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Chelsea and I met as classmates in grad school. Our first class together was a small course with only a few people registered, and fewer still who regularly attended. It was impossible not to notice the most attractive female in the room–slim, about sirens viv thomas 6 pleasant inches shorter than myself, with waist-length dark brown hair. Her breasts were admittedly small (though not unnoticeable), but she had a fantastic ass that was perfectly emphasized by her tight-fitting jeans. She wore jeans to class most of the time, generally accompanied by a thin tank top that somehow avoided being slutty while still showing a tantalizing glimpse of her waist. Her face was beautiful, and avoided the common trap of somehow suggesting that her IQ hovered in the vicinity of her age. In fact, the opposite was true–Chelsea was exceptionally bright, and a very hard worker. I've been lucky to be quite a ways above average in terms of intelligence, and it was an unusual treat to sit next to someone who seemed to be at least on par with me in terms of raw intellect, not to mention the fact that she put in a great deal more effort (I am pathologically lazy, and have generally coasted through school with ease). If Chelsea noticed me from the beginning, she certainly didn't show it. She rarely initiated eye viv thomas free videos contact, and her body language said she was not opposed to speaking with me, but she still carried the bodily equivalent to a poker face. Still, something told me that she had noticed me as well, and she had that subtle but unmistakable aura of alluring sexuality about her. Her fingernails were a bit long for my taste, but that didn't stop me from checking her out at every opportunity. I regularly engaged her in conversation, and she reciprocated openly. Before long, we became friends, or something. I honestly wasn't clear what my feelings for her were, but I was coming out of a relationship with a bitchy (albeit incredibly hot) girl whose sex drive was abysmally low, and whether or not I wanted Chelsea romantically, I absolutely wanted her sexually. The more I got to know her, the more frustrated I became by my inability to figure out what I was looking for–besides fucking. We went out a few times for drinks and hung out at my apartment. I lived alone, but I'm not one to rush into making a move, as I like to avoid scaring women away by jumping into things too quickly. On the third "date," I drove her home, and we hugged goodbye. As she moved away to reach for the car door, I pulled her toward me with my hand that still rested on her back, and leaned in to kiss her. Chelsea responded with surprising warmth, our lips locking for brief moments each time before sliding over each other pleasantly. I remember my irritating pickiness being somewhat off-put by her cinnamon chapstick, but told myself to stuff it and enjoy this warm, inviting young woman. After a few seconds of inviting kissing, Chelsea gave me a brief look of desire, affection, and pleasure before abruptly getting out of the car and going into the house she was renting. After the first kiss, our next get-together involved relaxing on my couch and making out. Her long hair always found a way to get in our mouths, and she found it strange or unexpected that I brushed it away so fervently. It didn't matter so much to me, as she was a great kisser and her body was unusually warm against mine. For her sake, I regret that I still wasn't sure what I wanted from her emotionally–I was carried away by my increasing desire to explore her body from the inside. As our kissing became more frantic, my hands began to wander, caressing and rubbing over her breasts and drifting down her waist, running up her spine to hold her neck or lace my fingers in her hair. As I tried to pull her tank top and bra straps off of her shoulder simultaneously, she stopped me, but continued kissing me lustfully. This sort of thing continued for a few get-togethers: we would hang out, enjoy each other's company, laugh together watching stupid videos on the internet, and eventually make out, but she generally brushed away my roving hands. I hadn't wanted to be pushy the first few times, but my confusion ultimately forced me to ask her why she did this. She answered briefly but adequately that she had just gotten out of a long relationship with the guy for whom she had moved here (halfway across the country), and it would be too weird right now. That didn't last long. I respected her space, but after hanging out a few more times I got the distinct impression that she was ready for more. We were making out again, and she was straddling me on the couch as we got more and more excited. That time, she leaned even harder into my hands as they roved over her body, and I could feel her excitement as I removed her top and quickly unhooked her bra. I wasted little time in moving my lips and tongue to her ear, her neck, her collarbone...my hands enjoyed the warmth of her breasts and my fingers teased at and pinched her firm nipples. As I moved my mouth to her nipples, she began to moan, and I soon discovered that either her nipples were extremely sensitive or her sex drive was simply explosive (or both). I grabbed her ass with both hands and stood up. She quickly wrapped her legs around me and I carried her to the bedroom, throwing her down and climbing on top of her. We kissed more passionately, roughly, and scratched and pulled at each other's bodies as I clumsily undid the button of her jeans with one hand and worked her jeans and panties off, not bothering to remove her socks. She pulled my shirt off, viv thomas forum and my fingers found that her pussy was warm, firm, and extremely ready to be filled with something. I hooked two fingers inside her, rubbing over her g-spot as we kissed and I eventually leaned down to suck on her nipples. She clawed at my neck and back, moaning and panting. I could tell that she was desperately turned on, but she generally did not make any first moves, and seemed to be waiting for me to continue. I climbed off and removed my pants, boxers, and socks. I then joined her again on the bed, straddling her chest with my rock hard erection in front of her face. I reached behind me and continued to finger her as she leaned up readily and took my head in her mouth. She grabbed the rails of the headboard with both hands for leverage, and bobbed her head up and down on my cock. She moaned as she moved her tongue and lips over the first couple of inches, and I could tell that she was not terribly practiced, as her teeth grazed me repeatedly. For the moment, I didn't care. After a few minutes of her sucking my dick while I fingered her, I pulled out of her mouth, removed my fingers from her wet pussy and lay down on top of her. We resumed kissing wildly, desperately, almost angrily–she remains one of the most passionate lovers I have ever had. I somehow managed to properly put on a condom. She grabbed my hips and ass with her hands and spread her legs, and I penetrated her deeply on the first thrust, my cock welcomed smoothly into her tight body. Her back arched immediately and she moaned loudly as I wasted no time warming up to the new feeling of our naked bodies pressed together, my hips moving at a medium pace and thrusting my cock firmly inside her. Her back stayed stubbornly arched, as if her body was winding up and preparing to release months of pent-up sexual tension. After a few minutes, I pulled out and said breathlessly, "bend over." She immediately got on all fours in front of me, and I plunged my throbbing cock inside her again. I grabbed onto her hips and fucked her hard and fast. She soon gasped, "for fuck's sake, slow down!" and I complied, again thrusting strongly at a medium pace while she ground her ass back against me. We continued this way for a sweaty while before I flipped her over again, fucking her in missionary before collapsing on top of her after about 20 minutes of sex. I have never had an orgasm fucking a new girl for the first time. It was difficult to tell if Chelsea had managed to get off properly, and I felt disappointed in myself for not satisfying her thoroughly. We fucked several more times after that, with our bodies getting more accustomed to one another each time–still, I didn't cum, and I'm fairly certain that she may have had the smaller, wave-like orgasms, but never truly exploded. At this point, I generally start to communicate verbally, asking my partner what they need to get off properly. I am usually not satisfied with myself until I can fulfill the cliche of fucking a girl to the point that she can't walk properly. Chelsea and I had simply been enjoying the animal pleasure of pouncing on each other and ripping our clothes off, and had not wasted time talking once our minds landed on sex. Unfortunately, I soon left for summer work at the opposite end of the country. When I returned, a brief romance with a former love was rekindled, and I deeply regretted that I had led Chelsea on emotionally. I am still frustrated with myself for the way I handled things with her–she deserved better, physically and emotionally. demon9949