Third Time Getting Lucky

Over time, it came out that Alec thought it unfair I wouldn't sleep with him, which obviously made me distrust him even more.

Alec did, however, have some old school mates who came over for a few parties.

By the start of December, I was still single, though had got as far as a promised second date with one of our tutors -- they were all working with us as part of their sandwich year between years two and three, so only two years older than us -- but then he'd been assigned abroad. Shame; he was Italian, and fit in a cool blond mountaineer way, and he had a pilot's licence...

I was a still a bit miffed by this loss, during the next Friday night party at ours which included a couple of Alec's 'friends'. It turned out they didn't like him that much either.

And one of these friends looked very similar to our departed pilot, above-average height, blond and stocky, though more of a rugby-player physique. This lad caught my eye, fetched me a drink, and we got chatting.

And increasingly drunk.

He lured me to a sofa, where I might have leant on him somewhat. I wasn't able to concentrate on remaining upright, given my permanently-impaired balance. Given the opportunity and a really very attractive bloke, some lush muscles and deep cheeky blue eyes, I was perfectly happy to practise snuggling with the guy.

We finally pulled ourselves apart for breath and decided to wobble to the kitchen to seek sustenance. As soon as we were back in the hallway, he grabbed me, made eye contact with me and raised an eyebrow slightly. I nodded and leant over into a really rather good snog, pressed up against his large muscular body.

I'd never kissed standing, really; certainly not a man rather than a teenage boy. His solid stature was just what I needed -- if I hadn't been hanging onto him, I'd have been completely incapable of standing up. Gripping onto his pullover meant my jerky arms weren't flailing.

I rapidly realised that we were blocking everyone trying to move around the house, so tugged him back towards the kitchen. This led to experimental standing up for cuddling -- his arms round me, me clinging on for dear life -- which of course began to look like filthy making out, as far as two people could go when both standing and clothed. Alec wandered in and made rude comments, including a loud, "Oi, Eagle, you move fast!"

"Eagle?" I queried, having not caught the guy's name earlier but pretty sure that hadn't been it.

He rolled his eyes as he assisted me in stumbling out of the room, me pretending to trip up to explain the level of lurching. "School joke. Ed, Eddie the Eagle...get it? Could be worse, could have been Edd the Duck... let's stick to Ed if you don't mind?"

I didn't bother replying that I'd coped fine up to that point with no name at all. We went back to getting all over each other, until multiple people suggested we get a room. Pleaded, even.

Seeing as we were in my own house, there was an obvious solution both to the noise of the party preventing conversation, and to us not having anywhere comfortable to sit.

"Let's go to my bedroom," I suggested.

I was used to socialising in my bedroom at home - 'keep your noisy friends out of my living room', my mother had always said.

It hadn't occurred to me how it might be interpreted by a bloke, not expecting to go to a private spot with me. Also, I had another reason to want to go there -- my room was the first on the upstairs landing, above the extension housing the downstairs bathroom and half the kitchen. I didn't want to find any couple had retreated to my bed.

Or worse. Both Tom Brondesbury and Charlie were becoming infamous for their puking episodes...

When we got upstairs, Ed was startled.

My bedroom took its description very literally: it happened to have only around 18 inches of space all around a very high double bed.

A dark oak chest of drawers and wardrobe were fitted into alcoves on the far wall. The radiator under the sash window reduced the floor space further, though I'd acquired a couple thin CD towers to use as bedside tables.

I clambered up onto the bed. The chap -- Ed, I remembered -- hesitated. "Are you sure you want to take me to bed already?"

I laughed, not just because I was really quite tipsy.

"Well, I wouldn't, normally! I was just planning to hang out somewhere where we could sit down and be a little more private than the lounge, and it's freezing outside, so this is my hospitality, I'm afraid. If you could just pretend this is a sofa, that would be good? Stay here a mo and I'll be a good hostess and get you a drink. What would you like?"

Ed raised an eyebrow, shrugged, hauled himself onto the bed and lay back, shoes falling on the floor somewhere. Retrieving items from the limited floor space was never elegant, but we could worry about that later.

It was rather odd, I supposed, having the bed be the only thing you noticed in the room. It was well over four feet high, and a right pain to clamber over when I invariably left hearing aid batteries or anything on the far side of the bed.

It vaguely occurred to me that Ed might interpret 'what would you like' as interest in what sexual favours he hoped for, but in fact he asked, "How the hell did this bed get in here?"

Yes, he was studying Engineering too.

"Assembled in here, I guess. Drink?"

"Whatever's left. And some water?"

I went to investigate. I was quite impressed that I managed to find half a bottle of wine and my lidded cup which I filled from the tap, and returned before anyone tried to get a share of the wine off me. Fifty-plus teenagers drink a lot. And all without falling down the stairs.

As I said, I was naive -- I was used to using a bedroom as my social space and totally didn't think how it could be misconstrued with a man! Especially given the ridiculously dominant bed. I cursed every morning when I invariably left something on my shelves in the far corner and had to fling myself up onto the pile of mattresses -- it had three -- to sprawl out to reach across, but of an evening it was incredibly comfortable. The stylish jewel-toned bedding was exactly my sort of image, too -- I didn't feel the lack of other space.

We sat up on the bed, leaning on the headboard and increasingly each other, passing the wine between us and knocking it back. Given we'd been touching tongues earlier, drinking out of the same bottle seemed fair enough.

As the bottle emptied, we slid down the bed, to reclining, then to lying. Once horizontal, we turned to each other and pressed our bodies together, and went back to the kissing. And rubbing against each other. And feeling hot.

The warm firmness of his clothed body was great, but instantly I wanted more. Pullovers and shoes and socks got discarded. I discovered I liked feeling a crisp cotton shirt, thick heavy fabric, in my hands, with body heat coming through it. His shirt became unbuttoned and I could rub my cheek up his bare chest, the soft fabric flapping over my hair, the heat of his body warming my face.

My top came off. With the tingling I could suddenly feel in my breasts, I was delighted when he immediately reached round to wrestle with my bra. It took him both hands but only a moment, before my breasts were bare and exposed.

Open to the air, on full view.

I'd never been topless for a man before. Or anyone.

I felt a little embarrassed, but that feeling was overridden by feeling comfortably free from the bra, and smug at the obvious effect my chest was having on him.

My breasts had celebrated my recent eighteenth by growing from rather small to a satisfactory C-cup, which was a good size for my frame. I suspected that being stared at by men all day, every day, however much most of them tried to pretend they weren't, might have had a lot to do with it!!

"Wow," he breathed, too drunk to be coherent but thus convincing me of his honesty, "You've got gorgeous tits!"

He put his face in between them, evening stubble scraping my delicate skin, and instantly I knew what I wanted.

I turned sideways slightly, so my nipple was pushed into his mouth.

Ed slurped on it happily. I closed my eyes and smiled. This was a level of sexual pleasure I could reach myself, a pleasant floating sensation I could relax into and enjoy for ages. I supposed it might be an orgasm, though it didn't seem like the screaming stereotype I read about.

The Internet didn't yet have porn videos on it -- not that my bandwidth could find, anyway -- so while I'd seen lots of magazine pictures and ASCII images and read all sorts of filth -- work didn't yet have a policy on reading the text parts of Usenet -- I hadn't encountered much of the sounds of sex. Delia tried to be quiet...

I made a purring noise, partly to encourage him.

In answer, Ed pulled me on top of him. That was fun, my weight pressing against a lump in his jeans. Firm, hard -- I knew what that was! I rolled sideways and pulled him onto me, instead, to keep me warm. It was a night in Advent, after all.

Over some time, the feeling of his breath over my ear, the rest of our clothes came off, leaving just our underpants in place. Near naked, we luxuriated in each other's soft smooth young skin.

Ed wasn't very hairy, just more blond fuzz than you'd find on a woman, getting almost furry on a few square inches of his chest. I ran my hands up and down his back, compulsively.

He was doing the same. His first strokes up and down my entire chest, over my breasts, no straps in the way, convinced me that I was doing the right thing, pulling some bloke I'd only met an hour earlier. I wanted more.

I wasn't sure what, but something more.

Luckily, considering how badly getting naked in bed with a drunk guy I'd just met could have gone, he asked me what I wanted him to do.

I couldn't really think -- a bottle of wine will do that -- but pushed him vaguely down the bed, closer to my feet. Kissing was grand and all, but it wasn't hitting the spot.

In fact, I finally realised I knew where the spot was and hoped he could do something about it!

He did.

A wide male hand cupped my pussy firmly through my pants. The warmth made my gusset wet. He rubbed across the wet patch with his fingers, and I moaned as I pushed myself against him.

It was a great start. We must have stayed like that for a quarter hour, him lying by my side, his tented boxers pressing against the side of my thigh. The triangulation effect suggested a good-sized erect cock; I wondered what I'd like to do with it, while I happily rocked against his palm. He furtively reached down to touch himself through the stiff cotton.

To avoid a long sad story, I'd had unpleasant experiences with penises before and had always been scared of getting close to any, but right now I was enjoying myself sexually for the first time with someone else, and starting to tipsily consider what good feelings a cock might be able to give me.

Alec had sneered that Ed had been around a bit, the cocky git -- years later I'd realised that was intense jealousy -- so I figured I'd take advantage and learn all I could off him.

'More?' I whined.

Ed met my eyes and smiled, smug as a cat.

Shuffling a yard down the bed and into between my legs, Ed ceremoniously pulled down my black pants to expose me, as I arched my bum up to let him.

Pushing myself up like that, showing my cunt off for the first time, felt filthy and suddenly hugely arousing.

The effort had clearly tired him; it was late and we were both plastered, so Ed lay prone and raised his face to rest his chin on my pubic hair.

I felt I should apologise for what wasn't actually wild growth, though equally I'd only seen shaved mounds in porn, so I supposed my neat trim was a good compromise. I'd got as far as "sorry about the..." but he rested a hand on my lips a moment, then scooted down, planted his face in the middle of my pubes, smudged it about happily, and then shuffled a couple inches further.

And then he brought his arms down to rest his forearms on my thighs, and pushed his face downwards to suck on my clit.

I yelled.

My legs tried to leap in the air, but luckily Ed was holding them in place with his body's weight on his arms.

My hands punched the mattress, drumming on it as they wanted desperately to push away the source of this overwhelming sensation, but at the same time I didn't want it ever to end.

He managed to grab one wrist, then the other, to keep himself safe from my flailing as he continued his oral showing-off, fucking me with his tongue, slurping on my labia, blowing on my most sensitive areas that I'd hardly known I had.

I'm pretty sure I couldn't have prevented my moaning noises if I'd tried. In any case, the sounds helped both of us stay in the mood, him knowing how his actions were affecting me.

The experience went on. And on. Finally, my body was left totally beyond my control as it was wracked by the spasms of my first definite, overwhelming, sexual pleasure.

It was too much, but I was so glad I'd been unable to articulate any words, as it was also too, too wonderful.

The firm grip on my wrists had helped me relax and simply accept the amazing experience. Though probably that was also partly responsible for the bondage fetish I only started to appreciate a year later...

Eventually the movements round my pussy stopped. I collapsed, unable to hold myself up at all -- just as well I was already on my back in bed!

At this moment the door opened. None of our interior doors locked, and I'd never thought to improvise previously.

Ben looked round the door, winked at me and shut it again.

I heard him call down the stairs, "Yes, she's gone to bed, but she's fine. Going to sleep. Don't worry!"

Ed scraped himself up drunkenly and wodged his boxers under the door before collapsing back down next to me, his cock now on full display. It was large, palest brown, all smooth up the shaft until the wrinkles round the head. It was hot, yet disturbingly like ones I'd had bad times with.

I put my hand on it to remind myself I was in control now -- as much as I wanted to be -- and also so I didn't have to look at it. The heat nearly burned my hand, it seemed, and the soft tender skin over it, with a steel core within, felt fantastic. Like a wild animal that I'd tamed. Mine.

"Ohhh," Ed voiced, as he exhaled. Mindful of crowds outside the door, he turned into my chest to muffle his sounds, and took one of my breasts into his mouth as I moved my hand up and down.

His cock was smoother than I'd expected, warm, and fit well in my hand. It was nice, I decided. It reminded me of a gear-stick with a polished wooden knob at the end. Ha-ha, knob. Sliding up and down made it even stiffer inside. It started to tremble.

Ed's mouth pressed more firmly around my breast as he began to moan.

I wasn't really concentrating on what I was doing, what with being most inebriated, not to mention what he was doing to me, but I could tell I was making an impression as he let my breast go and his head fell back.

And then a fountain came from his cock.

I watched it, entranced.

It went a good two feet in the air, and then fell in a beautiful parabolic curve to make a brief puddle, then just a wet patch on the duvet cover. Amazing. His cock remained upright for a moment, then softened, still somewhat upright.

He smiled, sighed with fatigue. "Cheers, love. Karen."

I was a bit relieved he remembered who I was. I knew we weren't going to bother staying in touch after this night, but I didn't want to be just another anonymous encounter!

Getting his breath back, Ed put his hand down to my thighs, squeezing an inner thigh, soft and sensitive.

It was an instinctive reaction, opening my legs in response to the hand between them, and it was me who arched up so he could reach more easily.

That large, slightly roughened hand, warm and firm over my cunt, was something I knew I wanted more of.

"More?" I begged.

We looked into each other's eyes. "You sure?"

"Yes!"

Only then did I have a brief moment of worry that he might take that to mean his cock, but he was on the same page as me, luckily.

Ed wriggled his middle finger until it found my vagina, hidden behind secret folds. I winced a bit and he noticed.

"One moment. Just need a bit of lube."

"If it sticks and it shouldn't, WD40? No thanks!"

Ed grinned as he thwapped the air near my head in admonishment.

"Not that hi-tech." He left his finger at my opening and bent down, to lick around the area, making all my folds moist, and soaking his finger in spit, so it could simply slide into soft wetness.

It worked.

A finger inside me, knuckles pressing on the outside, was great. Amazing.

"Another?" he asked me, this time.

I nodded.

Another finger, initially a bit rough and encountering friction, then slipping in to join the other, the pair stretching my vagina slightly, pushing in and out and side to side.

Oh, this was so good!

So, so good.

So, so, so very good...

"Shall I get a condom out?"

This was obviously the polite way of saying "can I fuck you?" And equally obviously, the expected answer was 'yes'.

"No. No, thanks."

This did, I admit, put a damper on things.

Ed left his hand in place but stopped moving.

"But why?" He thought a moment, gathering drunken ideas together. "You're not a virgin. Or... are you?"

A complicated question. Nowadays I simply ignore anything from before I was eighteen when asked about my sex life, but it was harder then.

"Not exactly... No." I had to give some sort of answer, at least. "I just don't want sex. OK?"

"But... I've got condoms. And I can see your pills on the side there?"

I'd been prescribed the pill for agonising periods, by a patronising GP who'd tried to tell me I'd have to pay for them if I wouldn't admit I was going to have sex. A blushing teenage pharmacy assistant had had to confirm to me that he couldn't take any money off me, because they'd act as a contraceptive whether I wanted that function or no.

"No. Now, do you want to shift round, so I can suck your cock while you keep doing that with your fingers, or not?"

I could almost see his brain making drunken connections, and lighting up when he finally understood the plan.

"Yeah. Please." Good manners.

He moved so we were lying antiparallel, his head just above my knees, my face in front of his groin. I had a brief moment of panic, confronted with his cock up so close, but the pleasurable sensations I was receiving distracted me just enough. I was looking down on it, which helped.

I remembered how I'd rather enjoyed giving a blow job a few weeks earlier, to the fellow student who'd turned out to be a bad kisser. You don't get drool from cock...

I tried to put his cock in my mouth, but it only just fit, so I resorted to slurping round the edge of the head. It all tasted of meat and soap with a slight rough texture. Not unpleasant.

Licking the line of skin up the underside went down well, and nibbling at it and the velvety foreskin even better. His foreskin was fantastic fun, to pull around and to fold over his head and rub through. And the noises he made as I played with that central bit of his anatomy, him losing his control, made me feel powerful -- and, combined with his fingers in my happy cunt, sexy as all hell.

"Oh, god! Can I...? I'm gonna.. I... I...!"

I'd taken him back into my mouth briefly, just before he came, though gravity meant his come mostly went straight back down onto himself.

"Kin'ell. Fuck! Wow!" He fell back, sated for the time being.

I wasn't worried -- one thing I'd learnt about young men is yes, they came easily, but give them five minutes and they'd be raring to go again. Not that Rich had had that chance...