My first older man

It was the year I got my first C-cup bra. I had been itching and
uncomfortable in the chest for months, and sometimes the straps
left painful red welts. When we went shopping for a new bra the
saleslady immediately saw that I had been squeezing into a B-cup
for too long and I was overdue to move up to a bigger cup size.

“Goodness, you’re as big as me now,” my mother said.

It was a lot more comfortable. I knew when I got to school I was
going to be the only girl in my 9th grade class with a C-cup, and
the fact that my blouse was suddenly sticking out another inch
would be noticed. I was a little embarrassed, but also proud.

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but most of the time I secretly
enjoyed it when boys made a big deal about my chest and girls
looked at it enviously. It started in the 7th grade; it has never
let up. I’m still in school — I teach now — and the boys still
devote a generous portion of their classtime to the study of my
mammary glands.

I was a 17 year old non-virgin in those days. I had had sex with 4
different boys, and it hadn’t been particularly great with any of
them, although I had tried maybe a dozen times with the most recent.

I had come once during foreplay in the front seat of a boy’s car
while he rubbed me through my panties, but that was the only time
I had ever come with a boy, and in fact I had only come a few
times while masturbating myself.

The new 34C bra was sensible white cotton underwear. Later, when I
was visiting my best friend Cindy and told her about my new size,
she got really interested and suggested I get a pushup bra and
see if I had cleavage.

As her Mom was a 34C like me, and was out shopping, we snuck into
her bedroom and borrowed one of her pushup bras and I tried it on.
When I looked in the mirror I was impressed with the results. There
was a nice, well-defined cleft between my breasts. I had cleavage.

I was finally a woman. Actually, I had told myself this before when
I had my first period, and then when I lost my virginity, and then
when I had my first orgasm. I had that now I’m really a woman feeling
again when I saw the way my tits looked in that pushup bra.

That was the year I had my first older man. It was a couple of months
later, getting on toward summer vacation. His name was Bruce. He was
the husband of my mother’s old school friend Alice, and they came out
to visit for a long weekend. He was tall, and handsome, and dark-haired.
He had a muscular build, but not like a body-builder, just sort of
tapered.

It was crush at first sight. I had never met him before and something
went *twing* inside me. Miss Pussy woke up and said meow. Alice hugged
me and introduced Bruce and he shook my hand and the touch of his hand
was like being touched by God. He smiled at me and I went weak inside.

Well, everyone was rushing in and out shopping and doing touristy things
and no one paid much attention to me. The first chance I got to talk to
Bruce alone I flirted with him. He drove me somewhere with Alice and
we talked in the car. He was intelligent and charming and nice.

I’m sure Alice noticed that I was dripping for him, but I didn’t care.
She wasn’t giving me any scratch your eyes out signals, although Bruce
told me later that she had threatened to scratch his eyes out if he
messed around with me. I think the fact that everyone except Bruce still
saw me as the little k*d with braces, instead of the girl with the
biggest tits in her class (how could they not notice?), blinded Alice
and my parents to what was going on.

The next morning Bruce was up early and was helping my little brother
play a game on the computer terminal in the den. No sign of Alice or
my parents, so I rushed through a very quick shower and lazily
sauntered into the den where they were playing, wearing nothing but a
towel around my torso and another around my hair.

Bruce could see my legs up to my butt, and a little cleavage peaking out
at the top of my towel. My little brother was too riveted by the game to
pay any attention to me.

I wasn’t wearing my glasses, and this was the first time Bruce had seen
me without them. They tended to make me look a bit owlish, I felt at
the time, and I could see well enough to do anything but read without
them.

I made idle chit-chat with Bruce while he checked me out. I could tell
he knew I was flirting with him, and he didn’t try to hide that he was
admiring my body. I made an excuse to lean over my little brother and
hiked up the towel in back a little more, so that Bruce could see all
the way up to the beginning of my ass. I was not wearing any underwear,
and I did my best to make sure he could tell.

I spent at least half an hour flirting with him and managed to go
upstairs and change without being seen by my parents or his wife. We
couldn’t really say anything in front of my little brother but I could
tell that he liked me and was attracted. I didn’t care about Alice, or
the fact that he was married, in the least.

That night we were all playing a card game and I asked if someone
could drive me to the store, looking straight at Bruce. I was hoping
we could be alone and maybe park somewhere on the way back, and
nature would take its course and he would kiss me (I hoped).

Alice (who had been distracted) said “What is she asking?” and Bruce
said (in a very odd voice) “She wants someone to take her to the store”
in a voice that made it sound like I was a bratty little k*d pestering
everybody, and my Mom looked up and said “What do you need, dear?” and
I flushed and said “Never mind, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

As soon as I could do so I made an excuse and left the table. I was
so self-conscious I felt like a big spotlight was shining on me and
that Alice and my parents and everybody had seen right through my
transparent attempt to get Bruce off alone.

Of course, as I did not realize until later, my Mom and Alice thought
I needed tampons and that that was why I was acting funny and had to
excuse myself, so I was in the clear.

I figured I wasn’t fated to be kissed by Bruce after all, but two days
later I got another chance. My Dad, Mom and sister went to church and
Alice went with them, while Bruce slept in. Mom leaned in my doorway
(I was still in bed) and told me they were going and asked me to make
Bruce some breakfast when he got up. She gave me this look, like don’t
you try anything, but I guess she wasn’t very worried about it.

So they all drove off except for Bruce and my little brother, and then
I heard the door slam as my little brother went off to play with his
friends down the block. He shouted that he was going over to Jimmy’s or
whatever the k*d’s name was, and I was pretty certain he would be gone
for a couple of hours. So Bruce and I were alone at last, and I hadn’t
done anything to bring it about. Thank you God, I said to myself.

I quickly got out of bed and made myself pretty. I was still in my
pajamas and I decided to just lose the pajama bottom and show my legs,
so off it came. My pajama top came down far enough to almost cover my
butt. I was not wearing a bra, and I pinched my nipples to make them
stand out through my top.

Then I went in and woke up Bruce.

He was asleep. He was covered up to his chest by a blanket and was
wearing a t-shirt. I stood at the edge of the fold-out bed, and poked
him. He rubbed his eyes and woke up, and I giggled at him.

He could see see my thighs all the way up to my underpants. I had checked
myself out in the mirror and I knew what he was seeing — my fat pussy
mound was bulging out in my tight panties. I had been having a growth
spurt down there in my ass/hips/pussy region, and the old mons veneris
was clearly outlined.

Bruce didn’t notice at first, as he was waking up and rubbing the sleep
of his eyes. I turned on a lamp.

He did notice then. He got a good look at my plump thighs and my tight
underpants and my braless chest.

I climbed on top of him in the bed, straddling him, and rubbed his
scratchy beard growth playfully and said “Get up, sleepyhead. I’m
supposed to get you some breakfast.”

“Where is everybody?”

“They’ve all gone to church, except for my brother, and he’s gone out
to play, so we’re all alone.” Hint, hint. I couldn’t make it any
plainer than that.

He took the hint. He had a big smiling grin on his face and he tousled
my hair and said, “Alright then, why don’t you make some breakfast. I’ll
go wash my face and come down in a minute.” I was sorry he didn’t grab me
then — we were only alone for a couple of hours and time was wasting —
but I went downstairs and he quickly shaved and splashed some water on
his face and combed his hair and came down.

On the way I ducked into my room and grabbed a very tight tank-top t-shirt
with a really low cut neckline and put it on under my pajama top, and then
opened the top 2 or 3 buttons on my top. Then I said what the hell, and
opened all of them except the last button.

I started breakfast — nothing complicated since I couldn’t cook much and
didn’t want to waste any of our time on food. I was leaning over the
stove, and when Bruce came in I bent way over to get something I didn’t
really need out of a low cabinet, in order to show off my panty-clad ass.

“Breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes,” I said, clearing my throat, and
turned around to smile at him. He was leaning against the doorway and he
was still in his underwear. His top was just a tight t-shirt, which showed
off his fine chest muscles, and his underpants –. Well. His underpants
were just a jock strap. I didn’t even know what it was called, although I
had seen one before. It was what guys wore in the locker room, I knew. It
didn’t leave much to the imagination.

He had big, muscular legs, and strong thighs. His legs were just slightly
hairy, but not really hairy if you know what I mean. And he had a big
cylindrical bulge in his jock strap. It looked like he had a flashlight
in there or something. If boys had cup sizes in their underwear he would
definitely have been a D-cup.

He stood there in the doorway like he was posing for me, which he was.
I could see his big heavy balls outlined in his underwear. He had clearly
just gotten up and he was just as decent as I was, I guess, since I was
standing there with my underpants showing too.

I stared at him and then I wanted him to come closer so I could get a
better look, all thoughts of allowing him to get a better look at me
forgotten. I wished I had my glasses on.

“We have a few minutes while the water boils,” I said. “Why don’t you come
in the living room?” I walked past him through the doorway and brushed
his arm with my hand as I passed, and he followed me. I sat down on the
floor, on the Persian rug, sitting crosslegged so that my panties were
plainly visible.

Bruce sat on the floor across from me, one leg doubled up, with his crotch
against the carpet and the big bulge in his white cotton underwear sticking
out where I could see it perfectly well. I casually stretched out one leg
and spread my thighs wider to expose more of the crotch of my panties,
hoping that they were tight enough that my pussy would be outlined. I was
trying to give him a good eyeful.

His eyes flicked from my face down to my panties and back again, and
he bit his lower lip in a sort of rueful boyish way. I was keeping an
eye on his briefs while trying to watch him checking out mine, and I
noticed that the sexy bulge in his jock strap jerked a little.

I pretended to yawn and stretch, fluffing my hair and thrusting my bust
out as far as I could, the way I’d practiced in front of the mirror. My
shirt could barely contain my braless tits, the big masses shifting
around inside my t-shirt as I stretched.

I looked and saw his bulge twitch again. It was getting bigger as I
watched. And bigger.

I was fascinated. There was clearly some kind of hydraulics involved
and it reminded me of the time I visited a horse farm and watched a
stallion getting ready to service a mare. When he got a whiff of the
mare’s pussy (she was in season) this big long thing suddenly just
*grew* between his legs, shooting out like a length of fire hose and
stiffening into a long pole the size of a baseball bat. If my friend
Brenda hadn’t been there I would have reached out and touched it, to
feel what it felt like. It wasn’t until years later that I realized
that she had probably felt the stallion’s erection herself, when no
one was around to see, and I could have just asked.

I f****d myself to stop staring at Bruce’s erection, and looked at
his face. He was flushed, or maybe he was blushing. I couldn’t decide.
I was as cool as a cucumber, because I knew exactly what I wanted. He
was the one who was nervous.

We made small talk about something inconsequential and I made playful
reference to how big and strong he was and asked if I could feel his
muscles, and then I crawled up next to him and felt them. He smelled
good, up close. Or maybe it was just our hormones. While I squeezed
his big muscles and giggled I felt my pussy starting to get excited
and swollen.

He was making dry, mocking little jokes at me and wasn’t starting
anything. I decided I would have to do something to get the ball rolling,
so I sort of dared him to wrestle me, by asking if he thought he was
strong enough to pin me down. Well, we mock-wrestled for a minute and
I flipped over and wriggled out of his grasp, slippery as an eel.

He grabbed me and rolled back, so that I fell across his chest, and
I reached down to grab his leg and as I did so my hand accidentally
brushed against his crotch and I felt his bulge. Ohmigod, it was big
and hard and warm. I didn’t touch it on purpose and I was mortified
thinking that he might think I had.

While I was still trying to get my breath back and stop blushing after
my accidental grope he flipped me over, and then all of a sudden there
I was lying pinned on my back, and he was on top of me. His hands were
pinning my shoulders down and his thighs were pressing against mine,
and I could feel that big jock strap thing pressing against my tummy.

As he held me down and I giggled and shrieked and I felt his big bulge
touching me, he slowly began sliding down until I could feel his warm
erection rubbing my timid muff right through my panties.

He had me pinned down, and my now unbuttoned pajama top had fallen away
to the sides. My firm young breasts were perfectly outlined by my tight
t-shirt with my hard nipples sticking up like thimbles. He looked at
them, and looked at me, and I was breathing hard and without a word he
slowly rubbed his full jock strap against me, through my panties.

I could feel his big hard banana in there. He had a full, rock hard
erection now. I was getting moist down there, and the little man in
the boat was going to be afloat pretty soon. I spread my thighs apart
and he just sort of fell in between them, with his thing laying right
in my groove and bumping my clit.

“You are so strong,” I said (once I got my breath), since with only two
thin layers of cotton separating our genitals we were still pretending
that we were just wrestling, and that the fact that our things were
rubbing against each other was just an accident. “Why don’t you take
that t-shirt off so I can see how big your muscles are?”

“Okay”, he said. He took his hands off me for a minute and I tried to
break free, without success. Then he stripped off his top and I could
see his big shoulders and his brawny chest.

“Oh my. You’re so manly,” I teased. What a hunk, I was thinking, as I
admired his gorgeous body. He was now entirely naked except for his
jock strap. My pussy was very excited. I don’t think it had ever dripped
this hot and wet for any male before. I could feel a damp wet spot in
my panties and I wondered if he could smell my lubrication.

“Now it’s your turn. You have to take your shirt off so I can see your
muscles,” he laughed.

“Let me sit up,” I said, and when he did I took off the pajama shirt,
in a teasing, strip-tease sort of way.

He took in the way my tight little undershirt stretched over my tits
and smiled and licked his lips. I tugged the shirt down taut to show
my cleavage, and since he was watching with a big smile I smirked at
him and teased him by pulling it down tight even farther, a couple more
inches. I had about four inches of cleavage showing, and if I went any
farther my nipple would pop out. I leaned forward with my arms pinning
my breasts together, and the chasm between my tits was like a canyon.

“How’s that?” I teased in a soft, sultry voice.

“It’s no fair,” he laughed. “You’ve got another shirt on underneath.
You have to take off that one, too.”

“Noooo! I can’t,” I giggled.

“Why not? I took off mine and showed you my chest,” he said with a grin.

“Because then you could see my –” dramatic pause — “breasts.” I was
looking him in the eyes and kind of daring him to go farther.

“What breasts, you little tomboy?”

“The breasts you’ve been staring at. For god’s sake, I’m not even
wearing a bra. You can see everything.”

“I think I’ll have a look for myself,” he said. Then he jokingly grabbed
my t-shirt and started to peel it off. I fought back as ineffectively as I
could, and let him win. As I let him strip it off I shrieked and covered
my naked tits with my hands, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You can’t see them. No.” I said.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied. He started wrestling with me again,
and he pushed me back down and got on top of me, as I defended my breasts.
Then he firmly peeled my hands off my chest and pinned them back, and my
creamy jugs were naked to his gaze.

He took in my titties appreciatively. “That’s a big pair of breasts
you have there, Jenny.”

“Thank you.” I blushed. Probably only 8 or 9 boys had ever seen them, and
he was the first grown man other than a doctor or my father (by accident).

“You’re bigger than Alice, I think.” Alice wore padded bras and even
with the padding she wasn’t as big as me.

“Yes, I think so.” (Touch them! I tried to telepath at him.)

“What do the boys call you at school?”

I blushed furiously. “They used to call me The Bosom. That started
in the 7th grade. Some of them call me W.W., which is short for
Windshield Wipers.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard them called headlights, but I’ve
never heard them called windshield wipers before.”

“It’s because of my last name, Wanshel. Get it? Kids have been calling
me “Windshield” since I was in elementary school, and when these things
started growing on my chest they decided they were my windshield wipers.”

“I take it you were bigger than the other girls.”

“Yes. I was probably the only girl in the 7th grade who needed a real
bra instead of a training bra. One of the girls used to take the
locker next to mine so she could stare. She asked me what I did to
make them grow so big.”

“And are they still growing?”

“Of course. I just moved up to a C-cup,” I said proudly. “I’ll
probably be a D before I graduate, and I hope it levels off then,
because DD would be just too big.” (As it happened, I got my
wish and did level off at a D-cup size, a few years later.)

“You’ve got nice big nipples, too. Are they always that hard?”

“Oh, they’re not that hard.” They were so hard they hurt, actually.

Holding both of my hands with one of his he tweaked my nipples with
his free hand, and I almost died. It was like heaven feeling him
touch me there. I think I must have turned red in the face and gasped.
He was breathing hard too.

“Oh, god. Nobody ever touched me like that before,” I said.

“I don’t believe it. I bet a few boys have felt them.”

“Well, maybe a few.” It didn’t feel like the times I got groped before,
at all, except maybe for the first time I felt a boy’s hand under my
bra, which was a big surprise — not just having a hand there, but that
it felt good. “I’m not very sexually experienced. You can touch them
some more, if you want.” He fully intended to, anyway.

He stroked them softly, and my mouth fell open and I panted out loud
at the intoxicating sensation of his big masculine hands making love
to my breasts. After stroking them for a bit he began to squeeze and
knead them, and it felt wonderful and sexy. My nipples stuck out farther
than I knew they could.

Meanwhile, things were gushing right along down in the crotch area.
He was lying between my legs again (guess I must have opened them)
and he had started this slow sliding up and down motion, along my groove,
and my panties were getting soaked. In fact they were really slippery
as my vagina seemed to be drooling and he was slipping right up and down
in my slot.

I had been humping back against him rhythmically without even realizing
it, and now I started to do it deliberately, because it felt good.

I reached behind him and touched his ass. His jock strap left most of
his gorgeous buttocks uncovered and I couldn’t resist clutching them
while he pawed my tits. I got two handfuls of his magnificent butt and
pulled him in tight as he thrust.

My clit was sticking out hard in my panties, between the lips of my
engorged and inflamed pussy. His whole length was rubbing it as
we humped against each other. It was driving me wild.

Then he put his hand down and stroked me from my knees up the length
of my plump thighs all the way to my clit, and I nearly came right
then. I gasped a little.

So this is what adult sex is really like, I thought. Not like that
unsatisfying sticky fumbling in Mike Barnard’s basement, when he shot
come all over my dress, or the painful experience I had letting an
older boy break my tight little cherry on the ratty old couch in his
basement rec room, one day after school. This was the real thing, a
man and a woman.

If this kept up I was going to experience the ecstasy that I had read
about in books. I first learned about orgasms from a smutty Harold Robbins
novel I found hidden in my Mom’s closet, which I read while sitting in a
pile of shoes, right there in her closet with the door closed, fondling
myself under my pleated skirt during the good parts. When the spoiled,
frigid American rich girl got her clothes ripped off by the virile
Italian peasant and her naked boobies gleamed in the moonlight and he
f****d himself on her until she gasped “yes” and had her big O, I had my
first big O too, masturbating in that stuffy little walk-in closet until
it happened, two weeks after my 14th birthday.

I wanted to get fucked like the women in books. I looked at Bruce and I
couldn’t form the words “fuck me please” with my mouth, but I thought
them. I put my lips to his ear but I couldn’t say it. My mouth was dry,
my heart was pounding in my chest, and nothing came out but a moan and
a little whimper.

I guess he knew what I wanted, because he rolled off me and in one swift
move he grabbed my underpants by the waistband and peeled them right off.
I had to scoot my bottom up a bit to let him accomplish this, so I guess
he knew at that point that I was cooperating and I was not going to cry
r**e. I was only 15 and he was over 30 so it was statutory r**e anyway,
but I doubt I realized that then.

My naked chestnut-brown muff lay open to his gaze. I crossed my legs
tightly and covered my pubic hair with my hands, squealing “oh, no!”
and again he peeled my hands off and got between my legs and spread
them apart.

And then I quit pretending to fight him and shyly spread them out
wider, so he could do what he was going to do.

He was kneeling there between my arched, spread legs and I saw his jock
strap again. And I didn’t even know to be impressed by what I saw,
because his dick was sticking right out of the top of his briefs and it
was huge. It looked twice the size of the dicks on the boys I had been
with. The head was big and thick around and sort of plum colored, and
the shaft was reddish, down to where it disappeared into his strap.

And then he peeled off his strap and let it hang out, and it sort of
jumped out with a spring and hung dangling in the air between his
thighs. It was too damn big and heavy to stand up straight. It was the
biggest penis I had ever seen.

I’ve only been with four or five really big-dicked, well-hung men in my
life, and he was the first. I honestly did not have any idea that there
was such a thing as a big penis, except on a horse. I didn’t have any
idea what I was supposed to do. This may hurt a little, I thought.

Miss Pussy did not register a protest by clamping up and going dry, so
I guess it didn’t scare her. It was beautiful to look at. It was
perfectly tapered and molded, hard and flaming pink, with a graceful
helmet curving into a faint slit at the end.

His big penis seemed to be looming over me and I reached out my hand
and touched it. It was hard and velvety. It twitched and I jerked my
hand back in surprise.

I wondered how it could possibly fit in me and I remembered an expression
I heard a girl at camp use once, “like fitting a two by four through a
keyhole”.

He leaned forward and started to rub the head of the big shaft against
my slot, and I sort of went “oooh” and closed my eyes and started to
drift away. So this is womanhood, I thought. I am about to get fucked
by a big-dicked man.

I decided that all adult males must be that size, since I had only
been with boys before. I was surprised and not a little disappointed
later to discover that this was not the case.

Bruce continued to pet my pussy luxuriously while he put his mouth on
my breasts and sucked. I was sensitive and tender there, and it was
like lightning hit my nipples. His tongue flicked across my breasts
and lapped up the sides of my nipples.

He continued to stroke my cunt alternately with his hand and his
dick, warming my clit up to the point where I thought I would go
crazy. I felt the big smooth shaft slipping past the mouth of my
wet hole. My pussy was sucking wetly at it, trying to suck him in.

He played with my breasts and reached around and fondled my ass and
our bodies writhed and entwined and we rutted against each other.

Just when I thought I would go mad if I had to wait any longer for him
to put it in, he kneeled back so that he was between my legs with the
head of his dick against me, and started to put it in.

I felt his hard knob touch the rim of my hole. My pussy lips were spread,
my hole was gaping eagerly open as far as an inexperienced schoolgirl’s
hole could gape, and I could feel my juices drooling into my crack and
running down my ass, but the knob on the end of his dick was wider than
my hole.

It was a tight fit. It didn’t want to go in at first, but we both wanted
it to go in. I wanted him to get it inside me as much as I had ever
wanted anything in my life. So with a little straining and grunting —
“Is this okay?” he asked — “Yes! Go ahead!” I panted — the head
started to go in a little further on each try.

At first maybe only a quarter of an inch went in, then I stretched a
little and maybe half an inch of the head went in. If my parents come
home before he gets it in I’ll die, I thought.

I lay back and rested the soles of my feet on his thighs, to open
myself up more. Just like at the gynecologist with my feet in the
stirrups. He grabbed my hips with his hands and pulled me against
him, which was a deliciously heady sensation but didn’t get him
in any deeper. I reached down with my hand and held his dick
and tried to guide it into me. It was very hard, and so thick
around that my hand would not go around it.

I think we got a better angle at that point, or something, because it
did slip in further, and I felt this big stretchy thing invading me,
like the way it felt when I lost my cherry at the ripe young age of 12.
Then I leaned back and relaxed and let him do it, and after a little
while of poking back and forth I felt the head slip all the way in.

Once the head was in the rest should have been easy, since I was not a
virgin, but it was so damn big. I didn’t say “Oh, you’re so big” while
we were were doing this because I assumed he was normal and I was just
an inexperienced, tight little girl who had been fooling around with
adolescent boys in the training bra stage of penis development. I was
only 15 and I really didn’t know any better.

Now that he had the knob past the first barrier he was able to stroke
in and out a little, just the first inch or so, and I was stretching
a bit wider to accommodate him. It was uncomfortable at first, like
if you open your mouth as wide as you can to try to swallow something
too big for it — that’s what it feels like.

I was worried about my parents coming home but we had all the time
in the world. I had forgotten about the water boiling away on the
stove, but there was no harm done except to the finish on the pot,
fortunately.

Bruce proceeded slowly and tenderly, taking his time, not forcing it,
letting me open up and take more of him in.

I wanted him to fuck me and he smelled so sexy. My first grown man.
I felt like I was in love. He went in and out of the first inch of
my pussy for a while, and when I opened up a little more he went
in deeper. And then I was getting stroked with two inches. This went
on inch by inch, and I went back and forth between moments of painful
discomfort and near ecstasy.

When I felt him stretching the walls of my vagina I began to wonder
if a girl my age getting herself fucked by a grown man was such a
good idea.

I was afraid he was going to tear me and I would b***d, but I didn’t
want him to stop. I looked at his big dick when it popped out and the
wetness glistening on it was just my natural juices, no b***d, so I
relaxed.

I wonder today at Bruce’s staying power in my tight teenage twat. He
was a married man and I guess he had had plenty of practice, because
he was able to keep it up and keep going until I was finally relaxed
and open all the way and he went in as far as he could. I didn’t know
if he was bottoming out at the bottom of my pussy, or if he was at the
end of his seemingly endless dick, but he was finally in me up to the
hilt.

That big thing hadn’t split me in half after all.

He lay on me, breathing hard, and I wrapped my legs around him and
hugged him in triumph. Big girl, with a big man inside her.

Then he finally kissed me. I had been waiting for it and his mouth was
finally on mine. Our kiss was long and sweet, and I pushed my tongue
into his mouth and he pushed his tongue into mine and we sucked hungrily
at each other. It was like our faces were clamped together.

He lay still inside me and my pussy adjusted to his size. His hairy
groin rutted against mine gently and bumped my clitoris in a very nice
way. I felt his big balls tickling my ass, and reached down to feel them.
They were like two eggs in a sack.

“Are you ready?” he said, raising himself on his hands and peeling
our sticky, sweaty bodies slightly apart.

“Ready for what?” I asked. I did have the vague feeling that since
I hadn’t even known how big adult men’s penises were there might be
something coming I needed to be ready for.

“This,” he said.

And then he pulled himself almost all the way out of my pussy, till I
could feel his plummy head spreading my lips, and then slowly pushed
all the way back in. And then he went all the way in and back out again,
and proceeded to fuck me in and out, slowly and gently. (Oh, ready for
that, I thought.)

His big dick slid up and down in my pussy, smooth and sweet. It was like
a velvet piledriver. I lay back, spread my legs and enjoyed it. It felt
so strong and powerful inside me. I started to fuck him back, hesitantly
at first, pushing my pubic mound up to meet him on the down strokes.

He pulled my legs up so that my ankles were next to my ears, resting
against his shoulders, and he pulled my ass up to him and slid in really
deep, and banged me in the cervix. Ow! I told him to stop and we went
back to missionary position.

He resumed his slow, rhythmic humping of my soft pussy and kissed me
while we fucked.

We went on fucking like that for a while and it felt better and
better and we kissed some more and he played with my breasts. I
was beginning to wonder if I might even have an orgasm, after all.

As I got more relaxed and into it he slowly increased his speed and
strength, fucking me harder and faster.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Fuck me hard, darling.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” (He called me sweetheart!)

“You’re not hurting me. It’s wonderful.”

He fucked harder. This big male stud was fucking my brains out. I
closed my eyes, and as he rode me I fantasized that he was a horse, a
big black stallion, that had mounted me, and I was a frightened little
mare feeling him go deep, deep inside her. I was making little
shivering noises in my throat and trembling as we made love.

Our bodies were locked tightly together and I felt like I was starting
to sweat like a pig. Mother always said “a lady doesn’t sweat, she
glows”, so I guess I was glowing like a lady.

Not only had I never been with a boy with a dick this big, I
had never been with one who had real staying power and stamina.
I figured later that he must have been inside me, pumping in and
out continuously as we fucked on the floor, for over half an hour.

That was a record for me. Two boys had come in my hand before they
even got in, and two minutes seemed about the standard once you
got a boy inside you, if you were lucky.

It was the first time I had screwed on a floor. I was getting
rugburns on my ass and didn’t realize it until later, when it hurt.

Bruce was pounding into me like a jackhammer now, breathing hard and
grunting. I was grunting and squealing with my heels in the air. I
could barely walk straight afterward, but at that moment it was heaven.

I was making noise, whimpering things like “Yes, Bruce, yes! Oh god,
yes, oh god. More. Don’t stop! Fuck me.” I had noticed in books that
the woman was supposed to say things like this when a man had sex
with her, and moan a lot. The moans were coming without any effort
as he was opening up places inside me where no man had gone before
(as Captain Kirk used to say).

His big shaft kept plowing into me, stroke after stroke after stroke.
I was humping back hard with my pussy without even thinking about it,
raising my ass a little above the floor, fucking him back as hard as
I could.

Oh god, that big dick of his. I get swoony just thinking about it,
even today. I was not even trying to come, I was just fucking on
automatic pilot without even thinking about it.

After longer than I had known sex could last, I gradually began to
get that feeling down there that I did not yet know very well, like
something was going to happen, like a sneeze or needing to pee or
something swelling to bursting. It was coming closer and closer, and
I knew what was coming and I couldn’t stop it even if I had wanted to.

Part of me was saying “no, not yet, wait, wait, hold back” to the
explosion that I felt coming on, and then I couldn’t stop it from
going off any longer and it burst, gloriously.

I said “OH! OMIGOD! OH!!!” very loudly, not really a scream, and
clamped my legs and arms around him very hard and panted into his
shoulder and he kept fucking me steadily and I just came and came.

It was not a multiple orgasm. It was one long drawn-out orgasm,
with peaks and valleys, that kept going even higher each time it
crested. I honestly thought I might faint if he didn’t stop, and
he didn’t stop. God, it was wonderful. It was only the fifth or
sixth orgasm I had had in my life and it was far and away the best,
then and for years afterward. My pussy was throbbing and spasming so
hard that tears were coming to my eyes.

The earth moved, the heavens opened, and if space aliens had picked
that moment to blow up the world, it wouldn’t have seemed very
important.

It took a few minutes for me to come back to earth. When I calmed
down and got my breath back I started stroking him gently with my
hands, my wonderful stallion lover, and he was kissing me and
kissing my breasts and stroking my thighs, and I gently floated down
from my cloud. I felt like a new girl.

“I need to go put on a condom,” he whispered. (If you think he might
have noticed that I had had what was virtually a religious experience,
and that I was no longer the little girl who had shown him her boobs
an hour before, you obviously have little experience with men.)

I wanted to feel him come inside me, but I was also afraid to get
pregnant, so I said “Okay” (feebly — if he had wanted to come in me
I would have let him, and worried about the consequences later. I was
not in my right mind) and he pulled all the way out of me with a big
wet splort! sound and made record time running upstairs to get a
condom out of his suitcase. He came back and rolled it on while I
watched in amazement (how did that tiny rubber thing fit over such a
great big penis?) and I lay back and put my arms around him and we
went back to fucking.

He started off with a steady, regular stroke and as he got closer to
his orgasm he went wild and started pounding me like a madman, holding
his weight off me with his hands on the carpet while his dick hammered
me like crazy. He was thrusting furiously, banging me across the floor
with my hair flailing.

I had a mini-orgasm and another, my pussy triggering as he thrust,
and then I felt his orgasm as he impaled me deep and his big throbbing
dick gushed into me, deep inside me. I was wrapped so tight around him
that I felt him coming like it was me, as his big thing swelled even
bigger and then shot the condom full of sperm.

I wanted to feel his wet sticky stuff inside me, shooting into my
little womb, but it was not to be. He shuddered and collapsed on me in
sweaty disarray, and I kissed and caressed him as he came. It took
about a minute for him to be done.

Then, of course, we peeled ourselves apart again, and he went and
flushed the condom down the toilet, and we got dressed and had
breakfast.

I had kept my pajama top under my ass while we were fucking so I
wouldn’t leave a wet spot on the rug, but there was a little faint
damp spot on the rug anyway, in a dark part of the pattern where
it didn’t show. I did my best to get it out, and sprayed the room
with air freshener.

We didn’t talk about it much before our respective families got
home. I couldn’t say what I was thinking — I’m only half your
age, you’re married and I love you — and I couldn’t imagine what
he was thinking. When we heard the car in the driveway he gave me
one long sweet kiss, and then we went back to being on a formal basis.

They flew back home the next day. I didn’t dare write him or anything.
He didn’t dare write or call me, if he wanted to, and I didn’t know
if he did. My teenage head had been completely blown by that titanic
orgasm. I gradually realized (after crying my eyes out on Cindy’s
shoulder several times) that he was a happily married man who lived
far away and that I had to put him out of my mind.

After that I had some kind of a thing about older men for a while,
and attempted a couple of unsuccessful seductions. I had just had
beginner’s luck with Bruce. It was a long time before I saw him
again.