Moira & Michael By Dchatterly ?1999
This is a short true story about the first date between Moira and Michael as told to Stephen and me by Moira. She is 34, has been married to Tom for seven years and was a virgin up until they met. The whole thing was Tom's idea and arranged by him. Michael is Tom's squash playing partner.
Yes! yes! and yes! On Wednesday evening Tom (my husband) spoke to Michael (my intended).
They didn't bother with the squash game, but relaxed instead at Michael's flat. As Tom promised they would, they smoked some hash and sipped some spirits. Tom said that after 30 or so minutes he found it so easy to talk with Michael, that he related the story almost as planned. Michael was convinced it was a joke on his part - mainly because I have only met him a few times, and he was unsure that I could have formed an opinion about him. Suspicious I suppose, understandable, sure. But the more Tom kept up the chain off conversation; he thinks that Michael was more, much more than interested - Really. They parted on good terms, with the idea planted firmly in his head. Tom suggested we meet the next week sometime. Tuesday or Wednesday. He seems so excited by it.
I'd seen the kids off to bed. Michael has stressed that he will merely talk to me if we meet, to find out my side of the circumstance. Tom said also that he felt some of the evening produced a heavily charged sexual aura (his words) - that he knew that he (definitely) and Michael, at the very least, were enjoying the discussion, along with the grass etc. He showed him a picture of me in lying on our bed in white stockings and suspenders. This, he stresses, gave him an immediate thrill, and he could sense, although Michael showed trepidation, he ogled it mightily, and stuttered and giggled quite plentifully. By the end of their time together, he was quite together with the idea of befriending me. I suppose the next move is mine to make.
After everything was said about their short time together, I reinforced my promise to Tom that he will not be the next man to have me. This teased him to the point I wanted and he ejaculated without any effort on my part into the inside of his underwear.
Climax, climax, I yearn for a climax.
Might as well tell you firstly that Tom is fine, great, and ecstatic even - like a child on Christmas morning. Despite the fact I returned at about 4.30am, later than I had implied - I fell asleep in his (yes Michael's) arms; in his bed, naked and tranquil, settled, relaxed and almost unburdened - like I could challenge the world. I make it sound like it was all plain sailing - it wasn't quite like that, but hell, you can't go on a journey without taking a few wrong turns along the way. And this was a pilgrimage for me, a voyage of discovery, of uncharted territory. Talk about worlds and oysters, heck there aint no stopping me now..my deep rooted anxieties, hang-ups - bye bye. Today I exude confidence, reshaped vanity. I have worth for all to see. I came, I saw, I conquered, and I came.
But let me get on with telling you:
I gathered my thoughts and sipped on some wine whilst Tom ran the kids to their grandparents. Not much to report here. I was quietly nervous, but controlled and outwardly very calm. He was away a while, so I took the time to prepare all by myself. I took a leisurely bath. I must tell you at this point that I kind of believed I would not end up having sex with Michael later on. I just could not envisage it happening. But I washed thoroughly nonetheless. You have to remember also that I am new, naive really, when it comes to planning a romantic evening with somebody I hardly know. It felt silly. Again, I was feeling younger than I deserved to feel. Enjoy Moira, I thought, you will enjoy the thrill, it is the excitement I have been yearning.
Tom returned. He'd been delayed, having to chat to his own (very elderly ((deaf)) grandmother). He was panicking, worrying, rushing to ensure I managed to depart. I was in the process of buttoning a red blouse when he paused to take in the sight of his wife in mid preparation for her `first date'. Confusing images.
We chatted nonchalantly whilst I busied myself, almost refraining from reminding ourselves of the obvious. He was more nervous than me; I could see him visibly shaking as he lifted a glass - poor sod.
I insisted on a taxi - don't know why - I just did.
Bye, I smiled, gave him a look I find hard to describe, a kind of wide-eyed and excited gleam, a familiar gesture for us I suppose. I think I gave him that look before I attended the interview for my job. I forgot to peck his cheek, forgot to say `I love you' - I had worries of my own.
Anyway
Arrived pub, 8.07 I think. Late anyway. Michael sat just at the door, a small glass of spirit in hand (Canadian Club). He gives me a truly nervous smile, stands up, sits down, and basically does not know what to do. Finally he suggests he gets me a drink. He does.
Then we're together. I do all the running to start with; talk about work, holidays, squash. He's particularly interested in learning about my work. The conversation was fine really, we gelled OK, had similarities; he's genuinely intelligent, and basically really timid. He only moved out from his parents home about three months ago.
He brings up the strangeness of the situation. I agree, and apologise, saying it has arisen because of many things, partly our sex life (first mention of sex), and basically that Tom feels I have never had much interaction socially with males. He nods; displays empathy - reminding me of his own under-development in this area. Well this is good for both of us, I say, and place a hand over one of his. Gulp!
The evening wore on. The conversation flowed, much of which I cannot even recall right now. He, not me, suggested I might fancy a coffee before heading back home. Think I'd had about 5 measures of spirit by the time. I more than eagerly accepted his invitation saying that Tom had raved on about his flat. It was about 10.15 or so - he called the taxi.
Never saw any coffee's, but was presented a copious measure of - his tipple - Canadian Club. His flat was amazing: the security, the entrance hall, and the elevator - operated by a key actually opened up right into his hallway.
I looked around the lounge, drink in hand, nosing in every corner, whilst he sat amused at my delight with his decor etc. The next part was my doing, of course - no I never asked to see the bedroom - I chose to sit directly next to him. I could have sat in any of the many available seats, but chose to go where he sat - a two-seater - lovely smelling leather couch.
We chatted about the flat. He said he would show me it all - I laughed, paused, sipped my glass, paused again and met his eye. Maybe later, I said.
This is where we kissed. It happened, so naturally, carefully, and with an unhesitating ease. We kissed without separation for almost an eternity. Really. It felt as if. Suddenly I realised in my head that this guy really was unsure how to progress. So cleanly shaven, scented sweetly. My hands got a bit more intimate. The lingering kiss managed to evolve into a glorious prelude. Finally his hands found my body to be responsive, over my blouse, as they dared to explore the swell made perfect by the push up bra I wore. I found I couldn't stop from expressing my approval (in words). I hurried up the process, helping him unbutton me, directing him to the warm carpet on the floor. My skirt was halfway drawn up anyway, but I unclasped it at the rear as we journeyed downward. This is where we drew apart - looking hungrily over each other. Fuck, I felt fit to burst; my lips were totally numb from kissing, tingling frantically, as he pulled the blouse over my shoulders. My breasts, I'm sure, were engorged more than I could ever remember, almost pouring from the tight new bra. This felt like nothing I'd felt. Nothing from memory. Although I know that the first time with a new partner does create a novel unique excitement, I was unprepared for this. I think, in the early days, with Tom, I'd been too worried with other things to enjoy it as I should have. But, hell this was a good feeling - really.
I thought we might have done it right there and then, but Michael suggested quite coolly, that now would be a good time to see his bedroom; and who was I to stand in the way of progress? He took my hand and led me through a door. Still wearing my stockings, bra and pants - I swayed alongside to where he beckoned.
His bedroom was so vast, yet tidy and almost empty of furnishing. It was a huge bed that we quickly collapsed onto. He continued, starting from where we had left off, with growing confidence, hands not shy at feeling, especially the uncovered flesh below my pants - he seemed to enjoy gently caressing this area.
As our hips collided together, I was aware of his cock, still below his clothes. I rubbed over the front of his trousers, eventually getting around to unbuttoning, and carefully sliding down his trouser zip. My heart was beating out of control.
I soon had him in my hand. The first thing I recall is the tip of his cock was extremely wet. I thought at first that perhaps he had ejaculated, but he was so very hard, and I was instantly aware of the thickness it possessed - and smoothness - not overly veined - but so sleek to the touch. Up to the point when we were actually fucking - and we were, soon after this - is kind of a blur. I will not attempt, right now, to try and remember it exactly. He didn't attempt to lick me, nor did I expect him to. There was no oral stimulation between us both. I remember lifting my bottom from the floor to allow him to pull down my pants - he massaged me tenderly, finding my clitoris with no fuss - I kept my stockings on - I was so ready, I mean, I'm usually so wet in this type of situation, but I felt so eager now to have him enter me with his cock - God I desired to be ravished. I was so ready - almost too eager, almost too forceful. He lay on me; I reached my hands between us, and eased him inside. God - I do remember this point. It felt oh so different - really weird. I DO BELIEVE I CAME. As he thrust into me, slowly, controlled, evenly - It certainly was a different sensation, sending warmth from my vagina, around the whole area, which drifted up my body right through my stomach - tingling over me. Every time he pushed his hips against me, I'm sure he elevated further; deeper. I was noisy too, I remember that clear enough, something else that is not usually a characteristic of mine. Along with every movement. The way in which it was different from what I know. Whereas Tom's cock is as long, I think, it certainly is not as substantial; wide, I suppose - solid. This, I see now, is the difference in the sensation - I recall the feeling of being stretched even, widened - so nice to experience, such a real feeling - beautiful - warmth, floating radiance about me - I was in a flush, considerably.
He used a finger, to rouse my clitoris (another manifestation Tom has never). I instinctively wrapped my legs over him at one point, when I sensed another of that enveloping sensation in development, - ANOTHER ORGASM I'M SURE!!!??? He increased his motion into me, I reciprocated - it was joyous - to be remembered. He told me when he was about to come, I held onto his body tightly, allowed him to. He tensed so firmly, and lingered a thrust, yelped a bit - but searched for my lips to express his recognition of a heavenly moment - and it was. We continued kissing, until our mouths could not escape from smiling; eyes wide, noticing each other - softly now, brushing our lips - it was quite a tender moment. I felt so relaxed that I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep. It must have been an hour before waking. Michael was out the room. I heard the toilet flushing; the light was off. He appeared back, asking if I was all right. I informed him I was feeling wonderful, and invited him to lie with me again. We ended up kissing and caressing, but not with the same enthusiasm as witnessed before. I positioned myself on top, and we played at making love for a few moments. I think we were both a bit worried about the time, and the circumstance, more aware of the act - unable to relax now. But we decided to end the evening, and called a taxi for me about 4 am.
We parted, showing no embarrassment between us, agreeing we would arrange another evening. He expressed his worry about Tom, but I eased his concern - admitting that Tom would be more than happy.
He gave me a curious look, but I think he understands.
To be truthful, I could not really ascertain whether he was lacking in experience - he seemed fine to me, but of course I am not an authority in these things - it was a wonderful experience - a memory I will hold and cherish fondly.
Tom was in bed, but wide-awake when I arrived home. I beamed, literally beamed at him as I let him know that I was no longer a `virgin'. I remember saying that I would soon catch him up, referring to the fact he has had about eight lovers before me. He was shaking; trembling as I stood over our bed. I undressed, certainly not feeling like accommodating him inside me at this point - he made a grab for between my legs the instant I removed my pants - I could tell just how turned on he was. He kept asking me if I came, how big was Michael, how many times; Christ he was awash with questions. I never straddled his face like I had planned to do (somehow I just did not feel like doing so). He pulled me on him as soon as I had finished undressing, grabbing me with fervour. I don't think he knew what to do next. I suddenly wished to have him in me now - just quickly like I knew it would be - to feel the difference, while it was still clear in my head. I asked if he wanted to fuck me, knowing I'd had Michael. He wanted to lick me - but I just wanted to make him cum, then sleep. I allowed him to view me, between my legs, he pushed a finger into my (extreme) wetness - I did become aroused - thinking of the control I possessed, and he asked me the questions over again - wanting detail, every detail, as he continued to finger me - remarking that he could tell, that he knew by the sight of my open cunt I'd had sex (not that I'd denied it). He was all a-quiver, really. It was extraordinary, but not too unlike the way he is whilst fantasising about it. When I climbed on top of him and let him enter me, he came at once - quite powerfully - inside me. I must admit to being very excited at the thoughts I experienced, the idea that two men had ejaculated into me - not into a condom - but into me. Tom was attempting to draw himself out - as is normal practise for us - but I stopped him, and found it thrilling to dwell on this lurid image of their sperm mingling inside me.
Please send comments, remarks, complaints, praise, disgust, good cheer, .and whether you actually think there is more to life than taking vitamin C. DChatterly@Simpsons.com 1999 All rights reserved ?Dchatterly
This is a short true story about the first date between Moira and Michael as told to Stephen and me by Moira. She is 34, has been married to Tom for seven years and was a virgin up until they met. The whole thing was Tom's idea and arranged by him. Michael is Tom's squash playing partner.
Yes! yes! and yes! On Wednesday evening Tom (my husband) spoke to Michael (my intended).
They didn't bother with the squash game, but relaxed instead at Michael's flat. As Tom promised they would, they smoked some hash and sipped some spirits. Tom said that after 30 or so minutes he found it so easy to talk with Michael, that he related the story almost as planned. Michael was convinced it was a joke on his part - mainly because I have only met him a few times, and he was unsure that I could have formed an opinion about him. Suspicious I suppose, understandable, sure. But the more Tom kept up the chain off conversation; he thinks that Michael was more, much more than interested - Really. They parted on good terms, with the idea planted firmly in his head. Tom suggested we meet the next week sometime. Tuesday or Wednesday. He seems so excited by it.
I'd seen the kids off to bed. Michael has stressed that he will merely talk to me if we meet, to find out my side of the circumstance. Tom said also that he felt some of the evening produced a heavily charged sexual aura (his words) - that he knew that he (definitely) and Michael, at the very least, were enjoying the discussion, along with the grass etc. He showed him a picture of me in lying on our bed in white stockings and suspenders. This, he stresses, gave him an immediate thrill, and he could sense, although Michael showed trepidation, he ogled it mightily, and stuttered and giggled quite plentifully. By the end of their time together, he was quite together with the idea of befriending me. I suppose the next move is mine to make.
After everything was said about their short time together, I reinforced my promise to Tom that he will not be the next man to have me. This teased him to the point I wanted and he ejaculated without any effort on my part into the inside of his underwear.
Climax, climax, I yearn for a climax.
Might as well tell you firstly that Tom is fine, great, and ecstatic even - like a child on Christmas morning. Despite the fact I returned at about 4.30am, later than I had implied - I fell asleep in his (yes Michael's) arms; in his bed, naked and tranquil, settled, relaxed and almost unburdened - like I could challenge the world. I make it sound like it was all plain sailing - it wasn't quite like that, but hell, you can't go on a journey without taking a few wrong turns along the way. And this was a pilgrimage for me, a voyage of discovery, of uncharted territory. Talk about worlds and oysters, heck there aint no stopping me now..my deep rooted anxieties, hang-ups - bye bye. Today I exude confidence, reshaped vanity. I have worth for all to see. I came, I saw, I conquered, and I came.
But let me get on with telling you:
I gathered my thoughts and sipped on some wine whilst Tom ran the kids to their grandparents. Not much to report here. I was quietly nervous, but controlled and outwardly very calm. He was away a while, so I took the time to prepare all by myself. I took a leisurely bath. I must tell you at this point that I kind of believed I would not end up having sex with Michael later on. I just could not envisage it happening. But I washed thoroughly nonetheless. You have to remember also that I am new, naive really, when it comes to planning a romantic evening with somebody I hardly know. It felt silly. Again, I was feeling younger than I deserved to feel. Enjoy Moira, I thought, you will enjoy the thrill, it is the excitement I have been yearning.
Tom returned. He'd been delayed, having to chat to his own (very elderly ((deaf)) grandmother). He was panicking, worrying, rushing to ensure I managed to depart. I was in the process of buttoning a red blouse when he paused to take in the sight of his wife in mid preparation for her `first date'. Confusing images.
We chatted nonchalantly whilst I busied myself, almost refraining from reminding ourselves of the obvious. He was more nervous than me; I could see him visibly shaking as he lifted a glass - poor sod.
I insisted on a taxi - don't know why - I just did.
Bye, I smiled, gave him a look I find hard to describe, a kind of wide-eyed and excited gleam, a familiar gesture for us I suppose. I think I gave him that look before I attended the interview for my job. I forgot to peck his cheek, forgot to say `I love you' - I had worries of my own.
Anyway
Arrived pub, 8.07 I think. Late anyway. Michael sat just at the door, a small glass of spirit in hand (Canadian Club). He gives me a truly nervous smile, stands up, sits down, and basically does not know what to do. Finally he suggests he gets me a drink. He does.
Then we're together. I do all the running to start with; talk about work, holidays, squash. He's particularly interested in learning about my work. The conversation was fine really, we gelled OK, had similarities; he's genuinely intelligent, and basically really timid. He only moved out from his parents home about three months ago.
He brings up the strangeness of the situation. I agree, and apologise, saying it has arisen because of many things, partly our sex life (first mention of sex), and basically that Tom feels I have never had much interaction socially with males. He nods; displays empathy - reminding me of his own under-development in this area. Well this is good for both of us, I say, and place a hand over one of his. Gulp!
The evening wore on. The conversation flowed, much of which I cannot even recall right now. He, not me, suggested I might fancy a coffee before heading back home. Think I'd had about 5 measures of spirit by the time. I more than eagerly accepted his invitation saying that Tom had raved on about his flat. It was about 10.15 or so - he called the taxi.
Never saw any coffee's, but was presented a copious measure of - his tipple - Canadian Club. His flat was amazing: the security, the entrance hall, and the elevator - operated by a key actually opened up right into his hallway.
I looked around the lounge, drink in hand, nosing in every corner, whilst he sat amused at my delight with his decor etc. The next part was my doing, of course - no I never asked to see the bedroom - I chose to sit directly next to him. I could have sat in any of the many available seats, but chose to go where he sat - a two-seater - lovely smelling leather couch.
We chatted about the flat. He said he would show me it all - I laughed, paused, sipped my glass, paused again and met his eye. Maybe later, I said.
This is where we kissed. It happened, so naturally, carefully, and with an unhesitating ease. We kissed without separation for almost an eternity. Really. It felt as if. Suddenly I realised in my head that this guy really was unsure how to progress. So cleanly shaven, scented sweetly. My hands got a bit more intimate. The lingering kiss managed to evolve into a glorious prelude. Finally his hands found my body to be responsive, over my blouse, as they dared to explore the swell made perfect by the push up bra I wore. I found I couldn't stop from expressing my approval (in words). I hurried up the process, helping him unbutton me, directing him to the warm carpet on the floor. My skirt was halfway drawn up anyway, but I unclasped it at the rear as we journeyed downward. This is where we drew apart - looking hungrily over each other. Fuck, I felt fit to burst; my lips were totally numb from kissing, tingling frantically, as he pulled the blouse over my shoulders. My breasts, I'm sure, were engorged more than I could ever remember, almost pouring from the tight new bra. This felt like nothing I'd felt. Nothing from memory. Although I know that the first time with a new partner does create a novel unique excitement, I was unprepared for this. I think, in the early days, with Tom, I'd been too worried with other things to enjoy it as I should have. But, hell this was a good feeling - really.
I thought we might have done it right there and then, but Michael suggested quite coolly, that now would be a good time to see his bedroom; and who was I to stand in the way of progress? He took my hand and led me through a door. Still wearing my stockings, bra and pants - I swayed alongside to where he beckoned.
His bedroom was so vast, yet tidy and almost empty of furnishing. It was a huge bed that we quickly collapsed onto. He continued, starting from where we had left off, with growing confidence, hands not shy at feeling, especially the uncovered flesh below my pants - he seemed to enjoy gently caressing this area.
As our hips collided together, I was aware of his cock, still below his clothes. I rubbed over the front of his trousers, eventually getting around to unbuttoning, and carefully sliding down his trouser zip. My heart was beating out of control.
I soon had him in my hand. The first thing I recall is the tip of his cock was extremely wet. I thought at first that perhaps he had ejaculated, but he was so very hard, and I was instantly aware of the thickness it possessed - and smoothness - not overly veined - but so sleek to the touch. Up to the point when we were actually fucking - and we were, soon after this - is kind of a blur. I will not attempt, right now, to try and remember it exactly. He didn't attempt to lick me, nor did I expect him to. There was no oral stimulation between us both. I remember lifting my bottom from the floor to allow him to pull down my pants - he massaged me tenderly, finding my clitoris with no fuss - I kept my stockings on - I was so ready, I mean, I'm usually so wet in this type of situation, but I felt so eager now to have him enter me with his cock - God I desired to be ravished. I was so ready - almost too eager, almost too forceful. He lay on me; I reached my hands between us, and eased him inside. God - I do remember this point. It felt oh so different - really weird. I DO BELIEVE I CAME. As he thrust into me, slowly, controlled, evenly - It certainly was a different sensation, sending warmth from my vagina, around the whole area, which drifted up my body right through my stomach - tingling over me. Every time he pushed his hips against me, I'm sure he elevated further; deeper. I was noisy too, I remember that clear enough, something else that is not usually a characteristic of mine. Along with every movement. The way in which it was different from what I know. Whereas Tom's cock is as long, I think, it certainly is not as substantial; wide, I suppose - solid. This, I see now, is the difference in the sensation - I recall the feeling of being stretched even, widened - so nice to experience, such a real feeling - beautiful - warmth, floating radiance about me - I was in a flush, considerably.
He used a finger, to rouse my clitoris (another manifestation Tom has never). I instinctively wrapped my legs over him at one point, when I sensed another of that enveloping sensation in development, - ANOTHER ORGASM I'M SURE!!!??? He increased his motion into me, I reciprocated - it was joyous - to be remembered. He told me when he was about to come, I held onto his body tightly, allowed him to. He tensed so firmly, and lingered a thrust, yelped a bit - but searched for my lips to express his recognition of a heavenly moment - and it was. We continued kissing, until our mouths could not escape from smiling; eyes wide, noticing each other - softly now, brushing our lips - it was quite a tender moment. I felt so relaxed that I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep. It must have been an hour before waking. Michael was out the room. I heard the toilet flushing; the light was off. He appeared back, asking if I was all right. I informed him I was feeling wonderful, and invited him to lie with me again. We ended up kissing and caressing, but not with the same enthusiasm as witnessed before. I positioned myself on top, and we played at making love for a few moments. I think we were both a bit worried about the time, and the circumstance, more aware of the act - unable to relax now. But we decided to end the evening, and called a taxi for me about 4 am.
We parted, showing no embarrassment between us, agreeing we would arrange another evening. He expressed his worry about Tom, but I eased his concern - admitting that Tom would be more than happy.
He gave me a curious look, but I think he understands.
To be truthful, I could not really ascertain whether he was lacking in experience - he seemed fine to me, but of course I am not an authority in these things - it was a wonderful experience - a memory I will hold and cherish fondly.
Tom was in bed, but wide-awake when I arrived home. I beamed, literally beamed at him as I let him know that I was no longer a `virgin'. I remember saying that I would soon catch him up, referring to the fact he has had about eight lovers before me. He was shaking; trembling as I stood over our bed. I undressed, certainly not feeling like accommodating him inside me at this point - he made a grab for between my legs the instant I removed my pants - I could tell just how turned on he was. He kept asking me if I came, how big was Michael, how many times; Christ he was awash with questions. I never straddled his face like I had planned to do (somehow I just did not feel like doing so). He pulled me on him as soon as I had finished undressing, grabbing me with fervour. I don't think he knew what to do next. I suddenly wished to have him in me now - just quickly like I knew it would be - to feel the difference, while it was still clear in my head. I asked if he wanted to fuck me, knowing I'd had Michael. He wanted to lick me - but I just wanted to make him cum, then sleep. I allowed him to view me, between my legs, he pushed a finger into my (extreme) wetness - I did become aroused - thinking of the control I possessed, and he asked me the questions over again - wanting detail, every detail, as he continued to finger me - remarking that he could tell, that he knew by the sight of my open cunt I'd had sex (not that I'd denied it). He was all a-quiver, really. It was extraordinary, but not too unlike the way he is whilst fantasising about it. When I climbed on top of him and let him enter me, he came at once - quite powerfully - inside me. I must admit to being very excited at the thoughts I experienced, the idea that two men had ejaculated into me - not into a condom - but into me. Tom was attempting to draw himself out - as is normal practise for us - but I stopped him, and found it thrilling to dwell on this lurid image of their sperm mingling inside me.
Please send comments, remarks, complaints, praise, disgust, good cheer, .and whether you actually think there is more to life than taking vitamin C. DChatterly@Simpsons.com 1999 All rights reserved ?Dchatterly
