A Thoughtful Girl and her First Time - Sex Stories

A Thoughtful Girl and her First Time

Every day you wake up remembering and trying to recapture that feeling, the one that made you feel alive, excite you, knowing that your very presence made all the difference, after all, we are talking about sex. That primeval urge deep within, that in the end, it drives us to procreate and say 'Yes', when our natural instinct is to say, 'No', where revulsion becomes part of the excitement, and nature is turned on its head, the unnatural adds a deeper and more intense pleasure. The first time for me was when I looked into his eyes and saw his joy, as he lay atop of me, bearing down and humping my small body, the pain between my legs melted away as his thrusting became more violent, he was closing in on that forbidden pleasure, just a few more strokes, and it would be over for me, but the beginning for him, he had been proven right, in his minds eye, and now as he ejaculated deep inside me, with his seminal warmth spreading behind my stomach, we had done it, and all that was left was the silence expected of me. My first time was a violent intrusion, at an age when girls are still unaware of the hidden pleasure between our legs, in truth I had never really thought about it, and right up until my first menstrual cycle, I never tried to hide myself from prying eyes, had I known then, what I know now, I would have worn panties, instead of sitting cross-legged in front of men, blissfully unaware of what I was doing to their thought processes. 'Your not the shy type, are you Mariel', ...

... he asked me as I sat in front of him? I was wearing a cotton dress, my white socks were tucked inside my black shoes, and they in turn lay off to the side of where I sat cross-legged, and laying back on my elbows, never thinking for a moment, this man of the cloth, was looking up at my bared, and open crotch. 'No Sir', I replied respectively, not really understanding his definition of the word 'Shy', or what he was implying to. 'Your Daddy encourage you to be like that'? Of course now I am older and more experienced in the ways of men and life, I could have given him an honest answer, but back then, words were, well, just words, and we just answered 'Yes', and 'No', as we thought necessary, if they pleased the person asking the question, so to his query, I said yes. This brought a huge smile to his face, 'Good Girl', he said over and over, murmuring more to himself than me. I looked down across the sand to where my father walked along the shoreline, well away from where the reverend and I sat together in seclusion, 'Come here girl', and I did as he bade, straddling his thick thighs, my inner thighs chaffing on the course material of his black pants. 'Open you mouth', and I did so, as wide as comfortably possible. He looked inside then place his heavily nicotine laden forefinger on top of my tongue, the acrid taste stinging and causing me to salivate excessively. He moved his finger in and out of my open mouth, and as he did so, he asked me to purse my lips and close my mouth ...