This is the story of the night I discovered what turned me on. I still get goose bumps when I remember how I went from a shy girl who had never had an orgasm...to a wild woman who had learned that displaying herself in public and coming in front of strangers was best.
I was a 19 year old college sophomore and I was sexually frustrated and curious and filled with yearnings I didn't really understand. My parents had been very strict in high school and I had not been allowed to date unless I was in a group situation and supervised. My first liberating year in college I had been in two serious relationships that each led to sex, but the sex had been brief and unfulfilling and part of the reason I ended each relationship. Neither guy knew how to make me come, and I was too inexperienced and unfamiliar with my own body to help them much. The only masturbating I had done was pressing my pussy up against the dryer when it was vibrating and feeling a strange pulsing inside, but I had always been afraid of being caught and had never pressed long enough to see where that feeling might lead. So while I wasn't technically a virgin, I was an orgasm virgin, and I wanted desperately to learn what all the fuss was about.
I am a natural blonde, fairly petite, with long wavy hair that falls almost to my waist. I have DD cup breasts that are too big for my small frame, very round and full with big pink nipples. I often catch men staring at them, which I secretly enjoy, but the attention makes me blush. And when I blush, it isn't just my face that turns beet red. I feel the flush spread down my chest, into my nipples, and the more embarrassed I feel, the longer and harder my nipples get. If I get really embarrassed, I can feel the blood rushing to my clit. But in the fall of my sophomore year I had not yet made the connection between my embarrassment and sexual pleasure, and maybe that was why I had not yet had an orgasm. Letting a familiar boy touch me in the dark was simply not my kink, and that was the extent of my sexual experience.
But on to the night of my story...Rick, a guy I knew from econ class, had invited me to a party he was throwing at his apartment. It wasn't a date; we were casual friends and he just said a lot of guys were attending and that he hoped I would come and bring a girl friend to help even out the boy-girl ratio. I asked my friend Katie to come with, and she agreed, but at the last minute she bailed on me. I was almost finished dressing and excited about the party when she called and cancelled, and I knew that good girls didn't go to parties alone, but I was sick of being a good girl. "What the hell," I thought. "I want to meet a guy that turns me on, and I'm not going to do that sitting home in my room. Katie or no Katie, I'm going to that party."
I didn't have a car and had never been to Rick's apartment before, but the address was less than a mile away, so I decided to walk. I took one last look in the mirror and smiled. I knew I really looked hot that night. I had spent time shaving my legs, making up my face, painting my nails, and brushing out my hair. I had borrowed an outfit from my roommate, a retro-looking one-piece pantsuit, kind of like something the hot girls in the Austin Powers movies would wear. It was a beautiful blue color and it clung to my curves. My roommate was a size smaller than me, so it looked a little slutty, the way it clung to my breasts and bottom, but that was what I wanted. The pantsuit had a long zipper down the front with a big circle pull, which had been part of the outfit's appeal. I liked the thought that I could display more or less by tugging the zipper up or down.
Under it, to reduce the panty line, I wore the briefest, flimsiest panties I owned. The panties were white, lacy, and see-through. My blonde curly pubic hairs were visible through the front, and the crack of my bottom was visible from the back. I felt very sexy in them and hoped I would find somebody to show them to. My bra was an underwire, which I always wore since my breasts were so large, but the material covering the nipples was the same, flimsy see-through fabric as the panties. The bra pushed my breasts upward, making my already substantial cleavage even more impressive. I took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and tugged the zipper down another inch, until it was halfway between my breasts and the edge of the lacy bra and the inside curve of my breasts peeked out. Then I strapped on my chunky platform heels and headed out for the night. I felt good striding down the sidewalk, confident and full of anticipation. A couple of guys whistled or yelled compliments as they drove by, which made me smile.
When I was just around the corner from Rick's apartment, I heard someone behind me, and I looked back. A guy on a bike was close behind me. He rode past me, then turn to look at me and flashed me a huge smile...and while he was staring, he hit a rock and fell off his bike.
I went over him and leaned down. "Are you okay?" I asked.
He grinned and rubbed his knee, where his jeans were torn and he was bleeding a bit. "Damn, you are one sexy lady. Lean over a little more, will you?" Then his gaze went from my eyes, very deliberately, to my breasts.
He was a good looking guy, kind of dark and foreign looking, well-built, with a gorgeous smile and white teeth and lively, happy brown eyes. He had a bit of an accent that I couldn't place. For some reason I just instinctively liked him, and I guess I felt bad that he had hurt himself ogling me, so I played along and leaned down a bit more and put my breasts closer to his face. "You mean like this?" I replied.
His smile grew even wider. "Do you want to come to my place and play doctor?" And then he reached up, very slowly, and extended his index finger and touched my cheek. He trailed his finger down my face, down my neck, and to my left breast. When he got to the nipple, he scraped his fingernail over the fabric covering the nipple and I gasped and jerked upright, feeling a blush spread over my body and both nipples grow hard.
He got to his feet. "Very interesting," he said softly. "Your nipples say you like me." I blushed even harder and looked down. Both nipples were clearly pressing against the clingy fabric.
"I want to see your breasts." He reached for the zipper, but I stepped back and instinctively crossed my arms over my chest. I was very turned on, but scared and confused. I had never had a guy come on to me so directly and so confidently. "Not so fast," I stuttered. "I don't know what you think you are doing!"
"I would never hurt you. You are just so beautiful I can't help myself. I'm sorry if I scared you." He held out his hand for mine. "My name is Juan. And I want to do whatever you want to do."
I placed my hand in his hand, and his brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it, gently. "I'm Leah," I replied. "And I want you to slow down!"
He smiled and pulled me closer. "I don't think you know what you want." He bent his head as if to kiss me, and he smelled good, and a throbbing started between my legs. I leaned into him, my heart pounding like crazy. He whispered, "I think you want me to kiss you?"
Dumbly, I nodded. He kissed me gently, a soft, steady kiss with just a hint of tongue. While he was kissing me, he brought his hand up and took hold of the zipper pull. I could feel the weight of his hand resting on the circle of silver that could bring my zipper down from my breasts to my crotch. He didn't move his hand, but just knowing that he could practically strip me in an instant made me faint with lust.
He pulled back and looked me straight in the eye. "Please show me your breasts. Right now. Right here." Shocked, I tried to pull away, but he held me firm. Still looking me in the eye, he lowered the zipper. I stilled, petrified, and let him pull it down, past my breasts, down to my waist. Then he let go of the zipper and reached up and opened the fabric out wide to the sides of my breasts. Then he stepped back and stared at me, standing there on a public street with my breasts covered only by a thin piece of transparent lace, blushing furiously.
Suddenly I panicked. What was I thinking? I didn't even know this guy, and I was in a public place. I zipped up as quickly as I could and stumbled to the other side of the street. I looked back over my shoulder, and Juan wasn't pursuing me, he was just standing there, looking sad. "Wait," he called. "I'm sorry I scared you. But I respect that you aren't ready for this yet. When you change your mind, you call me. I'm going to leave my name and number right here." He pulled a pen and a torn piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and wrote something, then bent down and placed it under the rock that had tripped up his bike. As I stood there, debating whether to say goodbye or just walk away, he looked up and called out softly: "One last thing, Leah. You should know that what I love to do best is cunnilingus. I can lick you and make you come over and over again until you faint."
Maybe if I had had something to drink before I met Juan, or if I was more experienced or less uptight, I would have crossed back over the road and gone with him, because his words sent an electric jolt right to my clit. But it was too much and too fast. Even though I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life, I was overwhelmed and too scared to act upon it. "Sorry," I said. And I turned and walked as quickly as I could to the corner and turned down Rick's street. In front of a large apartment building in the middle of the block, several people stood out on the lawn, smoking. Music pounded from an inside apartment, and I knew I had found the party.
I strode toward the front door, fully aware that I was wet and slickery between my legs, wetter than I had ever been making out with a boyfriend. I knew my body had lubricated for Juan in a way it had never done before. I could smell a faint musk rising up from the wetness between my legs, and felt a little light-headed. I didn't know it then, but Juan had just primed my pump for an incredibly erotic night. It's amazing what the right foreplay can do to a girl....
I pushed my way into the party, which was crowded, and looked for Rick. Somebody handed me a drink, which tasted like grape Kool-Aid, but which I knew was spiked with some kind of alcohol. I drank it down quickly and asked for another one to calm my nerves. Somebody else tried to hand me a joint, but I turned it down. I didn't see Rick; in fact I didn't see anybody I knew. Finally somebody told me that Rick's apartment was upstairs from the party and that he had gone up to get more beer.
I walked up the stairs, drink in hand, and knocked on the door. It was opened by a tall, barefooted, good looking guy with dirty blonde hair and a Pepsi in his hand. He told me that Rick had gone to the store, that he was Rick's roommate, Michael, and that I should come in and wait for Rick in the apartment.