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I had my first apartment in a crappy little complex full of enlisted men and their wives, divorced moms with kids, and people who thought it was a good idea to start the day drinking beer on the front porch. It was a shithole but it was my first shithole and I was excited to be on my own after high school, working and saving for whatever I figured out to do next. I had a lot of opportunity to save because my only girlfriend was at the end of my arm.
I first made friends with the couple in the apartment above me, Bart and Lana. At first I felt kind of sorry for Bart because he was a pretty good-looking guy (a sergeant in the Army, by the way) and Lana seemed like a cow to me. In reality I suppose she wasn’t that fat, just well-rounded, you might say. But since my standard for women came entirely from Penthouse and late night cable, a regular sort of woman like Lana seemed as big as a bus. Not that Bart seemed to mind. He was some kind of technician and tended to be gone for days at a time, and I could always tell when he came back, the walls and ceiling were thin enough that I could pretty much hear everything.
With Bart being gone and me working nights, Lana and I got to be friendly during the day, and it wasn’t long before it just became part of my routine to drop in on her first thing in the morning, or for her to come downstairs and see me. And pretty soon, between seeing her every day and jerking off at night listening to them thrashing about, my views about the desirability of a woman shaped like Lana started to change. I certainly thought more and more about her as I got to see more and more of her that summer– she had no problem wearing loose or short clothes that gave me a pretty good idea of what was underneath them.
One day it might be a sundress which her breasts moved freely inside, so that I might imagine coming up behind her, nuzzling my face in her flowing red curls, slipping my hands in under the armholes and grabbing those big swaying globes (I read a lot of Penthouse so breasts were always “globes”). Another day she might wear a white undershirt (bra underneath, but not enough of one to prevent a little nipple impression) and short shorts which would show lots of creamy white thigh running up to that intersection of tummy roll and crotch, and the mysterious (red, I assumed) world inside.
One day I was startled to find her sunbathing in a bright fuchsia bikini, her big globes seeming extending a foot as they rolled to either side, soft chest flesh in between, then that broad tummy, a huge but soft and smooth white tummy you could lose yourself on for days. Below that another fuchsia hands-off sign, then long strong thighs supporting a big heart-shaped butt, the bikini bottom sucked into the crack when she turned over. For the first time that day, too, I noticed her feet, little pink toes on a fat foot. I was surprised that night that it was those feet I kept thinking off as I beat my cock furiously.
In retrospect, of course, Lana was putting on a show for me, but I was too naive to realize it. I just figured she had no idea that there was anything to notice about a married woman being half-naked in a different way every day for the 18-year-old boy downstairs. Over time, too, our conversations got more intimate. First she’d just make offhand comments about being a little sore from the night before, or expecting Bart that night “and I better be ready for a workout.” Soon she was asking me if I had any girlfriends (the closest I got was a girl at the restaurant I bussed at who, if things went well between us, I might actually ask out in six or seven months). As she asked me about her she raised one leg up on the chair, hiking her shorts up so that I could practically see where her thigh met her crotch. Somehow I managed to keep my mind on the girl I was talking about and not the one who was inviting me to see if I could spot curly red hairs.
Bart had a two-week training session out west somewhere, and as the first week went by and he was gone longer our conversations got more and more heated– at least for me. She made a comment about “keeping herself happy when I go to sleep, but it’s not the same as having Bart here” and when I looked startled– actually, I was quite amazed she had said such a thing– she said “You’re 18 years old, you can’t tell me you don’t masturbate. At least I hope you do, otherwise you’d be missing one of the main pleasures in life.”
I tried to sort of avoid the topic, but she kept pushing me– and as she did she reached for a bottle of suntan lotion and started rubbing it on her chest, that soft spongy area that promised the feel of the big round breasts to either side, hands disappearing under the straps to that mysterious place I so badly wanted to go. “Every guy does it, and any girl with any sense. You can’t tell me that you don’t think about that Candy or whatever her name is at the restaurant and get yourself off. I think about Bart every night when he’s gone… among other things.”
I still didn’t get it, I guess I just didn’t illegal bahis have the self-esteem to realize she was seriously talking about me. I imagined it at night, God knows, jerking off twice, waking up thinking about her and doing it again to get myself enough relief that I could get to sleep. I imagined her on top of me, her weight smashing me down, her red curls in my face, her big round ass grinding away on top of me. But I still couldn’t believe that she was coming on to me, even though she was as obvious as a freight train barreling down the tracks at me.
About three days before Bart was due back, we were at her place shooting the breeze (not about sex for a change) when UPS showed up with a package. “Oh good, it’s my welcome back to Bart,” she said as she came back into the apartment. “Do you want to see? I think it’s not so revealing that I can’t model it for you.”
Did I want to see? Are you fucking nuts? Another electric jolt through me as my friendship with Lana got intimate enough for intimate apparel. She went off into the bedroom and came back in a moment, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.
It was a white nightie, sheer and trimmed with chiffon, the perfect shade for her creamy skin and fiery red hair. It was true, it didn’t show anything that the bikini hadn’t shown– there was solid satin where decency required. But it hinted at it all so much more enticingly than the bikini did. Her creamy white thighs disappeared into a chiffony cloud. The chiffon billowed around her big butt, revealing the way her haunches shifted under the satin as she twirled around for me. And with each step, I saw nipples sliding under the satin as her big round globes moved freely, swayed hypnotically. “You think I can get laid in this?” she said, standing just inches from me and, I finally realized, inviting me.
I stood up. Her eyes indicated that I was welcome. I put my arms around her hips, still afraid to touch where I really wanted to grab her. She had no such qualms, and grabbed my ass and pulled me into her as we bounced against the wall. Our lips came together and I immediately felt her slippery tongue probing places in my mouth. She moved my right hand up to her breast and I started squeezing it, unsure how hard I should do it, but thrilled at last to be feeling those fat, heavy tits.
She kept me doing that but suddenly her mouth moved away from mine. “I– I have to tell you something,” she said, and a sinking feeling told me I wasn’t getting laid today. I kept reaching for what I could feel before I was cut off, however. “I can only do this with Bart,” she said.
I tried to be adult in my disappointment. “I know. You’re married. I respect that,” I said, pretty stupidly for someone grabbing the tits of somebody else’s wife.
“No, I don’t mean that,” she said, and now I was confused. “I want you so bad, Ricky,” she said, and I made a mental note at that instant to be Rick from now on. “But I can’t have you by myself. Bart and I have a rule. We only share our bed with other people… together.”
I was horrified, as well as still confused. Shocked at the idea that apparently there was a lot more going on than I’d guessed upstairs. And confused at just how much she meant… together.
She pulled herself away from me now, cutting off my access to the delights I’d finally sampled. “Ricky, I want you badly. And I know you want me. But these are the rules here. If you come to bed with Bart and me, you come to bed with us as a couple. That means, we all make love to each other.”
Shit, she really did mean that. There was no fucking way. “I’m not– I’m not–” I said, somewhat angrily.
“I’m not a lesbian, Ricky, but when Bart wants to bring a beautiful woman home, we all share everything,” she said. “There’s so much potential for love and just plain happiness in this world if we don’t get hung up on what we are or aren’t. Anyway,” she said, a little tougher edge in her voice, “those are the rules. You’re young, there are many things you could discover about yourself that will only lead to a richer and fuller life. I would love to help you discover them, Ricky… I want to be the first woman you make love to, and I want to see you make love. But you have to give yourself to me, and to Bart. It’s your choice,” she said, and then she grabbed my hand, and it disappeared under the chiffon edge of her negligee and then– my God, my fingers were thrust into a wet and slippery warm place for a moment, like another tongue licking them. Then they were pulled out again, and she backed away from me. “Think about it tonight… when you’re thinking about this by yourself.”
* * *
I knew what I wanted and I didn’t know what I wanted. I sniffed the fingers that Lana had pushed up into her slippery wetness, and I knew I wanted more of that. But then I looked at my own cock, rockhard and pink with the day’s workout, and… did I want that too? I didn’t think so, but that was the deal, according to Lana. Going to bed with her meant going to bed with her illegal bahis siteleri husband too, and– what? Sucking his cock? Letting him fuck me in the ass, for crying out loud? No fucking way. I wanted to get laid by Lana, but I wasn’t willing to do all that. No way.
But then I thought of Lana, of that voluptuous, overabundant roundness, of those massive white breasts rolling back and forth under that white chiffon negligee, of her thick meaty thighs spreading open to reveal what must be a red bush covering red slippery lips, of those delicate little pink toes at the end of chubby little feet. I thought of having all those things, and as I pounded my meat, I looked at it, really looked at it for the first time. I didn’t really want one of these up my butt, that was clear. But would it be so bad to put my lips on one, to suck on this thing that I had one of too?
As I looked at it a thought occurred to me, and I arranged myself on my mattress on the floor, butt and feet against the wall, and then started pushing my butt upward, into the air, until my back was curved around and my cock was dangling over me. I stretched as best as I could, trying to bring it down far enough that it could reach my mouth. But I couldn’t. It dangled there, a few inches from the furthest point my tongue could reach. Well, if I couldn’t do that and I was already in this position, I could at least try one thing and see if it grossed me out. I aimed my cock straight at my mouth and thought of Lana, of her big round ass as I smeared my cock up and down her crack. That did it– the first spurt hit my cheek, the next scored a bullseye on my tongue, the next went even further, hitting my throat. I squeezed out the last drop, which dangled and fell into my mouth, and I tasted it, swirling it around my mouth, then swallowed it before the mood passed. There, I had swallowed cum. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it with somebody else.
The next morning I went down to see Lana, even before I had a chance to jack off. But she had already taken off for the day, apparently, and that left me with nothing to do. Well, except spend the whole day beating off. I went back downstairs, dug out my stash of Penthouses, put the headphones on to Van Halen (can you imagine that being background music for sex now?) and dropped trou. I was curious about something, and so for the first time I started looking at the guys in the pictorials that had them.
I wasn’t exactly converted. Women were soft, round, wet… cute. Guys were, well, guys. Hard (not just there), rough, angular. But maybe I got a little more used to the idea. A cock was an interesting thing, mine was pretty interesting (it certainly got a lot of my attention) and I started to think the other ones I saw in the magazine were kind of interesting too. Maybe I could go down on a guy without freaking out. I wasn’t going to go looking for the opportunity, but maybe I could get through it.
The other thing, though, getting boned… that was weird. That was totally gay (interesting that a blow job somehow was now less gay). But some guys liked it, and I knew from my extensive study of human sexuality in the Penthouse Forum section (I’m just relaying the facts here, not sneaking in product placements) that some guys liked a woman to stick her fingers up there. Well, I didn’t have a woman handy (yet) but I had fingers, and suddenly I was curious about that.
My first attempt made it clear that some form of lubrication would be required, so I limped to the bathroom and came back with some lotion, then lay back on my stomach with my headphones on and started smearing a glob over my asshole, then sliding a finger inside. The single finger went in easily, and I humped my bed as I drove it in and out. But it didn’t really seem like enough, so I smeared my middle finger around in the goo up my crack and slid it in, too. That was a lot to have in there, and it hurt a bit at first. But I soon got used to it as well. In fact it was surprising how agreeable it quickly became.
There was one problem, though, and that was that I couldn’t easily jack off at the same time lying face down. So I had another idea, and soon I was rummaging the apartment until I found a big red candle. I smeared some lotion on it, too, and then, laying on my back, I slid it slowly in until I felt it hit something inside me that gave me a funny flutter in my stomach. At the same time I pumped my cock, and fell into a rhythm (accompanied by Van Halen) of stroking and fucking my own ass with the candle. Just the sheer abandon of being this far gone into myself, literally and figuratively, made it one of the most intense experiences I had ever had. I was lost in it, my loins were trembling, I saw colors–
I saw Lana standing in the doorway of my bedroom, amazed and bemused.
I sat up with a start, not even pulling the candle out of my ass but just sort of trying to hide its presence, in the process painfully jamming it up further than it had ever been. I crossed my legs to try to hide my cock, for what reason canlı bahis siteleri I don’t know. And I turned red as a stoplight as I desperately tried to think of something to say that would make it all seem normal– there’s a very tiny proctologist at work in my lower intestine and he needed more light?
“Well, I see you’ve been giving some serious thought to what we talked about,” she finally said.
If it was possible for me to turn redder, which I doubt, I did. She didn’t wait for me to stammer but just came into my bedroom and sat down on the floor next to my mattress and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I can’t tell you how excited I am that you might join Bart and me,” she said. I started to relax a little, although I was still the most embarrassed person in human history. Then she said the thing that really blew my mind. “Can I watch you get off? Like that? Maybe we could come together,” she said, and she reached up inside her sundress and started to rub herself, not where I could see but from the way she started to squirm and moan, it was obvious she wasn’t pretending.
She lay back on the floor and then nodded at me to do the same. I started pulling on my soft cock and she moved one leg up so that the skirt of her dress fell down to her waist, revealing her big thick thighs all the way up to the wisps of red curly hair sticking out of the bands of her white panties. She rubbed the center of her crotch from the outside, and I could imagine the juices soaking them wet (although it would be a while before I learned that that was another thing Penthouse Forum exaggerated somewhat). The most mindblowing thing was seeing her big ass squirm and shimmy around, fucking her hand the way I’d fucked the candle. Yet I still couldn’t get hard again. It was just too much all at once.
She knew how I felt and without saying a word, she took her hand off her pussy and reached over and grabbed the candle stuck in my ass. Looking back, I’m amazed at her ingenuity in finding ways to drive me wilder without violating her vow to only have real sex with her husband present. Without touching my cock, she began to slide the candle in and out of my asshole, gently and even romantically, pushing it in straight and then angling it as she pulled it out to drag against the walls of my asshole. It was mind-blowing, and it wasn’t long before I was hard again, and it wasn’t long after that before I was spraying jets of goo all over my chest. Lana let go of the candle and reached down to her own crotch again, jiggling those big thighs and fat round ass as she moaned loudly and came with a couple of loud whoops and a satisfied sigh. Then she looked at me, leaned over and kissed one of the blobs of cum which had landed on my nipple, and then kissed me with cum-covered lips.
“Bart gets home tomorrow night,” she said.
* * *
“To the three of us,” Bart said with a leer, and we clicked our champagne glasses together, the first time I’d ever tasted that. Something I would probably be able to say about several things before the night was through.
So far they’d done a good job of keeping the evening moving, with a combination of genuine friendship and lewd double entendres. But now was the moment of truth. I was going to finally lose my virginity. I just hoped it would be in a heterosexual fashion first.
“Lana, why don’t you put Ricky–“
“Rick,” I said.
“Rick, right, ’cause you’re a man now, not a boy,” he said. “Lana, darling, why don’t you put Rick here at ease by showing him what I know he’s been dying to see for a long time.”
“I know it’s long, I’ve already seen it,” she said, and leaned over to give me a kiss on the lips. I tried to make it last longer but she pulled away and stood up.
She was wearing the white chiffon negligee she had modeled for me earlier in the week. Her big pendulous breasts were hidden by satin triangles, but I could see them sway back and forth, almost revealing nipples as they moved under the satin. Her round smooth belly was more apparent under the sheer, see-through material, and below that I could make out pubic hair under the satin triangle covering her crotch. From there it was just her thick, sturdy thighs all the way down to the delicately plump feet and pink toes that I had found a most unexpected delight in imagining wrapped around my cock during my many daily whack sessions.
She leaned against the column by the edge of the kitchen bar and raised one arm, then shimmied over to it as if she were doing a pole dance at a strip club, shaking that big round ass at us. She leaned over, giving me a view down her voluminous cleavage, and then slipped the arms down, bringing the top of the negligee down to her nipples. She held one arm under her breasts, making them bulge over it, and then tugged, gently, revealing a little more, the aureoles, and then finally two fat eraser-like nipples. Then she whipped around, bending over with her ass in my face. She reached from the front and massaged her pussy until I could see the wetness starting to form. She did it more vigorously and I got glimpses of her hairy red pussy. Then she undid the snaps, and let the negligee fall to the floor and turned, facing me.
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