This is a remembrance of the only time I made love to two different men separately in one day. It was unplanned, they didn't know each other and they were both named Steve.
I am mistaken for Polynesian. I am from a region nearby and mixed with European blood. I have long flat-black hair, not curly but wild, olive skin. At the time of this story I am 18, long legs, tiny waist, smallish boobs, round bottom, high cheek bones and no fat.
I did not start out that day with the aim of conquering two men, let alone two with the same first name, but I needed some reassurance that I was desirable. I needed to have affirmational sex.
I have moved from working in insurance to working for the county of Alameda and today is Friday, the beginning of Memorial Day weekend.
Steve 1:
In high school, he hosted make-out parties in the basement of his parent's east bay home. The parties were innocent, really. No drugs, just lots of couples having a place to hook-up and make-out. Some, though, may have passed first base. I had, once, when I was felt up for the first time in my sophomore year. Steve was a senior then and though he was pretty and sophisticated I had not spent any time with him. Now out of high school, I can change that.
I warn Steve #1 with a call that I am coming over. I knock on his bungalow door about 9 am. I am wearing bell-bottoms. They have a high waist & are hip-hugging. My peasant blouse is off-white, sleeveless, with some hippie looking design across the chest. Since I am braless as usual, my dark brown nipples show through the thin cotton.
Steve answers the door in his boxers, t-shirt and sandals. His hair is dark like Mediterranean, his face unshaven, and he seems unimpressed with me. So far, this is not very affirming.
He invites me in and asks if I want to get stoned. I don't. He does though, and heads off to the kitchen. I am abandoned in the living room which has a huge picture window with no curtains that looks out on the sleepy east-bay neighborhood. In front of the window is an old burnt-orange sofa and opposite is the TV, now playing cartoons silently while the radio plays alt-rock.
I am on a mission. I take off my top and sneak into the kitchen wearing only my bell-bottoms and clogs. As Steve stands at the counter manufacturing his joint, I squat behind and run my fingers up the side of either leg as I stand and rub my breasts into his back. This gets his attention. He shivers a bit. I stand on tiptoe and I rest my chin on his shoulder and look down at a developing erection under his boxers.
I place a hand on the emerging phallus outside the fabric and stroke. His concentration is taken from the joint. I slide my other hand under his shorts and pull his member straight up. I tickle the underside of his shaft near the head. Now with both hands I begin to pump.
He focuses back on the joint without a sound. He licks the edge and pulls it through his moistened lips. He knows he is about to get laid but he still wants to be stoned. He lights the joint and turns to me making another offer of a hit. I decline and we walk to the couch with his penis pointing the way.
Steve lays into the shoulder of the couch. My attempt at seduction must be routine to him. He takes more tokes of his joint while watching me undress in front of the picture window. The sun streams in making the cool day cozy warm around the couch. I stand naked before him wondering about my desirability. I drop to my knees and pull his shorts down revealing a very pleasant looking cock in full glory. I part his knees and shuffle in on mine between his legs. With just my finger nails I lightly scratch from behind his tightly sacked testicles up and around to his shaft to just the underside of the head. Steve takes deep breath and stares at me with half-opened eyes.
I bend and enveloped his little head with my lips. I first actually suck, then bob up and down for a while. I feel my pussy start to trickle then flood in anticipation the ecstasy to come.
I stand; step back and pick up Steve's feet and rotate him so he is fully on the sofa. I straddle him with a knee on the couch and a foot on the floor. Coming prepared I produced a condom. I rip open the pack and toss it after removing the slippery item. I unroll the prophylactic over his Johnson. I then insert him into me. There was little resistance from my slippery pussy. At first I bounce vertically, and then crank my pelvis forward and back. I realize my upper half is exposed to the neighborhood through the picture window. This excites me even more. I see no one, but I fantasize that someone is watching from one of the other houses. Perhaps an old man with binoculars is also becoming aroused. I arch my back so my tits point straight up as I move along his hips. I am sure now the old man knows what I am doing. My movements can be interpreted in no other way but fucking.
Steve is doing nothing. He is a human dildo. I grab his hand and put it on my breast. I order him to "squeeze my nipple!" "Ouch! Not so much." When he gets it right I just say "There." Now he was participating somewhat. His pelvis begins to pump, pushing his dick ever deeper in me. I feel the shaft pulse. He is going to come. I am going to come.
With one hand on Steve's shoulder I leaned in and start masturbating. With that I could feel him pop, even through the condom. I follow immediately. Steve roars, I scream. Our orgasms probably give the old man watching a heart attack.
Steve's body goes limp but occasionally jerks. I keep riding. I am enjoying the aftershocks of the main temblor. I soak him for all he was worth, then stand letting him slide out and flop onto his belly. I pull off the condom, keeping the elixir contained. I toss his boxers over his flaccid cock, gather my clothes and head for the shower. I dispose of the condom, wash and dress.
I come back to the living room to say goodbye. Steve hasn't moved. He is zonked. I head out looking for from which house the old man was watching. I can't tell.
I am off to buy a bikini for my next adventure, a water-ski lesson from a friend in Marin. I am going to stay at his place overnight to get an early start. Oh, and coincidentally his name is Steve.
Steve 2:
The bikini bottoms I pick out have a nearly rectangular front panel, rather than triangle, and it just covers the hair line. Strings tie on either side with long droopy bows. It is an off-white cotton material. The back side fully covers unlike the front. The top is tiny. It is tied in back and around the neck with a lot of string left over falling down the curve of my back. The "cups" were narrow bands that barely covered my nipples. There is ample side-boob from all angles. After the purchase I get a wax that turns the triangle to a rectangle to match the bikini. I head home for a nap before my next adventure.
It is an hour-and-a-half drive from the east bay. Over the Golden Gate and into Marin, in an area called Kent Woodlands, that brings me to the red door of Steve #2. It is a big house made of thick, wide, dark lumber. Like a log cabin without mortar between the beams which are flat and untreated. About a third of the main house is over the garage. The rest sprawls southward onto what appears to be a big rock. The house is somewhat isolated and is surrounded by a forest of evergreen fir trees, deciduous oak, etc. I knock on the rather out-of-place red door.
Steve #2 I know from my work for the county. He sells insurance for the Government Employees Insurance Co. where I had worked earlier. Later it is known as GEICO. He occasionally drops by and takes my group to lunch. He always makes an impression arriving in a red Carrera (like the color of the door).
At one of the lunches he asks me to go water skiing. I say I'd love to but have never been before. He promises to teach me one weekend. This is that weekend.
Steve opens the red door. I smile and let the bikini dangle from my hand. He chuckles and says, "That ain't gonna cut it on water skis. You're gonna need a wet suit."
I frown.
"My mom has one that'll fit."
