Instead, I kept on waking up over and over again to masturbate throughout the entire night, and well into the morning hours. My sperm-coated vagina felt very strange to me. And yet, it also felt wonderful at the same time. And God, I had never felt so horny in my entire life!
After that first “mega-masturbation night,” I played with myself at least once or twice every night for a good week or so. I just couldn’t help myself. I would wake up with my hand in my crotch, already diddling away, on auto-pilot.
After that fateful Sunday afternoon–and after my week-long, late night “masturbation marathon” was finally over with–I tried my best to forget about what took place between Freddy and me. I just wanted to move on with my life, and keep my “dirty little secret” to myself, so that no one would ever know about the 15 to 20 minutes’ worth of pure, hardcore sex that took place between Freddy and me in that small bathroom.
However, throughout the remainder of my teenage years, from time to time, I would automatically end up having erotic dreams about Freddy, only to wake up late at night so that I could masturbate myself from one glorious orgasm to another, all the while fantasizing about various aspects of the taboo sexual encounter that had taken place between Freddy and me in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon. The bottom line was that, whether I liked it or not, my mental re-living of my sexual encounter with Freddy always made me cum real good during my late-night masturbations.
It wasn’t until I was well into my high school years that I finally learned the very basics about what “fucking” was, and about what “sperm” was, and about how a guy’s sperm cells are designed to swim up through a woman’s uterus and impregnate an egg cell that the woman releases into one of her Fallopian tubes on a monthly basis. I have to admit that I was literally fascinated and intrigued by everything I learned about sperm cells and pregnancy.
Of course, all of this new sexual knowledge only served to make boys’ balls turn me on even more than they already did. In fact, to this very day, I tend to view a guy’s penis as primarily being a “fancy delivery mechanism” for his sperm. It goes without saying that a guy would naturally view his own penis as being much more important than that. But as far as I’m concerned, a guy’s balls are his true sex organ, because that’s where his precious sperm is manufactured and stored.
And just in case you haven’t already figured it out yet, it’s a guy’s sperm that really turns me on the most. After all, there’s no other substance on the face of this planet that can get a woman pregnant. And there’s nothing more erotic and exciting to me than taking a chance on the possibility of getting pregnant–which is exactly what we women do each and every time that we have sexual intercourse with a guy (during our pre-menopausal years, that is), because as far as I know, there is still no non-permanent birth control method that is 100% effective at preventing pregnancy. I mean, even perfectly good condoms can break from time to time.
By the way, I finally did manage to put two and two together to realize that Freddy actually fucked me and took my virginity that Sunday afternoon in the bathroom. Of course, this realization only served to turn me on even more, whenever I would fantasize about Freddy.
During my late-night masturbations as a teenager, all I had to do was think about how easily my young, sopping-wet, virgin pussy had played host to Freddy’s “gigantic” dark-skinned penis, and that would never fail to drastically increase my level of mental sexual excitement. And just thinking about the fact that I actually had a whole wad of Freddy’s living, “swimming” sperm cells up inside of my fertile, totally-unprotected womb for at least three to four days after Freddy fucked me…well, all I can say is: that thought turned me on–and still does turn me on–so much that I can’t even begin to put it into words!
And of course, to this day, I still have no idea whether or not I ovulated during those critical three to four days, while Freddy’s sperm was “swimming around” inside my Fallopian tubes and my uterus. All I do know is that I was about halfway through my menstrual cycle when Freddy inseminated me that Sunday afternoon, and that’s normally the point in the female menstrual cycle when most girls tend to ovulate.
And to be honest with you, I already felt exceptionally horny that day, long before Freddy ever came into that bathroom to have sex with me. The reason why I just told you that, is because I would later discover that I always feel my horniest when I’m ovulating. So I now realize that I was a very lucky young girl, because Freddy didn’t end up getting me pregnant, when he took my virginity in the bathroom that day.
Of course, I also realize that the possibility does exist that Freddy actually did get me pregnant that Sunday afternoon, but that my fertilized egg cell didn’t manage to attach itself to the lining of my uterus and start growing to become a baby.
However, be that as it may, the most important thing was that Freddy never did come back for a second helping of my “pussy pie” later on down the line, which of course would have only put me at an even higher risk of getting impregnated by him.
Despite the fact that I was merely cute-looking, and definitely not gorgeous, I went on to have a string of boyfriends throughout high school, and during my first year at college. I wasn’t a “goody two-shoes” either. I did my fair share of French-kissing and mutual body-groping with my boyfriends.
But outwardly, I always played the role of the “nice girl” who had a reputation to keep. And I let every one of my boyfriends know up-front that I was a virgin, and that I wanted to avoid having sexual intercourse until I got married, and let my groom fuck me on my wedding night.
However, the real truth was that, once I became sexually excited enough while making out with my boyfriends in the back seat of a car, my rational mind would go right out the window, to be quickly replaced by my living-in-the-moment state-of-mind, where it really didn’t matter to me how “far” my boyfriends went with me. In fact, thanks to my adolescent sexual encounter with Freddy in the bathroom, I yearned to feel a guy’s dick–and especially his sperm–in my pussy so badly that I could hardly stand it.
Ironically, none of my boyfriends ever “took advantage of me” during a date. But it wasn’t because I ever did anything to try to stop any of them from fucking me. Instead, it was simply because I always fell hard for the “really nice guys.” The kind of guys who don’t date-rape their girlfriends in the back seat of a car.
I became a college sophomore in the fall of 1972. (Just for the record, by that point in my life, my late-bloomer breasts had finally managed to grow large enough so that I had to buy C-cup size bras.) And at the very beginning of the fall semester, I met the love of my life, Ray. He was a freckled, red-headed, Scotch-Irish man who would become my husband many years later. Within a month after we first met, Ray and I started dating, and we quickly fell in love.
However, about a year or so into our relationship, my parents tried to stop me from dating Ray. They didn’t like his long hair, and the fact that he played in a rock band. My mother–the one who really “wore the pants” in my family–especially didn’t like the fact that Ray and I were getting very serious. He had already given me a promise ring, which I was proud to wear. And worst of all, from my mother’s racial-purist point-of-view, Ray wasn’t Hispanic. The last thing that my mother wanted was for me to be head-over-heels in love with a non-Hispanic guy, which is exactly what had ended up happening.
So I did the only thing logical thing that I could think of: I ran away from home.
I snuck out of my house late that same night (the night that my mother told me that she was forbidding me from dating Ray ever again). I walked to Ray’s house, which was a little over a mile and a half away from mine. I unexpectedly showed up on his doorstep at around 2:00 A.M., knocked on his front door and woke him up from a sound sleep. I asked if I could spend the night–and I never left. And that’s how Ray and I ended up living together.
And during those first few months together, the only birth control that Ray and I used during our lovemaking was called “trust.” In other words, I trusted that Ray wouldn’t lose his self-control during sex, and end up taking advantage of me (by fucking my possibly-fertile pussy), once I had gotten all hot and bothered, and inevitably slipped into my living-in-the-moment state-of-mind (which I already described to you just a few paragraphs ago).
And for several months, Ray continued to “honor my wishes” and avoid having sexual intercourse with me, despite the fact that we were sleeping in the same twin-size bed together, and having sex at least four or five times a week. And although Ray’s penis never actually penetrated my vagina during that whole time period, our lovemaking continued to get bolder and bolder, as Ray brought his bare dick into direct contact with my bare pussy more and more often, and for longer and longer periods of time.
Of course, I was always more than happy to cooperate with Ray during sex, and especially during this dick-to-pussy contact stuff, which was just a natural progression in our sexual relationship, as far as both of us were concerned. Basically, my cooperation with Ray involved me placing one hand on each side of my pussy mound, pulling my pussy crack wide-open with my fingers, and then holding it that way for Ray to rub his dick against. By the way, Ray was very careful to keep the head of his penis away from my vaginal entrance.
Of course Ray and I both realized that what we were doing with all this bare genitals contact stuff was somewhat risky–especially once the transparent pre-cum fluid would inevitably start leaking out of the tip of Ray’s dickhead–but that didn’t stop us from doing it. It fact, it only served to make our sexual encounters much more exciting for both of us, because we both knew that there could be literally thousands of living sperm cells swimming around inside a single drop of Ray’s transparent pre-cum fluid. And we did have some “close calls” where Ray nearly ended up ejaculating his wad of sperm directly onto my wide-open pussy crack, but he would almost always manage to pull away at the last second.
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