10-12-2019, 05:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-12-2019, 05:26 PM by ashishrajan. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Since I copulated the first time, I have wondered what the woman felt as I drilled my penis into her vagina. About ten years ago, I engaged in a short assignation with Paro K. Early in our relationship, Paro commented that she often wondered what a man felt when he put his penis inside a woman.
By a fluke of nature, we were both able to satisfy our curiosity. Paro was blessed, or cursed, with an unusually long clitoris. It was just shy of two inches long when fully erect. It was also, thankfully, barely a quarter inch in diameter. Moreover, Paro, via years of self-gratification, had so loosened the hood of her clitoris that she could retract it all the way down to the base of the shaft. When she had an erection, it looked as though she had a miniature penis – one without a meatus (pee hole) at its tip.
I spent a most of my military career in the medics and had often had to put indwelling catheters in patients prior to taking them to surgery so that all of the intravenous fluids they received during a long operation could be safely drained into a collection bag. The diameter of Paro's erect clitoris was about that of the 22 French, Folley catheters I had put in perhaps a hundred men. As she and I talked about our long standing desire to know what a member of the opposite gender feels during intercourse, I said to her, "I've just had a wild idea."
"What?"
"Darling, we both share the same fantasy, or desire. We both wonder what our sex partner is feeling while we fuck."
"Okay, but what's your wild idea?"
"Paro, your clitoris is just the right size to slip into my urethra. You can put it in my penis and feel what a man feels when he's in a woman."
"Are you crazy?"
"I may be, and I have no idea whether the inside of my penis will give me the same sensations you have in your vagina during intercourse, but I want to find out."
All of this time, Paro and I were nude and lying together on a deep pile rug in front of the fireplace kissing, fondling one another's genitals, lazily progressing toward that moment when we would join our bodies at the hips and seek mutual bliss.
We played tongue tag. I kissed her all over her body, and she too gave me 'around the world' kisses. We sucked and licked one another's genitals. My penis stood stiff and firm. A slick sheen of fluid wet her vulva so much that some even flowed across her thigh. Her erect clitoris protruded over an inch past the edge of her labia major. We were hot and ready.
"Joseph, are you really serious about this?" She asked. "Yes."
"But, isn't my clit too big around to stick in you?"
"No," I said, and then told her about catheterizing men with catheters that were even bigger around than her clitoris.
She still seemed doubtful, but was by then so aroused and so in need of an orgasm that she said, "Okay, you've convinced me. Let's try this crazy idea of yours."
lay on my back, took my penis in my hand and bent it down to point toward my feet at about a thirty degree angle to my body. Pre-come flowed copiously from its meatus. Paro straddled my thighs and moved into position. She brought the tip of her clitoris to the tip of my penis and stuck it into the pearling pre-come. She smeared that slippery fluid over the entire length of her clit,
just as I had on another occasion, smeared her vaginal fluids on my penis before entering her.
When her clitoris was coated with my pre-come, she moved its tip back to my opening and pressed it. Because my penis was fully erect, the urethra was somewhat constricted and she had to press hard to get her clitoris inside. Initially it hurt. I almost told her to stop, but I knew that while my patients complained about the pain catheterization caused them just as the tip of the catheter entered the meatus, they said it really didn't hurt after it was past there and was well into the urethra. I gritted my teeth and let Paro put her entire length into me.
Once she was all the way in I said, "Honey, hold still for just a moment. It hurt a little when you first stuck your clit in me, but it's easing now and we can soon continue."
A look of concern crossed Paro's face. "Are you sure?" She asked. "I don't want to hurt you." "I'm sure. You probably had some pain the first time a man entered you, didn't you?"
"Yeah. For a minute or so it hurt like hell, but then it stopped hurting and it felt wonderful having his hard cock in me."
"I'm hoping that's what I'm about to experience. The pain is already past. Start sliding in and out slowly."
Wonder filled Paro's eyes as she slowly slid her clit almost all the way out of my penis and then slid it back in. It must have felt good to her; the smile she gave me was one of pure bliss.
I also began to feel a pleasant sensation in my penis. I cannot describe it; I have nothing else with which to compare it, but as it grew, I knew I liked it. The flow of my pre-come increased, and
my urethra seemed to dilate making the reaming of my penis by Paro's clitoris not just comfortable, but delightful. I began moving my pelvis to meet her invading clit on its inward
stroke.
Paro's clitoris seemed to swell inside my penis. It also seemed to pulse. When this happened, Paro gritted her teeth, grimaced and began to keen. I've heard many women vocalize during an orgasm. None made the deep, guttural noises that came from Paro as she had that orgasm.
Watching and feeling Paro climax triggered my orgasm. Her clitoris inside my penis failed to occlude my urethra enough to force my semen backward into my bladder. Instead, it burst out around the shaft of her clitoris and splashed against her widely splayed labia and her mons.
I cannot describe that orgasm. I have never had another one like it.
I still do not know that I felt what a woman feels when she has a man's penis inside her vagina, but I know that I enjoyed it.
Paro seemed shaken and subdued when she pulled her clitoris from my penis. A few minutes later she told me her orgasm had been wonderful, but totally unlike any orgasm she had ever had before. She also told me that she was embarrassed and ashamed, that she felt that what we had done was un-natural and perverted.
I tried to comfort her, but she was in such a deep funk that nothing I said consoled her. She dressed and left. I've not seen her since that night. I tried calling her, but Trish, her roommate said that Paro had left and that she didn't know where she had gone.
I feel sorry for Paro.
I often think about her, and about the role reversal we engaged in that night. I've never found another woman endowed with a clitoris like Paro's so I've never re-experienced that kind of intercourse. Sometimes I think I would like to do it again, but then I think about the way Paro panicked afterward, and the emotional hurt she had. I would not want to hurt another woman in that manner.
Paro, wherever you are; I wish you the best. Joseph Jacquekov
My name is Paro. Recently a friend of mine gave me a copy of the story Role Reversal by Joseph Jacquekov. I am the woman he wrote about. As Joseph said at the end of his story, I freaked out after we had fucked and left. I didn’t just leave his house; I left the state. I’ve not seen him since, and don’t want to see him. But, I think I need to give you my take on that night’s events.
Joseph is at least ten years older than I am. I don’t usually date men that old, and when I first met him at a friend’s barbeque party, I had no idea that I would not only date him, but go to bed with him.
Joseph is not like any other man I’ve ever met. He does not make an obvious move on a girl. He blind sides her, and before she knows what has happened, he has her in his bed fucking like a bunny rabbit.
Like I said, we met at a friend’s barbeque party. It was late afternoon on the Fourth of July 1988. Jenny and her husband Larry had invited about two dozen of their friends and neighbors to a get together around their swimming pool. They had grilled meat of several different kinds, three or four kinds of salad, pinto beans in a chili sauce, and too many kinds of alcohol to even try to tell you what they had. A
neighborhood kid whose hobby was playing disc jockey had his stereo equipment set up and was playing
whatever music the guests requested. It was a great party.
I had just filled my plate with food and was looking for a place at a table where I could eat. The only vacant spot was at a cocktail table next to an old man. I wasn’t thrilled about sitting with him, but it was either sit with him, or stand up to eat. You can’t use a knife and fork while standing with no place but your hands for your plate. I went over and asked if I could sit with him.
He smiled and said, “Young lady, I would be delighted to have your company.” He got up, pulled the chair back a little so that I could sit, and then moved it forward just enough to touch the back of my leg so that I knew I could sit without falling on my butt. No one had ever done that for me before. Young guys just don’t think about that. I guess they’ve bought the feminist BS that real women don’t want to be treated like that.
As we sat eating, we introduced ourselves and then began to talk.
I’ll give this to Joseph; he is fun to talk to. Although he’s knowledgeable about a great many things, he does not dominate a conversation. He lets the other person talk, and he listens – he really listens. Not many people do that. And, somehow, he keeps the conversation going. He makes comments, or asks questions, that make the person he’s talking to feel that he is hanging on their words, and keeps them talking. The old bastard really knows how to stroke a person’s ego.
Joseph doesn’t talk loudly. To hear him, you have to lean closer to him. And, all the time that you are talking with him, he’s looking into your eyes. You can’t help but to look back into his eyes. The effect of that is hypnotic. After a few minutes, I really felt attached to him. He made me feel good and appreciated. He had not said anything to make me think he was trying to get in my pants. He was a perfect gentleman. He kept me talking about things I wanted to talk about, and he made me feel that he was really, really interested. I liked him.
“Paro,” he asked, “May I bring you something to drink?” “Yes, please. A glass of white wine.”
After he returned from the bar and gave me my glass of wine, he sipped from his beer. Unlike most men, he drank it from a glass instead of from the bottle. I must have been staring because he said, “I can’t stand beer directly from a bottle or a can. While in Germany, I got in the habit of drinking it from a stein. I have to agree with the Germans; you can’t really get the flavor of a beer unless you get your nose in the glass and can smell it.”
For some reason, I enjoyed talking with Joseph. I’d been at the party almost two hours and had not even thought about finding someone else to schmoose with.
Then he surprised me. “Paro, may I take you to dinner Friday evening? I’ve so enjoyed talking with you. I’d like to get to know you better.” I didn’t know what to say. I liked him. He seemed to like me. It was comfortable talking with him. After chasing answers around in my head for almost a minute, I told him yes. I gave him my address and he said he would pick me up at six.
He rang the doorbell at my apartment exactly at six Friday evening. He was wearing a summer suit: white linen. His tie, can you believe it, was a bow tie. He had a straw hat tucked under his left arm, and had a bouquet of summer flowers in his right hand. He looked like someone out of one of the old romance novels my grandmother had. They had been written around the turn of the century and were illustrated with pen and ink sketches, rather than photos. Looking at the way he was dressed, I felt that my slacks and off the shoulder blouse looked wrong for our evening together. I said, “Come in and have a seat. I need to change into a dress.” “Oh, nonsense. You look perfectly lovely dressed as you are.”
“Thank you,” I said, “But, I’d feel better in a dress.”
“Okay. While you are changing, may I put these flowers in a vase for you?”
I took him into the kitchen, got down a vase, and gave him a pair of kitchen scissors and a packet of flower fresh. I then went to my bedroom to change. When I came out, I was wearing a paisley print dress that I thought complimented his ‘British look.’ When he saw me, he smiled and said, “Paro, my dear, you look gorgeous. You should dress like that more often.” I thrilled at the compliment.
Joseph took me to a restaurant that he said was as much like a French bistro as could be found west of New York. I had never eaten French food before, and cannot even begin to pronounce the names of the things we ate.
I almost gagged when the waiter brought out the appetizer and set it in front of me. It was snails, great big snails in their shells. The shells were upside down on a little metal plate with holes in it for the shells to sit in. There was something black in each shell, and around that black spot there was partly melted butter with little flecks of green in it. A tiny two pronged fork lay on the dish next to the snails. Joseph sensed my discomfort and said, “Paro, this is escargot. It is a marvelous, highly prized delicacy all over Europe. I think you will like it. If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it.”
I tried it. I liked it. I ate all six snails. They were not slimy; they had a slightly fish like flavor which by itself was nothing to brag about, but that garlicky butter sauce with parsley and white wine in it was to die
for. Everything Joseph ordered was wonderful. And, God! The pastry we had for dessert.
After dinner, Joseph took me to a theater for a stage play, not a movie, an honest to goodness stage play. He said it was an avant garde production by an acquaintance of his. The play had a couple of suggestive sex scenes in it, but was such a hilarious comedy that those sex scenes just were there to pull
the rest of the play together.
When Joseph took me home, I asked him in. At dinner, and again during the intermission at the theater, I had drunk enough champagne that I was feeling mellow, and I’m sorry to say – sexy. Joseph had done nothing to make me feel he was seducing me, but everything he had done had made me feel good. He had paid attention to me in a way that no other man I had ever been out with had done. He made me feel… Well, he made me feel loved. He made me feel like a woman, a woman who was appreciated. I liked the feeling.
We sat and talked a while. To my surprise, I was the one who turned the conversation to sex. As always, Joseph said little, but made sure I talked a lot. Damn that man. He drew things out of me that I had never said to anyone before, things that were my deepest, darkest thoughts about sex.
He never said anything judgmental about the things I told him. He just kept me talking, and the more I talked the hornier I got. I felt my nipples stiffen and press against my dress top. I wasn’t wearing a bra and I knew Joseph could see the little tents my hard nips were making. He didn’t say anything, but I could see in his eyes that he had noticed, and that he liked what he saw. That made me even hotter. I was getting wet.
I, I couldn’t help my self. I kissed Joseph. He returned the kiss. He didn’t do it like the young guys I had kissed in the past. He didn’t use the kiss as permission to begin pawing me and trying to bang my mouth with his tongue. Just as he kept me talking, he was now keeping me kissing him. He was accepting my kiss with a quiet passion that just made me want to give him more. He wasn’t really passive. That would have turned me off, but he down played his response just enough to keep me pressing for more. The son of a bitch was making me seduce my self, and I was enjoying it so much that I couldn’t stop. That was the first time I went to bed with Joseph. When he left shortly after midnight, I was weak kneed. I
had come so many times, and so hard. God! That man can eat pussy. As I bathed and got ready for bed, I
knew that I’d let him fuck me again, and again, and again.
I did – until the night we switched roles. We had talked about our fantasies several times, and both said we had often wondered what the other person felt while we were fucking.
My clit is huge. That is, it is long. It is almost two inches long, and it is about the size of a pencil in diameter. Joseph loved playing with it. He gave me blow jobs like I was used to giving to the guys I dated. You wouldn’t believe the way that man can make a girl come.
Anyway, after talking a while, Joseph suggested that we live our fantasy and find out what it feels like to fuck like a member of the opposite sex. I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t. He told me he wanted me to stick my clit inside his cock. He wanted me to pretend I was a man, and he would pretend to be a woman, and we would fuck.
I almost freaked out then, but he had gotten me so horny by sucking my clit until I was just about to come and then backing off before I could, that I was ready to do anything if it would make me come. I had to get off.
Joseph got on his back and held his cock so that it was pointing down toward his feet at an angle that was just right for me to stick my clit into him.
I put my clit against the tip of his cock and spread his pre-come all over my shaft and around the head of his dick. That felt good, and it turned me on enough that I overcame the feeling that we were doing something perverted.
I put the head of my clit in his pee hole and began pushing in. It must have hurt him, but he didn’t say anything. I just saw his jaws tighten. I asked if he wanted me to stop, but he shook his head, and told me
to go ahead.
When the whole thing was in his cock, he said, “Hold still for just a moment. Let me get used to having you in me.”
A little bit later he told me to start fucking him. I pulled back until just the tip of my clit was still in his cock head, and then slid all the way into him again. Oh, that felt good. If that’s really what a man feels when he fucks a woman, it’s no wonder that they all want to lay every woman they meet.
We didn’t fuck very long. My orgasm came on too fast. I had never had one that felt like that one. It was wonderful, but so powerful and so strange that it scared me shitless.
My orgasm made Joseph come too. His come shot out around my clit and splashed all over my pussy. I had never felt anything like what I felt as his come squirted past my clit. It just made my orgasm the most mind-blowing orgasm I had ever had.
I was so drained. I almost fainted. Then the guilt hit me. What we had done seemed so wrong, so perverted. I was so ashamed. I got off him, got dressed, and went home. I couldn’t sleep that night. I cried and cried. In the morning, I told my room mate I was leaving. I packed my stuff into my car and drove away. Three days later, I was in California.
Thankfully, I had a few thousand dollars in the bank, and lived off my savings until I found a job at a Farmer’s Insurance agency. I also found a shrink and began therapy. I’m better now, and have begun dating again.
Yes, I let some of the guys I date fuck me. No, I haven’t fucked any of them the way I fucked Joseph, and
I doubt that I ever will. But – I dream about it. Boy do I dream about it. When I do, I wake up soaked in
sweat and having one hell of an orgasm.
I wonder if those orgasms are like the ones a guy has when he has a wet dream?
By a fluke of nature, we were both able to satisfy our curiosity. Paro was blessed, or cursed, with an unusually long clitoris. It was just shy of two inches long when fully erect. It was also, thankfully, barely a quarter inch in diameter. Moreover, Paro, via years of self-gratification, had so loosened the hood of her clitoris that she could retract it all the way down to the base of the shaft. When she had an erection, it looked as though she had a miniature penis – one without a meatus (pee hole) at its tip.
I spent a most of my military career in the medics and had often had to put indwelling catheters in patients prior to taking them to surgery so that all of the intravenous fluids they received during a long operation could be safely drained into a collection bag. The diameter of Paro's erect clitoris was about that of the 22 French, Folley catheters I had put in perhaps a hundred men. As she and I talked about our long standing desire to know what a member of the opposite gender feels during intercourse, I said to her, "I've just had a wild idea."
"What?"
"Darling, we both share the same fantasy, or desire. We both wonder what our sex partner is feeling while we fuck."
"Okay, but what's your wild idea?"
"Paro, your clitoris is just the right size to slip into my urethra. You can put it in my penis and feel what a man feels when he's in a woman."
"Are you crazy?"
"I may be, and I have no idea whether the inside of my penis will give me the same sensations you have in your vagina during intercourse, but I want to find out."
All of this time, Paro and I were nude and lying together on a deep pile rug in front of the fireplace kissing, fondling one another's genitals, lazily progressing toward that moment when we would join our bodies at the hips and seek mutual bliss.
We played tongue tag. I kissed her all over her body, and she too gave me 'around the world' kisses. We sucked and licked one another's genitals. My penis stood stiff and firm. A slick sheen of fluid wet her vulva so much that some even flowed across her thigh. Her erect clitoris protruded over an inch past the edge of her labia major. We were hot and ready.
"Joseph, are you really serious about this?" She asked. "Yes."
"But, isn't my clit too big around to stick in you?"
"No," I said, and then told her about catheterizing men with catheters that were even bigger around than her clitoris.
She still seemed doubtful, but was by then so aroused and so in need of an orgasm that she said, "Okay, you've convinced me. Let's try this crazy idea of yours."
lay on my back, took my penis in my hand and bent it down to point toward my feet at about a thirty degree angle to my body. Pre-come flowed copiously from its meatus. Paro straddled my thighs and moved into position. She brought the tip of her clitoris to the tip of my penis and stuck it into the pearling pre-come. She smeared that slippery fluid over the entire length of her clit,
just as I had on another occasion, smeared her vaginal fluids on my penis before entering her.
When her clitoris was coated with my pre-come, she moved its tip back to my opening and pressed it. Because my penis was fully erect, the urethra was somewhat constricted and she had to press hard to get her clitoris inside. Initially it hurt. I almost told her to stop, but I knew that while my patients complained about the pain catheterization caused them just as the tip of the catheter entered the meatus, they said it really didn't hurt after it was past there and was well into the urethra. I gritted my teeth and let Paro put her entire length into me.
Once she was all the way in I said, "Honey, hold still for just a moment. It hurt a little when you first stuck your clit in me, but it's easing now and we can soon continue."
A look of concern crossed Paro's face. "Are you sure?" She asked. "I don't want to hurt you." "I'm sure. You probably had some pain the first time a man entered you, didn't you?"
"Yeah. For a minute or so it hurt like hell, but then it stopped hurting and it felt wonderful having his hard cock in me."
"I'm hoping that's what I'm about to experience. The pain is already past. Start sliding in and out slowly."
Wonder filled Paro's eyes as she slowly slid her clit almost all the way out of my penis and then slid it back in. It must have felt good to her; the smile she gave me was one of pure bliss.
I also began to feel a pleasant sensation in my penis. I cannot describe it; I have nothing else with which to compare it, but as it grew, I knew I liked it. The flow of my pre-come increased, and
my urethra seemed to dilate making the reaming of my penis by Paro's clitoris not just comfortable, but delightful. I began moving my pelvis to meet her invading clit on its inward
stroke.
Paro's clitoris seemed to swell inside my penis. It also seemed to pulse. When this happened, Paro gritted her teeth, grimaced and began to keen. I've heard many women vocalize during an orgasm. None made the deep, guttural noises that came from Paro as she had that orgasm.
Watching and feeling Paro climax triggered my orgasm. Her clitoris inside my penis failed to occlude my urethra enough to force my semen backward into my bladder. Instead, it burst out around the shaft of her clitoris and splashed against her widely splayed labia and her mons.
I cannot describe that orgasm. I have never had another one like it.
I still do not know that I felt what a woman feels when she has a man's penis inside her vagina, but I know that I enjoyed it.
Paro seemed shaken and subdued when she pulled her clitoris from my penis. A few minutes later she told me her orgasm had been wonderful, but totally unlike any orgasm she had ever had before. She also told me that she was embarrassed and ashamed, that she felt that what we had done was un-natural and perverted.
I tried to comfort her, but she was in such a deep funk that nothing I said consoled her. She dressed and left. I've not seen her since that night. I tried calling her, but Trish, her roommate said that Paro had left and that she didn't know where she had gone.
I feel sorry for Paro.
I often think about her, and about the role reversal we engaged in that night. I've never found another woman endowed with a clitoris like Paro's so I've never re-experienced that kind of intercourse. Sometimes I think I would like to do it again, but then I think about the way Paro panicked afterward, and the emotional hurt she had. I would not want to hurt another woman in that manner.
Paro, wherever you are; I wish you the best. Joseph Jacquekov
My name is Paro. Recently a friend of mine gave me a copy of the story Role Reversal by Joseph Jacquekov. I am the woman he wrote about. As Joseph said at the end of his story, I freaked out after we had fucked and left. I didn’t just leave his house; I left the state. I’ve not seen him since, and don’t want to see him. But, I think I need to give you my take on that night’s events.
Joseph is at least ten years older than I am. I don’t usually date men that old, and when I first met him at a friend’s barbeque party, I had no idea that I would not only date him, but go to bed with him.
Joseph is not like any other man I’ve ever met. He does not make an obvious move on a girl. He blind sides her, and before she knows what has happened, he has her in his bed fucking like a bunny rabbit.
Like I said, we met at a friend’s barbeque party. It was late afternoon on the Fourth of July 1988. Jenny and her husband Larry had invited about two dozen of their friends and neighbors to a get together around their swimming pool. They had grilled meat of several different kinds, three or four kinds of salad, pinto beans in a chili sauce, and too many kinds of alcohol to even try to tell you what they had. A
neighborhood kid whose hobby was playing disc jockey had his stereo equipment set up and was playing
whatever music the guests requested. It was a great party.
I had just filled my plate with food and was looking for a place at a table where I could eat. The only vacant spot was at a cocktail table next to an old man. I wasn’t thrilled about sitting with him, but it was either sit with him, or stand up to eat. You can’t use a knife and fork while standing with no place but your hands for your plate. I went over and asked if I could sit with him.
He smiled and said, “Young lady, I would be delighted to have your company.” He got up, pulled the chair back a little so that I could sit, and then moved it forward just enough to touch the back of my leg so that I knew I could sit without falling on my butt. No one had ever done that for me before. Young guys just don’t think about that. I guess they’ve bought the feminist BS that real women don’t want to be treated like that.
As we sat eating, we introduced ourselves and then began to talk.
I’ll give this to Joseph; he is fun to talk to. Although he’s knowledgeable about a great many things, he does not dominate a conversation. He lets the other person talk, and he listens – he really listens. Not many people do that. And, somehow, he keeps the conversation going. He makes comments, or asks questions, that make the person he’s talking to feel that he is hanging on their words, and keeps them talking. The old bastard really knows how to stroke a person’s ego.
Joseph doesn’t talk loudly. To hear him, you have to lean closer to him. And, all the time that you are talking with him, he’s looking into your eyes. You can’t help but to look back into his eyes. The effect of that is hypnotic. After a few minutes, I really felt attached to him. He made me feel good and appreciated. He had not said anything to make me think he was trying to get in my pants. He was a perfect gentleman. He kept me talking about things I wanted to talk about, and he made me feel that he was really, really interested. I liked him.
“Paro,” he asked, “May I bring you something to drink?” “Yes, please. A glass of white wine.”
After he returned from the bar and gave me my glass of wine, he sipped from his beer. Unlike most men, he drank it from a glass instead of from the bottle. I must have been staring because he said, “I can’t stand beer directly from a bottle or a can. While in Germany, I got in the habit of drinking it from a stein. I have to agree with the Germans; you can’t really get the flavor of a beer unless you get your nose in the glass and can smell it.”
For some reason, I enjoyed talking with Joseph. I’d been at the party almost two hours and had not even thought about finding someone else to schmoose with.
Then he surprised me. “Paro, may I take you to dinner Friday evening? I’ve so enjoyed talking with you. I’d like to get to know you better.” I didn’t know what to say. I liked him. He seemed to like me. It was comfortable talking with him. After chasing answers around in my head for almost a minute, I told him yes. I gave him my address and he said he would pick me up at six.
He rang the doorbell at my apartment exactly at six Friday evening. He was wearing a summer suit: white linen. His tie, can you believe it, was a bow tie. He had a straw hat tucked under his left arm, and had a bouquet of summer flowers in his right hand. He looked like someone out of one of the old romance novels my grandmother had. They had been written around the turn of the century and were illustrated with pen and ink sketches, rather than photos. Looking at the way he was dressed, I felt that my slacks and off the shoulder blouse looked wrong for our evening together. I said, “Come in and have a seat. I need to change into a dress.” “Oh, nonsense. You look perfectly lovely dressed as you are.”
“Thank you,” I said, “But, I’d feel better in a dress.”
“Okay. While you are changing, may I put these flowers in a vase for you?”
I took him into the kitchen, got down a vase, and gave him a pair of kitchen scissors and a packet of flower fresh. I then went to my bedroom to change. When I came out, I was wearing a paisley print dress that I thought complimented his ‘British look.’ When he saw me, he smiled and said, “Paro, my dear, you look gorgeous. You should dress like that more often.” I thrilled at the compliment.
Joseph took me to a restaurant that he said was as much like a French bistro as could be found west of New York. I had never eaten French food before, and cannot even begin to pronounce the names of the things we ate.
I almost gagged when the waiter brought out the appetizer and set it in front of me. It was snails, great big snails in their shells. The shells were upside down on a little metal plate with holes in it for the shells to sit in. There was something black in each shell, and around that black spot there was partly melted butter with little flecks of green in it. A tiny two pronged fork lay on the dish next to the snails. Joseph sensed my discomfort and said, “Paro, this is escargot. It is a marvelous, highly prized delicacy all over Europe. I think you will like it. If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it.”
I tried it. I liked it. I ate all six snails. They were not slimy; they had a slightly fish like flavor which by itself was nothing to brag about, but that garlicky butter sauce with parsley and white wine in it was to die
for. Everything Joseph ordered was wonderful. And, God! The pastry we had for dessert.
After dinner, Joseph took me to a theater for a stage play, not a movie, an honest to goodness stage play. He said it was an avant garde production by an acquaintance of his. The play had a couple of suggestive sex scenes in it, but was such a hilarious comedy that those sex scenes just were there to pull
the rest of the play together.
When Joseph took me home, I asked him in. At dinner, and again during the intermission at the theater, I had drunk enough champagne that I was feeling mellow, and I’m sorry to say – sexy. Joseph had done nothing to make me feel he was seducing me, but everything he had done had made me feel good. He had paid attention to me in a way that no other man I had ever been out with had done. He made me feel… Well, he made me feel loved. He made me feel like a woman, a woman who was appreciated. I liked the feeling.
We sat and talked a while. To my surprise, I was the one who turned the conversation to sex. As always, Joseph said little, but made sure I talked a lot. Damn that man. He drew things out of me that I had never said to anyone before, things that were my deepest, darkest thoughts about sex.
He never said anything judgmental about the things I told him. He just kept me talking, and the more I talked the hornier I got. I felt my nipples stiffen and press against my dress top. I wasn’t wearing a bra and I knew Joseph could see the little tents my hard nips were making. He didn’t say anything, but I could see in his eyes that he had noticed, and that he liked what he saw. That made me even hotter. I was getting wet.
I, I couldn’t help my self. I kissed Joseph. He returned the kiss. He didn’t do it like the young guys I had kissed in the past. He didn’t use the kiss as permission to begin pawing me and trying to bang my mouth with his tongue. Just as he kept me talking, he was now keeping me kissing him. He was accepting my kiss with a quiet passion that just made me want to give him more. He wasn’t really passive. That would have turned me off, but he down played his response just enough to keep me pressing for more. The son of a bitch was making me seduce my self, and I was enjoying it so much that I couldn’t stop. That was the first time I went to bed with Joseph. When he left shortly after midnight, I was weak kneed. I
had come so many times, and so hard. God! That man can eat pussy. As I bathed and got ready for bed, I
knew that I’d let him fuck me again, and again, and again.
I did – until the night we switched roles. We had talked about our fantasies several times, and both said we had often wondered what the other person felt while we were fucking.
My clit is huge. That is, it is long. It is almost two inches long, and it is about the size of a pencil in diameter. Joseph loved playing with it. He gave me blow jobs like I was used to giving to the guys I dated. You wouldn’t believe the way that man can make a girl come.
Anyway, after talking a while, Joseph suggested that we live our fantasy and find out what it feels like to fuck like a member of the opposite sex. I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t. He told me he wanted me to stick my clit inside his cock. He wanted me to pretend I was a man, and he would pretend to be a woman, and we would fuck.
I almost freaked out then, but he had gotten me so horny by sucking my clit until I was just about to come and then backing off before I could, that I was ready to do anything if it would make me come. I had to get off.
Joseph got on his back and held his cock so that it was pointing down toward his feet at an angle that was just right for me to stick my clit into him.
I put my clit against the tip of his cock and spread his pre-come all over my shaft and around the head of his dick. That felt good, and it turned me on enough that I overcame the feeling that we were doing something perverted.
I put the head of my clit in his pee hole and began pushing in. It must have hurt him, but he didn’t say anything. I just saw his jaws tighten. I asked if he wanted me to stop, but he shook his head, and told me
to go ahead.
When the whole thing was in his cock, he said, “Hold still for just a moment. Let me get used to having you in me.”
A little bit later he told me to start fucking him. I pulled back until just the tip of my clit was still in his cock head, and then slid all the way into him again. Oh, that felt good. If that’s really what a man feels when he fucks a woman, it’s no wonder that they all want to lay every woman they meet.
We didn’t fuck very long. My orgasm came on too fast. I had never had one that felt like that one. It was wonderful, but so powerful and so strange that it scared me shitless.
My orgasm made Joseph come too. His come shot out around my clit and splashed all over my pussy. I had never felt anything like what I felt as his come squirted past my clit. It just made my orgasm the most mind-blowing orgasm I had ever had.
I was so drained. I almost fainted. Then the guilt hit me. What we had done seemed so wrong, so perverted. I was so ashamed. I got off him, got dressed, and went home. I couldn’t sleep that night. I cried and cried. In the morning, I told my room mate I was leaving. I packed my stuff into my car and drove away. Three days later, I was in California.
Thankfully, I had a few thousand dollars in the bank, and lived off my savings until I found a job at a Farmer’s Insurance agency. I also found a shrink and began therapy. I’m better now, and have begun dating again.
Yes, I let some of the guys I date fuck me. No, I haven’t fucked any of them the way I fucked Joseph, and
I doubt that I ever will. But – I dream about it. Boy do I dream about it. When I do, I wake up soaked in
sweat and having one hell of an orgasm.
I wonder if those orgasms are like the ones a guy has when he has a wet dream?
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