My First Time


This is a contribution to the Survivor Revival Challenge, organized by Tara Cox. My first eleven stories were called My Junior Year Abroad. Next up was the little story, “Why I love Wives.” This is my thirteenth story for this challenge, and I hope the stories are helping.


Melissa’s a freshman and trying to meet a guy


I was fairly innocent to the ways of the world when I entered college. I was excited about my classes, but I tended to like subjects that attracted women (naturally enough) and gay men. It took me a while to realize the problem with this, since classes are a natural way to meet a romantic love interest, something I was looking forward to happening.

Nope. Not happening.

Well, there are lots of other ways, too, right? Friends, for example. My roommate had a boyfriend, and I was often banished from the room so the two of them could have some hanky-panky. I’d waste away in the library, sometimes being the only person there, but at least I never fell behind in my studies. My roommate was thoughtful, and she would text me when it was okay for me to return. I was kind of hoping I’d meet a really cool friend of my roommate’s boyfriend, you know?

Nope. Never happened.

I tried out for the orchestra. Hey, there were guys in the orchestra, and I was third chair violin at my small high school, and we’d have a love of music in common, but this was college, and I didn’t make the cut.

Scratch that.

I decided to take my pride, and put it in my wastebasket. I wrote the words ‘self-respect’ on a piece of paper and threw it into my wastebasket. I could always retrieve it later if I changed my mind, right? Having done that, I went to the welcome dance.

Before the dance I shaved myself smooth, and I applied my perfumed creams all over my lithe bod, making my skin soft and rich to the touch. You know, just in case? I thought long and hard about what to wear.

I wanted to look appealing, but obviously not like a tramp, nor a slut. I wasn’t going there for meaningless, gratuitous sex, but rather to meet a guy. Sure, I knew if I met a guy, we’d kiss and stuff (we’d better at least kiss!), but mostly I wanted a guy. Serious sex could wait. Serious sex had already waited eighteen and a half years; it could wait a little longer. After all, I’m not a slut, of that much I was sure.

At the last minute I made a change of clothes. I decided to use my boobs as an area of attraction, and I took out my push-up bra, about to make its maiden appearance. I wore a slightly low-cut blouse, and looked in the mirror. All I saw were my boobs, but frankly, not enough of them. Okay guys, I thought to myself, you’re in for a treat tonight, and I switched to a top that had some serious décolletage. I had never before had the guts to wear that particular top.

Desperate times call for desperate acts, right?

Well, the dance was chock-a-block full of freshman girls, just like myself, except that the other freshman girls were trying to look like porn actresses or something. A good half of them were not even wearing bras, and the other half were wearing skirts that were so short their panties were on display with the slightest movement. I was wearing an outfit that I had innocently thought pushed me to the edge of decency, and yet comparatively speaking, I looked like a nun!

Well, as it turned out, there was a guy at the dance who must have had a thing for nuns. How else could I explain it? Or maybe I reminded him of his sister, or worse, his Mom? Of maybe he was a neurotic wimp and the flagrant out-there sexiness of the other girls intimidated him? Who knows why, but he seemed interested in me, of all people!

I decided not to analyze what his problems were that led him to being interested in me, and just to go with the flow. Gaziantep Evi Olan Escort We danced, and of course I was a much better dancer, but hey: He was a guy, and he wanted to dance with me. Just then, that was enough for yours truly!

Just to emphasize he was a guy, his hands began to roam around my body as we danced. Not knowing how to handle that, I just let him do whatever he wanted. After a while, I figured I should show more interest in him, so I put my hands around his neck, as we swayed together during a slow dance. I pushed my boobs into his expansive, hopelessly masculine, chest. I ran my hands through his rich, golden hair, and he seemed to like that, because all of a sudden, he pulled my body flush against his.

Oh, yeah. There it was. Hard, and firm, and – it seemed to my inexperience mind – big, threatening, and promising. This guy, Sam was his name (I’m Melissa), had gotten an erection. Correction: I had given him an erection. He was hard, and it was due to me!

I can’t tell you how thrilling that was for me at the time, to know that I was attractive enough to a guy (who actually didn’t know me at all; all he knew was how I looked and acted at the dance) for him to get an erection, all due to me!

Sam and I took a break from the dancing and had some more of the rather heavily spiked punch. It was so loud, we couldn’t talk. Sam suggested going outside with him for some air, and quite frankly it seemed like a good idea. Once we were outside, he went to kiss me. For once in my life I was prepared, and expecting him to make a move like that, and I welcomed his kiss and kissed him back.

We kissed for a while, just standing there outside the dance hall, and once again his hands roamed all over my body as we kissed; and once again I just let his hands do whatever his hands wanted to do. People began to walk by us, and Sam actually got embarrassed before I did. For me, I was kind of showing off to myself: Hey, look at me! A bona fide heterosexual male is after my bod!

Sam made the next predictable move. He invited me to come to see his room. All the rooms were more or less the same: two desks, two desk chairs, two closets, two chests of drawers, and two twin beds. Sometimes the two twin beds were bunk beds, but that just meant either the room was small, or there were three to a room, with bunk beds and a twin bed. There was no mystery for me, nothing new to see.

Of course, Sam knew that, too. What he really wanted was to get me to his room to see how far he could go with me. I told him I’d love to go.

We got to Sam’s room and he put a tie on the doorknob. He had the very predictable poster from the Sports Ilustrated Swimsuit edition of some busty swimwear model with her tits almost spilling out of her top. We sat on the bed he said was his, and we kissed some more. He made his move and awkwardly removed my blouse, quickly followed by my bra. In only two hours of knowing me, he had now achieved what Eric Schmidt in high school achieved during our entire senior year, although after Eric had finally got out my tits the first time, he did it every single time thereafter.

An hour later Sam had broken Eric’s record, and he had my skirt off, too. Next, my nylons were off, and I was down to my panties, and they were most definitely not coming off! This was college, however, and not high school, and Sam was no Eric. Some slut at Sam’s high school must have taught him how to please a girl, because as his left hand wondrously caressed my boobs, his right hand slipped under my panties, and became the first male hand ever to touch my pussy.

I say the first male hand, because Rebecca Andersen’s hand had explored my pussy rather thoroughly at summer camp, just last summer. Rebecca was definitely a lesbian, but as for me? Color me curious. I would have preferred it if that same person Rebecca was actually a Robert or something, because I loved Rebecca; we were perfect for each other. Damn it, though, when it comes to sex, I like men.

Sam’s a man, and as luck would have it, Sam’s hands were as talented at loving my pussy as Rebecca’s had been! There wasn’t the overlay of love with Sam, not yet, anyway, that there had been with Rebecca, but the sex itself was identical. So, I did it. I broke my own rules. When Sam went to remove my panties, I raised my hips in a flagrant gesture of cooperation.

Sam went down on me. Just like Rebecca had done before during summer camp, he spread my legs, took in the view, and then placed his mouth at my pussy, and licked and caressed and drove me quickly to a lovely climax, all with his mouth. At the same time, he had also removed his clothes, and I felt the warmth and hardness of his cock leaning against my soft, feminine thigh. It felt good. Therein lay the difference between Rebecca’s love making and that of Sam: The constant presence of Sam’s hard cock.

I had to admit: The presence of Sam’s cock gave him the edge over the hugely talented Rebecca.

I knew I had to do something for Sam. He had given me such pleasure, on top of the thrill of being desired, and being desired by a bona fide guy (and not, for example, another girl, or worse, nobody at all), that I truly wanted to give him pleasure, too.

A hand job, or a blowjob? Yes, that was the question. It wasn’t Hamlet’s question; I wasn’t considering suicide after all. However, at that moment, and for me, it seemed just as momentous.

I had given Eric quite a few hand jobs, our senior year of high school, and quite frankly, he seemed to love them. I had never, however, given him a blowjob. It had just always seemed too gross to me. Suddenly, though, I felt as if maybe it was finally the time to try to give one. I could explain to Sam it was my first time. He seemed like a nice guy, and he’d understand.

Sam was saying something. I think it was “May I?” but I hadn’t been paying attention, being lost in thought as I was. So, I did what I always do when my mind wanders; I said, “Yes, of course.”

Sam seemed surprised and happy, both. I quickly learned I had unwittingly told Sam he could fuck me, and believe me when I tell you that he gave me no time, no time at all, to change my mind! My pussy was already soaking wet from his cunnilingus and my orgasm, and by George, his cock just slipped in, presto boom-oh!

Just like that, I was no longer a virgin! I had long ago lost my hymen to the bar of my brother’s bicycle, but never before had a man’s cock been inside me! I was in a state of shock, not having expected it, but it was happening nonetheless, and I had had enough sex education to know that once the cock enters you, you are definitely fucking. So if this was going to be my first time, well then hey, let’s make it good!

I’d watched porn, read sexy novels, and listened to the tales of my slutty friends (Rebecca Andersen included, as she had slept with several guys before she decided she was into women, and she told me everything, and I mean the whole shebang, blow by blow). The upshot is that I knew what to do. It was: A little talking, and a lot of moaning, and then to tell him how good he was, and let’s do it again. I knew exactly what to do.

All of my extensive knowledge flew right out the window in the face of reality. It was thrilling. I hadn’t known how much I had wanted to fuck! I hadn’t even been really sure, deep down, that I actually did want to fuck. Maybe I was truly a lesbian, like Rebecca?

Nope! Not a chance. There was no question, this was heaven incarnate! Feeling Sam’s hard and – I’ll say it – lovely, cock pumping in me was thrilling beyond belief. I just loved that Sam wanted me that way, a guy as good looking and experienced as Sam, and the sensations! The sensations!

The sensations were indescribably wonderful. Feeling his cock inside me made me feel, finally, like a woman. Even better, it united Sam and me, and it united us as one, it made us no longer two people, but instead one couple, bound together by his cock inside my pussy. I wanted it never to leave; I wanted his pumping never to end. I moaned with each of his thrust. I raised my pelvis to meet his thrusts. I wrapped my long legs around his tight little ass, keeping him there, deep inside me.

For the first time ever, I began to understand Wordsworth, from my Freshman English class. One thinks the strangest things during sex!

There was the ugly issue of potential pregnancy to deal with, and Sam, bless his soul, in the middle of fucking me, asked if he should pull out. “Yes,” I barely managed to utter, as I found myself so lost in the ecstasy of the moment that I could barely speak. He did pull out, only about a minute before I would otherwise have climaxed again, but I didn’t care.

He was squirting as he pulled out, and his squirts were powerful, as if fired out of a gun. His spunk went all the way to my boobs, and one squirt, his first, went up to my mouth. I licked it up with my tongue, I don’t know why, but that one act caused Sam to fall in love with me, the way only freshmen enthralled with sex can fall in love. Sam was most definitely in the thrall of sex. So too was I.

The other thing that caused Sam to fall head first for me, was that moments after Sam had painted my naked body with his cum, his roommate, apparently tired of waiting outside the room due to Sam having put a tie on the doorknob, walked into the room, and saw me, in all my naked glory, freshly ravished, with Sam’s cum decorating my boobs.

What Sam loved, and he never got over it, was my aplomb. Instead of screaming, or trying to hide my nudity, I just lay there, in a post coital daze of extreme happiness, and said, with my nudity out there for all to see:

“Hello. I’m Melissa. And who might you be?”

Sam told me later that he hoped, some day, to make sure those word were engraved on my tombstone. It’s kind of a morbid thing to say, but I got the gist. I found it charming.

I told Sam that he was my first, and I hoped he’d be my second through at least my tenth, and he smiled broadly. I told him one more thing: “Buy some rubbers, okay?”

“Buy a lot,” I added, and that earned another huge smile from Sam.

I made an appointment with student health the next day, and I got a prescription for birth control pills. I had to wait for my period plus five days to start the pills, and then wait a little longer for them to be effective. That meant two and a half weeks. Hence the need for rubbers in the meantime. It turned out ten was a gross under-count.

Oh yes, and to answer your question, dear reader: Sam’s roommate’s name is Juan. The girls call him Don Juan, and they claim the name is apt. I wouldn’t know, of course. Don Juan is clearly interested in laying me; having seen me naked and covered with cum apparently does that to a guy, but I’m loyal to Sam, and I will stay loyal to Sam until he decides to check out some other collegiate pussy. Men are like that, I know. It’ll happen, but it hasn’t yet, and good for Sam. Good for me, too!

I never did resurrect the little note with “self-respect” I had written, and crumpled up, and tossed into my wastebasket. I was having much too much fun.

PS: Sam was very nice when I gave him my first blowjob. I now consider myself to be quite good at them, too!

PPS: One time when Sam was fucking me, good and hard, I saw Juan slip into the room and hide in the bathroom. Sam didn’t notice, but I did, and having Juan watch us fuck, while he was mostly hidden in the bathroom, turned me on to the point that my climax was so intense that I passed out. Things changed after that, but it’s another story.

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