So Kathy was 18.
We had met a while back; months ago, actually. I don’t exactly remember who introduced themselves to whom, but one way or another we met, VIA Instant Messages of all things.
Kathy was a freshman in college. She still lived with her parents, attending BU to save money rather than going to an out of state college. She had described herself as tall, fair and thin, about 5’8, 120 lbs. She was a brunette, and very slim. Just my style, I said.
“What is it about white guys and skinny women?” she responded.
I had no idea, really, and still don’t understand to this day the reason thin ones just do it for me. And I knew she was just as she described. Oddly enough, I trusted that she was who she said she was, that her name was Kathy, that she looked how she described herself, and that she was not some overweight old man in Boise.
In fact, she lived in Boston, and I was in Georgia, so we were sufficiently far away from each other to pretty much spill our guts to the other. And we did.
We talked about men and women and music and film and sex…lots of sex. She was a lot younger than I, so we had a lot to talk about. She pumped me for information, as a representative of the dumber sex, and I enjoyed her insights into what it’s like to be a young woman just starting out in her sexual life.
Kathy was remarkably open about such things. Her underwear preferences? Thongs only. Perfect, in my book. Her breasts? Sensitive, perky, could be bigger for her taste. Perfect for mine, however. Shaved? Everyday, clean as a whistle, smooth as a baby’s bottom. Bottom? Smooth, too, from daily lotioning. And her experiences? Not much, actually, other than giving loyal head to her then-boyfriend. She gave it pretty much whenever he wanted it, and she enjoyed it as well. But she got off too, either by her man or on her own. Her orgasms were her business, and a very serious one.
In fact, she masturbated frequently, and with zest. She confided in me her first time to have an orgasm, her best way of achieving them, and what made her so horny as to want to have them.
All of this, of course, was incredible information for me, a person who collects things about other people’s sexuality like a boy does baseball cards or comic books. I loved hearing what she had to say, and let her know it. In turn, she knew how much she turned me on, whether she meant to initially or not, so she began to actually try to make me more interested. When she asked if I had bee pleasuring myself to our conversation, I told her the truth immediately, and she seemed pleased. She said she would, too.
I was amazed. I half expected her to freak out and tell me to fuck off. But she didn’t. She seemed to enjoy how much she interested me. And apparently I interested her as well.
So we started sharing in each other’s pleasure, güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri and frequently. It was almost a regular thing, meeting online, talking about the day, describing what each of us was wearing, then having mind-blowing orgasms.
After a while she finally got hold of her own digital camera, and sent me some photos. Sure enough, Kathy was very, very attractive. She had quite fair skin, which was fine with me. Her smile was bright and open, her eyes twinkling. And there were more than just photos of her face. Mixed in were photos of her in a bikini. Her body was thin but still developing, rounding, obviously still very firm. She wore little makeup. She didn’t really need it.
Still later she sent more risqué photos. They were of body parts: the flatness of her tummy, the undersides of her breasts, those same breasts in a push up bra. Best of all, there were some of her ass, her perfect, tight ass, framed spectacularly in an assortment of very cute and very tiny thongs—my favorite. I cam a lot from them, and she came—or so she said—from being turned on by my excitement for her.
We never got farther than the fantasy, however, as we were both seeing other people. She was totally faithful to her young man, other than her regular fantasies with me, and I was deeply involved with a girl I had started seeing over a year before.
Well, that all changed. The relationship I had been having was either leading to marriage or split-up, and is it turned out, marriage wasn’t to be. So we split. It was very hard for both of us. When I signed on the night my girl and I had called it quits, Kathy was sympathetic. We talked for hours, pretty much until my eyes hurt both from verging on tears as well as from staring at the damned computer screen for so long.
After a while, I was tired and distraught and ready to wrap the conversation up.
“Sorry…” she said. “I know it sucks. I wish I could help….”
“In a way, you can…” I said, hinting at the brief relief a very strong orgasm would bring to the turmoil I was going through.
“I’d be happy to. But I wish there were some other way…”
“You mean, you want me to call you?” I asked, astounded.
“No…I mean, we could meet,” she said.
I was amazed. Meet? But she had her man…and I was so much older…and…
“Relax. My guy and I are taking some time off. You need some good news. I am that good news”.
I was flabbergasted. But she was exactly right. I needed someone, and more specifically I needed Kathy.
So all the plans were made. In two week’s time, we were to meet halfway in Washington D.C. for a little Capital Holiday and—hopefully—some comfort. The weeks dragged on mercilessly. I saw my Ex every now and then. It was agonizing. Every time I did I looked forward to seeing Kathy.
In güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri the meantime, I began to get ready. I worked out twice as much. I got tested immediately, as the results usually take a few weeks to get back, and she did the same, although her liaisons had been considerably fewer. As it turned out, we were both as clean as can be, and she was on the pill regardless. It would be very intimate.
I asked Kathy for her sizes and she told them to me, and I found her some very sexy lingerie I desperately hoped she would like, as lingerie shopping is a fervent passion of mine in any romantic relationship. I would arrange to have flowers sent to the hotel we were staying at, we would sight see. It would be a hell of a weekend, hopefully for us both.
Finally the time came. It took all my willpower not to speed all the way through North Carolina and Virginia. When I got to the hotel to check in, the front desk told me she had beat me there by half an hour. All I had to do was catch the elevator to our room, 1116. I was electrified.
The elevator was so slow I nearly ditched it and ran the stairs. Luckily I kept my composure, which was good as I would have been sweaty before we had ever gotten to meet in person. I stuck to the elevator.
I knocked on the door to room 1116. The doorknob turned, and the door cracked. But no one was there to greet me. I opened it, suitcase in hand.
Kathy was there. She had run back to the bed to be ready for my grand entrance. She had obviously gotten the roses I sent to the room, as she had taken the petals and spread them all over, concentrating on the bed. She was laying across the bed, in a black lace camisole and slinky matching thong. She was smiling.
“Hi,” she said.
“Wow,” I said in return.
She motioned me over to the bed, and I eagerly complied. I sat next to her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand to me. I took it.
She grabbed it tight and pulled my face to hers.
“We’ve both thought about this for a long time,” she said, barely in a whisper, more in a purr. “We both know exactly what the other likes from our conversations. You need me and I want you. I can’t wait.”
She paused in mock dramatic fashion.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” she added.
Very soon I wasn’t. I had nearly ripped them off just so I could feel my skin against hers. I leapt next to her, kissing her, devouring her, and she massaged me all over, moaning with increasing volume. She tasted clean and fresh, her skin obviously young and supple. She was hot to the touch.
I was hard as a rock, and she immediately sought out my hardness, grabbing it firmly and jerking it up and down, feeling it throb. Its head was purple and puffy and leaking just a tiny bit of precum. She gently ran a finger over güvenilir bahis şirketleri the wet spot and then licked it. She smiled and moaned again, louder this time.
Simultaneously I was searching her entire body. I had already gotten her camisole off of her and was suckling at her incredible perky breasts with great results: she was getting hotter and her beautiful little nipples were as hard as diamonds.
My hand slid down her back as she fell on top of me. It made it to the waist band of her skimpy thong and slid into it. Her ass was cool compared to the rest of her body, but muscular and smooth as satin. Smoother than her thong, possibly! My fingers ran over her ass cheeks to her hotter and wetter pussy. From behind my hand began to massage her mound. She had obviously just recently shaved, of just started waxing.
She continued jerking my cock, rubbing it against her flat belly at the same time. We continued to kiss, and I continued to feel her pussy get wetter and wetter.
“Now,” she said, nearly growling. “I want it now. We’re both ready, just do me. I know you want me. Don’t you?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes!” was all I could muster as a reply.
She didn’t even take the thong off. She slid it to the side, exposing her soaking wet velvety pussy. She got up on her knees and positioned herself over my cock, never once letting go of it or stopping the incredible jerking motion with her hand. I could feel her wetness on the head of my cock. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore…
I was in her. She had bared down and I was in her. And she took a second to get her bearing, then she was off, without a second thought, riding my cock as if she knew how to do nothing else. She was so remarkably tight, unlike any other experience I had had, outside of anal, and as much as I liked that, this still was better. Smooth. Wet. And it was Kathy’s.
I wasn’t going to last long like this, and I told her so. The excitement and built up had been too much. I was going to cum too quickly for my taste. I wanted it to last, for the first time to be special.
“It is, just do it, fill me, do me!” she said with clinched teeth, not missing a stroke. “I’m about to cum anyway…”
That was all it took. What the hell? I thought. It’s going to be a long weekend. Plenty of time to do this again and again. Better next time.
I let everything go. I don’t think I’ve ever been harder. I swore and moaned and yelled Kathy’s name. I shot into her over and over and over again. She clinched her pussy, involuntarily as it turns out, as she was in the throes of her own orgasm. I filled her. My cum spilled out with her, mixed with her juices. She collapsed onto my chest, still spasming, still feeling my cock spurting more of myself into her waiting pussy.
We kissed. It seemed like a long time before either of us said anything.
“Well? She asked. “Feel better?”
“Yeah,” I said, “and I bet I’ll feel even better before this is all over…”
We smiled at each other, and pulled a blanket over us, rose petals and all. We slept a while before starting again…
…but it was not the end of the weekend…