THE - CLOSER
Banned
Miss Taylor virgin busting sex romp
I'd always been a sexually charged *****, and had been masturbating as far back as I could remember, long before I had any clue what I was doing. Perhaps stemming from a lack of self-confidence, I'd always been one of the more promiscuous girls in my class. I confused boys' hormonal lust with actual interest in me. Any attention was better than no attention, and I sought as much of it as possible.
"I'd always been one of the more promiscuous girls in my class..."
I was the first girl in sixth grade to French kiss a boy. This involved notes ****** in the hallway and an agreement to meet at the flagpole after school, followed by approximately seven awkward seconds of sloppy, fruity-gum-filled tonguing. In seventh grade, I was also among the first girls in my class to have a boy feel under my shirt and down my pants. Later on I was one of the first to perform oral sex. These were all with my "boyfriends," though for the most part they seemed to come and go in a matter of weeks or even days.
High school changed everything, or everyone. Suddenly, the girls who called me a slut in
Earlier years in school were losing their virginities left and right. I made a pact with my best friend that we would lose ours before the a certain age. She kept her end of the pact, in a friend's bedroom at a party, with an older guy who'd supplied us with pot. I was a month younger than her, but I wasn't able to uphold my end of the pact. Fate would have it that for the first time since sixth grade, I didn't have a boyfriend.
When I turned eighteen, I joined a ska band. I was the only girl, and the youngest by five years. The lead singer was the hottest guy I'd ever seen, and I soon crushed hard for him. My parents wouldn't let me hang out with him outside of practice, because in their infinite wisdom they knew it was a bad idea for their
******** to hang out with a twenty-one-year-old man. But we flirted during practice, and he would call occasionally.
One night, I'd had it. I was the only one of my tight circle of friends to remain a virgin. I had absolutely no glorified fantasies about what my first time would be like. I was very practical about it. I thought it might be physically uncomfortable, and I knew it would be super-awkward in every sense of the word.
I didn't expect candles or poetry or long embraces. So I knew he was perfect. He didn't love me at all, nor I him, crush aside. I figured, "Let me get this shitty experience over with once and for all."
On this particular night I called him and we flirted a little bit. I then blurted out, "So are you going to sneak me out or not?" He wasn't as eager as you might imagine, possibly thanks to the thought of my six-foot-four-inch ****** catching him stealing me away. I actually had to ****** him. I seduced him. But he finally agreed after a flash of my breasts.
I crept out of my house and down the long driveway. Once at the bottom, I packed a bowl and smoked it, partially out of nervousness and maybe partially for him to think I was more grown up. ('Cause, you know, weed makes you grown up.) He picked me up, and I found it very difficult to muster any conversation because I was so completely stoned. My mouth was dry and all I could do was concentrate on "acting normal."
We had to sneak into his house because he still lived with his parents. In my state, I had trouble being quiet, and I remember him hushing me a couple times. Once we were inside his room, he didn't turn on the lights. I sat on the bed, there was some disrobing on both our parts, he put on a condom, and the next thing I knew, he was inside me. My vagina was stretched out and I had a full feeling and sparks traveled up my spine. I was shaking uncontrollably and my pussy was in constant spasm as his cocks rubbed my insides. As he was wearing protection I did not feel the warm gush of his cum as he ejaculated in me. It neither hurt nor felt totally mind blowing amazing. I just remember thinking, "So this is what it feels like." It felt good but it lacked permanence or memorability.
10 minutes later, it was over, and he was getting dressed. Again, I had expected no romance, but the speed with which he got dressed — keys in hand, ready to take me home — annoyed me a little bit. It was really no different than my awkward first French kiss by the flagpole — although at least that boy still spoke to me afterwards.
I'd always been a sexually charged *****, and had been masturbating as far back as I could remember, long before I had any clue what I was doing. Perhaps stemming from a lack of self-confidence, I'd always been one of the more promiscuous girls in my class. I confused boys' hormonal lust with actual interest in me. Any attention was better than no attention, and I sought as much of it as possible.
"I'd always been one of the more promiscuous girls in my class..."
I was the first girl in sixth grade to French kiss a boy. This involved notes ****** in the hallway and an agreement to meet at the flagpole after school, followed by approximately seven awkward seconds of sloppy, fruity-gum-filled tonguing. In seventh grade, I was also among the first girls in my class to have a boy feel under my shirt and down my pants. Later on I was one of the first to perform oral sex. These were all with my "boyfriends," though for the most part they seemed to come and go in a matter of weeks or even days.
High school changed everything, or everyone. Suddenly, the girls who called me a slut in
Earlier years in school were losing their virginities left and right. I made a pact with my best friend that we would lose ours before the a certain age. She kept her end of the pact, in a friend's bedroom at a party, with an older guy who'd supplied us with pot. I was a month younger than her, but I wasn't able to uphold my end of the pact. Fate would have it that for the first time since sixth grade, I didn't have a boyfriend.
When I turned eighteen, I joined a ska band. I was the only girl, and the youngest by five years. The lead singer was the hottest guy I'd ever seen, and I soon crushed hard for him. My parents wouldn't let me hang out with him outside of practice, because in their infinite wisdom they knew it was a bad idea for their
******** to hang out with a twenty-one-year-old man. But we flirted during practice, and he would call occasionally.
One night, I'd had it. I was the only one of my tight circle of friends to remain a virgin. I had absolutely no glorified fantasies about what my first time would be like. I was very practical about it. I thought it might be physically uncomfortable, and I knew it would be super-awkward in every sense of the word.
I didn't expect candles or poetry or long embraces. So I knew he was perfect. He didn't love me at all, nor I him, crush aside. I figured, "Let me get this shitty experience over with once and for all."
On this particular night I called him and we flirted a little bit. I then blurted out, "So are you going to sneak me out or not?" He wasn't as eager as you might imagine, possibly thanks to the thought of my six-foot-four-inch ****** catching him stealing me away. I actually had to ****** him. I seduced him. But he finally agreed after a flash of my breasts.
I crept out of my house and down the long driveway. Once at the bottom, I packed a bowl and smoked it, partially out of nervousness and maybe partially for him to think I was more grown up. ('Cause, you know, weed makes you grown up.) He picked me up, and I found it very difficult to muster any conversation because I was so completely stoned. My mouth was dry and all I could do was concentrate on "acting normal."
We had to sneak into his house because he still lived with his parents. In my state, I had trouble being quiet, and I remember him hushing me a couple times. Once we were inside his room, he didn't turn on the lights. I sat on the bed, there was some disrobing on both our parts, he put on a condom, and the next thing I knew, he was inside me. My vagina was stretched out and I had a full feeling and sparks traveled up my spine. I was shaking uncontrollably and my pussy was in constant spasm as his cocks rubbed my insides. As he was wearing protection I did not feel the warm gush of his cum as he ejaculated in me. It neither hurt nor felt totally mind blowing amazing. I just remember thinking, "So this is what it feels like." It felt good but it lacked permanence or memorability.
10 minutes later, it was over, and he was getting dressed. Again, I had expected no romance, but the speed with which he got dressed — keys in hand, ready to take me home — annoyed me a little bit. It was really no different than my awkward first French kiss by the flagpole — although at least that boy still spoke to me afterwards.
