After writing what turned out to be a lengthy post in first time saw touched pussy, or whatever I thought it would make a good blogism to write out.. So here it is here and there...
I was 17, she was 21. it was 1982. She was a hot blond/blue nymphomaniac. All the guys wanted her, she wanted me, I wanted a select few of the guys around her... She came on to me strong and hard and never let up. I finally couldn't say no or else they might wonder about me and think I was gay, god forbid. I couldn't possibly be gay. Finally we went to her place. She put on a Rolling Stones album and I did what was expected of me.
Man she was a BABE! A FOX! A Hot and sexy woman! That much I could recognize.
We made out we got naked and my cock did not understand what it was supposed to do. When I reached down there it was warm, smooth, and there was that slightly sensual smell.
It took me 20 sometimes 25 minutes of “foreplay”
(Inside my head, "GET UP DAMN YOU, GET HARD!" focus on hot dude muscle muscle muscle Dick dick dick, remember the week before when I was with the football player, yes YES YESSS there YO GO BRO! Now stay hard, NO DON’T you go limp on me fucker!)
I generally had to pretend her big firm voluminous “boobulas” with those pink nips were PECS! I ignored that faint smell of estrogen that all women emit from their pores and imagined that wonderful smell only a man has. Oh oh oh don’t hug her too tight she is after all a female.. ARGH!!
She had no clue, she knew I was a virgin [with the opposite sex] and she attributed my awkwardness to that. But she loved how I took my time, was in no hurry, made it last, every minute was an eternity. [I had to move slow, or else break my concentration and loose “pressure”] I was able to perform. I performed well, evidently I didn’t climax as quickly as was expected from the few she’s been with. [she was NO tramp] I made her orgasm, loudly. Kissing her wasn’t so bad. I avoided getting my fingers down there and after getting my face near her vagina once I avoided going down there at all costs. It just wasn’t right. The sweat I broke into was from pure fear of failure, not from exertion.
So after a few weeks of denial later, almost every day, the relationship, such as it was, sort of just tapered off . It took a lot out of me, but I wasn’t gay! Or was I? My cock would always twitch when I thought of a hot buffed dude… and would in turn try to crawl up my asshole if I ever again thought of trying a girl. I was never one to deny the truth in front of my face. Shortly after graduation and after I turned 18, I came out of the closet of denial and deceit.
That is another story.
We still keep in touch, she is a good friend. Her name is Kelly Kennedy, and go ahead i dare you to try to look her up. she is now married with 2 kids. She still listens to the Rolling Stones
I was 17, she was 21. it was 1982. She was a hot blond/blue nymphomaniac. All the guys wanted her, she wanted me, I wanted a select few of the guys around her... She came on to me strong and hard and never let up. I finally couldn't say no or else they might wonder about me and think I was gay, god forbid. I couldn't possibly be gay. Finally we went to her place. She put on a Rolling Stones album and I did what was expected of me.
Man she was a BABE! A FOX! A Hot and sexy woman! That much I could recognize.
We made out we got naked and my cock did not understand what it was supposed to do. When I reached down there it was warm, smooth, and there was that slightly sensual smell.
It took me 20 sometimes 25 minutes of “foreplay”
(Inside my head, "GET UP DAMN YOU, GET HARD!" focus on hot dude muscle muscle muscle Dick dick dick, remember the week before when I was with the football player, yes YES YESSS there YO GO BRO! Now stay hard, NO DON’T you go limp on me fucker!)
I generally had to pretend her big firm voluminous “boobulas” with those pink nips were PECS! I ignored that faint smell of estrogen that all women emit from their pores and imagined that wonderful smell only a man has. Oh oh oh don’t hug her too tight she is after all a female.. ARGH!!
She had no clue, she knew I was a virgin [with the opposite sex] and she attributed my awkwardness to that. But she loved how I took my time, was in no hurry, made it last, every minute was an eternity. [I had to move slow, or else break my concentration and loose “pressure”] I was able to perform. I performed well, evidently I didn’t climax as quickly as was expected from the few she’s been with. [she was NO tramp] I made her orgasm, loudly. Kissing her wasn’t so bad. I avoided getting my fingers down there and after getting my face near her vagina once I avoided going down there at all costs. It just wasn’t right. The sweat I broke into was from pure fear of failure, not from exertion.
So after a few weeks of denial later, almost every day, the relationship, such as it was, sort of just tapered off . It took a lot out of me, but I wasn’t gay! Or was I? My cock would always twitch when I thought of a hot buffed dude… and would in turn try to crawl up my asshole if I ever again thought of trying a girl. I was never one to deny the truth in front of my face. Shortly after graduation and after I turned 18, I came out of the closet of denial and deceit.
That is another story.
We still keep in touch, she is a good friend. Her name is Kelly Kennedy, and go ahead i dare you to try to look her up. she is now married with 2 kids. She still listens to the Rolling Stones
