This week’s guest blogger is Dr Gloria Brame, and she’s got a smoking hot sex story to share. Gloria is a clinical sex therapist, a leader in radical sex theory and education, and she founded the world’s first online BDSM support group. She’s best known for her books Different Loving and The Truth About Sex, which promote evidence-based, pro-diversity perspectives on human sexuality.
I love first time sex stories, particularly if they set off that spark of recognition – I remember feeling like this when sex was new: fascinating and addictive and a bit scary and hot as all hell.
Here’s Gloria’s story.
Dr Gloria Brame: a first time sex story
My professor Raphael was tall, but not too tall, athletically built but not over-muscled. His complexion was gorgeous and he wore his curly Jewish hair in a mane. He had a perennially bemused look on his face and I liked his smug arrogance and cynical humor about most things. He was exactly twice my age, 34 to my 17, divorced, and a sublimely robust male specimen of the free love generation. When I took his course in Existentialism I had no idea how existential it would turn out to be.
It began with a spontaneous kiss that we swore we’d never repeat. But we were alone in his car, saying goodbye, and suddenly a kiss glued us together until a car behind us honked. It wasn’t that we got along famously. He found me callow and irritating, and I thought he was an unfeeling ass. Yet, somehow, just a week later, I was in his bed, telling him my tragic tale of thwarted fucking at age 14 and virginal pain, and then he was fucking me.
Well, it didn’t happen that fast. It took a little time, but he seemed to like that it did. He was patient, sensual and prepared. The condoms were in a drawer by the bed, he was freshly showered and smelled like soap and tea, and when he pulled off his shirt and jeans, he was as beautiful as any man I’d ever seen. He looked like a professional baseball player in his prime, everything well-proportioned, even his ever-hard, shapely cock.
At first I tensed when his fingers slipped between my legs but his fingers were soft and skilled. My spring-operated thighs which had clamped shut so many times at the prospect of a clumsy lover hurting me, fell open, welcoming in oceans of pleasure as he softly stroked my labia and clit.
Then he was on top of me, and I twined my naked limbs around him, climbing him like a tree, writhing in his sweat and then, just like that, he slowly worked his penis against my hole. All of a sudden, I felt it push inside me.
“OW!” I squealed at the sharpness of it, the intensity, like a tiny stab into the inside of the inside of my soul.
“Owwww,” I sighed as the pain yielded to a new, unfathomably delightful pleasure.
He lodged deep, pumping gently, slowly moving his cock in and out, stroking every nerve in my body with each thrust. Primal sounds vibrated from my throat, sounds I’d never made before and through my fog, I was giddy with laughter at what an animal I’d become.
The train ride home after the first fuck I could barely stand still. My legs felt like rubber springs, as if I could vault the rest of the way home like a kangaroo, as if a fundamental energy had been released in my spine that gave me super-powers. I wondered if passengers could see it in my face that I’d been rescued, redeemed, and relieved of the emotional burden that had plagued me since my virginity fail.
I was not broken! I just needed the right lover! Raphael was him. He hadn’t just fucked me, he had fucked my humanity! I was fully free now! It was better than love! I wanted to fuck him eternally! I didn’t want it all to stop. Oh god no, it couldn’t stop. I craved the magical, incredible whateverness that happened when his dick went in my cunt. I wanted him to fuck me to death. I wanted to fuck him until I went blind. I never wanted the lust to stop. There was no drug like lust.