Hi everybody.
I’m practicing my storycraft by writing about sexual experiences I’ve had in my life. Because I care as much about the buildup as the fucking, these are going to be long, I’m sorry, but I’ll bold the first sentence when the fucking starts so that you can scroll straight there if that’s your thing.
This one is more kinda cute sexy than porn sexy.
Also, I’m bisexual, so some of these stories will have more dicks than you may be comfortable with, but I’ll post those on /r/gaystoriesgonewild, shhhhh, it’s OK, there’s boobies just ahead, you’re fine, go on now. So if you care you can find those in my post history, but that’s on you then. I’m just posting the straight ones here.
These are all based on true events, with some photoshop applied. I’m not posting them in any order, just as I finish them. Thank you.
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I am 20. This new city is amazing. I am at absolute ground level, waiting tables, but I don’t care. I’m going to be a famous singer, you’ll see.
I land some roadie work for a function band. The gig is setting up speakers and plugging everything in, then packing it all into a trailer afterwards. It’s heavy physical work, but I am now in the orbit of people who have industry connections, so I’m one step closer to the dream. I told you, I’m going to be famous. Everyone will buy my albums and I’ll be rich and cool. I’ll have, like, six leather jackets, easily.
I stumble into having a girlfriend. I go to look up a friend who’s also relocated here, and find he’s moved out already. But his old roommate is tiny, and warm, and kind, and has absolutely massive tits. Her name is Imogen. I am instantly smitten.
We begin hanging out, at her place, and at mine. I’m broke but she doesn’t care; she’s studying art so it’s not like she has money either. We like a lot of the same bands. I sing her my shitty angst songs. She reads me her shitty angst poems. I set one of them to music. It’s fucking terrible. She loves it.
The attraction is mutual and electric. We’re lying on my threadbare duvet, draped over the lumpy mattress that was still here when I moved in. I’m the big spoon. She’s shaking ever so slightly.
I ask if I can kiss her. Very quietly she says, “I have to tell you something.”
I hold her a little tighter. She’s tiny in my arms, and I am keenly aware of the swelling breasts beneath my forearm. But I focus on her.
“I’m listening.”
She’s quiet for a while. Then, “I’m a virgin. I’m sorry. This probably won’t be very good, ok?”
I roll her over in my arms to face me, and stroke her cheek. Fuck, she is so cute. She has big, beautiful eyes, and a little button nose, and a mouth that’s just a bit too small, but in a quirky, kissable way.
I love her so goddamn much. I love her in that intense, painful way that you can only love someone when you are 20 years old and you have no fucking clue what love is.
She’s close to tears. She asks, “Do you still want to make out?”
Oh god, I really do.
“Imogen, beautiful girl, I don’t care that you’re a virgin. I’m not, but I don’t really know if I’m any good either. If you’re willing, I’d like to find out if we’re good together.”
She says, “oh,” and looks down, licking her lips.
I say, “We don’t need to rush anything. For real, Imogen, I do want to make love to you, but I think you’re so amazing, I want to wait until you’re ready. Let’s go slow. Let’s just lie here and hold each other, ok? You can tell me when, or if, you want to try something.”
I am of course lying. My cock is rock hard and I want nothing more than to tear the baggy tracksuit pants off her and plunge into her pussy, which if the way she’s undulating in my arms is any indicator, will be soaking wet. Oh please, please tell me to fuck you.
She bites her lip pensively. “What if I don’t really know what I want to do?”
“Ok well, how about we try kissing, and sort of … just take it from there? You cool with that?”
Imogen nods, and turns her face up to me, closing her eyes. We’re going full Mills & Boon here.
I lean down and kiss her. Her mouth is wet, and her lips are still trembling. She doesn’t know what to do with her tongue, and she pulls back, embarrassed.
“Hey.” I stroke her cheek again. “For a sec, don’t try and kiss me back. Just let me kiss you. You can join in later when you feel like it, ok?”
Imogen nods quickly, and closes her eyes again.
I take her face in my right hand and bring her mouth to mine. I kiss her slowly, deeply. The flame of the infatuation flares brightly and I feel like my heart will burst. God knows my dick feels that way too but I’m too young to know the difference. I can’t keep from grinding against her.
I love you so much, Imogen. Holy shit can I please see your tits? I don’t think I’ve ever seen bigger tits. Thank fuck I’m not saying this out loud.
She begins to moan into my mouth, and suddenly she is kissing me back, following my lead, but stroking her tongue against mine with matching sensuality. We are falling into each other and the rush is exhilarating. Her hands begin to wander over my torso.
I take this as a green light to go for the boobs.
Oh shit, they’re so soft, and yet somehow firm. I squeeze them with all of the gentle skill of a panel beater, but she’s into it. She moans her consent.
Future me knows many sensual caresses, and takes time undressing his lovers and feasting upon them. Current me shoves my hand under her fleece, lifts her substantial underwired bra, and squeezes her coin-sized left nipple.
She gasps into my mouth. Her eyes flick open and she stares into mine with what feels like urgency. Her brow furrows and she says, “yes,” which she immediately swallows in a hissing intake. I am making her feel good. Fuck yes. Also her tits are amazing, I can’t believe I have my hands on them holy shit.
My eyes are still locked with hers, and I see that she has the same stupid romantic feelings for me that I have for her. I’m so happy. I want to fuck her so badly.
I let my hand slip down her lovely round hip, and gently make my way towards her pussy. She catches my wrist and grips it like a vice.
“Not this time, ok?”
She’s vulnerable. She’s feeling things she’s not used to feeling and she wants to be sure that this is safe, that it’s real. Maybe she’s testing that I’ll really stop if she asks me to.
God fucking dammit. I was so close.
“Totally ok, my sweet.”
It is a lie. I am going to die of terminal horniness.
She sighs into my chest.
—————————————————————————
Another day, we are in bed together at her place. We have still not fucked, but we have progressed to making out naked. It is exquisite torture.
I believe I care so much about her that I want her discovery to be joyous. I know from books that if I take my time I’ll be rewarded. I’m really trying to be a good boyfriend. I want this to be wholesome. And I’d really like to fuck her now.
**I let her explore my cock. She squeezes it awkwardly at first, unsure of what to do.** She is fascinated by my balls. I jerk off for her, showing her what I like. I ask her to do the same, but she shyly says she doesn’t masturbate. This is weird to me.
But today I am determined to eat her pussy. I can think of no better way of bringing her round to my way of thinking than to make her come, and if I have learned anything about sex with women, it is that eating pussy is the best way to achieve this.
Selfishly, I also love doing it. She hasn’t let me anywhere near her pussy yet, but she has a neat landing strip, and when she undressed I glimpsed labia that protrude in a way that inflames me. This is not an airbrushed pussy. This is a real pussy. The difference is breathtaking.
Future me knows that all women are different, and that part of the joy of going down on someone is in exploring, in finding out what makes them catch their breath, and in using that to build them towards a climax. Current me knows more or less where the clit is and how to flick my tongue against it repeatedly. It is a crude strategy that by sheer luck has served me well so far.
Her tits are glorious, and I spend far too long inexpertly sucking on her substantial nipples, my fingers stroking gently up her sides, producing gooseflesh. She strokes my hair and says, “yes, baby”.
Her arousal is building. I begin to lick my way down her adorable pot belly, producing giggles and sighs. Please let me.
I can smell her now, and it is a drug I cannot get enough of. I begin to breathe on her mound. Her stroking of my hair becomes a gentle grip. “Stop.”
I lever myself up on my elbows.
“You OK my love?”
She nods. She’s embarrassed.
“I don’t mean to pressure you, but can I ask why?”
She thinks for a while. This is hard for her.
“I’m worried my pussy is revolting. I’m scared you’ll be grossed out and you’ll want to stop, and then this will be over.”
She has risked a lot by telling me this. Her eyes are wary, waiting for my response.
“My sweet, don’t you think it’s for me to decide what I think is attractive? Would it be OK if I feel how I feel before you decide I’m revolted by you? Because we’ve come this far and I’m still crazy about you. Imogen, the truth is I fantasise about eating you out all the time. It’s killing me. Please let me go down on you. I promise I’ll stop if I don’t like it, or if you ask me to.”
I am speaking directly from my rampant hormones.
“You’ll stop if it’s gross?’
“I’ll stop if it’s gross.” It won’t be. The aroma of her wet vulva is calling to me inexorably.
I part her legs, my hands splaying her open. Her lips are like wings, and wetness is literally dripping from her. She wants this as much as I do.
I lean in til my face is almost touching her, and breathe in her scent. It is the horniest thing I have ever smelt.
I lick her, then, with the flat of my tongue, starting just below her opening, and dragging slowly up to her clit.
“Fuck. Oh. My god!”
She follows this with an intake of breath that sounds like a sob.
My tongue is coated in so much of her slick wetness that I have to swallow. It is salty and delicious, made even sexier by the keen awareness of where it comes from. I begin making out with her pussy as though it is her mouth.
“Holy fuck, what are you doing to me?”
I put my whole mouth over her and suck like I am trying to capture the juice of a peach I have just bitten. Then I zero in on her clit, and deploy my trusted flickering tongue technique.
Future me never leads with something this vigorous. Current me knows no other way.
But the Goddess Aphrodite is smiling on me, and against highly improbable odds, a flickering tongue is exactly what Imogen needs.
She says, “oohhhhhhhhhhh.” There is a quaver in her voice. I am a sex god. Thank you GQ and Cosmo.
I focus on maintaining the rhythm of my tongue. Magazines have taught me that once you begin to eat pussy with commitment, you should not vary your pace or speed, or you will throw off the woman’s climb to orgasm. I have begun with my tongue on “Blender” setting. It must remain there, or fall off.
I feel her thighs begin to tremble, and I slip a single finger inside her, eliciting a whine. She is so wet that there is no resistance of any kind, so I switch up to two, and then kind of synchronise a slow in out motion to the frantic rhythm of my tongue.
Future me knows what a gspot is. Current me has been told girls like being fingered.
Her orgasm arrives like thunder. It is the product of my unrelenting tongue flickering, and is not so much coaxed out of her as pulled kicking and screaming. But it’s here now, and it’s a big one. The sounds she is making are not strictly human.
I am thrilled and overjoyed. This is unbelievably sexy. I love this woman so much, my heart or cock might explode, and I just rocked her world. Surely she’ll let me fuck her now.
She’s incoherent. “You … you … what? I can’t …”
I climb back up her magnificent body (lord these tits are huge) and kiss her face, then take her into my arms and hold her until her breathing slows. She curls into me, snuggling into my chest hair.
She tells me she loves me. It is the greatest thing I have ever heard.
Then she makes me wipe the pussy juice off my face before she’ll kiss me. I use my tshirt.
We do eventually fuck, though not that day. It is as predictably soap-opera-romantic as you can imagine, with two young people so desperately in love with each other. It is also confusingly anticlimactic as neither of us can come. The event has been built up to the point where reality is only, well, average. It gets better, though.
Imogen and I last about six months, and then it peters out surprisingly amicably for two people who apparently felt so intensely about each other at one point. I think she wanted to lose her virginity, but she needed it to be special somehow, and, there I was. There aren’t any hard feelings.
For the next year, she drops by now and then to get high and fuck, until she has a confusing lesbian experience with someone who is clearly a more seasoned pussy eater, and begins waxing her hair into dreadlocks. We don’t stay in touch.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/thuqbz/mf_in_which_i_fall_in_stupid_love_with_my_old
Good story, albeit with a Dr..Manhattan vibe.