First Time Sex – Wicked Wednesday #5

Wicked Wednesday

Welcome to my fifth post for Rebel’s Notes‘ Wicked Wednesday, First Time Sex. You don’t have to use the prompt but I wanted the inspiration, and I thought it would be a fun challenge. The prompt for this week was:

First Time Sex

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is set by Stella Kiink. You can follow her on Twitter and read her blog.

We have all had that first time sex experience. What was your first time like? We’re you ready? Were you nervous? Do you regret it? Was it exciting and sensual and everything you hoped it would be? After the very first time you continue to experience more firsts. Your first blowjob. Your first threesome. The first time you realized the way you enjoyed sex was different than the way others enjoyed it. And somewhere in there you even experienced your first orgasm. Tell us about one of your firsts. 

 

First Time Sex

My first time sex is a very happy memory. I was 17 (almost 18), and we’d been dating for about six months. It was love. I thought he was my soul mate……part of me still thinks he was my soul mate.

We’d borrowed his dad’s car and driven to the coast, it happened to be a really warm September and we knew this beach that was out of the way, not many people knew about it. We’d been there all day; laying on a blanket talking, touching, laughing. It was one of those perfect days, we even had a BBQ right there on the beach. We stayed there until the sun got so low we struggled to find the path back up to the car. But when we got back neither of us wanted to head home, so we laid out the blanket in front of the car and settled back, looking up at the stars and talking.

Talking led to more touching and somehow without either of us making a conscious decision it was happening. We didn’t even get completely undressed. It was slow and careful, and despite what I’d heard before (and since) it didn’t hurt. In fact it felt wonderful, especially when we realised it wasn’t uncomfy for me and speeded things up.

I had this huge silly grin on my face, and we stayed there for a while before we covered ourselves up. Then we just lay there staring at the sky until the sun appeared over the horizon, lighting up the sea. We got in the car and drove down into Whitby. Getting bacon sandwiches and coffee, eating them while we watched the fishing boats unload.

There’s not a thing about that first time sex that I would change, not one single thing.

 

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Home

Home is where the heart is.

Pliny the Elder

 

For me home was never a place, home was my Dad. Wherever he was that was home, even if it wasn’t where I lived it was still home. Since he died I have been looking for that again; for somewhere (or rather someone) to call home. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not looking for a father figure, I’m just looking for someone I can trust, someone I can put my faith in, someone who will have my back no matter what.

Unfortunately my radar for the right type of guy is apparently completely borked. There have been two guys in the last three years; one of them I was with for months, and it was just after the realisation that I loved him I found out he was living with someone, and had been for years. It broke my heart. Then I found out he was telling lies about me, telling people they shouldn’t talk to me, all because he was worried I’d tell his missus (or someone he was now trying to con) the truth.

The other guy was very recently; we’d been chatting for months and finally met in person, we seemed to get along well, and had some fun, then all of a sudden he just disappeared. He closed his twitter and told me to contact him via whatsapp, then two days later he stopped replying to my messages, and was showing as having not logged in, so I’m thinking he blocked me. We’d had a conversation about people who come into our lives and then just vanish, he’d had exes do it and I had too, and we agreed if either of us wanted out of it we would just be honest. Apparently I was the only one who meant what they were promising. I was (am) hurt, and yes I cried about it but more for the potential of what might have been. It was still new and even though I kept telling myself not to get too excited I really did like him, and I felt like there was potential there for it to be something good. So the complete dismissal of me and my feelings really did hurt. It’s as if he never really saw me as a person with feelings and emotions, just someone to scratch an itch.

So the search for home continues. And if the next guy doesn’t communicate, jerks me around, and breaks my heart I might just give up altogether.

Submit

You’re standing in front of me in just your jeans, I’m almost naked, sitting on a hard wooden chair watching you carefully. My arms are wrapped around the back of the chair pushing out my chest, and your eyes move down my body; taking in the red bra and panties I bought especially for you for today, the suspender belt just a wisp of black lace and elastic holding up sheer black stockings. My feet are against the legs of the chair holding my knees apart, and a slight shiver runs through your body as your eyes continue to travel down. I’m wearing black strappy heels which show my toes, the red polish clearly visible through the stockings. As your gaze lands on my toes I wiggle them and your eyes snap back up to my face.

Holding my stare you unbuckle your belt pulling it slowly through the loops, you fold it and lay it across my lap. I drop my eyes to watch your hands as you unbutton your fly, noticing your lack of boxers, as you push your jeans down and fold them carefully before putting them on the table with your shirt. Your cock is already hard standing out and when I wiggle slightly against the chair it twitches slightly.

You stand there hands at your sides, eyes watching me, waiting. We both know the game and it’s just a matter of who breaks first. I have more in my arsenal though, after all I still have something on, and I know a quick wiggle of my toes can cause you to twitch. I need to be careful though, too much will count against me. Your move your gaze to my chest, watching the slight movement and matching my breaths. The longer your gaze is on them the more turned on I get, thinking about you kneeling down and lifting one tit out of it’s red cup, and leaning forward to take the nipple in your mouth. As I think about you sucking on them my nipples harden pushing out against the lace of my bra. You notice and I see your cock jump. Your eyes come back up to meet mine and you let out a small sigh, reaching your hand forward to stroke your thumb over the hard nipple. I arch against the touch then grin at you, “I win, assume the position”.

You drop to your knees and move closer, one hand still on my breast, pinching my nipple, the other slowly stroking up my thigh. Pushing my knickers aside so you can rub your thumb against my clit. Gently circling it as your fingers run along my slit, sliding inside my lips and teasing my opening. You let two fingers slip inside me, then look up into my face as you bring the fingers to your mouth tasting me. Then you drop down, your hands moving my thighs further apart and pulling me forwards on the chair. You dip your head, dropping a kiss against my slit before slipping your tongue between my lips, running it up to tease my clit. You tease me until I am wiggling and dripping, and when you nip my clit I feel the pressure that has built breaking, and I moan, one hand grabbing your hair, while the other clutches the chair. You stay there licking up my juices while I shiver.

And only once I have stilled do you back up, staying on all fours, with your head down. I reach down to pick up the belt that had fallen onto the floor then straighten up, keeping in folded I flex it a few times letting it ‘snap’ between my hands, enjoying the noise. I reach to tip your chin up, and meeting your eye I nod, you turn placing your arse within arms reach and I flick my hand up letting the belt unfold and bringing it down with a crack.

Innocent Joy

I was having a conversation with a friend today, we were discussing attractiveness. They were saying how much more attractive naked women are than naked men, and that dicks are just not nice to look at.

I sort of agree……or at least I get what she was saying but for me there is something kind of special about them. Now before you jump on me asking what I’ve been smoking or if I’m drunk, let me explain.

Maybe it’s a bit innocent and naive of me but there is something beautiful and almost magical in watching (and feeling) a cock go from soft to hard. Seeing it grow; the way it lengthens and thickens right before your eyes. The skin tightening, seeing the helmet appear all shiny and dripping pre-cum. I watch it happen with childlike (was hesitant to use the phrase but I can’t think of another that fits) wonder, no matter how many I’ve seen (and ok it’s not a huge number) it still fills me with a sense of awe. It’s like magic.

So I think she’s wrong, or maybe she just doesn’t see the magic like I do, but dicks can be very attractive.

Loving Relationships

Firstly, have to apologise it’s been over a week since my last post. I have about five half-finished posts in my draft folder (including two Wicked Wednesday submissions) , where I have started and not had chance to finish. My excuse is that I am living between two places and only one of them has reliable internet, and while I can use free wifi while out and about most free wifi doesn’t allow me to access any of the blogs (including mine) that I need to access due to the ‘adult content’. Very frustrating. Posts are going to be a bit sporadic for a few weeks until I am settled and sorted but hopefully it won’t be too long before I am back in full swing.

A slightly different post for you today.

My memories of my parents’ relationship are fairly fuzzy, I was only 11 when my Mum became ill and my memory of my childhood is patchy at best, it’s almost like a photo album. I have some very clear mental pictures but the parts in between are cloudy and confused. I’m sure they had rough times just like any relationship does, but what I remember most is how good they were together. The strength and depth of their love for each other, as well as their mutual respect and friendship, was obvious to anyone who saw them together. They were true soul mates; something even my completely atheist and unromantic Dad admitted freely. He once told me (after I was grown up but before he met my stepmum) that what he and my mum had is rare, they had their fair share of arguments but if she hadn’t died they would have been together forever.   Their relationship taught me that when you’re with someone every decision you make should take the other person into consideration. Not necessarily that you should change what you’re doing but that you should think of the impact not just on you but on that other person as well. They should be a factor in any decision you make. Neither my Mum or my Dad ever didn’t do anything they wanted to do but they both made the other part of their decision. They showed me that you can be in a relationship and still be independent, partnership is not about giving up who you are, but allowing someone else to be part of that. My Mum was independent and strong, she knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to tell my Dad exactly what she thought, and my Dad knew he could tell her what he was thinking without it being a problem.

His relationship with my stepmum (who he met when I was 19) was very different to the way he was with my Mum. Not just because of how different she and my Mum are but because she just wasn’t my Dad’s soul mate. I know that sounds harsh, and I am not saying my Dad didn’t love her, because he did but from my point of view their relationship was on much less equal footing. She had previously been married to men who were very controlling; she wasn’t allowed to wear trousers by her last husband! And my Dad was about as far from that as you could get; he encouraged her to wear whatever she wanted to wear, to speak up, and to stand up for herself when her friends were trying to browbeat her into doing something she didn’t want to do. This relationship wasn’t as much about equality or mutual anything; they didn’t share a bank account or have the household bills in joint names. She insisted my Dad pay the bills and she gave him ‘board’ every month, her ‘share’ wasn’t even half the bills, not even when she was working and he wasn’t. However this seemed to work for them and my Dad appeared happy enough so I kept my peace. The only part of their relationship that ever wound me up, and it was something my Dad brought up, because I would never have pointed it out to him, was the fact that in my Dad’s world his first priority was his kids, followed by his wife, but in my stepmum’s world it was her Church, her kids, everything else, herself and then my Dad. I’m not saying she didn’t love him but she never seemed to consider him in any of the decisions she made, I suppose as long as he was paying the bills and cleaning the house it didn’t matter if she spent time and energy on him.  That really does sound harsh and mean, and I wouldn’t have ever told her that, especially because it killed me that my Dad knew it.

In both relationships my Dad was the same; fun, loving, respectful and totally devoted to the other person. That’s what I look for, it’s the standard he set and I won’t settle for anything less. I want the type of relationship my parents had, I want to be with someone who lives and breathes for me, and vice versa.  I’m not saying I want to be the only thing in each other’s lives, because I’m pretty independent and that would drive me nuts but I do want someone whose first thought on waking and last thought before falling asleep is me. I want someone who knows all my flaws and still says I love you, a guy who’ll go an hour out of his way to see me for 20 minutes, who’ll embarrass himself just to make me smile, who’ll wipe away my tears and give me a hug when I’m crying even though he knows I’m crying at a book/film/song/advert. I want a guy who I would’ve been proud to introduce to my Dad (he never met any of my previous boyfriends which tells you all you need to know about them really), someone who my Dad would think was good enough for his baby.