Actually my name is Alison, and I suppose you could call me "Mrs Rashers" – kind of. Since my beloved has already used this site to show off about his incestuous early sex life ("Happy New Year") I thought I may as well use his account to do the same thing. If he bothers to read this then he'll learn something about me that I haven't told him before. And you might see what we've got in common.
The thing is, it's not just young boys who get horny and can't get laid. I was 21 and a virgin, and definitely not through choice. Like Paul, or "Rashers", before me, I was desperate and lonely. And there's no big mystery about why - unlike Paul, no-one except my mum ever called me pretty. The absolute best thing you could say about my face was that it was ordinary. I had bad acne. My hair was mousy and dull. All I had going for me - and excuse the lack of modesty here – was a really great body.
By which I mean very big tits, a flat belly, long slim legs and what these days is called a bubble butt. I'd got used to the fact that boys and grown men (even my own dad and little brother, for God's sake) would always talk to my tits, not to me. Maybe I should have been offended but usually I was just glad of the attention. I wore tight sweaters and tee shirts, usually without a bra, and tiny skirts or jeans a size too small just to get noticed. I learned what I hoped was a sexy, wiggling walk and kept my fingernails long and painted. None of it helped – my face, combined with a stellar IQ and being nearly six feet tall, meant that the only boys who ever asked me out were the geeks who were too shy to do anything except gawp at my chest.
I was reading maths at university and should have been a star student, but I was struggling because all I could think about was getting fucked. I'd never seen a real cock, never mind touched one, but I imagined plenty. I would sit for hours through whole lectures and seminars wondering what it would feel like to have a massive one rammed into the aching space between my legs, or what one would taste like in my mouth, or what one would look like pumping cum out all over my tits, or whether I would enjoy having all three at the same time.
Things got worse when I went home at night. I shared a tiny flat with Janice, who was studying beauty therapy and who I had a huge crush on. She was blonde and gorgeous and petite and not very clever, and when she practiced making me up or doing my hair I thrilled to her touch. It was the only physical contact I ever had and I would always have to fold my arms tightly across my chest so that Janice wouldn't see how hard she made my nipples.
She was living exactly the life I wanted to lead. In particular, Janice had one hell of a sex life. She got fucked whenever she wanted by whatever pretty boy took her fancy, and she didn't care what anyone said about her. Once when she was drunk she told me that she'd even had an affair with a woman, a teacher who had seduced her in the shower after a hockey game. I said something like "How awful for you", but Janice just looked at me and giggled.
Eventually she found a boy she really liked. I can't remember his name but I do know he was seriously cute and stayed three or four nights a week. Then I would have to lie in bed listening while, about two feet away on the other side of a very flimsy wall, the delectable Janice had noisy multiple orgasms and begged for more.
And yes, of course I masturbated. Maybe not as much as the young Rashers, but enough. While Janice panted and moaned and the boy talked dirty to her I would keep my longest finger buried inside my pussy, slowly going round and round and in and out. When she finally came for what I guessed would be the last time that night I slid my slippery finger out and brushed it as fast as I could backwards and forwards across my clitoris. I came with my face buried in my pillow, so as not to make too much noise. Afterwards I would bring my hand up to my face so that I could smell myself. Sometimes I would put the wet finger into my mouth to taste myself.
This went on for about a month, then the boy dumped her. Janice was inconsolable – weepy, not eating, the works. I told her that if there was I anything I could do to help I was there for her. In fact I was suffering too – now all I could hear from Janice's room at night was her crying, which made it impossible for me to masturbate.
I was going up the wall with frustration. Then, one humid June Sunday afternoon when Janice was out, I came out of the shower and didn't bother to get dressed. Hot, bored and naked, I decided to amuse myself by going through her things.
I toyed with her clothes and make up and looked at some photos she had taken at the beach of the boy in wet swimming trunks. I let one hand slip down between my legs. Then, at the back of a drawer, I found something interesting. It looked like a penis except it was black, plastic, eight inches long and buzzed when you flicked a switch.
I stared at it nervously for a minute, but I knew exactly what I wanted to do. First I put it in my mouth and practiced sucking it while I looked at myself in the mirror and idly played with my nipples, thinking how good I looked.
Then I lost my virginity – to Janice's vibrator, lying naked on her bed with it switched on and shoved in all the way as I came and came and came for about fifteen minutes. My back arched so much that I pulled a muscle. I think I eventually screamed before it finally became too much and I had to turn the thing off and throw it across the room.
When I tried to stand up I couldn't even walk properly, but I'd never felt better. And I'd never been so ashamed. My first lover had been a plastic toy. Sobbing, I cleaned myself up, washed the dildo and put it back where I'd found it.
A few more days passed. Janice stayed miserable and celibate, which meant I did too. I'd never known her to go so long without cock. And then it happened - the first of the big, bad sexual encounters I'm going to share with you.
It was the day after the last day of term, and everyone was getting ready to go home for the summer. For some reason or other neither Janice or I were leaving until the next day, so we sat around the flat watching crappy day time TV.
Suddenly Janice turned off the television and said "I know! I can practice my massage technique on you. Take your top off and lie on the floor."
I should have played a bit harder to get, but five seconds later I was lying face down with a bare back and legs, only my worn old denim mini skirt covering my bum. Janice found her baby oil and trickled some down my spine. I bit my lip and tried not to moan as she rubbed it deep into my skin with surprisingly strong hands.
