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From: "Nicholas S" <ipqct@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The House in Turlock <*> {Nicholas S} (MF 1st)
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Date: Sat, 18 Feb 2006 03:10:01 -0500
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Author: Nicholas S
Title: The House in Turlock
Summary: "Tempting" she'd said when he suggested they take a
shower together, but she was too shy to agree. Quietly he tried the
bathroom door. It was unlocked. His heart raced...
Keywords: MF 1st


The House in Turlock
(c) 2006 Nicholas S


1.

Dear Diary,

We had a long conversation today about sex. I know he wants it because
he gets more and more insistent every week, every day. Last week it was
so hard to say no: his naked chest touching mine, his slow kisses, his
touching my breasts... there's a longing inside that is so hard to
resist. I feel so lonely when he's not there, and when we're
together it gets harder and harder to resist ending up half-naked in my
bed or his. Last week we were both down to just underwear, and he
pushed my legs up above his shoulders and thrust against me until he
came. I had to clean up quite a mess and change my panties. He was
asleep when I got back into bed, so he doesn't know that I tugged the
elastic of his shorts down and looked at his little penis in its sea of
sperm. So much trouble for such a little thing. But I burn for him too,
only I feel so guilty about feeling it. I swished my finger in it and
tasted it. It wasn't bad, and it made me even wetter down there.

Anyway, we agreed today that sex isn't a good idea yet. We've only
been together for a few weeks, and it seems like such a summer fling.
Are we really serious about each other yet? So I got him to agree not
to bring the little packet of condoms with him to the house in Turlock.
That's a relief, because I know he'd never go all the way without a
condom.


2.

The house is empty except for the two of them and she's taking a
shower. "Tempting" she'd said when he suggested they take one
together, but she was too shy to agree. Quietly he tried the bathroom
door. It was unlocked. His heart raced. He stripped off his shirt, his
shorts, his briefs. He thought of the times his cock had pressed
against her body while he devoured her lips. His naked chest had
pressed against her bare little tits, relieved of the t-shirt that
usually covered them, his body insisting on all she would give. He knew
she enjoyed it. The intensity with which her mouth devoured his, the
demureness with which she yielded to his hands insistently thrusting
her legs apart, the low gasp when he pushed his erection onto her groin
with the entire weight of his body - he knew these meant she desired
him despite the way she always wrenched away from him, panting, begging
him to stop, leaving her tits drenched in his saliva and a faint chalky
taste in his mouth. The most he had managed was to come squirming
against the warm firmness of her pussy, his underwear and hers
protecting her from sin.

In the calm minutes afterward she would turn away and dress quickly,
but it wouldn't take long before her slender legs bewitched him
again. "You're so passionate," she would say as his lips found hers
again, after he pulled her without much resistance onto the couch in
his apartment. Despite his passion he never complimented her on her
body in those long minutes he spent exploring it with his fingers in
the dim light, his relentless erection pressing against whatever part
of her body she would allow. He liked her legs best -- particularly in
the short red shorts she wore all summer to drive him crazy -- cool to
the touch, slightly rough, without the slightest extra fat or, like all
Chinese girls' legs, a single hair to mar their liquid curves. Next
best were her tits, which sometimes seemed like the merest suggestion
of fullness against her chest, the aureoles a luxuriantly dark red, the
nipples as fat as bumble bees.

Today it was almost a week since he'd had relief, and he felt the
need consume every idle moment. Standing naked outside the bathroom, he
touched his half-hard cock and imagined the water running over her
naked body. He pushed the door open slowly and felt the warm gush of
steam envelop him. His hand rested on the light switch. He waited a
full minute before flicking it off. Immediately he sensed her turn in
the shower, then heard her call out his name, tentatively, her voice
low and muffled by the falling water. In the dimness, illuminated only
by the faint light from the hallway creeping in around the door, he
advanced and pushed the shower curtain back. She said his name again,
but he said nothing as he stepped into the tub and took her torso in
his hands and kissed her, the warm water pounding his body and dripping
from their faces.

She responded as he knew she would, her hands on his back and running
through his hair. He ran both hands down her butt, the fingers of each
hand firmly between the cheeks, and pulled her up against his erection.
She gasped and he gyrated slightly to feel the wet coarse hairs of her
pussy scratch the base of his cock. For a long time they kissed like
this, silently, reveling in the new sensation of being naked together
and its power to hold them together so closely. She was yielding at
last, and his heart beat with a wildness he had experienced only once
before, when first her T-shirt had come off and he drunkenly touched
his lips to her nipples.

Now he kissed her tits like he had never done before, at his complete
leisure. She responded first by tugging his hair and digging her
fingernails into his back and ass, and then by bucking and thrusting
her pelvis against his cock. And she tried to push him away, but he
held her against the cold tiles and raised her arms above her head,
pinning her to the wall. He pushed his cock against her pussy and
kissed her brutally, sucking hard, on her neck, her chest, her tits.
Her cries - little, loud unaccompanied by any physical attempt to
resist him, and lacking in any emotion more assertive than utter
helplessness - enraged whatever it was inside of him that was driving
him. Her skin bruised easily -- she was always embarrassed by the
strings of hickies he managed to plant on her throat and neck -- but he
cared even less about that now. He slid down between her legs and
kissed them. Usually she protested his interest in her legs by drawing
them away, but now she made no move to prevent him from kissing and
caressing them. His hands wandered across them and ran almost
accidentally up to her pussy. A finger slipped into its firm slickness
and she gasped, grasping his head and pushing it against her groin.
With each long lick she gasped again as his tongue explored inside her,
between her labia and around the hard little knob of her clitoris. He
closed his mouth around these and sucked gently, reveling in her
energetic and pathetic vocalization, her uncontrolled bucking and her
exotic, intoxicating animal taste. When she came she fell forward and
slid to the floor of the tub in his arms, the water plashing about her
panting body. They sat like this for a while, until he reached over to
turn the water off. He helped her to her feet and she stepped
unsteadily out of the tub, and let him rub her dry with a towel. She
seemed a different person, quiet and dreamy, and completely
unselfconscious about her nakedness and his manipulation of it, as if
she had simply decided to put all the childish modesty aside and let
herself turn suddenly into the woman that had always clamored just
beneath the surface ever since she first met him. He pulled the towel
away and stood looking at her appraisingly, his cock still jutting from
his groin. She reached to touch it, and laughed an easy, deep laugh. He
led her, still naked, to her bedroom, and she curled up next to him and
fell asleep immediately, the cool night breeze from the open window
caressing their still damp bodies. It seemed like hours before his
erection finally subsided and he drifted off.

When he awoke he had a raging hard-on, and it was in her mouth. She was
sucking, hard and determined, and his cock was slick with precum and
spit. The rhythm was unfamiliar to him and totally out of his control.
He knew it would take ten seconds to come if he were to use his hand,
but despite her frenzied pace and her insistent, almost painfully
intense suction, it was taking much longer to get anywhere close. She
stopped a while and panted, and with wandering hands he felt the sweat
on her face and shoulders. Her silhouette in the moonlight was dreamy,
the feminine shoulders bent forward, her chest naked, the tits made
fuller by gravity as she lowered her head again. Her kisses traveled
briefly down his legs and their short, scratchy hair, and up again to
his scrotum. She took both his balls sharply into her mouth and pain
punctured him as her inexperienced mouth drew them in with a hard suck.
He cried out, struggling not to overreact, and she let up a little,
grabbing his cock with both hands. And then she was at it again, taking
as much of his cock into her tiny mouth as she could, this time slowly
sucking and moving up and down on it. His balls ached dully, not just
from what she had just done, but because of all the pent-up arousal
from which he had yet to be relieved. She did not speed up. He was in
an agony to come, but the pace was glacial. It could have been 15
minutes, or half an hour, or an hour; he had no idea. And then,
finally, when he felt he had to do something - push her off and take
his cock in his hands, or else thrust it deep into her - she gave his
cock five quick, hard sucks, completely suddenly, and he found himself
in a long, rocky, uncontrolled orgasm, his semen streaming into her
mouth, which had resumed its bovine pace. Her mouth filled and she
swallowed, and she sucked again and swallowed, until the last spasm
wracked his body and he lay totally still, exhausted. And she curled up
next to him and went to sleep, first giving him a long, tongue-y kiss
redolent of his cum, which he returned in a trance, still moaning
gently.

He awoke first. It was late morning, and the sun streaming through the
window warmed the room considerably. She was lying on her side, one arm
thrown above her head, uncovered. He studied her body: the somewhat
plain face, redeemed by the poutiness of her lips in sleep, and the
luxuriant black hair that cascaded all about; the long neck with its
necklace of red hickies, which also decorated her slender (but not
anorexic) torso, particularly the shoulders and breasts; the feminine
hips and ass (one very cute cheek of which was nearly half covered with
an enormous hickey, which he remembered giving her in the shower while
she bent slightly forward, leaning against the wall while the finger of
his right hand penetrated deep inside her pussy and a finger of his
left hand worked its way into her ass), a little paler than the smooth,
slightly tanned, perfectly proportioned legs. Drinking her body in, he
felt his penis stir and grow until, aided by a few deft strokes of his
hand, it stood at full attention. He spat on his fingers, pushed her
legs open, and rubbed her beneath the mound of coarse black pubic hair.
She stirred and awoke and kissed him back. He could feel her growing
wetter, which turned him on even more. He positioned his torso between
her legs and drew her legs up, hooking her knees over his shoulders.
His cock rubbed against her labia, hunting for a way in, until he felt
the smooth, warm moisture surround its head. She gripped him, a sudden
fear in her eyes, and said "No!" He should have expected as much;
they had agreed long ago that if they ever had sex, it would involve a
condom. But he was beyond caring, and her exclamation  -- the
femininity of it, the helplessness of it and the throatiness that
belied the meaning of the word - drove him mad with desire. He thrust
all the way inside her, the firmness of her pussy intensely satisfying,
and continued to pump with an ever-quickening pace. Once again her
cries were pathetic and somehow deeply satisfying. They infuriated him
and he pounded into her harder, the entire bed shaking, the headboard
banging against the wall. He could feel himself close to orgasm, but
thrust the sensation aside. He wanted more of her, all of her. Her
cries became louder. Her fists flailed his back and shoulders
ineffectually. Her legs crossed over his ass and the sensation of heat
and smoothness was marvelous, even when she dug her toenails into his
inner thighs. He saw tears spring in her eyes. He was hurting her, but
for some reason her pain did not awaken compassion, but the opposite.
She shook her head back and forth, a cornered animal, and finally sank
her teeth into his shoulder. The pain was sudden and intense and he
came, the sensation of euphoria and agony completely overwhelming him.
In his next conscious moment he raised himself on his elbow, his spent
cock still inside her, and saw the blood that had dripped from his
shoulder to his muscular chest was also smeared on her torso and face.
She was frightened, saying "oh my god oh my god." He burst out
laughing, breathless between his panting. "You are a fucking wild
animal," he said, and the metallic tang of his blood filled his mouth
as he kissed her lips to silence her worry.

Naked and smeared with his drying blood, she cleaned off the wound and
applied antiseptic and a bandage from the bathroom cabinet. She was
apologetic, and he teased her, calling her tiger. He went with her to
put the antiseptic away, and they stood staring in the bathroom mirror.
He had bled a lot, and both of their faces, necks and chests were
streaked with drying blood. With their unkempt hair they looked like
barbarians resting from battle. She turned herself around, looking at
herself in the mirror. He could feel his cock stirring again, faintly.
She leaned over the sink, dabbing at her face with a washcloth, and he
stroked her flank, and finally pushed her torso farther forward with
his other hand. His fingers found her pussy, still slick with their
cum. His cock surged, and surged again at the thought of fucking her
once more, with her tits pressed against the vanity counter. But first
he had to taste her, drink her in. He slid to his knees and kissed her
ass, her thighs, her knees. The taste between her legs seemed pure
animal to him, and he struggled to suck as much of her slippery pussy
onto his tongue as he could. It was not easy;  she was bucking into his
face. He detached himself momentarily and inserted a long finger deep
inside her pussy and withdrew it, and then with its ample slickness he
worked it into her ass. This slowed the bucking somewhat, although her
moaning seemed amplified, and he was able to bring her slowly to the
edge of coming. But he stopped before it was too late, and pulled her
down to the floor, making her straddle his face, facing his feet. She
had to lean forward to allow his lips and tongue access again, and by
now his cock was once again intensely hard. She took it in her mouth,
and again she sucked him at her unhurried pace. Parting her ass with
his fingers, he pulled her onto his mouth, the rough pubic hair
tickling his chin. In response her sucks on his cock became harder and
faster, and she pressed her pussy onto his mouth with gyrating urgency.
At last they came, nearly together, and their drained and exhausted
bodies lay intertwined and panting on the bathroom rug.

They showered together, his cock so spent that even when she knelt
before him and lathered his crotch with copious soap and much
unnecessary massaging, it would not grow. She watched him, wrapped in a
towel, as he shaved, and laughed as he nicked himself. He turned to
look at her. "Take the towel off," he said. She stood and let it
drop to her ankles. He reached for the shaving cream can and filled his
left hand with lather, without taking his eyes from her naked body. He
advanced towards her and kissed her, and then smeared the shaving cream
all over her pussy, being sure to slip his fingers inside her. And then
he knelt before her and shaved off the whole slippery mess of pubic
hair, which she accepted without protest and indeed with a good deal of
giggling at the sensation. When he was done he wiped the remnants of
shaving cream away with a damp towel and kissed her newly pink pussy
tenderly. By now she was luxuriantly slick all over again, and so he
kissed her pussy in his mouth again and made her come, still kneeling
before her, as she leaned backwards on the vanity counter.

They drank coffee in the sunlight, she dressed in his mostly unbuttoned
shirt and a pair of skimpy panties, he bare-chested in pajama bottoms.
The house was theirs for the weekend, huge and empty except for a
surprising number of fish tanks. He pulled her onto his lap and told
her, using a word they'd never used before to describe the
possibility of their having sex, that he wanted to fuck her in every
room. "You're so passionate," she responded, and gave him a
caffeinated kiss. "Rule number 1 for the weekend: no shirt wearing in
the house!" he said, and tugged his shirt from her torso. "You've
mutilated me," she said, touching the hickies. He snorted. "And my
shoulder?" But he ran his finger with hers over the reddish bruises
on her skin. When they reached her breast she sighed. "I wish they
were bigger. You'd like them more." They were small, but they were
also perfectly round, with a quality he could only describe as
"perkiness." He took them in both his hands and massaged around the
nipples, and said, "you'll just have to make up for them in other
ways."


3.

Dear Diary,

Everything changed this weekend. When we got to the house on Friday, we
fooled around in the hot tub for a bit. Of course he tried to pull my
bathing suit's shoulder straps off, but I didn't let him. The hot
tub is outside and who knows which neighbors were watching. Inside, he
told me we should take a shower together. Of course I told him no,
although part of me really wanted to try. But it happened anyway. The
next thing I know, he's in the shower with me, naked. There was
something about him, something different and unhesitant, as if he know
exactly how I'd respond. And I fell into his trap. I couldn't
resist. I felt like I was falling, standing there kissing him under the
shower. He kissed me all over, and I wanted him to devour me. I tried
to ignore his cock, but once my hand brushed against it accidentally
and I could feel how hard and big it was. The rest of the shower is a
daze, a big daze. We kissed forever, it seems like, our entire bodies
touching. I felt so peaceful somehow, basking in his intense desire for
me, and the water so warm and comforting. And I wanted him too, more
than ever, but it was a tranquil desire, a kind of "it's gonna be
all right" warmth. I let him do whatever he wanted. His hands and his
mouth were everywhere at once - on my body, inside my pussy, my ass,
my mouth, in my hair, between my legs - everywhere -  and I
couldn't get enough. A small voice way back told me it wasn't
right, but it was so easy to ignore. All I wanted was him. And when he
finally kissed me down there, it was like being on a different planet.
I had such an orgasm, like I've never been able to give myself
before. I came and came and came.

I remember the rest of the night a little better. I woke up very
thirsty, maybe around 3:00, and I was about to get up for some water.
But his body was so beautiful in the moonlight. I pulled the covers off
and looked at him lying there, naked and peaceful. I touched his penis
again, very gently, and was surprised by how fast it grew even though
he seemed to stay asleep. I kept massaging it slowly, and a little
clear fluid seeped from the tip. I tasted it, which reminded me how
thirsty I was. I can't remember ever having the urge to suck a man
off before, but there was something about the freedom of being naked
and alone together, about his gorgeous body being all mine, about the
warm night and the breeze from the window, and finally about needing to
quench my thirst somehow - well, I just bent down and took it into my
mouth and did what came naturally. When he woke up, he smiled this huge
smile, and it was great to hear him moan. I didn't really know what I
was doing, but finally he came, and it felt so, gosh, dirty and sexy
and totally hot to have it shoot into my mouth like that. I swallowed,
and now even more of him is inside me.

In the morning we started making out again, and before I knew it he was
inside me. I wanted it so much, but he had no protection on at all. I
was worried and asked him to stop, but he wouldn't, he just kept
thrusting until finally I bit him on the shoulder and then he came. My
first intercourse, and I made him bleed - and not just a little.
There was blood everywhere. But he was laughing at the end, and while I
was (and am) still worried about getting pregnant I couldn't resist
this deep feeling of warmth and attachment to him that seemed to make
everything all right.

We had more sex that morning, but the day ended with another strange
feeling. He had decreed no shirts to be worn in the house, so we both
went around all day topless, except when we went out to get some food.
Well, late in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. I threw on some clothes
and answered it; it was just the UPS guy with a package. After dinner,
we made out again, and we ripped off each others shorts. Just as I was
getting really hot for him again, he made me lie down across his lap,
my face down on the couch. He had total access to me down there, and he
felt my wetness for a while. Then he said I'd disobeyed his rule by
putting my shirt on to answer the door, and now he was going to punish
me. And then he slapped me, really hard, right on my ass. I started to
get up but he pushed me down again, and slapped me again, and again,
and again. By then I was crying, and I couldn't get up, and I felt so
humiliated, and my butt really stung. But when he stopped slapping and
stuck his fingers in my pussy again, I realized I was as wet as I've
ever been before, and that it wasn't just humiliation I was feeling.
He kept playing with me until I was desperate to come. When he took his
fingers out I felt like I was falling from a secure place off a steep
ledge, like I was losing something I deeply needed. I sat up, and there
was his cock, all hard and glistening, and I devoured it. After he came
I asked him if I was absolved of my sins, and he touched my chin with
his finger, and used his cum to anoint my forehead with a cross sign. I
felt his cum drying all over my face, and I thought about the deep-down
Catholic guilt I used to feel, and I thought, I'll die and go to hell
just to feel as alive as I do now for 5 more minutes.


4.

It's been 15 years since the night I spent in the house in Turlock
with my very first college girlfriend. I've seen her recently:
she's kept her figure remarkably well, better than everyone else I
still keep up with from that era, and although she was in a wedding
dress and not short red shorts, I suspect her legs are as bewitching as
ever. To this day, one of my only regrets in life is that I stood
outside the bathroom door that night, and then walked by, my sense of
decency getting the better of my intense desire. As we kissed before
bed, she thanked me for not bringing the box of condoms, and as I fell
asleep alone in a guest room, the single condom in the house burned a
hole through my wallet. Soon after that, our relationship ended, our
virginity still intact. Now, with so much more experience, I can't
help but spend wistful idle minutes rewriting that weekend in my mind.
And I wonder whether she would ever consent to taking one night, just a
one night vacation from her marriage to make up for our previous
collective inexperience, timidity, guilt and solicitude.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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