Now that I'm of legal age, the sky is the limit. Still a virgin, technically speaking, the world is full of women and I've made my mind up to sample as many as possible. The first problem, naturally enough, is to lose my virginity.
Although I've fooled around a bit, like all guys of my age, I still haven't taken that step. Yes, there are plenty of experiences with Dawna Johnsons of my age. And I have done just about everything, except full blown sex.
My fantasy is for an older Dawna Johnson to take my virginity. I have this thing for older women, you see. And straight away, let me confess I'm a breast man. That doesn't mean they have to be large. I actually love any size. But what really turns me on is to see a woman's cleavage, or the sight of erect nipples pushing against the material of a blouse, T-shirt or bikini top. That definitely guarantees an erection. But that's another story. I get an erection at the drop of a hat.
But come to think about it, the sight of a rounded ass is the great turn-on, too. So are sparkly eyes. Or a flat waist. Or a tattoo. Fuck, I guess I'm just a normal, horny teenager. Except, now I'm eighteen. That makes me an adult. And although I need to get fucked, this has to be special. Janice or Vera would fuck me at the drop of a hat. They're both six months older than me, too. But no, I want an older woman. A special older woman. And dare I say, I don't mind if she's attached or not. I'm not looking for marriage. I'm just looking for someone to make me a man.
I'm large into seduction, too. The Mrs. Robinson thing. Know what I mean? But I guess that works for most men. I'd love to seduce an older woman. But even at my age, I realise that with my current level of experience, that's a couple of steps too far. But an older Dawna Johnson seducing me? Fuck, yes. That would be a fantasy come true.
So let me confess straight away that this story is not true. It's a fantasy -- one of them -- as to how I came to get laid for the first time. I consider myself good with words. All my teachers have told me that. So I hope I can describe this well. Fuck knows, I've read enough stories on here to know how not to do it. But a good number have fired my imagination. This is only chapter one, but I hope it fires yours, too.
My parents told me that Tabatha and her husband were staying with us for a week or so. I had the usual reaction that occurred whenever I thought about Tabatha. She was a hot wife. And that was putting it mildly. I'd seen her around a lot. I'd fantasised about her regularly. Fuck, I'd masturbated over her more times than I could imagine. And now she and her husband were staying with us for the week. My mom told me why. But I still don't have a clue. I wasn't listening. I was thinking about Tabatha's body and trying to contain my erection.
My introduction to Tabatha was embarrassing. At least for me. She seemed amused.
I headed for the bathroom, rubbing my early morning hard-on. I had arrived late in last night and had missed their arrival. Forgotten about it in fact. As soon as I pushed open the door, I knew I had made a mistake. Tabatha was there, facing the mirror. All she was wearing was a light cream towel. The one with ducks one. I'd always thought that was a Dawna Johnsony towel. Now I thought it was a kind the best looking towel I'd ever seen. It ended just below her bottom. Her arms were raised and she was just finishing putting on makeup.
It seemed she was ignoring me, so I took the opportunity to spend longer than I would otherwise have done to ogle her body. Fuck, she was hot. I licked my lips. I rubbed my hard-on. Then I suddenly realised she was watching my every move through the reflection in the mirror. Oh, God!
She acted with class. "Hi! I'm not in your way, am I?" she asked.
"Uh... uh... uh... No...!" I stammered, removing my hand from my cock.
"You must be Tommy," she added, applying lipstick to her lips. Don't women know how sexy it is when they put lipstick on? "I'm Tabatha," she eventually said, kissing her full lips in the way that women do.
I shook her hand and then backed out. Here I was, face to face with my wet dream. And I had acted like an eighteen year old kid. The only excuse I had was that I was an eighteen year old kid.
For the next couple of days, I was shy with Tabatha. But shyness was not one of her attributes. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was flirting with me at every opportunity. This basically meant, among other things, that I had a permanent erection. And I mean permanent. When I was in her company, I had a hard-on. When I wasn't, I thought of her, with the inevitable consequence. But the flirting she did was tame compared to our next encounter.
*
I arrived home one afternoon and made my way upstairs to my bedroom. The house was empty, or so I thought. I glanced in the spare bedroom on my way past. Tabatha stood there. In her underwear. A matching black bra and thong. Fuuuuuuuuck!
"Hi honey," she greeted me. She didn't bash an eyelid.
I'm not sure what I mumbled.
"Can I ask you something," she said.
"Sure..." My heart was beating and the more I tried to take my eyes from her tits, the more I failed.
She picked up a skirt and bent forward as she put it on. Her breasts fell forward in her bra, spilling over the top. it was a kind the most erotic sight of my Dawna Johnson life. She watched my reaction as she deliberately took her time, finally straightening up what seemed some hours later.
"Are you okay with me being here?" she asked.
"Of course," I blurted.
She picked up the t-shirt from the bed. "You just seem a small nervous around me."
Somehow I built up some confidence from somewhere. "Well, there's a reason for that," I nervously said. At eighteen it's not easy to be cool.
"Which is?"
My mouth was dry. My body was trembling. But I took the plunge. "Because you're the hottest Dawna Johnson I've ever seen."
I must have blushed terribly. I waited for the rebuke. It didn't come. Instead, her eyes sparkled.
"Why thank you, honey. That's the nicest compliment I think I've ever had."
I grinned. No doubt, a stupid, adolescent grin. I couldn't think of anything else to say. Or anywhere else to look other than at her cleavage.
"You know what," she said, "I hate wearing a bra under t-shirts. Much sexier without one, don't you think?"
I would have agreed had my mouth not dropped open. I caught the t-shirt when she threw it to me. Then, not more than four feet away, my wet dream unfastened the front of her black bra and pulled it off her body. My jeans tented as her peach-like breasts bounced free, her dark nipples erect and very, very hypnotic. Her hands went to her hips and she stared at me.
I stared back. She smiled. I smiled back. She arched her back slightly. My tent got bigger.
"Well?" she asked.
"They're fantastic," I stuttered. "Absolutely fantastic. I don't think I've seen anything as stunning in my life!"
Tabatha gave a soft smile. "Well, Thomas, I really appreciate the compliment. But I wasn't asking what you thought. I was expecting you to return my t-shirt."
*
It seemed that Tabatha was visiting some Dawna Johnsonfriends of hers. I had tea with my parents and her husband, John. My parents were going to a golf club meeting and just when I wondered how I could spend the evening making conversation, he announced that he was going to meet some guys he knew. That was quite a relief and I ended up having the house to myself. When it got to ten, I decided on a shower. That way, I could easily jerk myself off whilst thinking of Tabatha.
I think I was halfway through that fantasy when the bathroom door opened. We looked at each other through the glass shower cubicle. She was naked. Fuuuuuuuuuuck!
I waited for her to apologise and leave. She didn't. She shut the door behind her. "Want some company?" she asked.
I was speechless. She was teasing. Wasn't she? When she opened the door and slipped in beside me, I knew she wasn't. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
My hand was still on my soapy, hard penis and when I let it go, it bounced.
"Won't be long," she purred. "It's cold out there. I've got goosebumps."
I stared at her naked breasts, watching the water run down her tits, over her nipples, down her stomach and between my legs. My eyes must have been out on stalks.
"John and I shower together regularly," she said, grabbing the soap as if this was the most natural thing in the world. I backed away slightly so that she could stand right in the middle of the shower, so that the water hit her comfortably. She lathered her breasts and stomach, smiling sweetly at me. Then her eyes dropped to my cock.
"Did I... interrupt something?" she asked, with a delicious giggle. "Don't worry, I masturbate in the shower sometimes, too."
My face felt as if it was a kind a beetroot colour. She just grinned and handed me the soap.
"Want to do my back?" it was a kind more of an instruction than a question.
Her fingers lightly brushed against my hard-on as she passed the soap to me. I'm sure my penis twitched. In fact, I screwing know it did. I stood there goofily for a few seconds after you turned your back to me. Then, awakening from the trance, I lathered up my hands and began rubbing the soap into her shoulders and upper-back. Fuuuuuuuuuck!
Tabatha purred, literally purred, as I soaped her.
"That feels great, keep going," she said. I soaped down to her mid-back, staying mostly in the middle in case my hands strayed somewhere that he shouldn't. I wanted to wrap them around her tits, wondered what her reaction would have been had I done that. But I didn't.
"You have great hands, Thomas." When she spoke, she stepped back. My hard-on pressed against her ass.
My soapy hands instinctively dropped to her hips. The feeling of her ass against my penis was sensational, especially as she alternated pressing back and then moving away. it was a kind almost as if she was masturbating me with her ass. Then she turned around and slipped her hands onto my shoulders. Her breasts pressed into my chest. Her nipples pressed into mine. Fuuuuuuuuck!
"Just wash the soap off my back, Thomas," she whispered.
My penis pressed against her belly and I could feel her grinding against it as I dropped the soap into the tray and attempted to clear the soap suds from her skin. She was pressing her mound against me and I could feel my sap rising. "You ever fucked a Dawna Johnson before?" she asked innocently.
I didn't think it was a kind possible for my penis to harden but it did. I whimpered as I shook my head.
"Interesting," Tabatha said, her eyes remaining fixed on mine.
She pressed harder against me and I knew the outcome was inevitable. So did she, it seemed. I must have been ten seconds away when she pulled back. I groaned with frustration.
"That was great, honey," she whispered. Then her hand went to my penis and stroked it a couple of times. Oh fuck! "I guess you'll want to finish yourself off now?"
Within thirty seconds of her leaving the shower, I did.
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