Leah

I’m sixteen now. Come to think of it, I’ve been sixteen for a while. I’ve been having sex for three years now and each experience is completely different. However, I’m still unsure what makes it different. Could it be my partner’s level or experience or the allure that I have accumulated over the last three years? Whatever the cause is, sex is apart of me now. I can’t control myself. Every male that I come into contact with I have to fuck. It’s a must for me now. I’m insecure, I know this. Like, it’s not like I’m ugly or fat or anything, I’m cute and I have the sex appeal going for me. But everytime I get a boy in a room with me alone, I feel obligated to have sex with them. But I like the way sex feels. I love the hard, pulsating penis of my partner caressing my inner vaginal walls. I love been able to flex myself on my partner and make them finish in a matter of seconds. It feels like an accomplishment. It feels like I did something right. I love the positions I am able to do; do to my flexiblity from dance. The only two things I would never do with a guy is anal and give them head. Let’s be fucking honest. I am not putting my mouth on your cock… the same cock you piss out of… the same cock you use to deposit the semen from a long day of stroking inside of a fresh, white, prestine kleenex… the same cock you fuck other bitches with… the same cock you use to fuck me. I don’t want to taste myself, if I wanted to taste myself I would have placed full length mirror in fucking front of me, fingered the shit out of myself and tasted my feminine secretion. I wouldn’t want a dick inside my anal cavity either. That shit must hurt and I know you wouldn’t want to clean shit bits oon your penis so why waste time doing something we would not enjoy? But enough about my sexual exploits; this is about ME and MY first time. Let me start off by saying that I was not the sex fiend I am now. In grade eight, I was experienced in other ways, but like most kids, I believed in waiting until I was married. Bullshit. Fast foward to May of my eigth grade year and I was at my friend Marnie’s 14 birthday party. She felt like hot shit because her step mom finally let her buy a water bra. Marnie was always the type of girl to draw attention from both sexes. Boys from our school and neighboring schools came out to the party along with forty girls. It still amazing me how we were all able to fit in her basement. Leave it to black people for being able to contain a lot of people in a small space. It was hot, sweating, and reeked of teenage desperation. But, for some reason, I spotted, Devon Pryce sitting with some blonde chick that I always wanted to snuff in the face. So I made my way over there and leaned over, whispered in her ear saying, “You know he think you’re loose right?” and she looked so upset and stormed across the concrete floor to dance with Emily Wyatt, her partner in crime. I sat down and talked to Devon, I mean really talked. And why wouldn’t I? He was super hot and all that and a bag of chips. We laughed, and I did that totally cliché laugh and lean, and he went along with it. As I looked into his hazel eyes, I knew right then and there that I wanted to be more then friends with Devon Pryce. Twenty minutes elapsed at this point and I am staddling his lap while making out with him in Marnie’s sister’s room. He lifts up my top, removes my bra and starts sucking on my nipples… I could feel myself getting extremely wet at this point. I take off his top in a hasty fashion and breathed in his musky scent. Delicious. I hopped up off his lap as he let my tube skirt hit the floor. This was it. I mean, I was in my pink thong staring at his pelvic area as he unfastened the button from his jeans, zipped them down and stepped out of them like fucking Calvin Klien model. I walked up to him, slid his boxers off and pushed him on the bed. I straddled him again and he managed to roll on top of me. It was a good thing I shaved. He rubbed my clit as he said, “You’re the one”. I was soaking wet. I knew I alone left a puddle on her bedspread. He proceeded to kiss my stomach and ate my vagina as if he hadn’t eaten anything all day. At that point, I figured out I was a ‘screamer’, even though they were being drowned out by the sound system. Thank you Marnie. As he came back up, he kissed me again and asked if I was ready. I nodded with an uncertain confidence as he gently glided his erect penis inside of me. It was unconfortable for all of twelve seconds. I felt ligaments inside my hole before so I was kind of used to the feeling. I got to say, I was a bit big for his age, which made the experience more interesting. Every three thrusts he made my moans got louder and louder and louder. I didn’t want him to stop, it felt that fucking good. It lasted for forty minutes. When he finished, he politely did so into a top which believed was Hannnah’s. As we both reassembled our outfits for the evening, he tilted my head up and said, “I’ve waited for that all year…” I cut him off by saying, “I did too.” We dated for a year after that day until we broke up and decided to be friends with benefits. So till this day, he is my on-again/off-again, offical unofficial boyfriend. I’ve had better sexually experiences than my first time but for the most part, that was my best.

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