I was the maid of honor at a friend's wedding a couple of weekends ago. It was her second marriage. She was marrying a wealthy financial advisor, so the wedding and reception were very elegant. It was a black tie affair, so I rented a gown and wore my best jewelry.
Lucas, a hedge fund manager, and I met at the rehearsal party. He was the best man, daringly handsome with jet black hair and dark penetrating eyes. We were both divorced, single, and hit it off immediately. It was assumed by the wedding party that we would spend the night together. We did.
Lucas was a fine specimen of a man with walnut size balls and a long thick cock curved like a banana. It wasn't a radical bend, but he was bent. Slightly embarrassed, he told me he had a condition called Peyronie's disease, named after an eighteenth century French physician. It was like the curvature of the spine but a penile curvature.
We made glorious love that night like we had known each other for years. Maybe it was because I've always been partial to banana curved cocks. It took me back to my teenage years when I was first exploring my young tender body.
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There's a well worn idiom that says, "When the cats are away, the mice will play." That pretty much describes my situation as a teenager. Let's say my parents were the cats giving me the opportunity to play.
It began on a weekend with my parents out of town. I was pretty much confined to the house because I promised to baby-sit my younger brother. One night with only my little brother in the house and fast asleep, I started my exploration of self discovery.
I knew for a long time there was something between my legs that was very sensitive. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do but when touching myself down there, it felt so good. I licked my fingers and rubbed the little button that seemed to grow at the touch and gave me a certain pleasure that a girl doesn't get just from a boyfriend's kiss.
There was something else that was new. While I continued to pleasure myself, the insides of my girly opening became sopping wet. I wanted to find out if I had just pissed on the bed but when I put two fingers inside, the fluid was a much different, thicker and clear. My heart was pounding, and I began to feel guilty for doing a dirty thing. I stopped playing with myself being certain I might had done some kind of terrible damage to my body. I was afraid. Maybe my hair will fall out or I'd go blind.
The next morning, I felt fine. I was not about to descend into hell and my body wasn't turning purple. So, after my brother was in bed the next night, I started again. This time I added my hairbrush to get a feeling of how it felt to slip an object into my wet pussy. The brush felt okay. Maybe something thicker might give me a different feeling.
That curiosity took me into the kitchen returning to the bedroom with a banana. I wondered, Would it fit? Would it hurt? Would it go all the way in? Spreading my legs wide, the tip of the banana easily slipped past the folds of my pussy lips and inched in. I was so wet there was nearly no resistance but experiencing the new sensations made me cautious. Slowly I pressed the fruit further in, pulled it back, then back in again until I could only see the stem peeking out from between my legs. It felt so foreign but good in the way it filled me.
Nature and a girl's natural instincts seemed to be controlling me. I began fucking myself with the banana working myself into my first real orgasm. Looking down at myself with the banana lodged inside, I was alarmed at how everything down there looked so swollen. It looked as if I had contracted some kind of terrible disease. My concerns were overly pessimistic. I was fine and back to normal the next morning, wanting to do it all over again.
My parents would be away for only one more night when I tried it with other veggies. They all gave me the same pleasurable results although the banana was always my favorite. The thing is, I was very curious about what a boy's penis would do to me. Are they more like the banana, the cucumber or a carrot?
It was a turning point in my life. I had decided there was nothing to be afraid of, and it was time to move onto the real thing, a real cock to pleasure me. Before the year was over, I had sex with five different high school boys. Each time was good but different, however the first time was a little bit of a surprise. Unlike my earlier explorations with produce from the super market, a boy's cock offered so much more. They were warm and alive, darting in and out of me. They pulsed and throbbed, balls banged against my ass making sex so much more exciting and desirable than fruit. My curiosity seemed to have no limits. I wanted to find out what other boys were like.
From that point on, I was fascinated by the looks, shapes and sizes of each boy's dick. My vegetarian days were over. I was now a carnivore craving juicy read meat, very rare but hard, giving me orgasms that came easily and often. I suppose I got a reputation. I was the high school slut, but I didn't care.
All this time I had been careful. The boys wore protection or they didn't fuck me. The best I could offer them was head. I'd pull off the condom and let him finish with a blowjob. I loved the taste; they loved watching me gulp it down. But as time went by, I wanted to feel skin on skin and feel the flood of cum shooting inside me down below rather than down my throat. Unfortunately, that had to wait until my senior year when my mom put me on the pill.
Okay, there was one boy with a cock I adored. I let him fuck me bareback, but I trusted him to pull out. It was a gamble, and it paid off. He pumped into me with long powerful strokes. Every nerve ending inside me was more sensitive than what it was like with latex. My orgasms came more frequently ending with the strongest I'd ever had. He pulled out just in time, but that was so terribly disappointing, even tragic. I really wanted the final ending with him still inside.
When it happened the first time, my body shuddered with surprise feeling the boy spill his load, squishing with each of his final strokes. It was warm and creamy, a very nice erotic experience. The future looked bright as I anxiously anticipated more of the same.
My parents got on my case about having too many dates, avoiding my studies, and staying out late at night. They must have suspected that I was screwing most of them. Eventually, I was grounded for staying out almost until dawn having screwed two boys at a party. Well, one was at the party, the other was in his car. Being grounded just seemed to be such a stupid, corny, old school thing to do. My parents were just that way, old school.
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The night Lucas and I were together consummating our own relationship after my friend's wedding, he asked me about the tattoos I had on my breasts and one just above my pussy. Again it brought be back memories of my teenage years while I told him about growing up. "It began on one of the weekends when my parents left to see my grandparents," I explained.
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I was home alone except for looking after my younger brother. I had always wondered what my parents had stored away in the closet with those dusty old 35 millimeter slides. How old and creepy was that! They were stored in round black plastic trays. The pictures were so small I couldn't imagine how they viewed them.
A friend of mine was mechanically inclined and told me to look for a Kodak projector. Then he showed me how to use it by placing a tray on the top, making it turn, and beaming each picture on a screen that we found in a closet..
It was fascinating browsing through my parents' old photographs. You wouldn't call them great photography, and they certainly could have used Photoshop. Even though they were faded grainy pictures, the best part was seeing my parents when they were only a little older than me.
I got to laughing, seeing my mom with flowers in her hair at some rally. She wore a colorful tie dyed dress that I had once seen in her closet. It was swirling blue, yellow, orange, green and red in concentric circles. I could have sworn she wasn't wearing a bra.
Dad wore a t-shirt with a splash of color but no pattern. He was smoking and it didn't look like any cigarettes sold at the 7-Eleven. They looked like he could have rolled them, so I kept watching. There was one girl who was topless that looked like she was passing out. Some of the pictures made it look like people were camping.