All those mentioned within this story are over the age of eighteen. A special thanks to linda1234 for her encouragement, and of course to Staci, who I love and adore. Mwah!
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It was the summer between what would typically be my college junior and senior years, but in reality I was less than a semester away from graduating. I had my sights set on my post-graduate degree, but was smart enough to know another year-and-a-half to two years of tuition was really going to put me in a deep financial hole before I'd even entered the workforce.
I'd seen a number of stories on women becoming sugar babies for successful men, and being one who enjoyed good sex from an attentive lover - actually, I'm sure anyone who knows me would call me a highly sexual individual - I thought it might be fun work, as it were. And the college guys I'd spent time with, while not jerks by any means, weren't the most attentive when it came to sharing pleasure. I'm a big believer in shared pleasure, and like to think I give as good as I get. So after a lot of thought on the moral implications, I determined I'd like to be compensated for the time I was going to spend with successful gentlemen. At least I hoped I'd find some successful ones!
What led me to do such a thing? Prostitute myself? I won't bore you with the "we're all prostitutes in one way or another" argument, but I was comfortable, even excited with my decision. I love having sex, so why not be compensated monetarily for my time? Just how did I get to this point in my life? I guess it was during high school when my sexual journey began. While I'd kissed a number of boys, and let them play with my then-smaller boobs, felt their hard-ons and let them rub up against me, my first true sexual experience was with an older woman.
Shelly was a young wife, no kids at the time, who lived next door to a couple I used to babysit for, on the next block over from my house. She had very pretty, almost flawless skin, light brown hair, and large, but soft looking brown eyes. Being medium build, she may have been 5'6", with a 34B, sometimes a little fuller breast size.
We had talked a few times, just girl stuff. I don't know if I was mature for my age, or was simply flattered an older woman wanted to spend time talking with me, but we seemed to get along well from the very beginning. I just knew I felt comfortable being with her.
Then one day, during the summer and a few weeks before school began, I happened to be walking by when Shelly invited me in. We were sitting in her kitchen talking and drinking cokes, and before long found ourselves talking about boys. She asked me how far I'd gone with any of them and I told her it was mostly just kissing, but they did want to touch me in other places. During this part of our conversation Shelly had placed her hand on mine, and as I spoke she would slowly and softly rub her gentle hand up and down my arm, just from the wrist to elbow. Again, I don't know if it was something that drew me to her, but I didn't seem to mind the touches. It actually felt quite nice, maybe just mild tingles?
She then asked me if I thought I was a good kisser. I said I thought so, and she asked if I would like to show her. Again, for some reason, maybe just my young bold nature, but I didn't hesitate at all when she asked.
While I might not have been as good as I thought when I arrived, by the time I left for home that afternoon she taught me the art of kissing, and how to use my lips, tongue and fingertips. I learned to listen to the sounds a person makes, their body movements, how those were clues and how I should respond.
But we just kissed, a lot, that first day. And honestly, she had me all worked up so once I made it home I had to touch myself until I climaxed.
She had invited me to come back a couple of days later, and boldly asked me what I'd done when I left. The dirty girl in me wanted to tell her, she just had that kind of spell over me. Shelly knew what she was doing that first day, and when I told her what I'd done once I'd gotten home, she asked me how long I'd been masturbating. After I told her maybe a couple of years, she asked if I'd like for her to show me how it was done? Properly was the term she used. She said we wouldn't touch each other "down there", just ourselves.
Taking my hand, she led me to her bedroom and began undressing me. And we kissed, a lot. That woman loved to kiss and use her lips, which she did on the upper part of my body - my neck, behind the ear, all over my face, shoulders, Once we were both nude she had me lay up against the headboard while she did the same against their footboard. Facing each other, with only calves, ankles and feet touching, I mirrored her movements as she showed me how she made herself orgasm, how she took her time, running over and around her mound, then sliding a finger, sometimes more than one, up and down her vagina, caressing the outside, dipping inside, bringing her juices back up to her clit. She explained each woman was unique so I might reach my orgasm differently.
I had tasted myself before, first just out of curiousity, and was okay with it so it was not a shock when Shelly offered me her fingers after our orgasms. Naturally, she tasted different, but certainly not unpleasant, and in fact had a touch of sweetness to her. And then we kissed. A lot, which we both now seemed to like very much, along with the warm, gentle hugs and caresses. Needless to say, it was very intense while being oh so sensual. She had to remind me a number of times to slow down, and enjoy the pleasure, and there was more to masturbation than just rubbing my clitty. How watching someone pleasure themselves could be pleasurable in itself, and how just looking into your partner's eyes could heighten the experience.
I was too naive to realize everything we'd done up to that point had been foreplay. She had seduced me over a week's time, Lord that woman had patience. She was a very good lover-teacher. But then, I later thought to myself, she has a husband, and he must be having a lot of fun at night. Strangely, as I look back we never really spoke much about him, and certainly never put on a show. My, I couldn't do something like that back then.
It wasn't until the next week that Shelly first kissed my kitty, and we made love for the first time. My body felt both as if it were on fire, and being mildly electrocuted, the little shocks seemed to be racing all through me, and not just in my pussy, but all over. It was such a contradiction, with both warming waves and also tension-filled pulses, seemingly from my stomach, outward. And I'd never been so wet.
Shelly's lips and tongue played me like a musical instrument, dipping here, swirling there, gently sucking everywhere. And while she kept saying to me "Shhh, shhhh," I found the verbal release made everything a little more intense, and pleasurable. Her finger gently rolling over my slickened anus, and then into my pussy sent me over the edge, and I must have looked like a fish flopping around on her bed. I'd thought I'd made myself orgasm before that day, it was nothing compared to what she did for me.
When I finally made love to her, I was overwhelmed with emotion, and wanted so badly to please her as she had done with me. Shelly was so patient with me, reminding me how it felt when she made love to me, and to listen to her body. I literally made love to her treasure with my mouth and tongue, I could not get enough of the reward whenever her juices began flowing, knowing I'd done something good. Her lips so soft, her little bud so hard, yet delicate. I cried when she came, and was lucky enough to bring her to at least one more orgasm before I was emotionally spent. But there was almost a majestic feeling of accomplishment watching her receive the same ecstasy she had given me.
She hugged and soothed me, kissing my salty tears and her fluids from my face as we bathed in each others' warmth for what seemed like hours, but was probably less than one hour in actuality. Our sessions went on, on a not so regular basis, pretty much all summer. And each time we'd be done before her husband came home from work.
I did see her on and off during my senior year, and was never really attracted to any of my female classmates, and it may have just been my imagination but the boys seemed to be more interested in me that year. Was it a self confidence I was beginning to feel? Something Shelly had nurtured over the summer? Whatever it was, I was looking forward to getting close with Jason, one of my classmates. I'd shared my feelings with Shelly, and we discussed how sex with a male might go that first time, and soon agreed it be best if I was "prepared" to give myself to him.
