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An Overprotective Mom
Kathryn M. Burke
My name is Amy Watkins. I’m going to tell you a story that shows the bad things that can happen when a mom is too overprotective. Parents, take note!
My first year of college was tough. I felt kind of unprepared, so I just hit the books and had almost no social life. Also, I was stuck in a freshman dorm with a roommate I really didn’t like very much, and that kind of soured my whole outlook on life. But at the beginning of sophomore year, I not only celebrated my nineteenth birthday but managed to get an apartment just a few blocks off campus. It was a pretty small place, with only a living room, galley kitchen, and a super-tiny bedroom that barely had enough space for a queen-size bed; but it was my own place, and I didn’t have to let anybody in that I didn’t want!
One person I did want in the place was Matt Kenney. He was my boyfriend.
At least, I thought of him like that, even though we hadn’t done much yet. I’d met him the year before in a history class, and he struck me as fairly nice. Not exactly an Einstein in the brains department, but at least he wasn’t an arrogant bastard like so many other guys around campus. In fact, he was really kind of sweet. I know some guys don’t like to be called “sweet”–but it’s a compliment, you nitwits!
Anyway, I’d decided that after a few weeks of “going out” in the casual way you do in college, it was time for–well, you know.
That’s right, folks. I’m a virgin. But I didn’t want to be for much longer.
During freshman year, I’d met a lot of girls who were “doing it” with various guys–it almost didn’t seem to matter who they were. I mean, here we were, on our own and away from our parents for the first time, and you gotta have fun sometimes, don’t you? So I heard all kinds of stories from my friends about how they’d spread their legs for anyone who was available–and there were plenty, believe me! Guys just looking to score at every possible moment. I got the impression that some of these encounters weren’t exactly consensual from the girl’s point of view, and I didn’t want to go that route.
I wanted to control the situation as well as I could, and that meant getting Matt to my place and making sure my “first time” was a truly memorable event.
Well, it certainly was–but not quite in the way I expected.
I planned things for a Saturday night, so we wouldn’t have to get up early and go to class the next day. I didn’t think I’d have much difficulty persuading Matt to “go all the way.” I had a feeling he was more than a little impatient to get things moving along that front, although I knew he was a gentleman and would never force the issue. So I wanted to put him out of his misery.
I’d given a lot of thought to what it would feel like. I mean, it’s not the same for boys as it is for girls, is it? Some guys just don’t get it. The girl is putting a part of someone else’s body–a very important part, at least from the guy’s point of view–into herself, and so there’s always this sense of being, well, invaded.
Don’t get the idea I’m one of these crazy feminists who think that every act of sex is somehow forced. That’s nonsense. In this case, I really wanted it. But I just wished I knew what it felt like. When I asked some of my friends who’d “done” it, they just rolled their eyes and said, “Oh, Amy, there’s no way I can describe it!” Thanks a lot! Not helpful at all. I suppose I could have stuck a dildo or a cucumber or something up myself–but for one thing, I didn’t have a dildo, and for another thing I didn’t want to waste a cucumber in that way. Also, I wanted to keep myself “intact” (if you catch my meaning) for Matt, even if he ended up freaking out over the blood and the mess and stuff. Maybe I’d freak out too, but it’s all a rite of passage, isn’t it?
So here we were, going back to my apartment after we’d wolfed down some pizza at a nearby Italian restaurant. I’m sure Matt knew what was in store, because he seemed a bit on the jumpy side. For my part, I didn’t want him to lunge at me the moment we set foot in my place. I mean, you gotta work your way up to that, don’t you? A little romance and cuddling might be nice to start with.
It was a warm day in early October, so we weren’t exactly bundled up with a lot of heavy clothes. After I settled Matt down on my tiny couch (really a loveseat–appropriately enough!), I put on a CD of some nice romantic music–and then plopped myself on his lap! He wasn’t expecting that, but he didn’t make any objections.
I’m a little on the short side–five foot four–but I like to think I have the whole package. I know guys get fixated on boobs and butts and whatnot, but I feel I’m a nice little item from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. And Matt was nice too. He wasn’t super-tall (five foot six, I’d say)–and I liked that. I’m so tired of having to crane my neck up to talk to some ridiculously tall guy. I always get the ankara escort bayanlar feeling he’s looking down at me in every sense of the word. Most of the time, I could look Matt in the eye. And right now, Matt’s face was right at the level of my tits!
No wonder he didn’t complain.
I was wearing a thin tanktop, but even so I’d gotten a bit hot in it, so the top of my chest (including some hefty cleavage) had a sheen of sweat on it. I think Matt liked that, because he rested his head on my chest and inhaled deeply, as if taking in my body-scent. His body-scent was nice too. He was wearing only a T-shirt and shorts, and I longed to pull that shirt up and get a look at his own chest. There were little tufts of hair sticking up from the neckline, and I liked that. I don’t like a lot of hair on a guy–makes him look like some kind of animal–but a little is just right.
Well, with the effect of the music and our close embrace, things were moving right along. From where I was sitting on his lap, I began to sense something growing down in the area of his groin. A good sign!
So that’s when I said, “Why don’t you take my blouse off?”
He looked wide-eyed at me. Was he a virgin too? From certain things he’d said I thought he wasn’t, but who knows? Maybe he was just bragging about nothing. Anyway, he seemed pretty nervous when he tugged at my tanktop and lifted it up over my head.
I was wearing a white bra, and he gazed at it as if it was some kind of holy grail. I didn’t want to fluster him by having him fumble with the clasps (guys are terrible at taking a bra off!), so I did it myself.
When he saw my tits, his face kind of crumpled up into a weird little grimace that was almost painful. He let out a whispered “Oh!” and placed a hand tenatively on one of my breasts. It’s fairly large (32D), and it filled his hand right up. It was firm but also soft, and he bent his head forward and placed his lips on the nipple. He just placed them there, not sucking or licking or anything. I wish he had! My nipples are super-sensitive, and I always play with them (usually twirling them between my fingers) when I pleasure myself.
But there wasn’t going to be any masturbation this time! If I came, it was going to be through Matt’s efforts, not mine.
He now put his head between my breasts and pressed them against his cheeks. I wondered how he could breathe like that, but he seemed in seventh heaven. Well, this was all very nice for him, but I wanted to move on to the main event. So I pulled his head away, got up from his lap, and, looking straight at him, pulled my skirt (and my panties along with them) off of me.
So now I was naked–the first time in a man’s presence! A little shiver went through me, but Matt’s reaction was even more amazing. I thought he was going to faint. Guys, I’m not that beautiful! But he seemed to think he was looking at the Venus de Milo. Very flattering, but I wanted him to do more than look.
I went up to him, pulled his T-shirt off the top of his head, and had him stand up. He seemed a little shaky on his knees. Then I knelt down and, in a single motion, whipped his shorts and underwear off. I did it so fast that his cock–which was already pretty hard, as I suspected it would be–sprung up like a jack-in-the-box and almost hit me in the face. That was pretty funny!
But when I saw the thing, I wasn’t in much of a mood for laughing. It was, if I may be blunt, huge.
Well, maybe not huge. I didn’t have a ruler right on the spot, but I’d have to say it was about eight inches. Somehow I wasn’t expecting that: I figured that, with him not being super-tall, his thing wouldn’t be so big either. Mistake! I did wonder how–or even whether–I could get it in me, but of course I’d gone too far to back out now.
While I was there on my knees in front of him, I thought I might as well put that thing of his in my mouth. So I did.
What a strange feeling! I won’t say it had any sort of taste (but it did have a smell–a pretty strong smell, which I couldn’t decide if I liked or not), but there was such a peculiar combination of hardness and softness (I’m referring to the soft skin all around the shaft) that I couldn’t imagine any other part of a male or female body quite like it. No wonder everyone–both guys and gals–have a sort of obsession with a cock. It’s a strange implement, all right!
I sucked on it a bit, and also tickled the balls with my fingers. I’d been told guys really like that. Matt sure seemed to: the moment I touched that little sac (which looked like it had two big marbles in it), my let out a soft moan of pleasure. I was actually afraid he might come in my mouth–which I emphatically did not want. Most of my girlfriends had said something like, “Ycch! I hate having come in my mouth!”–although there was one girl who said she loved drinking the stuff. No accounting for tastes. It’s really salty, they say. Why the hell is it salty? I guess you need to be a biologist to know that.
Anyway, ankara esmer escortlar I got up and led him to my bedroom–by his cock. Yup, I took hold of his tool and guided him to my bed. He didn’t seem to mind.
Once again I’d reached a crucial moment. I didn’t want him to just plunge into me without so much as a by-your-leave. Where’s the romance in that? This is a big moment for a girl–remember that, guys! As I said before, you have to work your way up to it.
I should have known Matt wouldn’t ruin things. When I lay down on the bed, on my back with my legs spread, he got on top of me–but didn’t go right in. Instead, he again made love to my breasts (he couldn’t seem to get enough of them) and then, to my surprise and delight, he slid down so that his head was in front of my sex.
Omigod! Could it be that he was going to make me come before he came himself?
A lot of my friends had complained about how so many guys were just interested in their own pleasure. Some of them couldn’t even be bothered to make a girl come at all, let alone making her come before they did. But Matt was a gentleman–didn’t I tell you that? Grabbing my butt with both hands, he buried his head in my already damp pussy and began licking like there was no tomorrow. Of course, he started gently, but pretty soon he’d worked up a good rhythm where he was was both licking my labia and even nibbling a bit on my clitoris and, at times, sticking his tongue as far into my vagina as he could. That wasn’t very far, and I don’t know if he came in contact with my hymen–but I can assure you I was in ecstasy! I was clutching the sheets with my hands, tossing my head back and forth, and crying out like a banshee. A guy was actually making me come! Holy smokes, it was great!
And I did come–explosively. In fact, I think Matt got a little alarmed when I let out a kind of shriek or wail when my orgasm pulsed out of my sex and bathed my entire body in a delightful warmth. My vision got all blurry, and my tongue was sticking out of my mouth. I almost felt like I was choking. But it was all good, and Matt knew enough to keep on gently licking me until the last remnants of my climax finally washed over me.
At this point I became totally convinced he’d done this before. Licking pussy the way he did takes too much practice–no way this could be his first time at the job!
I now knew the moment of truth had come–for me.
He worked his way up my body, with my legs on either side of his hips. His cock was kind of knocking at the door of my pussy, if you get what I mean, but he hadn’t gone in yet. He was looking down at me with a mixture of eagerness and hesitation. I guess he knew I was a virgin and was worried about hurting me.
He even asked, “May I go in now?”
I said, “Oh, God, yes! Please!”
So he went in.
Or he tried to. His cock met that silly barrier all too quickly, and I guess he was being so careful not to cause me pain that he couldn’t get past it. I almost wanted to shout at him, “Guy, you gotta go for broke! Just use your thing as a battering ram!” But he figured out all on his own that that’s what he had to–and he did.
So what’s it like to have your hymen punctured? Well, let’s just say it’s more than the jab of a needle in your arm–a lot more! I cried out in pain, and I think even a tear or two leaked out of my eyes. I saw that Matt had this look of sorrow, even grief, that he was hurting me. I wanted to tell him, “Guy, it’s just what a girl has to go through–don’t take it personally.” But I could hardly speak. Anyway, now that his cock was going farther and farther into me, it felt kind of like a little mole tunneling through my body. But I liked it! Sure, I felt stetched, as the walls of my vagina had to accommodate this strange new toy for the first time; but you just feel so filled when a guy goes into you. There’s such an incredible sense of connection with your man: I felt a surge of affection for him that almost overwhelmed me.
Almost immediately I raised my legs and bent my knees, hooking my legs over his thighs. That made it easier for Matt–better angle, you know. I didn’t know that would happen, but my body did: it seemed to react instinctively. The things you learn on your first time!
By now Matt was plowing into me with enthusiasm. He was also squeezing my breasts and my butt with greedy hands. He just wanted to touch me all over! How sweet of him. He was also plastering kisses on my face and neck and shoulders. I could tell he was getting really worked up–his face was all red, and he was huffing and puffing with effort. Guys really do most of the work during sex, don’t they? Well, most of the time they do. We women just take what they dish out.
And then a look of surprise came over Matt’s face–and he spurted into me.
Now it seemed like he was gagging or choking. He buried his face in the side of my neck as he pumped me full of his stuff. I could feel it pouring out of him and landing in sincan grup yapan escortlar my vagina–and then I felt even more connected to him than before. That stuff of his was really a kind of glue that cemented our relationship. God only knows how long my relationship with him will last. I mean, I really don’t think he’ll be the only guy I’ll ever take to bed. But at this moment, he was the only man in the world for me.
Don’t worry, girls, about his coming in me. I’m not stupid: I waited till I’d just finished my period, so I wouldn’t be fertile for a few weeks. So during that time he can fill me up to his (and my) heart’s content!
He pulled out and heaved himself off of me, landing hard on his back next to me on the bed. His chest was really going, up and down, up and down, as he gazed up at the ceiling. His face was covered with sweat–in fact, his whole body was, and I noticed that some of that sweat had gotten transferred to me, as my front was all wet. Maybe some of the sweat was mine. Copulation takes a lot of exertion, even for the girl. I mean, it’s not as if I just lie there like a sex doll.
I could already feel his stuff leaking out of me–and then, of course, I noticed some other stuff oozing out.
Just in time I snatched some Kleenex and wiped myself up before the mix of semen and blood fell onto the sheets. It’s probably a stain that’s nearly impossible to get out in the wash! I also saw that Matt’s cock had some streaks of blood on it. Like a good little mom I took some more Kleenex and mopped it all up.
He looked over to me and said, “You okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Just fine.”
There was a bit of throbbing in my pussy, but otherwise I felt great. I was no longer a virgin! I suddenly felt that I belonged to a special sort of club–the club of women (and I really felt like a woman now, not a girl) who’d experienced the wonder of a cock up their twat. I really felt sorry for all the girls out there who hadn’t had done this–it really is impossible to describe!
But right now, I just felt like cuddling my new lover, and so I draped my body against his side and snuggled up to him. He put his arm around me and gave me soft little kisses on my face and neck. At least he wasn’t one of those thoughtless guys who just “roll over and fall asleep” after doing a girl. That would have been horrible!
I let my fingers trace little circles all over his chest, and then his stomach. I couldn’t stop myself from going down farther and taking his soft cock in my hand. It felt like an inner tube with just a little air in it–so different from when it was hard as a pestle! But as I continued to play with it, rolling it around with my fingers, pressing it against his belly, and seeing one final drop of come ooze out of it, I noticed something I didn’t expect.
It was getting hard again.
I was stunned. One of my girl friends had told me that guys couldn’t do it a second time without a long period of rest–a few hours, or even a whole day–to recuperate. But here was Matt getting big almost as soon as he’d come out of me! Well, maybe it had been about fifteen minutes, but it was still incredible to me that this was happening. I became fixated on that thing of his, getting stiff and straight right in front of my eyes.
“Wh-what’s happening?” I said nervously.
“What does it look like?” he said–a little smugly.
“You really want to do it again?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Oh, Matt, I’m pretty sore down there. I don’t know if I could let you in me again so soon.”
It seemed he was lost in thought, as if pondering some difficult problem in philosophy. At last he said, “We could do something else.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. Was he going to suggest some perverted kind of activity that he’d seen in some porn film? I suddenly felt like a virgin again, facing a guy who was way more experienced than me.
“What?” I finally said.
I should have realized what he was going to say, because by now his arm had slid down my back and was squeezing my butt as if he couldn’t get enough of it. I like to think I have a nice butt–you know, firm and round and cushiony–but I still didn’t expect him to say: “I could go in here.”
It took me a second or two to realize what he meant. Then I gasped.
“You–you want to do that?” I whispered.
“Have you done it before?”
“Well, no. But I’ve always wanted to try it. Would you like to?”
“I don’t know. It seems yucky to me.”
That’s how one friend had described it. Apparently this procedure had become pretty popular–with the guys, anyway–on college campuses, and girls were now facing the prospect of having to do it with their boyfriends or else seeing those guys go wandering off to some more accommodating girl. One of my friends had scrunched up her face and said, “Omigod, it hurts like hell!” But another had said, “Oh, you can get used to it. It just takes some practice.”
So this was my dilemma. Do I let Matt invade my butt or not? I didn’t think he would be one of those guys who dumped a girl just because she wouldn’t do that. But at the same time I didn’t want to disappoint him. He’d been super-nice to me up to this point, and I’m sure he didn’t want to hurt me if he could help it.
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