The first time I smoked a cigarette was with Julia. I can remember the occasion clearly. She had come to my house and had stood panting at the doorstep pleading with me to come out and try it with her. I followed her with a thick lump in my throat at the danger and excitement of what we were about to do. We found a discreet hiding place in the local park and stood there nervously for some minutes before opening the small white box and peering in at its sleek ominous occupants. Its odd how certain images can stick in one's mind years after the event. I will never forget looking at Julia, cheeks rosy with excitement, golden hair lapping gently in the breeze staring at the long white cigarette with a look of almost humbleness in her soft blue eyes. As she placed the cigarette in her mouth I could see small creases appear in the corners of her mouth and minute parcels of moisture clinging to her soft unadulterated lips allowing the cigarette to pass smoothly into her mouth and rest precariously balanced between her two quivering lips. I stood there in that park looking at my best friend sucking in what seemed like billows of smoke and then with much spluttering expelling it in clouds of gray. When it came to be my turn I must confess that I wasn't really very impressed by the whole thing and decided that smoking would not enter my growing list of vices.

Julia and I lived relatively near to each other and therefore attended the same school. Each morning she would come flapping up to my house and I, rather groggily, would meet her at the doorstep and we would then proceed to walk along the long avenue that would lead us to our school. Those walks were a real treasure to me and I would like to think to her too. It provided us with an excellent opportunity to discuss our worries, thoughts and of course men. We both started dating at roughly the same time and were therefore able to discuss our adventures without fear of incomprehension on the other's behalf. Julia was keen on the macho boys - the ones that would swank around the school courtyard with their orchestrated haircuts and their unoriginal designer clothes. I was always convinced that they would be complete disappointments in bed - their style covering up for deep imperfections on the emotional side. But Julia maintained that having an attractive hunk on your arm was all that mattered and that small endowments really didn't bother her anyway. Personally, I liked the quieter boys, the ones that were different, original and most importantly tender. A tender and integral man is always without fail a master of love as far as I'm concerned but Julia refused to concede the point dismissing my perfect type of man as being 'too effeminate' and 'too weird'.

And so, we carried on, walking to school each day, arguing about the utopian male, going to parties and generally doing what we though best. Julia took to smoking like a house on fire (for want of a better simile) and gradually the spluttering ceased and the gray clouds turned to deep blue mist expelled in cool succulent waves.

I always loved to watch Julia smoke.

I can put my hand on my heart and swear on all things good when I say that the night we made love was the most wonderful, emotional, terrifying and exciting time of my life.

We had gone to a party together as at that time there were no tender men or machos on our scene. The party was pretty usual, funny smelling cigarettes in one corner, arrays of bottles in the other. We both acted like we were on a mission and quickly became heavily under the influence which brought about the usual giggling and stumbling around we were accustomed to. On leaving the party we decided to go to my house for a nightcap, something which we often did as we invariably would have fantastic conversations that would lead us into the small hours of the morning. This occasion was no different and we soon found ourselves sitting together in my room with the umpteenth glasses of wine in our hands discussing sex. Julia was explaining in rather crude terms how she loved the feeling of a man really pounding into her and how she liked to be treated a bit rough sometimes. i sat and listened thinking about how completely opposite we were in some respects. Julia had recently been 'let down' or dumped in layman's terms and was therefore reacting quite badly to the alcohol and the subject matter. She started babbling about oral sex and how she had loved to to perform it on Brad (yes he really was called Brad) and how on one occasion he had tricked her and shot his sperm into her mouth and how turned on it had made her feel. At this point I had to object - the idea of a man ejaculating into my mouth was repugnant to say the least - but she persisted that it had been great and that I really should try it someday. When finally she stopped, I decided that it was my turn to do the talking.

'I love to be worshipped. I don't mean in a dominant way but in a physical way. I like for every part of my body to be scrupulously attended to, kissed, stroked and made to feel alive. I like my man to activate every single nerve ending so that my body shudders at the slightest touch. I like to be stroked all over untill all feeling unifies into one charged energy. When my clitoris is played with I want to feel only that. Nothing else exists other than the slow throb between my legs. I want to be licked gently and teased. I want for my enlarged clitoris to be suckled upon by somebody I love. I want to offer my sex to his tenderness and to be encompassed in our sexual pleasure. I like to feel the gentle breath of my lover on my breast and the soft flesh of his penis against my thigh. I like to linger over each moment allowing nothing to escape unnoticed. The feel of the beckoning penis pulls me closer to perfection, closer to being complete. As I receive my partner's body I allow my entire body to relax completely so as not to offer any resistance or hostility to my lover. He has to feel completely secure and wanted. Our bodies combine in ecstasy. I don't need climax because I am on a constant level of satisfaction that diverges with my partner's. Together we feel. it is as simple as that - the sensation of touch has taken us over and we are nothing more than a completely pure feeling. As my lover impregnates me, I welcome his sperm. My body absorbs his manhood in its entirety and opens itself to his seed. Together we rest.'

As I stopped talking I woke up from the trance-like state I had been in. I looked over at Julia who had gone quite pale and noticed that her hand had slid into her skirt. I stared in disbelief as I realized that my best friend Julia was trying to masturbate in my bedroom. 'I'm sorry' she said looking wildly in my eyes 'but I have never needed to come so badly in my life' I stared at her suddenly feeling dizzy from the wine.

Together we masturbated, at first reservedly and then quite naturally.

I cannot to this day remember who touched who first and I suppose that it doesn't really matter. We had been stroking ourselves as we laid across the bed. At first we had been very nervous but after a while we relaxed and simply lay there fingering ourselves and even talking to each other about school. parents and life in general. I think I was about to climax when we realized that we had been holding hands. Our fingers gradually started to stroke each others hand and then arm. Before too long we had entered a kind of embrace or hug still playing with ourselves but not with the other. I think I lied earlier when I said that I couldn't remember who started it. I could smell her pleasure oozing from each of her pores. I could sense her every movement and hear her every breath. I was obliged to touch her and to share with her. As my fingers glided through her soft hairs absorbing her moisture I felt what can only be described as utopia. Julia seemed almost oblivious to what I was doing, lost in her world of pleasure. I held my hand to her sex and in unison helped her to reach climax. As she came I had the most mind splitting orgasm with her and we both lay, not moving in each other's arms. As we slept my hand remained at her crotch holding it like a baby with a blanket.

The next morning we awoke with inevitable hangovers. Julia disentangled herself from me in shock when she realized that we were both naked. She made some excuse about having to leave and hurriedly left leaving me with only a wisp of her aroma. She never did come back to walk with me in the mornings. When I approached her at school she was distant and I soon realized that our friendship was over. I spent the rest of that final year on my own, lost without the friend that had been so close to me before. Julia got back with Brad and as far as I know ended up marrying him. I wonder if he still treats her rough.

I never had another experience with a woman since then. I think about Julia now and then and wonder how she is. I miss her.

Home | Story Index | Contact Us | Other Sites

All contents © Copyright 1999 by literotica.com.
No part may be reproduced in any form without explicit written permission.