Perhaps this kind of story would be much wilder and much earlier for a guy, but keep in mind that I have always been a) female and b) a geeky bookworm. So it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I got my first real eyeful of...wait for it...hot steamy sex.

And the funny part is, my mom gave it to me for Christmas.

Let me explain. This is where the "bookworm" part of the tale comes in, nice and early. I am a voracious reader, and back then reading is about all I ever did. I had no social life. I'd recently completed a really good book called "Clan Of The Cave Bear" by Jean M. Auel, the (obviously fictional) story of a Cro-Magnon woman raised by Neanderthals before the first Ice Age.

What my mother did next is by no way her fault. She knew I loved that book, and she also knew that there was a sequel on the shelves called "Valley Of The Horses." Her reasoning was kind-hearted and without flaw: My daughter read the first book to tatters, and look -- the sequel is apparently about horses, which she also loves to tatters. It's the perfect gift!

What neither Mom nor I knew was that after the first book Auel stopped aiming for her readers' grey matter and instead went straight for other parts of their bodies.

So I received "Valley Of The Horses" for Christmas. My joy knew no bounds, for the previous book had left off on a bit of an incomplete note with no sequel in sight, and I desperately wanted to know what happened to poor cast-out Ayla.

I found out what happened to her, all right. But before that I found out what happens when her hunky "destined true love" Jondalar, who seems to spend a lot of his time wandering around the prehistoric world rippling his muscles at sabretooth tigers, gets into the good graces of a clan chieftain who a) decides that his tribe would really appreciate mixing said hunk's blue eyes into the ol' genepool and b) has a pretty daughter in desperate need of deflowering.

In great detail.

For four straight pages.

Oh my.

And he hadn't even run into Ayla yet...

Needless to say, that book got very dogeared in several particular spots very fast. And when mom asked how the book was going...I told her it was going quite fine, thank you, and didn't mention why it was under my bed rather than on the bookshelf.

I do hope my mother never reads this. And to think she almost throttled me a while later when she caught me reading "Thinner" by Stephen King. A few paragraphs of hinted oral hijinks whilst behind the wheel of a car...? Oh please.

I'd read "Valley Of The Horses."

Googling "naked girls" aged 14.

(At least I wasn't googling "naked girls aged 14." That would have got me onto some sort of register.)

Actually, in all seriousness, though, my first porn, in the wider sense, was probably reading a site I travelled onto with hordes of rude songs on it. These bawdy, folksy ditties about overendowed prospectors and insatiable Inuits, tales of sexual misfortune, just plain grossness, and so forth introduced me to all sorts of amusing turns of phrase that, in my callow youth, I was unaware of the meaning of. So when I googled them, jackpot! Rude ladies doing rude things! That's an instant bookmark - though I always made them look innocuous in the bookmarks menu, naming them after things I had to do for school, and purged the History, temporary folders, and cookies after a good session. I was certain to get away with it because neither of my parents had ANY idea how to access same if I covered my tracks thus; I'd just say it was to get rid of viruses or threats thereof.

There were close squeaks though. While my old man was defragmenting the hard drive, a file flashed up called something like "Katyadildo7.wmv" but, thankfully, didn't notice it, although I was clenching because of same.

I didn't pass round my links to my classmates. They already had extensive pornfolios of their own. I did, however, pass round the rude songs and from then till eternity, school trips would resonate to the strains of "The Ball of Kirriemuir," "I Like a Horse," "Bestiality's Best, Boys," "The Street of 1,000 Arseholes," "The Randy Crow," "Hedgehogs can Never be Buggered At All," "Cam Ye All At Once," and suchlike. Even in assembly, if the appropriate hymns came up, we'd all be singing "At the Sight of Penis" and "Lord of the Fuck," and at Christmas, "Once In Ilford's Lonely Car Lot." Yep, nothing was sacred.

I think this goes a long way to explaining why I'm so fucked up in every conceivable way.

To close, then, I'll leave you with my favourite verse from my favourite rude parody hymn, which still makes me go, "ooohh!!!" at its sheer viscerality.

"Take you from the back or from the front,
Settle for an arsehole if I cannot find a cunt,
I fucked all the women till their sides were split,
Then buggered their brothers till they could not shit."

That says it all really.

Oh, so we're telling our "first porn" experiences here? Okay well since I've already given you some intentionally bad porn, I'll try to make up for it with a harsh dose of realism. Mine, it happened in the City of Angels around the mid-90s, when I was around the mid-twenties (and believe me when I tell you, nothing's weirder in the world than looking back from this age to that age, feeling like I'm still pretty much the same person, and yet with so much having changed). I had this buddy -- let's call him "Joe" -- who I met in the Gulf during that action, and we reconnected in L.A. This was after I'd come to my current spiritual philosophy, but before I'd gone full-bore with the commitment to a matching way-of-life. So, I was at the time still living in the city, getting by on savings and occasional odd jobs in odd fields, just enough to pay the rent, buy the food, gas the car, and hit the waves.

My buddy, he'd overcome the same substance abuse problem that plagues so many vets when they leave the service after an injury. He wasn't combat wounded in the way you probably imagine from the movies, no bullets whizzing past or bombs bursting in air. Just a poorly handled crate of folding cots coming down on his knee, no permanent damage done but enough to be hopped up on painkillers and sent home ahead of schedule. He still pulled in a regular check from the government for his trouble, but it wasn't enough to live on, so he'd wrangled a job checking IDs at a strip club, and from there managed to fall into meeting the wrong sort of people, who were the right people to meet to do a low-rent scene in a porn film here and there. There are ways a man can get into doing that kind of work, steadily even. But you have to be willing to be eternally memorialized having sex, and for the most part you have to have the right air and the right face and the right physique. This wasn't the 70's anymore where any non-grotesque could get in, long as they had a cock. It helps to be buds with the director, or with a friend of the director (unless you have yourself decided to shoot the film, and so, were the director). Joe's was the middle route; and mine was "friend of Joe."

Joe knew I could always use some extra income too, and despite my adoption of pacifism, hitting the waves had kept me in the fighting shape Uncle Sam had once spent hard-slogging months pounding me into. So Joe set us up for the shoot and one Sunday morning we took our bleary-eyed drive to the address we'd been given -- a house in the hills (no, not those hills) -- I mean a real backwoods, out-of-the-way place.

The Setup.

We met the girls there. Let's call them "Gina" and "Ella," 'cause that's what they were calling themselves at the time (not their real names, dur). Gina had curly black hair, cut pretty short. She was petite, in a light blue blouse and jeans, with a cute face, even with no make-up (which she would lay on thick enough before the scene). If I'd met her in a bar, guess I'd have tried to strike up a conversation. And I'd guess she was Italian, except that she seemed pretty pale. Northern Italian, maybe. The other, Ella was a blondie, with long straight hair, and she was taller, and seriously tanned and toned all over, speaking of days lying unclothed under the sun. Strippers, both, who had graduated from lapdances and backroom handjobs to, what the hell, let's do it on film. So essentially I ended up with Gina because the director looked us over and points and tells us, "okay, you go with her." And I was good with that because she's the one of the two I'd have picked. Ella, she was attractive and all but there was something about the shape of her face -- just a bit too pointy for my preferences.

The director was a middle-aged hack, my buddy told me his focus had really been on getting into doing TV commercials for a living but for whatever reason he wasn't competitive in that market, so he slid out on the side to film one of these when time was loose and budgets tight. Dude knew I hadn't done this before, but Joe and I had picked up women together before more than once, and Joe knew I had no qualms about, ahem, performing in the presence of others, and could care less that it was on film.

The thing about filming a porn scene is, even with a very attractive partner, you're having sort of clinical sex. You just can't get lost in the passion of the moment and try something innovative or unexpected. Instead, you've got to stand in the right spot, keep yourself in the frame, and be constantly aware of where your limbs are and how your body is positioned. And the person with the roving camera can be kind of intrusive coming in for close-ups of the action. On top of that, the lights are hot and glaring, and the male performer must sustain that delicate balance, staying fully aroused throughout and yet not finishing until the moment when the instruction is given.

And condoms? Hah, no, this was low-budget and in the nineties, things were still fast and loose. And, face facts, folks don't so much want to watch that action. They want skin on skin, and they get it. So Gina and I had to settle from the hurried and hopeful assurances we gave each other about being clean and disease-free.

So it began.

And so it began. In a living room, on a pair of long yellow couches angled together, not quite making a corner. The girls had some lines to remember -- there was some setup about Ella's "character" having her boyfriend coming to visit with another guy to meet Gina's too-long-without-sex "character" -- and then they opened the front door and there were me and Joe, right on cue. More smattering of dialogue. I'm sure I mangled mine, but no one cared, because we were all supposed to be about getting laid, and then we split into our designated pairs and started making out. Standing up at first, then we moved to the couches, Joe and Ella on one, me and Gina on the other -- and remember that things have got to go right on cue, well here they have to go on cue in tandem or about that. The director had gone through it pretty quickly but the idea was that we'd go through a particular sequence of sex acts and positions, then I'd give up my money shot, and then Joe would follow suit with Elle.

Gina had changed into a flowery sundress for the scene, and sitting on the couch she spread her legs to reveal the fresh white panties underneath. I had a pang of nervousness -- for a real "first time" there'd have been a lot more kissing and petting before I'd be touching that part -- but this time the end result was predetermined, so I slid my hand straight down over her crotch, and began to rub her through the thin material. I did the usual thing, middle and ring fingers settled over her sex, going back and forth against each other as my palm made circles over her pubic mound. This was just a warm-up, and it did what it needed to, her panties moistening over those few minutes.

Off came the sundress, and I attended to her breasts -- I'd seen her unabashedly change before the shoot, and already had those curves etched in my mind, the flawless breasts of youth and vigor. I squeezed them with exaggerated motions, playing for the camera as I brought my mouth to each perky nipple, making sure all the while that my head and body were turned so that nothing would be blocked from view. There were, naturally, two cameras recording -- one which sat still, the director perched behind it; the other a "roving" camera carried by a technician. Since I didn't know where the second one would be from time to time, it didn't come into my positioning as I moved to perform oral sex on my scene-mate.

Now, bringing a girl home from a bar or a club, you don't know if it's going to be fresh down there, or if it isn't if she's going to bother doing anything about it before you get started. Most girls are conscientious enough to "freshen up" when they anticipate that kind of action, but if it's not so good, sometimes you just have to power through. But Gina was fresh and clean like a spring morning, no scent there but her natural juices mingled with a flowery hint of Summer's Eve. It was pretty to look at, as well, looking deceptively untrammeled beneath a tightly trimmed bush, but I knew I didn't have time to sit and admire. Action was called for!!

The action.

Stripping her panties off and positioning her legs wide open, I carefully spread apart her labia to fully reveal the pink wetness of those inner parts. I pressed my cheek against her thigh to make sure the view was unobstructed, and stuck my tongue out as far as I could, leaning my face forward until the tip touched her clit. Not my normal technique, but more readily filmed, I figured. This proved more tiring than I'd expected, so after a few minutes of licking her this way, I shifted to the more traditional method, planting my face over her pussy, positioning my lips around her clit, and just flickering my tongue back and forth over it, occasionally slipping out to go over the whole of it. I confess, never a fan of the alphabet trick, I use counting methods. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four quick laps of the tongue on the clit, then purse the lips and suck on the entire thing; then one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four again, then dart the tongue downward over the entire labia, pushing just the tip into the vagina proper. And then back to the clit to repeat the entire sequence eight times, and then spend a few moments thrusting the tongue right up into that pussy (one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, before darting back up to the clit, and back inside for eight more sets). Occasionally I'd pause for a dramatic gesture, arm sweeping up to grope the breast (first time, whoops, wrong hand, that's going to block the camera -- quickly withdraw it use the other). Leaning back for a moment to rub fingers and thumbs around her pussy, admiring the symmetry of the orifice. Then right back to licking and thrusting of the tongue.

In a corollary to Einstein's Theory of Relativity, ten minutes spent eating a fresh and sexy pussy goes by like a minute. Gina was a sport for the whole of it, almost immediately vocalizing a ludicrous amount of pleasure from the experience. "Oh, oh God!! Oh yes, oh God, yes!! Oooooo, oh ga-- oh ga-- oh ga-- oh GOD!!" Naturally, her orgasms were faked, if not madly exaggerated. But I don't flatter myself too much in affirming that the total wetness and lust-puffed state of her vaginal lips indicated more than feigned enjoyment. And now, it was my turn. Different strokes for different folks, but I don't care for getting blowjobs while lying down, so I stood up. Gina gamely slid off the couch and to her knees. No need to fluff me up, I was naturally excited, and she was ready to ply this art, soft kisses and strokes of her tongue up the bottom of my shaft until she reached the tip, and then those pink lips closing over my cockhead, her tongue brushing back and forth inside that warm, soft mouth, eyes flirtatiously gazing up into mine. I had to take a moment to hang onto my composure and remember that I was here to put on a show, not indulge my own pleasure, so I quietly thought of other things -- though making sure to grunt or moan or mutter "oh yeah, suck that thing" from time to time (it really wasn't hard to find the motivation for that).

And she knew how. Some girls seem to know the first time they have a cock in their mouth, and some girls, even if they are wonderful lovers in other respects, never can bring themselves to put their mouth there. That's okay too, I guess, I'm sure there are some guys out there who don't like getting their cock sucked. And, giving a great blowjob and giving deep throat are not necessarily synonyms either. I've known girls who who couldn't get it that far in, but still gave amazing blowjobs by mastery of other techniques. And to be honest, I'd been with a girl who could deep throat, but gave no more than a humdrum effort because she seemed to think that the fact that she could take it all the way in meant it was all she needed to do. But Gina had some great techniques, and she could deep throat with no more than a little difficulty. And she had pacing. Who knows, maybe she was using some counting technique too, but she knew not to go straight to throating, giving a quick tease of that ability early on, then moving through other angles and strokes of lips and tongue before slowly taking in more and more of my bulging erection with each successive stroke. As she did, her hand artfully slid up my thigh and cupped my testicles, making me twitch and focus hard on suppressing an urge to release ahead of schedule. She slid back and playfully popped my cock out of her mouth. Now, hooray, it was time to fuck.

Taking control.

I find it easier to control my sexual excitement during actual intercourse, then when receiving oral sex. Once we're at that stage, I'm in control of the movement, and can do whatever I need to without popping off prematurely. We returned to the couch for some missionary position to start it off. Gina's been artfully stroking her pussy on and off while she sucked me, keeping it wet and horny. I'll be honest, I don't like to fuck on a couch. It's not what they're made for, and there's a reason why, though you might find yourself doing it on the cushions once in a blue moon, you're instinct will be to take it to the bed. But this is what we had, so Gina laid on the couch and I knelt between her legs, lifting her little ass up to slide my cock into her. Not the best way to start really, but if we did regular man-lying-on-top missionary, the camera wouldn't catch that most important moment of penetration. And penetrate we did. Gina understandingly obliged the situation be reaching down to spread her pussy lips apart, easing my entry.

From there, it was.... well, it was nice, but it was a bit boring. I mean, we weren't fucking to fuck, we were fucking to be watched, so there wasn't a lot of technique, just thrust, thrust, thrust, grunt and moan and pant. Again, not unpleasant at all, but workmanlike. I did do a little bit of counting in my head -- short-short-short-short-deep and hip grinding, short-short-short-short. We went through the positions, and I have to confess we had good sexual chemistry, moving without need to do the you-go-here-and-I'll-go-there as we shifted from me on top, to her on top in a cowgirl position, riding me as I sat up on the couch like I was watching a football game. I had, at least, a choice opportunity to play with her bouncing breasts, and even though the camera wasn't particularly catching this I gave some delicate attention to her pink nips with my lips and tongue. We took a quick break for her to pee and then splotch on some extra lube, and after a little boner-restoration work, went back at it. Then we more or less spun her around for the reverse cowgirl, which went on for a while as well, and then it took no more than a full-body turn to the left for her to be on hands and knees on the couch, my cock plunging into her from behind.

Despite all the time we'd spent doing rote fucking, getting her in this position really got me excited anew. She really had a great ass, shapely and firm, and right in the middle was that little pinkish-brown anus. I fixated on it for a minute, thinking how tight it would be to slide into that, though I knew it wasn't happening here and now. So I just licked my thumb and slid it flatly over her asshole, and she let out a surprised coo. If this was just a sex fantasy, I'd be writing about plunging my cock right up her asshole and emptying both barrels, but that's not what happened. Instead, what happened was, I pulled out of her pussy and we got off that couch, and she knelt in front of me while I jerked off. This turned out to be the hardest part -- after a great blowjob and some relatively hot moments of fucking, here I was with my dick in my hand, trying to make myself come on cue. But I just stared down at her pretty face and those pert tits she was holding up for me, and imagined how amazing it would feel to be having that first push through the cusp of her anus, and then dwelt for just a second on that earlier moment when she'd been sucking me, and had cupped my balls. That's what did it -- my sperm came out, first in a dribble, and then in four or five big spouts, on her chest, over her tits, one straying onto her shoulder.

She was very ladylike about the whole thing. Though I was pretty much spent, she wrapped a hand around my cock and stroked it a few times, stealing an extra few drops, and then took me into her mouth again, all the way to the back of her throat with a hard swallowing motion to rescue just a few drops more. The camera wasn't going to catch those last drops either -- that, she did just for me, and I appreciated it. My knees felt ready to buckle, so I half-fell back onto the couch, gathering Gina on my lap, and kissing her some more. I was hazily aware that Joe and Ella had wrapped up and were in much the same state. And then I couldn't help breaking out into laughter, and Gina couldn't help joining in, and I rolled my eyes and told her, "that was nice," and she replied in agreement. And that was it. Cut, print.

Wrap up.

The shoot had run about two hours from the time our clothes started hitting the floor. I was sweating powerfully, and smelled of sex and Old Spice. I half-heartedly hit Gina up for her number, shrugging to maybe get together for a drink sometime. No go on the drink. She had a boyfriend, or at least some complicated situation of a comparable kind. She gave me her number anyway; we kept in touch on and off for a few months, but before long I'd moved up the coast. I reconnected with her just last year thanks to Facebook -- now married to a doctor and with kids, good for her.

At the end of the day, I had an extra $300 in my pocket. And I'd had a mostly-pleasing run with a decently attractive girl. Looking back on the whole adventure, I've got just one regret. I have never seen a copy of the scene!!

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