Day: April 27, 2005

My Sordid Past (Or, the clit is…where?)

Setting: 1991. Massachusetts.
Loation: The multi-line BBS Argus (envision it as IRC/IM/Chat Room of choice before the Internet was widely used and people used 2400 baud modems to connect).

You should probably start by reading about my first time in ‘hot chat’.

I migrated from Future Wave, a BBS with 12 lines, to Argus, a BBS with 128+ lines. At the time a BBS this large was almost inconceivable to me. Imagine the cost of running 120 phone lines to your house. Those that ran this BBS did exactly that. Oh – there were other BBS’s out there with a significant number of lines. But none that were free. I had paid a good twenty or so dollars to join Future Wave. Argus was much larger than any other multi-line BBS and didn’t charge a cent. Because it was free and anyone could be on it, us Future Wave users used to look down our noses at Argus users. People always value more the things they pay for.

Of course, people also like free stuff. I forget what eventually motivated me to move there from Future Wave, but move I did. I just never got over the feeling that there was a catch somewhere. Sometime after I moved from Massachusetts and stop visiting it, they did implement some sort of charging scheme.

But really, that’s not the story. This story is how I learned about sex. My first obstacle was my age. I was fifteen or so. I was not going to have the conversations I wanted so long as people thought I was a young teen. Sex wasn’t the only motivating factor either – I found the random exclamations being expounded by my fellow teens was an ordeal I could live without (“STevE TylEr is a GoD!”).

No – I was better than that! Or at least I thought I was.

I told people I was a 20-something. It wasn’t hard acting older than I was. Using capital letters (when appropriate), proper grammar, and the ability to speak on topics beyond Aerosmith and The Divynls was more than enough to set me apart from the rest of the adolescents. I was surprised at how easy it was to convince people I was something I’m not. Confidence and imagination were key. This would serve me well for a long time (long enough for me to grow into who I wanted to be).

The best and worst part is, I was at an age where I had no remorse about lying, about misrepresenting myself. Perversely, today the inverse is true – I am almost obsessive over self-honesty. I am almost honest to a fault about who and what I am. If you know how to ask the right questions, I will tell you anything. The trick, of course, is knowing what to ask. But honesty is a topic for another day.

In any case, I was not a bad kid. I was just amoral. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I didn’t think about the consequences either. This would, of course, eventually lead to trouble.

Back on topic – Argus provided a fertile ground for my teenage hormones. The problem is, I was terribly interested in sex but knew next to nothing about it. And let me tell you, learning about sex from a text-only medium is, shall we say, interesting and led to some – then confusing, now amusing – difficulties. I couldn’t let people know I didn’t understand what was going on. I had to fake it and figure things out as I went along. Some of the more interesting conundrums I faced:

1) The clit…is where? Ok, I know it feels good when I describe teasing it. I know it is located somewhere between your thighs. I know it is near your pussy. But where exactly is it? Is it inside? Underneath? And it gets hard when stimulated? No kidding. Me too.

2) Wet. Wet = good. This one was especially tricky, because the first time a girl mentioned she was getting wet when I touched her there, I had no idea if this was a good thing. Of course, next was hot and wet. I learned that if I had them in this state, I was making great progress.

Quiz time, multiple choice.
What is the moral of this tory?

A) Sex Ed in the nineties was sorely lacking.
B) I didn’t date much in high school.
C) I didn’t date at all in high school.
D) Unless you count the older women I met on-line and convinced to meet me.
E) I was a peculiar teenager.
F) All of the above.

Still, I turned out alright. Didn’t I?

All Tied Up, Part II

Finally. He draws away. You open your eyes to see him sitting up; he holds your gaze before reaching down to draw his shirt up and over his head. He leans over, skin to skin, kissing you hard.

Hands shift along your sides, down to your hips and over the top of your thighs. You can feel his knees resting against your inner thighs – leaning closer, he kisses you deeper. When he draws back, you are left panting and gasping softly.

You notice how helpless you are against him. You can’t stop him from running his hands down between your thighs, or over your breasts. You can’t stop him from drawing each breath out of you until your breathing is shallow as you watch him move. His hair brushes your stomach and then your waist, head lowering slowly until his mouth finds that moist place between your thighs.

You arch up against him, unable to control yourself as you feel his hands move underneath to grasp your buttocks, pressing you to his face.

You can feel his lips part and his tongue pressing along your inner lips, back and forth as he tastes you, tongue barely slipping inside. His face presses deeper into your thighs, tongue moving faster – faster – faster, until it runs over your clit, his mouth hungrily drawing it into his mouth to nibble.

Hands move back down over your thighs as he runs his tongue against your clit a little harder as he sucks…. applying ever more pressure. You arch again, feeling his mouth pulling on your clit, then rubbing…until he finally stops. You lay back upon the bed, gasping.

His face, wet from your thighs, peers up at you and he moves up along your body.

Frustrated, you ask him to untie you. He looks down into your eyes and laughs – a not-quite-cruel laugh, but one that shares with you the intimate knowledge that he knows just how much the both of you are enjoying the torment. Unable to stop him, you lay there, waiting to see what he does next.

He takes a few moments to stroke your heated body, hands roaming slowly, taking their time to explore your inner thighs, rubbing up and down the sensitive skin. His hands are warm and teasing; you shiver.

You feel your body respond, your hips moving with his rhythm, back and forth.

Abruptly he stops.

You look at him, eyes pleading. He smiles and moves to his feet, standing between your thighs. Holding your attention, he slowly moves his hands to the top of his jeans and undoes the top button. His fingers tug on the zipper, drawing it down. His jeans slide off and down to his feet. Using his foot, he kicks it off the bed.

He sinks to his knees again and moves up till you feel him through his underwear. His voice soft as he whispers, “Want to feel it?”

You moan and nod. He rubs against you a bit more, letting you feel how hot and hard it is through the fabric. Desperate, you wiggle on the bed but fail to escape. Helpless, you watch as he teases you, his hands moving down and tugging the edge of his underwear down.

His hands part your thighs further as you feel him move, hard cock rubbing along your inner lips. His body, hot against your skin, presses down and you feel him slowly slide inside, filling you

…slowly…

…an inch at a time…

…until he is all the way inside.

You moan louder, moving your hips with his as he moves back out, agonizingly slow.

Then he presses down again, filling you once more, deeper.

Over and over again. You can feel every inch of him, every movement. His hand moves between your bodies to brush your clit, quick and hard.

You can tell by his breathing that he is getting close.

He gasps, his chest pressing into yours as you arch up against him as he goes over. You lose what little control you have left and follow him into the maelstorm, gasping.

For a long moment he lies there against you. Finally he stirs and sits up. You open your eyes as he leans down, expecting him to untie you…but he only kisses you lightly and sits back up. He looks down at you, the hint of a smile on his face. He leaves and returns a minute later with a warm washcloth to clean you. But somewhere between cloth finding skin, and fingers finding moist flesh, the notion of being cleaned up becomes forgotten.

Eventually…several hours later…he unties you.