Dog Lover s DiaryChapter 3 Pyjama Party
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The following material is sexually explicit erotica.
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Chapter 1
First Fumblings
Looking back from so many years later it’s very clear that my sexual predilections were actually formed very early. I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I first felt a boy’s fully erect cock, but I could have only just turned eighteen. It was a year or so later before I had my first, fumbling and totally unsatisfying fuck, but by then I knew one thing for certain – once I had gained some experience, and had found a guy who could do it proficiently – I was going to really, really like sex!
Nearly all the girls I knew were mad about boys and men – both those that were available locally and the older, fantasy-figure, sport, pop and movie stars – and apart from clothes, they spent virtually all their spare time talking about them, dividing them into mainly just two categories, those that were gorgeous and the others, that were repulsive. At that time I felt much the same way and joined in with my friends of course – but even then I sensed that there was something different about me or at least about the way I felt about the boys we were talking about. Once past the obvious attributes – good-looking, interesting, exciting – the other girls seemed to think of them in an almost abstract way, as prizes to be won and then owned, while I thought of them as being the possessors of cocks – cocks that I wanted to see, touch, arouse and in time, feel inside me.
Although, like my friends, I was turned-on to boys that were attractive, had style, great bodies or some other special attribute – it was always their cock that I eventually found myself thinking about. What would it look like limp and later, erect – what shape, how big? How would it and he react when I touched and fondled it? What would we do with it – would he want me to suck it or to get him off with my hand? And then, if we did have sex – would he be gentle or rough? Would he caress my breasts, suck them for me? Would he come too quickly or would he actually be able to get me off too? Would he be able to do it again? How long would I have to wait to find out?
The girls talked about their supposed sexual activities – about what their latest had or had not done or tried to do – but their stories were usually told with a lot of embarrassed giggling and when I tried to join in by telling them what I had done and how it had felt, I quickly found that they weren’t really interested in my feelings and certainly didn’t want to know that I had actually enjoyed it. It was as though for them the important thing was really just having a story to tell.
Even the girls who had ‘done it’ seemed to get more pleasure from having the others know that they had, than from recalling the excitement or pleasure of the experience itself. To most it was just a way of keeping the boy interested in them, to some it seemed to be a way of getting status amongst their friends and to others something they had to do just to keep up with the girls in their particular group.
But, as I said, by the time I was nineteen or so, I knew I loved sex itself. I loved everything about it. The feeling of anticipation, the growing tension between the boy and myself, the variety of thrills I felt as different parts of my body reacted in different ways, the ways boys and their bodies reacted to what I did to them. Even the complicated business of planning where and how to get away by yourselves so that you could do it – at that age, even with a steady boy-friend it was hard to get away from the rest of the crowd and there was rarely anywhere where you could be comfortable together. How I envied older girls, girls who lived away from home, to me the idea of having a place of my own meant having a bed-room constantly available for sex and that seemed the ultimate reward for getting through the problems of the late teen-age years.
Many of those problems involved boys of course and I had just as many as the other girls, falling madly in love with one who totally ignored me or being hounded by one that I simply couldn’t stand the sight of. But, even when I was suffering from a bad attack of unrequited love I found that if there was another boy, who was in some other way exciting, he could help me forget the one my heart yearned for – I found that physical pleasures could smother the painful heart-ache, for a time at least.
Then sometimes, I found that even when I had been successful in attracting the attention of a current idol, he didn’t always turn out to be very exciting physically. So I quickly understood that what we then thought was ‘love’ was not so good if the sexual excitement wasn’t there – and that a good petting session with a boy who knew what he was doing could make a very nice, if temporary substitute for it.
By this time I had also learned enough about the likely reactions of my girl friends to know that this was not something to be talked about with them.
I had realised very early on that girls who were ‘easy’ quickly developed a bad reputation with both their girl friends and, more amazingly with the boys too. It took some time for me to understand the boys’ reactions – at first I couldn’t puzzle out why it should be so – surely a girl who enjoyed doing what virtually all the boys spent most of their time trying to get a girl to do, would be extremely popular and held in high esteem. But no, not only did those girls get ostracised by their girl friends, the ‘nice’ boys looked down on them too – some of them might surreptitiously try their luck with them but even if they were successful it wasn’t something they were proud of and they gave the impression that what she had done just went to prove how much of a ‘slut’ she actually was. I couldn’t understand it – but I did realise that I needed to keep quiet about my own, different feelings and, if I wanted to remain liked by my friends, restrict my natural inclination to get as much experience as quickly as possible. So, like most teen-agers – but for different reasons – I spent a lot of time masturbating – and had a whole library of imaginings, interspersed with just a few actual memories, that I used to excite myself when I did it.
There had been one particular boy that I had been out with a couple of times and as he had already finished college I had been astonished and a bit over-awed when he had asked me to go out with him. Maybe he’d sensed something about me – but he was just a bit premature, at that age I was still too scared to ‘go all the way’ and as that was what he was really after, when he found out that I really wouldn’t, he didn’t ask me out with him a third time.
But I hadn’t been too timid to miss the opportunity to get him off with my hand and it was frequently his cock that I saw in my mind’s eye when I was alone. In my imagination I probably made it even bigger and more powerful than it had really been – maybe not. But at the time and for quite a long time after, it was by far the biggest and most beautiful cock I had actually touched.
For our first date he took me to the movies, I don’t remember what we saw as I’m sure I spent the entire time in a state of nervous anticipation, much of which was sparked by the way his hands began to wander over me once the lights had gone down – one result of which was that by the time we got up to leave I found that I was so wet that my panties were sticking uncomfortably to me. For his age he was very self-assured and at various times his hands had felt all of the easily accessible parts of me, as well as trying for others that were more difficult to get at, he had done it nicely, slowly, caressingly – definitely not just a series of quick gropes, as was more usually the case with boys of my own age.
He had borrowed his father’s car and on the way home he naturally drove us to a secluded spot and parked. We did a lot of kissing and some pretty frenzied fondling for a while until, when
he tried to get my bra off before even undoing my blouse, I eased him away from me and began to undress myself. I could see he was surprised by that and at first he didn’t seem to know how to react to it, then he quickly began to do the same. In fact he was down to his underpants before I had finished and I remember stopping to look at him. The bulge in his underpants was enormous and I just couldn’t help staring at it, then as he got them down over his hips I heard myself gasp as his cock literally sprang up. I’ll never forget that moment or the sight of it, it seemed monstrous and I felt my heart racing as I continued staring down at it, my fingers literally itching to feel the hot hardness of it.
I don’t know if the actual sight of it made me realise what was about to happen to me, or that it was just the sheer size that scared me – but suddenly the implications of taking off my panties, making myself completely available to him, were just too much for me.
Thankfully he gave me the excuse for stopping the awkward struggle I had been having with my wet and clinging panties by pulling my head towards him with one hand and, as he kissed me, reaching for my breasts with his other. Then, as we continued kissing and he began to fondle me, I found I could feel the soft heat of his cock-head pulsing against my stomach and reached down for it, thrilling as I felt the thick shaft jerking powerfully between my fingers. Although our lips were clamped together and our tongues probing deep inside each other’s mouth, I heard him groaning with pleasure as his cock responded to my touch and that and the actual feel of it pulsing in response to my strokes, raised my own excitement to near fever pitch.
Looking back I’m quite sure that if I had not still had my panties on he could have flipped me on to my back and got inside me in a flash. As it was he got so excited from what my hand was doing to him that within a minute or so I heard the sounds of pleasure becoming much more urgent and felt him thrusting his cock up through my fingers.
It didn’t seem possible but I was sure it had got even bigger, even harder and I tore my mouth away from his to look down at it – just in time to see the first jet of thick semen burst from it and spout up over my breasts. He was like a wild thing, jerking himself right up off the seat, one hand still gripping my breast, so hard that it almost began to hurt me but, in a strange way that only seemed to increase my own excitement even more and I watched in fascination as my hand forced a second, third and fourth jet from his spasming cock.
That climax seemed to satisfy him for that evening – but when he asked me out again about a week later, even though he didn’t actually say so in words, I knew that this time he expected proper sex with me. I had time to think about my reaction to that and although I met him as we had arranged, I did make sure he understood that though I loved doing what I had done the previous time, I felt I was still too unsure about ‘going all the way’ with him.
He was much more subdued during the evening and later, when we were on our own, he tried everything he could think of to persuade me to change my mind and I admit I was tempted, particularly when I thought of his huge cock and wondered what it would feel like inside me – but I didn’t change my mind – even though I did get my first, actual taste of a boy’s cock and semen – and found that I actually liked those too!
For a long time I used to replay those two encounters over and over again in my mind as I brought myself to solitary climaxes.
During the year or so that I remained a virgin I had several similar outings with equally enthusiastic, if less well endowed boys and quietly became something of an expert at getting them off with either my hands or mouth – liking and just occasionally actually getting myself off too, from either method.
Looking back, the thing I find strangest about that time was the lack of the boys’ interest in finding out what pleased me. My breasts and bum came in for a lot of attention of course – and that usually felt nice at the time – but when it came to a comparison between what I was prepared to do for the boys and what they were prepared to do for me, there was no contest. Most made some kind of fumbling grope at my pussy, usually too quick, too hard and totally lacking in any understanding of where and what a clitoris is and how it needs to be treated. Those times I did manage to reach a climax were usually more a result of my own mounting excitement than from any stimulation the boy might have given me.
So I shouldn’t have been too surprised that when it came to my first actual fuck it too was a bit of a hit and miss affair – but after reaching the age of nineteen I was quite determined to rid myself of my so called ‘virginity’ and it was only a question of when, with whom and where, as far as I was concerned.
The boy’s name was David and it happened at a friend’s house, during her birthday party. As we knew that her parents were going out for the evening most of the boys had brought something with them so we were all either drinking or smoking and there were already quite a few couples missing when he got round to asking me if I’d like to go outside for some fresh air. We found a quiet spot behind the garage and had been kissing and petting pretty heavily for a while, during which time I’d had a bit of a feel of his nicely erect cock when he quietly said,
‘I’ve got a condom with me. Shall we use it Sue?’
The college I went to had a full programme of sex education and luckily for me my mother wasn’t as narrow minded as many other girls’ mothers were and she had always talked to me about male and female bodies, what happened to them during puberty and what sex was all about. So when I had suggested to her that perhaps I should go on the pill, ‘just in case’, she was prepared to consider it and, after much quizzing as to what I was actually getting up to and finding out that it had all been relatively harmless up to that point, she agreed. So David’s condom wasn’t really necessary – but I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that! What I did say was –
‘Where?’
I think my answer took him by surprise, I don’t think he’d expected me to agree as easily as that, if at all – and he had no more idea as to where we could ‘do it’ than I had.
‘Let’s have a look around inside.’ he suggested.
I had no better idea and being keen to end my technical ‘virginity’ and as David was a nice enough boy and it felt as though he had a decent sized cock, I took his hand and off we went in search of a bed.
We disturbed another two couples who had the same idea before we found what I think must have been the spare room but when we went in and closed the door behind us and I felt him trembling beside me, I knew for sure that he was far more nervous than I was. He didn’t turn the light on but he did lock the door and then just stood there, sort of helplessly, not sure just what to do next – so after a few seconds of that I said to him ‘Aren’t you going to get undressed?’ And began to get my own things off.
It was all a bit of a farce really, David was so tense he lost his erection, when I helped him recover it he couldn’t find the condom, when he finally found that he couldn’t get it on and in the struggle his cock started to go limp again, so once more I had to get it hard and then help him roll the thing down over it. I began to wonder if it was all really worth-while!
I suppose that having been through all that all he wanted to do was get his cock into me and get it over with as quickly as possible, which was fine for him but not much fun for me – but that’s just about what happened – he had his fuck, I’d ‘lost’ my virginity, we got dressed and went back to the party. I don’t think he actually spoke to me again for the rest of the evening. Boys are funny like that!
Anyway I had at least achieved my objective, I was no longer a virgin and having got r
id of it I now felt I was better equipped to ‘explore the world of sex’. Looking back I can see just how stupid that sounds but it’s exactly what I thought at the time, I don’t remember just how I thought I was going to do that without getting the reputation of being a ‘slut’, which I certainly didn’t want, but it was what I wanted to do.
As things turned out, not too long after that first, not very satisfactory experience, my parents and I went off for our annual holiday and although it was more luck than anything else, that was when I actually started on my exploration!
Mum and Dad liked nothing better than to laze around on the beach during the mornings and though I liked to get a good tan I couldn’t stand just lying there all that time, which they understood and, so long as they had some idea of where I was going and what I was doing I was under no pressure to stay with them. I had been saving most of my allowance and knew exactly what I was going to do with at least some of it – there was a shop in the town that stocked the latest, most daring swim suits and I planned to buy one. So, that very first morning I told my parents I was going browsing around the shops in town.
When I got there I found that some of the things they had on display in the window were real eye-openers even to me and I knew very well that my parents would never let me wear anything as daring, even if, I admitted to myself, I’d had the figure for them. But I went in and started to look through the other things they had and soon found a gorgeous, jade green bikini that I just simply fell in love with. My skin is a light olive colour which takes a tan really well and I knew that when I had picked up a bit, its colour would look fantastic against my skin and that it would also highlight the flashes of green in my eyes.
Even so, when I actually tried it on I just stared at myself – I looked terrific! My breasts aren’t especially big but they do have a nice, round shape and as the top gave them extra lift it made the cleavage between them much more pronounced. But my best feature is my legs, they’re the part of me that most boys first make a comment about – they’re long, slim, have nicely rounded thighs and very small ankles. The bottom half of the bikini was cut high on the hip so made them look even longer and the fit of it over my bottom gave it a really sexy curve. It was so lovely that I didn’t even try to anticipate my parents’ reaction and decided I just had to buy it.
The only thing that really concerned me was the tiny amount of material over my pubes – it was obvious that as I didn’t want to have pubic hair poking out on either side of it, I would have to have some of them removed. Then as the bikini turned out to be less expensive than I had expected to have to pay I decided that rather than trying to do it for myself, I’d have it done professionally and luckily the girl in the shop was able to recommend a nearby beauty salon. So, feeling strangely excited and somehow very grown up, I walked the short distance to the salon and when I got there found that my luck was still holding good, they weren’t very busy at that time and were able to take me straight away.
Having shown the woman what I had bought and worked out the area that needed waxing I was soon stretched out on a padded table, naked from the waist down and as I lay there waiting for them to start I couldn’t help thinking of the number of boys I knew that would give almost anything to be able to see inside a place like that.
A girl about my own age came in to actually apply the wax and even in those strange circumstances we got chatting and I found that I immediately felt comfortable with her and felt that she seemed to have taken a liking to me too. Later, after the senior lady had done the actual painful bit, the younger one, Jane, came back to apply a soothing lotion and while she did that we talked some more. Anyway we got on so well that we arranged to meet after she had finished work, when she said she would show me around the town.
Aspen
- 30.01.2023
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