Blame 1

Blame

I stood at the upstairs bedroom window and looked out at my husband, Richard, washing the car in the driveway. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing cutoff jeans, and a baseball style cap. His firm, evenly tanned body evident as he moved the sudsy wash cloth over the hood of the car. I let out a slow breath, he was doing it to me again. He was definitely to blame.

Liz, our young, attractive, next door neighbor, stood watching him from her own driveway. Richard wasn't paying her any heed as he had his back to her. I'd been watching him for a few minutes and well... I don't know if you can lust after your husband or not, but I was. The tingly feeling within my patch had been growing over the past hour and watching him had fanned the embers to glowing hot. I wondered if Liz was having the same thoughts. I couldn't blame her if she were.

If there was anyone to blame for my horny state, it was Richard. Oh, I guess it fit the situation at the moment, but that hadn't always been the case. Having been raised in a strict Christian family I sought refuge in masturbation to satisfy my carnal needs all through high school. While other girls were quietly talking about their first sexual experiences with a boyfriend, I stood, or sat silent thinking they were sinning and would go to hell.

All through high school my lust had been real for several guys, including Richard. I didn't understand what pent up sexual desire was at the time. That would come later as a freshman in college. A college Richard and I had both decided to attend during our senior year. It wasn't intentional on either one of our parts, but I liked the idea anyway.

In high school, I was as interested in guys as any other girl. But, my parents kept me on a short leash and I dated but once in a while. Richard and I were friends all through high school, and I took comfort in the relationship.

He didn't share the same religion as me, so it was easier to maintain that kind of relationship with him. At least my parents felt comfortable about it for some reason. If Richard had had any idea as to how my fantasies came to revolve around him he would have been embarrassed. Well... perhaps at first. I guess he never noticed how I looked at him with longing as we walked, or played catch.

Now, you're probably thinking at this point Richard was the instrument of my loss of virginity. How much I wished it were true. The blame for that went to a guy I hardly knew named, Roy, after several drinks at a college party. He was handsome as hell. I guessed after that night, we would meet each other there in the future. But, if nothing else, he had been experienced in what I wasn't. We'd kissed and cuddled, rubbed, and kissed, and before I knew it, I was undressed. His smile and soft eyes convinced me this was the right time and place. More importantly, he seemed to be the right man.

I don't remember being embarrassed standing nude in front of Roy. I do remember the warm glow that permeated my body, my lust unmasked as he donned a condom. It wasn't like any of my fantasies as he lay me down for the first time in my life. I reached down to grasp his cock and I remembered the sensation of warm firmness, of girth, and length as it filled my hand. In the dim light of the room, I really didn't get a mental image of what it was until then. Plastic models didn't compare with what I was experiencing with something so long and pliable.

Then, as if by magic, I felt a sensation, a surge of pleasure between my legs as Roy entered me. I took a deep breath and he asked if I were alright. What could I say? I'd never had a penis shoved into me before. I replied I was, and lay like a rag doll as he began to pump. It felt good after a minute as he hitched up onto me, his weight pushing me down into the mattress. I don't know how long it took, ten minutes, twenty? It didn't matter, it felt good enough.

I hadn't experienced the explosions and stars my friends had suggested they'd experienced while having sex. I learned later, I hadn't had an orgasm with any of the men I'd been with. That realization came to me after a torrid session that left me drained, but very happy. My first orgasm was something I could happily blame on Richard.

I'd watched as Roy kneeled between my legs, his penis somewhat firm and wet as he left me, and I felt a surge of guilt. I'd been screwed and it had been pleasurable, sinfully pleasurable. I never saw Roy again to talk to, because whenever I saw him, I walked in the other direction. I blamed him for having introduced me to something I very much wanted again. Sex was something I wasn't supposed to experience until after I was married. But, I did want it again and each time I felt horny afterward, knew there was a means to satisfy my desire without using my own hand. The problem was, I realized one option was much preferred than the other. I knew that now, and I wasn't to blame.

Before my freshman year was up, I'd gained experience with two boyfriends. It was a wildly exciting time since both had different tastes in positions and energy levels. With Ben, I was introduced to doggy style after a lot of hesitation on my part. It didn't seem natural until after the first time I'd gone through with it. We had rented a motel room and when I saw our reflection in the mirror, I found myself fascinated as I watched and felt it at the same time. He let me set the pace and depth as he stood behind me and by God, I found my hotspot and enjoyed it immensely. It didn't feel the same as from missionary where my clit was stimulated, but it was damned pleasurable. That was something I elected not to place blame on.

Ted, was another matter and we didn't last long. He was forceful and energetic. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't as gentle was I was used to. At first, I liked the idea I was so desirable he took me like an animal. Even in doggy, he slammed me balls deep until my legs gave way and I fell onto the bed. Even that didn't stop him, as he would climb onto me, his long cock doing me as I lay face down, my legs spread wide. It felt good, but when he wouldn't change positions when I needed, I gave up on him. My pleasure mattered too.

Yeah, those were wild days. I was dating both of Ben and Ted at the same time and getting all the attention I wanted. I wasn't big breasted and I'd always felt dissatisfied with my overall appearance. I'd thought men always preferred girls with big boobs. None of the men I'd been with seemed to care that much since they kissed them and fondled what I had without complaint. It did change my attitude regarding my endowment, and I blamed myself for thinking that I wasn't good enough.

By the end of my freshman year, I'd been screwed in so many different ways and so often, I wondered how I got good grades when combined with my partying life style. True, I was mostly pleased with myself, men can give you an ego boost when you have a poor self-image. So, I'd gotten a real education, just not a Christian one.

I left to go home for the summer and had a job lined up as a waitress where I'd worked before. I made good money in tips and I'd learned dressing a little provocatively resulted in larger tips. A smile, a bit of cleavage, and plenty of leg gave a pretty good return on investment without looking cheap.

I hated attending church service now. I did anyway, so as to not annoy my parents. After a few weeks, I began to fantasize and found Richard on my mind more often than not. I'd gotten a phone call from him after I got home, and he'd suggested we get together. We hadn't set a day or time, and a few days later knew I had to do it. I wanted male companionship in some form, though I wasn't looking for a sexual encounter, particularly with Richard.

His friends at college had started calling him 'Dick' and I found I couldn't. I saw 'dick' as being something different and Richard's dick wasn't something I wanted to think about. We were friends and I didn't want to blame Richard for the association I was making in my mind. How many slang terms were there for a penis I'd asked myself: dick, peter, cock, wang, and the amusing one-eyed snake. I could hardly blame Richard for my curious foray into vulgar terms associated with male anatomy.

I was working the lunch crowd at the restaurant when I noticed, Bill, from my graduating class, walk in. He was one of the jocks, a very popular one. He was reputed to be well-hung based upon comments I'd heard, a quick glance suggested he was. I'd never been interested in that before, but I'd matured in that respect. He saw me and gave me a broad smile.

"Hey, Alice. You are lookin' good."

I'd smiled. "You're not looking bad yourself."

We'd talked for a while and by the time we had finished we'd made plans to meet that night. That was the night I made the discovery I could blame my curiosity for something. We went to his apartment and I had a glass of wine, which I couldn't believe he liked, or had on hand. I felt loose and warm, and after we started kissing, I had to find out, my curiosity raging. I placed my hand into his crotch and felt a monster grow as I rubbed outside his pants. He asked if I were interested, and I said yes. I knew how much he desired me, it had turned me on even more as we wrapped around one another. I was rubbing my crotch against him we kissed hungrily, then my clothing left me, his hand massaging my patch at the end.33

That was when I found out the first few inches of my vagina and the tip of a penis encourage all that follows. I lay back and watched as he lay his broad tip on my abdomen as he positioned himself. He must have known from experience, as he placed a small amount of lubricant on the tip. He proceeded to rub across my opening, hitting my clit in the process. The stimulation coursed through me in flashes of pleasure. I opened my legs wider as his tip disappeared inside. I felt a huge pulse of pleasure. He pulled out and pushed in again, then again, each time going a little farther inside. Each time, a pulse of pleasure followed. It was the promise of what was to come that was foremost in my mind, the suggestion that when he was in deeper it would be even better.

We'd had sex twice that evening and I while it was good, it wasn't great. I'd had better with a smaller member. But, it was good enough and I was satisfied. We ended the night with a kiss and I knew I would never be with him again. Once was enough, my curiosity about size now in perspective. There was no blame this time. I had wanted to know and he had wanted tight pussy. I had one, he had the other. I'd like to say I didn't feel guilty, but I did. It seemed as if my quest for an honest to goodness orgasm was yet to be realized. I'd certainly felt as fully stretched as I'd ever been.

That big cock made me wonder for the first time, if I were able to have an orgasm. Maybe I was one of those women who couldn't. Where would I lay the blame if that was the case? I looked up information online and it didn't seem to help much. Maybe it was the way I was wired, though I certainly found sex pleasurable regardless of partner and position. It was worth doing and I didn't mind hearing my partner grunt and groan when his pleasure came.

I'd laughed to myself that night after I got into my own bed. Why had God made sex so enjoyable? Why had God made me as horny as hell years before society allowed me to marry? I decided that if you didn't get something good out of making a baby what other incentive was there. Why wait so long to have sex and fight the urge if the church said you shouldn't? It seemed so contrived, so idiotic, to ignore the fact you were capable and yet you were told not to indulge. Who do you blame for that kind of nonsense?

I'd been ready for sex for years before I was married at twenty-two. It felt damned good even without achieving an orgasm of the magnitude other girls said it provided them. I surely couldn't blame women who got more out of sex than what I'd experienced. I wondered, if there was a devil, if sex was as good for him as it was for those he tempted. I'd laughed at the thought it would be great if he didn't.

It was several days later when Richard and I decided to take in a movie together. It was a nice evening and I enjoyed our conversation, catching up on how our summer jobs were going, and what we were doing to entertain ourselves. I didn't mention having sex a few days before, obviously. Richard said he'd taken Linda Smith out to dinner and they had a good visit.

Linda was someone I knew well from high school and she had never been shy around guys. She never came right out and said it, but she didn't deny she was getting laid. She never gave names, and I respected that about her. Now, I wondered if she had been as generous with Richard. I'd felt a little off-put when Richard told me they had gone out. It was like I cared for some reason. Maybe he was someone else's fantasy man too.

As we sat talking, I wondered what it was about him that made him different from the guys I'd gone to bed with. Richard was well above average in looks, he spoke his mind, and we argued from time to time, but it had never disrupted our relationship for long. We always came back together after we cooled down. He could be a bit moody, but then, so was I.

Richard and I continued to spend time with one another all summer long. We never considered our time together as dates. I guess because we dated others. But, as hard as it was, I refrained from having sex when the opportunity presented itself with anyone else after Bill. I didn't need anything getting back to my parents and I was living under their roof. In our small town word spread all too easily.

***

When I got back to campus at the end of the summer, I had a pent up demand, but this time I decided to be more selective. Or, at least, I thought I was being more selective. I went to the bar one night with a girlfriend and we met a guy we both knew from class. He was okay, in my view, wonderful from hers. I was thrilled when he picked me to dance with. After an hour, he suggested we go back to his place and get it on. I took that to mean have sex and I was all for it. Those last few slow dances had gotten me hot and tight as we rubbed against one another.

It didn't take but a few minutes after we got into his apartment for us to get down to it. We had undressed each other down to our underwear between hot passionate kisses. I knew I was ready as the crotch of my panties were damp. I reached for his member, my breathing heavy, and found it firm, not hard, but good enough to do the job. I fell back onto the bed and when he joined me it seemed as if something had changed. He had changed. The expression on his face was as if a mask had been placed on it. His smile was gone, as was the softness in his eyes. His words chilled me.

"Okay, you horny little bitch. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."

At first, I thought he was trying to play the hard-assed man, and use rough language to turn me on. But, when he grabbed me roughly and forced my legs open before I was ready I grew concerned. I felt it was time to slow things down.

"Come on, I'm ready, but you need to put a condom on before we go any further."

He looked at me with a wicked grin and said in a low voice. "I don't use condoms. You get every inch without one."

I swallowed hard, there wasn't any place for me to go with him kneeling between my legs. My mind was working furiously to find words as fear and helplessness filled me.

"No condom. No sex. Get away from me until you get one on," I said firmly.

He looked at me scornfully. "I don't have any. You got me all worked up and now you want to play games. I don't play games."

"I'm not playing games. You want to fuck me, fine. I have condoms in my purse you can use."

He hesitated long enough that I wasn't sure what he was going to do. Finally, he moved from between my legs, and I moved off the bed. I was walking to my purse when he spoke.

"How about you suck me off? Then I'll slip it to you."

I turned already knowing the answer wouldn't please him. "I don't suck cock. Use a condom, or I'm going home. Your choice."

He got out of bed and took three steps to reach me. He grabbed hold of my hair and yanked my face in front of his. His alcohol laced breath was more than evident. I was frightened now, really frightened.

"Ow! That hurts, let go of me."

He released my hair and stood staring at me. "Get the goddamned condom out."

I tried to calm things down. "I can put it on you."

He grinned. "Now, I can live with that."

He moved to the bed and sat down on the edge. I took a calming breath, thinking maybe this was going to work. I wasn't in the mood now, but he wasn't going to take no for an answer. I blamed myself for having put myself in this situation. I took the condom out of the wrapper and knelt in front of him. I focused on his penis and was about to reach up to place the condom on the tip when his hand came behind my head and forced my face forward. I tried to pull my head back and couldn't.

"Start sucking, bitch," he snarled.

I don't know exactly what happened within those first few seconds. Maybe I panicked, maybe I'd made up my mind I was getting the hell out of there. I don't know. All I remember was the sensation of his warm cock entering my mouth, my teeth coming down hard, his jerking away in pain.

I stood up at the same he did and kicked him hard between the legs with my knee. He stumbled back and fell onto the bed groaning. I pulled on my shorts and blouse, gathered my purse, panties, bra, and sandals, and with trembling hands unlocked the door, and ran outside. I hid behind some shrubs shaking while I buttoned my blouse and slipped my sandals on. He hadn't emerged from his apartment, and I hurried toward my dorm shaking like a leaf in the wind.

My roommate was gone and I locked the door behind me, undressed, and walked into the shower. The events of the evening played in my mind again. I wanted to wash the stink off. I wanted the memory of him to leave me, and never return. I wanted to blame someone other than myself for my need for sexual gratification - or what many would call my lustful, sinful act.

After drying off, I lay staring up at the ceiling, confused at what it meant to be a woman. Who could I blame for my sex? No, one. It was selected at a point in my development and no one knows how the DNA threw the switch to make the fetus male or a female. I was female and had wanted the pleasure that came with being female to be realized. Now, the cost seemed too high. There was a fine line between being a partner during sex and a victim of a man's overpowering lust that surpassed my own. Should I accept it as that? Or, was that giving too much away for something not entirely instinctual? I'd said 'no' conditioned upon his willingness to accept compromise. He'd decided my negative response didn't carry as much weight as his 'yes.'

I sobbed again. One man had blown to bits the concept that women who sought their pleasure with a man was a cooperative affair. I'd never thought of it that way befoe, or that the understanding was so fragile. His words rang in my ears again, to be called a bitch, a whore, for wanting to provide him with the same pleasure I sought for myself was beyond my grasp.

According to what my religion said, men were to honor their wives as they did the Lord. Was that my sin? I wasn't married and because of that, I wasn't due respect? I sank deeper into the gloom of depression, fueled by guilt that I was the one to blame.

I'd hadn't slept well that night, and when Richard called me mid-morning two days later I was still a mess. I'd made up my mind I didn't want to talk to men and had remained sequestered in my room talking only to my roommate. But, it was Richard. I couldn't bring myself to answer and I let it go to voice mail. I didn't listen to it, nor the two other messages he'd left that day and another the next.