My name is Matthew, I am 23 and this story might seem a bit strange, but as with everything in life; to each his own. This is the story of how Amber and I started our sexual relationship. To some, it might seem strange, dysfunctional or even downright degrading, but it's the truth nevertheless. Read it and do with it as you will.
I met Amber in literature class at the local university -- a sort of advanced book club if you will. She was downright beautiful; natural long, blond hair, flowing down her shoulders, freckles all over her cute face, the most adorable smile you'll ever see and a body that could make a grown man cry. I lusted after her from the first moment I laid eyes on her, but as time went by, I also got to know her and I soon realized that she was as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. Aside from being smart -- she was well-read on a large number of topics and had an interesting opinion on most subjects -- she had a great sense of humor and a wonderful personality.
I asked her out for a cup of coffee, then a bite to eat, then dinner, then another dinner. Although we seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, she always kept me at a distance. At first, I assumed it was because she wasn't interested in me romantically. But as I also felt she was often flirting with me, I decided I needed to be absolutely sure before moving on. So, towards the end of our fourth date -- if I was going to get shot down, I might as well enjoy myself first, right -- I decided to ask her frankly.
"Amber, don't take this the wrong way, but I am after something more than friendship here; if you're not interested, just tell me, and we can still be friends, but at least I can stop kidding myself, and I can stop falling in love with you," I said.
She looked at me, took a few moments to compose herself and then replied, "I am having a great time with you Matthew, and I'd like this relationship to go further as well, but I am afraid of ruining what we have."
"Look, it's okay... if you're not attracted to me, then..."
She chuckled and interrupted me, "Not attracted to you? Matthew, after our last date, I masturbated for twenty minutes, do you know how long it's been since I've done that?"
Needless to say, I was flabbergasted. Sure, I felt proud and flattered, but also very confused. If I made her that horny, why wouldn't she let me kiss her, or feel her up a little bit at least?
She could tell I was taken aback -- to say the least -- so she decided to explain herself further.
"You probably think that I am this normal girl, but I have a dark side, Matthew... a fetish."
"You mean like leather or fishnets?" I asked naively.
Again she chuckled and said, "No Matthew, nothing with clothes or attributes... my fetish deals with the sexual acts themselves."
"I am confused, I thought you were a virgin," I asked.
"I am... "
"But then... how do... the fetish, I don't understand," I stammered.
"Look, for now, this fetish is just in my head, but I've been walking around with it for years. It has fueled most of the few orgasms I've ever had and I always promised myself that when the time came to start a relationship, I would do whatever I could to make it happen. But now that I am about to actually start one, I am not so sure anymore."
"Why don't you start by telling what your fetish is?" I asked carefully.
"You sure?"
"I don't think there's another way out of this, do you?"
"Guess not," she said, sipping from her beverage.
"Okay, here goes," she said, taking a deep breath.
"I think I love you Matthew, and after seeing my fair share of porn over the years, I can't imagine there being anything I would not be willing to do to you, or let you do to me, but..."
"But..." I repeated curiously.
"I don't want you to be first!" she blurted out, immediately pouring the remainder of her beverage down her throat.
"Wait... what? You don't want me to be first? What does that mean? You wanna have another relationship first?"
"No, I don't want anyone else, Matthew, I want you and I want to have sex with you! It's just that everything I do to you, I wanna do to someone else first!"
I took my soda and poured it down it one big swig. For some reason, my cock was bigger and harder than it had been all day. After putting my glass down, I just took about ten seconds to let her words sink in, trying to wrap my head around the concept.
"So, that's why we haven't kissed yet, or why you wouldn't let me feel you up?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Before I can, some other guy has to do it first?"
Again she nodded, and added, "And you have to watch."
"What?!" I whispered, shocked, feeling my cock become even harder.
"So, I have to watch you kiss another guy before I can kiss you... and if I want a handjob, I..."
After several seconds of silence, I continued, "That's fucked up Amber!"
"I know, but that's exactly what a fetish is... it's nasty, dirty or disgusting and it usually doesn't make any sense, but that's what makes it so exhilarating. Just knowing that everything I do to you, I've done to someone else first makes me wet. I know it makes me a slut for doing it while we're together, and I know it makes you a bit of a cuckold for watching me do it, but knowing those things only makes me want to do it more."
Needless to say, the atmosphere was ruined at that particular moment and so I cut our date short, telling her I needed some time to think about her ludicrous proposition. To tell you the truth, the first thing I did upon coming home was take out my ridiculously hard cock and stroke myself to a finish in the hallway. I didn't even make it into the living room. I figured that once the sexual urgency had gone, I would see things clearer, make the logical decision and end the relationship with Amber.
I pondered the issue for the rest of the night, dividing whatever time was left between drinking and whacking off. In the morning, after getting rid of another hard-on and having some breakfast, I could draw no other conclusion then that I wanted to be with her, no matter the cost.
I rationalized the whole, perverted thing, as a fad, nothing more. It would just be a one-time thing, it wasn't cheating, it was an investment, a conceit I needed to make to make this relationship work. Besides, judging from my incessant wanking over the last twelve or fourteen hours, it wasn't as if I wasn't getting anything in return. I could see a lot of spank bank moments in the foreseeable future.
In that moment of euphoria, I texted Amber that I wanted to move forwards, and as such, would be agreeing to her terms.
To my surprise, she immediately texted back, "Excellent news, what would you like to do to me first?"
Figuring it would be wise to start off slowly, I replied, "Kiss, cup a feel... that sort of thing."
Several minutes later, I received another text, "Ok, meet me at Central Plaza, 11am."
When I arrived at the Plaza, Amber was waiting for me, wearing a little red skirt, a white tank top accentuating her boobs and sneakers. With her sunglasses and her long flowing blond hair, she looked like a model. She was holding a clipboard and a pen.
She gave me a peck on the cheek and said, "I am really excited about this! You have no idea how important this is for me!"
"Yeah, well, no promises, I might still bail on you," I stated.
"Fair enough," she whispered, realizing what she was asking of me.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked.
"Well, you want to kiss and touch me, so we're going to make sure some other guy does that to me first, right in front of you," she stated, making herself squirm with pleasurable anticipation for a moment.
"Just follow my lead," she said, taking a look around the Plaza.
After ten or fifteen seconds, she located someone interesting and said, "Let's go."
