logo by Friday, December 10, 2004
[This story is true. Although I did change a few details to protect the guilty]
"My parents are going out of town this weekend and I want you to come over and fuck me in my bedroom," she said over the telephone.
She was my first girlfriend. It was many years ago but I still remember it vividly. It's not the kind of thing you easily forget. We had been dating for almost a year by this time, but other than an oral quickie in the family room we had never had sex in her parents house, much less in her bedroom.
She said we'd have to be careful, though, because her parent's neighbors were very nosy and my '73 Impala was too easily recognizable. Someone would surely notice it and would end up asking her parents about the strange old car that was parked in their driveway all night while they were out of town. So we decided we would park it in her parent's garage.
I picked her up around 6:00 pm and we went out for pizza and a movie. As usual she looked amazingly hot. And as usual I had a lot of trouble keeping my hands off of her. But this time she managed to convince me to be patient for just a few hours, reminding me that I could do whatever I wanted to her as soon as we got back to her parent's house.
By the time we got back we were both pretty fired up and couldn't wait to get inside. But first we had to hide the Impala. Little did we understand, however, that somewhere along the line home builders had stopped making garages that were large enough to easily swallow a 20-foot-long automobile. Technically, the garage was big enough. Just barely. But to get the old land yacht in there would mean having to move everything else out of the garage. So for 20 minutes we worked feverishly in the heat of the summer night, moving boxes, bicycles, tools, and all sorts of other crap out of the way. By the time we were done we were dirty and sweaty, but thank goodness the huge old behemoth finally slid in with just inches to spare.
I watched her close the garage door and then followed her up to the front porch. Her hair was sweaty and tousled. There was a glistening of perspiration on her bare arms, and her thin, pink, cotton tank top clung to her skin in such a way that, except for the outline of her bra, you could almost imagine it wasn't there at all. When we got to the door she glanced around the neighborhood in a half-hearted attempt to make sure no one was looking and then quickly ushered me inside and closed and locked the door behind her.
No sooner had the lock clicked in the door when I grabbed her and swooped her hot little body up into my arms. Startled and delighted, she let out a shriek and a laugh and dropped her keys on the floor. They would have to stay there. The thought of banging my little angel in her childhood bed had been driving me crazy all evening to the point where I simply could not wait another minute. Not that she would have wanted me to stop anyway.
As she continued to laugh and shriek I whisked her down the hall to her bedroom, tossed her down onto her bed, and then jumped on top of her, pinning her slender arms above her head and smothering her mouth with a long, deep, wet kiss. Then, freeing her arms I slid my hands underneath her and inside her tank top, unfastening her bra, and helping her to wriggle out of it while still keeping the tank top on. Then I reached down and unzipped my shorts, kicked my shoes off, pulled off my shorts and underwear, and tossed them on the floor. Meanwhile, she was already unsnapping her little denim shorts. I reached down and pulled off her sneakers and then, straightening her legs, slid her shorts off over her socks.
Then, spreading her legs, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her underwear, using my mouth and nose to gently massage her pussy through the thin material. She closed her eyes and let out a soft little moan, arching her back and neck. And as she instinctively lifted her hips up to me I slid off her underwear and then kneeled back on the bed to admire her.
Her stomach was firm and flat. Her pussy was neatly trimmed on the edges, but still mostly natural (girls rarely did the full shave back then) and the hair in the middle was wet from plenty of lubrication and anticipation. There was dirt and dust from the garage on her thighs and tank top. Her chest was rising and falling quickly with each breath. Her body was shining with perspiration, and the tank top clung deliciously to her firm little breasts, clearly outlining the shape of her hard nipples. Her pretty eyes looked up at me with an expression of lust, love, and curiosity.
When I took her that night it was hard and rough, mostly devoid of the tenderness with which I usually made love to her, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to have a certain amount of wild abandon that night that I can't remember ever having seen in her before. Maybe it was the naughtiness of doing it in her childhood bed. Maybe it was the dirt and sweat that we had both accumulated in the garage. Maybe it was the unusually hot sticky heat of that summer night.
After we were done, as we lay there on the sweaty sheets looking up at the ceiling and catching our breath, she said "God you were rough tonight."
"I know," was all I could think to say as I replayed in my mind the pounding I had given her little body. But by the time I turned to look back at her her eyes were closed and she had fallen asleep, still wearing her socks and the dirty pink tank top.
"My parents are going out of town this weekend and I want you to come over and fuck me in my bedroom," she said over the telephone.
She was my first girlfriend. It was many years ago but I still remember it vividly. It's not the kind of thing you easily forget. We had been dating for almost a year by this time, but other than an oral quickie in the family room we had never had sex in her parents house, much less in her bedroom.
She said we'd have to be careful, though, because her parent's neighbors were very nosy and my '73 Impala was too easily recognizable. Someone would surely notice it and would end up asking her parents about the strange old car that was parked in their driveway all night while they were out of town. So we decided we would park it in her parent's garage.
I picked her up around 6:00 pm and we went out for pizza and a movie. As usual she looked amazingly hot. And as usual I had a lot of trouble keeping my hands off of her. But this time she managed to convince me to be patient for just a few hours, reminding me that I could do whatever I wanted to her as soon as we got back to her parent's house.
By the time we got back we were both pretty fired up and couldn't wait to get inside. But first we had to hide the Impala. Little did we understand, however, that somewhere along the line home builders had stopped making garages that were large enough to easily swallow a 20-foot-long automobile. Technically, the garage was big enough. Just barely. But to get the old land yacht in there would mean having to move everything else out of the garage. So for 20 minutes we worked feverishly in the heat of the summer night, moving boxes, bicycles, tools, and all sorts of other crap out of the way. By the time we were done we were dirty and sweaty, but thank goodness the huge old behemoth finally slid in with just inches to spare.
I watched her close the garage door and then followed her up to the front porch. Her hair was sweaty and tousled. There was a glistening of perspiration on her bare arms, and her thin, pink, cotton tank top clung to her skin in such a way that, except for the outline of her bra, you could almost imagine it wasn't there at all. When we got to the door she glanced around the neighborhood in a half-hearted attempt to make sure no one was looking and then quickly ushered me inside and closed and locked the door behind her.
No sooner had the lock clicked in the door when I grabbed her and swooped her hot little body up into my arms. Startled and delighted, she let out a shriek and a laugh and dropped her keys on the floor. They would have to stay there. The thought of banging my little angel in her childhood bed had been driving me crazy all evening to the point where I simply could not wait another minute. Not that she would have wanted me to stop anyway.
As she continued to laugh and shriek I whisked her down the hall to her bedroom, tossed her down onto her bed, and then jumped on top of her, pinning her slender arms above her head and smothering her mouth with a long, deep, wet kiss. Then, freeing her arms I slid my hands underneath her and inside her tank top, unfastening her bra, and helping her to wriggle out of it while still keeping the tank top on. Then I reached down and unzipped my shorts, kicked my shoes off, pulled off my shorts and underwear, and tossed them on the floor. Meanwhile, she was already unsnapping her little denim shorts. I reached down and pulled off her sneakers and then, straightening her legs, slid her shorts off over her socks.
Then, spreading her legs, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her underwear, using my mouth and nose to gently massage her pussy through the thin material. She closed her eyes and let out a soft little moan, arching her back and neck. And as she instinctively lifted her hips up to me I slid off her underwear and then kneeled back on the bed to admire her.
Her stomach was firm and flat. Her pussy was neatly trimmed on the edges, but still mostly natural (girls rarely did the full shave back then) and the hair in the middle was wet from plenty of lubrication and anticipation. There was dirt and dust from the garage on her thighs and tank top. Her chest was rising and falling quickly with each breath. Her body was shining with perspiration, and the tank top clung deliciously to her firm little breasts, clearly outlining the shape of her hard nipples. Her pretty eyes looked up at me with an expression of lust, love, and curiosity.
When I took her that night it was hard and rough, mostly devoid of the tenderness with which I usually made love to her, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to have a certain amount of wild abandon that night that I can't remember ever having seen in her before. Maybe it was the naughtiness of doing it in her childhood bed. Maybe it was the dirt and sweat that we had both accumulated in the garage. Maybe it was the unusually hot sticky heat of that summer night.
After we were done, as we lay there on the sweaty sheets looking up at the ceiling and catching our breath, she said "God you were rough tonight."
"I know," was all I could think to say as I replayed in my mind the pounding I had given her little body. But by the time I turned to look back at her her eyes were closed and she had fallen asleep, still wearing her socks and the dirty pink tank top.
