My teen years were full of guiltless hyper-sexuality and selfish yet un-self conscious fucking. The majority of my adolescent partners were lewd punk boys who acted detached in my presence when in public but were alternately whiney/pushy when the opportunity to fingerfuck me in a closet appeared, or morbid artsy types who prefered to be seduced and then wrote odes to your "milky beauty swallowing them whole" on lined notebook paper stuffed into your locker and illustrated with bats and ankhs and Echo & the Bunnymen lyrics. All these boys were beautiful in different degrees, leaving me to feel the need to pleasure them in dazzling ways, to be the "one" they remembered while jacking off daysweeksmonthsyears later... to be whispered about in the school halls or persuded in the underage accepting dive bars. I was an aggressive soul sucker, devourer of purity and swallower of cum.
In my late teens, a particular incident or two involving less than my standard of attractiveness lead me to the realization that I didn't have to use as much wile on ugly men, neurotic men or older men as the effort of attaining a courteasan artistry as with my previous handsome boys. Such men seemed overjoyed that I'd allow a cheap date and a trip back to their meager surroundings to inevitably end up on the squeaking bedsprings, dick deep inside with my full participation. The fortunate reality was that I could drop my seductress/goddess act and concentrate on my own pleasure as he spread my slick labia with one hand and slipped his eager yet untrained tongue over the hollow slit, focusing undue attention on my hard clit until I'd firmly reposition his head to lick repeatively from my ass to my clit until the throbbing became too much and I'd whimper huskily for penetration, the words forgotten or unclear but the message understood and complied to immediately... except for one homely 20-something named Jeff ( I think).
Jeff looked like a young John Lovitz, was a student of something forgetten at Houston Baptist University and a model pity fuck. I had discovered the concept of personals in the alternative weekly paper and sent in my own and Jeff wrote me, sans photo. We met at a Bennigans's and, upon seeing him, I wished that I'd had made a back up plan yet I didn't turn down dinner and a trip back to his clean yet personality deprived apartment. At some point, I allowed him to touch me despite my near repulsion with his looks and boring fucking essence. Jeff was suprisingly deft at foreplay, caressing and kissing and unbuttoning without shaking fingers or unsubtle requests for having his dick sucked right away. Instead, he slowly undressed me and massaged everything, not just the sticky moist supple parts so well that I could ignore his intermittent bragging on how flawless his orgasmic fucking technique was. I kept my eyes shut and ignored his nasal voice, focusing exclusively on his fingers drilling and twisting inside my increasingly damp cunt, my toes curling and uncurling in anticipation, teeth hard on my nipples and the bassline drone of Depeche Mode.
He had an average sized cock, not too long or thick or exceptional in anyway except, by the grace of some sympathetic god, his screwing ability was exquisite. After full foreplay of body rubbing and sucking and waiting until I began pulling at his head or arms in an attempt to have him enter me most quickly lest my pussy slow its upward throbbing spiral of orgasmic fury, he'd pull a pillow under my ass and kneel with his cock in his hand, pressing measuredly against my clit and circling the outside of my slit, pausing at the base of taut skin between my vag and my asshole, causing great uncertainty over which orifice he was going to ram into at any second-- my being so achingly willing at that point to accept any form of penetration with a gratifying trembling moist reception. He'd ease his mediocre sized cock in an inch or so, the first delicious contact of flesh into flesh sending me into shivering, grappling thralls of animalistic pleasure, deep moaning and tugging at his waist and hips to get the bed thumping action going. He never gave in very quickly, consistantly teasing me and promising what a fabulous fuck I was about to recieve, more as a way to boost his own ego than to raise my hopes, surely, as I know he noticed how alienated I was from him, even during the act of putting his dick in me. He'd often request,"Open your eyes", which I'd comply with briefly only when getting an immediate deep dicking was at stake. After several throbbing, blue balled minutes of being dick teased, he'd slip into my positively dripping pussy to the hilt, half sitting up with the pillow lifting my hips to full penetration depth and absolutely goddamn delicious clit rubbing level. Within two minutes or less of his rhythmic press-pump-pause-press-pump, my huffing and panting and catlike yowling would go silent as my coming was unstoppable and it was only me and my rumbling tense clit, spilling over into a spasmic wave of jerking tubular muscle with Jeff as nothing more than a sentient provider of pleasure, although I hardly even bothered with his being sentient or even present once the ferverant throbbing tension took hold, and after the tightening and releasing of my vag faded into a dull ache I would push him away and out with a slickness and a *squish* *pop* and roll over, his wishy-washy disappointment in my lack of concern over his release blocked out by Violator blasting within arms reach as I turned my satisfied back to his ugly mug and pathetic being and clueless cock and fell asleep.
I slept with him for several months until someone more worthy of taking out in public came along, or my army fiance' came back on leave, or I just grew tired of making an effort of disguising my lust as an actual interest in him as anything beyond an extension of my lubed masturbatory fingers or a fleshy bullet vibrator. At the end, I'd enter his apt, go directly to the bedroom, put on Violator and lay waiting with a pillow under my ass, legs spread and impatient as I endured his useless defiance over being used as a fuck toy. All the while his mouth bleated, his cock told the truth.
When I hear "World in My Eyes", I still get a stabbing throb and tightening in my naughty parts. Thank you Jeff, you sad lurching mismatched clothing loud-mouthed magic dicked lug.