Hello, dear reader.
This is set, now, to be a recounting, homage, and tribute to all of the women who fucked the motivation into me over the years. Each blowjob, handjob, titjob, mirror pic, makeout, and creampie has eternally pushed me to be the best that I can be. You see, I’ve never been much of a motivated self-starter; I need the payoff, I need that promise at the end of the road.
I found that promise, years ago, and it came in the form of a woman. Well, not just one, I suppose. All of them.
Every single one of them thrilled me, capturing my imagination in a way that I never could wrestle away from. Everything about them drove me daily to the brink of desire. I don’t mind if that’s a bit predictable; it’s how things are for me, and it’s what’s given me the strength to push for the life I’m building for myself.
As I do hope to make this the first of a series commemorating my every thrill, we might as well start from the beginning. We’ll start with the first. We’ll start with J.
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I was a fresh faced Year 1 student at the kind of school that kids who don’t work all that hard end up at, taking History. A lame excuse for a department, but it was what I could get into. I cruised all through the first semester without busting anything resembling an effort. In reality, if we’re being honest with each other, I wasn’t in any danger of making it through that first term. That’s when J walked in.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The classes were Friday night, last time slot of the day and a few blocks from the nearest bar. Of course, this meant that the more industrious and efficient of us would wear our “going out” clothes to class. I was a bit of a recluse, so I had nothing to put on that would make any difference in the shit hole I was likely to go drinking at after class, but that’s just the way it was.
Not J though. No. She had somewhere to be, and she didn’t mind that it meant turning up to class wearing the shortest skirt I had, to that point, ever seen a woman wear in public, a see through top, and a matching set of the most adorable underwear you’d ever think to catch glimpses of in public. A small group of friends came in with her, but I can’t tell you a single thing about any one of them. No, this latin babe with her tan skin, warm smile on her glossed lips, and agonizingly pretty laugh was it for me. I was thrilled to note that she chose to sit across the aisle from me, only a few rows ahead.
And doubly so when she turned to smile at me.
And positively floored when she stopped me as I left at break to grab a coffee.
And genuinely dumbfounded when she pulled a pen from God only knows where to write her number on the back of my hand.
And shocked to the core of my being when, two nights later, she texted “fucking finally” when I mustered up the courage to text and ask if she wanted to grab a drink.
The drink went well. She told me that her friends had been pushing her for a while to make a move on me, which felt wild. As a younger man I was tall, somewhat lanky, and not overly well kept. The gym wasn’t ever my thing. Still, the skinny, quiet kid in the back of the room did something for her I guess, since it was a scant 10 minutes into that drink that I felt her hand on my thigh, squeezing softly while I fumbled around in my mind for what I could ever hope to say to keep the interest of genuinely the sexiest woman I had ever spent any time with. Thank god she was having none of those same issues. It was time to leave, she said, and I would be going back to hers.
The door wasn’t yet closed behind us before her tongue was dancing on mine, and I felt the switch flip inside me. My hands were on her, all of her, in moments. I pawed at the little tank top I had been working so hard to avoid starting down for the last two hours, wanting and needing it off her beautifully soft skin liked a damned man needs salvation. I swear, no word of a lie, she actually bared her teeth and growled softly as her shirt came over her head. My cock could not have throbbed any harder, nearly painfully in my jeans. She pulled me, as if in a dream or cheesy romance, down the hall to her room. I was instructed to sit on the bed and wait. Frustrated and desperate from the preceding moments, I struggled to imagine a natural position to lay in while reflecting on my own feverous need to suck the nipples of her perfect little B cups raw. Wondering what to do with my clothes, she turned the corner back into the room and my jaw dropped.
Keep in mind, as first years, we were only 18 or 19 years old. I never imagined where or when or why a woman her age would own such a stunning set of lingerie (keeping in mind, this was a time well before camming was so common). Silky black thigh high stockings rose to her mid thigh, leaving a 3 inch gap before the bottom of an impossibly sheer robe covered in embroidered roses. Underneath, a lime green matching set of underwear; a skimpy excuse of a thong and matching bra that crammed her perky little tits right up under her chin. She was, to put it mildly, fucking stunning. I’m sure I whimpered. She lingered with that ridiculously disarming smile only a moment before moving in, pushing me back and flawlessly undoing my fly and button without ever breaking eye contact. The giggle as my aching cock bounced up and slapped her in the chin made me weak.
I was, as I mentioned, exceptionally thin in those days. I made mention, too, of my height in some vague terms. In all, I have never found the very proportional cock that I was given to be wanting in any way, at a girthy eight and a quarter inches. If that sort of thing matters to you. I certainly didn’t think anything of it; most of the sex I’d had to that point was in dark rooms with inexperienced partners. All the cocks I’d seen were in porn, which made mine look average, at best, to my ignorant thinking. I’ve since learned that not to be the case, but refused to buy her shock and awe as genuine.
It was though, and she loved it. God did she fucking love it. Her lips made the most perfect pout and she closed her eyes and pressed her lips lovingly on the head of me. The glow of her bedside lamp reflecting off my precum as it hit her lipglass is something that I refuse to ever forget. She held the kiss firmly, eyes still closed, as she reached up and took a proper firm grasp of my shaft, still nearly unbearably hard in her hands. When she finally broke the kiss to pull back, her hot breath alone felt like the promise of heaven, which she promptly then pushed me straight into when she dove forward and popped my head right into her mouth. The next few minutes are blur of the most divine slurps and gulps I had ever heard; if I was desperate to have her then she was easily twice so for the cock I had brought to her. Her eyes never opened in those first few minutes, she had them screwed tight as she worked desperately to swallow what she could. I love how hard she worked at it, especially since I know it was only really partially for me; she sucked it like she had waited her whole life for it, like she had hedged her bets on it, like it was everything she needed and more. She gagged, softly at first, then again moments later, and again. I moved to lift her chin up, to signal that she didn’t need to choke herself on me, but my fingers under her chin were met with an aggressive grasp from her as she roughly handled it to the back of her head. I know what that was, hardly believing people like her actually wanted to be treated that way, but reason and caution both fled the scene in that moment and I worked swiftly up to an aggressive rhythm of filling her throat to its limits with the cock she was so determined to worship. I don’t know how long she kept it up, but I do recall the delicious feeling of her spit running down my balls and onto the sheet beneath me.
Finally she pulled up, gasping for air and using her forearm to wipe away the evidence of her love affair with my dick. All she could let out was a “wow” before she laughed so wonderfully that I had to join her. She asked where the fuck I had been hiding that thing, and I told her she was almost as good at hiding it as I was. Kneeling between my legs, reaching out to stroke my slick cock, she asked if I liked her outfit. I did. She told me where she got it. I hadn’t heard of the place, but was glad she found it. She never got to wear it. I was thrilled she chose to do so now. The idle chatter continued, with her flirting and flipping her hair as she told me about this and that toy or outfit she had in the closet, and that maybe she’d find a use for them now. It was ages before I was remotely aware that she was teasing me. So desperate was I to stare at her beautiful mouth and hear her words, I missed the fact entirely that she was rubbing herself through her panties while she lazily stroked my thoroughly lubricated cock wetly. She watched my eyes linger on her hand as she rubbed, biting her lip happily.
I had been the passive party too long here. I needed to give her anything close to what she had given me. I cut off whatever she was winding up to say, and told her, in no uncertain tones, that I wanted to taste her. I don’t get the feeling that was something that she had had much of previously, but was clearly something she enjoyed.
We hastily scrambled to swap positions, and she denied me the pleasure of getting her naked myself, as she nearly tore her cute set right off of herself and lay back in front of me with a preparatory sigh of anticipation. She even groped her own tits before I ever got a chance to do it myself, moving her hands up from her hips along her own body and squeezing her freshly bared chest herself. The nipples were perfect, small, and brown, but I barely noticed.
Her pussy was shaved to perfection, so smooth you’d almost doubt any stubble could ever have grown there. The softest lips I had ever licked waited there for me, and I pressed my mouth hungrily to her, licking eagerly from top to bottom. I’d later find that she had, indeed, not had much occasion to enjoy being eaten out before, but she gasped and moaned and wiggled like someone who had found her calling in life as a pillow princess. I ate for what felt like hours, drawing circles around her budding clit until I was sure my tongue would cramp, and pushing my face into her to use the flat of my tongue for so long that I began to run breathless. I had never wanted to make someone feel like I wanted to make her feel in that moment. I was so touched to be the one she had chosen, and so ecstatic to be there between her legs that it was the only thing I could think about. My cock twitched endlessly beneath me as I took genuine physical pleasure from bringing her to orgasm. easily, several times. After the 6th or 7th time her body wracked itself with those gratifying shudders, she cooed softly for me to slow down; she was sensitive. I kissed her thighs and held her hips while she slumped all the way back onto her pillow and worked to slow her breathing. I was a leaky mess, and recall being quite self conscious of what I’d be leaving on her sheets when I left.
That was amazing, she said. She thanked me, laughing. Thinking of nothing more important, I told her, truthfully, that she had the most addictive taste. She covered her face, laughing. She thanked me again, despite not needing to be doing so far any reason I could think of; it was what she had deserved. I couldn’t tell why, not really knowing anything about her, but I knew she did deserve it, and that it would be on me to provide for as long as she’d let me. No no, she said, the thanks were for making her cum, said in a way that made it clear that tonight was her turn only. Without an ounce of reservation I said that I knew it already, and that I had no problem with that. She did have class early tomorrow though, and her roommates would be home shortly. She was so tender in kicking me out, that I almost didn’t mind. That didn’t make it any easier to zip myself, still hard, into the jeans I had worn, just as her reclined nudity and contented stares didn’t make it any easier to stomach the though of a moment not spent making her feel good.
Still, she kissed me affectionately, first on the lips, then more intimately on the cheek, and I made my way off into the night, to return to my own dorm. All I could think of was how I would continue to capture her interest, and do right by her. What did I have that could ever hope to be worth her. After jerking my overdue load all over my own chest and stomach in my room, it came to me. I’d work my ass off, from that day on, to be the man worth trusting her orgasms to.
Just as soon as I found a towel.
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Thanks for reading. This, and the coming stories I hope to share are true, and are the only way I can think to keep enjoying the memories of the women who continue to motivate me in life. Reach out and say hi if you care to, it would be cool to know someone enjoyed this. We’ll be back next time with more of her and I, and on into the future and the other experiences I’ve had.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/xra7f3/the_nights_that_made_me_part_1_mf