Handjobs In The Basement Pt 01

Like any young woman, I was concerned with what others thought of me. I tried my best in school, was well behaved, and participated in sports and other extracurricular activities.

But I wasn't the brightest girl, or a very good student. I put in a lot of effort, I really did. I always did my homework, and I studied for quizzes and exams. I got ok grades, but was never at the top of the class.

I didn't get into much trouble, and was mostly a rule follower. If my friends were acting out and breaking the rules, I wouldn't admonish them or tell them to behave, but I would distance myself from their behavior in an attempt to not get into trouble. I tried to be an example to them of how to behave, but no one was ever really looking to me to see how to do things anyway.

I was on the dance team, and the volleyball team. I wrote (or tried to write) for the student newspaper, and I worked on the yearbook every year. I went to our schools sporting events, and attended all the dances and other social events.

At 5 foot 6 inches tall, I guess I wasn't average height. Maybe a little taller than most girls. And I suppose I was a little above average in the looks department, but I didn't feel that way at the time. I had long blonde hair, a cute face, and wasn't at all overweight. My hips and ass were shapely, I didn't have a belly to speak of at that age. My breasts weren't huge, but they weren't small and they sat high on my chest without and sag. I didn't feel hot, or beautiful, but I was young and insecure and didn't realize that I was, physically, at least, pretty well put together.

So I couldn't believe it when, during one summer break, I struck up a relationship with one of the most popular boys in our school. We were both lifeguards at the public pool, and always chatted with each other during our breaks during the day. After several weeks, he'd come over to my house to hand out on a Saturday here and there, and eventually grew close enough to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

This young man was every girls dream. He was a superior athlete, the captain of every team he played on. With a mind that could run circles around mine, quite frankly, he was one of the top students at our school. And he was at the gym most mornings, developing those rippling muscles that I loved to run my hands over, feeling their power. He was tall, handsome, and able to talk to adults on their level with ease. I was head-over-heels for him after just several weeks. I couldn't believe that he was interested in a girl like me, but

Of course when he came over we'd make out in my bedroom, we'd hold each other, cuddle, and do all those things that young couples do. For such a stud athlete, my boyfriend was pretty affectionate. He was always touching me, holding my hand, caressing my face, and things like that. His hands, um, wandered quite a bit when we made out, but it didn't bother me at all. I liked the attention. I liked the way he touched me.

Even when his touching me became more like groping, I didn't really mind. I hadn't been touched like that ever before, but I allowed him to do it because he seemed to really like it. And he seemed to really like me. He'd caress my ass with both hand when we kissed if we were standing. It felt good. When we'd lay on my bed and make out his hands would wander up my shirt and he'd fondle my breasts over my bra.

And of course he eventually was bold enough to slip one up under my bra and play with my bare boob. I wasn't sure at first, but I grew to like it. He was gentle, and loving, and seemed to enjoy feeling my boobs so much. I felt like it would be wrong of me to deny him. I was his girlfriend after all, and I was pretty sure that's what girlfriends allowed their boyfriends to do.

Once school started back up again in the fall, he'd come over on Friday or Saturday nights and we'd watch movies together in the basement. I don't remember any of the movies, because we didn't really watch them. We just made out. We kissed, of course, and he was very good at that. But it was obvious that what he really wanted to do was continue to explore my body with his hands. His touches became more bold, and he clearly wanted to have access to more and more intimate parts of my body.

He had been over every inch of my pant-covered ass with his hands, and every inch of my bare breasts over the summer. But as those make-out sessions continued in my basement, it became clear that he wanted more from me. He wanted more of my body.

One night while making out, he became a bit more aggressive than usual. He had been rubbing my pussy through my pants regularly for a few nights now, but this time he started to unbutton my jeans. I wasn't sure what to do. I was nervous for him to stick his hand down there, to touch my bare pussy, or even my pussy just covered in my panties. But I didn't say no. I didn't say anything. I just let him do it. It seemed like he knew what he wanted, and I'm not sure telling him to stop or slow down would have worked anyway. So I let it happen.

He unbuttoned my jeans, and then unzipped them. I had thought he would just get my jeans out of the way, and rub me over my panties. But he wanted something different. He put his hand right down my panties and started to feel my bare pussy. Well, not shaved, but without any clothes over it. And I was nervous, but I sure did like the feeling of him touching me there. I had explored myself with my own hands a more than a few times at this point in my life and knew that if he found the right spot it would feel REALLY good. And it didn't take him long to find that spot, to find my clit.

He was kissing me, with his one arm around me and his other hand down my panties working my clit while we watched a movie in my parent's basement. There was no door we could lock, nothing to prevent one of them form walking in on us. But I didn't stop him, I didn't slow him down. In fact, I couldn't keep myself from gasping and moaning and squirming in pleasure from him working my clit like that.

Before long I felt that feeling building in my 'intimate' area. That feeling I'd get when I rubbed myself for a few minutes consistently. I couldn't believe that he could do the same thing, that he was so good at making me feel the same way. He was going to make me cum--I had to actively try to keep quiet now--I couldn't let my parents hear what we were doing. He seemed to know that I was close, and said to me, "That feels good, doesn't it?" I couldn't really form any words at that point, and just nodded my head. "I want you to cum for me, Kelly, he told me," and that was all it took. I came while he continued to rub my clit, and seemed to flood his and my panties with even more of the juices that had been lubing his fingers this whole time.

He pulled his face back from mine, smiling. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" he asked. And again I just nodded. I hadn't planned to let things go this far. I had never had anyone else touch me like that, or even touch my pussy at all for that matter. And this guy had made me cum. In fact, he had told me to cum, and then I came. My body felt so good, so relaxed. But my mind was racing trying to process it all.

The he said to me, "It's my turn to cum now. I need it, Kelly, you've been teasing me for so long, Watching you cum has me so hard, see?" And he pulled his sweatshirt away a little so I could see the crotch of his jeans. I could easily see the outline of his erection. It was laying out kind of along his left leg, and looked a lot longer and thicker and even a lot of the cocks I'd seem in porn.

I hadn't even ever rubbed his cock over his pants, much less thought about making him cum. I didn't know the first thing about how to make a guy cum. But now he was unbuttoning his jeans, and then unzipping them. I watched as he wiggled a little to pull them down far enough to get out his erect penis, still covered by his boxers. But there it was, I could see it laying to the side but still pushing so hard against his boxers, just straining to get free of them.

He took my hand, and as he was moving it toward his straining penis told me, "You have to make me cum, Kelly. I need it. Watching you cum made me so horny, I'm too hard and horny not to cum. A good girlfriend will make her boyfriend cum when he needs too, right? Isn't that what you want to be for me?"

Until this point I hadn't considered this, making him cum, as part of being his girlfriend. But the way he said it, so matter of fact, so sure that he was right, made me understand that he hadn't even considered that I might not want to do it. He was assuming that I'd just go ahead and do what he wanted.

And he was probably safe to assume it. He had many, many other options when it came to finding a girlfriend. He knew it. I knew it. He knew I knew. And I knew he knew I knew. He didn't have to give me an ultimatum, and he didn't even really imply one either. But we both knew what he was saying. If I didn't make him cum, he'd find a girlfriend that would. We both knew exactly what he was saying.

His hand was on top of mine guiding it, and then my hand was on his penis. He wrapped my hand around it. I felt how warm it was. How big around it was. How it twitched and pulsed. How it seemed to be a part of him, but also seemed to have a life of its own. Like when it was big and hard like that it was some sort of monster attached to him between his legs.

I was terrified of his monster. I had read plenty about penises, and seen a few in dirty magazines or on the internet. But touching his, being guided in how to stroke it, made me so scared. Scared of whether or not I could please him adequately. Scared of what he might expect of me. Scared of what he might do to me with THAT THING, THAT MONSTER between his legs.

"I'm just a little nervous, I don't really know what to do," I said.

"Shush," he replied, "I'll show you what to do." Then he started to pull down his boxers. I watched, almost unable to believe that this was happening. What was about to happen. I had felt it, but now I was going to see it. Feeling it was so scary, but I was absolutely terrified of seeing the monster in his pants.

And then, there it was. I looked down and I'm sure my eyes grew abnormally wide. There was now way that was part of his body. There's no way he could have that in his pants all the time, no way he could walk around with that thing. He was hard. Very hard. Where before his boxers had kept it laying along his body, now it was sticking straight up, straining to escape his crotch.

I had seen photos and drawings of an erect penis before, but this was almost overwhelming. He I was, faced with one in real life. And although I obviously knew that erect penises were bigger and harder than soft penises, I don't think I was in any way prepared for how big and hard his penis looked. It appeared to be almost bursting out of it's skin, stretching all of it so tightly. Even the tip of it, it's head, was straining to be contained by it's skin. And I could see veins running up and down the length of it, giving his shaft some texture all while making it look very angry, and very mean.

And as it strained, and it reached up to be free of his boxers, it pulsed. I could see his heartbeat in the movement of his cock. The whole thing moved every time his heart took a beat. It sort of bobbed up and down, all the veins grew bigger, and the whole inside seemed to want to push out and explode. I could have never imagined a penis would look like this, would move like this on it's own, or would present itself to me in a way that would scare me so much.

"Wrap you hand around it," he said. He still had my hand in his, and moved to put my hand around his angry weapon. I pulled my hand away quickly, and he shot me a glance that sent chills down my spine. But it was only for a brief moment, and he immediately softened his gaze. In that split second, though, I was terrified. The look he gave me was primal, like an animal before it attacks. I'm not sure he even had control over that immediate reaction, but he quickly regained it and became more like his normal self--though clearly still very hard and very horny.

"What's wrong, Kelly?" he asked, in a soothing voice. The words and the tone were not quite what I expected to hear, but I was glad that he was concerned about my feelings and not just going to force me to touch that monster between his legs. When I first opened my mouth to respond I found that I couldn't speak. Not that I didn't have the words. I just couldn't physically get them out of my mouth. I took a few deep breaths and that seemed to help.

After several seconds I was able to whisper, "I'm scared."

"There's nothing to be scared of," he said, and began to move my hand over to his penis again.

"No, please don't," I protested. And to my surprise he put my hand back in my lap.

He moved his hand to my face and turned it to face him as he looked me in the eye. "It's not going to hurt you, Kelly. Just touch it. I need to feel your hand on it. I'll teach you how to make me feel good."

"I'm just really scared of it," I answered back. I was scared of it. But I was also just a little scared of him, too, after the look he gave me on my initial hesitation to touch it. I saw something in that look that I had never seen before in him, something I had never seen before in anyone. Raw, pure aggression, just for an instance. And that really scared me. I never wanted to see that ever, ever again.

"It won't hurt you, Kelly. It's just my dick," he replied. "I know," I said, "But I've never touched one before, and yours is, um, kind of intimidating..." I wasn't sure how to tell him that I was scared of both his penis, and him at this point.

"There's a first time for everything Kelly, and you're my girlfriend. Sitting around making out, feeling your boobs, and fingering your pussy makes me obviously really horny. I made you cum, now it's your turn to make me cum. I'm only asking for a handjob. Just jerk me off a little until I nut. It's no big deal Kelly," he said. I didn't tell him that I thought it was a really, really big deal.

"I don't know if I can touch it," I finally admitted.

I was worried about what his response would be. I was worried that I would see that look on his face again, that look in his eyes again, that look that scared me so much for a brief second. That look that scared me as much if not more than the monster between his legs.

Other than the initial few seconds that I looked at his penis, when I noticed how it strained and veins popped and it pulsed with is heartbeat, I had kept my eyes averted. I think I thought if I didn't see it that it would be less scary. And that maybe he would put it away. He had of course noticed that I wasn't looking at it. He, on the other hand, was either looking at me when he talked, or looking down at his big, fat monster cock. He was staring at it when he seemed to think of a compromise.

"What if you don't have to touch it?" he asked. I let out a breath that I until then hadn't realized I had been holding. His suggestion was such a relief. I was sure he was going to make me jerk him off. I was sure he would, somehow, convince me to touch that thing until he got his orgasm. But now I could relax just a little. He was going to take it easy on me after all.

"Really?" I asked, "You'd be ok with that?" I couldn't believe that, after looking at me like that, after seeing how hard and strained his penis was, that he'd just put it away and we'd continue to watch the movie.

"Really. You don't have to touch it. If it scares you, if you're that nervous, I'll just put it back in my boxers...and you can jerk me off like that," he said with a smile that wasn't altogether scary, but didn't make me feel all that comfortable nonetheless.

So my relief was short-lived. But I thought I might be able to deal with his suggestion. I wouldn't have to touch it. I wouldn't have to see it. And it seemed that he would be satisfied with a handjob through is boxers. I wasn't exactly sure how it would work. I wasn't sure if I could even do it like he wanted, or would be any good at it. But I didn't know that it seemed way better than actually touching that monster and feeling it's skin with my bare hands. I think he sensed a little change in my body language, I had become just a little less tense. He saw his opportunity.

"I need to you make me cum, Kelly. It's the only way this boner will go away. I need it, and I want my girlfriend to do it for me."

I did watch as he pulled his boxers up to cover up his boner. But it's not like they really left anything to the imagination. I couldn't see the skin anymore, but I could still see the outline of the head, and the straining and the pulsing were still really obvious even covered by his underwear. Then he reached over and took my hand in his, and placed in on his monsterpenis now covered by his boxers. As I touched it, I felt his whole body tense up a little, then relax.

He wrapped my fingers around his covered cock and showed me how to stroke it up and down. I couldn't even get my fingers around it, and I could now feel it pulsing, larger, then a little relaxed, then big and firm again, then a little relaxed, and so on and so on while I stroked. His breath quickened a little, and I could tell that he really liked what I was doing. As I got the hang of it and established a decent stroking rhythm, he let go of my hand and I was on my own, giving my boyfriend a handjob for the very first time.

He reached over for my face and pulled me in for a kiss while I stroked his monsterpenis through his boxers. "That feels really good, Kelly," he told me while I worked his scary, engorged cock. "Just keep going right like that. I'm sure you can feel how hard I am for you. Keep stroking me, yes. Don't you dare stop, Kelly. I need this so bad." He was kissing me forcefully...holding my face in his hands...keeping his mouth on mine, on my cheeks, at my ears. He was breathing even more heavily now, and nibbling on my earlobes, licking my neck, pushing his head against mine. At a few points I lost the rhythm of my stroking, but he'd back off some and let me get re-established. I could tell that he liked the making-out part of this, but what he really wanted was my hand stroking his big hard dick. Back and forth, over and over and over and over.

After only a few minutes of this, he pulled his face away slightly and turned my face toward his. "Keep stroking me, Kelly," he said. "I love the way you're making my dick feel, I'm close to cumming."

Now I had never made a guy cum before, and had only seen it once or twice in a porno. One or two of my friends had described what happens to me before, and mostly what I remembered form those conversations was about how messy it was. How it shoots out, and how it can be pretty messy. But his monsterpenis was contained by his boxers, so I thought that wouldn't be such a problem. So when he told me, "I'm gonna cum, Kelly, you're gonna make me cum," I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

His cock started to spasm. I thought it was pulsing before in time with his heartbeat, but this was a whole new level. Huge pulses, now, along with spasms that seemed to go through the entire rest of his body, too. He stopped kissing me and leaned back into the couch to continue to those whole body spasms. I kept ahold of his cock, only to feel it grow momentarily even larger. And then I felt something wet. And it got wetter. And wetter. I pulled my hand away from his penis, but he grabbed it immediately and put it back on his dick and growled, "Don't fucking stop" though a couple more spasms, so I went back to stroking. But now my hand was a wet, gooey mess. His cum had leaked through his boxers and pretty much covered his entire penis, which seemed impossible but I was feeling it all with my stroking hand. I didn't dare stop until he told me, and he had me stroke him for several more seconds as he seemed to calm down, the spasms subsided, and the cum stopped soaking through the fabric of his underwear.