I hope you guys enjoy this story. Yes, it really is true.
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This is the story of the best sexual experience in my life. I was twenty when I met Johan, and I still think of him with fondness. It's been a long time, so I may not have all of the details correctly, but it is a true story. This does not mean, by the way, I have not had any good sex since! I have had some very good sex since then, but many factors combined together caused my experience with Johan to stand out in my mind as the best yet. I was still just blossoming into my burgeoning sexuality, I was young and naïve, he was wonderful, and all of it was new to me.
I was home from college for the summer, and out of desperation to get the car for a few hours I had signed up for classes at the local community college. My parents didn't let me go anywhere unless I had what they considered a valid reason, so I signed up for classes every summer just to get away. All of my friends and aunties and uncles thought I was such a studious little bug, when in reality I just wanted a little freedom.
So four days a week I would drop my mom off at 7:30 am at her workplace, and then go off to class from 8:30 am to 10:30 am. Then I would have the car for a few hours, and be able to go to the library, or visit friends, really, whatever, rather than being cooped up at home. At 5 pm I would pick her up again, drop her off at home, and then go to my evening class.
The evening class was from 6 pm to 7:30 pm, but I had told my parents I stayed afterwards to do some studying with my classmates. In reality it wasn't too different -- I stayed with my friends and hung out with them instead of studying, but usually near the college. I was never a bad kid, which made their restrictions all the more chafing.
I was taking Advanced Placement Biology, as I recall, and it was an excellent class, with a great teacher, and a lot of fascinating course study. There were lots of nice people, a lot of older students, which made for a very serious class. One of the people my age was Johan, whose interest in me was clear, right from the beginning.
I had only had one boyfriend to this point. I was a relatively late bloomer, and had only begun having sex the previous September. My boyfriend had also been very new to the whole thing. I found myself very aware of men, in every way, and had become very curious about my budding sexuality. I had been raised by extremely strict, religious parents, and taught to find my own sexuality abnormal and to find normal sexual relations abhorrent. (Yes, parents still raise kids like this these days.) So the things I was feeling were good but made me feel guilty, too.
Johan practically reeked of sex. He was a nice, sweet guy, but there was something about the way he moved his body that set flames in my body. I didn't know how to term it back then, but these days I would say there were sparks between us and real chemistry.
When Johan first approached me, I told him I had a boyfriend. He very kindly backed off immediately, leaving me even more interested in him, even though I was dreadfully shy and even embarrassed that I found him so attractive.
So some days went by. I started hanging out with Johan, as he was completely non-pressuring and very nice. We went out for dinner once or twice, but a lot of times we would simply drive somewhere, or sit and talk. This went on for a little while, until the sexual tension between us was palpable. One day we came back from a drive somewhere, and we were sitting in the college parking lot, in the evening. I recall it was somewhere past 8 pm, and I didn't have to leave for home until 9:30 or 10 pm.
The pent-up feelings between us had grown to the point where even talking was awkward, and as I sat there I felt my breath coming short. My skin had been well tanned by the summer sun and was now a rich coppery brown. My hair was curly and shorter then than I wear it now, so I had it loose, falling around my shoulders and in front of my large, dark brown eyes. I had dressed very carefully, as I did almost every day, without admitting to myself that I was dressing for him, to look attractive to him. If I recall correctly, I was wearing khaki colored jeans (I almost never wore blue jeans back then), not tight but snug against my hips and ass, and a loose short-sleeved black blouse, that had a deep V-cut in the front, and sandals on my feet, as I always wear.
Anyway, that day, while we sat in the car together, the silences grew longer and longer until all I could think about was touching him. He wore a loose fitting tee shirt with blue jeans that fit tight against his body. I had never looked down at a man's cock while he was wearing jeans before, but I found myself wondering if he was hard, if I looked down, would I even see it? The car was in park and turned off, and both of our seatbelts were unbuckled. The sun was setting in the evening sky.
Finally he interrupted my reverie by saying to me, "What are you thinking?" Without even realizing what I was about to say, I opened my mouth and said, "I'm thinking I would really like to kiss you." I blushed scarlet, and looked at him, embarrassed, but all he said was, "I would love to be kissed by you."
I still shiver when I think of the soft voice he said those words in, and his dark, dark eyes, slightly amused, watching me. I leaned across the gearshift and let my lips meet his.
I'd never been kissed quite like this, that was for certain. Johan kissed tenderly and sweetly, his soft mouth meeting mine, his tongue gently brushing against my teeth. I didn't hesitate even another second. Briefly breaking the kiss, I put my hands on his shoulders and, turning around fully as I moved, I seated myself in his lap. My back was now against the driver's side door, and I tucked my legs up across the passenger seat, my sandals dropping unheeded to the floor.
