How Many Times Is The First Time?
written by:
Naughty Miranda

Richard wasn't a total loser, but he wasn't going to win any awards for the hottest guy in the office, either. I thought he was cute the first time I saw him, though, and we were going out for after-work drinks within a few days of meeting - by the water cooler, of course. I think there's a law against co-workers meeting any place else.

First it was just a quick beer before we caught our buses; then a quick meal before a night at the movies. But things never advanced behind holding hands on the way to the bus stop, and a quick peck goodnight before we went our separate ways. Which, as most of my friends were quick to remind me, seemed a remarkably low-key kind of arrangement. "You're slipping, Chrissie," Lisa laughed when I told her how I was spending my evenings. "Either that, or you've bought a new fancy vibrator."

In fact, it wasn't either. Richard was just so easy to get along with, that it really didn't seem to matter whether we ever went any further. Occasionally we'd discuss past relationships, and agreed that we were both better off out of them, and though he signed my Christmas card with love and some xxxxs, he could have sent the same card to an aging aunt for all the affection it exuded. There again, the one I sent him wasn't much better. So, we were friends who liked a quick cuddle with each other, and that was it.

I trusted him, as well. One morning I locked myself out of my apartment. It was my own stupidity, as these things usually are - waking late and racing out, I grabbed my purse and slammed the front door, before realizing my keys were still on the dressing table. After half-an-hour spent fruitlessly trying to break back into my own home, and another hour waiting for the landlord to arrive with a spare set, I wound up blowing the rest of the morning getting my own duplicates cut, then wondering who to give them to. Richard was simply the most obvious choice - if I was going to lock myself out again, at least I'd know there was another key at work.

Time passed. We were still going out three or four times a week, still pecking goodnight at the bus stop. One morning, though, I awoke from a deep sleep to hear him "hallo-ing" from the kitchen. More than a little puzzled, I pulled on a robe and padded out there. "What...."

"Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. This time I locked myself out!" He'd run out to buy some milk and a paper - and the same thing. Slammed the doors, forgot his keys, and... here he was. "Well, it was either go to the coffee shop and drink my first cup with a load of strangers, or come round here and have it with you." And then he stopped. "Uh... does that happen every morning, or are you just very pleased to see me?"

I glanced down to where his eyes were resting. My robe was securely tied at the waist. But, in my haste to look decent, I'd not even thought to pull it as tight at the top and, not only were my breasts hanging free, but my nipples were standing out like doorknobs.

How do you respond to something like that? "Of course I'm pleased to see you - come to mama for some breakfast"? No, definitely not that. But when I tried to deliver a witty reply, there were none to be found, just a murmured "oops" and a hasty attempt to cover myself up as I returned to the bedroom to throw on whatever clothes were closest to hand. The kettle was boiling by the time I got back. Crisis averted.

Or was it? Two or three times during the day, I caught Richard glancing over at me with what looked like a faint smile playing about his lips; and two or three times, too, I felt a stirring that I'd not experienced since we first started dating, and the possibility of spending a night with him had actually seemed realistic. The question was, should I make the first move? Or should I simply hope that he did? Decisions, decisions....

A normal evening passed between us - a drink, a meal, a walk around the stores. Standing at the bus stop, though, he suddenly let slip an almost violent "oh, shit."

"What?"

"I've only gone and forgotten my keys again. They're still in my fucking desk."

I looked at my watch - heaven knows why; the office locked up when we left. There'd be no-one there till morning. "What are you going to do?"

"Oh, I don't know." He sighed loudly. "How comfortable's your couch?"

"Okay, I guess... no, it's fine. It's yours. Come on. You can even have another cup of coffee."

All the way home on the bus, my mind was racing. Did he deliberately forget his keys? Did he really want to sleep on the couch? Should I offer him the bed and take the couch myself? I hoped not - I was lying when I said it was fine. There were more lumps in that thing than a vat of cottage cheese. Which meant the smartest, kindest solution would be for us both to... yes, but I didn't even want to think about that right now. He'd caught an eyeful of my tits; so what? I bet if it had been me barging into his apartment first thing in the morning, he'd have had more than a doorknob standing stiffly to attention.

The bus stopped and we walked the few yards to my apartment. At the door, as I dug into my purse for my keys, his arm brushed my breast. No big deal, I'm sure that wasn't the first time he'd done it - he was always standing aside to let me go first. But this time, I noticed, and from his sudden intake of breath, so did he. He did it again once we were inside, as he helped me off with my coat. Clumsier, this time, though; "accidentally on purpose," but this time he didn't let on that he'd even noticed. I wonder....

I put the kettle on. "Coffee, this late?" he asked. "Anyone would think you were trying to keep me awake."

"Well..." I admitted I'd not been strictly truthful about the couch; and he admitted he'd not been truthful about wanting to sleep on it. "I saw that bed of yours. There's plenty of room for us both in there. You won't even notice I'm there."

"Really?" I asked, laughing. And thinking back to the thought that crossed my mind that morning, "what about when you first wake up, then? Nothing noticeable there?" He looked puzzled; I looked down, straight towards his lap. And what do you know - there was something there, already, bulging against the thin fabric of his trousers.

We stood motionless for a moment, and then suddenly he was in my arms, his mouth locked against mine and his entire body pressed tight against me. I just about remembered to switch the kettle off again before we dragged one another into the bedroom and, to be brutally frank, fucked each other's brains out, so hard and so fast that it was over almost as soon as it started. It was also several minutes before either of could speak again.

"You don't know how many times I've dreamed of that," I whispered, holding him close to me.

"You don't know how many times I've dreamed of a lot of things," he smiled, his breath and then his tongue warm on one of my nipples. I stroked his hair as he closed his lips around my breast, then let out a small groan as he shifted slightly, and began tracing his tongue down my stomach.

He moved slowly, almost distractedly. Light kisses, soft bites, gentle nuzzles. I felt his tongue flick inside my belly button, then move sideways and linger gently on my side. His body, too, was in barely perceptible motion, shifting his weight, maneuvering around. Turning my head, I could see his cock already begin stiffening again, its tip still slick from our love-making. I wondered what he tasted like, hot and sticky, growing harder in my mouth, but I resisted the temptation. Despite what you might have read elsewhere, not every guy gets off on having his dick sucked so quickly after cumming. Apparently the nerve ends need a while to settle down. I decided to play that one by ear and, almost as if he'd read my mind, Richard moved again and the view was gone.

His mouth was lower now, kissing my stomach, just inches away from my still flooded pussy. He showed no sign of being interested in that, though; one moment he was close enough that a simple twitch would have jarred my clit, the next he was softly biting the top of my leg. Then, as his hand gently cupped my ass, he stopped and looked up at me.

"You're probably going to think I'm an absolute idiot, but - what do I do now?"

"Nothing... you're doing fine," I whispered, but he didn't move.

"No, I mean..." his fingers lay flat on my pussy lips. "I've never..."

Again his voice trailed away, and I suddenly understood. "Whatever you want... whatever you think will feel good - for both of us."

I racked my brain for the right words. How do you explain to someone how to lick your cunt? "You run your tongue all around, up and down, in and out, and then you take that little clitoris and suck it down your throat...." No. I tried to play it cool. "Kiss me again like you were doing, but this time don't cover so much ground"

"Like this?" His lips grazed me, lingered for a moment, then retreated. "Yeah, but a little harder, and a little longer. And use your fingers."

"Like this?" Again I felt his lips there, exactly as I said; a little harder and a little longer, while two fingers gingerly pried me open. "That's it. Now keep doing that for a moment. See what I taste like, use your tongue a little." Obediently - that's the only word for it - he began sliding his mouth gently around, occasionally flicking around my clitoris, but always stopping just short of it.

More fingers. Softly caressing, then rubbing, harsh but delicate. I could feel my cunt lips being opened further, gently, tantalizingly, painstakingly unfolding me, stroking, then pulling me apart so that his tongue could squirrel deep inside me. I wrapped my legs around his back, my own hands desperately trying to guide his mouth to where I most wanted to feel him - a lick, a suck, even his hot breath. But he was sly, or maybe just shy.

It seemed minutes before his tongue began to roam more freely. "Oh God, please..."; I let go of him, slid my hand between his face and my pussy, begging his tongue to drift up to the spot where my fingertip lay. "I'm so close...." And his tongue finally homed in on me, swirling slowly at first, but faster and faster. Lips seeking, clutching, slurping.

"That's wonderful. Don't stop."

My hips began to move of their own accord, matching the movements between my legs with a languorous grind. It was ecstasy, it was heavenly. I turned my head a little. His cock was harder now; I wanted it more than ever, I wanted to return every delicious thrill that he was giving me... but not yet. Not while he was filling me with such unbelievable, unimaginable, unfathomable pleasure.

I squirmed myself into a half-seated position, half-afraid that he'd move away from that magical spot, but he didn't. His fingers were driving hard inside me now; they slipped out, and I gasped as one, greased to perfection, forced its way into my ass-hole, without missing a stroke. I wondered if he was aware - if he really was as inexperienced as he said... yes, he knew, for now his other hand had moved over, and two fresh fingers were pounding in and out of me, as the licking subsided and an entirely new sensation swept through me.

"Yes, suck me!" It sounded so strange for those words to spill from my mouth - normally, I only ever hear them. But Richard didn't bat an eyelid as the grip of his lips tightened and, as he sucked my flesh into his mouth, my clit felt as though it could burst. I was cumming, I could feel it gathering speed, an express train hurtling down the hill with no brakes, plowing into the pit of my stomach, exploding into a thousand shards of light and sound and electrical sparks, and another one right on top of it... okay, you have to stop now, just for a moment, I need to breathe, I need to laugh, I need to rest, I need to pause for just one second to scoop up all the pieces of my body that have flown across the room, and are now lying in great, uncontrollably quivering heaps of jelly, each one undergoing its own succession of shattering, battering, clattering cum-fests.

But he didn't stop, he just kept on sucking and, as my body tensed itself once again, I knew that this time, I wasn't simply going to cum. I was going to squirt. I could already feel that tell-tale prickling that comes from so deep inside that, the first time it happened, I thought I was going to pee.

My hands and feet were numbing... I wondered - should I warn him? Much as I would have loved to do it, I wasn't sure if he would appreciate a full mouthful of hot pussy juice, this early in his apprenticeship. But, no sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I almost lost it altogether, as his sucking ceased and his tongue was dancing wildly again. And then it happened.

Everything was in slow motion. His head jerked back, but only for a second... I could see my wetness smeared over his face, and then he was flat on his back and I was towering over him, my cunt just inches from his lips, while a stream of clear liquid jetted out of my pussy and splashed over him, into his mouth, across his chin, his cheeks, his hair.

He lay there, not moving; I hung over him, my arms weak against the wall, cradling my forehead as I gazed down. "Jesus, that was amazing," I breathed. And then, as a thought flashed across my mind, "are you sure that was your first time?"

Richard laughed out loud. "Well, I must admit that's the first time I've ever got quite so wet. But, apart from that, it's always the first time with somebody new. "The trick is, to make sure that it always remains the first time as well. Now, hadn't you better ask me exactly how I'd like you to suck me? It's your first time as well, you know."

I hope you enjoyed this story - please write and let me know. I love hearing from you.