I can’t believe I’m telling this story. It seems a bit embarrassing now, but I didn’t know better back then. I was still a virgin. My sexual experience involved watching porn, rubbing my pussy, and the occasional oral gratification. I wasn’t even sure if I knew what an orgasm was. I was pretty sure I’d climaxed, rubbing myself and oral felt amazing, then I’d get hypersensitive and stop. Orgasm? Possibly. Climax? Definitely.
So, I was lying there, enjoying my pussy being eaten with extraordinary care, when the oversensitive sensation took over. I wriggled under his touch, his hot breath torturing my clit as his tongue lapped softly.
“I gotta pee,” I informed as my body jerked with every touch.
“Just go with it,” he responded naturally.
“Just go with it?” I looked at him with disbelieving eyes. “I don’t want to pee the bed!”
“It’s not pee,” he encouraged.
“Then what is it?”
“Squirt,” he stated with all the conviction of a man absolutely sure of himself.
A few drops leaked as he continued to tease my clit, licking with long, broad strokes from the bottom of my opening to the top of my hood. I clamped tightly.
“It feels like pee,” I insisted as warm fluid ran down the crack of my ass.
He yielded, “O.K., go pee.” He moved away and allowed me to satisfy my urge. When I returned, he looked at me, “Can I prove to you it isn’t pee?”
“How?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Let me continue licking,” he smiled with confidence. I lay back down on the bed and spread my legs, inviting him to continue his skillful work. “Just relax,” he instructed.
He had barely touched my sensitive nub when the sensations returned, stronger than before, as the juices began to dribble out. I clenched down again.
“Relax,” he laughed.
“I don’t want to pee on you!”
“You’re not. It’s not pee.”
“How do you know?” I queried.
“I just do. You’re not going to offend me. I like the squirt. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then just let yourself enjoy the orgasm.” With that, he continued his onslaught on my lips, my labia, and my hard, sensitive bud that threatened to betray me with every caress. He held my hips, controlling my erratic motion against his face.
Three strokes later, I relinquished my spurt of fluid against his face… squoosh! I clamped instinctively; he did not stop… squoosh! I tightened up again… squoosh! He looked at me with a broad smile, face dripping, then dipped down to continue. After that, my bucking became even more erratic as he matched my every move; lips and tongue lovingly stroking my clit and labia; Squoosh! Squoosh! Squoosh!
He stopped, allowing me a moment of recovery. Smiling, dripping, satisfied.
“Believe me now?” He asked smugly.
“Yes,” I responded breathlessly.
He grabbed a nearby towel and dried his face, then moved between my legs. He made no demands, no requests. He placed his rigid cock flat against my clit and began sliding back and forth. My body responded immediately, gushing more fluid onto his shaft and balls. He smiled at me warmly, and I smiled back. He continued to do this, and every time I squirted on him, he would smile at me with pure pleasure. He never tried to claim more, respecting our boundaries, he just pleasured me until I could handle no more, then he moved away and finished himself.
I lay still on the bed, my whole body vibrating with the afterglow of my first squirt, my first definitive orgasm; the flush across my body, the smile evident on my face. Completely satisfied and thankful that I trusted his judgment.
“You made a mess,” he chuckled. I realized the puddle I was lying in and chuckled as well.
“I think you made a mess,” I retorted.
“I may have had a hand in it.”
We both laughed, then got up to clean ourselves before returning to cuddle.
