He laid me across his lap, face down, as we sat in front of the television. Two college-age kids, staying at my parent’s house over the holidays, left to our own devices and privacy, but not allowed to sleep in the same room. So we figured out a way to discreetly be “naughty” without anyone knowing. In the dark, by the light of the flickering screen, I lay beneath a blanket, my breasts slightly squeezed between his thighs, and he slipped his hand down the back of my pants, peeling them down enough for me to spread my legs. He played with my clit, slid his fingers around the outer lips, spread them, and eventually, after he had me good and wet, he slipped a finger inside.
We said little, our eyes glued to the television, keeping up appearances in case anyone walked in. And I bit my lip repeatedly to keep quiet.
It took quite awhile. Back then I was hard to get off…in fact – I’d only had orgasms by my own hand. Sure I’d had sex…but no one had actually brought me all the way home.
For some reason, probably the angle, and the amount of time he was willing to put in, slowly teasing and playing and just generally getting me as wet as possible, I managed to hit that point that told me – this might actually happen. So, I let down my guard a bit. I’d always faked orgasms with him…for a number of reasons, but mostly because I loved him and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I figured I’d get there eventually. And the sex was fun even without the orgasms, so I didn’t feel like I was being cheated really.
He slipped in two fingers and rubbed my clit with his thumb. I raised my ass to meet him, pressing into his hand and rising onto my knees a bit, giving him better access and myself a more effective position.
He increased the speed and intensity, and my breathing was evidence enough that it was working.
As I felt the tightening begin, my pussy clenching around his fingers and my clit swelling with heat, I bit into his leg to contain my scream. I wasn’t yet capable of the messy orgasms I am now, so I didn’t come all over the place…but it was a definite orgasm, and my face flushed not only with release, but with relief and contentedness. I was 19. And I’d just had my first orgasm with a man. Well, technically a man’s hand. But let’s not be too critical here. It was a beautiful moment – that led to a few more occasional orgasms that I didn’t have to fake.
Hey, we all have to start somewhere.
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