AN EROTIC STORY HOSTED BY IMPREGNORIUM.NET

STORY TITLE Test Driving
AUTHOR Jonathan P
CODES MF, Unsafe, Impreg?, True
DATE ADDED 4th September, 2007
AUTHOR EMAIL
[email protected]
 

DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

     


I wrote an earlier story about my long-ago sophomore year at college "Jonathan's Term Project." Here is a story from my junior year.

As I described in that earlier story, my first intercourse experiences were always bareback, thanks to the Pill, and after that I was hooked. I loved the primal flesh-to-flesh physical sensations and the emotional and psychological connection of it, especially that climactic explosive delivery of my semen inside her most intimate body part. My second serious girlfriend, who I named the "Term Project," was initially a steadfast virgin, and our tedious babysteps to intercourse involved guilt, anxiety, contraceptive foam, and more anxiety. Sex with her was also bareback, although #2's angst about intercourse was a major distraction.

Girlfriend #3 happened in a distant city where I was working at a summer job. She too was a virgin, although without carrying the guilt of girlfriend #2, and once again sex was bareback, but we should have paid more attention to contraception. That's a story for another day.

Back at school for the start of my junior year, I found myself at a mixer "“ one of those casual events with a DJ and vinyl records and a dance floor, where people arrive solo and try to meet new friends. Across the room I saw a cute girl, standing all alone. That seemed promising. We made eye contact, I approached her, and soon we were dancing. It was fast dance music at first and we chatted between songs, neither of us having any interest in dancing with anyone else that night. As the evening wore on the DJ inserted more and more slow music, and the quieter music and closer physical proximity meant we could talk while we were dancing.

Her name was Joyce. Medium height, a 19-year-old's appealing body with some shape to it, short brown hair and brown, expressive eyes. We connected comfortably, both verbally and physically. Joyce was the chatty type. She'd just arrived as a transfer student, her parents having pressured her to switch from a small Boston-area college to this much larger Midwestern university where they themselves had attended. Joyce asked me endless questions about the university and what it was like living in this college town.

And during the slow dances, with her arms wrapped around my neck and my arms around her back, her face resting against my shoulder and our bodies pressed against each other, Joyce opened up to me in a surprisingly candid way. She told me about her recent college experiences and her anxieties about transferring to a larger, presumably more academically difficult school. I mostly just listened to her. My mind was also occupied by the feel of her breasts against my chest and a delicate floral scent floating from her hair into my nose.

And she talked about her boyfriend "Ex-boyfriend," she corrected herself" whom she'd met one weekend in Boston, and a month later traveled to the University of New Hampshire to spent the weekend with him. "That's where I lost my virginity," she told me, matter-of-factly. "We didn't leave his room all weekend. We went through a -lot- of rubbers."

Now she had my full attention. My penis stood at attention, too. Joyce was nothing like any of my three previous girlfriends, all virgins and all hesitant or anxious about sex to one degree or another. And here she was, with someone she'd met less than two hours before, calmly chit-chatting details about her sex life while her belly pressed against the lump of my erection.

Near the end of the evening, Joyce asked one more intriguing question. "Do you know where can I get a prescription for the Pill?" Being the helpful type, I suggested she make an appointment at the on-campus Student Health Service, which was known to prescribe the Pill to any woman who asked for it. Now my interest was definitely piqued. Not only did Joyce have a past, seemingly favorable history of sexual activity, and not only was she indicating a clear intent of upcoming sexual activity (and probably safely bareback!), but here she was, giving me a broad hint that her future sexual activity may well include me!

At the end of the evening, I walked her to her dorm. She'd arrived at school too late to find an apartment. In those days it was one of those all-female dorms with a sternly glaring house mother in the lobby, so all we managed was a long kiss, an exchange of phone numbers, and a promise to get together Really Soon.

Over the following few weeks Joyce and I saw each other regularly. Study dates in the library, a movie or two, walking together on campus and talking. She occasionally visited the apartment I shared with three roommates "“ four guys in two bedrooms. All in all, we didn't have privacy for more than a few minutes of heavy making out. And that first evening's conversations about sex never repeated itself. I just rolled with it and decided to let things progress at her pace.

And progress they did. One afternoon Joyce telephoned me at my apartment. We had a brief exchange, then she got to the point. "Remember that prescription I wanted?" Well sure I remembered. "I got them. What do you say we give them a test drive? You can take me for a spin!"

Do chickens have beaks?

A half hour later Joyce was at my apartment door, and five minutes after that we were making out on my bed, thanks to a locked door and a roommate I knew was going to be in classes for the rest of the afternoon. I peeled off her clothing, rather eagerly as I recall, and quickly shucked my own clothes, and then proceeded on a full tour of her body. A sensitive neck. Lush red lipstick. Firm B-cup breasts with perky pink nipples. Freckles too numerous to count. A ticklish tummy. A round ass, smooth legs, rich red toenails, and a lovely thatch of dark brown pubic hair "“ it was uncommon in those days for a woman to shave her muff. And thick, meaty outer labia, ever so sweetly blossoming open and exposing a hint of crimson inner labia.

My mouth was soon between her legs, savoring her scent and taste and exploring every succulent nook and cranny and fold and ridge, every one of her Pretty Little Pink Parts. Her juices were flowing, her inner labia slick and fattened and split open, her clit jutting out and begging to be licked and sucked. The fuck-me smell of her sex was driving me insane. I dove in, Joyce's knees raised high and spread wide, and her hands held my head and she gasped and moaned and murmured little encouragements and rocked her hips to match the rhythm of my licks.

I settled in for the long haul. I was enjoying how Joyce was getting more and more excited, and my goal was to try to get her to climax "“ ladies first! "“ before I got inside her and lasted who knows how long. Neither of my first two girlfriends had been orgasmic, despite my best [enthusiastic and diligent, albeit inexperienced] efforts, and girlfriend #3 had only been occasionally orgasmic, but only from oral.

But Joyce interrupted my efforts with an upward tug. "C'mere," she told me, "I want you inside me." Well that was the point of the test drive, wasn't it? Who was I to say no? I moved up on top of her. I was hard as a rock, and with no effort at all my cock homed in like a heat-seeking missile. I brushed my shaft against her pussylips to get myself all slickery, centered on her entrance, and pushed inward. Her opening had a distinct circle of muscle that resisted my mushroom-shaped cockhead for a fraction of a second, then my cockhead popped in and she gasped and began to pant and squirm beneath me. That only got me harder.

Deeper and deeper, I just slid in, feeling that muscle ring deliciously snugged around my cock, feeling my shaft sink into her silky warmth, until I was completely buried inside her creamy heaven, her kegels doing those tender squeezes around the base of my shaft as my cockhead nestled into the upper reaches of her juicy snatch. I looked down to the sight of my shaft splitting those chubby outer labia and disappearing inside the magic of her body. My cock gave an involuntary pulse, and her snug little snatch responded with another nibble.

"Oh my God, you are so hard," she murmured, maneuvering her hips to adjust herself around my stiffness. I knew it wasn't going to take long before we really needed those Pills to be working.

I was overwhelmed with pleasure sensations. Joyce's legs hooked together just above my ass, and I gave her my cock with slow, steady, full-length strokes. She met my steady in-and-outs with her own rocking hips, our eyes locked, our bodies moving together in a mutual dance. Joyce was unlike any of my previous lovers. She seemed more connected with me, seemed to be having more fun, and seemed more aroused. And her hips, those actively upward thrusting hips that met my downstrokes, it was like her vagina was engulfing me, eagerly rushing forward to grab my cock and hold onto it.

And the biggest revelation to me, the biggest delight of this first fuck, was how Joyce's arousal just steadily. My previous lovers would reach a plateau and just get stuck there. But with Joyce there was no plateaus, no pauses. Missionary position gives me control over the pacing, and I used it to play with her arousal "“ play with mine, too "“ gradually increasing the tempo and firmness of my thrusts, notching up faster and harder, and enjoying how her excitement just kept ratcheting up higher and higher to match mine.

Joyce was panting, her belly quivering, and she seemed as close as I was, and so I lit my personal orgasmic fuse and tried to finish us both off together. My deep, pelvic-bumping final thrusts took her over the edge. Joyce's head arched back into the mattress, her face scrunched up into an agony of pure pleasure, and I experienced my first primal thrill of fucking my partner to an orgasm. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth and held her breath in a silent scream and just froze like that for few seconds. Then she exhaled a loud guttural cry, stared at me with wild eyes and hyperventilated for a second or two, then she held her breath again and her eyelids dipped to half mast and she rose to another peak.

Somewhere about then my own orgasm exploded. I remember locking eyes with hers, my hips in one final flurry of straining have-to-get-another-inch-IN-there strokes, and watching her face study mine with what seemed like both amazement and self-satisfaction as I gave her and gave myself a final burying driving push of my steel-hard cock and held myself there, self-absorbed in my initial pleasure spasm, quickly followed by the first long, juicy spurt. At that, her eyes were opened wide and her kegels gave my cock a long, clenching squeeze. Spurt number two joined number one.

I struggled to break the paralysis and restart my thrusting in that instinctive search for friction and reminding myself of how her vaginal walls were so wonderfully wrapped around my shaft and how much I just wanted to fuck her and never stop. Spurt three, spurt four, spurt five. In my mind's eye I could see my cock inside her pink, my white juices splashing against her cervix, filling her up with thick ropes of white.

I slowed, my heart pounding. My forehead was moist with sweat. Joyce's fingers slid around on my moist back. "Amazing" was all I could manage to say. Joyce said nothing. She pulled my head closer and we kissed. Her tongue was busy in my mouth. Her kegels were still giving little embracing grips around my cock.

When my soft cock slipped out, I kept my body hovered above her, then sat back on my heels. Her pussy was an open red gash, glistening with her juices and mine. Joyce bit down on her lower lip and reach a hand between her legs, dipping into the juices, spreading them around her labia and her clit. I was mesmerized by her languid fingers, watching for the first time a woman playing with herself. I glanced at her face. Her eyes were closed, her face with a dreamy expression. "You got me all wet," she whispered. "So creamy."

"Is that okay?"

"It's very okay."

Joyce and I went on like that for a couple of months. Sometimes five times a week, sometimes once, we'd wind up in bed together, fucking like rabbits. Most of the time it was in my bed, although a couple of times we managed an approved afternoon "study date" in her one-person dorm room, where she tried really, really hard to climax silently. In my bed she was noisier, more active, and more uninhibited. We tried different positions, of course, but mostly she (and I) preferred missionary. "I love lying there and feeling fucked and having you fill me up," she told me. Sometimes she'd climax first and that would trigger mine, sometimes mine would trigger hers. But she always climaxed at least once, and I always left her oozing.

Unfortunately, it all came to a quick end one cold December day during finals. I suggested she come over for a quick tension release, and when she showed up and we began to play around, she told me her period had just started and she felt it would be too messy. My brain did some quick arithmetic. It was just three weeks after her previous period. When I asked her about the irregularity "“ the Pill should have made her cycle like clockwork - her response was evasive, seemingly even guilty.

I kept pressing her, and she finally confessed that she'd only taken the Pill for that first month. It had made her feel nauseous, so she'd stopped taking it. That meant we'd been fucking bareback for two months without contraception. She'd been halfheartedly using the Rhythm Method to avoid intercourse when she thought she was ovulating, but her periods were irregular and she was never sure about the timing. I panicked and didn't take the news well "“ not wanting a pregnant girlfriend midway through college, and being alarmed at her unilateral, secret decision to stop taking the Pill.

Why, I asked, didn't you tell me? Because, she replied, I loved feeling you cum inside me. I loved the sexy feeling, the warmth of it. I loved feeling your cum leaking out for the rest of the day. And she told me she hated school and wouldn't mind getting pregnant. Now I was the one with the angst.

Alas, the trust and the magic was gone, and we went our separate ways at Christmas Break. Joyce never returned to school in January, and I never heard from her again.