Strange Taste - First Love - Sex Stories

Strange Taste - First Love

... One of the taps, the hottest one, was still running from her previous visit when she prepared herself for him. Georgie picked up the bar of Cussons Imperial Leather and scrubbed her hands, ridding herself of him. There was a strange taste in her mouth — his taste. She shook her head despondently, daring herself to pluck the used pink toothbrush out of the mouldy beige tooth mug, applied a splodge of Colgate, then brushed her teeth.

The idea of her having a pen-friend in England had been her mother’s. Ironically, Georgie started writing to Lyndsey when she reached eleven: the same age she became acquainted with Peter and Pam. As they grew older, the teenagers became distant friends, confidantes, alluding to each other about the changes occurring in their bodies. Then, on her eighteenth birthday, she had embarked on her backpacking Tour of Europe starting in Italy, visiting Monaco, the South of France, Spain, Portugal, ending in London, from where she called Lyndsey — and heard about the party.

She rinsed the toothbrush clean, drying it on a pink face flannel, and returned it to its mug. There were four ‘his and her’ towels hanging by the hand basin. Georgie felt them all. The pink ones were sopping wet. She recoiled. She would have to use a navy-blue man’s towel after her shower. The shower head was unscaled. It protruded over a spotless four-legged bath. She turned on the twin brass taps, mixing the water to steamy hot, lifted the shower knob, and drew the curtain, ...

... ensuring it hung inside the bath. Then she climbed in, thrilling to the invigorating sensation of water cascading down her body, feeling all tingly inside. As she soaped her breasts, her belly, and crotch, the lure of him lying naked on the bed returned to haunt her.

The delicious surge of arousal spread through her body. Just as the red light of anticipation lit her up mind. She had tried to use the young man lying on the bed next door for her personal gratification and failed. He was at best inept, an awkward lover, but he held a fascination, a mystique she found intriguing. His v-shaped torso, muscular physique, the smoothness of his skin, his warm hair, demanded her caress. There was no doubt she’d lost control of herself, taking an incredible risk when she made love to him. But deep inside her heart, she felt an inner compulsion to be with him. Georgie wondered if this was whatreal love felt like.

She shampooed her hair with Silvikrin and tried to bring the intensity of her feelings under control, to rationalise her thoughts.

Tonight, she would tell him how much she loved sharing her precious moments with him, bid him a tearful farewell, kiss, embrace, and say goodbye. Tomorrow, if she managed to get out of bed, she would spend the day sightseeing in London.

Except, the time for rational thinking was over.

She rinsed her hair, turned off the shower, drew the curtain and climbed out of the bath. Some of her hairs were stuck in the plughole.

‘Always leave the ...