“Do you remember the first time you came?” She looked up at him from between his knees, her tank top low enough for him to see right between her breasts to her belly.

“That was such a long, long time ago…I don’t think so.”

“How old do you think you were?” She smiled and began curling her hair around her index finger, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner to encourage his response.

“Young.”

“How young?”

“Maybe 12?”

“Yah…I think I was, too.”

“Tell me about it…” His Cheshire-cat grin showed how happy he was he’d turned the questioning around on her.

But her feathers were far from ruffled by the change of direction, “I’ll do better than that…I’ll show you…” And she leaned back, spread her legs, and slipped her hand down the front of her shorts.

“I was lying on the floor by the side of my bed so I’d be shielded from view if someone opened the door. I’d gotten hold of one of my father’s Playboy magazines, and something about looking at all of those glamorized pussies just made things tingle in a way I hadn’t felt before. I had to get my hands on myself. I had to touch it, to explore it, to figure out what the held that thing could do. It was almost as if my cunt was magnetized and my fingers were drawn to it.”

She closed her eyes as she entered the memory. Her fingers searching her folds, his eyes unblinking.

“I was afraid to take off any clothes, in case someone walked in. I didn’t know what I’d say if someone caught me, literally, with my pants down. But, I needed better access, and I wanted to see my own cunt next to the ones on the glossy pages. So, I risked it. I pushed the magazine near the edge of the bed, so I could shove it under quickly if necessary. And I slid out of my shorts…like this.”

She pulled her shorts and underwear down over her knees, down to her ankles.

“I kept them here, so I could pull them up quickly if needed. I spread my lips and really looked at myself for the first time.”

She spread herself, glanced down, and looked up at him. He smiled, but said nothing, his silence urging her to continue.

“I opened the magazine to a close-up photo of a woman’s cunt and looked back and forth at myself and the photo. I noticed she had more folds, and seemed stretched in some way. So, I began to stretch myself. I noticed the bulging head of her clit, red and swollen. So, I touched mine and sent a dull shock through myself. I kept touching it, pushing a bit harder each time, then circling.”

Her movements matched her narration, as she visually and verbally walked him into her mind.

“I licked my finger and began to explore lower. The photo showed a darkness, the entrance…more pronounced by experience than mine, and having never touched it like this before, I was nervous. But the closer I got, the more my body cried out for me to push my finger inside.”

He was visibly hardening as he watched her lick her finger and slowly slide it into her cunt.

“I held it inside for a few seconds, moving it gently and slowly, and then I began to push it in and pull it out rhythmically.”

She lay back, her knees up and parted wide, one hand spreading her lips, the other furtively stroking and fucking her now glistening pussy.

“I noticed the heat, and the wetness. I thought I was wetting myself at first, but it felt so good, I kept going despite the fear. I managed to stimulate my clit and finger-fuck myself until I was shuddering and pulsing, my muscles contracting around my fingers, now dripping with my come.”

On the floor, in front of him, she fucked herself until she came, red heat climbing up her belly, across her breasts, up her neck, and over her cheeks.

“I pulled up my shorts, hid the magazine quickly under my mattress, and ran to the bathroom to wash my face. I was so afraid that someone would know. That they’d smell it on me.”

She rolled back onto her knees, reached her hand up to him, and waved her fingers under his nose.

“It’s a beautiful fragrance on you,” he said.

This has been a Wicked Wednesday post.  Head on over to see who else is being Wicked.

15 Replies to “The Sweetest Perfume”

  1. I wish I could remember my youth with such clarity. Unfortunately, I liberally fill in the gaps, change names and settings – my memory is so horribly flawed, sometimes I don't know what's real and what isn't. But, I can say – this was total fiction.

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