My First Time Going All The Way (fm:first time, 7976 words) | |||
Author: Beatrice ![]() | |||
Added: Jun 27 2025 | Views / Reads: 688 / 531 [77%] | Story vote: 9.82 (11 votes) | |
My second story here, about my first time going all the way with a man. | |||
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It had only been a few days since that night, but it felt like a lifetime. The blur of terrifying, exhilarating moments was still so vivid, it made my palms sweat just thinking about it. Rushing across the lawn to Hudson's house, my heart a frantic bird in my chest, after realizing I'd sent that picture - the nude one, meant only for my own eyes, my intensely private proof of fitness progress - to my dad's best friend. Hudson. The man who had been my kind, steady fitness mentor, the one who'd only ever seen me as "the good girl" my parents raised.The memory of our confrontation at his door, his calm, steady voice cutting through my hysteria, still sent shivers down my spine. And then, his compliments. His subtle, yet deeply visceral, praise for my body. Words I'd never heard from anyone, certainly not in such a direct, unashamed way. He hadn't coerced me, not truly. He'd simply offered a choice, a way to ensure my mortifying secret was absolutely, undeniably safe. A "connection," he'd called it. A bond forged in intimacy that would make the thought of betrayal unthinkable. My virgin mind, so desperate to protect my carefully constructed world, so naive in the face of such potent suggestion, had capitulated. A forbidden part of me, a deep, hidden part that had always fantasized about an older, experienced man being my first, had even been intrigued, finding a strange safety in his maturity.
Then came the moment. The sight of him unzipping his jeans, of his enormous, thick cock springing out, still sent a jolt of raw heat through me. It had been overwhelming, even frightening, but then that strange, powerful curiosity had completely taken over. The feel of him in my hand, the taste of him in my mouth, the raw, explicit praise he'd showered on me - on my "magnificent tits," my "work of art ass," his crude teasing about my "naughty" behavior for my dad's friend - it had all culminated in my own shattering, explosive orgasm. I remembered my my hand instinctively dropping between my thighs, rubbing my aching mound fiercely through the thin cotton of my briefs, while my other hand reachied up to twist and tug at my painfully hard nipple, desperately amplifying the pleasure as I sucked him harder and harder. And then, his hot cum, thick and forceful, splattering over my chin and breasts, coating my hard nipples.
He'd called me beautiful, covered in his seed, and promised that next time, it would go inside me, "where it belonged." The thought was both utterly scandalous and unbelievably thrilling, a forbidden promise that echoed in my mind. Then, the abrupt, almost jarring return to reality: his wife, due home soon. The hurried dressing, the forced composure as I buttoned my blouse over the sticky aftermath, the silent walk back across the lawn to my own house, a perfectly prim and proper girl to the outside world, with his sticky cum drying on my breasts beneath my blouse, a secret searing into my skin.
It had only been a few days since that night, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. The mix of emotions swirling inside me was a constant, dizzying current, pushing me and pulling me in opposing directions. There was a potent, undeniable pride that settled deep in my bones. Pride that I had been able to do it, to overcome my inhibitions, to experience such raw pleasure. Pride that I had been desired so intensely by a man like Hudson, a man of such quiet power and confidence, who had looked at my body, my body, and called it beautiful. I had always known, intellectually, that men liked big boobs. Magazines, movies, they all made that clear. But I'd always felt like my big boobs just made me look pudgy, disproportionate. No boy my age had ever shown an ounce of interest, certainly not for my chest. But Hudson... he didn't just like them. He revered them. He'd called them "magnificent," "perfect," "begging to be worshipped." His words, and the way his cum had glistened on them, changed everything. For the very first time, I felt genuinely proud of my large breasts, a newfound confidence blossoming within me. I was no longer the timid, unnoticed girl.
But beneath that nascent pride, a tremor of pervasive guilt persisted. Hudson was married. He was my father's best friend. Every fiber of my conservative upbringing screamed that what I had done was wrong, shameful, a profound betrayal of trust. The fear, too, was a cold, suffocating knot in my stomach that tightened whenever my parents were near. What if his wife had come home earlier? What if my parents ever, ever found out that I'd given my dad's old buddy a blow job, that I was no longer the innocent daughter they believed me to be? The thought was
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Thanks for the woodie... well written story, gave me the feels. Took me back to a few incidents in my younger days...
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