Comic Con

I was nineteen when I met Colin. It was at Comic Con and he had this really neat Star Trek uniform. By a coincidence I was also there as a Star Trek character. I'd made my costume myself and I'd done a damn good job of it if I do say so myself.

I naturally approached Colin and we started chatting. It turned out that he'd also made his own costume with his father's help.

"Father's help?" I asked.

"Yeah," Colin assured me. "He's real good with his hands. He does carpentry and glazing but he can turn his hand to tailoring when required. He's made me a few costumes over the years."

I'd tentatively touched on the subject of his mother, but it seemed she was deceased. Apparently she had lost an argument with a train when he was just a child.

Our costumes matched so well that we just naturally stayed together for the whole Comic Con and a number of people asked to have their photos taken with us. We were even asked by the organisers to pose for a couple of shots for their web site.

We had a great time and I spent most of the weekend with Colin.

No, not the nights, if you're wondering. I wasn't yet ready for that sort of thing. Colin's a great guy but I wasn't into sexual experimentation at that stage, especially only having known him for that weekend.

It turned out that we lived quite close to each other. It was surprising that we hadn't actually met before locally, but when you consider the map it was quite reasonable. I was close to one suburb shopping centre and station while Colin was closer to one in the opposite direction. We'd spent years heading away from each other.

After that weekend we continued to see each other. I won't say we were actually girlfriend and boyfriend, but rather two people with similar hobbies and tastes who liked each other's company. We friend zoned each other, I guess.

I got to meet his father. Talk about a study in contrasts. Colin I would describe as a gentle person. He's smart, really smart. He's studying to be a doctor. He actually wants to be a brain surgeon. A weird ambition, in my opinion, but he'll probably do it.

His father, on the other hand, looks and sounds like a bit of a thug. But for all his looks, it's plain that he's the reason for Colin's brains and his manual dexterity. I've seen some of the work that his father does and it's amazing. There's a touch of real artistry behind those thuggish looks.

Before I knew it a year had rolled past and there was another Comic Con coming up. Colin and I had decided to turn up as a matched pair again. I'd finally finished my costume and took it around to Colin's place to show him so that we could compare it with his new one.

When I got there Colin was out, but George, his father was there. I explained the reason I'd come and he asked to see the costume.

"Since I'll be doing most of the work on Colin's, I might as well know what I'm going to have to match it to," he said.

I unwrapped it and laid it out on the table for George to consider. He nodded a couple of times and then asked to see it on.

"I work a lot better when I've seen a 3D image of an object," he said. "If you care to change into it, it will give me a better idea of how it's supposed to look. I'll take a couple of photos, as well. You can change in the bathroom."

I saw no real reason not to. It wasn't as though I'd be modelling a bikini or anything like that. I nipped into the bathroom and came out to model.

George checked it out pretty carefully. He made a couple of suggestions as to where minor improvements could be made and told me how to go about them. He took some photos, front, back and side.

Then he lowered the camera and said, "That's fine, as far as it goes. Can you take the uniform off now?"

I said, "Sure. I'll be right back," and then I got a shock.

"No, you misunderstand me, Sharon," he said, his voice perfectly normal. "I want you to take it off while I take a few more photos of you."

I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, but George just stood there, patiently waiting.

"I'm not sure just what you mean," I said, a touch nervously. I was quite sure he didn't really mean to take photos of me in my undies.

"I think it's time for a Star Trek moment," he told me. "I want you to take off your uniform while I take a few more shots and then I am going to boldly go where no man has gone before."

George was propositioning me. Not even that, really. To be blunt, he wasn't asking. He was telling me to get undressed as he was going to screw me.

I may have been a virgin but I was an adult and I wasn't going to beat about the bush.

"You're not taking photos of me getting undressed," I said flatly. "Or even after I've got undressed," I added, when I saw he was about to suggest just that.

George just shrugged, smiled and put the camera down. He settled back on the couch, waiting. What, I wondered, was he waiting for?

I reviewed what I'd just said and my stomach flipped. I had effectively agreed to get undressed, and if I did that then George would expect to...

The thought of stripping and then submitting to George's attention raised conflicting feelings in me. Sheer fright that I'd be naked while George made love to me and a burning excitement that told me I'd be naked and George would be making love to me.

"I'm Colin's girlfriend," I said quietly. "He's your son. You can't make moves on your son's girlfriend."

"You're a girl and a friend, but not his girlfriend. You're not sexually interested in him and he's not sexually interested in you. Well, he made be interested, but not any more than he's attracted to any pretty girl.

If you were seriously interested in him you wouldn't be talking about it now. You would have just walked away. The reason you're still here is because you're excited by what I'm going to do to you. Scared, possibly, but excited.

Do you want me to help you get undressed?"

Blast the man. He was right. I was only interested in George as a casual friend and as a Comic Con partner. And what sort of nerve did he have thinking I wanted to have sex with him? It was kind of galling to think that he was probably right. I could feel that exciting heat burning brighter and my tummy was full of expectant butterflies.

I was shocked to realise that I was going to do it. I was going to get undressed. That didn't mean that I was going to let him have sex with me, mind, but it did mean that I'd be standing naked in front of a man and could see how it affected him.

I started slowly, lifting the tunic over my head, watching George as I did so. If he'd shown the least sign of triumph I'd have been out of there like a shot, but all he did was take a deep breath and watch me. It was fun. I'd never had a man's eyes fixed so firmly upon me before.

The slacks went next. Or nearly. I had them halfway down when I found I couldn't get them off until my boots were off. I don't know where I got the nerve. I stood in front of George, slacks half down, only just covered by a miniscule pair of panties (I love sexy undies) and asked him to pull my boot off.

I have to give him full marks. He took them off, one after the other, and not once did he look me full in the crotch or boobs. I was impressed.

With the boots gone, the slacks followed quickly. I was standing there in me panties and bra, wondering if I dared take them off. The expectant look on George's face seemed to be saying how could I dare not to take them off.

What first? Take of my bra and my breasts would be swinging around when I took my panties off. I thought not. I could slip off my panties and be turned slightly away from George at the same time so he wouldn't see anything.

Turning sidewards and my panties dropped off. Reaching around to unhook the bra and then let it drop down my arms, freeing my breasts and giving George something to look at other than my mound.

Turning to face George with one hand over my breasts and one over my mound. For all the good that did. George just reached out and straightened my arms, putting them by my sides. Then he sat back and looked at me.

If you've ever had a man just look at you while you're naked you'll know what I mean. I've never been so aware of my body, ever. I'm not sure what he was seeing, but from the look on his face it wasn't the body I was used to seeing in the mirror.

The excitement coursing through me was effectively telling me that I could forget any idea I might have had of not submitting to George. I'd already surrendered and the rest was a matter of time.

George pulled me over to him. I have to admit I was hot and eager and if he'd just whipped off his pants and taken me I probably wouldn't have protested. Then again, I might have panicked. Who knows?

What George actually did was to settle me onto his lap and start kissing me. He was a good kisser, and I enjoyed the feel of his mouth on mine. I didn't even flinch when his hand closed over my breast and started playing with it.

From there things progressed slowly and far too fast for my peace of mind. My breasts were damp from where George had been tasting them, the nipples tight. I'd never been more aware of the fact that I had breasts and they seemed both swollen and sensitive.

That was nothing to how I felt further down. Fingers were dancing over my pussy, every touch seeming to ignite another little fire in it. I was so wet you'd think that would lower the temperature a bit, but not a chance. George's fingers dipped inside me, touching me where I'd never been touched before, leaving me terrified and wanting more.

I was suddenly discovering the huge difference between theoretical knowledge about sex and holding a man's erect cock in your hand, knowing what he was going to do with it. In sex education you can look at a ruler and measure off six inches and say that's the average size and that doesn't look so big. In practice you're holding this thing and you're thinking a ruler is very skinny and a cock is not, and if that's six inches I'll eat the damn thing. Then you realise you might be asked to do just that.

And how did I come to be holding George's cock, anyway. I don't remember him taking his trousers off but suddenly I just seemed to find his cock pressing against me and then I was holding it, tracing it with my fingers, trying to assess what it was like.

"If I say no, what happens," I gasped, terrified that George would say too late.

"Then I'll slow down and stop," he told me. "Do you want me to stop?"

I nodded desperately. I was rapidly losing my nerve. George just nodded calmly and moved his hand slightly. He didn't exactly stop what he was doing, he just seemed to be doing it slower.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Slowing down," he said. "You're still worked up and to just stop will leave you feeling a bit out of sorts. It will be better for you if I just ease off and let your excitement slowly die down."

His hands were still touching me and the excitement was still burning and I suddenly realised that I didn't want it to die down. I wanted it to blaze and burn me. I wanted to know and feel.

"It's alright, George," I said. "Don't stop."

The son-of-a-bitch shook his head.

"You said you wanted me to stop so I'd better. You may change your mind again if I continue and that wouldn't be fair to either of us."

He couldn't say no. I didn't think men were allowed to say no. It wasn't fair. I needed him. He'd lit the fires and it was up to him to do something about them.

"You can't stop," I protested. "You have to go on. I want you to take me. Do it now so that I won't change my mind, but just do it!"

Next moment the world seem to spin about and I was standing in front of George, his hands on my bottom. He was sitting on the couch, his cock prominent, and he was tugging me lightly towards him.

All my butterflies came galloping back. I knew what he expected me to do. I was to straddle him and lower my virgin self onto him. I wasn't backing out again. I moved onto the couch, facing him, knees either side of him. Easing forward I could feel his cock brushing against my lips.

At least, George was willing to do his part. His hand reached between my legs and eased my lips apart while he moved the head of his cock between them. I could feel it now, pressing into me.

I was excited and I started pressing down, wanting George to come up inside me. I want to know, to feel.

I could feel him pressing against me and then something tore.

It hurt, and I squealed. Suddenly, I didn't want to play this game any more. I tried to scramble up of George's lap, but the brute wouldn't let me.

"No," he told me firmly. "If you quit now it's all pain for no gain. You'll find the pain is easing even while I'm talking to you. Just go ahead with what you were doing and see how it goes."

I was scared and trembling slightly, but I did as George said. He was right, and I could feel the pain fading back to a memory, but the earlier excitement was returning, and it was coming back fast.

I pressed down, feeling George rise up within me. He seemed to be stretching me all out of shape inside, but he was going deeper and deeper. I could feel the excitement burning in me again and I've never been so acutely aware of anything as I was of that cock slowly filling me.

I finally found myself settled upon George's lap, impaled on his erection. Average size is six inches, they say. They don't tell you that once it's inside you each of those inches feels like several. My lower half seemed to be just full of cock and I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it.

I found out pretty fast. George's hands came up and settled on my breasts and he started teasing them again. At the same time he was nibbling at the side of my neck and then I felt him rise slightly as though trying to push his cock even deeper into me.

A couple of more pushes and I finally caught on. If I seemed a trifle slow, you have to remember that this was all new to me. I started pushing against George when he pressed up at me and then lifting myself away from him as he relaxed.

Very soon I found that I was moving up and down his pole, and the sensations being raised by the friction of it rubbing inside me, well, all I can say is wow. I was developing a very rapid appreciation for why people like sex. It was fun.

I bounced happily on George, feeling his cock do all sorts of delicious things to me. The earlier excitement had come hurrying back only to be swamped and left behind by this exciting new adventure. I seemed to be in complete control of what we were doing, although I realised in hindsight that George was subtly directing the entire thing.

(I also realised that the sneaky bastard had had no intention of stopping when I asked him to. He simply agreed and kept on teasing me until my excitement built to a point where I was just carried away. And then he'd made me practically beg for it.)

I continued bouncing in fine style, sliding up and down George just as neat as you please. I was starting to gasp, as I was putting a lot of energy into what I was doing, and my nerves seemed to be getting themselves wound tighter all the time.

George suddenly felt as though he was hitting me a lot harder, and I found the pace was accelerating, and I couldn't have slowed down if I tried. The excitement and tensions I'd been feeling were burning hotter and I could feel myself just catching fire.

My gasping grew into a scream and then I really did catch fire and everything seemed to be burning around me while I screamed my head off.

I finally settled down, feeling wonderfully relaxed but also frightfully sticky and wet, and it wasn't just sweat making me that way. I had a vague recollection of George letting loose inside me, spraying me, and it dawned on me just what was trickling down my leg. (As well as a bit of blood from a torn hymen.)

George whisked me into the bathroom and joined me under the shower, bathing me as though I was a baby. (Apart from a few very adult flourishes that he apparently couldn't resist, not that I was complaining.)

George was sketching out the costume he and Colin are making for Comic Con when Colin finally got home. Before I left, Colin had a quiet word with me.

"You may want to be careful about being alone with dad," he told me. "I think he likes you and, if you're not careful, he might make a pass. If he does, just ignore it. He won't be offended."