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ON HAVING A FAMILY
I’m Angela, a twenty-nine-year-old college professor with something to confess. I have witnessed a grace and an openness on the part of a seasoned married couple that I envy and would emulate. Granted, my dear step-brother Bill and I each developed a strong physical attraction to both Herb and Lianne; additionally, gaining their friendship has provided the impetus for me to walk forth from the shadow of my secrets. Like them I want to be naked in the sunlight and be proud.
Since I was young I have been traversing a high wire with ardent sexuality on one side and nymphomania on the other. It was my classmate Gabriela who taught me to masturbate. We would do it together. In high school I developed a crush on her older brother Carlos. We fooled around a lot and were starting to become serious when, the August before senior year, my mother and I moved to another state.
The heart-breaking separation from my close friends had been in the works since Christmas as Mommie was marrying Jim Faxon, and they wanted to be in their new home when I started country day school as a twelfth grader. For Mom it was sort of a homecoming as she had grown up in our new locale, but for me it was kind of scary–going into a new school and all. One pleasant surprise was how nice Jim’s son Bill turned out to be. Only a year younger than I, he was really sweet in showing me around the new place and answering all my questions.
The knife-edge of lust was on me in those days; and I masturbated every night, reliving the feel of Carlos’ embrace. However, swimming with Bill at my Aunt Louise’s pool, I began to notice things about my cute step-brother besides his blond gangling height and clear blue eyes. His legs were beautifully shaped, and through silken tank trunks I divined a cord of lengthy cock and dynamite buns that could give a girl the fuck of her dreams. Could he, I mused, be induced to do some of the nice things that Carlos and I had wanted to do? And in those early months my campaign to find out began with careless exposure of my grown breasts, which by that time were the size of large navel oranges. I knew Bill was noticing.
A second phase, our regularly kissing goodnight, was interrupted by the major catastrophe of our young lives. Our newly wed parents were killed in a van accident in Europe. The accident occurred on the delayed honeymoon that Jim and Mommie had been so looking forward to.
There was a flurry of legalities in which Bill and I were the chief problems. We met Jim’s old friend “Uncle“ Herman, a single guy going steady with Scotch whiskey, who was delegated as Bill’s guardian. Mommie’s younger sister Louise became my guardian until I would become twenty-one, and I would live with her at the ritzy estate she shared with her fifty-something husband, an investment banker who did a lot of traveling. This permitted me to finish country day and start college with a home to go to. The other awful development was separation from Bill, whose “Uncle” Herman had no choice but to have him salted away in a boarding school, against our weepy protestations. The only compromise was that he could spend vacations with us.
Auntie got club privileges for me with tennis lessons and laid an expensive school wardrobe on me. Still, she didn’t exactly “mother” me–we were more like sisters, and we were sometimes mistaken as such for our blond hair and similar physical attributes. She was thirty-two at the time without children and claimed she adored my company. Before her marriage to Ogden she’d worked for Playboy Enterprises. Now she busied herself directing the gardener, attending luncheons with her golf and tennis friends, and swimming. When the somewhat secluded pool opened in spring, I discovered that Auntie was devoted to sunning and swimming in the nude. I was pleased to join her when I could: it’s great for a girl to open herself to the gently moving water and the sun’s rays. And there was the additional thrill of knowing that Ralph, the young gardener, or Dixon, the handsome black chauffeur, was nearby and sometimes at work with us in view.
My girl breasts were still growing: they seemed longer and heavier. With the coming of the warmer weather, I had graduated kocaeli escort to the grapefruit league! Auntie had noticed as well and complimented me on their beauty, remarking that my boyfriends must enjoy them. I thanked her and admitted that, although they had attracted some nice attention, I had not been sexually active. Her reaction was an ongoing seminar on sex and the single girl. During the ensuing month I went on the pill, prescribed by her gynecologist, and she fielded my questions with enthusiasm about men and the joys of sexual intercourse.
Before long the course waxed practical. My confession that I had masturbated since age fourteen pleased her enough to bring an eight-inch ivory-colored vibrator to my bedroom one night and to help me use it. She said it was like a man’s penis—but cool! She thought I did remarkably well with it, saying and that I should let her know when I’d like a real one. Of course, nights with my new toy, it was wonderful to imagine fucking Bill with such a realistic surrogate. But then I wanted the hot one more than ever, and before two weeks had passed, I told Auntie that she had made me very sexy and that, if she thought I was ready, I would love to do it with a guy. But who?
She smiled and kissed me; then, clearing her throat, she declared, “I think Ralph would make a good first partner for you, Angela. He’s nineteen and knows how to handle a woman. But what might be helpful before that, if it would appeal to you, is to observe Dixon and me. We’ll be in the guest bedroom tomorrow morning at ten. Had you guessed at the range of Ralph’s and Dixon’s duties?”
“Do you mean you have sex with them?”
“Yes, dear, they are very important to Ogden and me.” Talk about thunderbolts … a flush kindled my circulatory system. Through assorted colored images I breathed audibly, “Oh, Auntie … you’ve shared so much with me! Are you sure you’d want me to watch? Wouldn’t Dixon mind?”
“What’s a guardian for? Don’t answer that! Seriously, I think it would be very nice, and Dixon has agreed already. He loves your big tits!”
I stayed awake half the night fingering my nipples and teasing my clit while imagining Dixon and Aunt Louise as lovers. The recommendation of Ralph as “dildo number two” was okay: I had flirted with him and liked his whimsy. But I kept seeing Auntie–nude but for boots, spurs, and riding whip–coaching and goading the neophytes to orgiastic heights. I was confident that we could do just fine by ourselves. The practicum with the older lovers, nevertheless, was somehow very exciting. I think it was the news that Dixon had admired my bare breasts that made me want to be with them. Perhaps I could prove my readiness for a black master once my apprenticeship was served. My crush on Dixon grew during the night; I hoped he would like my pussy too.
II AN AFRICAN HOLIDAY
At 10 a.m. of a weekday in late July, when the guest room door opened, I was breathless with excitement. Auntie did most of the talking while Dixon merely smiled in his happy servitude. She explained that they wanted my date with Ralph to go well and felt that joining them in foreplay that morning would be ideal preparation. “Of course, we ourselves will find your company stimulating to our sex,” she added softly.
Dixon nodded, smiling, and took my hand, saying, “Your aunt speaks truly, Angela. Learning is fun. Won’t you join us?”
I smiled and squeezed the long, strong fingers. “Okay.”
“Let’s start with a shower,” Aunt Louise directed. Undressing slowly, Dixon and I found our eyes locked on each other, each brimming with desire to see and pleasure at showing. From the touch of gray at the temples, I guessed that Dixon was in his forties. His color was a warm brown–certainly darker than Carlos. Bare to the waist, his great shoulders and arms rippled with muscle as he undid his belt. And then we were both naked. His genitals were beyond my dreams: his balls, tight and high in the black leather pouch, made the great black cock seem extra big—so much fatter than I had imagined. Standing there for me, smiling, he fingered the plump purple spearhead and pulled his semi-hard out to its full length and let it fall.
Nervous but happy, I answered kocaeli escort bayan the kind gesture, lifting my breasts, releasing them, then brushing their broad pink tips lightly with my fingers for his warm gaze. I felt the secretion of my vagina begin to course down my inner thighs. As our eyes met, mine spoke in silent chorus with my smile: “Yes… I want to fuck you,” they said.
“Will you two stop ogling each other! I have a luncheon at the Club at one,” Auntie broke us up, laughing and turning on the shower.
The shower stall had a bench along the side and could accommodate four people. When the water was right, we played two-on-one. While Dixon washed Auntie’s long, slim legs and bottom, I did her top. Her breasts, higher and firmer than mine, were perfect handfuls. Capped by wide pink areolas, which seem to run in our family, their beauty in her Playboy pictorial a decade past still glowed for me in the flesh.
I was assigned Dixon’s dong for the second round. After soaping his hard buns, I probed his anus, which had been suggested in one of the books Auntie gave me, and then gave the vas deferens a minute-long massage. Auntie had taken a seat to watch my dealing with the principal issue. I knelt before it, shampooed the bush, and batted the monster lightly before girdling the root tightly and milking down the slippery length. That big black cock was such fun to play with! Then I flipped it back up and rolled it back and forth across his stomach. As I started to give Dix a good jerking, I could see that Auntie was clearly flabbergasted; and upon his roars to stop, she exclaimed, “Angela darling, you do a fine piece of work!”
I smiled up at Dixon and murmured, “I had a fine piece to work with. I guess I did get carried away.” And we all laughed. When Dixon asked to do me below the waist, I put in, “One good turn deserves another. Okay, Auntie?”
“Oh, yes, I want to wash your beautiful tits.”
For most of my treat we were standing. Auntie’s touching and stroking were extremely seductive and complemented Dixon’s explorations with the effect that I started kissing them both–tongues thrashing–and renewed my hold on the shiny new cock in my life. Approaching my orgasm and thinking it polite to postpone it, I removed Dixon’s hand and announced, “Time for my three-minute rinse.”
Toweling down was an individual enterprise. Out in the bedroom we three stood before the full-length mirror, which comprised a whole section of the wall, kissing and admiring ourselves. Tumbling back onto the queen size bed, we girls hogtied Dix and tit-swept his supine body with extra swipes of his face and genitals. Amid our giggles Auntie declared, “Angela, the theme of our course is ‘Sex is fun!’ Sub themes could be ‘Foreplay is almost all’ and ‘The action should be the woman’s call.’ Men can fuck at the drop of a bra cup. A woman must be loved, and a good man can learn how.”
“Twas an exhaustive lesson. Both gave me oral sex (a wonderful first); and, opening very wide, I sucked Dixon’s enormous black cock, followed by the fun of having it glide between my well-oiled tits! These techniques, nevertheless, couched in an instructional context, struck me as mechanical and likely to leave me high and dry. Watching my mentors in coitus as the climax of my morning was not my idea of good sex. Happily, Auntie as well read the situation as an unfairness to me that she hadn’t planned. “Angela,” she said, “there’s been an oversight. What about your orgasm? You’ve been so good this morning–how would you like to have it?”
“I was wondering about that myself. You know what, Auntie? I think you want Dixon to fuck me some time in the future. Do you?”
“Yes, I want that very much,” she returned, catching up Dixon’s hand and looking into his eyes.
“The arrangement with Ralph would be okay sex, I’m sure. But, Auntie, it’s my cherry! And I want Dix to have it. If ‘Action is the woman’s call,’ I’d like my orgasm with Dix fucking me hard and deep.”
They both nodded and we three embraced. “I was so wrong! I want Dix to fuck you now! But, first, why don’t we demonstrate some positions. Dixon, you must contain yourself so that Angela’s first fuck will be strong and complete. Would izmit escort you like him to come in you, dear?”
“Oh, yes, please. Dixon, show me how you fuck Auntie, but I want to feel all of your come shooting inside my pussy!” The exhibition made me terribly hot, and the foreplay was amazing. They were slow and loving with me; and, when my want was satisfied, I was tight around him. It felt better and better as he moved in and out, and we were fucking hard and fast before we both came.
This episode whetted my yen for big cocks, especially big black cocks. A related discovery of my adolescent years was the fun of threesomes. If you trust your friends, say, “yes.” I was truly privileged to have been intimate with Auntie and Dixon, and thereafter with Dixon and Ralph.
Sex at the estate featured various combinations and always by reservation in the guest room. Dix and Ralph referred to it as “the playroom.” And there-behind hangs a tale.
Once when Ogden was on a trip, Dix and Auntie were off to a luncheon, and Ralph and I were catching some rays poolside, I ran out of suntan lotion and took it upon myself to duck upstairs and hunt down Auntie’s supply in the master bedroom. Being my first visit of those private chambers, I was impressed by the swish layout. When I peeked into the immense walk-in closet, I was amazed to see a window at the far end. Curious, I tiptoed down to discover a view of the entire guest bedroom, the queen size bed central–upon which I had masturbated, sucked, and fucked. I was on the other side of the big mirror. On a shelf above, alongside a video library, a camcorder was mounted. Good heavens–I was a porn star! My shock and outrage yielded to tumbling images of erotic encounters and finally to cool reason. This was also the stage upon which Auntie had performed; the interior closet was Ogden’s box. Then I recalled her words that the extended duties of the servants “were important” to Ogden and herself. Without question Auntie was a nymphomaniac; and, even if potent to any extent, Ogden–the poor guy–was a committed voyeur. Furthermore, we were all on his payroll. For me to remain in his good graces was obviously important.
My conclusion was sympathetic to Ogden’s getting his kicks while we were pleasuring ourselves. I continued to please Auntie and my other randy partners; but there was added exhilaration when I showed my big tits or opened my pussy to take a lover: I was showing and opening for Ogden.
Thank goodness that Auntie had seen fit to get me on the pill: as a college freshman I enjoyed not only the resident studs but also Bill when home from school, and an added starter, his beautiful eighteen- year-old virgin roommate, John. Bill, who had become devoted to John’s sex education, told me how nice he was and, realizing how much I love to fuck, thought John’s big, lively cock would be perfect for me. And we were great together! I have never had a more passionate lover, as when John, whose family was overseas, stayed with us during those Christmas and Easter vacations.
Both Bill and I did well in our studies at school and college. As an undergraduate I rode the monumental cock of an adorable trackman named Sol. En route to my Ph.D. in Anthropology, I lived for a year with my advisor and another professor, who enslaved me in an unforgettable menage a trois. Another adventure in group sex was through the kindness of Bill and friends. The other participants were a faculty couple at his prep school.
It turned out that Bill had fallen in love with his English teacher, Becky Pope; and, while Bill was still her student, they began fucking with the encouragement of her husband. Reggie was a very handsome hunk himself, as I discovered four years later when they invited us to spend Christmas week with them. They are fun people! The third night they proposed that Bill sleep in the master bedroom with Becky, so that Reggie and I could get to know each other better in the guestroom. He confided to me that he loves big boobs, and his oral attentions to my sensitive clit have become habit-forming. Fortunately, their house is but 119 miles from our apartment.
I feel better now that I’ve made this confession. I don’t regret my decisions; it’s rather that with acquaintances I masquerade as “Goody-two-shoes.” This is necessary, of course, because of my profession; but there is another real me whom my friends deserve to know–the very sexy girl who is open to experiment.
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