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Modern Relations (part 03): Alexandra Does All The First Time

Alexandra's first time is a doozy.
Alexandra and Kevin lay sprawled over each other, arms draped over legs, breathing in deeply, post coitus. The sheets were slightly moist from their shower and hasty towel off. Kevin lay facing up with his head at the foot of the bed while Alex lay face down to the right with one leg over his midsection. Kevin considered Alex’s extended leg as it lay next to his face. He found the sculpted calf, fine boned ankle and high arched irresistibly sexy. Until minutes ago she’d been walking around in heels, showing off her strong limbs and bubble butt. And those dimples.

“Nice stems, honey,” he said.

“Mmm. Thanks. Is that your cock I feel lifting my thigh?”

Kevin’s cock tightened with desire under Alex’s other leg. Her left foot lay on his chest. Alex swished it back and forth through his chest hair languidly. He stroked her butt in time with her foot.

“Maybe.”

“How can you be getting hard again? My poor pussy is sore.”

“How about your jaw?”

“Well, no, my mouth barely did any work, you just fucked my throat. Besides my jaw is used to it.”

“Used, anyway,” he mused. “Can I ask you about that?”

“Sure? Open book over here.” She stroked his chest reassuringly with her foot. He hoped she’d be open to talking about her past.

“When did you learn to be so... articulate ?”

“Oh, nice one,” she said sarcastically. “I told you... first boyfriend.”

“Did he love your mouth as much as I do?”

“Hey,” she said sternly, “is there any part of me you don’t like?”

“Your mother?” Wow, what the hell was he thinking bringing up the mother.

“What? Mom’s a sweetie. Also, and this is really lucky for you, we’re not conjoined.”

“Agreed. And you’re perfect. As for your mother... when you’re not looking I catch her giving me that librarian look. Like she just caught me highlighting a Gutenberg.”

Alex laughed. “Next time she gives you that look, I want to you remember what you did to me today.”

“Oh, god... that is cruel.” Kevin honestly quailed at the thought of meeting her again after today.

“Relax. You know... Mom’s is just protective. In some ways.”

“Did she give.. that guy, your first, ‘that look’?”

“Who, Clayton? No, he walked on water in her eyes. Probably still does. She’s never been judgmental and.. uh , the seed didn’t fall far from the tree.” She concluded, “she’s giving you that look for some other reason.”

“Really, what makes you say that?”

Her mother was like her? Cynthia, Alex’s mother, looked like her daughter might in two decades if she really took care of herself. The differences were minimal even now. Cynthia had crows feet, darker eyes and larger breasts but otherwise looked more like an older sister than a mother. Kevin had to admit she was a MILF. Not that he would. He couldn’t imagine the conservative career surgeon behaving like her daughter had today. Alex had to mean something different.

“Well she’s probably worried you’ll hurt me.”

“No, no, I mean about the seed and the tree.”

“Oh... Mom kind of eats men like snacks. She did it off and on during my pre-teens before she settled down with... this guy. And I know she ate Clayton... uh , after I went off to college.”

“Ooooo the plot thickens. You need to spill the beans.”

“What happened with Clayton is complicated,” she was hesitant to say everything. “After she found out about everything, Mom associated him with fixing things. He really was a big help as a friend and then as a lover,” she said.

“Get to the eating him part.”

Kevin pushed Alex’s leg down his body and used it as leverage to sit up. Alex whined a complaint. He’d never heard about her past in detail. Kevin assumed her reticence was like his, part politeness and part fear. But he wanted to be intimate with her. He needed a way to get her to open up about anything. Also, he wanted the skinny on her mother’s scandalous behavior. Maybe it would take the stink and out her stink eye.

“How about telling me the story, you can leave the icky bits out.”

“Look, I’d need to put the story in context to really talk about... everything ... anything . It's not all puppies and roses,” she said.

“I want to know, good and bad. But I don’t have some creepy need to know the darker stuff.”

“That’s... considerate .”

“No, it’s informed,” Kevin explained seriously. ”I had a girlfriend in college who was “got into trouble”, I think they called it. She reported it to campus authorities. She got asked about the event by three or four admins and then, eventually, had to deal with the police. Nothing happened, either. I learned it’s better to be there for her than know what happened.”

--

“Wow.” Alex wiggled her ass at him suggestively. “But, are you sure you can take the good parts?” Alex wondered if she could take telling them. Oh sure, she’d put the bad stuff in her past behind her and she’d come to understand her own proclivities in college. But she was still squeamish about showing Kevin just how big a slut she really was. And there were worse things than being a slut. Could she tell him? Would he reject her? Was he the one to tell it all too?

“You need to know...” she hesitated.

“Relax. Tell me what you’re afraid of,” he said. “Please trust me, I won’t let you down.”

“Do you know when I say ‘slut’ it makes me hot?” Might as well start with the easy stuff.

“Hhmm . . mmm,” he said shaking his head slightly as he stroked her ass.

She pushed forward with it, “It makes me hot because it's true. It’s hot because it’s my secret revealed.”

Alex’s felt a flush down her spine and into her womb. She exhaled and relaxed into the mattress.

Suddenly Kevin’s hand moved off her ass to cover her pussy. With her right leg extended and her left bent and propped up across Kevin’s thighs, she was completely exposed to his attentions. She gushed some more at the thought.

“Wow, you’re ready after all,” he said. Gently he pressed the thumb into her and firmly pressed her labia and clit between his fingers. Alex groaned with pleasure, suddenly at a loss for words.

“I was shocked the first time I heard ‘slut’ used pejoratively,” he said. “It never occurred to me that sluts were a bad thing. I mean, who doesn’t like a girl who likes and has sex? Hell the key to world peace is probably ‘more sluts .’ Most suicide bombers are virgins. If they got laid maybe seventy virgins would seem like the bad deal it is.”

Alex laughed softly. Kevin’s manipulations were teasingly light. She humped into his hand trying to get more friction. He continued, “The simple fact is, people are either jealous or possessive. Either way they’re threatened by a woman who likes sex and acts on that desire.”

Kevin moved his hands with her humping so she remained frustrated. “Uh uh,” he teased, “ not yet.”

“I get hot when you call yourself a slut too. Hotter than when I call you one. Know why?”

“Hmm, mmm,” she said.

“Because it’s exactly what I want. I’m with a beautiful woman who loves sex and she’s choosing to have it with me. It’s affirming. It strokes my ego, to be honest.”

Emotion welled up within Alex. “I.. I don’t know what to say.”

“I do. Tell me your story,” he said. She felt him withdraw and then lay down beside her, his right leg lazily sprawled over her ass. “And don’t leave out the bits about your mother being a cock hound, either.”

“Oh my God. Don’t talk about my slutty mother like that,” Alex sputtered in mock anger.

Alex toyed with the idea of telling him everything, even about her mother. For now, she settled her own story.

Alex’s Story

Where to start. I think probably with my childhood. Mom got knocked up just before her sophomore year in college. I never knew who my dad was. Until I was sixteen all my mother would ever say was, “he has great genes.” It is important to know she wanted to get knocked up and had no intention of either having more kids or quitting school or settling down. She made that clear from the beginning. I was not an accident.

Anyway, she enrolled pre-med in college, determined to be a surgeon. She missed the spring semester of her sophomore year to have me and then left me with Grammy and Gramps in the fall.

I saw her on summer breaks. Our family has money so she didn’t need to work summer jobs for school. Summers and breaks were packed with fun. Mom made sure she got the most of her time with me. Essentially, I had three parents. And it was my Mom, not my grandparents who spoiled me.

My grandparents never, not once, had anything negative to say about Mom getting knocked up or putting education and career first. More significantly, they clearly showed pride in both of us. One of my earliest memories is of the three of us watching Mom graduate medical school.

Basically, my early childhood was unconventional but idyllic.

When I was eight Mom switched residency programs to San Francisco. She moved and took me with her. Mom got an apartment, found a nanny, and went to work. Her hours were crazy but when she wasn’t on rounds or in surgery she was with me. I went to visit Grammy and Gramps for summer breaks.

From then until I was thirteen mom stayed single. I came to understand she had a stable of guys but none were serious and I never really met any of them. She was focused on me and her career and I think guys were recreational stress relief . I didn’t think about it much at the time. But I do think I imprinted to that mindset.

That all changed when I came back from break one summer. She had a regular guy, Phil. Fucking Phil, I liked to call him. We loathed each other. Eventually he moved in. Mom, remaining unconventional, didn’t marry him, but his presence effectively ended my blissful childhood.

One good side effect... I decided to accelerate my high school education and get out fast. The added load at school decreased my social activities so I missed some of the milestones of early teendom including rebellion, dating and … ah, aesthetics.

Anyway, things got worse the day I got back from summer break with Grammy and Gramps. I was sixteen by then and about to start senior year. Mom was working nights again. Fucking Phil had been laid off. For the remainder of the summer I couldn’t escape him at all. Phil and Mom fought openly. I got the impression his lack of job was affecting his ‘job performance’ and both of them were grumpy about it. Tension in the house was palpable when both of them were home.

Eventually, Phil began looking at me like a wolf looks at bacon.

I couldn’t get away from his leering gaze. So I stopped grooming. Hairy pits and legs, full bush, no deodorant, no shampoo, baby fat, braces and BO. I looked and smelled horrible. I nearly stopped eating, too. Finally, I padlocked my door.

Mom noticed that change more than she noticed Phil being creepy. But she seemed diminished by her their war, as if she didn’t have the strength to be curious about why I’d gone crunchy. It hurt me deeply.

Previous years at school, I’d been the friendly-happy-semi-popular-cute-nerdy girl no one could pin a convenient label on. They pinned one on me the first day back that year: freak. I earned instant pariah status. But I was also on course to be Valedictorian.

In mid-September, just after getting my braces removed, the principal assigned me to tutor a jock back from the brink of ineligibility. That’s how I met Clayton. He was a ringer they brought in on my Junior year. He played three different sports. Clayton was a tall wall of muscle and regally handsome. I mean, a young Denzel Washington, handsome. Even at sixteen he looked at everyone calmly, as if they were his subjects. He shook my hand, politely, eloquently introducing himself. My first thought was, “what does this guy need a tutor for?” My second was, “how am I going to get him naked?”

For the first time in my life, I felt flustered at the sight of a man. I definitely wanted him. But he was way the fuck out of my league. Especially now.

Usually, they assign multiple tutors. But I was Clayton’s only tutor. I think the principal was hoping to lower my GPA with the extra load, lowering my grades in hopes to avoid seeing a freak on the podium at graduation.

We’d have study sessions at my place two nights a week, after practice, and Sunday afternoons. Phil and Clayton hated each other instantly. I could tell Phil was intimidated. Suddenly, I was able to keep Phil at bay three days a week. It made me like Clayton, not just tolerate and lust after him.

Clayton caught my mother’s eye and he expended effort to charm her, which sent Phil into a tailspin. Clayton didn’t say an impolite word to Phil but treated him coolly. Phil let out his inner bigot, but only when I was home alone with him. I hated him.

It took me two or three sessions to discover Clayton was at least as smart as me, if not more.

“Boy, Clayton, Ms Anderson is a stupid bitch,” I blurted out.

Clayton laughed. “What?”

“She hasn’t noticed you sandbagging. These last two trig tests. You got partial credit on every problem for a 70% total.”

“Yeah, I’m not that good at math.”

“No. If you’re bad at math you get 30% completely wrong. How did you get partial credit to so closely match the minimum average you need to pass?”

He gave me an appraising look. I said, “Don’t bullshit me.”

“On the first test I calibrated how much each step in a problem counted toward the total by getting some parts correct and some wrong. I then resolved to get 70% credit , on average per problem, for the remaining tests,” he smiled at me winningly. “Ms Anderson may be a dumb bitch, but she grades consistently. If a problem has four steps each is worth a quarter.”

“‘Calibrated’, so you are faking dumb in English too?”

“Below average is not dumb,” he corrected. “I sleep through English, History and Econ, but I record everything on this,” he pulled a small digital recorder from his bag, “so I know the assignments and stuff. I play it back while I’m running laps,” he gave me a sheepish look.

“I’m super good at math. I completed Trig and high school algebra by sixth grade. Then, I started getting taller, shooting up and out.” He flexed an arm comically. “So everyone wanted me to play ball. I was good at that too. So...” he shrugged.

“So why sandbag?”

“You tell me. Why are you sandbagging?” he countered.

“What?”

“I’ve seen your mom. She is a fine woman. I’ve seen recent photos of you around the house. You were happy and just as fine if not more so, even with the braces. But I’ve never seen you smile. And you look and smell like a vagrant.” He had been looking at my pictures? I was flattered but... I smelled that bad?!

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I said stubbornly. “Vagrant,” I muttered.

“Does it have something to do with Phil?” he said neutrally.

The shock must have shown on my face. He nodded to himself and I could see he was getting angry. Clayton rose to leave. I figured something bad was about to happen to Phil. I snatched at Clayton’s hand, preventing him from leaving. It was our first touch. I would like to say sparks flew. But, nothing. I just stopped him.

“It’s not what you think,” I said. And then I told him. It was difficult to do. Especially to a guy I liked. But somehow, saying it out loud to someone safe lifted a load for me. Instead of freaking out, or crying, I progressively calmed.

“I do it out of necessity,” he said, referring to sandbagging. “Back home it’s not cool to stick out, be smart. And being very smart? Deadly.”

“What, you mean? Like in the hood?”

“What? No I’m from the central valley.” I turned beet red.

“It’s just not cool to be smart in my old school. So I’ve always hidden how smart I am. When I got transferred here, I kind of fell into the routine and into expectations. I made solid Bs in my old high school but this is a private school and they expect me to struggle for a while at least.” Pointing at me, he added, “hence the tutor.”

“So stop sandbagging and make the grades.”

“I will if you do,” he said.

“Phil,” I said.

“I’ll take care of Phil.” That was ominous.

The fact was, if he stopped leering I’d gladly shower.

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing bad, just smart. Trust me.”

“Okay, but you have to take care of Phil first. I’m trusting you,” I decided.

“No, I need you to clean up now for my plan to work, I think. Can you do it?”

I looked around the room. Piles of laundry were everywhere. “I got a lot of clothes to wash.”

“And hair and teeth and body too, pee- eww !” he said holding his nose above a charming smile.

“And I want to keep you as my tutor. You’ll get credit for my new scores.”

“Okay, but A’s not solid B’s .”

--

Like escaping a cocoon, I removed layers of grime and tangled hair. Unable to work out the tangles, I sheared off my long black hair. Poor eating eliminated my baby fat. But unexpectedly I’d grown and inch and my breasts grew a size (still only Bs ).

I amazed my schoolmates. I looked so good most people thought the chopped hair job was a style. Some people thought I was a new to school .

Mom looked relieved to see, “the real me return.” Phil leered at me more, but somehow I had armor. Amazingly, Clayton’s attitude toward me didn’t change at all. He just whistled the first time he saw the new-old me and then we studied in silence and on separate subjects.

A week later we had Phil cornered. Clayton’s plan was simple. Every day after study, he would corner Phil and chat him up like he was trying to be friends. Everything was recorded, too. Clayton started slow, talking about sports or about how hot I was all of a sudden. Then he asked why Phil thought I might have gone to seed. And why I was suddenly looking hot again. Eventually, Phil confessed to Clayton what he’d like to do with me. Phil was not a smart man.

Clayton and I planned the next steps together. I wanted to play it for Mom first, but Clayton advised we chase Phil off first. I submitted, trusting all would go well and we’d permanently deal with Phil. I worried a little about how mom would react if the plan succeeded and Phil left.

Clayton cornered Phil on a Tuesday night just after Mom departed for a workout. We knew she would be gone for hours. Clayton played the recording for Phil and for me. I felt sick but I pulled a poker face and sat through it. Damned if I’d ever let Phil see me cower again.

Phil’s face flushed with red rage as he listened to himself confess. He came at Clayton, grabbing pathetically at the recorder. Clayton pinned the smaller man to the wall with one hand, like he was pushing open a door. Phil deflated like a whoopie cushion. As the recording continued he looked over at me. His face paled and he looked away again. I don’t know what I looked like but it scared him more than Clayton did. Or maybe he finally realized the gravity of his mistake.

I laughed, a shrill cackle. “Pack your bags,” I said. “Or Mom hears that recording and you lose your balls, assuming you have any,” I laughed. I really didn’t give a shit what Mom said about it. I lived here too. “Leave a note for Mom, tell her anything but the truth. And then go. Never come back. Never talk to Mom or me again.”

Clayton added, “I got three more copies of this so...” Phil’s eyes bugged. He began to say something. I jumped at him, clapping my hand over his slimy mouth.

“Not another word from you. Not ever,” I said between gritted teeth. “You have one hour to pack what you can. And ten minutes to write the note. Then you’re gone. Forget about everything else, I’ll burn it before the weekend.”

With that Clayton and I retreated to my room and closed the door. He held me while I cried softly into his broad, incredibly hard chest. He was great, like a brother taking care of his sister. Eventually, Phil abandoned ship and we were alone. A great weight lifted off me with his passing.

I decided I didn’t want a Clayton to be like a brother. Looking him in the eye I undressed completely and walked into my bathroom for a shower. I stood in front of the steaming shower for ten minutes waiting for him. Finally Clayton poked his head through the open door.

“I think your mom is home. I’ll see you in school tomorrow or here Thursday night. You were amazing.” Clayton closed the door. I stepped into the downpour, suddenly crying in big uncontrolled sobs.

--

Mom found the note when she got home. It said he had another, younger, girl and was going to live with her. He couldn’t help but jab her one last time. But Mom was ecstatic.

“Oh christ , what a relief,” she said. “He’s been such a shit lately. I’d been trying to get him out of here but he wouldn’t leave without a job.”

“He was always a shit to me, Mom,” I said.

For the first time in a year, Mom and I really talked. I eventually broke down and told her in detail what a creep he was. Then I played the recording and let her hear it in Phil’s voice confessing his lecherous desires for me. She threw up immediately. She didn’t even try to make it to a sink. I’d never seen that before. To her eternal credit she apologized for being so oblivious. Then we cleaned up together.

She wanted to press charges, but I talked her down. I asked her to see it from my side. Finally she insisted I see a therapist. I agreed. She found one, a friend of a friend, that very hour. I had an appointment late Friday afternoons.

I also joined a Judo class after school.

--

I was apprehensive before the following Thursday study session. Why did Clayton reject me, I wondered? Was he not interested? He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek as I let him in the house. Then he sat me down on the couch and we talked for about two hours. My fears were unfounded. Clayton, quite simply, was a decent human being.

I imagined him ripping off my clothes and taking me on the couch most of the time we were talking. But he made sure I was OK and unhurt and yada, yada, yada.

“Enough,” I said after too long. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“No,” I said instantly, surprising us both. “But I want you.”

So, we fucked. Wow, those muscles felt amazing. We fucked on the couch, on and under the dining room table and in the kitchen. And that was just the first round.

Eventually I found myself naked on my bed, lying next to Clayton with a used condom discarded on the floor.

“That is a big box of condoms you have in that backpack,” I said. Some were missing, presumably used on other girls. “You planning to use them all up tonight?”

“No. They’re not just for you,” he said with a gauging look.

“Is that so? Am I supposed to be impressed or jealous?”

“Most girls pick jealous. But you are like no one I’ve met so I’d guess neither.”

“Heh,” I said. I pretended to think about it for a minute. “I’m glad, is what I am. I have plans and I don’t want complications. I’m curious though. How do most girls act?”

“Well for starters, when I meet them they try to get into my pants right away. I know it sounds like bravado but its damn near a statistical certainty. Well, except for you. I think that’s why you got assigned to me exclusively. For tutoring I mean.”

“Ha, I wanted to jump you but I...”

“...smelled and looked like old cheese.”

“Ahem, back to the other girls...”

“The white ones, a few of them, get off on fucking a black dude or they say something obnoxious like, ‘Oh, look at the contrast’,” he said it in falsetto. “Makes me feel like an accessory.”

“That’s funny,” I said.

Clayton continued, “Most of them lay there like noodles. Some of them are good at it and some show potential. Almost all of them let me do whatever I want. I don’t really know why that is.”

“Don’t be coy, you know exactly why.” He smiled sheepishly at that. “What do you get by with?” I asked.

“I like cumming on their faces,” he said, waiting for a reaction. When I gave none he continued, “You can tell when a girl doesn’t like it but damn if they all won’t act like they love it. And it gets me off more if they don’t like it. Most girls will let you fuck’em in the ass if they are either drunk enough or or horny enough. And of course there's all the blow jobs.”

I’d been masturbating for a while but I never did it to porn or an inner fantasy. It was always just pure feeling. I’d explored the internet and seen some porn so I wasn’t fresh off the farm. Cum on my face seemed novel and a bit dirty. I creamed at the thought. I’d barely thought about oral sex at all. And not at all about anal. It sounded painful. Put together it was like a trip to the far east, it was a place I could picture but I was apprehensive about going. I was determined to book an immediate flight, figuratively. Clayton could fly me, he deserved too.

“How many girls.”

“A couple of regular ones and a one random one every week or so.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of girls.”

“Big box of condoms, remember?”

“Which kind am I?”

“The regular for sure.” I hugged his muscled chest, my pussy flushing.

“I’m new at this. I think I need a tutor.”

“You ever give a blow job?” I shook my head, no. “Okay, put your mouth over my cock and don’t bite.”

His cock was hard from talking about all this. I got up on top of him and bent over, mouth near the head of his cock. “Tell me what to do... and cumming on my face sounds hot.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s see how good you are first.”

He instructed me. I sucked. And I bit . I really was bad at it. My teeth scraped his head for a good 15 minutes before I learned to mouth it properly. Putting him deeper in, I scraped the shaft with my uppers. I sucked too hard, he said, apparently that’s painful for men too. Using the tongue to lick the entire shaft was a watershed moment. Progressively, Clayton sweetly guided me to some level of competence. I guess he had good reason to be sweet.

No cock had ever entered my mouth and I couldn’t believe I’d waited this long to put one there. Amazing feelings washed through me as I become more comfortable and skilled. A power rush coursed through me after seeing the affect I had on Clayton. I was sexy and in control. The feel of the shaft in my mouth warmed my pussy, especially when I moved my tongue under the shaft. But after half an hour sore muscles got the better of me.

When I complained about that, Clayton pushed me off, pulled me down onto the bed and much to my shock went down on me. Anticipation thrilled through me, I was ready to experience something other than my fingers or a showerhead , or corner of a pillow, or a brush handle, or.. you get the idea. Clayton however, backed off.

“Alex,” he said. “You need a shave. I mean, I need you to shave.”

I giggled. “Do all your girls do that?” I’d seen girls with their pubes shaved in the locker room and in porn . It looked... naked.

“They do if they want me to go down on them.”

“Well, that settles it,” I said.

He shaved me.

--

We walked into my bathroom. He trimmed me with the scissors I’d used to hack my hair off. Then he told me to lay on the floor, grab my ankles, and spread my legs, effectively bending in half and exposing myself utterly to him. I flushed with excitement, waiting for his next move.

Clayton slathered on some moisturizer, carefully spreading it from below my belly button, around my pussy and asshole and up almost to my lower back, taking his time with my clit, labia and my asshole. He had done this before and I appreciated his expertise. I was getting wetter by the minute.

Finally, Clayton grabbed a warm washcloth and new disposable razor from the sink. Slowly, gently he raised the hair from me. He was careful to move the labia slowly away from the blades as he shaved down between pussy and thigh. There wasn’t much hair past that but he took time doing a thorough job. When complete, he blotted my labia with the cloth, removing the moisturizer.

I still held my legs apart, knees almost in my armpits with eyes closed. I reveled in the sensual feelings.

“Stay there,” he said and walked out of the room. Moments later, he came back in with a hand mirror from my dresser and placed it so I could see the whole area.

“Open your eyes and look.” It was breathtaking. He’d saved everything off. A completely bald pussy filled the mirror. I hadn’t seen my pussy clearly since I started growing hair and it looked different than I remembered. Two long smooth folds of skin peeked out of the gap between my thighs, leading up to the delicate looking hood of my clit. My small pink asshole looked shy.

“You are beautiful, Alex,” he said. And I felt beautiful.

Clayton put the flat of his tongue gently on the length of my labia and then licked up through the clit. I gasped and he responded, putting two fingers in me. Soaking wet again, I welcomed them in without complaint. He stroked and licked for a while. After a time, there was a pressure against my ass. He’d put moisturizer on his fingers. Soon after I felt the amazing feeling of having both holes filled with fingers. A new kind of orgasm built and washed over me immediately. Shrieking, I climaxed. He rode me to a few less intense orgasms, slowing or quickening his pace with my peaks and valleys.

I was in heaven.

When I finally came down, Clayton removed the fingers in my pussy and placed them in my mouth. I didn’t know what to think about that, but instinctively I sucked them like a cock, tasting myself. I liked it. He finger fucked my mouth with one hand and my ass with a lubricated finger from the other. I just lay there looking at the ceiling reveling in the debauchery.

I had no idea what debauchery was.

Clayton removed the fingers from my mouth. I looked at him expectantly. He put them back in my waiting pussy as he removed the finger of his other hand from my ass. He looked at it, then at me, then at my mouth. I spasmed around his fingers as realization hit me. He was putting that finger in my mouth. Instinctively my mouth opened just enough for a finger. I extended my tongue delicately out over my teeth, inviting him to do as he pleased. Clayton began rubbing my clit as he pushed the finger that had been in my ass into my sucking mouth. I came immediately and explosively. Moisturizer does not taste great, but I didn’t care, I just kept coming.

Suddenly pressure against my asshole returned. I was still coming down but this made me peak again. I couldn’t speak with the finger in my mouth but I hummed, anticipating his member. The pressure disappeared suddenly. I moaned in disappointment around the finger, still sucking and tonguing it. Then fingers left my pussy. I heard some fumbling. Suddenly fingers were back in my pussy and shortly the pressure against my tight ring returned. I could feel Clayton’s thighs on either side if my ass. He was ready. I started mounting to climax again and he pushed into my virgin ass.

Clayton pushed into my ass in one long lubricated painful thrust. I think his hand got in the way, so he moved the fingers out of my pussy but left his thumb pumping on my nub. He pushed in the remaining length until he’d bottomed out. I opened my mouth in a big ‘O’ around his finger and let out a low guttural moan of excruciating pleasure. Against the tile walls of the bathroom, the moan sounded holy and deep, like chanting from a Tibetan monastery. Clayton let me adjust and ride down my orgasm before slowly thrusting in and out of me in time to the slow pulsing of his thumb.

“Okay, now use your ass muscles,” he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about. But I squeezed with my muscles and sure enough he let out a moan. “Oh, that’s it, Alex. Milk my cock.”

Pleasure radiated through me, overtaking discomfort. Soon he began grunting and sped up his motions, forgetting completely about my clit. In the end I got the better of him and he just started fucking my ass as fast as he could. I could barely keep my contractions in time with his thrusts. Suddenly he howled and thrust into me a last time. I felt his cock jerking around inside me, pumping rope after rope of cum into my bowel .

I reached up and massaged myself to a quick orgasm, looking him directly in the eyes. We said nothing, just maintained eye contact as I worked up and over the climax. Finally I relaxed and he slid out of me.

“Woooo, that was intense,” I said.

Clayton, in answer, stood up. He looked at his cock then at me and crooked an eyebrow in question. In response I got up on my knees in front of him with his cock directly in front of my face. Closing my eyes I took the softening head into my mouth and began working it like he taught me. That moisturizer still tasted bad.

“Gently!” he cried. I slowed and softened my efforts. Enjoying the sensation of a smaller cock in my mouth. I was able to practice working my tongue and lips more easily. Teeth didn’t cause a problem against flaccid flesh. Clayton finally broke the silence.

“Alex, that’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen outside of porn.”

I popped off him for a second, smiling. “Would ‘most girls’ let you do that?” I asked, popping his cock back in. I tongued the head with long strokes, trying to get him hard again.

“No. And you didn’t let me do anything. You did it yourself.” He’d surely fucked my ass on his own. But I wasn’t going to argue, not with a cock hardening in my mouth.

“Cum on my face if you want,” I said, quickly putting his rising cock back in my mouth.

Clayton just nodded. Then he grabbed the back of my head and started fucking my mouth gently. I did my best not to... suck at that. I guess I did okay because he started going deeper, finally hitting the back of my mouth causing me to gag. He just kept gently fucking my face, not pressing the issue. But I gagged at the bottom of every stroke. Suppressing the gag reflex made be feel alert and aware of my whole body. I flushed wet, feeling of powerful and controlled.

Finally, Clayton said, “When I thrust in, try to stick out your tongue just a bit don’t worry about your throat.”

He thrust into my throat for the first time, I gagged really hard. He pulled back out. Then, after I recovered, he did it again. I gagged hard again. I was totally aware of everything now, especially my aching pussy. “Lord that feels good. But I don’t know how you suppress that gag,” he said.

“Try again,” I said roughly. I gagged again but I realized I wasn’t hurling. After he pulled off I said, “I’m not going to puke if you don’t hold it down too long. Just ignore the sound, fuck my throat.”

He looked doubtful but he did what I said. He started slow, fucking deeper. A series of rhythmic glucking sounds emanated from me at the down stroke into my throat, which drooled irrepressibly. Tears formed in my eyes from the effort. Soon I was a wet mess above and below.

Clayton stopped after half a minute, but I could tell he was enjoying it.

“Am I hurting you?” I shook my head. “Well if you want to keep going let me know cause I am loving it!”

In answer I pushed my face back onto his cock. He continued. By the end he was fucking my throat spasmodically. I fought to get air but finally just gave up and let him fuck my throat. He came almost immediately, pulling me off his cock and fisting it just over my eyes. I squinted them and concentrated on getting air into my lungs as he yelled out in orgasm, pumping his third load of the afternoon onto my face. My face was so wet the cum just slid right off onto my chest and neck.

We washed up in the shower after he finished. Clayton apologized for losing it on me. My throat was a little bruised so I tried not to talk much. Eventually, we made it back to my bed and lay together.

Breathing came easily to me, as if a great weight had been lifted off my chest. “I feel new and refreshed,” I told him.

“It must be that minty shampoo you have,” he said, taking me literally.

I laughed. “No, I mean I’ve come through some crucible and now I’m free and clear of... something terrible, like a lie revealed. Or a verdict overturned. And a reward given.”

“I guess Phil was the cause..”

“The mood around here lifted when he departed, that’s for sure. He was like a cancer, metastasizing from Mom to me. But it’s more than that. A big part of it is I know what sex is now. This was fun, and dirty, and hot, and I wanted it, and it felt amazing.”

Clayton didn’t say anything, he just held me tight for a second. “You’re good at it too,” he said finally.

--

Therapy went well and ended after ten sessions. Until graduation, Clayton and I fucked before, during and after our study sessions. My ass was off limits for the most part but a strong oral fixation persisted.

Graduating ahead of everyone my age, including Clayton, was weird. But, acceptance letter from Georgetown in hand, I put that chapter of my life behind me. My summer was free to do as I pleased.

So after a brief two week visit with the grandparents, I returned home to fuck and relax for the summer. Clayton stayed in town with a coach and his family. He got me into a regular workout schedule which helped with the sex and Judo. We had a lot of adventures.

Eventually, Clayton fucked Mom.

-- But that is another story.

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Copyright © All stories, poems and plays copyright Me.



Continue reading Modern Relations (part 04): Alex and her Mother (Halloween)

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