Storiesonline.net ------- Sam's Entry by Ken Randall Copyright© 2011 by Ken Randall ------- Description: Sam is a twenty-one year old virgin, trying to win a story writing contest where he must describe something he knows nothing about: hot, sexy sex! He calls upon the help of a female friend who knows a little more about it than he does. Unfortunately, it turns out she doesn't know as much as he'd hoped, so they turn to Plan B: first-hand experience. Will his experience with Robin be enough for him to write a story worthy of the contest? Let's hope. Codes: MF cons rom 1st ------- He thrust his cock into the slippery wet love tunnel. She moaned along with his stammered declaration of pleasure. They began moving together. And soon they were coming. "Uhg!" Sam muttered. "No, no, no! Garbage!" And he deleted the paragraph he'd written for the thirtieth time. He bowed his head and thumped it onto the desk, giving his water glass a jostle and nearly spilling it onto his laptop. Who would have thought writing about sex could be so difficult? There were thousands and thousands of sex stories online. But most of them were nonsense, chocked full of clichés, stereotypes, and outright bullshit. He'd read a thousand stories and found maybe four or five that seemed to capture what he thought sex must be really like. But really, he had no idea. This was the trouble in the first place: he was a virgin. And he was trying to describe sex in a compelling, arousing, and realistic way. It just wasn't gonna work. But the contest deadline was only a few days away. His phone rang on the desk. He stared at it, not wanting to answer it. It vibrated. It rotated slowly around. The call display turned to face him. It was Robin. What kind of mess had she gotten herself into now? "What now?" he said, finally answering. "Wow! Is that any way to talk to a lady?" "Trying to write here!" "You're always trying to write. Maybe you should stop trying and just do it." "You sound drunk." "Perceptive of you." "You are drunk." "And you're sexy." "Shut up." "Honestly. The reason I'm calling is 'cause I need a ride." "Surprise, surprise." "Yeah well, you know me. I let Share talk me into another one of her this-one-is-definitely-the-one blind dates again." "Again? What is it with you? Are you really that lonely?" "Not really. This time I was more bored than anything. I played that bingo game you suggested. If the guy spouts off five cliché male stereotypes before he hits on me for sex, I win." "And did you win?" "Well, he talked UFC. That's one. Then he went into what a great car he has. Two. Then he talked about some stupid football game he was at last week. Three. Then he talked about how he works out all the time in such great detail I actually thought I might puke. But before he went into the next nauseating cliché, he started gaping at my tits like he was Indiana Jones, pondering how he would snatch up the idol. Next thing I know he's talking about what a great lover he is and how maybe I should let him take me home so he can show me the wildest, most amazing sex I've ever had with his athlete's body." "You gotta stop letting Share pick your dates." "Maybe I should just quit dating period." "Wha'd you say to him?" "I said, if all he wants is to cum, there's plenty of free porn on the net, and I hear hand lotion is on sale at the drugstore down the street." "And he replied?" She attempted an impression of the guy. "I don't want no hand lotion, baby. I want yer sweet pussy juices all over my big fat ten-inch cock." Sam burst out laughing. "Wow! Every guy you meet seems to have a big fat ten-inch cock. Why is that?" "I don't know. I just hope it's not because they think I'm the type of gal who looks like she needs that much dick to satisfy her. I don't look whorish, do I?" "I doubt he thought that. I'm guessing it's probably because every other dumb-ass skank he's banged went on and on about what a huge cock he had. So he probably thinks that's what every woman wants." "I wouldn't know what every other woman wants. Personally, I'd rather not be ripped up by some walking rhinoceros of a man. I'm not sure why anybody would. I can't even imagine why someone would think that feels good." "Hey! That gives me an idea!" "What idea?" Robin asked. There was an edge of apprehension in her voice, as though she thought he might be trying to set her up with some other rhinoceros-cocked UFC douche. "Where are you? I'll come get you. We have to talk about something." "I'm at Stype's. What you wanna-" "Never mind. I just need some story advice. Don't pass out on me, you lush." He hung up on her and snatched up his keys. Fifteen minutes later he was at Stype's. She was sitting outside against the brick wall still underneath the payphone she had called him from. She saw him pull up and hopped into his car. "Took you long enough." "I came straight here. What did you want me to do, fly?" "I just want the world to stop spinning for a moment." "Stop spinning for a moment, world," Sam said to nobody. "Thanks," Robin replied. "So what happened after the little douche monkey made a pass at you?" "Oh. Right. Forgot about him already. He told me he would rather have my pussy juices than hand lotion. So I picked up my drink and said, 'this is as close to juices as your cock's gonna get', and I poured it all over his crotch. Then he jumped up and started calling me a fuckin' bitch cause they were designer slacks or whatever. I told him he should treat women with respect if he wants them to respect his pants. Something like that anyway." "Not exactly a zinger was it." "No. I was mad. I mean, I've been hit on lots of times by uglier guys than him. But with him I think it clicked in how disgusting it is that guys just expect you to be all dying to fuck them just because of their stupid haircut and bicepts and designer pants and whatever stupid fuckin' car he squealed out of the parking lot in." "Did you just say bicepts?" "I don't remember. Are you sure you wanna correct a woman's grammar when she's already in a bitchy mood?" "What you gonna do? Get me in a headlock with your mighty bicepts?" "I shouldn't have wasted that drink on his crotch." "Yeah. There was definitely a better line you could have said." "Like what?" "I don't know. How about, 'Yeah, your hands seem soft enough already, ya wanker... '?" "Where were you half an hour ago when I needed a good line like that?" "Writing. Which brings me to what I wanted to ask you." "Which is?" "How many guys have you been with, Robin? I mean, like, all the way, point of no return, penis, meet cervix type of deal." "That's a worse question than asking a lady her weight, Samuel. You really are looking for a smack." "Come on, you know I'm not trying to insult you. I just need to know how ... experienced you are." "Why?" Samuel thought a moment. He made a right turn. "Because I have no experience at all. I've never even kissed a woman, and I'm trying to win a sex story contest." Robin burst out laughing. Sam grimaced. "Now who's being insulting?" "What? You want me to tell you all my dirty little sex adventures, all the ins and outs and oohs and ahhs so you can write it more convincingly in your story?" She was still laughing as she said it. Samuel made a left turn. "Something like that, I guess. I sat there all day trying to explain what it feels like to ... uh, penetrate someone, and stroke inside them, and make love, but everything I wrote sounded like some lame-ass imitation of a second-rate porn story that's already been done a million times!" "Two," Robin said. "Two what?" "Two guys." "Only two?" Robin smacked him. "Yes, only two, you asshole! What do you think I am, Miss Turbo Cum Guzzler 2011?" "Well, no. Of course not! I just mean, it might be harder for you to describe it to me if you don't have much experience." "How do you know I didn't fuck these two guys ten thousand times?" Sam glanced upward, computing in his head. Then he smirked. "You're 21. Assuming you fucked three times a day every day without fail which is highly unlikely, even for someone in their prime, you'd still have to have been fucking every day since you were three years old to add up to twenty thousand fucks." "You're such a nerd! No wonder you're a virgin." Sam made a left turn. "I'm just good at math, that's all." "And astronomy, and physics, and anatomy, and writing." "You make me sound like some kind of nerd." "You know you're a nerd. Why deny it?" "Least I don't wear glasses." "Yet." "Shut up." "The first guy was my first boyfriend and that doesn't even count cause he only lasted like ... negative five seconds." Now Sam laughed. "How the hell does a guy last negative five seconds in bed? I mean, I know you're hot, but come on!" "He came first, and then he put it in me." "Ha ha ha ha ha!" "Shut up. It's not even funny." "Yes it is. I mean, if he already came, why would he put it in you? Just so he doesn't feel like a total fool?" "I didn't bother to ask him." "So what happened with the second guy?" "The second guy did me while I was passed out at a party. Last thing I remember, I was being carried up to a bedroom and when I woke up, my pants were around my ankles and my pussy was very sore all the next day. The only sign that the guy was even there was the used condom he left as a souvenir on my forehead." Sam turned left. "You should have taken it to the hospital and got them to do a rape kit on you." "Hindsight's twenty-twenty." "Apparently." "At the time I was just so humiliated and angry and scared, and I felt so stupid for getting so wasted. All I could think about was ... at least he wore a condom." "Foresight's twenty-twenty when you're raping someone I guess." "I guess. Far as I'm concerned it never even happened. I hope he gets hit by a truck. Then he won't even be able to brag about it." "Well, crap! You're no good to me at all! I need real details from sex you really had with someone you really said yes to and who actually lasted more than negative five seconds! Come on! I'll even split the prize money with you!" "What? You want me to just go jump in the sack with some random guy just so I can describe all the pumping and thrusting and spurting to you? Why don't you go hook up with some random girl, just for the experience of it? I mean, you may be a nerd, but you're not ugly or dorky or anything." "Gee, thanks." "Why are you a virgin anyway? What's your story? You've seriously never had a girl say yes to you?" "I've had two say yes to me." "Go on..." "I was dating a girl in junior high who said yes to me, but the day we were actually gonna do it, I found out she was also screwing another guy in our class." "That whore!" Robin said, slapping her thighs with both hands. "Tell me about it." "So why didn't you just go ahead and do her anyway? I mean, just for the horniness factor and all?" "I was scared." "Of?" "I was worried I might fall in love with her ... moreso. So I broke it off instead." Sam turned right of course. They were quiet for about half a block. "What was her name?" Robin asked. "Jeannie, I think." "As if you forgot her name, Mr. Supernerd. Quit fronting." "Jeannie West. She caused the final sunset of my heart." "Shut it, cornball. She couldn't have been that devastating at that age. Who was number two?" "Just last summer, in my physics lab at school. There was this girl who wanted help with her studies-" "Now this sounds like a cheesy porn story! Go on!" "Nothing happened. I helped her. We never tumbled into bed in a wild, uncontrollable lust. She didn't even give me any long lingering gazes or run her hand slowly up my thigh." "That whore!" Robin said, slapping both hands onto her thighs. "Yeah. Few weeks later, near exam time, she asks me to help her cheat. I said no. Then she offered me sex for it, if I help her cheat. I said no again." "Was she hot?" "What does that matter?" "I just wanna know how hot of a girl you actually had the balls to say no to." "Lack of balls, I'd say. If I had more balls I woulda done it in an instant. She was pretty hot. I was scared to get caught cheating. But I was also scared to look at myself in the mirror if I lost my virginity to someone so cheap she'd fuck you just for a few answers on college exam. It wasn't even the finals!" "I still say that takes amazing balls." "You're drunk. What do you know?" "I know some guys can't even say no when sex isn't even offered to begin with." "Touché." "But this still leaves us with the problem of how you're gonna write this story. I have no real experience with sex, so I can't help you." "Got any slutty friends?" "I've been trying to hook you up on dates for months and you never go for it!" "I mean, do you have any friends who can describe sex to you? And then you can describe it to me." Suddenly Robin was dialing her phone. "Share?" she said. Sam shook his head, half chuckling. Of course Share. Robin's phone erupted into screams and squeals of rapid dialog. "No! I was at Stype's. No ... Yes ... I know. Wait..." Then she was just listening for a minute. "The reason I'm calling is I need your help with something. When's the last time you got laid? Today? Great! Well what was it like?" Then there was a bunch of yeahs and uh-huhs as Share described the guy to her and what happened. She leaned toward Sam and tilted the phone away from her ear a bit. " ... was pretty big and he went pretty hard so it was kinda sore for a while, but he was such a great kisser that I hardly noticed, and next thing you know he pulled out and sprayed me in the tits. So yeah, it was okay I guess." "Just okay? Not amazing? Come on, girl! I need details!" "I thought I just gave you all the details!" "No. I mean, what was it like, I mean, really? What did it feel like to have that big fat dick inside you, and you know, thrusting, and banging away?" "You know what it feels like. Why you asking me that?" "Well of course I know what it feels like. I just wanna hear what it was like for you." "I thought you said you didn't know," Sam muttered. Robin covered the phone so Share wouldn't hear. She whispered loudly and rapidly. "Okay. So I lied! I wasn't passed out through the whole thing. Just the first part! I woke up in the middle of it. I just didn't want to remember." "So why does Share think you know all about it?" "Cause I lied to her. D'uh." "Oh." Sam turned left one last time and pulled up in front of Robin's building. Robin tilted the phone toward him again. " ... cause when you're not wet enough it kinda burns a bit. You know. But only at first cause I got wet really fast when he started kissing me. And once he worked himself in it just felt really hard and thick and nice you know? Why are you even asking me? You slept with that Sam guy and you said he was pretty big." Sam burst out laughing. Robin was jumped out of the car. "Wait! Wait!" Sam said, getting out on his side, still laughing. "You told her you slept with me!? Why would you say that?" "Shhh!" Robin said. Then she said into the phone, "No. It was the radio. I, uh, gotta go. I'm home." She snapped the phone shut and walked into her building. Sam followed her. She stopped in the lobby, digging for her keys in a small purse. "Come on! I drove you home, and apparently pleasured you without even knowing it. The least you could do is answer my question. Why would you tell Share that?" "Because I was embarrassed, okay!? She's always got such juicy stories and I never have any. So one night we were drunk and she wouldn't leave me alone so I made up a whole crap story about how you and me got drunk one night and we fooled around." "I don't even drink!" "Share doesn't know that!" "And you said I was good in bed? Ha! Thanks, I guess." "No. I said you were nice and big, and I got off really good lots of times. I have no idea if you really are good in bed or not. I just wanted it to be a juicy story, the kind she always tells." "You know, I bet half of her stories are bullshit anyway. Sex isn't amazing and fantastic and beautiful all the time." She found her keys but didn't open the lock. "How would you know?" "Because most people don't even know what sex is supposed to even be about. It's supposed to be about an experience and sharing and exploring and making someone else feel awesome about being who they are and showing them that for at least ten or twenty minutes life doesn't have to be all about a constant flight from the thousand and one worries and cares and guilt and shame of life and all the things that can kill you and all the things that can take away the people you love. Sometimes life is about peeking your head through the candy store window and seeing what sweet and magical and beautiful things we can experience in this world, even if it's only for a while. At least it's not sad or scary like everything else in life." Robin was standing with her face toward the window of her building. She dropped the hand that held the key in front of the lock. "You read that bullshit somewhere." "It's in my story. I wrote it. But it comes at the end, after they've done it." "Well, it's pretty good bullshit." "How do you know it's bullshit? Maybe that's what it's really like." "Sometimes it's the sex that's sad and scary, not life." "You're not even drunk." "Am too." "How'd you get so drunk then? How many drinks did this guy buy you before you threw one in his lap?" "Five." "Five? I've seen you on five drinks. You're a mess, ya lightweight. What was his name?" "Douchebag Jones. Wha' do you care?" "How tall was he?" She turned around and looked at him. "Why the third degree, Sam? Like you don't believe my story even happened." "Maybe it didn't." "Why would I lie?" "I don't know." "Come on in," she said, and finally unlocked the door. They went up five stairs and turned right. Her door was number six. "Wanna drink?" "I don't drink." "Want one anyway?" "No." "Wanna fuck?" He had been about to say something witty, but his brain went suddenly blank. "Um ... Robin? Is that you?" "Course it's me. I'm just kidding. How 'bout that drink?" "I'll have Pepsi if you got it." She got it. "We've known each other for four years now and all of the sudden you start joking about having sex now?" "You started it." "I did?" "You asked me how many guys I've slept with. You never asked me that before. You've never even mentioned sex until tonight." "There's a story contest. I could win $200. I really need the money." "So why, out of all your friends, did you ask me about it? You shoulda asked yer guy friends." "None of my friends have ever even gotten laid. And the ones that have, I don't wanna go announcing that I'm a still a virgin." "So you lie to your buddies too, huh? Ah ha!" "I never lied. I just don't bring it up, and when they start babbling about some chick's epic tits or whatever, I just smile and nod. If they want to assume I'm a big stud, that's their business." "You are a big stud. One of the hottest chicks in school threw herself at you, and you turned her down flat." "Mostly I said no because of the way she looked at me when she said it." "How's that?" "I dunno. It was kinda like, revulsion sorta. Like the next words out of her mouth would have been, 'But you have to promise not to tell anybody, okay!? Not a single living soul!' And I just couldn't look at myself in the mirror if I slept with someone who thinks sleeping with me is gross." "Can I borrow some of your backbone?" "What do you mean?" "Well, Share keeps setting me up with these douchebag guys, and I keep not saying no, because deep down inside I actually hope one of them will not be such a douche, or at least not be so obviously a douche, just enough so that I can actually say yes and have real sex and not feel like such a leper all the time. Call me a slut, but I actually do wanna have sex for real. I get horny all the time, just like you guys do, like, when I see a shirtless stud on TV, or a hot sex scene in a movie, or even a couple making out in the park. I can't help it. I'm normal. God help me. But I can't just throw myself at guys like Share can. And I can't just sleep with them like it's nothing, and walk away feeling great about myself and wondering who the next boy toy will be. But I also can't say no to her because deep down inside, I want one of these guy friends of hers to tell her what an amazing lay I was. Does that make any sense at all?" "No. It doesn't make sense. You're trying to convince me that you have no back bone, but it seems to me it's her who's got the rubber arm and the noodle spine. I think you're doing just fine." "Except, I'm lying all the time." "What about?" "About going to the bar to meet some douchey guy tonight, about throwing a drink in his lap and delivering a half-baked zinger, and how he peeled out of the parking lot all mad. None of that even happened." "So why were you at Stype's then?" "So I could get drunk enough to call you." "Why do you need to be drunk to call me? You know you can call me any time." She sat staring at him like there was an elephant in the room, sitting on his lap, and she was astonished that he didn't see it. Her eyes were wide and shining. Her lips were parted. Her palms were upward, spread as if questioning the universe. He stared back at her, trying to figure out why exactly she needed to be drunk to call him. Then she closed her eyes and just sat there with her mouth open, and her palms spread. She was breathing funny. Apparently there was an elephant in the room somewhere that he could not see. He looked around. "How long have we been friends, Sam?" she asked. "Four years. We met at that bar that one night. I was just walking by and there you were, half in the bag waiting for a cab that wouldn't come. You were too drunk and you needed someone to walk you home. So I walked you home." "And you didn't make a pass at me. And you didn't ask to come up so you could fuck me. And you didn't tell me you wanted to thrust your rock hard ten-inch cock into me. And you didn't grab my tits or try to kiss me. You didn't feed me a thousand bullshit lines about how beautiful I am and how you wanna stay with me forever but I just need to prove my love to you by fucking you. And you didn't give me all kinds of booze, get me wasted, and then rape me while I was passed out. You've never even tried to hold my hand. You've only ever been there for me, every single time I needed you. You've dropped what you were doing and came to my rescue. Share did try to set me up with a guy last night, but I said no. And then she started giving me the third degree about if I ever even been with anybody. So I tried to think of somebody who I might want to sleep with, like for real, so I could make the lie believable, but the only person I could think of was you. And that's why I told her that story. So, yeah. Wanna fuck?" Sam thought about everything she said, and then considered her proposal. "No," he said. "Don't worry. I'm not that drunk right now. I was exaggerating. I only wound up having three drinks. If you're saying no because you think I'm too drunk, don't worry about that. I'm just a little tipsy." "It's not that. It's just that I don't wanna fuck." "With me? You don't wanna fuck because you don't want me?" "I don't wanna fuck because fucking is gross. I've read a thousand porn stories and every single one of them grossed me out, except for maybe three or four where there was actually some sort of connection between the characters. They weren't just plastic mannequins with a name and measurements, thrown together so that there was somebody to cum on and somebody to shoot it. Those stories are so lame. But the more I thought about it, I realize that it's kinda gross when that happens in real life too. And I don't want my first time to be like that—a cheap, meaningless fuck—any more than I wanna fuck an academic prostitute, just so she can cheat off me on an exam. I'm not cheap. Sex with me shouldn't be cheap either. Maybe that makes me a nerd, or a fag, or a pussy, or whatever, but I don't care. And if I have sex with you, it's gonna because there's nothing you want more in the world than to-" As you can imagine, she swept over to his side of the couch and was kissing him before he could even finish the sentence. She moaned into it. She kissed him so desperately that she pushed him right down onto his back on the couch. The couch squeaked, as she parted her legs to straddle him. She was hot between her legs. He could feel it. She kissed him for twenty minutes. He let her. Her mouth tasted like berries and flowers and candy and life. Her tongue flipped and flicked at his like lovers wrestling playfully in the dark. When they finally broke the kiss, she looked him in the eyes. Her eyes were shining. His were dazed. "There's nothing I want more in the world. Just do me a favour, okay?" "What?" "Don't pull out a notepad in the middle of it and start making notes for your story." He grinned. She kissed him again. Then they were undressing, and she kissed each newly exposed area of skin. His hands explored her as well. Her shirt came off and she shrugged her bra off her shoulders. He looked first, and then reached up to touch. Her breasts felt heavy. Heavier than he imagined they would be. They were real. The skin was soft to the touch, except for her nipples. Her nipples were firm. Her breasts jiggled as he massaged them. She took one of his hands in hers and sucked on his finger, wetting it, and then she guided his hand down, and rubbed that wetness onto her nipple. It was her right nipple. It was pink, almost red. And it was standing up like a little pet that wanted attention. His finger swirled some more. Then she was kissing him again. He felt her breasts on his chest, one wet and cool, one dry and warm. He broke the kiss and bowed his face down. She brought her chest up and he caught the dry nipple in his kiss. She shivered. He kissed and sucked the pretty thing until she whimpered with some sweet ache that only she could feel. His hands slid down her waist and he placed them onto her bottom. It was round and soft like her breasts, but it was gyrating above him. She pulled him up off the couch and slid his unbuttoned shirt off his arms. Then they were both naked from the waist up. She bowed, kissing his chest, licking at his nipples, caressing him all over with her finger tips. He realized how nice that felt so he did the same thing to her. And then she slid off of his pelvis and sat upon his thighs. Her fingers unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. She was looking into his eyes, and then down at his pants. She slid a hand inside and he felt her soft, cool hands touch him for the first time. He was hard. She stroked at him with her fingertips, the parts of him she could reach anyway. And then she pulled her hand out and used both hands to tug his pants down. She had to rise off of him to do it. She got right off the couch and pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles. He tried to kick them off but he could not. She took one cuff and pulled his pants off of his right ankle. She left them on the left leg. Then her attention went back to his erection. She took hold of it and began stroking at it with her hands, adoring it with her eyes. It was six inches, he knew. It was thick as a banana. She stroked at it, and then played curiously with the little dribble of cum that oozed from its tip. Then she was taking her own pants off. Then she was straddling him again. And then she was kissing him again and he was massaging her chest with his hands. They were completely naked now, except for the pants still attached to one of his ankles. He was lost in the kiss for a moment, but only for a moment. The next thing he knew there was wetness, sliding against his erection. It was the sweetest tickle he'd ever experienced in his entire life. It was soft, wet, warm, and adoring. And then he felt her fingers on his erection once more. He realized he was being aimed. He sucked in a gasp of breath and then he felt that sweetness beyond words envelope the end of him. And now it was bobbing and squeezing ever so gently up and down and in little circles, wetting him with its delicious pleasures. And then all he felt was the sweet, wonderful, wet sliding squeeze, dropping down and down and down until her bottom touched his thighs and her pubic bone kissed his. It was the most exquisitely sweet pleasure he'd ever known and he doubted he would ever find the words to describe it, so he decided he wouldn't even bother. There were other things he could describe. Like how her hands were braced against his chest, using him for support as she began slowly, carefully rotating the wet heaven of her delicious squeeze upon him. He could describe the way she talked without even saying a word, how her little snatches of breath and gasps of delight told him she felt just as much pleasure as he did. He could describe how the trembling of her lower body as she moved on him betrayed something that was hesitant, strained perhaps, but braving the strain for the pleasure's sake, for both must have been experienced at the same time. She was small, and the stretching he was causing inside her was both beautiful and tense at the same time. He could describe her eyes. How they were locked onto his in the first minute or so of their deepest sexual connection. Her eyes were blue and shining, like a summer sky. She gazed at him with a look that held no revulsion at all, like she wasn't even seeing him. Not the person other women had looked at anyway. She was seeing something secret, something only she knew, that she'd found like a treasure and had stored it away in her heart, and was now gazing at it fully and with no restraint to her adoration. And when she pressed deeper he felt new textures inside her. The slipperiness oozed up and down him like a wet sucking kiss and his pleasure was evident in his own trembles and soft moans. She swirled and rotated as though she were trying to massage him, or perhaps massage herself. Probably both. She no doubt could feel the textures of him, the hardness, the ridge of his head, sliding wetly along her walls, from the very opening of her to her deepest parts. And she was exploring these pleasures, having never felt them before either. And then she was kissing him again, after that long gaze into his eyes as she gyrated slowly upon him. She was lost between his eyes and in the pleasure of his sweetly stroking manhood, perhaps struggling to decide which was more beautiful. She finally just threw her head back in exasperation, or ecstasy maybe, and thrust her mouth down on his with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. And then he stopped her. He grabbed at her backside and pulled it to a stop and just lay in the trembling stillness as they kissed. She tried to stroke on him some more, but he held her still. "Wait..." he whispered. "Don't finish me yet..." So she waited with very little patience, stroking softly and subtly every few moments, wanting the pleasures to resume. He stopped her each time, holding her tight against him, and he discovered that he could even feel her heartbeat. Her heart was pounding hard and when he held her soft, warm body against his, he could feel her heartbeat in every little tremble she made. And when he slid his hands up her back, she shivered all over, and her delicious little squeeze tightened around him. He gasped. He slid his fingertips down her back again, and she shivered again. Her squeeze tightened again, but this time it also gave an involuntary little downward thrust, conquering him a little deeper. This sent fresh spasms of pre-orgasmic pleasure through him, and so he pulled right out of her, lifting her bottom until her squeeze slid off the tip of him and released him to slap wetly onto his own belly. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Let me..." Then he was turning her to lay her on her back. She was spreading wide to welcome him back into her, if he so fancied. He kissed her first for a minute more, but they soon found that her desire for his thick hot stretch inside her was stronger than his desire to resist. She wriggled and wiggled beneath him, searching for the tip of him without the help of her hands, and when she found it, she tried to thrust herself down onto it. She was too tight however, and the wetness on his cock caused him to slip upwards across her belly again. So she tried again, and then again. And he discovered a new joy of sex he never would have imagined simply from reading about it. The joy of being wanted, desired, lusted after was a delirious intoxication to his brain, and he began playfully avoiding her conquest of him. She wriggled and wiggled, searching for him, and when she found the end of him with the oozing little opening of her innermost secrets, he shifted sideways, and her downward thrust found no penetration. "You really want me," he said, smiling down at her. She nodded eagerly, looking almost frightened beneath him. She was so very pretty. "Please!" she panted. "I wanna feel you inside. I love the feel. So big..." He gave no reply, but when she quested after his manhood again, and found it with her entrance, he let her thrust herself down onto it, and he even stiffened his erection with an internal exertion to help her aim, and her motion swallowed him up into the pleasure of her sweetly fluttering squeeze once more. Then there was a new pleasure in their love-making, a secret only lovers know that mere stories never tell. He discovered that being on top of her, with her naked body offered up so willingly and freely, spread before him, welcoming him inside her, adoring him—it made him feel complete. He looked down at her and saw how small and feminine and pretty she was. The look on her face was a combination of fear, and surprise, and ecstasy that changed with every motion. Every move was sacred. Every stroke was adventure. Every tremble and sigh was an ocean of discovery. He dropped down onto her to kiss her, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, crossing her feet above his backside. He was inside her and could still kiss her. She was perfect. It was like she was made to fit him exactly. He thrust deeper and tongued at her kiss at the same time. She answered his in return and met his thrust with a shivering little swirl. His scrotum slid against a fold of his shirt that had been trapped beneath her and even that tickled. He stroked slowly, reveling in every sensation. Her hands slid up and down his back, and when he paused to resist his orgasm, her hands slid down to his butt and coaxed him on. "Oh, please don't stop. Every little move you make inside me feels so beautiful. Everything flutters and shivers and tingles like two million butterflies bursting into a rainbow and swimming around and around into a spiral that tickles and tingles and makes me want it more, deeper, harder. And when you stop those feelings stop too. Don't ever stop. Oh, please, Sam! I love you. Don't ever stop." And so he resumed, but slowly. He wanted her to have those tickles and tingles. He wanted nothing but her ecstasy, as much as his own. So he stoked at her, ever so slowly, but steadily, never pausing. And she responded with swirls and shivers of her own, rocking her pelvis up and down and around and around, absorbing his strokes into the deepest parts of her. Her every move tickled his erection so prettily. Her eagerness to please him and feel pleasures of his own made her thrust spasmodically upward now and then and he had to stop altogether, or risk the ending of such bliss. "It's so big! The tickles ... Oh, so big. Don't you feel it? Everything's so ... big inside me!" And she squeezed hard on him, as though trying to wake him from a sleep, and when he stroked into that hot, slippery little clench, the pleasure was more intense than anything he'd felt so far, and his orgasm could be restrained no longer. He gave up his resistance and gave her several quick, hard, extra deep thrusts, one, two, three, four, and he was coming. He thrust and groaned, and tensed in every place, and for a moment, he was actually fucking her in his delirium, instead of the sweet pretty love-making. Apparently she liked it hard and fast like that all of the sudden. She squealed beneath him and fucked him right back. Then she too was fluttering and clenching and squeezing hard on him. He felt a wet gush come out of her and everything was slipperier than it had been before. She was coming too, and her entire being seemed torn between heaven and earth, reamed with pleasure and left for dead. His final strokes slipped freely in the gushing wetness. She cried out, gripping him in a hug that seemed bent on sucking the soul right out of him. Their hearts were beating hard and fast. Their breath came in panting. Everything twitched and throbbed inside them. And the held each other tight for a long time. A long time later, he lay on her with his cheek pressed into hers and he realized they were both sweating. He moved to pull out of her but she held him with her legs. So he remained. And maybe somewhere out in the cold dark world a car was turning right somewhere, but it didn't matter. Sam was naked, holding Robin as tightly as she was holding him. "Those porn stories, they don't tell you how beautiful it is, just to lie next to the one who's given you so much pleasure you nearly died from it, and feeling her heartbeat, and her breath on your chest, and the sweat on her skin mixed with yours, and the way your feet tingle, and how peaceful you feel, and how you just wanna kiss her forever and ever and never let anything chase that beautiful smile off of her face as long as she lives. Because she's accepted you, and taken you into her very soul, you, everything you are inside and out, and she's proven to you in one perfect moment that everything inside you that you've always had doubts about is actually beautiful and worthy and adorable and sweeter than anything to her, and you just feel so alive because you finally feel okay with just being you. The stories don't tell you that part." "I think you're gonna win that contest," she told him. "Why do you say that?" "Because you're a beautiful writer, with a beautiful soul, and I plan to give you so much to write about in the next couple days that you won't even be able to explain it all." And she did too. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2011-05-25 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------