Please note: (1) All the characters in this story are 18 years of age or older. (2) This story is intended for adults only. (3) This story is a work of fiction; in this story no one has or gets sexually transmitted diseases. In the real world it's important to know who your sexual partner is and to practice keeping both of you safe. (4) In the world of fantasy your proclivities are just that: yours. In the real world, self-respect and respect for your partner are important.
* * * * *
The first few times I had sex with myself I didn't climax, but every time after that I did. It was pretty cool to learn new things about my body.
Orgasms. Pleasure. Who knew?
Like most of the senior girls, I was still struggling with sex, still trying to figure it out.
And the first three times I had sex with a boy, I didn't climax either. I think my body simply didn't grasp the new complications and feelings. Or maybe the required hormonal levels were still adjusting to the spasmodic terpsichorean process known as maturation. But, to be honest: having sex with a boy hurt too much. Fortunately, the fourth time we did it, bam, there it was!
So after remaining a virgin until well past my eighteenth birthday, my first regular orgasm, that is, from good ol' straightforward fucking, was a little better than OK. We both came at the same time. Well, I actually felt that he was about to and that made me hotter, so I got a little bit of a head start and then rode it higher when he bucked into me with his most forceful thrusts. Those ultimate, hard strokes pushed me to climax. It was different from all the orgasms I'd ever had, all of which had been from my own hand in one way or another. None of the handful of guys I'd dated had ever been able to make me climax before so I'd guessed that was just the way it was and the way it was going to be.
Fortunately, my mother actually seemed quite knowledgeable and it was easy to talk about this stuff with her. She had told me that whatever I was feeling now probably would change. If that was the case, then I could only expect it to get better as I got more experience. Right?
Anyway, don't misunderstand me here -- I enjoyed the orgasm, but it had been just short of the goal, a bit of a letdown. More simply put: It was good, yet something was missing. As I said, I'd had plenty of previous autoerotic orgasms, but I was expecting this one to be something special.
It was not that special.
My boyfriend Bull was not to be faulted. I mean, how could I possibly blame a guy -- he must have
earned
the nickname "Bull," for goodness sake! -- for
only
bringing me to a satisfying orgasm.
Still, my relatively new sexual anima, fostered by my teenage selfishness, had wanted it to be a mind-blowingly special orgasm.
Bull was good looking with broad muscular shoulders, a nice smile, and great big brown eyes with long lashes. He had a totally ripped bod, had what I thought was a beautiful, big cock, and from what I could tell he knew how to use it.
I may not have been able to rate his cock based on previous fucking experience, but I'd given enough guys hand jobs and boob jobs -- well, not the implant kind -- to know that his dick was above average in length and girth.
If I'm honest, though, my statement about having "given enough guys," might have been a tad self-inflated. In fact, there's no question about it. In truth, I'd given all of four hand jobs and had one guy's penis in between my breasts two times.
During our "warm-up" (Bull's term for foreplay. What a jock!) he'd played with me while I was playing with him and I was dripping wet long before his cock came anywhere near my pussy. He was gentle but it still hurt when we started. And, while we were screwing, he continued to play with my nipples and my clitoris to a pretty terrific and much appreciated response on my part. Regardless of my orgasm situation, my pussy was complaining about the pain. I hoped it wouldn't continue to be like this each time.
Still, it was fun. Don't misunderstand. But, after waiting, delaying the ultimate -- once in a girl's lifetime -- moment, I wanted "amazing!" So, first time: no orgasm and a lot of pain. Second time: no orgasm and a little less pain. Third time: no orgasm and much less pain. Fourth time: almost no pain and a small orgasm.
As I lay there, basking in the post-coital warmth (my first "post-coital" anything, ever) of his muscular chest and his arms around me, I could trace the problem back to Lucy's brother's hoard of downloaded porn. You see, Lucy's brother Gil had built an entire server dedicated to housing his stash of terabytes of illegally downloaded porn, including photos, stories, and videos.
Sorry, I should have told you about Lucy and Gil. Growing up, Lucia and Gilberto Docker lived next door. Lucy and I were the same age. Neither one of us could even remember meeting and becoming friends; it simply seemed like we'd been friends forever.
Gil was a few years older and, as we were entering puberty, he was already into that sullen, angry young man phase of a teenager's life. His door was always closed and locked. He rarely came out and had nothing to do with Lucy and me or even his folks. When he left his room, he left the house.
Admittedly, he maintained a high GPA, was busy with sports and other extracurricular activities, had girlfriends, and seemed popular at school. There were no reports of him binge drinking or doing drugs so his parents wisely (I realize now) left him alone. They figured that it was a phase and that he'd grow out of it.
So, Gil turned a big, old Mac Pro into a server and brought it to school for his computer club. After a few weeks he brought it back home and everyone thought that was the end of it. Lucy and I, though, had a feeling that he had decided to set it up as a porn server. This was partly because we could never find any physical pornography in his room when we sneaked in there. (Don't tell him that.) We also figured that while the Mac was at school he had set it to download porn 24/7 over the very high speed Internet connection the school had.
Lucy and I had never seen much porn other than the occasional soft-core shows on cable and a few adult magazines. Her parents and my mom used some lame, but unfortunately, fairly functional "parental controls" on our home networks for our log-ins. But, unbeknownst to his parents, Gil had set up his own network using the Mac as its server and had purchased a separate router.
The Docker's basement was quite large and Mr. Docker had the foresight when they moved in to get some plywood and build four separate, locked storage areas, one for each member of the family.
Shortly after the big Mac was brought home, on a night I was sleeping over at Lucy's, we heard some noise and quietly peeked out Lucy's bedroom door. Gil was carrying the computer. Because of his late night sneaking about, we concluded that our assumptions about it being an X-rated electronic file cabinet had been correct and we both were more than curious to see what was on it. Unfortunately, it didn't show up on the network so we had no access to it. That night, however, while he was in the basement, Lucy sneaked into his room and looked up the password of his wireless router while I kept watch at the top of the stairs for Gil's return.
Figuring that his Wi-Fi network was safe with his long password, Gil did not use any of the security features of the Mac's operating system. So, once we had the router name and password, we were in.
I still remember the moment that Lucia came back in the room and we quietly closed the door. "Cara, I got it," she whispered to me.
"Let me see," I said as she brought out a small flashlight to see what she'd written down. I couldn't believe that we were both excited just by discovering the dumb password! "Is that it?" I asked, surprised at the Gil's long, but probably easy to remember password. "It's just a bunch of girl's names."
"They're probably porn stars, Cara," Lucy replied after a few moments.
"Hmm, I hadn't thought about that," I said, realizing I didn't know the name of any porn stars, male or female. "Can we see it tonight?" I asked.
"We probably shouldn't," Lucy said. "It's better if we wait until he's got it set up. We don't want him to know that we know."
"Boy, you got that right. I'd be so embarrassed," I said candidly.
Eventually, we went to sleep, but I could feel something new inside of me tingling in anticipation of seeing real porn. And seeing what professional sex stars do!
* * * * *
As a helplessly, hormone-controlled-and-manipulated teenage girl, there are times when your sex drive is in control and you lash out at any one or any thing keeping you from your goal. There are other times when sex is the farthest thing from your mind. (Maybe this is truer for girls than guys. Upon further reflection, there's no
maybe
about it!)
Hence, it was more than a week later, frustratingly for me, that Bull and I had sex for the second time. I was hoping my internal response would be more satisfying. No, not just satisfying, but truly fulfilling. Let's face it: A vacation can be satisfying and maybe even a burp can be satisfying, but sex should be terrific or better. I wanted awesome, not just satisfying.
So how, I asked myself, could it have been better than just
satisfying