I lived in a rather conservative household, not to mention attended an abstinence-only school, and as such I was sixteen years old the first time I watched porn. I waited until just after midnight when I knew my parents would be asleep before I booted up my computer, plugged in headphones, and slipped in the DVD a friend of mine had given me.
I still remember so much of it vividly. There were dozens of people gathered in a large white room, and after a few moments of mingling they were eventually separated into pairs, sometimes sets of three, and distributed to various sections of the room, each containing beds.
On the command of someone off-screen, a husky "Begin!", the people began stripping off their clothes.
I can still remember gaping at the screen and wondering what the heck was going on. One moment everyone was just standing around talking, and the next they were all naked and kissing and touching each other in ways no one had to tell me were inappropriate.
That's how I discovered what sex was. I discovered that a man's penis was much larger and scarier looking than I imagined, and that it stuck up when a man was ready for sex, and that it leaked whitish fluid—though I didn't know why. And I discovered that a woman, too, could leak fluid from her vagina, and that there were holes down there where a penis could enter, and that there were certain places to touch that could make a woman moan.
I learned that sex involved putting a man's penis in your mouth and leaning back so that he could squirt that whitish liquid all over your face. I learned that it was spreading your legs and allowing a man to burrow his face between them until you screamed. I learned that it was having your breasts tugged, bitten, licked, until the nipples hardened to pebbled points and red teeth marks and finger bruises peppered the delicate skin.
I learned that sex was filthy. It was disgusting. It was sinful. It was something I shouldn't have ever been watching. It was something I shouldn't have ever found appealing.
And yet I couldn't deny the wetness between my thighs, or the strange heat that had begun to spread there since the first sight of a fully naked man and woman had appeared on screen.
I had watched, avidly, as a man's fingers dipped in between one woman's legs, stroking her vagina with long swipes of his large fingers, and squirmed. I clenched my thighs together as I stared, growing exponentially more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. When the man finally slipped a finger inside her and the woman threw her head back and gasped, I stood up from my computer chair and slipped out of my panties, ignoring the wet spot that had spread on the middle strap. I sat back down, spread my legs as wide as they would go, and with a shuddering breath slipped a finger down my sex.
I remember closing my eyes and gasping at that first touch. I remember my hips rearing up and my vagina clenching and liquid pooling out of me and onto the chair. I opened my eyes and as the woman gyrated on the man's fingers I stroked myself. Each swipe made me gasp heavily, each pinch made me shake. One finger turned into two, and then three, as I rapidly flicked the nub in between my parted folds, taking a moment every so often to brush aside the wayward hairs that would get in the way.
The man on screen spread the woman's vagina—the woman's pussy
, I thought, naughtily—wide open, until every inch of her, every pink bump and crease and hold and dip, was on display. He held her wide open and pushed his thick penis inside her and the moan she let out was so agonized that I had to bite my lip to keep from doing the same.
I was so close, so very close, but I didn't know to what.
And yet I kept on touching myself even as the pressure grew between my legs and pooled in my belly.
Not once did my eyes leave the screen.
The man's fingers once again began fondling the woman's swollen nub and he fondled her until she screamed in my ear and that was it. I came explosively, cum pouring out of my quivering hole and dripping all over my fingers. I rubbed myself for as long as I could, desperate to prolong the feeling, until the pleasure receded to discomfort and I had to stop. I patted my quivering pussy and slumped into the chair, feeling as if tiny sparks were going off across my body and my bones had turned to gel.
I panted and continued to watch the video, one hand still petting over my hairy mound and the other resting over one heaving breast.
I got myself off twice more that night, and when the video finished I opened my window, pulled my panties back on, tossed a shirt over the chair, and climbed, boneless, into bed.
My friend never did get her video back.
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