emotional

Steve and I had many adventures during our years at Uni. In fact we had a lot of adventures with a lot of people: including his girlfriend, Louise, who was the first girl I ever slept with. But of all the adventures, this was the one I was expecting least- the year before we left university for the outside world.



It was Christmas time and Steve was from far west in the UK, Devon. It was a long way away from where we were studying in London, and as such he didn’t get home much because it was a 6 or 7 hour drive or an impossible train journey, and anyway, he didn’t have a car. But as it was Christmas time, his dad was coming to pick him up.



Me and Steve had been sexual from the first time we met, during Freshers week. We’d done everything with each other- from petting to group sex- and he’d been responsible for my true sexual awakening. He had always been with Louise, but there was always a hint that maybe me and him were a better fit in some ways. We got on better that he and she did, they often had huge arguments and we didn’t, but it just never happened really. Not least, I suspect, because both Louise and he enjoyed fucking me so much, and because our party house, where we’d lived for three years at this point, was incredibly wild. Everyone was having sex with everyone else. There were 6 of us to start with, 3 boys and 3 girls, and we had ended up acquiring 2 more girls when two of the boys moved their girlfriends in. I had had sex with all 7 people in the house, and sometimes more than one at a time. Like I say, it was incredibly wild, and known all over the town for being sexually experimental.



However, just recently me and Steve had started having sex more alone, and doing it in secret. Louise had always known about me and Steve, but now we were sneaking around and locking ourselves in rooms or sneaking off to do it. Our house backed on to a large park, and some nights we would both wake at 2 or 3 in the morning and meet in the wilds of the park to have sex. And the sex had changed. We were still going at it like we always had: rough and with abandon. And it was still filthy. But a few times now, in fact a good few times, when we’d snuck off to do it in the park, or done it when we were alone in the house, the tone had changed. It was less about sexual gratification, less about pushing the boundaries and more about making one another happy. It was starting to feel like the love making I had often read about but never done, and I was beginning to think that maybe when uni ended we would end up together, but it was all very complicated currently. I was very confused.



That Christmas holiday, I was the only one left in the house other than Steve. I had to stay to work in my terrible Saturday job on December 23rd and was going home straight after. Steve too was waiting for his dad to drive and get him on the same day, so we were there a full week longer than the other 6 members of the house. I knew that it could actually be really good: Steve and I got on incredibly well, and having the house to ourselves all week, with no lectures to go to had to mean non-stop sex. In fact, I was rather hoping it would. But the problem of the ongoing indefinable nature of our relationship was becoming a problem, and I was feeling guilty and torn about Louise. Louise, who was the first girl I’d ever been with and who I had been very turned on by in the past, was becoming a problem in my life. This time last year we had been having sex on our own almost as much as Steve and I were now. There was never any suggestion of any romantic feeling between me and Louise, but we had gone to bed together a lot or had threesomes with Steve often. But now, the more she and Steve argued, the more I found myself on Steve’s side and the less Louise turned me on. By the time of this Christmas I hadn’t been with Louise in more than two months and it was me who was making excuses. In reality it was because I was falling for Steve, but I couldn’t admit that. Not even to myself.



I loved sex, still do, and back then I loved sex with anybody, girls, boys, girls and boys together…. Any combination. I was very adventurous and very orgasmic. I cum just from penetration and cum quickly and often. However, sex with Steve was different. From the first time we’d got off with one another on Freshers week, he had known exactly what to do, what to say, to turn me on. Who knows? Maybe that’s why I felt like I was falling for him.



This week looked set to be no exception, on the sex front though, and from about a week before he was clearly getting excited. In fact, a few days before the last member was set to leave the house, and on Louise’s last night before she went home, he sent me a text, which I read as I settled down to sleep:



“Glad Lou is leaving tomorrow. Can’t wait for it to just be me and you. You turn me on so much. Would say let’s meet in the park now but is snowy and we’ve got next week. Saving myself for you. Save yourself for me! : -)” I smiled as I read it and touched my naked pussy under the covers. I knew I needed to get a grip on my feelings, but that text had made my day.



And ever true to his word, three days later, from the moment the last member of the house had left on the Saturday night, he had jumped on me. Cathy pulled her suitcase out of the front door and called out,



“Have a nice Christmas you two!” from our respective parts of the house we had both shouted out our goodbyes. I was reading a book in my bedroom. The front door slammed and within seconds I heard Steve putting the dead-bolt on so that it couldn’t be opened from the outside. Hearing this, I composed my face and carried on reading, but hoped he was coming up to me. He ran up the stairs and towards my door.



“What are we going to do tonight, Steve?” I called. He arrived at my door, and shut it firmly behind him, pulling his jumper off as he did so.



“I can think of a few things.” He said. I laughed. I tried to act like I thought he was silly, but really I was longing for him.



“I meant more about dinner.” I said. He unbuckled his jeans and got on the bed with me. He pushed me down and kissed me, roughly, passionately.



“How can you think about dinner when we’ve got the whole house to ourselves?” I groaned as he pushed his fingers into my leggings and found me, already wet. I had shaved for him and had my best knickers on, but I wanted him to think that I wasn’t bothered. I smelt of Chanel No 5, and had worn it especially because I knew he loved the smell of it.



“We need to have a talk.” I said, from beneath the kisses. “We can’t keep doing this.” He rummaged inside my jumper for my boob. He moaned into my ear as he found it. “What about Louise?” But he didn’t answer, instead he just pulled my leggings and knickers off and buried his face in my snatch. We hadn’t been alone for a few weeks because of one thing and another, and as soon as he did that I wasn’t in the mood for talking either. I cried out and held his head in position.



That was just the beginning of that night. Soon he was in me and within the hour he had spunked all over my face and hair while I sucked him and fingered his arsehole. It was hardly love making, but it was intense and passionate and I didn’t care how he had me, as long as he had me. Laying on the bed, coming down from the many orgasms I’d had, Steve put forward an idea, how about we utilise the fact that nobody else was around to make a sex tape. I told him he was insane, but couldn’t stop laughing. This was truly brilliant in a truly typical-of-Steve way.



“What if someone finds it?” I objected, sweaty and breathless.



“No one will.” He said. “And if they do, everyone knows we’ve fucked. I can just say we did it pissed at some point. I won’t date stamp it!” I thought about it. I quite liked the idea of being filmed, and he was right, I mean, this wasn’t an affair. Even though it was starting to feel like one. One thing was for sure, I loved experimenting and Steve was the person I loved experimenting with most. I conceded that he was right and, excited, he lead me into his room, where loan and behold, his camcorder just happened to be ready and waiting. Just like everything with Steve, this was planned. I laughed- this had obviously been on his mind for a while.



He switched it on and held it in his hands, looking into the view finder.



“Touch yourself.” He said. I positioned myself on the bed, suddenly embarrassed. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, reading my thoughts, “You’ve got a beautiful body. Show it to me.” Hearted by the idea that he found me beautiful, and feeling suddenly beautiful, I shyly, gathered my 36FF breasts in my hands and stroked the nipples. “That’s it.” He said, approvingly. “Squeeze those big tits for me.” I closed my eyes and fondled them. “You’re hot, Michelle. Show me how turned on you are.” I was very turned on now, knowing the camera was capturing my every move. I opened my legs and touched myself with my right hand. I parted the lips of my pussy and slid in a finger. In a quieter voice than the one he had been using he said, “My God you’re beautiful.” And something in me stirred, but he clicked back into his porn voice quickly”Yeah, babe. That’s right. Show me that cunt.” I slid in another finger. “Frig yourself off for me, baby, make yourself cum.” Scarcely able to believe it myself, I found that I wanted to wank myself to orgasm for the camera, for Steve, I wanted it to see me at my sluttiest. “Tell me what you’re doing, Michelle.”



“I’m fucking my slutty little pussy for you.” I said, breathily, my hand getting faster, my fingers now on my clit.



“Mmmm yeah.” Steve said, behind the camera. “Is it tight in there?” He asked.



“So tight.” I replied, rubbing the nub of flesh above my hole. “So tight and wet. I need a cock in there.”



“You’ll get a cock in there.” He said. Don’t you worry. He walked over, still filming, and I carried on. He reached out and touched my boob. “I love this big boobs, Michelle.” He murmured. “I love sucking them and licking them. Do you like it when I do that?” I was hot with desire now, as my right hand continued to rub and rub at my hot little bean, as if my life depended on it.



“Yeah, I love it when you suck them and I love it when you put your cock between them and tit-fuck me and cum all over my face.” I noticed, with interest, that his cock was hard and standing to attention again.



“You’re so nasty.” He said, zooming in on my hand with the camera. “I’m going to destroy your cunt and your arsehole. How do you like that?”



“Fucking stick it in all my holes,” I said, nearly at the point of no return, “stick it in my dirty little cunt and my tight little arsehole and fucking fill me with your jizz!” I lost it and came, hot liquid gushing out of my pussy and onto the bed. Steve turned around and placed the camera on the chest of drawers, so it had a square view of the bed. The little red light assured me that the all seeing eye was still watching my every move. I lay, breathless and hot. He stood over me, his big rod standing to attention.



“Suck this.” He said. I gladly obliged, taking it in my hand and taking it to the back of my throat and choking on it, making the noises I knew turned him on.



He fucked my throat for a good five minutes before deciding that the camera needed to see me in all my glory, on all fours, getting fucked like a dog. I was sweaty and covering in running mascara and his previous load was still sticky on my face. He knew all too well that this was one of my favourite positions and that I would cum within seconds of his prick entering my honey pot from behind. Pulling my long, red hair and shouting obscenities I knew that my cunt was taking its toll on him as he swore and groaned and grunted as I came and came and came.



“You dirty fucking whore.” He said, crying out in rhythm with his thrusts and the convulsions of my orgasming vagina.” There’s nothing you don’t fucking love!” He slapped my arse and I screamed with pleasure.



“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” I yelled, having forgotten the camera was even on. He continued to oblige, and my big tits swung beneath me. I lifted a hand and frigged my clit as he continued to bang me, his balls slapping me wetly with each stroke. I thought that he might cum too, but he very abruptly stopped and suddenly pulled his still hard cock out.



“I want to cum in your arse.” He declared, and I smiled. No pretentions here. He went over to the chest of drawers and picked up the camera. “And I’m going to film it from my point of view.” Filthy bastard. He came back behind me, and I remained in my position on all fours. He spat in my bum hole, and I felt the warm saliva dribble into my arse. “No fucking lube for this slut.” He said, presumably for the cameras benefit. I moaned. He lined his dick up with my rosebud. I moaned more as the first half an inch glided in.



“Argggggh.” I moaned, my head in the mattress beneath me.



“Man, that’s a tight fit.” He said, filming each painful inch as it invaded me. “You love that, you fucking slut.” I merely groaned in agreement. Within 30seconds he was all the way in and the pain began to subside as he picked up his pace. “Mmm, yeah.” He said, building up a rhythm. “Look at that fucking arse.” He sawed his cock in and out. “Such a tight fucking arse.” I rubbed my clitoris. “My arse. My little fucking arse that I fucked the virginity out of.” It was true, he had been the first man to take my arse, nearly three years before. Truth be told he was still the best I’d had in there, too. I knew he wouldn’t last very long in my bum, he never did, so I rubbed myself desperately to orgasm. Waiting for the inevitable cry that he was going to cum. Sure enough, just as I pushed my own hot box over the edge, he started to cum, withdrawing it as it began to spasm to show the camera. “I’m cumming all over you, you filthy whore!”



The camera got everything, and lying on the bed, sweaty and satisfied, we laughed at what it would be like to watch it back. The porny atmosphere of moments before had dissipated and we were back to being best friends who had incredible sex.



“Let’s have a shower and get a Chinese and then we can watch it later.” He suggested. I concurred.



We got in the shower together, and as he soaped up my hair with pink shampoo, he said what I had been thinking earlier in the day. “You know Michelle, I don’t think I should be with Louise anymore. I’ve been thinking this for a while.” I bit my lip. Reaching for the sponge. I rubbed soap on it and soaped up his chest. I enjoyed washing him, and noted how lovely his skin was as I rubbed the soapy mass in circles. I wanted to kiss his chest, I thought.



“Right.” I said. “Okay.” Trying not to betray any emotion.



“It’s not that we aren’t getting on.” He continued. “I mean, no more than usual,” a reference to their rows, “it’s just,” he seemed to be building up to something. “I want to be with you.” I turned around, seemingly to pick up the conditioner, but actually to compose my features. I had been thinking about nothing else for weeks. I didn’t say anything. I just stood and breathed and my head swum and I felt sick. Moments past and all that could be heard was the sound of the shower. “Have I just fucked everything up between us?” He asked, weakly.



“I want to be with you too,” I said, still not looking at him, “but it’s impossible Steve. What about the house?” He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me around. The warm water continued to splash down on us. “Uni’s over in six months.” He breathed in, I looked up at him. “And I’m in love with you.” He bent down and kissed me, tenderly, lovingly. I relaxed into the kiss. Despite everything that had gone on that evening, it was the most intimate thing we’d done. I felt like the world had suddenly exploded into technicolour.



And so we were in love. We agreed. And sat on the bed only minutes later, we started making plans. He rubbed my hair with a towel.



“No more sex with other people.” He said. “Unless it’s in a three or as a group and we both want it.” I nodded. I had experimented but I was getting tired of the constant bed swapping. For months I’d longed to wake up next to Steve and know he was the only one I’d be sharing my body with. He kissed my neck. “You’re beautiful, you’re fabulous, you intoxicate me. You’re all I want.”



“What about Louise?” I asked. He broke from kissing my neck.



“It’s over. I ended it yesterday.” I couldn’t believe it. All this time I had been worrying and he felt it too. I was ecstatic, and yet this was big news. I turned around.



“Oh my God. Is she okay?” He looked down and looked sad.



“She’ll be okay. She knew we weren’t going to make it after uni. Leave this all to me.” And he resumed kissing my neck. He laid me down and kissed my mouth. I stroked his back and sighed with pleasure, with lust, with love. I hadn’t felt like this the whole time, but there was just something wonderful between us. It was undeniable. He stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. “Now, Miss Parker,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “I can’t promise I will never fuck you like the little slut you are again,” I giggled, “But now I’m going to make love to you,” I closed my eyes, “And show you how loved and adored you are.” I sighed. He touched gently between my legs, and I opened them for him. He pushed himself inside me, and for the next hour we kissed and touched and sighed and giggled in a way that not only had I never done with Steve before, but that I had never done before full stop.



And that was the rest of the week. From Saturday through the following Friday evening we were inseparable. We slept in the same bed, snuggled together, Steve’s hard cock waking me each morning and his warm hands on my naked body. We fucked on every surface in the house and watched our filthy video more than once, laughing and cringing, but each time we watched always becoming turned on quickly. But every night we made love just as we had that first night, gently and almost silently, gazing into one anothers eyes and cumming together. I couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for us both, now. Was this going to be an end to the past three years of mad sex and dirty experimentation? It seemed hard to believe it would, it was a way of life. But cocooned in this unreality of being alone in the house in the week before Christmas, I felt like I never wanted another man to be inside me ever again. I said this to him, on the Friday night, already a knot in my stomach about leaving him in less that 24hrs time, for my family Christmas back home in Oxford. He stared hard at me in the dark. He held my hand.



“You’re mine and I’m yours. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do. Forever.” But I didn’t know if that’s what I wanted. I’d loved experimenting, not just with Steve but with other men and with all the girls. I’d fucked my way around the uni bars, I’d had sexual experiences with my friends, my brother, his friends, my housemates. But was that chapter now over, was this love we now had more important that all of that? I didn’t know, I wanted someone to tell me. And then, tenderly, Steve said something which would change everything for good. He got up and, padded, in the dark, to his chest of drawers. He got something from the top drawer, but in the dark, I couldn’t see what. He crawled back into bed with me. “It’s not much.” He said, sitting up under the covers and pulling on my left hand. “And I think I’m mad for asking this myself,” still clueless I began,



“What…?”



“Michelle Parker,” he said, “I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.” And there in his hand, was a ring that glinted in the moonlight that spilt in through the windows. It was the last thing in the world that I expected him to say.



“Oh my God.” Was all I could muster. “Oh my God.”



“Oh my God like ‘yes’, or oh my God like ‘you’re mental and we’ve been a couple for six days’?” he asked. I laughed, shock and joy and fear and excitement all in my stomach at once.

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