|
Cathey 'n Me
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Downloaded from The French Connection BBS
CATHY "N" ME
The Adventures of a Sexual Zero
by Staghorn
Wwll, folks, this is my first real attempt to write an adult file....mind you,
not just a file with some risque things, but an adult file.......if you're
under 16, and your parents don't go for this stuff, don't blame me, I only
write these things.......
This is a true story, the names have been changed to protect the not-so-
innocent.
Cathy and I couldn't be different. I am a tall guy, around 5'10" or so, and I
have a very big presence, while Cathy is about 5'1", quiet, and very
introspective. However, there is a much wilder side to her I'm glad I get to
see now and again.
Well, I was at Cathy's house. We were both supposed to be in school, her in
her beautician school, me in John A. Coleman High School. I don't know why she
was off, I was off because I had some supposed illness which, of course, could
only be cured with outrageously expensive medicine by which Dr. ?ane intended
to retire early. But anyway, I got to her house and she answered, which
surprised me. I asked her why she wasn't in school, and she just shrugged her
shoulders. We laughed, and went up to her room, which is actually pretty
small. Just her bed, a dresser, the stereo I gave her, and her closet. I lay
down on her bed and just smiled at her.
She looked at me and said, "Great! Now where am I supposed to sit? and if you
dare say the floor, I'll kill you!"
I ran my hand along the bed, indicating that there was plenty of room next to
me. Cathy regarded me with one of those knowing stares that made me wish I
had never suggested such a concept, but complied.
She lay down next to me, and I was immediately caught up in her; the
bittersweet perfume she was wearing, the few strands of blonde hair that fell
across my face, the warmth of her body, her long, teasing eyelashes,
unfortunately, I had risen to the occasion already, and despite the resistance
of my jeans, it was quite obvious.
Cathy noticed this, and began her distinctly feminine goggle which made me
very uncomfortable. As my mind raced through hundreds of feelings and
reactions, she said, "Do I really turn you on that much?" I assured her that
she most certainly did.
"Tell me about it." she said coyly. I tell you, of all the times in my
relatively short life, I have never been so nervous. I knew plenty of things I
could say, but it had to be just the right thing. I hesitated, then said,
"Your....your hair is so wonderfully soft, like the golden silk of royalty."
(well, so much for a career in poetry!) I reached out and lightly stroked her
hair with my hand.
"Is that all?" she asked, almost playfully. At this point I wished to all
hell she would shut up so I wouldn't be put on the spot anymore. "I mean, is
my hair the only thing that turns you on?" she said.
"Most certainly not...." I said.
"Well, what else?" she asked.
"It's hard not to admire the gentle curves of your slender waist." I said,
wishing I could take it back. Her next action caught me quite off guard. She
wrapped her arm around the back of my neck and kissed me with force as I have
never felt before. I tried to match her passion, but since I had never felt
such passion before In my life, I doubt I did a very good job.
At this point I was extremely unsure of my own ability. I simply placed my
hands onto her waist and pulled the area directly above her navel with my
thumbs. She pulled out from fissing me and I was sure she was going to
backhand me when she let out a gasping sigh.
Now I never said I was a stud, and I can't really even say I have the sexual
prowess of the average gopher. However, when I heard her sigh like that,
something inside of me cought fire. I lifted off her tee-shirt and undid her
bra. Unfortunately, I had no idea of how a bra hooks together, so I sat there
fumbling for a while until she gracefully, seemingly in one hand motion, swept
her hand behinf herself and undid the clasp. Boy, did I feel embarrassed! But
that didn't stop the all-consuming fire inside of me. I dove my head down,
aiming for her right nipple.
However, I missed. My tongue hit more toward the center of her chest. But I
still sought out my target. I panicked. What now? Well, I kissed the focus of
my attention, then stretched it with my lips, then, while I stretched it,
rolled my tongue around it. She grabbed my head and ran her fingers through my
hair, a sensation I cannot really explain, except to say that I enjoyed it. I
then realized that further progress had to be made, if I was to leave Cathy
with memories of someone worthy of her.
I slid my tongue down her stomach, lingering on her navel, then unbuckled her
jeans. Her eyes glittered sinfully at this. I pulled off her jeans and
underwear and briefly admired her mound of venus before taking action.
A little voice inside my head said, "My God, man, don't lie there like a dolt!
Get out of neutral!" My tongue sped forth like a comet, hitting what I assume
was her clitoris. Though I am a relatively well-educated guy, I had never
pictured a clitoris as quite so large. For a moment I thought she might have
been one of those transsexuals and had a penis, but at this point I was so
turned on and riled up I didn't care. I stretched it with my lips, then rolled
my tongue around it as I had with her right nipple. Strangely, it didn't
occur to me that I was taking this all a bit fast. G-spot, I thought. Why the
hell can't I remember that stupid diagram! Oh well, I guessed I'd have to wing
it.
Sex is much like music: there are many different styles. There is "heavy
metal" sex, all too common these days, "classical" sex, which was common in
the eighteenth century, "country" sex, very common among married couples, and
then there's me. I suppose I fit in under "jazz" sex. I haven't the faintest
idea what I'm doing. I don't sit there beforehand with a chalkboard and map it
all out like a football coach. Like a jazz singer, I improvise. And like a
jazz singer, it came out not too bad.
I thrust my index and middle fingers in down to the knuckle and pressed in
gently. No special indication that I had struck gold. Grafenburg, why couldn't
you have put your spot in some obvious location, or at least left a small
brass plaque saying, "G-Spot ahead! Last one for 3 miles." or something like
that? Well, I twisted my fingers around, searching, hoping to "hit oil," until
I realized from her heated cries that she liked what I was doing! I then
continued twisting, also now pulling in and out, all the while kneading her
clit with my tongue.
This seemed to go on for years until finally my hand was wet with her juices.
"That was magnificent." she said. You cannot believe how relieved I was to
hear that! I was sure she would say something like, "Too rough" or laugh at
me.
Then she rolled over onto me, leaving me on my back, and unzipped my pants. I
could onlt anticipate what she was going to do, and the heat of anticipation
was killing me! She gently, like a mother cat carrying her kittens, pulled on
its head with her teeth. The sensation was incredible! It was the kind of
sensation that sends shivers down your spine. It certainly sent them down
mine! Then she kissed my rod, and licked it in its entirety. I understand this
was especially sweet of her as I, as I said before, am nothing to write home
to mother about, and I must not have been that exciting to please. I did my
best making it worthwhile, though, whispering words of encouragement to her,
telling her how much I loved and cherished her and especially how much I
enjoyed it.
It cought me a little aback when she stopped and whispered, "Shhh. All that
talk. Let your body talk for you." This was a good idea, so I cradled her head
in my hands, kneading her hair.
When I came, it was spectacular! I had heard of fireworks and rockets going
off when yourre with someone you love, but I hadn't expexted them to be quite
this good! When I finally came back down to earth, I thought, shall I? Should
I go for it?
My better judgement caught hold of me. I realized that we had no means of
birth control, and if we took such a risk, what would it do to our
relationship? Could I ever live with it? What if we broke up later? How would
that leave us feeling?
Despite my desire, I didn't have sex with Cathy. I'm sure everyone reading
this will be disappointed in me, or angry because they expected something
more. Perhaps Cathy and I will someday. And if we do, you members of TFC will
be the first to know.
Some people want to climb all the trees in the park of life. Others want to
have a statue of them placed in the center by the fountain. Still others are
so desperate for recognition that they spraypaint their names on the walls of
the caretaker's building. As for me, I'm just happy to have a bench to sit on
and a few pigeons to share my popcorn with.
If you liked this story, call me on the French Connection (914)-344-1255, user
code FRS.
|
|
