A River Path to Love

The critical moment came on an excessively hot day. The thermometer had soared to forty degrees Celsius by early morning. Dear old Arnold my dog and walking companion of so many years had gone to the great boneyard in the sky. I now walked alone until such time as I could bring myself to replace him.

As I meandered dogless along the path wishing Arnold was still with me, I saw Stephen approaching with Ken’s and Delia’s Dalmatian.

As we came up together I asked, “How did it go?”

“Still waiting for the results,” he replied. “Hope to God I’ve get enough marks to get me into the College.”

“You will,” I said, encouragingly.

We were both sweating in the heat, so I took a bold step. “How about coming back to my place for a drink?”

“Good idea,” he gasped, “Lead the way.”

We went back to my house, the first time Stephen had seen it. “My God,” he expostulated, “I had no idea you lived in place like this!”

“Don’t be impressed,” I said, “It’s what goes on inside it that matters.”

He grinned, “Yes, I suppose so.”

We sat down with our drinks while the Dalmatian made an olfactory inspection of the room, then apparently finding nothing of special interest, flopped down on the carpet and went to sleep. Seeking a lever to start a conversation I asked a question of Stephen I had never put to him before. “Have you got a girlfriend?”

He looked at me a little strangely for a moment, then said, “No, not really. I’ve had one or two girls as friends, but nothing serious.”

“Not interested at this stage?” I questioned further.

He gave a shrug and said, well, it’s not really that it’s…it’s...”

His voice trailed away and I was tempted to ask, “It’s what?” I decided not to pursue the matter and suddenly came up with a bright idea. “Stephen, we’re all hot and sweaty, what about a swim?”

“You’ve got a pool? Terrific…oh…I don’t have anything to wear.”

“That’s all right,” I said, “I can find you something. Be back in a minute.”

I went to my bedroom and put on my swimming costume. I suppose I should write that it was a minimalist bikini, but it wasn’t. It was a backless one piece garment. I went to the cupboard where I kept odds and ends of clothing that were hardly ever used. There were a couple of pairs of Jeff’s old swimming shorts. I selected the most respectable looking pair and took them to Stephen.

Seeing me in my swim suit, I heard an intake of breath and saw him trying not to look at me. I showed him were to change and told him to come out to the pool when he was ready.

I left him and went outside and waited for him sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet dangling in the water. I could have hugged myself with delight. For the first time I had Stephen to myself. No Ken or Delia, no passing walkers or cyclists to overlook us. “He’s all mine,” I thought excitedly.

Stephen came out wearing Jeff’s swim shorts that were perhaps a trifle tight on him. They had been purchased in the days before Jeff developed his little paunch, and in any case Jeff was probably a size or two smaller than Stephen.

Thinking about sizes, what I saw outlined against the cloth of the shorts made me a little breathless. I was no expert in penis sizes, but I have since looked up relative male organ dimensions on the internet, and can now safely say that Jeff’s organ was well below average and from what I could see, Stephen’s was well, very well, above average.

My own sex organ, fortunately not visible to Stephen, had been lubricating copiously for some time. If there was any tell-tail sign of my condition of sexual arousal, it was my nipples, but I didn’t know if Stephen could read the signs of female excitation.

As he drew near I slipped from the edge of the pool into the water and Stephen dived in. We swam and splashed around for a while and ended up wrestling around with each other. As our bodies came into contact I could from time to time feel the pressure of his penis against me, and my readiness would rise to new heights.

We eventually got out of the pool and lay side by side upon two air mattresses under the shade of the wide veranda. What I could physically hide from Stephen, he could not conceal from me. Although he tried to screen his huge erection from me by lying on his stomach, I had seen it before he reached the air mattress. The crown was almost thrusting out of the top of the shorts and the poor boy must have been in a dreadful state.

There now ensued one of those self-conscious moments when one tries to decide on who makes what move. His brief statement about girls who had just been friends, suggested that Stephen was a virgin. My hunger for him was causing me to quiver with tension, and so I summoned up the courage to make the first move. It was a risk because one never knows if they will be rejected, and if that occurs, the relationship may be ruined for ever.

I took the chance and moving over to him I said softly, “Stephen, darling,” then I kissed him softly, moving my moistened lips over his but not seeking to enter his mouth with my tongue at that stage.

When I broke from the kiss he gasped, “Linda, oh Linda.” I kissed him again, this time probing with my tongue for entry into his mouth. He opened his mouth and as I explored it with my tongue I reached down to caress his penis with my hand.

After touching his shaft through the cloth initially I then untied the cord round the waist and slipped my hand inside. As I touched the crown of his penis I felt him give a slight convulsive movement. I knew I was safe – I would not be rejected.

When I came away from the kiss this time, he said, “Linda, I’ve never been with a girl…I don’t know how…”

I interrupted him, “It’s all right, my darling, leave it all to me this time.”

I slipped off his swim shorts and his manhood reared up like a great tower, the light brown shaft surmounted by a beautiful purple cupola that was glistening with pre-cum.

I was tempted to lick some of the salty emission, but the poor boy was so aroused I could feel his blood infused shaft pulsating under my hand in rhythm with his heart beat. “I must let him come into me quickly this time,” I thought, “He won’t be able to hold back for long.”

I took off my swim suit and on seeing me naked Stephen gave a groan and said, “You’re so beautiful, Linda.”

“So are you, my love,” I responded, and sat across him, the crown of his penis poised over my vaginal opening.

I had only ever had penetration with Jeff, and as I have said, Jeff was considerably smaller than Stephen where penis size was concerned. I decided to lower myself slowly, testing for any pain or discomfort. There was none. I was saturated with my lubricant and with his pre-cum he slipped into me easily, the only difference from Jeff being the beautiful tight fit and pressure against the walls of my vagina.

With his full length in me I stopped still for a moment, letting him feel what it was like to be deep inside a woman. Resting with him, I thought I could feel the pressure of his crown against my cervix, but again, there was no discomfort.

During all this Stephen had kept his head raised, watching his entry into me, and continuing his soft moans, “Linda, oh Linda.”

I think this first time with Stephen was the most wonderful few minutes in my life. I felt such love and tenderness for him, such a desire to give myself to him, to make it a beautiful experience that he would always remember.

I began to move on him and quickly felt the prelude to ejaculation as he began to lift his hips, pushing against my downward movements. Suddenly he gave a tremendous cry and instinctively seized my hips, dragging me down on to him in rhythm with his release of semen into me. I felt the first explosion of his seed thump into me and I put all the power I could into my downward thrusts, striving to get the last millimetre of his length into me.

He was crying out incoherently and I had a sudden vision of all those little sperms striving to reach my egg to fertilise it. Then Stephen gave one great cry of “Oh God, Linda,” as he made his last and mightiest thrust of sperm into me. Yes, I thought, the wonderful primal need of the man to impregnate the women, thrusting his seed in deep to fertilise her.

His ejection ended, I felt him relaxing under me. He gave a huge sigh of contentment and whispered, “I do love you, Linda.”

I looked down at him, smiling, and responded, “And I love you, very much, my darling.”

I remained sitting over him, his slackening manhood still inside. Looking at him I thought, “I want him, I need him. I shall be his lover, his mother, his friend, whatever he wants me to be, and I shall give myself totally to him.”

Perhaps that sounds exaggerated, overly emotional, but that was what I thought and felt then, and still do for that matter.

He continued to murmur words of love and devotion to me, and I responded, assuring him of my own depth of feeling for him.

Nothing like this had happened with Jeff, not even during our first couplings when the newness of love and the satisfaction of lust tend to make us more voluble about our feelings. There was something else I had never experienced with Jeff that was taking place with Stephen.

Sitting over him, his penis still in me, I felt a strange sense of unity with him. Again it may sound ridiculous, but I felt at one with him, part of him, and he part of me. I wanted selfishly to possess him.

I felt him hardening and stirring inside me, so I started to move again. After his first ejaculation he would take longer to come this time. For a while I had experienced female orgasm with Jeff, but in time this had faded out together with his own growing lack of interest. Now I felt ripe for a climactic outcome of my union with Stephen.

It came, far off at first like a distant roll of thunder before the lightening strikes. The thunder drew closer and I began to shake and give out little cries of, “Oh, ah, oh, ah, oh, ah.” Then a mighty crescendo, the lightening struck home, and for a while I spun into another world, a vibrating world of flashing lights and colour. I heard myself scream at the height of my climax, and then I was moving away from the high point, weeping and telling Stephen “I love you, I love you.”

I felt the first heave of his ejaculation and he was grasping my hips again, literally moving me up and down on him. I tried to respond, but I was too overcome by my own exquisite but exhausting experience to be of much help to him.

Then came the burst of his semen and as the first thrust shot into me he gave a cry of exultation. His sperm mingled with that of his first ejaculation and my lubricant. It was running out of me over his groin and down onto the mattress. I had never experienced such an overflowing of male seed before. And once more there came the vision of those sperms competing to be the one that fertilised me.

He gave a final massive thrust, and then once more I felt him relax under me. I had reached the outer limits of my own orgasm so I withdrew from him, dropping down beside him.

“All right, darling?” I asked as I kissed his lips and face.

His hands were exploring my breasts, and he whispered hoarsely, “It was wonderful, Linda, beyond anything I’ve ever thought or imagined.”

“Would you like to stay with me for the rest of the day,” I asked.

“Oh yes…” He paused, “My grandparents, they’ll wonder where I am.”

“Telephone them, darling. Tell them I’ve invited you to lunch and you’ll be staying. Tell them I can feed their dog.”

I gave a laugh and added, “Then we’d better have another swim, we’re in a dreadful mess.” It was true; sperm and lubricant were staining the mattress and it was oozing out of my vagina and down my thighs.

He returned my laugh and went off to telephone. I slipped into the pool and watched the sperm rise from my body to the surface of the water forming wavy glutinous ribbons. Foolishly I wanted to keep it, it was part of him.

Stephen came from his telephone call and leaped into the pool. When he came to the surface I asked, “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said, and laughed. “They said it would be good for me to be with some younger company.”

I felt a twinge of pain spear through me. Younger than them, yes, but there was twenty years between Stephen and myself. Would he come to regret his association with what might seem to him, an old woman?

We splashed around for a while and then began our wrestling games. We were naked and quickly Stephen had me against the wall of the pool, his penis slipping into my welcoming vagina.

The buoyancy of the water meant that it was no great effort for him to stand with me having my feet off the floor of the pool. We clung together for a long time, looking into each other’s eyes, kissing, his hand exploring my breasts.

Revealing something of my uncertainties I asked him, “Darling, are you happy that we’ve come together like this?”

“Very happy,” he said, smiling at me, then he went on, “You know Linda, I’ve wanted you from the first time we met.”

“When you were fourteen!”

“Yes, I wanted you then. Was that very bad?”

“No, of course not my love, I’m sure many boys of that age have crushes on older women.”

“Mine’s not just a crush, you know,” he said solemnly. “I’ve waited for you all these years. I thought it might never happen, that you wouldn’t want a young fellow like me, but I always hoped.”

As a form of reply, and using the buoyancy of the water, I began to bounce up and down on him until he shot into me again. It was a very peaceful ejaculation this time and rather sweet.

After that I decided we needed nourishment, so we went in to prepare lunch. The Dalmatian cocked one eye open, seemed to see nothing unusual about seeing a naked Stephen and Linda, and promptly went back to sleep, that is, until I produced some food for it, when it came awake with surprising alacrity.

Stephen and I ate, then I suggested we should go to bed for the afternoon. He received this with considerable enthusiasm, especially when I said, “I might be able to teach you a few things.”

“I’m and eager student,” he laughed.

Our sharp sexual hunger had been dealt with before lunch. Now we could enjoy a more leisurely approach to our love making.

We lay on the bed in each other’s arms, kissing deeply and long. Stephen’s hand once more explored my breasts until I requested, “Suck my nipples, darling.”

As I suckled him I demonstrated how he should use his hand, stroking upward from the base of the other breast to finish with a gentle squeeze of the nipple. He was a fast learner, but then, perhaps men have a special instinct about women’s breasts.

After a while I moved his hand down to my vagina and tried to teach him how to use his fingers to penetrate my vagina and stimulate my clitoris.

Some women complain about the careless treatment they get from their partners when it comes to this act of love. To some extent I think the women are at fault in this matter. Their men may not understand the structure of the female genitals, and I believe it is for the women to instruct them.

I was determined Stephen would get what might be called, “a thorough grounding” in at least the basics. I sat on the edge of the bed and drew my legs up and apart so my feet rested on the bed. This gave the fullest possible view of my genitals. I said to Stephen, “Come and kneel in front of me, darling, and I’ll show you what a woman’s sex organ looks like.”

He knelt and I touched my mons, pointing out that some women like to be pressed and stroked there, and then went on to my outer lips. I had intended to move them apart myself, but changed my mind and said, “Darling, if you open those lips you can see what’s behind them.”

He obediently and carefully opened them to reveal my inner lips and vaginal opening.

“You see,” I said, “The inner lips are very like those on our mouths. Lot’s of women like to be kissed and licked there.”

He looked up at me gravely and asked, “Do you like to be kissed there?”

“It depends who is on doing the kissing, Stephen.”

“By me?”

“If you want to, my love.”

He leaned forwards and I felt his lips press against the little petals. He did this in a most solemn and almost worshipful fashion, rather like an orthodox believer kissing a sacred icon. He followed my second indication and began to lick me until finally I felt his tongue thrust into my opening. It was time for one more instruction.

I moved his head away and lifted the little hood over my clitoris to reveal the little nob of nerve endings. I began to circle it with my finger and said, “That is a woman’s real pleasure centre, darling. If you would like to do what I’m doing, or lick it with your tongue, you might send me wild with lust for you.”

I was in fact already wild with lust for him, but I suppose a mentor must remain objective, up to a point.

He again solemnly followed my instruction and began first to run his finger gently round my clitoris then commenced licking it.

Now I am of the school of thought that holds that a man in approaching a woman and engaging in the sexual act should do so with a degree of reverence. A woman, after all, is the potential bearer of new life. It is no wonder in times long ago female fecundity was worshipped.

This is why I think rape is such a heinous crime; it defiles what is essentially sacred. On the other hand, too much reverence for a woman’s body by her sexual partner can detract from the supreme pleasures of the act. Therefore, I told myself that I must in future love making with Stephen, modify the reverence and enhance the ravishing. “Still,” I thought optimistically, “That can wait for other occasions.”

I thought one more lesson was in order, so said, “Darling, come and lay on your back.”

I must say, he was a very obedient student and did as bidden.

I began by kissing his lips, the slowly kissed my way down his body. When I reached his penis it was standing up hard, throbbing, it’s cupola-like head wet with pre-cum.

I began by licking the silvery viscous discharge. Stephen began to moan, “Linda, Linda,” so I took the purple crown into my mouth and began to lick and suck.

I felt his ejaculation approaching, and he tried to push me away crying out, “Linda, I can’t hold…I’m going to…”

He didn’t finish, it was all too late. Had I chosen I could have disengaged from him, but I clung on and as the first semen was impelled up his shaft I felt his hands close over the back of my head as he held me to him.

The first thick warm thud of his sweet young sperm burst into my mouth. I swallowed and then tried to keep pace with his massive discharge. It was more than I could cope with, and it began to run out of the corners of my mouth. I could hear his uninhibited cries with each new explosion, his desperate exclamations of love for me.

As he completed his ejections into my mouth, he, like me earlier, was weeping, but I knew they were tears of joy and fulfilment.

He began to unwind and as one addendum to the lesson I came over him and said, “And now, my love you can taste yourself and I can taste myself.”

The aroma and residue of my lubricant were still on his lips and face. I kissed him, thrusting into his mouth some of his own sperm, while I smelt and tasted myself.

I had not had an orgasm, and was in a terrible state of arousal, so taking advantage of my recent lesson, I sat across him and lowered my vagina to his lips saying, “Make me come darling.”

He had learned his lesson well, and he began to lick my inner lips, and then moved to my clitoris.

It was my turn to put my hands behind his head and force him to stay with me as I shook with the coming of my orgasm. I felt it as waves of love for him coursing with exquisite pain through my entire body. Once more I was screaming my love and desire for him and ended with weeping for the joy I had in him.