Message-ID: <19486eli$9901300428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: ArtaDeux@aol.com Subject: Kristianna's Bridge (1/?, teen, first oral) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <9df4d0f7.36b25099@aol.com> The following work contains sexually explicit language and graphic descriptions of oral sex. If you are not 18 years of age, or this sort of thing is prohibitted in your town, city, county, state, country, province, or erotica is offensice to you, STOP READING. I, the author give permission for this work to be posted and archived on ASSM and ASS, according to their standards and welcome reviewer's (Celestial and Annex) comments. This work may not be posted to any pay sites or reproduced for profit, other than for the author's own monetary benefit. If you have a personal comment, please feel free to e-mail me at 'Art aDeux@AOL.com'. I will only respond to nice people so don't bother e-mailing me if you're going to be a jerk. Copyright Art aDeux@AOL.com (Sasha) Kristianna's Bridge The only thing I remember about my first kiss, is that it wasn't Danny S. But I remember my first blow job with clarity. I had found my great-grandfather's stash of porn when I was about 10 and had been dreaming of all the things I wanted to do to Danny. Things that were talked about in the "Letters" section of the magazines with all the girls in them. I especially liked the descriptions of men's penises, learning all the different names one could refer to it as. Some of them made me laugh, like "willy" or "boner". Others made me blush, like "cock" and "rod". A few made me warm and tingly in that area where I peed. But for the most part, since they were girly magazines, there weren't any "cocks" for me to view. To see what the older girls in the locker room giggled about. To see what all the fuss was about. I caught my great-grandfather in the bathroom when I was almost 12. He was standing in front of the toilet with one hand on the wall to brace himself. I thought at first that he was tired and just peeing, but his dick was sticking out, not pointing at the bowl. And as I watched, he moved his hand up and down the length. I backed quietly out of the room and watched from the crack in the door as his pace quickened. With a near-silent grunt his hips bucked once and thick white stuff oozed from the tip. I ran back to my bedroom and pulled out the magazine that I'd stolen and flipped to the "Letters" portion where it described this guy "jacking off". I knew that was what my grandfather had been doing. I thought about his hand stroking his dick and felf myself get hot between my legs. I lay down in bed and thought about that moving picture in my mind; a hand, stroking up and down a hard shaft making myself hotter and my panties sticky, until I went to sleep. I dreamt of many hands jacking off many cocks that spurted cumm. I was in eighth grade and a member of the Chamber Orchestra, Marching Band, and Honors Jazz Band. I played the clarinet at the behest of my great- grandmother. I hated it, I'd always wanted to play flute, but the old bitch had her way. And I excelled. There was this seventh grader in the Marching Band by the name of Chris. Chris P. Blond. Slender. Glasses. Shorter than me by about an inch and a half. His mom still had his hair cut in that stupid prince valiant style. I adored him. It was the flute. He had what I wanted. On two accounts. We got together the usual middle school way, my girlfriend told his guyfriend that I liked him. I cussed her out for it. His guyfriend told my girlfriend that Chris liked me too. He cussed him out for it. A week later we were "dating". Which for me meant kissing at our now shared locker and walking home together, since my great-grandmother would never allow me to even go out with a group of friends after school (or any other time for that matter), much less go out with a boy. So, that's what we did for a month, kissed during breaks and at lunch, racking up PDA slips for detention. Which we never showed up for because it conflicted with band practices. I quit marching band because of a knee injury, and then quit jazz band for the hell of it. I told my grandmother that I was doing wonderful in those and nothing more. I wanted to go to Chris's house after school. His parents worked and we could do just about anything we wanted. We'd check in with his older brother and then head off to his room where we'd play video games and lay on his bed kissing. It was there that I got my first feel of a penis. He'd lay on top of me and I could feel his erection through our jeans. I'd let him touch my breasts a little while we kissed, but he wouldn't let me touch his cock. I was dying to, but he said that he didn't want his brother walking in on us. So there we would be, kissing and all hot, but not doing anything about it. I'd go home and at night and think about what it would be like to give him a "blow job" like the girls in the "Letters" were always doing. I finally got my chance. We had a day off from school but there was still chamber practice. Chris and I went and the school was deserted. Practice lasted maybe 20 minutes because most kids hadn't bothered to show up. Just the die-hard band dorks whose parents waited in thier cars for them. Before we knew it, we were all alone in the school yard. I threw my clarinet case in my locker and we went walking. We stopped finally on a bridge over a little creek. It was secluded from sight and since there wasn't school that day, there was no one around. We stopped and kissed for a long time. Chris rubbed my nipples through my bra and shirt and I pressed my hips against his hard cock. I got more bold and reached between us and started rubbing his meat through his jeans. My first touch of any dick was awesome. I thought I might explode or pee my pants or something. Chris was moaning a little in my mouth and I could tell it was finally a little too much. I knew that when I left his house he'd go into the bathroom and jack off. But today he couldn't do that. His mom was home sick. I unbottoned the top button of his Levi's and then unzipped them. He didn't stop me, so I slid my hand into his pants and massaged his dick through his white underwear. The feeling in my loins was stronger now as I rubbed my thumb across the head of his dick, wet and slick even through his chonies. He sighed and I marveled at the feeling of it in my hand. For a little 7th grader, he didn't have much body hair. Face still fresh and unmarred by adolecent changes, he looked like a little boy almost, or a cherub. But his dick! Anything but cherubic. When I squatted down in front of him and pulled down his underwear, exposing his hard cock, he gasped. Then I gasped. Seven and a half inches of hard, thick dick stared back at me. He had next to no pubic hair and that made it look all the larger I think. My left hand went instinctively to cup his tense balls and with my right hand I grasped his member at the base while I just looked for a moment. It twitched in my hand and I leaned forward to lick it just at the tip. Chris twined his hand in my waist lenght hair and urged me closer. As if I needed much urging. I opened my mouth wide, and careful to cover the braces that encased my teeth, tongued the head. Then, took a deep breath and engulfed his throbbing penis in my warm mouth. I was in ecstacy! The feeling of his dick in my mouth was so powerful. I felt like a goddess. I feasted. After the first full dip down on him I began to explore. With my tongue I wandered around and around the head, teasing his piss-hole for just a second, then returning to it again when he responded with a muffled hiss of pleasure. With my hands I stroked the shaft, up and down while I learned the layout of the sensitive helmut. I felt the bumps and veins and reached around to pull him closer to me. I took the head into my mouth and sucked gently, rewarded by another stifled groan. Then, I began to work his dick into my mouth, inch by inch, practicing what I'd read in the magazines on his thick pole. I marvelled at the soft texture of the skin juxtaposed with the hardness behind it. I relished the taste of his pre-cum as I worked him further into my mouth. In my squatting position, my shorts were beginning to ride up into my now soaked crotch. It felt so good, kinda easing the feeling that I was going to pee. I steadied myself with one hand on his buttocks and reached down to move my shorts. When I got there though, the movement felt so good I didn't stop. Each tug on my shorts sent little shocks of pleasure into my belly. I stepped up the pace on Chris' dick now, engulfing the entire length of him into my mouth then bobbing back. His moans weren't muffled much now as his pelvis bucked against my face. Suddenly, he stiffened his spine and his cock head swelled. Then his first load of cumm shot down the back of my throat. I gagged a little and concentrated on not allowing his thrusting to knock me over on my ass. The second pump of his hips brought more cumm into my mouth and I tasted for the first time his "spunk". (Another "Letters" term I had learned.) "It's the consistency of egg whites," I thought dully as I swallowed reflexively. I continued to swallow too, as he shot three, four, and then five loads of cumm into my mouth, then, pulling back, tugging frantically at my shorts now as the feelings assailed my nether regions, he shot the sixth load of cumm into my face and right into my eye. Blinded temporarily, I lost my balance and sat down hard on the bridge, jabbing my finger and fingernail into my sensitive clitoris. (Or at least what I had deduced from the "Letters" was my clitoris) Pain was replaced by pleasure and I yelped in agony and fury at the same time. He laughed! Shakily. But the little bastard laughed. I stood up wincing at the ache between my legs and before I could think what I was doing my fist connected with his jaw. His head snapped back and his glasses flew off. My next blow landed square in his mouth, splitting his lip and my knuckles on his teeth. No third blow was got. He moved out of the way and I was done. "I'm sorry," I blurted out, spying his glasses a little ways behind him on the wood slats of the bridge. (Lucky they hadn't gone over the side!) "What the fuck did you do that for you little bitch!" He screamed at me, blood flying from his ruptured lower lip. "If you didn't want me to cumm in your damned mouth, then you should have fuckin' said something!" He was starting to lisp a little as his lip swelled. I moved past him and he jumped out of my way. I bent down and picked up his glasses and noted with some relief that they weren't broken. He snatched them out of my hand. "I'm sorry", I mumbled again, "But you shouldn't have laughed at me. It really hurt", I added defensively, staring at him a little sad eyed now. I wondered if I had just managed to kill my first boyfriend/girlfriend relationship and if I'd ever get to taste his cock again. He looked bewildered. "What hurt?" he asked hesitantly, "It hurt you when I came in your mouth like that?" Embarrassed now, I was cornered. He hadn't known that I was playing with myself. Some voice in my head said, " 'Fess up Kris, or you won't see that dick again." So I did. I told him what I'd been doing and how good it had felt up to the point that I'd jabbed my fingernail 5 inches deep (so I exaggerated) into my clit. He laughed again! And I scowled. He said it was just funny how I put it and came over to where I stood. I looked slightly down at him, his glasses just a little crooked (They hadn't survived unscathed after all.), lip swelling and bleeding just a little still, with a bruise purpling the left side of his jaw. He reached between my legs and lightly rubbed my soar pussy. Even the slight pressure against my clit made me wince and he withdrew his hand. With a rueful smile he said, "I'm sorry I laughed. But did you have to hit me so damn hard? And you fucked up my mouth! I'm not going to be able to play for a week!" His arm went around me and I straightened his shirt while he zipped up his pants. I kissed his mouth gently and asked him what his mother was going to say when she saw his face. "Don't know", he replied, "But I sure as hell ain't going to tell her that you fucked me up for laughing at you after you gave me a blow job !" We giggled and walked toward his house, deliberating on who to put the blame for Chris's face. I guess I should tell you who I am, now that I've shared with you the story of my very first blow job. Actually, my very first cock. My name is Kristianna. After years of having people call me variations of Christy, Krissy, Kristina being the most popular, I've reduced my name to the simple "Kris". Most of my friends call me Kris, although some of my closest intimates call me "Ti". A name I got from my almost step-father but popularized in high school by two beautiful Italian boys that I dated. But that is another story alltogether. I'll tell it in good time. Meanwhile, join me for a little bit of prying into my own sexual history. It's not all roses and fantastic climaxes, but it might interest you nonetheless. Beware. This is an autobiographical work. Things have happened to me that haven't always been pleasant. I will be exploring rather difficult themes such as rape, pseudo-incest and molestation. These are not the bulk of my experiences, but they have been a part of them. I hope you enjoy. Because of the nature of this work, names and places have been changed. If you find a similarity to an experiene you might have had, sorry. Sex is pretty much sex any way you slice it and we all tend to do it pretty much the same way. And, while my experiences have been a little extreme at times, I have found, in chatting with various people, that they have had experiences that mirror mine as well. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----