Twice Smitten – A Love Story Ch. 01

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Somewhere I think I’ve mentioned falling in love, perhaps in conversation with Edith (see the sequence ‘In the Knickers of Time.’ Well, I’ll tell the story, partly because the Edith-Cynthia relationship has reminded me of my own, two-phased, affair.


In the early 1990s I was changing horses. The erotic artworks agency was being overtaken by new technology. Transmission becoming electronic, difficult to manage, and I had no wish to become embroiled in it. There were still clients who wanted originals. Just enough of them to enable me to add a second degree to my first in art history. I planned to become a language-teacher, and was back at university, and met Leslie.

He also was changing career, from advertising to languages, and our being mature students brought us together. We settled into working as a pair, in the library and our rooms, sitting next to each other in seminars. We discovered shared interests, in country-walking, films and concerts. We conversed in the languages and developed quirky little research projects. He sought out sayings and proverbs particular to one language, not found in others. My interest was in the degrees of rudeness in words and phrases, varying between languages.

He was in physique my favourite sort of man. Small, about my own height, probably weighing less than me, smooth-skinned, tight-bottomed. Though it was some time before I got to check the last. He was pale, with ashy-blonde curls cut short, so his brown eyes were startling, the more so as he always gave you his full attention, fixing his gaze on you as if what you had to say was vitally important. His voice was light tenor and cultured. In short, he was beautiful, and entirely lacking in vanity.

Were we sleeping together? Well, eventually, but we were not having sex, not for a long while. Or, rather, he wasn’t, not fully. We’ll get to that. Meantime we were close friends and kissed on meeting and separating, but he generated a kind of forcefield which ensured that for a while we progressed no further than affection, and I understood that over-stepping the mark would lose him. It seemed that he needed to establish that I was not simply eager for intercourse. I guessed he’d been exploited or misled by some voracious female. Or male, perhaps. I realised, too, that my proximity was protecting him from unwanted attentions.              Since I was, I found to my wry amusement, in love with him beyond the bounds of friendship, I had to be careful to conceal my accompanying desire. This meant much self-control, and debarred me from any sexual liaisons, for they would have been a betrayal of my focus on him. So, aside from a modicum of not very intense masturbation, I was without sexual satisfaction. What puzzled me, however, was the fact that he was clearly not indifferent to my charms, for I often noticed him glancing at my breasts.

This situation became more complicated on the night in our third term when we finished working late in his room and I rose to leave. He said, ‘You don’t have to go. Come to bed,’ and my heart leapt for a moment, until I intuited that though we might share the bed consummation would probably not follow. However, I began to undress without comment, and he watched intently.              


I’ve never been overly modest and was not embarrassed to be standing naked, whatever happened next. He said, ‘As I thought, you have beautiful breasts, Norma, beautiful. Turn round, would you? Yes, a fine bottom, too.’ There was in his tone something sad, as if my bum and bosoms were unattainable, or forbidden.

But next minute he had reached out to draw me close and was gently stroking my bum while nuzzling my nipples. Even this seemed more wistful than lustful. Then he stood and stripped, and I almost expected him to say, ‘Ta-da!’ He submitted himself to my inspection, to parallel his scrutiny of me, and he seemed anxious about my verdict. Which was that he was indeed beautiful. There was no excess fat, and his muscles were well-defined. His waist was probably slimmer than mine and there was no body-hair apart from a ring of tight curls at his groin. His thick flaccid cock hung down, evidently not inspired by my nudity. I bade him turn round and told him he had a nice bottom, too. He seemed disappointed, as if I were missing some vital feature.

‘Anything strike you?’ he prompted.

‘If you want compliments, Leslie,’ I said, ‘You are a fine, handsome man.’

‘Lie on the bed, Norma,’ he commanded. ‘Open your legs. Yes, like that.’ But he was not going to enter me, with or without preliminaries. Instead, he gazed fixedly at my exposed vulva, grasped his cock and manipulated it a little. It began to thicken and rise and I was evidently meant to observe this with some negative reaction. Of course, my response was of interested hopefulness. Were we at last going to make love? No, I thought not.

When it was fully erect the cock was probably nine inches long and as thick as three fingers. Impressive, but was I to fear it or admire it? No, I was to be repelled, because, letting go of it, he said, ‘Horrible, isn’t it? İstanbul Escort A total freak.’

‘What’s freakish about it?’ I asked. ‘It looks quite normal to me.’

‘And you’ve seen a lot?’

‘Well, I’ve seen quite a few.’

‘Any of them as big as this?’ His tone was bitter.

‘One or two were not far off. Mostly just average size. But they vary, you know.’

‘So you don’t think this one’s ugly and elephantine?’

‘Not at all. It’s simply part of you.’

‘No-one had told you it was large?’

‘Are you implying I wanted to get close to you because you had a big penis?’

This was clearly a fear at the back of his mind. ‘Leslie,’ I said, closing my legs and standing up, ‘The size of your prick is nothing to do with my feelings for you.’             

He seemed reassured, embraced me and turned back the bedclothes for me. ‘Do you still want to stay, after that?’ he asked.

‘I think you need to tell me about it,’ I said, sliding between the sheets.

His cock had shrunk again, demonstration over. He got in with me, and I gathered him in my arms. We lay still a while, and then he began to speak. ‘I knew it was pretty large from seeing other boys in the showers. Some of them pointed and made remarks, mostly of envy. Of course, I masturbated, like most boys, and thought about girls, particularly about their breasts. I envied those. I wanted to have some. Then, when I was eighteen, the mother of a school-friend seduced me, and gave me a clue. When she saw me fully hard she stared and drew in a little breath. I didn’t register it at the time, because I was busy admiring her tits. They were big and squashy, and the nipples were large and dark red, not like my mother’s. Yes, I was voyeuring my mother, looking down her nightdress, catching her in the shower.

‘I’d got obsessed with breasts and took every chance to see them, in art books, films, on the beach. I wanted to touch them and suck them, but I wanted them to be mine with someone else stroking and touching them. Then another woman made it clear she was available, and when I was inside her she made little noises, as if she’d just proved something. She said something like, ‘You really are a big boy, aren’t you?’ Since I wasn’t a big boy I guessed she meant my penis. That rather pleased me, especially when she pulled at me to cram it in and had an orgasm. I knew what it was from reading about sex. I hadn’t been quite sure about the first woman, though I knew she’d liked having me inside.

‘When a third woman, a friend of my mother’s, asked me to help her with some heavy lifting and wanted me to stay for tea in the empty house, I began to think this sex business was easy. We were soon in her spare-bedroom and she couldn’t wait to get me undressed and get hold of my cock. She didn’t let go, in fact, until she’d lain down on the bed and positively pulled me into her. She was wet and slippery already, and later I realised she’d been anticipating my going into her. At the time I was, as with the other two, trying to watch her breasts, because the hardening of the nipples was terribly exciting. Later on I found that would make me come as much as sliding in and out of a vagina. And after that I used to time my ejaculation to follow the woman’s orgasm, because I loved the way her breasts swelled.’ He stopped and kissed my breasts, which were not swelling.,

‘You were in clover, well, in cunt, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, but then I finally caught on. I was being passed from woman to woman, cunt to cunt, because they were sharing me around, tipping each other off. I could imagine their hints. “If you want a fulfilling experience, there’s young Leslie.” Emphasis on the ‘filling.’ “You know what they say about small men? Well, Leslie…” And so on.’

‘And you didn’t like that? You were getting all that sex, and…?’

‘I was just a penis, a means to an end. They had no particular interest in me, otherwise. They didn’t bother whether I came or not, and sometimes I didn’t, because as soon as they’d come they were out from under and making the bed, and I was going home hard.’

‘And this was before you went to university? What happened there?’

‘Well, no-one knew me there, of course, so I settled in fine, and since all my experience had been with older, married, women, I didn’t know anything much about girls my age, and I was shy, and I didn’t try to approach any of them. For all I knew they were all virgins, taboo. Of course, this was the seventies so actually some, maybe many, of them were on the pill. True, as I found out later. Meanwhile I was celibate and concentrated on my work, which I loved, anyway.’

‘Then something happened.’

‘Yes. In my first vacation, back home, I went to a meeting of my local bird-watching group, and after the talk on warblers the organiser’s wife offered to drive me home. She was a big, solid woman, and I’d often fantasised about her breasts. On the journey in her car I suddenly realised she had a hand up her skirt and was wriggling about in her seat. She didn’t mind me watching – she wanted me to. She parked in a car-park near my home, put my hand on her thigh, Bayan Escort pulled down the front of her knickers and transferred the hand on her pussy. She said, “She’s ready, isn’t she? Oh yes, she is, all wet and warm.” I started fumbling at the buttons on her dress, and she said, “No time for that.” She got out and leaned in to say, “Hurry up. I must get back.” Since she’d given me the lift and I was naturally excited by the invitation and the urgency I got out and walked round to her. She reached up her skirt and pulled her knickers down, stepping out with one leg, leaving them clinging round the other.

‘She said, “Get ready. It’ll have to be quick,” and turned round, flipped up her skirt and spread herself face down over the bonnet, bottom towards me. It was certainly inviting, shining in the semi-dark, and I dropped my pants. She said, ‘Bring him to me.” So I positioned myself, she grabbed my cock, pulled me into her, and said, “Good long one. She wants him. Oh, yes, he’s going in. Push hard. She likes it hard, right in deep. Back out a bit. That’s right. Now hard in again. She’s starting! Do it again. Oh, yes, she’s going. Again. Oooohh! here she goes.” I could feel her coming. She was clenching and wriggling her bottom for a few moments, then she suddenly stood up and shook me out.

‘She turned round, felt underneath her, and said, ‘You didn’t do much, did you?’ Then she got the leg back into the knickers, gave me a peck on the cheek, and said, “You can walk from here, can’t you?” She got into the car, started, reversed and was gone, before I could say, “I didn’t do anything at all,” because I’d never had the chance.’

He stopped, and I said, ‘That was a crucial moment, I think.’

‘Yes, because that wasn’t just a time I didn’t come, it was the future.’

‘You haven’t been able to come since then.’

‘Not inside. I felt terrible about going into that woman at all, because I so much liked and admire her husband, who’d been my mentor and friend, and I thought of the other married women, how I was helping them betray their husbands, all so sneaky and shameful.’

‘And what about with unmarried women?’

‘Next term at university I fell in love. She was so different from those mature women. She was small in every way, but full of life and fun, and I found out she wasn’t a virgin the first time we went to bed, because when I hesitated she told me not to worry, because I wasn’t going to hurt her or get her pregnant. But when we were in bed I hesitated again, because she was so small. She laughed when I said why, and told me that, as with men, the size of the person didn’t dictate the size of the equipment, and she took hold of me to guide me in, and I couldn’t get hard. She was warm and sympathetic and told me not to worry. It was probably because I was nervous, not having been with a young woman before, and we could just cuddle and talk.’

‘You’d told her about your past experience?’

‘Yes, but not about the last episode.’

‘So, you cuddled and talked.’

‘Yes, but I wanted to make love to her so much, to show her how I felt about her, and I kissed her all over and sucked her nipples and licked her clitoris until she came. I loved doing it, because I enjoyed it when her little nipples erected and her little breasts swelled. I even thought that seeing those would get me hard, though I didn’t really care about that…’

‘You wanted to be the girl with the hard nips and the expanding tits.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You’ve been telling me, in a way, and I’ve come across this before. Go on.’

‘Well, we were happy together for a couple of terms. We slept together and I made her come, again and again, and didn’t bother about whether I erected or not. But I realised eventually that I had stronger feelings about her than she did about me, and that she would like to have vaginal sex. And that made me feel even more impotent.’

‘Were you able to masturbate? Did she try tossing you off?’

‘Yes. She could make me come all right, but as soon as I approached her cunt it went flop. Then it got worse. She suggested it might be because I cared too much about her and I should try with one of her friends, who would be happy to oblige.’

‘What happened?’

‘She was a big, bouncy, horsey girl, who went at me like a nurse doing a procedure. She laid me down on her bed and climbed all over me with her big bouncy breasts and her big bouncy bottom, and she tugged and sucked, and I told her I needed to see her nipples erect and her breasts swell, and she said that wouldn’t happen until I was inside her and she came. So, she got me hard and then straddled me like I was one of her horses and went to put me in, and I ejaculated and went limp before she could get me in. And she was a persistent girl, because she sat with me while I recovered and then did it all over again. Same result.’

‘So, to be clear, hands were effective but cunts were no-entry?’

‘That’s right. Then it got worse, because horsey-girl spread the news I had this monster penis, which I could get up but which I couldn’t get up a girl.’

‘And they wanted to Eskort compete, to see who could get you in?’

‘Each one thought she had some secret trick or technique that would do the magic Four of them, as well as the horsey-girl.’

‘Were you happy to go along with this sequence of treatments?’

‘Well, yes, because I was desperate to be able to be inside Sally, my love.’

‘What did they do?’


‘The first one primed with sparkling wine. We sat in her room, just talking and drinking until she thought I was relaxed. Then she undressed me and whipped off her clothes, which was quick because she was bare underneath, and she guided me to her bed and licked me all over, especially my penis, which sat up all right. But she didn’t try to bring her vagina to bear. She told me to use my tongue and fingers, so she’d come. She knew I found erected nipples and swollen breasts exciting. She lay on top of me while I worked on her clit with a finger, and as soon as she came she tried to slide down my stomach to get her vagina opening over my penis before I could soften. But this was all so mechanical and I was probably too drunk, anyway, and I couldn’t come at all, outside, or in my lady’s chamber.’

‘What did the second expert do?’

‘She was a sporty girl, who knew all about massage, and who decided she would practise her art in a special way. And there I was laid out on her special massage table, oiled from face to foot, as was she, naked and glistening and palpating my every digit and limb, with special attention to back and buttocks. Eventually she was sitting on my thighs, hands kneading and moulding every muscle and sinew and eventually enclosing in both hands my half-hard cock. It obligingly erected and would have ejaculated, and at that point she reversed herself so that I was pointing at her bottom. ‘Between my cheeks now,’ she commanded, reaching behind her to grasp my penis and guide me into those lean cheeks. Then, as my tip hovered around her anus, with a swift movement she switched the point of entry, hoping I would simply glide into her well-oiled orifice. But as soon as I became aware of this sleight of bum my cock jetted onto her bum and wilted forthwith. I forbore to remark that with a larger-cheeked bott she might have been able to mask the manoeuvre, and get me inside, where I would probably have shed my load, possibly obviating the old problem.’

‘The theory was, I gather, that if you could once ejaculate in a vagina your inhibition would be overcome, shall we say, and you would thereafter happily come in cunt, any cunt.’

‘Of course, I realised along the way, I would need to believe that, too, and though I longed to credit it I was sceptical, and thus reinforcing the taboo. Anyway, girl three proposed hypnosis and sleep. I played a hard game of hockey in the afternoon, ate a light supper and went to her room, where she put me naked to bed, remaining fully dressed herself, carefully refraining from any hint of sexual activity. She then began to croon soothingly, assuring me that I was sleepy, so sleepy, my eyelids were heavy, a drowsy numbness pained my sense, and so on and so on. Whether or not the hypnosis played any part I certainly fell asleep pretty soon. And awoke some time later to find the girl crouched over me, holding my cock and about to lower her pelvis to sheath it in her vagina.’

‘Nice word-play, Leslie, since “vagina” means “sheath.” We are linguists, after all.’

‘Well, she didn’t manage to sheathe me, partly because I was fully conscious at once, and partly because she was too dry, so that I simply came on her vulva and before she could use the sperm to lubricate I’d shrunk.’

‘Were you enjoying the coming, though?’

‘Not much, because it wasn’t happening where wanted and was just a kind of reflex.’

‘They tried, massage, hypnotism and bosom-expansion. What was left?’

‘Psychology. Dr Sarah proposed re-enactment, but with a different out-come. I had to describe my last vaginal experience with the bird-watcher’s wife, just as I’ve told you, in every last detail. She reluctantly conceded we weren’t going to be able to make use of a car-park, but we’d mock up the setting as best we could.’

‘Have you ever told these stories to anyone else, Leslie? You’re giving them such a polished and semi-comic performance I’m suspecting rehearsal.’

‘My mother.’

‘A boy’s best friend. Wonderful you could be so frank with her.’

‘I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, Dr Sarah was quite a big girl and she got herself up in a similar outfit to that of the birdman’s wife, and she adjusted the lighting and we sat side by side in two of the university’s standard student accommodation plastic chairs. I chatted about the warbler talk and she put her left hand up her skirt and wriggled about a bit. She parked my hand on her thigh, pulled down the front of her knickers and put my hand on her pussy. She said, “She’s ready, isn’t she? Oh yes, she is, all wet and warm.” I fumbled at the buttons on her dress, and she said, “No time for that.” She got up and said, “Hurry up. I must get back.” I wasn’t actually much excited by the invitation, but I’d agreed to go through with the charade, so I got up. She reached up her skirt and pulled her knickers down, stepping out with one leg, leaving them clinging round the other, a manoeuvre she’d clearly practised.

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