All references are to people who are over eighteen. Most names have been changed.
Growing up I was always introduced as Lucy, short for Lucinda the name of my Mum's...or was it Dad's great aunt. However, schoolfriends and those who had known me since my teen years all called me Liddy, because of my initials. That started when I spent four years in an all-girls boarding school in England, before returning to the States.
Why did my parents put me there? Because my father had a diplomatic posting to Europe and my mother was an English professor with a job in the US she was not prepared to sacrifice. She joined my father and me for vacations and I got to travel and see quite a lot of Europe and the UK. Did I love school? No. Did I hate it? No. I just lived through it. Along the way I made some good friends, whom I still see, and I think I got a good education. I certainly became a lot more 'world aware' than most of my contemporaries in the US.
Growing up I always wanted, and was encouraged, to write. However, although I have three novels, unpublished and in constant revision, I have a very necessary full-time job that I won't discuss here. I was married for five years before he cheated on me. I am now happy in a fulltime relationship but not ready to tie the knot again.
As you know what I mostly write now are erotic stories. I often like to include details of real places I have spent time in on either side of the Atlantic. Apart from that some are pure fantasy; most have elements of the truth but never 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth.' My husband and I enjoyed a vigorous sex life enlivened by shared fantasies. His favourites were 1) watching me being seduced and subsequently fucked by strangers in various settings and 2) of us making love on an almost deserted beach that became gradually more populated by pervs and voyeurs watching us, filming us, and masturbating as they moved closer.
I call these his fantasies because in origin they were, but we both enjoyed them. Our sex life was all the better for it, as long as any infidelity stayed in the realm of fantasy. When I found him fucking a work colleague, that was the end. I had taken our marriage vows seriously and had no tolerance for his breaking our oaths of life-long fidelity.
Before I met my current partner, I had a number of years outside a stable relationship and expanded my experiences and horizons and I regret none of these as I better understand the range of human sexuality. My current partner and I enjoy these and other fantasies and are more open in our thinking but do nothing without the other's full consent.
More on my background. Being at an all-girls school and vacationing with my parents I had few unrestricted encounters with boys. I do remember a 'show and don't tell' while swimming at Lake Como, but I was nineteen before I was in a world where boys and girls mixed as equals. I spent that summer back in the States working at McDonalds. I really didn't know anybody and felt quite out of place at first, but I did meet boys and they were these strange and wondrous creatures. For the most part they were polite but most liked to brag about themselves and hit on me.
I confess I liked the attention especially when I met a quieter boy who seemed more interested in me. That was when I first got intimate with a boy. We were soon kissing and moving through the bases until I was letting him fondle my breasts and I gripped my first erect cock. What a thrill! There was no way I was going to 'go all the way.' I was scared stiff of getting pregnant for one thing and also held onto the idea of being a virgin bride.
After a few dates, I did start giving him hand jobs and letting him touch my breasts. Once when he took me out in his dad's car, we parked, and I gave him head. I didn't enjoy it, it tasted hairy and smelly, and I vowed to give no more blowjobs, unless the guy showered or washed thoroughly first. A resolution I have stuck to ever since.
At the end of the summer, it was back to university in England. I had the necessary exams and anyway I felt more at home in Europe and loved that a whole world lay just a few hours away across the channel. This was the year before 9-11 and travel was cheaper and simpler. My parents were generous and supportive.
In my first term I fell into an easy existence of studying, visiting pubs, and going to dances and parties. Many of the boys who took me out tended to expect a hand job at the end of the evening. They'd often catch the cum in tissues or handkerchiefs, or in toilet paper they'd stored in their pockets in anticipation. I gathered from the British girls I hung out with that this was customary if you liked the boy and had had a nice time, and in many cases, if the evening had gone well and ended with kisses, I obliged.
Honestly, I liked the feel of guy's cocks and the sensation of bringing them off would get my juices flowing. I could sense their mounting excitement and the tightening of their ball sack as the moment approached. Mostly this happened in their cars if they had them. I learned early to point their cocks away from me as one time some cum landed on my skirt. Most guys shot what I would have guessed was two or maybe three tablespoons of cum, so I was quite surprised when one guy shot a first spurt that hit his windshield and dashboard and just kept spurting. He could have easily filled a cup, I think.
After a while I got a little braver and I allowed a few to feel me up, not just my nipples and bare breasts but inside my panties. I liked the feeling as they stroked my clit, but I did not let them penetrate me even with a finger. I was always worried as I started to feel I might lose control. I went out on several dates with a nice Scottish boy and one day we went for a drive in the country. We drove quite a way and parked and walked into a quiet clearing by a lake.
Although it was early November the air temperature was in the mid-sixties Fahrenheit and the sun was hot. He stripped off and jumped in the lake and dared me to do the same. Like an idiot I did so. Supposedly, it was fed by warm springs, but it was absolutely freezing. When we got out, he produced a towel from his backpack and rubbed me dry while he stood shivering. I dressed quickly as he towelled off.