Strange Taste - First Love - Sex Stories

Strange Taste - First Love

... left the girl in.Now Georgie wants to play with me.

She forced him to perch on the seat while she unbuttoned his shirt, undid the stud on his cords, unzipped his fly, and slid her hand inside his pants. He groaned as she played with him on the swing. Georgie ran her tongue down his neck. Her langue explored his torso, licking his stiff nipples, tasting the salty tang of sweat in his navel. Tenderly, she caressed his proud, velvety flesh with her soft hand, gently squeezing his taut sac until he felt fit to burst, ‘How does that feel, good?’

He didn’t know how to answer her. Georgie knelt in the grass, grasping him, staring into his flushed face. She asked him, ‘Would you like to make love to me?’

‘Yes.’

She spoke to him as if he were her child,

‘Shall we go inside then, see if we can’t find a bed?’

‘I don’t have a sheath.’

Georgie felt inside her back pocket and took out a thin silver foil pouch. ‘It’s alright,’ she intimated, ‘I’ve got one. Come with me.’

Quickly, she tucked him away inside his pants, put on her t-shirt, held his clammy hand and led him to the scullery door.

Save for a few scattered cans, empty bottles and overflowing ashtrays, the table was bare. The food had been devoured. The gaggle of teenagers had dispersed. Gripping his hand, Georgie negotiated the animalistic lair of bodies writhing on the floor. They reached the stairs. There was a queue stretching from the hall to the landing for the upstairs toilet. She felt him ...

... tense.

He turned to her and confessed, ‘I’ve never made love to a girl before.’

Georgie smiled at him lovingly, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.’

Her love, her care, her warmth towards him, infected him. He loved her smile, wanted to make her happy, always. Eager for her to take the lead, he followed her upstairs, his eyes fixed firmly on her rear, avoiding the knowing glances from a handful of sober voyeurs.

They arrived at the landing, which was decorated with flock wallpaper. There was a solitary picture of a few snowdrops growing out of a bed of dead leaves, which Georgie took as symbolizing new life out of death. Other than the loo, on her right, there were three doors off the landing. Two of them were shut. She wondered if they all locked from the inside.

The sensual thrill waves permeated her body. Trembling with anticipation, she brought her lover to the threshold. They ventured to the open door and peeked inside. The bedside lamps were switched on, casting gloomy shadows.

He hesitated.

How Can I Be Sure? was playing in the background.

Georgie kissed him fully on the lips, rubbing his crotch, stimulating him, hardening him, murmuring, ‘Shall we go inside?’

She couldn’t believe her luck. The main en suite bedroom was free. Georgie entered first, followed by him. His chest felt tight with expectation. She shut the door, blinding prying eyes, turned the key in its lock, and slid all three bolts in place. The ballad:Alone Again, Naturally, faded into ...