Chapter 4
I could scarcely wait for that big tool to take my wet little cherry. The "operation" took place about an hour later. We left the bar and he took me to his elegant bachelor flat in an exclusive section of town.
When he undressed first himself and then me, I must confess I was anxious. Not because I was going to fuck for the first time (although I was a little apprehensive of that too), but to know whether a man could make me feel that famous voluptuousness everybody was talking about and which I had personally never felt. I looked at his body, especially at his naked exposed genitals. His cock and balls seemed huge. Was he going to shove all that up in me?
The first contacts were as pleasant as could be expected. Georges was quite an artist. He kissed me softly on the neck, on my shoulders and slowly undressed me with the delicacy of a man who seems to have done nothing else in all his life.
When I was mother naked, he took me on his knees and started working at once on my smooth ass spread warmly on his thighs. My parted buttock-cheeks gave him a big hard-on. His hands and mouth caressed my tits skillfully. Then his fingers slid down to my thighs, my tummy and loins and in between.
Eventually, he lifted me up in his sinewy arms onto the nearby bed which must have received a good deal of other naked girls.
He stood over me with his huge cock. He was quite handsome thin and lithesome, without being lean, and he had hair just where he should have it. The full extension of his stiff penis scared me.
I was a novice, and I must confess I was a little frightened, for Mother Nature had provided him with a generously proportioned instrument. The very idea that he was going to use that hot rod on me made me shudder a little. He got started placing the throbbing head between my virginal cunny lips and pushing it in deftly.
Well, it wasn't bad. He had been very gentle and, apart from a slight burning sensation and a rather painful, but short, moment, the operation was over without mishap. His hot prick was past the membrane now.
My lover -for I could call him so seemed to feel an intense pleasure, whereas I had remained quite calm and lucid, and I was astonished to see his features contracted by voluptuousness and to hear a moan of pleasure issuing from his lips as he pistoned his shaft up as far as it could go.
As for me, it had still been the same as before: I had felt a pleasant sensation while being caressed, but none of the passionate transports which my partner seemed to have experienced. His dick plowed into my tight vaginal sheath until I felt his balls slapping my bush.
Suddenly he stiffened, I felt him shudder and gasp and he came. I felt the hot wet spurts gush against the walls of my vagina. But I still had one hope, to which I clung like a drowning man to a straw: some of my girl-friends had told me that the first time they had slept with a man they had felt more pain than pleasure. Maybe that was my case.
Georges was really pleased and asked for nothing better than to fuck me again. So he did it again. He shoved his prick all the way up me. And the result was the same, minus the internal burning sensation. Once again, he ejaculated but I didn't.
He was really a good lover. After having fucked me deftly three or four times, we lay on the bed resting and smoking a cigarette. He told me, while caressing my bare breasts mechanically with his well-cared hand:
"Darling, something surprises me."
"Well, it's difficult to say, but, you see, it seems to me that while we are making love, you don't react as the other women do. You give me great pleasure but you seem to be getting only shudders out of it."
He saw that I was embarrassed.
So, he tactfully amended a little what he had said, smoothing out the rough corners:
"You mustn't be angry, darling. Your case is quite common. It's only the beginning for you. You'll be having your 'comes' later, I'm sure."
He smiled and stroked me amicably on my ass.
Well, to cut along story short, voluptuousness didn't come. At least not through his dong.
Being the stubborn type, I decided to try another male fuck partner.
My choice fell on Hans Gandora. Younger than Georges, he was only 25. And he was as hasty as Georges was gentle and slow in his preparations.
With Hans, it was a quick stripping, then a short kiss and the, without further ado, he bestrode me and he shoved his stiff pecker up my cunny. He came very quickly, I could feel his hot spurts, and then he got dressed again rapidly and, after another quick kiss he was off to a soccer match or a boxing bout. He was nuts on sports.
I heard later that women who really cared about satisfying comes should avoid keen sportsmen.
On the ring or on a football ground they no doubt achieve accomplishments of long durations, but in a twat they were quick shooters. They hardly make their presence felt and they're off and coming.
Coming back to my own experiences, I had had several lesbian affairs with girls and sex with two men and still I was unchanged. I had never felt the divine voluptuousness which, everybody said, I should have felt long ago.
I wondered if there was something radically wrong with me. Could I have a sensationless twat, or was it psychological? Was it possible that I had deep hidden guilt feelings, such as being jealous of my father's fucking my mother and wanting him to shove it into my box instead of mother's?