My First Satisfying Sex

One late afternoon while a group of us were sitting in a circle on the grass, the just comfortably warm enough sun setting lazily, making our hearts ache for the day to last even longer than it had, the conversation made an abrupt turn. I was just thinking out loud that it would be the perfect ending to my successful semester of studying to have a little holiday in the city. I was living with my parents in a small, overcrowded town of which the inhabitants often seemed to crowd in on me, pressing me to be the aloof, short-tempered side of myself.

My best friend’s sister and her husband had been visiting and completely unexpectedly he offered me the keys to their house in Pretoria, for the remainder of their holiday in the Eastern Cape, with my best friend. He literally took them off the bundle that also contained the car keys and said I shouldn’t be stupid and pay for accommodation if their house is standing empty. I laughed him off, secretly wishing that such a generous offer could in any kind of world really be made, but he convinced me that he was quite serious and his words were seconded by his smiling wife and her sister, my friend. He said: “Please eat whatever’s left in the fridge and in the cupboards – it’ll all just go off if you don’t.”

The next day I was on a bus, my soul swollen with excitement at the prospect of revisiting the clubs I frequented only the year before when I lived there for a whole two months before going home flat broke. In those clubs I had picked up and been picked up by a number of one night stands, with whom the sex was always quick, anonymous and only satisfying very temporarily. Maybe this time I would be more successful in my hunt for the ever-elusive feeling of having had enough. I was not yet twenty and had only very recently started having sex with women. I had SO much to catch up on!

Entering the home of people I had only met a few days before was like being a thief and a voyeur at the same time. At first I only hovered in it, but eventually I completely lived in their space, in their rooms and on their couches, out of their fridge and into the city-life I imagined they may have led there. I could smell them in their respective rooms and it was very special to be able to take it all in from an outsider’s point of view.

I made the absolute most of my week alone. I worked my way through their personal collection of dvd’s, then rented a couple, read their magazines then bought a few, ate their food then cooked some new and interesting meals for myself. I tanned topless in their garden by their pool, walled in safely and hidden from any uninvited eyes. I went to the specific club I liked most and only went home with someone once. Somehow I enjoyed being in my temporary abode more than being in her permanent one. Her face and body were much like my own and we had fun together, but it was fairly unemotional and still I returned feeling unquenched.

My generous hosts – generous especially because of their absence – arrived home after I had managed to clean every single dish and towel I had used in my week there, their home as spotless as they had left it. I wanted to make as shallow an imprint on their life as possible as not to abuse the kindness they already showed me. But I was invited to stay a few more days and they absolutely insisted that they really wanted me to be there. So I stayed.

Their reason became clear quite soon. He had always secretly fantasized about is wife with another woman and having a young amorous lesbian in their home seemed a delicious idea. I was indeed very young and very amorous and I got myself into something I would never repeat but have never regretted.

He nudged her into walking around the house with no underwear, for instance, enjoying the expression on my face as she would bend in front of me to pick up something, giving me a clear look right down the middle of her beautiful breasts to her slightly rounded tummy in a loose summer dress. He was forever setting us up to be alone together in an awkwardly sexual situation, appearing and disappearing at his own pace throughout, to see how far things would go. But I refused to react on any of his clumsy attempts at getting us both in bed at the same time. Finally, after half a week’s trying, he gave up and left us alone in their bedroom where I was massaging her back, to park the car in the garage, sure that nothing was going to happen. He was bored with my stubbornness and her failure to lure me into their little plan.

As I was straddling her bare back, her pajama shorts pulled down low, my hands faking their expertise in the art of massage, my groin was throbbing and my nipples hard, but I would NOT make a move. I didn’t have to. As we could both hear the car move into the garage slowly, her husband definitely inside it, she grabbed my hand and pushed it in underneath one full breast, her sudden movement hard and desperate and rough. My heart leapt in my chest as she turned half-over and kissed me, sticking her tongue very deeply into my mouth. The front door closed gently and by the time he was back in the room, not expecting anything to have happened, it did seem like nothing had happened. I carried on rubbing her back, the muscles more tense now than before, and she pretended to have fallen asleep. He grunted that sleeping is seemingly the only thing left to do and I left for my guest bedroom, my heart racing and my groin throbbing with wanting.

About half an hour later, when he was snoring away, she sneaked into my room, whispered right into my ear that she was going to pretend to be ill and come home from work in the morning and that she simply had to have me. She left me panting and unable to sleep at all, my own fingers slipping in and over my swollenness, unwanting to bring myself to climax. I wanted her to do it.

The next morning I stayed in my room until they had both left for work, then I showered and shaved and ate only things I knew couldn’t possibly make my breath smell bad. I brushed my teeth over and over and chewed half a packet of gum, restlessly milling about the house and the garden, waiting. When she arrived it wasn’t what I expected. She made me sit on the grass with her and talked to me about the tough decision to leave the office at all and not to stay at work, doing what a dutiful, loyal wife should do. Yes, he wanted us to get physical, but it never crossed his mind that it would happen in his absence, that she would actually cheat on him with me. She was having a guilt trip and it put me off. I said she didn’t have to force herself to do it; I would just drive back to work with her and we could just chat, maybe have a quick lunch together, later. She said she was supposed to be delivering medical supplies to somewhere in Witbank, so it was a perfect solution: we would just remove ourselves out of a very tempting situation. If we weren’t going to be alone together, nothing would happen.

Well. Our desire for one another very nearly set the car on fire and we made a u-turn on one of the highways as soon as we possibly could and we were undressing each other before we could even get the front door unlocked. We got into the shower together and we were devouring each other’s bodies with an intensity I had never experienced before, with anyone. We were both greedy, hot, sweating, steaming, licking, sucking, grabbing, squeezing, moaning, madly, madly in lust. On the bed she came into my mouth with her back arched in an impossible curve, her taste the sweetest, best thing ever on my tongue. She made me come with her eager fingers exactly how I wanted her to and I heard my own voice and breath push from my body like it was someone else’s, loud and uncensored and abandoned and let loose to utter lunacy.

We laughed out loud as we collapsed back on the bed next to each other, exhausted and satiated with the most intense sex I had ever dreamed of.

We did this a couple of times over before her husband arrived in the afternoon and we didn’t tell him anything. We had an affair, a long-distance-hot-and-heavy-affair for months and finally, once he came to know about it, included him because we felt we had to. Suddenly we were careful, slow, unsure, hiding our desire for one another so well from him that we never gave ourselves to one another so fully ever again. He spoiled it so badly for us and we spoiled it so badly for him and it all became extremely sour and sore and we had to end it, after two years.

My heart was broken terribly and would only mend again years later when I met the woman I am still with now. Sex with her is even better but it wouldn’t have been if I didn’t have that first encounter of letting go so totally.

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