The summer after my sophomore year at college, I got a job in a medium-sized city 1000 miles from my school. I spent three months doing the 8:30 to 5 Big Office routine during the day and the Footloose-And-Fancy Free at night. I rented a room in a large house that served as an adjunct frat house rental during the school year, though during the summer the students were gone and the house was just half-filled with twenty-something guys who took advantage of cheap housing. Life was good!
One Thursday a housemate suggested we drive a half hour across the river to a dance club he knew about, and on Friday evening we made the trek. The cover charge was small, the bartender didn't look too closely at my fake ID (being six months shy of 21), and the dance floor was crowded – who could ask for more? An hour later I spotted her, standing out in a huddle of three girls. I studied her from 30 feet away - an absolutely gorgeous face, and a slim frame with generous breasts. I was entranced.
I had nothing to lose. I approached, made eye contact, and asked her to dance. We stayed on the dance floor for an hour, gyrating to the driving beat of rock & roll, mostly fast but some slow. We talked when the volume permitted; otherwise we just fed off each other's presence as we moved together in sync. I was enamored with her, and she gave me every indication she felt the same.
At the end of the evening I had her name – Sheila – her phone number, and her encouragement to get together "real soon." I called her on Saturday, and on Tuesday I was driving from work to her house. It was her mother's house, although during the week her mother (who was divorced) worked a couple of hours away in another city, renting an apartment there and only coming home on weekends. Otherwise, Sheila lived with her older brother and his girlfriend and their infant son.
Our relationship progressed quickly. Sheila told me she'd recently broken up with her boyfriend Billy, and I accepted my role as The Rebound without complaint. Sheila was, without exaggeration, simply the most beautiful girl I'd ever been with. Sexually, she was timid. She told me she'd only had sex with one guy – not Billy -- and it hadn't gone well. She never told me exactly what happened, though she hints she dropped hints that he had forced himself on her in a way that was borderline rape. She dumped him and got together with Billy, the recently departed boyfriend. They were together for almost a year until something happened between them and they broke up. I figured it had something to do with sex, since she told me she never had sex with Billy, as she was too traumatized by the earlier encounter.
With me as The Out-Of-Town Rebound, however, Sheila was curious about sex. At first we'd hang out around her neighborhood and in her house. We'd make out on the couch in the darkened living room while her mother (on the weekends) and brother were in their own bedrooms. By the fourth date in two weeks, we were hot and heavy on the couch. My hands were up her shirt on her spectacular breasts and down her pants diddling her swollen, creamy pussy. Thankfully, Sheila kept her orgasms quiet, with her moist gasps aimed directly into my ear.
I was in love! Okay, maybe not "love," but I was definitely in lust!
My first two lovers were nonorgasmic, despite my best (albeit inexperienced) efforts. Nothing worked with either of them – not fingering, not oral, and not (of course) from fucking. Number One was on the Pill, and we had sex whenever we got the chance. She was my introduction to bareback sex, and that spoiled me forever. Number Two was a very reluctant virgin. After weeks of gentle seduction, she eventually allowed me to slip my cock inside her tantalizing pussy for all-too-brief, partial insertions, finishing with "coitus interruptus" eruptions on her tummy. She wouldn't use birth control beyond a Rhythm Method eye on the calendar, doubling-down with defensive use of contraceptive foam. "I'm still a virgin," she asserted one evening after our usual rub-and-spurt, "because you've never cum inside me." A few minutes later I settled that particular issue. Long story short, we broke up shortly thereafter.
Number Three was a charm, however regrettably brief our relationship turned out to be. She was delightfully orgasmic and on the Pill – and orgasmic during intercourse, which got me addicted to that, as well as to bareback. I enthusiastically enjoy the female orgasm, regardless of how it arrives, though there is something profoundly satisfying to bring your lover to a climax with your cock stretching her open and buried deep. It's a primal thing, an instinctual dominant-submissive penetration of your masculine hardened flesh into her soft, slickly welcoming feminine flesh, and then being able to thrust and grind and bring her to a breathtaking, writhing moaning orgasm as you pump rivers of your juice into her body.
And so with Sheila, I was flooded with testosterone and horny as hell, and I was looking for more than simply fingering her to an orgasm. The next weekend I brought her back to my house in the early afternoon. There in the relaxed privacy of my room, out of earshot of her mother and brother, we got naked and we wrinkled the sheets in my double bed. Sheila was a goddess, and my mouth worshipped at the altar of her pussy. Her scent and her taste got me rock-hard, and in my bed she allowed herself to be more vocal. She was still somewhat shy, though that soon passed. Her breathy, guttural grunts ramped up to announce her orgasm, complete with a final few seconds of muscle-stiffening silence followed by several sharp, high-pitched squeaks as she rocked her hips to slash her raw, open pussy against my mouth and slathering tongue.
The only catch was that I didn't have a condom, and Sheila wasn't on the Pill. When I mounted her, I kept my cock outside. "Be careful," she warned, and I caressed her pussylips and clit with my erection until I couldn't stand it any longer and carefully (and reluctantly) unloaded onto her belly as her right fist clutched my pulsing shaft. It wasn't my ideal, but it was a start.
Afterwards, I asked Sheila about her menstrual cycle. I'm regular, she said, and told me she expected her period to begin in a couple of days. In my horny optimism, that meant she was still probably safe – "probably" being the operative word, of course. You've heard the old saying, "What do you call people who use the rhythm method? Parents!" Still, in my current state of mine – and Sheila's – "probably" seemed adequate enough.
We began to make out again, and soon my erection returned. My mouth returned to her sweet, musky pussy, and before long her nectar was flowing again, her pussylips were fattened with arousal, and her clit hardened as stiffly as my cock. This time when I mounted her, we both knew where things were headed. Sheila's legs opened wide, and she angled her hips to give me a target that I didn't really need.
