Message-ID: <2665eli$9708061614@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/2665.txt>
From: Barbed Wire <paull@istar.ca>
Subject: First Fuck/Worst Fuck Stories
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <33E8AE35.3AB0@istar.ca>


The following stories are taken from Barbed Wire webzine: 
Issue 4: The FIRST FUCK/WORST FUCK Issue
For more stories check out http://home.istar.ca/~paull/wire

In this document: 
1) Busboy in the Basement by Sian Young
2) Drunk Teen Beach Fuck by Chuck Blade


Busboy in the Basement
By Sian Young

It was a summer of hot, sticky nights. Nights when you go past sealed,
air conditioned houses and snarl. When you take a shower and go to bed
wet and naked, dripping on your pillow, with a fan lazily breathing on
you, oscillating up and down your body. When everyone breathes through
their mouth, slowly, as if they are blowing on a flame to make it go
out.
I was nineteen, confused, and horny. There was a lack in my life, and I
was at risk of blowing my cover of maturity. The thing was, I had never
had sex, done it, gone all the way. In high school, if you didn't want
to be a slut, you had to wait until you were with a boyfriend you loved:
minimum dating time before The Big Moment was six months. I had never
quite reached that threshold and thus arrived at university, where
everyone seemed to be boffing away, uninitiated still.
I sensed this was holding me back from becoming the adult I desperately
wanted to be. I had the developed chest, I had the dyed-blond hair, I
had the mature lifestyle of a student living off-campus in an apartment
which really didn't have roaches any more. I had the standard-issue
condoms, courtesy of my cautious late-80's university. I was out to
break the invisible barrier between me and Real Life along with whatever
was left of my hymen.
And it was the heady days of youth running free in a town that was not
their own. Summer jobs in offices, bars, restaurants, where you could
show up hung over or still drunk. We rode rickety bicycles along the
river, crowded on buses to annoy sober riders, discussed our adventures
in sordid detail in late night cafes. A balanced meal was falafel and
grape juice, and a cultural experience was scrawling with crayons on the
walls of a friend's about-to-be-renovated apartment. I remember that
summer in the relative cool of night, prowling around a city that slept
except for us.
I was having a great time. All I needed to do, as I saw things, was to
have fun, make enough money to pay tuition in September, and solve my
virginity problem. Not onerous tasks, but the latter continued to hang
over my head by the end of summer. But then I met a friend's busboy
co-worker, Rick.. After work a crowd would hang out together, drinking
Caesars and Harvey Wallbangers and tracking down all the after-hours
bars and late parties we could find. Rick was the only non-student in
the crowd, and I liked his flip wit, his attitude, his lithe body, his
cockiness.
Over a week or two of pack socializing, I found out some more about
him... he was poor, he had a girlfriend, he hated his job... I wasn't
really listening. I had decided he would do. He told me that he had
started having sex when he was fourteen and had already had over twenty
partners now at the ripe old age of nineteen. Great - if I wasn't going
to sleep with someone for late-adolescent love, it had to be someone who
knew what he was doing. I was looking for someone experienced,
unavailable and enthusiastic.

Somehow the situation advanced; one night we were at a party on a boat
which moved to someone's house. He and I wound up making out at the end
of the party, lying together on a scratchy couch. I remember whispering
that his friend "sleeping" on the floor nearby was still awake. He asked
his friend what the song playing on the radio was, and sure enough, the
friend, wide awake, told us what it was, and I bolted.
So, after whispered negotiations in the kitchen, he coaxed me into the
unfinished basement, where it was private and blissfully cool. We spread
out something to lie on - a piece of cardboard? a sleeping bag? - and
pulled off clothing. The crucial moment has been lost in the mists of
time and repetition, but I believe I was, well, a bit reluctant. Not
unwilling, just chicken-shit. Having decided that I wanted to do it, I
think I just wasn't sure what the hell to do. The details of his body,
the shock of being totally naked with someone else, of skin on skin
alone, all made me feel pretty inept.
Fortunately, I had lucked out in my choice of partner. There have been a
few men I have known who have shown an almost artistic appreciation of
the female body and the sensory overload of the erotic experience. This
happened to be one. It was about the Female Body, not about my body in
particular, but I didn't know the difference, nor did I care. I stopped
worrying about the spiders in the basement and about how exactly to do
it. I followed his lead and we got on with things, with none of the pain
or blood that years of reading female novelists had prepared me for.
One thing, though, was wholly unexpected (I hadn't yet read Erica Jong).
He slid down my body, past my belly, between my legs, and laid his mouth
on me. I sat up in astonishment - much to his annoyance, since it
probably gave him whiplash. It took me a while to get used to the
feeling. Whole sets of nerve endings found their purpose in life and
sprang into action. It was like finding out that I had another limb, or
had another sense, or lived on another planet... His commendable
attitude was, lie back down and get out of my way while I get you off.
I didn't know what to make of that. I had been focused on the context of
sex - being a virgin or a non-virgin, who you sleep with and who you
don't... It hadn't occurred to me to worry about whether I would
actually enjoy it, or whether I would have specific preferences or
desires. This guy took it as his duty to teach me how to appreciate sex
in the relatively pure, physical way he did. (It took a few years for
this lesson to sink in completely. After all, he did have a five year
head start on me.)
Of course, not much was different afterwards. After a few nights
together he rode off into the sunset, right on schedule. He did once
rather forlornly ask if I would be his mistress, but I said no and wrote
it off as a joke. My friend who worked with him quit his job and we all
went back to school. Finally being able to answer "yes" to the campus
doctor who asked "Are you sexually active?" every time I went to see her
for an allergy test or bronchitis, I proudly went on the pill. Took up
with, then dumped, a pathological liar. Went off the pill in favour of
safe sex. I had dealt with the First Time and I was in search of the
good times, which proved to be more rare than my first experience had
led me to believe...
Here's to you, Rick, ten years later, wherever and whoever you may be.
Thanks for the first, good time. Maybe my memories have romanticized
this story a bit, but hey - it's another hot summer night on the top
floor and all I can think of is how it must be cooler in the damp of the
basement.



Drunk Teen Beach Fuck
By Chuck Blade

We met at camp. Ipperwash Army Cadet Camp. She was from Kapuskasing, a
northern mining town, somewhere in the Clay Belt. Looking at her photo
now I guess she was part native. It was my second day there and I saw
her at the mess. She was tiny, barely five feet on her toes, and had
tailored her standard-issue bush fatigues into a fit far too provocative
for any man's army. Even the Sergeant Major was seen admiring the
strategically placed darts on her uniform during the morning marchpast.
I was determined to get laid that summer and after the long meaningful
look we gave each other that day decided it would be her.
Her name was Sandi and she was a seventeen-year-old shit disturber who
liked to drink and party. She was a returning callout and likely to make
sergeant. Only problem was she had a psycho ex-boyfriend who had been in
and out of prison and would kick the shit out of anybody who laid a hand
on her. The story went he was Returned To Unit last summer after flying
into a jealous rage over her and nearly killing someone. This summer he
was persona non grata at camp. So the next day during CPR lessons I
asked her to be my partner. We necked all the way through the
mouth-to-mouth drills and in a fit of passion I bit a piece of her lip
off. She screamed and bled into my mouth. Later that day I saw her with
her bandages and I apologised. She smiled coyly and called me animal. I
was in love.
We met every night our first week there. The first night by the jumping
tower she denied my advances saying we only just met, it was all too
fast, that we should take our time. The second night in one of the
lecture tents we drank and played cards with some new buddies until our
indiscreet fondling and kissing broke the party up. It was then that she
laid down the rules: I'll do what I want, when I want, and with who I
want. That was fine as long as she would fuck me now. We went at each
other like a couple of wrestlers. She pushed me back against the centre
pole and undid my belt. I threw her onto a table, tore open her shirt,
yanked down her bra, and realised I had to take a piss. I stepped out of
the tent to relieve myself and when I returned she had dressed herself
and said she wasn't in the mood anymore. The rules. The little
ballbuster.
The next day after classes a bunch of us headed for the beach. Sandi had
been drinking all day from a can of Orange Crush that she topped up with
vodka every time our instructors barked at ease. Someone took a polaroid
of us that day that she signed: I will never forget you, love Sandi. We
didn't bother with dinner. Eight of us made our way to the beach,
drinking gin straight from the bottle, singing stupid army songs, making
a typical drunken teenage scene all the way there. When the sun went
down we swam naked in the bay. That was when she started acting crazy,
saying the lake was calling her, walking out into the water like some
zombie until she was swallowed up by the bay. I had to fight her kicking
and screaming all the way back to the shore. She was fucked up beyond
repair. Needless to say she didn't remember a thing but I did. She puked
all the way back to the barracks.
We were off the next day so I hung around the barracks not doing much of
anything, but trying to look busy while I did it so that I wouldn't look
like I had nothing to do, when I heard the news. Someone had come back
from Grand Bend and said he saw Sandi's ex-boyfriend in town. Apparently
he had driven down from Kapukasing and was staying at the trailer park
that bordered the military and the civilian beaches. When I saw her for
the first time that day she was talking to some tough-looking older guy
and we completely ignored each other. I went and got high and played
some pinball at the rec centre. When she didn't show up for dinner I
knew she'd gone with him.
I went to the annex bought some cola and retired to my bunk. After a few
rum and colas I had decided I didn't need to be played for a sucker,
shit, there was plenty of pussy to be had that summer. Fuck her drunk
ass. Next thing I know one of my friends burst in telling me to get the
hell outta here cause he was headed this way, drunk, screaming bloody
murder, looking to crack my skull. I grabbed my bottle and headed down
to the dunes muttering to myself, 'the little bitch told him
everything.' I found a beach party and joined it finally passing out
from the rum. When I got back to base my bed had been completely
dismantled, my locker knocked down, and my boots pissed in.
All this and we hadn't even fucked yet. The next day she was
unapologetic. My unit was shipping out for manoeuvres so maybe I'd see
her in a week or something. I wasn't even sure what I was talking about
anymore. I just had to get away from her. It was in the bush I got word
she was gangbanging killer and a couple of his buddies down at the
trailer park.
Back at base I stayed clear of her. Ignored her entirely. Pretending
like it meant nothing to me. Swallowing down my anger and
disappointment, plotting my revenge on them, concocting the least
expected, dispassionate yet most humiliating deed my naive sixteen year
old brain could imagine
I didn't get my chance with him but the police took care of it for me,
arresting him for drunk and disorderly, disturbing the peace, resisting
arrest, and breaking probation. They shipped his ass back to
Kapuskasing.
On the eve of my sixteenth birthday I was partying at the rec centre
when she came in, saw me, and for the first time since the incident with
her ex, came over to talk to me. She told me she knew it was my birthday
and that she wanted to give me what I had always wanted: her pretty
pussy was mine for the taking. I was to meet her down in the dunes, at
our regular party spot, at midnight. Now was my chance.
I found her there. Her small naked body swaying drunkly in the sand,
reflecting a pale light from the moon against the inky blackness of the
bay. Lust was subverting my plan. She kneeled down, took my cock into
her mouth and drained the last bit of anger out of me. She lay down on
her sleeping bag spreading her legs. Take me lover.
It was over in about three strokes. I had lost my virginity to a drunken
teenager on the beach at summer camp. Sweet sixteen. She had passed out
from all the booze and excitement. I stood up to take a piss and as I
looked down at her a sense of disgust raced through me. I left her there
and walked back to camp. I never did get my revenge on Sandi but years
later, at an Ipperwash reunion, I heard she got in a serious car
accident driving drunk one night so that now she walked with a permanent
limp and had other chronic health problems.


The preceeding stories are taken from Barbed Wire webzine: 
Issue 4: The FIRST FUCK/WORST FUCK Issue
For more stories check out http://home.istar.ca/~paull/wire

-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/>    .../assm/faq.html> /