I was a sophomore in college when I met Lauren. She was a freshman, away from home for the first time. We began dating that fall. Sexually, I was still very inexperienced. I had never had sexual intercourse up to that point. In fact, I had never gone farther with a girl than making out. Masturbation was my only release and sometimes I wondered if I would ever feel the intimate touch of a female. (I was definitely a late bloomer in this department!)
Things would change with Lauren. She was about 5’10” with rather long brunette hair. She had a smoldering brown gaze and the cute figure of an 18-year-old. Lauren was just as sexually inexperienced as I but we would soon progress from kissing to manual stimulation. Feeling her pretty fingers around my stiff penis was so wonderful. Coating them with my creamy semen was even better. I love the feeling of my masturbation but the warmth of a female hand at that time was unequaled.
After we dated for about six weeks, I decided I needed to try oral sex. I wiggled Lauren out of her tight pants and went down on her with only the knowledge of what I had read in Penthouse or heard from the guys. The smell was sweet, the taste of her juices even better. My tongue swirled around her clitoris and I could feel it hardening as she moaned and squirmed with pleasure. I pursed my lips around her clit, feeling her orgasm. When she finished, I pulled myself up to her and we kissed long and deep. I didn’t ask her to reciprocate, thinking that would come when she was ready.
I ate Lauren out several times and finally coaxed her into sucking me. She didn’t know what to do and asked me how. I pretended like I knew and gave her some instruction.
“What do I do when you cum?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Swallow it, I guess.”
She sucked my penis like a pro. At least to a virgin who had never been sucked before, she felt like a pro. I came in her mouth and she sucked and swallowed my sperm down her pretty, long throat.
Lauren and I broke up not long after that. I was crushed. I would masturbate, pretending my hand was Lauren’s. It wasn’t the same, of course. We went to a small college so we saw one another nearly every day, which was kind of tough. Time went by. I found other girlfriends and lost my virginity. Lauren dated a couple of other guys, lost her virginity and actually gained a reputation as a bit of a slut. I remember feeling empty that she was fucking these other guys but not me.
Gradually, Lauren and I became good platonic friends. There was a bit of an edge to our relationship, something like unfinished business lurking underneath. We never acted on it until my senior year.
It was January of 1982. I lived in a basement apartment a few blocks from campus. Students were just arriving back for the start of the second semester, and a huge snowstorm was bearing down on our college town. It was the Sunday before classes started and students seemed to be late returning, probably due to the weather. I went over to Lauren’s on-campus apartment to see if she had arrived from Boston.
“Hey, I’m glad you are here,” she exclaimed when she answered the door. “I was just thinking of coming over to see you!”
We hugged hello like old friends do, but I’m sure the same thoughts were going through our minds. Before we left for Christmas break, I had been over to Lauren’s apartment studying. We had a beer, and Lauren decided she should give me a back-rub. It got pretty hot and I thought we might “do it” that night, but I left with a huge boner and a wink from my pretty brunette pal. Feeling her hug, smelling her hair as we embraced in her doorway reminded me of that unfinished business.
“My roommates are going to be loud,” she said. “Let’s get a bottle of wine and some cheese and go over to your place.”
How could I not agree? Even if we didn’t end up fucking, I still loved spending time with a young woman who had become almost like a sister to me. How could I not want to hear her tell her silly college girl stories and gaze at that smile and hear her laugh at my jokes?
We walked to a liquor store, then over to my place. The snow had started coming down harder, and it was good to get into someplace warm. We tossed our coats on my bed and sat in the front room and cracked open the wine and the cheese, talking and laughing nonstop for more than an hour. We were getting a bit of a buzz on.
Outside, the snow was piling up against the basement window. Lauren laughed. “Looks like I might get snowed-in here!”
We laughed uncontrollably!
I wasn’t in love with her romantically, but like you love your best friend. However, that night I felt that sexual urge; that longing for her that I had contained for more than two years.
I don’t remember what it was, but for some reason at that point Lauren bent down from her chair to pick something up or do something with her shoe. When she did, her hand hit something under chair. That “something” was a stack of girlie magazines I had stashed there.
Let me add that even back then I was a huge masturbation freak. I had been having sex with a couple of girlfriends by that point in my life but I still loved the feel and thrill of my auto-erotic experiences. Nothing has really changed from then to now, but back then I never shared it with anyone. Today, I love being open about my sexuality and my masturbation. I love sharing it with my wife and with other close friends and people I meet online, and it doesn’t embarrass me a bit. However, at age 21 I was too timid about my sexuality and feared anyone finding out how much I pleasured myself and how much I enjoyed it. I feared I was the only one in the world doing it and would be a pariah if discovered.
“What’s this?” Lauren exclaimed as she pulled the stack of mags from under the chair.
“Uh….Uh….” I stammered. “Just some magazines I was reading.”
Lauren pulled out several issues of Playboy, a Penthouse and a few other lesser-known titles.
“Reading, huh?” she said as she gazed at me with this surprised but wickedly beautiful smile. “Mmmm. Let me see what you are reading.”
I felt my face redden and I wanted to run from the room. At the same time, I felt a hardening in my crotch and an excitement through my whole body now that my best female pal was discovering my intimate secret. She seemed amused and intrigued, not shocked and disgusted I might have feared.
We started going through one of the Playboys. I must stay, all jokes aside, that I DID and still do read Playboys for the articles; some of the best writing in the English language. Lauren studied the articles and said: “They write some really interesting stuff. A girl can like this.”
We got to the centerfold. “Wow, she’s pretty but she’s HUGE,” Lauren exclaimed as she looked at Miss January, 1981 Karen Price’s foldout. “All these girls have huge boobs.”
Lauren had put me at ease but there was still excitement in the air. Then, it got more interesting. She went to turn the next page but it was stuck to another. She ripped them apart, making a rather loud and noticeable noise. One of my masturbation sessions had resulted in the “sticky page” situation that guys joke about. As the sound of the paper separating echoed around my living room, Lauren looked at me with a faux-cross expression.
“Mm Hmm. I see.” A sly smile barely creased the corners of her mouth as our eyes locked.
I felt myself turning even redder. She went back to perusing the magazine then picked up another. When she got to a pictorial, she again had to rip the cum-stuck pages apart.
“Mmmm Hmmm.” She looked at me once again with her fake look of dismay, her pretty smile a little bigger. Lauren wasn’t fazed by discovering my spattered masturbatory cum, and it was exciting to realize this. We went through several more magazines together, finding several more stuck pages. Her giggles at discovering my masturbation habit weren’t mean; they sounded joyful. Here, through girly magazines on a snowy night, we were really getting to know one another even better by sharing this intimate secret.
We talked about the articles in the magazines for a while until that became boring. Finishing our wine, we were both very tipsy. Conversation stalled for a few seconds. Lauren looked to the window, now almost covered by snow.
“I don’t think I should go anywhere in this.”
“I don’t think you should either.”
Our eyes locked. Lauren grabbed my hand and we both stood. Quickly, she led me into to my bedroom. We stood a couple of feet apart looking into each other’s eyes. She started stripping first and I quickly followed. In a moment, we were both naked. I took a step toward her and we embraced and kissed, my erect penis pressing into her warm, taught abdomen.
I led her to my bed, pushed away our coats, and we lay on top of the sheets. I had fantasized about this moment for a couple of years. Lauren, now one of my best friends, was finally in my bed. I was about to fuck her. How could this go wrong?
Well, as most of us guys find out sometime, too much anticipation, nervousness, and eagerness to please can ruin such a moment. My erection slowly faded. Efforts to get him back were futile.
“That’s OK,” said Lauren, a clearly discernible measure of resignation in her voice. “Nothing would have happened anyway.”
I wanted to cry. How frustrating. Lauren pulled me close to her naked body and pulled the covers over us. She embraced me and kissed my cheek. The feel of her hands, her lips, her legs intertwined with mine brought me comfort. The sound of her breathing took me to another place. It was only a minute or two, but this moment of comfort had relieved my anxiety. I felt my penis hardening, filling with pleasure.
“Lauren,” I whispered, placing her hand on my member.
By the dim light shining through the window, I could see her smile widen. Her lovely fingers gripped my penis as if to offer her reassurance that it was stiff and ready to penetrate her moist folds. We kissed and began to again fondle one another. There was no turning back. Our tongues investigated each other’s mouth. My fingers rubbed her mound then discovered her moist slot. I used her moisture to prepare her clitoris then rubbed the region around her pulsing love button. Her fingers caressed my testicles as my penis throbbed and quivered above it.
“Let me grab a condom,” I said as I reached over toward the nightstand.
Lauren grabbed my arm. “Timmy,” she said firmly. “I’m on the pill.”
I let that hang there for a second. What a beautiful thing to hear! I smile at her and our lips met. We continued our prelude of foreplay. I positioned myself between her legs. On my knees, I aimed my hard penis toward her wet and waiting vagina. Lauren’s slender fingers ran up and down my member, then squeezed and helped me aim. I felt the head rub her outer lips. I pressed and gently slid into her. I lay on my friend and our tongues again became entwined. We moved in rhythm as the pleasure and passion swept us. I’m not sure how long we went, but it was a while. Lauren on top then me on top; on our sides.
Finally I felt Lauren reaching an orgasm. She shuddered and her vagina became incredibly wet, gripping my penis and squeezing it as if to ask for all of its semen. I soon gave it to her, bucking and shuddering as my seed was spurted deep into her wet womb. My ex-girlfriend, my dear pal and study partner was taking my cum inside her and appeared to be loving it. I loved giving it to her. We curled up together and soon fell asleep in each other’s arms as the snow swirled outside. Overnight, we awoke and aroused each other and fucked a couple more times, each one as good as before.
When morning came, we awoke and looked at each other. The wine had worn off but not our affection for each other. We smiled and then both laughed. We kissed each other on the cheek, then on the mouth and embraced! It was joyful.
Walking back to campus that morning, we got word that classes had been canceled because of the snow and ice. I got Lauren back to her apartment and we embraced long and hard at the door.
“That was wonderful. I’m so glad I stayed with you last night,” she whispered in my ear.
“I am, too."
Although I kind of hoped we might do it again, it was the last time we had sex. Lauren remained my good friend through college. A few years after I graduated, she came to visit me when she was in my area. We went to dinner, went dancing and then went to my home. Lauren slept on the couch.
When she left the next day, we embraced in my driveway. Giving me a long goodbye gaze, she said: “I always miss you so much. I’m so glad I came to see you.”
“I’m glad, too.”
I wanted to add “I love you”, because I did and I do. I didn’t say it, though. It might have been over the top. Our eyes and smiles and the touch of our hands said it.
In letters to each other, we usually closed with “Love, Tim,” and “Love, Lauren”. She wrote me after she got back home: “I keep thinking of you in that red sweater,” the sweater I had worn the previous weekend. That said “I love you.”
I love you, my friend, my lover, my sister.
Time went by, and we fell out of touch. Scant news would reach me from mutual friends. When the Facebook era arrived, we found one another. No big reunion. Married with two children and another life, she is occupied and so am I. I seldom go to New England, she almost never comes south. An infrequent poke on Facebook was our only contact for a few years. She hasn’t posted there in years. Her children are well into their teens. Busy with life, I suppose. Aren’t we all?
Writing this has reminded me of our warm friendship and our sexual discovery. I learned to not be so afraid of my sexuality and learned that sharing is exciting and beautiful. It’s especially beautiful with a dear friend. I’m going to masturbate thinking of Lauren tonight. I am going to think of that 20-year old I held and laughed with. I’m going to think of her discovering my masturbation secret, of her sharing her warm, moist and sexy body. I will think of her friendship so long ago.
I don’t know if Lauren masturbates and sometimes thinks of me but if she does, I think she will be wearing the same wonderful smile as I.