours.
Suddenly we began climaxing. I could feel your vaginal muscles contracting on my young cock as it rode up into your enflamed pussy, bouncing gently into the cushioned part of your cervix. Our minds swam, and our bodies begin to shake uncontrollably. Then you heard me moan, and you felt my young hot cum erupting against your cervix. I was lobbing volley after volley of semen deep into your pussy. You spasmed over and over on me too, releasing more wetness all over my young cock, and leaning down and kissing me so hard our lips would get swollen and bruised, slamming yourself onto me so violently and urgently that it felt like our whole bodies were falling apart all over each other, exploding like volcanoes on a Pacific island.
I kept up the thrusting until I’d completely emptied myself into you and my orgasm was totally spent. You fell limp onto me too, and felt the gentle tug as my cock began retracting, returning to its normal state, then finally slipping out of you, dropping a dollop of our fluids all over my stomach.
Was our volcanic explosion a natural disaster, or a gift from the gods? Whatever it was – it was the most intense feeling I’d ever had. Of all my human anthropology classes, it’ll be the one I always remember.
[*](https://ibb.co/XXRx101)
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jet7k2/sexually_initiating_your_young_familyfriend_the_m