mattdyne: First Times Yesterday I was in the gym locker room after swimming laps, and there was a gu
mattdyne: First Times Yesterday I was in the gym locker room after swimming laps, and there was a guy there with an extraordinarily huge—extremely thick and quite long—cock. He was talking to another guy who was sitting on a bench a few feet away. Mostly in the locker room men just go about their business, neither showing off nor hiding their magic poles, but if anything guys seem, if not insecure at least a little (pun intended) private about their privates. But no big deal. The guy I noticed pretended to be casual, but he was showing off. At one point he grasped his cock with thumb and forefinger and his balls with a towel and gave his cock a good shake while pretended to dry between his legs. In fantasy a huge cock is a good thing, but looking at this guy and imagining being a woman, especially a young woman who hadn’t had her first time or perhaps had but was inexperienced, I found this specimen frightening. It didn’t look sexy. It wasn’t arousing. It would be painful. The first time I was graced with permission to be a girl’s first I didn’t go through with it. And it wasn’t permission so much as her request. You might wonder why I turned her down. It was complicated—there were pros and cons—and as much as I was aroused I was fearful. For one, the request was sprung on me out of the blue, and there was no birth control. And though she assured me she was not in a fertile part of her cycle, well, you know the old saying about what they call those who practice rhythm: Parents! I made the right decision, but looking back and looking at the girls in this post with their tight little bodies, just got ‘em titties, and nipples begging to be sucked, well, I do have regrets. She probably doesn’t remember me, but if I’d been her first I’d own that part of her forever. Note: I did give her many memorable orgasms before she asked me to go all the way, and she did love me, so I’m sure she remembers me, just not in the way I want her to. How did it end? Why wasn’t I her first later? It’s a long sad story with an unhappy ending. I don’t care to discuss it. Though I turned down my first request to be a first, I learned from the experience. The next time a girl asked me to be her first it didn’t come out of the blue, and I made sure we talked about it before we did the deed and shared the experience. I wanted the occasion to be special, and she wanted it to be special for me too. I assured her it would be, but she didn’t think just having her for the first time was enough. So she bought a special see-through bra, and she teased me by letting me look down her shirt. Eventually she took off her shirt, and she let me take off her bra. Then she took off a wrap around skirt and showed me she had on no panties and that she had shaved especially for me. She had never shaved before. She laid down and spread her legs, and she said, “I’ve had things in me, so don’t worry about bleeding.” I was of two minds about that. One, going through a hymen was an experience I’d never had and on some level wanted. I was curious about it, and the idea of having that power—taking away that part of her—was exciting. Two, I was glad we could share my being her first without her being uncomfortable and perhaps having to stop. If truth be told, however, the way I phrased it in my mind was not that we would share the experience but that I could do it to her. I was still a young man with more hubris than sensitivity. She was tight and wet. Performing her strip-tease had really got her going, me too. I fucked her for a long time, and then we turned over and she came on me, so to speak. After she rested we turned over again—I was still inside her. My balls were blue and my cock was primed and more ready to do its job. I held off as long as I could—a matter of pride—but I’d already waited beyond reasonable limits, and it wasn’t long at before I exploded to deposit a bucket of semen insided her, or so it felt. “God that felt good,” I said later. “Why did I wait so long?,” she replied. “Let’s do it again.” When I was in college I met a poor little rich girl. She wasn’t like other girls who dressed casually except for special events. This girl always wore expensive clothing, designer dresses and lingerie, and she accessorized and dabbed on perfume that had to have cost a small fortune. I wasn’t like her. I wasn’t poor but we had different attitudes. I dressed in t-shirts and jeans, and I didn’t go to the barber every two weeks and shave every day. But she was attracted to me, in part because opposites attract but mostly because I was nice and could see through her insecurities to the core of her that I found interesting. She was sexually inhibited, but she was horny. She lived in a dorm and had a roommate, so we went to my apartment to be alone. She liked to make out—to kiss and get felt up—but she didn’t want to take her clothes off to be entirely naked, and she made it clear that she didn’t want me to fuck her. I was pretty sure she was a virgin. The third time we made out she let me take her panties off by sliding the skinny garment down and off her legs under her dress. She was embarrassed about my seeing her naked, but her reticence dropped when my fingers played tunes on her clit. She spread her legs, so I could run my middle finger up and down between her labia. But when I started to put a finger inside her she grabbed my hand and said, “Don’t!” I stopped. “OK, I won’t,” I said. “Really don’t,” she said. “OK, I won’t. Really,” I reassured her. And I went back to stimulating her clit and very carefully the entrance of her vagina. I brought her to a delightful climax, but she was incapable of offering me any kind of relief in return. The thought of oral sex horrified her, and her halfhearted attempt to help me come, even with lube all over her hands, was too delicate a touch to accomplish much. She was, however, fascinated by watching me jerk off and seeing copious spurts of cum shoot out of my penis and land on my chest. “Wow!,” she said, her mouth remaining open in amazement. The next time we made out I brought her halfway to an orgasm, and I stopped. “Don’t stop!,” she begged. “It’s not fair,” I said, giving her erect clit a teasing little touch. “I know,” she said. It was nice of her to admit it. “But I’ve got to come,” she said and started rubbing herself to an orgasm. “Nuh uh. No fair,” I said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. You can go back to your dorm and finish yourself there.” “My roommate is studying for a test. She’ll be there until tomorrow,” she whined. “I have a condom,” I said, giving her clit another little stroke. “Oh no. I’m a virgin,” she gasped fearfully, finally admitting what I knew for sure, for I had gotten a good look between her spread legs and saw the veil of a hymen at her entrance. And though I was no expert on the subject, a hymen was definitely present, had what seemed to be a small opening, and clearly—and painfully—needed to be breached. “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I’ll help you have a nice come first, and then you’ll let me come inside you. It’s going to happen sooner or later, so why not today? With me? Instead of some nasty guy who’s going to force himself on you when he finds out you’re a virgin?” I gave her clit another teasing touch to convince her. “Okay,” she relented with a moan. “But it’s going to hurt.” I didn’t lie to her, but I pushed the top of her dress all the way down to her waist, kissed each breast in turn (she had let me take off her bra), and I took a nipple between my lips and sucked it firmly into my wet mouth. I spread her legs and put my fingers back on her clit. She had a really nice climax with a lifting of hips and a great crying out of pleasure as she came repeatedly. She was wet and ready and resigned when I positioned myself on top of her, kneeling between her legs, spreading them wide with my knees. I positioned my penis carefully, rock hard and ready to penetrate her depths. I figured it would be best to just get it over with rather than go in slowly, prolonging her discomfort. “Wham!” I pushed inside her quickly, breaking through the barrier that I felt resist then let go. “Owwww! Don’t!” she cried out in pain. I didn’t know what ‘Don’t’ meant, as the deed had already been done. However, even though my need to bury myself deep and pump to an orgasm, which wouldn’t take long (considering the state I was in) was intense, I gritted my teeth and stopped only halfway in her. I didn’t want to hurt her further, but I needed to come horrible bad, and I was afraid she was going to tell me to pull out, so I pushed in slowly, until I was all the way in her, and rather than pull out and in and out, rubbing her wounds, I only pulled out a little and mostly pushed, pushed, pushed, and it wasn’t long before I came too. What a relief. I stayed in her until I got soft. And then slowly and gently pulled out. My penis was coated with bright, lurid red blood, but there wasn’t as much as I thought there would be. She liked how I treated her, and she loved the sex, so after she stopped hurting, which took about a week, we made love again and a few times after that. Ultimately we were from different worlds and we drifted apart. The last I saw of her she was on the arm of a preppy guy who who was on the crew team, or maybe it was polo. She saw me too, and from her expression I could tell she didn’t want me to come up to her, but I eyed her up and down and winked as I passed by. Her boyfriend could have bent me into a pretzel, but I had her first, I thought smugly. Those two were the only first times I’ve had, other than my own, but I’ve been with other young women who’d been penetrated yet hadn’t had good experiences and were still virgins at heart, meaning they hadn’t experienced making love while being loved. I’ve been insensitive as a young man, but not usually, and only mildly. Mostly I was sensitive. I never abused a woman. I always stopped if she asked me to, and I take pleasure from giving pleasure. I like being touched, but what really arouses me is touching. “Touch me,” she said after I’d undressed her. -- source link