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Hi, my name is Kat Warbington, and I am, without question, one of the most sexual eighteen year olds that you will find outside of the porn industry.
What can I say. I love sex and everything connected with it. Somehow, despite being one horny teenager, I managed to stay a virgin until I was 18. Maybe it was all the porn that I got my older brother to buy for me. Anyway, a few days after my eighteenth birthday, I drove up to Fresno, and offered my virginity to my friend Jason, who I’ve fantasized about since I was 14. He wasn’t too sure at first, but I told him it was my birthday present to myself, and let’s be serious now – how many 22 year old guys are going to turn down sex with a damn hot 18-year-old virgin?
Anyway, I loved it. It hurt a bit, being my first time and all – and being that the dumbass slipped and fell as he was entering me – but it was still fantastic. After that, I became nearly insatiable. The only problem was, guys were intimidated by me. They would not have sex with me. In fact, they wouldn’t even look me in the eye. And so, frustrated and pissed off, shortly before Valentine’s Day of 2005, I stormed into a sex shop in Pasadena armed with two hundred dollars from my savings account.
I had a very happy Valentine’s Day.
But that’s irrelevant. What is very relevant is the basketball game that I went to three days after Valentine’s Day.
Glendale High vs. Pasadena High. Our two schools hated and despised each other with every fiber of our souls. Always have, always will. This year, the grudge match was at Pasadena – my school.
The Glendale players got booed mercilessly as they entered the gymnasium. I was booing heartily – until Glendale’s shooting guard was introduced.
“At guard, number 42, 18 year-old senior, Karl Grieg.”
I looked at him – and my heart stopped. HE WAS FUCKING GORGEOUS. He stood just over 6’2″, didn’t look like he had an ounce of fat on him, and appeared to have been sculpted by God. He was perfectly formed, from what I could see. His blonde hair stopped just short of his shoulders, and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked around at the booing Pasadena fans.
Oooh, there it was, the tingling that I experienced every time I saw a guy who I wanted in bed. Oh yes, Glendale Cardinal or no, I wanted Karl Grieg in my bed. In fact, I wanted him in more than just my bed.
Of course, when the Glendale starting lineup ended and Pasadena began being introduced, I immediately pushed such thoughts from my head. What kind of a traitor was I?!
The game was fucking awesome. Neck and neck the whole way, Pasadena High was up by one point with seven seconds left. Glendale High called timeout to get the ball in at half court.
They inbounded the ball directly to Karl Grieg, who spun from about fifteen feet out and jumped. Oh shit, he’d been hitting from there all night. There was no way he could miss…
UNLESS, our center flew in from out of nowhere and swatted the ball away down the court!
As the ball bounced toward our goal, time expired. Pasadena High had won this year, and we could rub that in Glendale’s face until the next year… or until we met in the state playoffs.
I felt kind of bad, though, that the man who would be the object of my fantasies that night would end up being Glendale’s scapegoat for this game. He deserved better than that. In fact… he deserved me. Oh God, how I wanted him.
But as I looked around the gym for him, I realized he had disappeared. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. He was gone.
Well, Pasadena and Glendale Highs did not meet in the playoffs. I was disappointed. I had been hoping to see more of the beautiful Mr. Karl Grieg. But alas, luck was not with me. I dropped back into my frustrating pattern of intimidating guys and having to please myself with my wide array of sex toys bought back before Valentine’s Day. As good as I was able to make myself feel, it just wasn’t as fun without a partner.
One day, I called up Jason and talked him into reenacting our night together through phone sex. He obliged, and seemed to have fun. I very much doubt that he enjoyed it as much as I did, though. It was good for me, a little better than just your standard masturbation, but it still left me wanting. I wanted Karl Grieg in the world’s worst way!
It was funny how it happened. In late March, I went to Glendale, to the Galleria. While I was there, I darted across Brand St. to a little used record store there that I had been to before. And when I walked in…
Who should be sitting behind the counter, obviously employed there, but Karl Grieg. He was holding an acoustic guitar, playing softly and singing the Beatles’ Yesterday to himself. And it sounded pretty damn good, too.
Oh God. That just made me want him more. Not only was he gorgeous, but he could sing and play the Beatles as well? I almost came right there in the store. But I quickly regained my composure.
I headed for the Beatles rack, and searched for something I didn’t have. Oh hell, this canlı bahis wasn’t going to work. I had everything… wait a minute…
The White Album on vinyl? No way! I didn’t have that – I had it on CD, but not vinyl. I picked it up and looked at the price tag. $54.00. No big deal, I’d recently gotten $10,000 as a signing bonus from the United States Air Force.
I picked up the Beatles’ masterpiece and headed for the checkout counter. “Find everything you were looking for?” he asked. His tenor voice sounded like silk, gliding across my eardrums.
Yes, but there’s something ELSE I want! “Uh, yeah,” I stammered. SHIT!
“The Beatles, huh?” he asked, smiling.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I love them.”
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “they’re probably one of the greatest bands of all time, but they sure did have issues. You know that Paul McCartney re-recorded the drums on most of the songs on this album because he thought Ringo sucked?”
Oh God, yes I did know that! He knew it too?!
“Yeah,” I said. “But that’s not the worst thing about it all. I’m still convinced that Yoko Ono is responsible for the end of the Beatles.”
“Oh yeah,” he replied bitterly. “Fucking bitch, she had to pull John out. You know, I think if it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have been shot back in 1980.”
And that was how I spent the next thirty minutes talking to Karl Grieg about the Beatles. And how, when his shift ended, we went across the street to In’n’Out for milkshakes. I felt a little goofy, but damn. I was talking to this beautiful gift from God about the Beatles, and maybe he was seducible.
After about an hour at In’n’Out, he asked a question that made me really feel stupid. “So, what’s your name?”
Oh my God, I had been talking to him for the last hour and a half and I hadn’t told him my name. “I’m Kat Warbington,” I said. “And you’re Karl Grieg, right?”
He looked puzzled. “Uh, yeah,” he replied. “Have you been stalking me?” A little smile began to form on his face.
“Oh, no!” I replied. “I just go to Pasadena High, and when we played you guys last month, I saw you during the starting lineups and just thought you were incredibly hot…”
OH MY GOD. OH NO, I DID NOT JUST SAY THAT.
And then he started laughing. Oh, how he laughed. And then I felt really stupid. Here, I had just embarrassed myself, and now he was laughing at me.
“You know what, fuck you!” I snapped. “I don’t need this!”
He stopped right away. “Oh, no, don’t go!” he said quickly. “No, no, it just embarrasses me when things like that happen, but they’re funny at the same time.”
I hesitated, and he took that as his cue. “You know, I’ve never met anybody quite like you, somebody who loves the Beatles like you seem to, somebody who goes to school at my sworn enemy but doesn’t care, somebody so… attractive…”
He kind of let the last word trail off. Well, he had me at “you know,” not to rip off Jerry Maguire or anything. And that got me to sit right back down.
Well, we sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then, apparently, the lightbulb went on in his head.
“You want to see a really cool part of Glendale?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
And so, a few minutes later, we were driving out Chevy Chase Blvd., toward Pasadena. Despite living in Pasadena all my life, I had never driven down this particular stretch of road. “Wow,” I said. “These are some really nice houses!”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Some really wealthy people live out here. You know, George Harrison had a vacation home out here.”
“No he didn’t!” I replied in disbelief.
“Oh yes,” he said with a smile. “Oh, yes, he did. Trust me. I’m a Beatles nut, and having one of them have a vacation home practically in my backyard was absolutely awesome.”
Then he slowed, pulled over, and stopped in front of an absolutely ginormous house. He got out of the car and headed up the steps toward the house. Slowly, I got out, and looked up at him, unsure of what to do.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s alright!”
I followed him up the steps to the house, where he used a key on his ring to let himself in. “Wow,” I said as I stepped in. “This house is unbelievable. Do you live here?”
“Oh, no,” he replied. “This is Coach’s house. He’s just out of town right now, so I’m house-sitting for him. Make yourself at home!”
I picked a couch in the living room and had a seat. This house was absolutely amazing! I mean, we’re talking like four to five million dollars worth of amazing here. “Do you want something to drink?” I heard Karl ask from the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah, if he’s got Coke,” I replied.
Karl appeared a moment later, with a glass full of Coke for me, and a glass of some clear liquid for himself. What the hell? I asked myself.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” I asked.
“It’s water,” he replied. “What did you think it was?”
“Oh, uh…” I forced out as I began to turn red.
“No, I swore off caffeine and alcohol a long time ago,” he said with a smile. “They are bahis siteleri not exactly conducive to performance as a basketball player.”
“How about performance otherwise?”
OH GOD. It slipped out before I even realized it. He looked at me curiously.
“Meaning…” he let it hang there.
“Uh, guitar, of course!” I replied quickly.
“Ah,” he said with a smile, looking at me as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. “Well, I find caffeine gives me the jitters, and alcohol really slows down motor skills. Neither is really good for a guitar player.
“And of course,” he continued, the smile slowly spreading, “when you talk about… other areas… too much caffeine can cause things to, shall we say, happen to quickly, where as alcohol can just cause things… not to work.”
My heart rate started to increase. His smile was intoxicating, and when he moved to sit next to me on the couch, I almost started hyperventilating. When he put an arm around my shoulders, I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down.
“You know, Kat,” he said, “you’re not like most girls from Pasadena High. You’re very nice. In fact… you’re very beautiful as well.”
Forget calming down. There was no way that was going to happen as long as he was talking to me like that.
“Thankyou,” I forced out, as it all came out kind of like one word. Calm down, Kat, calm down! I thought to myself.
That was when my back spasmed, forcing my shoulders bolt upright and causing my face to contort in pain. Karl pulled his arm away and looked at me in concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I gasped. “It’s just, I was in a pretty bad car accident a couple of years ago, and my back is kind of messed up. Sometimes it tightens up pretty badly.”
“Hmmm,” he mused. “Well, I could take care of that.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “One thing that ex-girlfriends always tell me that they miss about me is my so-called ‘magical hands’. I guess that playing guitar for the last ten years has given me the ability to manipulate my hands pretty well.”
“Well in that case, be my guest!” I said, perhaps a little too brightly.
I grabbed a pillow and put it at the end of the couch to support my head. Then I laid down on my front. The instant he touched my neck –
Oh God, it was like I was in heaven. He really did have magic hands. Every place h touched, it was as if he set my nerve endings on fire. He delicately moved his way down my neck, and then across my shoulders. Moving back toward the center of my back, he gently manipulated the muscle along each one of my vertebrae, sending a wave of relaxation through the tightened muscles in the center of my back.
This was, without question, the most incredible back massage I had ever received. When he reached the small of my back, I figured that he would either 1) stop (which would be most disappointing!) or 2) head back up toward my shoulders. Well, I was 3) wrong.
When he reached the small of my back, I felt him hesitate briefly… and then I felt him gently place his fingertips against my buttocks. Now, with any other guy (with the possible exceptions of Jason Garrett, Paul McCartney, and Brad Pitt), I would’ve stopped him right there, but this just felt way too good, so I let him continue to do his thing.
As he massaged my butt, several times his fingers brushed within centimeters of my vagina – but never closer than that. The stimulation so close, though, was definitely starting to arouse me.
When he had worked his way down to the bottom of my butt cheeks, he began working on the back of my thighs. Oh God, it hurt at first, as he massaged my extremely tight hamstrings, but as they loosened, it felt oh so good. And then, when he reached my calves, I don’t know what exactly he did, but it was somehow just the perfect amount of stimulus to cause my back to arch and my neck to jerk back a little. I don’t think he really noticed, but I certainly did.
As he reached my ankles, I felt his hands begin to slow, and then stop. Oh no, he couldn’t be done! What a disappointment!
He knelt next to me. “Feel better?” he asked with a smile.
I turned my face to his, with a little smile. “Uh-huh,” I slowly said, nodding. Then, without warning, I pulled him to me, kissing him.
He seemed a little shocked at first, as if he didn’t know how to respond, but then he kissed me back. After a couple of minutes of just straight up kissing, he slowly snaked his tongue inside my mouth. Let me tell you, if that boy could do magical things with his hands, then his tongue was even better! And he was just kissing me, for God’s sake!
After a few minutes, though, I stopped him. He looked a bit puzzled as I pulled away from him. “Karl,” I said, “I want you.”
“Want me?” he said. “What do you mean?”
“Uh…” Ooh, this was bad. I started to blush.
“I want to have sex with you,” I said, getting it out quickly.
“Oh,” he replied. “Wow. I, uh, I really don’t know what to say.”
I must’ve looked bahis şirketleri really disappointed at this, because he quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, Kat, I think you’re incredible. I mean, I’m really very attracted to you. The only thing is… I’m a virgin.”
OH. That would explain it.
“You see,” he said, “my parents are Mormon, and I was raised believing that if I had sex before marriage, I would never make it to the level of the gods.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, staring at my shoes. “I never meant to say anything that could make you uncomfortable. It’s just… I mean…” Eject, Kat, eject! Black Hawk going down!
That’s when he saved the day. “I left the Mormon church a year ago,” he said, with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I’ve just been waiting for the right person to come along to lose my virginity with.”
I looked up at him. “And believe me, I would love to lose my virginity to you, Kat Warbington. You’re beautiful, you love the Beatles, and you’re an incredibly nice person. In fact, it would be a privilege.”
In the words of the famous Latin American soccer announcer, GOOOOOOOOOOOAL!
He pulled me in close to him and kissed me once more. As he did so, I slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. With only five buttons, though, it didn’t take very long, and I slipped it off his torso, revealing tanned, sculpted muscles that had been toned by the basketball season. When I saw that, I almost started drooling. Gently, I kissed each of his pecs, then worked my way down his chest, kissing all the way down.
When I reached his waist, I undid his belt, and then his jeans, and slowly slid them down, revealing his boxers. I reached up and gently slid them off, revealing…
Well, an okay penis. I mean, yeah, I’ll admit, my only comparison is Jason, and he was only a little bigger than “average” size, but Karl was smaller than him. A little disappointing, but that was alright. I kissed the tip, and then, testing the range of my vocal-training-developed throat muscles, started taking it inch by inch down my throat – until I reached the base. Now that was something that I hadn’t been able to do with Jason.
Karl definitely enjoyed it, but I didn’t do it very long, because I didn’t want him cumming before we had even fucked, and I definitely did not want him cumming in my mouth. I stood back up, and whispered in his ear. “Your turn.”
Well, he was not as good at anything as me – perhaps because it was his first time – but he made up for it in how gentle and sweet he was. He gently lifted my top up over my head, removing it from my body, and then reached around back, and showing his inexperience, used both hands to undo my bra.
Gently, he sucked on the nipple of my left breast for a moment, and then the right one. That was a nice bit of stimulus right there. Then, with clumsy but still gentle kisses, he kissed his way down across my stomach to my waistline. He hooked a finger under the hem of my skirt and pulled it down to my ankles.
I generally go commando downstairs, and today was no exception. As my skirt was removed, it revealed my neatly trimmed, now very wet, pubic area. And then, Karl tried his hand at oral sex. Yeah.
When he stood back up, he had a look of concern on his face. “Was I okay?” he asked. No, you sucked, I could’ve said, but what I really said was, “Well, Karl, there’s room for improvement, but I think it was pretty good for your first time.” You know what? It had kept me stimulated, so he gets props for that.
Well, since it was his first time, I didn’t trust him to try to do the insertion – or any of the work, for that matter, so I said, “Karl, lie down in the couch.” He did so. I swung a leg over him, and straddled him. His cock was as big as it was going to get, pointed skyward, aimed directly at my pussy.
“Alright, Karl,” I said, “since this is your first time, I’m going to do all the work for you. Just lay back and enjoy the ride.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he nearly shouted, a look of concern crossing his face. “What about protection?”
Of course. With a smile on my face, I said, “Karl, there’s this medical miracle called orthotricyclene. It’s 99.9% effective. On top of that, I know that I’m clean, because I just had a physical a couple of weeks ago, and I know for a fact that you’re clean, because I’m your first.”
“Oh, okay,” he replied, not sounding entirely convinced. However, he laid his head back down, and relaxed.
Ever so slowly, I lowered myself down. When my labia made contact with the head of his penis, I looked at him. “Last chance,” I said. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he replied softly. “Let’s do this.”
And then, before he could back down, I dropped myself the length of his cock, sinking it into myself up to his balls. Now, when a guy is told that it’s not the size, it’s what he does with it, that is very true. And now, Karl’s cock was going to do whatever I wanted it to, so I was sure that I would enjoy it.
To look at his face, though, you’d think he was having an epileptic seizure. As I gently rocked up and down on his cock, his face contorted in the strangest fashions. Odd, convoluted moans slipped out from between his lips… but I told myself that these were sure signs that he was enjoying himself.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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