Anita

“Right on the edge of fear was where trust could grow”

Cherise Sinclair

When I was a boy I wanted to be an amoeba. I liked the idea of being a creature that didn’t have to bother with sex. I adored Debbie Harry,  I masturbated till I was sore, I took my mother’s magazines to bed, I picked a model from the fashion pages and made her my wife, my lover in my fantasies. I imagined the house we would live in, the dinner parties we would host (which were oddly similar to the ones my parents hosted  but they were the only templates of adulthood I had), the bedroom where we would make love. I wanked to her in quiet adoration but when the sticky ejaculation flowed out to matt my pubic hair and dampen my pyjamas I felt a desperate sadness. These were things that would never be more than fantasy for me. Women belonged on posters, in magazines. In real life they were to be feared. Feared because, some time, a woman might ask me for sex. I avoided girls at at school. I took up trainspotting. I don’t even like trains. I found my fellow trainspotters weird. Yeah I know, I’m weird too but compared to these guys? But it was a safe environment, a long long way from sex.

I was 37 and a virgin when I met Anita. She was a few years older than me, divorced with 2 grown up children. I guess she was lonely. She must have been. Why else would she have been interested in me? But we starting meeting up. Just a drink in the local pub, a country walk. I liked her. She had a ready laugh, she could talk about football, she began to look after me. On my birthday I took her for dinner. She bought me a present, shirts and I realised she might be looking for more than friendship. That evening she invited me back to her house for coffee.

Coffee. And it’s not always with granules is it? I made myself comfortable on the sofa. . She poured whiskies and sat next to me. We talked, she sat closer, pressing her knee against my leg, played with my hair.  When she sat on my lap and pressed her lips gently against mine I felt sick. I was alone with her in her house, the bedroom was directly above us, the bedroom, the bedroom. Shit! The bedroom! This is real. This is going to happen. I felt my head go light as she took my hand and led me upstairs.

I failed. I cried. I apologised to her, told her I felt a failure. She cradled my head against her chest. kissed me gently on the top of the head, assuring me it was fine, she wasn’t angry,  it would be better next time. I unburdened myself there and then and 20 years of pain flowed out onto the soft sheets, like waters from a broken dam. She hugged me close, reassured me.

Next time, she kissed me gently, moving her lips from my mouth, down my body to my cock,  she took my cock into her mouth and sucked and licked and flicked the end with her tongue until I was hard. I knew I could keep this erection.  I knew I could. I wanted this. My fear was gone as she lay back, took me in her had and guided me into her wet, warm cunt. It didn’t last long. I felt the foreskin rolling back, felt wonderful sensations I had never known before. I pushed in and out  as she told me what to do. I came, felt the pulse of the ejaculation, saw a brilliant array of lights and colours as I sank down onto  her and submitted to its force.

I was spent. I was high on the joy of the moment. Anita sad she hadn’t come but that she was happy for me. She would come next time. She had enjoyed it anyway and next time would be even better. I cried as I thanked her. I knew that she had dome something special for me, something loving. She had taken my fear and turned it into trust.  And as for amoebas well………imagine one splitting into two and the second  is so much better than the first. It wants to fuck. It needs to.

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Ogdens Nut Gone Flake

I let him in through the back door and show him into the back room, the one with the nice furniture, the glass fronted cabinet and the musty smell from only being used once a year and being shut the rest if the time. My nan is in the front room watching Coronation Street, the sound turned up so loud that the walls shake.  My parents are away and have sent me here to look after her, or maybe be looked after? They don’t trust me and maybe they are right. I pour him a glass of lemonade and tell him to set in one of the armchairs. I go and check on my nan. The din is unbearable, Hilda Ogden is laying into her Stan, as my nan did once to Grandad. Now she is nearly deaf. She has fallen asleep.

I turned 16 yesterday. It is unbearably hot . It hasn’t rained for weeks.  Dad says that the government have appointed   a rain minister. He’s not voting Labour again, He thinks they should give that Tory woman a chance.  He will help Nan buy her council house.  But that’s adult stuff I don’t care about. I am still a virgin. That I do care about. And he is here to have me. He will be the first.

He reaches into his bag, takes out a flake. I wanted to try with this he says I’ve seen in a porn mag. And he makes me pull down my skirt and panties. I lie on the sofa, legs apart and draped over the arm. I am a bit nervous. He told me he was experienced but I think he was lying. He is face to face with my pussy and seems not to know where to start.

I only know bits from what older girls tell me at school. So I put a finger in to see if I am wet. I am bone dry. So I make him kiss me. This I can do.  I push my tongue in deep. He responds and soon we are wrestling awkwardly on the sofa. I love his smell, he has been shaving for a while now and I love the roughness of his stubble against my face. I push a finger in again in and feel that I am wet. He is hard. He is ready. He is scared. I see it in his face. He unwraps the flake, which has begun to melt in the July heat.  After fumbling awkwardly to find my slit, he pushes the flake in deep so that only the tip is visible, enough for him to grip with his teeth. And he does. The sensation is not unpleasant. He bites a bit off and pushes into my mouth. And eats the rest. Then he masturbates to get hard, rolls a condom on (where did he learn to do that?) and pushes into me.

And that was it. My first time at 16 years and a day. I don’t think I came and I didn’t fake, not that I knew how to. I lie there, sweaty, my buttocks caked in chocolate, a used condom limp between my legs. He asks me how it was so I say lovely (isn’t that what you are supposed to say?). I don’t get to ask when we can do it again. My nan has left the living room and I heading for the kitchen. I let him out through the French windows telling him to go round the corner on all fours so he can’t be seen.  It wasn’t too bad really.  I think I want him to fuck me again. First I have some cleaning g up to do.