Paul and Paula - Her Story 01

This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the author's express authorization is strictly prohibited.

It is the story of Paula and spans close to twelve years in Paula's life. 1983 to 2005. And the story is a prequel. Read to the end to see more information where the story continues by the original author.

I want to thank my editor Legio_Patria_Nostra for taking the time to review my work.

My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are a shitshow, like life.

One more thing, you are on an erotica site reading smut. The last thing we need to hear is your morals and judgementalism. What are you doing here reading smut then trashing the writers, and characters on moral grounds? How "moral" is that?

I moderate comments. Make any derogatory or violent comments, lie about the story content to influence readers, or give me a lecture on morality, and your comment is gone.

So without further ado, "Paul and Paula: Her Story" by Kalimaxos.

***

Götterdämmerung -- a collapse (as of a society or regime) marked by catastrophic violence and disorder -- downfall.

Fun with my first

Jacksonville, FL 1997

"Oh God, that feels good... yeah... just like that...."

Hm, how that man knew how to eat pussy! He wasn't big on the dick department, barely six inches, if that, but his tongue was priceless. Not only could he touch his nose with it (try it -- most people can't), but the places he put it! Oh my God, I can't begin to describe the sensations of a long tongue licking my clit, in my cootch, or... yes, up my ass.

Brandon was special to me as he was my first. Not the one to take my virginity. Heaven's no! I gave that up to my neighbor soon after hearing his wife brag about him to my mom. And yes, mister-big-dick-neighbor did not disappoint. My first time was quite memorable. But like most guys with big dicks, he was a one-trick pony. Stick it in, fuck hard, make the woman cum and drop a load in her.

Now don't get me wrong. I love that kind of treatment from a big dicked man. It's what they are there for. But as most experienced girls will attest, when we want our pussy licked, it won't be with Mr. Big. Usually.

True, I have run across a couple of Mr. Bigs with oral skills, a precious few sadly, as most of them are orally challenged. But they have their place when I want to be fucked deep and hard. But not always. Surprised at my take, are you? No sweetheart. Don't be.

You see, I am not like your typical trope porn story woman that has no place in her life for less endowed men. Some of them, like Brandon here, are exceptionally skilled and very enthusiastic to please. Why may you ask? Simple, because they want to.

Maybe it's the knowledge that their cocks don't ring a girl's bell as much as we like. Or that they have to be good at something for us women to go back to them. But some, like Brandon, just downright love eating pussy, sucking clit, and making a woman cum over and over.

And trust me. As I sit here with my legs spread, letting Brandon's tongue play me like a Stratovarius, I appreciate his skill and enthusiasm more than I can describe. You see, while a big dick guy can give me multiple vaginal Os, Brandon can lick my clit and slit in ways most men can't. He works me, edges me, and keeps me on the precipice of the orgasmic cliff before gracing me with a cum of epic proportions.

"Oh... like that... oh don't tease me... please Brandon... aahhh!"

The orgasm he let me reach is spectacular. My entire body flailed, tensed, writhed as the spasms of pleasure washed over first my groin and then the rest of me. I not only felt it in my nethers, but my brain seemed on fire as I reached my orgasmic release. My clitoral orgasms are so powerful that I usually fall back on the bed spent.

"Give me a minute," I gasped.

Oh, the bastard smirked, so smugly. He knew. He knew what I liked and how I wanted it. After almost two years, Brandon certainly has had plenty of time to learn my needs and maximize his capabilities to suit my appetites.

"Come here, you little fucker," I said to him. "I need you in me."

No. Brandon's cock is not giant or fire hydrant wide. But then my pussy does not care, considering that fantastic cum Brandon had just given me. All my "girlfriend" needs is man-flesh, what with the state of arousal Brandon has brought "her" to. I was so impressed by his giving nature that I had given up caring about his size long ago. In that instant, he was a man with a cock, and I, the woman with the hot pussy to provide for him. One he deserved.

"Ahhh... yes," I sighed as he entered me in one easy stroke.

Brandon not only knew me by this point, what I like, want, and what sets me off, but also his limitations and how to overcome them. It's another thing I adore about him. Brandon does not let anything stop him from attaining his goals. Not professionally, personally, and certainly not sexually.

Kneeling between my wide-spread legs, he pushed them up toward my breasts, forcing my pelvis up. His position gave his modestly sized cock the leverage to rub its head on my g-spot just right. Over and over... he slowly stroked my sensitive inside spot until I could no longer bear it.

"Oh yes, fuck me damn you," I gasped as the first of many intense vaginal orgasms overtook me.

I lost track of how many times I came as Brandon teased and fucked me holding his climax back, not saying a word during the next half hour.

By this point, my pussy is a wet mess from all my orgasms. Brandon is practically swimming in me. And as I look up at this wonderful man, friend, business mentor/partner, and lover, I want him to experience what I know he craves and needs.

"Go on, Brandon," I gasp, staring into his intense eyes. "Fuck my ass."

There was a look of satisfaction and, yes, accomplishment in his gaze as he took his prick out of my soaking wet cunt. He knew he had pleased me, gotten me off repeatedly. There is no denying it if I even wanted to, which I didn't. I understood how he felt in that instant. Because I have that sense of satisfaction myself when I know I have pleasured a man who desires me.

His fingers probed my slit to collect secretions he thought were needed to ready my rear for entry. Inserting one finger then another, he teased and cajoled my sphincter, gently but firmly befriending it, coaxing it to open for him. But as I looked at his wet cock, I knew he could just shove it in me as it was, and stopped him.

"I'm ready for you," I told him.

We have done this many times before. You see, Brandon has taught me a trick that I have used for anal sex for some time. My back hole is now experienced enough in taking cock that Brandon's modest one would have required minimal effort to enter.

"Just shove it in."

All I had to do was let him place his tip in my grommet and then strain back at him as if evacuating my bowels. Trust me. The technique works to open a woman or man's sphincter to allow the cock to enter her. Once I had learned how I had used the knowledge to let other men in my rear. Men even more endowed than Brandon. But with modest-sized men, entry seemed almost effortless.

"Oh yes!" I gasped as I felt his tip enter me.

Just as I thought, the lubrication from our fucking had been enough to allow him entry without much discomfort. Brandon did not know or needed to know that I had not used what he taught me for him to enter my back hole. In fact, I had willfully enjoyed the roughness of his cock invading my ass and reaching in as far as he could.

"Go on," I hissed at him. "Fuck my ass... do it hard."

And after all this man had done for me, it was time for his reward. My body is very limber. I am slim and have remained so even after two children. This time, I wanted him closer to me.

"Come to me," I beckoned as he fell between my legs to bring his lips close to mine.

We kissed as his cock violated my rear over and over. It is hard for me to explain or to make some believe that I received more pleasure from a modest-sized cock at times. I had taken longer men in my rear before, men with similar girth as Brandon with equal ease and enjoyment. But men with girthier cocks were a challenge. One that I had learned to conquer with coaxing and plenty of lubrication. But the effort I had to place in caution and preparation often took the fun out of the act.

Yeah, I know. Big thick cock fills a woman up and makes her have lots of orgasms even in her ass. I've read enough stroke stories to understand what people get off on reading them. But as the woman on the receiving end of a large pole, I would have ended up in a hospital with a ruptured rectum long ago if not for Brandon's training.

Take my word for it, thick heavy cocks were made for a woman's pussy. And there is nothing like one to pound a girl senseless, to make her cum vaginally over and over until she passes out. Something which... I have yet to do. But I am still young.

But I digress. Oh yes, Brandon, anal and him kissing me as he plunged in my insides. As he fucked my ass and kissed me, I felt the need to reach between us to rub my clit. He was getting close to the end, so it turned into a race for who would come first.

"Yes... oh yes... fuck my ass," I uttered as I felt another orgasm approach.

I managed to cum seconds before Brandon stiffened and grunted, emptying his balls deep inside me. And in that instant, I reveled in the satisfaction of making a man cum. Not just that, but rewarding him for all the pleasure he had given me.

Now I know. I have probably confused you by mentioning how I lost my virginity to our neighbor and how Brandon was

"my first."

How can a girl have two firsts? For the answer to that question, you have to read...

"the rest of the story."

***

My name is Paula

Where I was born and lived is immaterial for my life story. It could have been in any suburban area in the United States -- they are all the same but the names and buildings. But it was Ft. Lauderdale. Our three-bedroom family home was in a cul-de-sac. I went to the local public schools, had a younger brother and two parents with a somewhat rocky marriage.

Dad moved out when I was fifteen, but he made enough money to have an apartment not far from my and my brother's high school and still pay for child support, the mortgage, and his own expenses. Mom and I had never been close, so I was gravitating toward my father... just as he left. And I missed him to no end. I mean a lot. So much so that it left a scar deep inside and shaped my thinking from then on.

Why did they split up? Well, the usual modern couple reasons, I suppose. Mom was a blond stunner. While not particularly fond of

"mumsy,"

I admit I got my looks from her and my dark hair from dad. But I digress. Yes, mom, dad, divorce.

I would not learn the details until years later when I milked it out of both my parents, but there was infidelity involved - from both of them at different times. Who was first seems immaterial as they eventually got back together again. But not before they both had their fun screwing other moms or dads, neighbors or coworkers, and even a couple of family members from the other side.

From what I was to learn, after they reunited, was that neither of them had played the field before marriage. Neither of them had experience with the opposite sex, and both asked themselves the eternal question of,

"is this all there is?"

when they reached that dangerous age: mid to late thirties.

Both had been naïve to think life is a fairy tale and that they "would live happily ever after." That they would be each other's,

"one and only,"

to have and hold until

"death did they part."

And then reality hit: Bills, responsibilities, kids, kids' activities, kids' homework, work, work trips... you know, the big O: Obligations.

It would not be until years later, when I was married with children, that I came to truly understand mom and dad's issues earlier on in life. But back then, I was a self-absorbed teenager who grew to her final height of five-four and full thirty-four-D breasts by the time I was thirteen. Thirteen!

Do you know what it's like to be a thirteen-year-old with the body of a full-grown woman? To have the face of a model and the sex drive of a rabbit? I think I wore off my finger as soon as I discovered what I could do with it and where it felt good. And more than that, the attention I was receiving from boys and grown men was both distracting and quite the ego boost.

I mean, guys my own age or upperclassmen, I could understand. But my father's friends? A soccer coach? A gym teacher? And a woman at that... ooof! Alright, I have to admit that I teased quite a few of them. I'm not proud of that, even though it's a teen girl's right of passage and all that. But, you see, I am not stupid.

Far from it, as I have a 175 IQ and a photographic memory. I found that chasing grades was smarter than getting pregnant and losing out on my full-ride scholarship at The University of Florida in Gainsville. But, not getting pregnant let this girl have quite the leeway in the sexual experimentation department.

I had some boyfriends, but never one too long as there were

"so many boys and so little time. Right?"

Still, it is a miracle I did not become a teen mother, managing to keep my virginity until I turned eighteen in my senior year. My vaginal virginity that is. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.

Anywho, I was a high school senior virgin at eighteen when Mrs. Sanchez from next door was visiting my mother the day I decided it was time to lose my cherry. Marisol Sanchez, a Cuban American, was married to Garry Sanchez, our next-door neighbor. And as the two women gossiped and chatted about all things, the topic of sex and their husbands came up.

Listening from the upstairs banister where I could not be seen, I almost went back to my room when mom started talking about dad's shortcomings. Not size-wise, but their lack of lust for each other before he left. On the other hand, Marisol bragged about Mr. Sanchez's equipment size and how he knew how to use it.

"I tell you, Selma," Marisol swooned. "Garry is the best ever. I know you have been without a man for a while. If you want to sample the goods, I can loan my man to you. You won't be disappointed."

"Loan him!" my mother had exclaimed. "Loan him?"

"It won't be the first time," Marisol had said with the wave of a hand. "I let Garry fuck Maggie Johnson across the street last month. Poor girl didn't walk right for days."

"You just let him screw other women?"

"Well, Selma, it's how I get to have other men. You don't think Garry would let me screw around without him getting his fair share now, would you? Garry is not the kind of man to let that happen without having his fun."

"Wow! I never expected that you two were that way. I mean, you are both Catholic and go to church."

"We are, and we do. But we don't lie or deceive each other, Selma. We both know who we are doing and when. We have even done couples together. So, no lying or cheating. No hiding or betrayal. We occasionally will do someone when there is no time to let each other know. But right after we come clean. And fuck like bunnies during the telling."

"Wow! I never knew."

"One thing Selma."

"What's that?" My stunned mother managed to ask.

"If you get a crack at my hubby, I want a shot at yours."

"Good luck with that," mom scoffed. "Ray doesn't live with us anymore."

"I know where your husband lives," Marisol replied. "I just don't want misunderstandings or theatrics after. Agreed?"

My mother hesitated for a minute, then replied.

"It's been a while I had a good fuck, Marisol. I think I'll take your offer. And if you have a shot at my ex, power to you. I hope he does better for you than he did for me."

"Selma, can you take a bit of advice from the woman offering you her husband?"

"How can I say no?" mom giggled.

"You and your husband gave up on each other too quickly. Every marriage goes through rough patches and boring sex. Garry and I sure did, but we didn't give up on each other. Or give up on ourselves, for that matter."

"What do you mean?" mom asked.

"Your Ray has lost weight with his running since you split up. And you have been dressing sexier since the divorce. Did you two have to break up to fix yourselves?"

"I... I don't know what to say."

"I know it's none of my business Selma, but I have seen you and Ray together. There is still love between you. I know you have dated some. I bet Ray has too. But you two could have had that and not broken up your family."

"Marisol, I don't think we are like you and Garry."

"Looking down at us now, are you, Selma?" Marisol replied, clearly somewhat offended.

"No, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do that," mom tried to cover up.

"Then don't. Your type looks down at people like Garry and I."

"Our type?" mom said, taken aback.

"Yes. People who live in their perfect world looking down on alternative marriage couples like ours. But you conventional types are all too willing to cheat, divorce, and break up your marriages and families. That is so much better than what Gary and I do, isn't it?"

"I'm not judging you, Marisol," my mom tried to defend herself.

"I'm sorry if it came off like I was judging YOU, Selma, but I won't take back what I said. My offer still stands, and so does my assessment. You need to stop looking down at people like Garry and I. If not, this deal is off."

There was a moment of tension before mom broke the silence.

"Marisol," my mother responded hesitantly. "Don't you get jealous?"

"Occasionally," our neighbor replied. "More so at first. Now we are more comfortable with each other."

"Is what you have an open marriage?"

"Kind of, yes. Only we don't go on dates with people. We just get together with other people and fuck. I go on dates with my Garry. I have the love part with my husband. All other men give me is a different cock and a different way to fuck. It's fun and naughty... exciting. Especially knowing that we do it right under the nose of people who live what they think are ordinary regular lives."

"I see," my mom replied, clearly having a lot to think about.

"I'll talk to Garry," Marisol said as she started to leave. "But I'm sure he would agree. He already told me he would love to do you. And so you and I are clear, I will go hook up with Ray."

"I understand," my mom replied with resignation.

"No Selma. Don't feel sad or jealous. Be happy for your husband and me. I'm glad that Garry will give you a good time, and I hope you give him a good time back. Garry deserves that. If you are going to be a drama queen about this, say so now. I could be screwing your husband by this evening."

"In that case, can I go over there tonight and be with Garry?"

"You mean, have Garry fuck you? Say it Selma."

"Yes, so Garry and I can fuck," I heard my mother speak in a way I never thought she ever would.

Later that night, dressed in heels, a short dress, and makeup, Mom went out the back door and into Sanchez's back yard. I watched her as she hesitated for a minute then knocked on the window pane. After the door slid open, Mom disappeared into the neighbor's house and didn't return home until one in the morning. I noticed that Marisol's car was not in the driveway and did not return until the following day -- noon. Way to go, dad!

***

I was intrigued as Mr. Sanchez was not the best-looking man around, but he was certainly confident. When I had caught him gazing at me at a barbeque last summer, he had not looked away as most men did when caught staring. Hm....

Knowing that Mr. Sanchez was a policeman who worked nights that month, I spied on him cutting the grass. He was fit for a guy in his mid-thirties. Unlike my dad, his hair was thinning. But he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Knowing that mom worked during the day as Marisol did, I took a sick day from school, telling mom I had terrible cramps. The ache I had in my nether region was different.