Cole, or F-ing an Xperienced Virgin

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Cole, or Fucking an Experienced Virgin

I may have been a thirty-something over-padded divorced mother of two, but with Cole I could be 15 again. It was a well-plotted game we devised and brought out every so often, not TOO often, during the year I reigned supreme queen of his delusional little world. He had to get higher than a kite on meth to do it. Conversly, I had to be stone sober, and preferably awakened from the depths of REM sleep, which in both cases happened a lot in those days. Often his weird friends would be downstairs listening. It must have been the play-acting, the illusion within the illusion, the fantasy within the fantasy, that led us to twisted heights of passion we still talk about, years later, in an affectionate-remembrance sort of way.

One particular night, Cole wandered in around 2:30am, and he wanted a virgin. Or more like three or four of them. I was to be his cherry-popping party. He had it all planned: we’d go down to the river, throw down a blanket, and he’d be my first. He graphically described what was on his mind while I struggled awake and into persona. Soon, there I was, on a isolated beach, having dropped half my years, now innocent, illegal, and alone with an older male slut who was determined to have me.

The element of resistance was key, and had to be established right away. “No!” my teenaged self told him in response to his proposition, skittering back to the edge of my bed (edge of beach blanket), glaring.

It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive, but she wasn’t sure she wanted HIM to be my first. He was a little scary. Overpowering. He didn’t really love her either, she didn’t think.

I will now interrupt this piece of erotica to give some guidance for the following. My alter-ego, the virgin(s), is referred to in 3rd person, “she.” She could be my own youth or any of the hip-hugger jeaned, glitter belt-wearing, streaky-haired little hotty wanna-be sluts that prolifate the whole country in the last couple years. “I,” of course, am myself, in the present. When playing this role, it was necessary to separate my real self from my character. “She” got to act it out, but ‘I’ still had to be present to interact with Cole & have the real pleasure.

Back to our story…

“Will you scratch my back?” he plied, the whiney little beggar.

Although it took some persuasion, the girl agreed to that much. He stripped off his shirt and pants and lay face down.

For a moment I was both myself and the character being portrayed; or, she borrowed into my skills. I’m a natural masseuse. Cole received the benefits of my abilities, often incorporated into our sex. This was just one illegal bahis of those times. It always worked best sitting astride his back, which she cracked for him and dug into with the heels of her sweaty little palms. Every few minutes he’d ask, “Does this turn you on? Are you wet?” In character, I snorted and denied it.

When he rolled over underneath, she modestly jumped off and kneeled to the side of him. “Scratch my chest,” he demanded, the spoiled brat; sighing at his calculated
encroachment on her comfort zone, she obeyed anyway. His eyes glittered and the bulge in his boxers grew. she cast her eyes down pretended not to notice.

“Oooh, look at those pretty pink nipples.” He fiddled with them till they were painfully hard. “Does my baby want some lovin’?”

He was being cheesy on purpose, to make the virgin sensibilites nervous and sick; he liked the power-struggle aspect. “Do you want some dick, baby? Have you ever touched one before?”

She shyly admitted she had not.

“Will you please touch my cock? I really want you to touch it. Pleeeeease? It would feel so good.”

He wheedled, almost, not quite begging. She let him lead my hand slowly to the front of his fly, pulling back a couple of times.

Not sure what it was supposed to feel like, she put her hand on his prick, then around it through his underwear. She was almost surprised it wasn’t some alien thing.

“Yeah, baby, that feels good.” He removed the boxers altogether and said, “Now do it again.”

He was totally naked; she was totally naked. She wasn’t at all prepared or ready, but it seemed the inevitable was about the happen, with or with her consent. It wasn’t supposed to be with this cliche-throwing miscreant, but now that she’d had his cock in her hand, what could she do?

Shivering from cold and fear, she curled into a semi-fetal position. “Honey, are you cold?” I, in fact, was. Cole turned toward me and held me, pulling a fuzzy fleece blanket up over our necks. He began touching me lightly, here and there, nipples again, hips, arms; all the while the head of his organ insinuated itself between us against the skin of my legs (his torso was twice the length of mine), which I kept tightly pressed together. I wanted him to kiss me but he didn’t. Foreplay was too much to ask; I had to provide my own, mentally.

“Would you like to suck me off?” “No way!” The prospect was too overwhelming. Put THAT in her mouth?

“Please?” He led her hand in that direction, to his penis. She was relieved it just felt like skin, tight, pulsating, impatient flesh. Her own sex jumped in reaction and she felt heat where before it was lukewarm. illegal bahis siteleri

“Oh, yeah, rub it; yeah, grab it. Uh, yeah, tighter baby. Mmmmmm…”

The cock in her hand was responding; a sticky drop fell unto her wrist. To my/her surprise, he let her explore his maleness at her leisure, teaching her how to play with it, what he liked. “Tickle my balls,” was his next request, when he saw she’d been somewhat squeamishly avoiding them. She thought it a bizarre thing to do but complied, lightly scratching her fingernails over the rumpled skin while he made breathy moaning noises.

Roughly, he pushed her over and rolled her onto her back, forcing his knee between her thighs. She fought to push him away, scared again.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? You know I want to fuck a virgin. I want your blood. Tell me you’re a virgin.” He was talking to both of us now.

“I’m a virgin,” she said in my little-girl voice.

“What else?”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

Now he spoke to the girl. “I won’t do it till you’re ready, baby. I want you to want it.” His hard and dripping member slid down to her hole, but not inside.

“Feel my cock? It wants you. I want to be in you, fucking you. I wanna rip your hymen. I want your cherry. Then I want you to queaf all over my cock while I ram it home…” He spouted a steady stream of selfish, filthy porn-star lines, reveling in his role.

I acted scared, still, like I was fighting my teenaged animal nature, leading him on though this little vignette. Then deliberately, I inched my pussy up onto his cock a millimeter at a time, till I felt it pushing again the taut membrane that meant that she was untouched.

“Tell me to take your virginity, that you want me to rip your hymen.”

She/I repeated him verbatim, playing along.

“Beg me.”

“Please bust my cherry, I want to give it to you. Make me bleed all over your big cock. Please, I’m so hot for you, I want it to be you, I wanted you since the first time I saw you, wanted you on top of me with your dick in me. Please, please take me, fuck me, break me…”

I gave him what he wanted, turning myself horny in the process. Our characters became interchangable; i was slipping in and out of her depending on who he needed to talk to, since he’d just appointed himself director, too.

Cole looked me in the eye. “Scream,” he commanded. His big veiny penis suddenly filled me. She screamed in pain, a piercing shriek that momentarily froze everything.

“Do it again!” he demanded, his eyes bugging out in his excitement, pulling out and going back to hisoriginal position.

The monologue canlı bahis siteleri repeated itself: I was a virgin slut, I needed some dick, I needed my itch scratched. Oh, yeah, and please rip my hymen.

Cole shoved. I screamed.

“Oh my GOD.” This from Cole. I think he was pleasantly surprised he (or I) was this convincingly believable–to his standards, of course. “Again!”

This time he lifted my legs over his shoulders, but he was too tall for them to bend, so instead me pinned them, spread, to my shoulders. She couldn’t meet his eyes, exposed like that, knowing what was coming.

“What a pretty pussy you’ve got; I gotta fuck that pussy, fuck that pretty little cunt.”

“Tell me…”

“I can’t.” Messing with him.

“Yeah you can, babeh, tell me you want my huge-ass monster pecker in you. I’m gonna rape you, bitch, now tell me!” It wasn’t forced sex, although we had been toyingly playing it that way. The word rape meant something more like ‘make you like it’ to us.

“Uh-uh.” She was fucking, she was having sex, she was being porked, shagged, doing the wild thing. Never had she imagined that, after the first shot of pain, it would compare to such absolute animal-instinct rightness. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d have to work for his reward.

“You’re askin’ for it, ho. Tell big daddy you want his meat, his big daddy come.”

If he was mentioning come, it meant he was close, although he’d never let on.

The prospect of daddy doing his pure daughter was irresistable to our dirty minds…”Daddy, can you make me come too? I wanna feel your hot come in my pussy, please fuck my virgin hole till I come.”

He stabbed me again; I screamed. Our real selves were starting to show through but at this stage that was okay. I was moaning with each of his thrusts I had to push them up from the undersides or I wouldn’t have been able to breathe. His cock drilled my pussy, then retreated, sometimes quickly and forcefully, or he’d alternately stop and pull back so languidly I could feel every ridge and vein. Finally I came hard, three times, bam! bam! bam, while he more or less congratulated the both of us for our sexual abilities. He was always impressed with how many times I could come, and by the fact it was him making me do it. Then he wound up for his.

“I’m gonna come, come, tell me you wanna feel my cum…”

I told him. It was true enough. I grabbed his ass and prepared to enjoy the ride. He rocked us both to fucking schitzo-dolls paradise. Cole was so verbal, deliciously filthy, it just that was enough to take me over the edge again. Lolling in shangri-la-la-land, I distantly heard:

“I gotta come, uh, uh, oh, yeah…in the pussy… uuuuuuh,…” at which point he became incoherent and did just that.

***
(If you liked this story, please visit another with myself and Cole, over in the “anal” section.)

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