He Made Me Cum Almost Instantly
I felt safe with him, maybe that’s why.
I wasn’t a virgin. He wasn’t my first lover, but he was my first love. The first time we kissed I understood what Hollywood fireworks were all about.
It started with spin the bottle.
I knew we were too old for it, but I wanted a chance to kiss his soft lips.
I was 22 and had never been in love.
Are your sex-hungry eyes rolling yet? Keep reading and this pre-teen love story will get juicy.
I met him that night while at a party with some mutual friends. He was the extrovert to my introvert. We hit it off, but I wanted to keep him at a distance. Perhaps because I’d never felt an attraction like it before.
When I invited him and his friends over for an after-party, I was curious. I wanted to taste him. When the bottle landed on him our spin the bottle kiss turned into a full-on makeout session. I remember hearing the muffled tones of his guy friends’ whistles and my girlfriends call my name in that “get it girl” kinda tone.
It took us 6 months to date. We took the friends first route because it felt safer that way. The chemistry between us scared me something fierce. The first time we went to a movie together, our hands gently reached for each other and I knew that was it.
Okay, now it’s going to get hot.
He wanted to wait to have sex. When we first made love he moaned, “I love you, Harmony” softly into my ear. It was so soft, I felt frightened to ask him to repeat it. I wasn’t ready to bare my heart to him. My vagina, however, was ready to unleash her goddess powers.
I was 22 and had never orgasmed, and the sex I’d had thus far had been less than enjoyable. You could say I was a little repressed. An event that happened when I was 3-years-old sent me the message that touching my vagina was a shameful act. So I didn’t. For 19 years. A look — a glare really — that I received from my mother as she walked in while I was rubbing my clit up against my wooden toybox left me with enough shame to repress the urge to play with myself — until I fell in love.
I remember that night like it was yesterday.
The light was on in the tiny bedroom of my shared apartment. He sat on my bed by the bare white wall, still wearing his navy blue down vest — his curly hair hanging just below his ears. He slowly slid my pants off and started to caress my breasts. When he touched my nipples I got wet. Very wet.
His hazel eyes were staring deeply into mine — with an intensity that made me feel safe.
As he started to rub my clit an electric surge rang through my body. I started to feel tingly all over. My face felt flush. My eyes were locked into his. It didn’t take long for the warm tingling to take me over. I shuddered. I started to moan and shake. His fingers continued to gently stroke my clit while his other hand massaged one of my breasts. I wrapped my arms around his and moaned uncontrollably. He inserted his fingers gently into me and I moaned some more and then started to smile. He pulled his fingers out and smiled at me, baring his sexy dimples. His eyes were bright.
“So that’s why they say this is so good,” I said, still smiling. “Is it always that easy to orgasm?”
His loving smirk bore a hole into my soul. “I think you just like me.”
“I think maybe I do. Just a little. Well, my vagina does anyway,” I said, smirking back at him. And then we just held each other for a while. I basked in the glow of that first orgasm the entire night.
And then I wanted more.
Oh so much more.
