Where it happened: In my girl's bedroom.
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 6
Category: Straight
After giving my virginity to Yvonne we saw each other nearly every weekend for furious sessions of lovemaking from Friday night to Sunday night. Usually we would have one coupling as soon as we went to bed, one or two times during the night, and again and again all through the day. Each time I would be lost in the warmth of her soothing personality, in the security of her protective aura, making me want to resist coming too soon, because then I would have to leave her nurturing body. I was surprised that we never had to deal with pregnancy; I was always over at her house, spending most of that time with her in bed, with me usually on top of her every few hours, pumping her full of sperm; often it would leak out and run down the crack of her bottom.
One time we had sex so fiercely that we literally knocked the mattress off the bed next to the closet door. We began laughing, with me still in her, at the mattress laying half on the bed and half on the floor.
I have never understood the concept of “penis envy.” I thought the term was coined by some male psychiatrist who was bitter and frustrated because he never got any. Each sex, both men and women, are designed so beautifully that they should be proud of their attributes, and not envy the other. At times, while we were taking a shower together, I would wash Yvonne’s vulva and marvel at how intricate yet compact she was, with her delicate outer and inner lips frothy with soapy bubbles. Her doctor had told her that the difference between men and women was that men had outdoor plumbing and women had indoor plumbing, but it was much more fascinating than that.
One of the great things about Yvonne was learning of women’s sexuality from her, openly and honestly. Some days she would lay on the bed in broad daylight with her legs open and show me her different parts, sometimes by taking hold of my finger and actually putting it on her clitoris or in her vagina and having me feel what the firmness or texture is like. Then I could feel more of the experience of being a part of her body when I entered her.
I was very shy in high school; I never dated but always considered myself surrounded by beautiful females who seemed to do the most outrageous things. I sat to the side and in front of a cheerleader who wore the shortest mini-skirts to school (this was in the late sixties, and I was never sure how she got away with it), and she would raise her hand for some silly comment or inane question, and when the student teacher called on her, I would look in her direction and she would seductively cross her legs, causing her short skirt to ride up so her panties would be visible. This was no doubt an attempt to attract the attention of the male student teacher, but I got a very good show as well. I knew each day what color of panties she was wearing. Some days I would run home from school to tell my mom that I had to go to the bathroom and immediately bound upstairs and lock the door, then unbuckle and drop my pants and humbly get down on my spread knees to make my wet, sticky love offering to the cheerleader goddess by urgently rubbing my phallus until my essence poured out, coating my hand, to drip on the vinyl tile.
Sometimes I would sit to the side and behind a girl in homeroom who had beautiful legs and while I was trying to read a book, she would cross her legs and let her loafer dangle sexily from her toes. I watched her move her shoe up and down, flexing the arch of her foot. Then the most frightening thing happened. I began having an orgasm right in homeroom! I tried to somehow squeeze myself tight, and expected to see a stain spreading on my pants, but I had somehow managed to stifle the flow of semen and didn’t have to excuse myself to run to the restroom.
My belief is that the main thing that differentiates men from women sexually, other than anatomy, is the prospect of dealing with sperm. It hangs over every man’s head when he wants to express his sexuality; he has to worry about where to put it, or wipe it, or throw it away when he has had an orgasm. I would read jealously about women who could have an orgasm in public, possibly by pressing their legs together or surreptitiously touching the clitoris, and go about their business. But a man must always be prepared to dispose of the cream he has deposited or face embarrassment and humiliation. Even an erection is embarrassing if in school you are called to the front of the class to read your report and you have been fantasizing about a girl, and then walk up there with your obvious hard-on straining beneath your pants, and hear the giggles of some of the girls in the class.
Yvonne and I were staying at her mom’s for the weekend, in a mobile home on her property, when late one evening she stayed up to clean the kitchen and told me I could rest on the bed for awhile. But I fell asleep, and after a short time she came in to the bedroom and shook me awake, saying with a smile, “You’re not going to fall asleep on me tonight.” Then we undressed and began making love. It so happened that I had read a magazine article the week before about techniques the Chinese use to give their women more pleasure by moving the penis from side to side while sliding in and out. I decided to try this, and I heard something I had never heard before; the quick inhale and exhale of Yvonne’s breath as she began moving her bottom up and down. Then I heard her gasp as she raised her butt off the bed to meet my stroking penis, pushing me even deeper. I was so excited that I came at the same time, my body arching and shooting my cum as deeply as I could inside her. We returned to earth from our simultaneous orgasm, and she held me for a long time, saying simply but sincerely, “Thank you.” From then on I wanted to find out as much about women, and this woman in particular, as I could to discover what gives them pleasure.
As the months went by I was pleased to see that I could give her an orgasm almost every time we made love. Sometimes after her orgasm I could actually feel the muscles of her vagina squeeze my penis with powerful contractions that seemed to go on and on. And I knew she appreciated it, because shortly after we had had our first orgasm together, one day while I was in her, moving my hips in a rotating motion and pushing so deep that the head of my penis was flicking across the bump of her cervix, she put her arms tightly around me, and whispered, “You always make me feel so good. How do you do that?”
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