From My Diaries #2: "Before Curvy Claire: Part 3"

From My Diaries #2: "Before Curvy Claire"

Part 3

Howard and I ‘dated’ for a couple of months - starting with the cinema that week, although I think we completely missed the film as we had our lips locked together for most of it - and we went for McDonalds and a KFC, after both of which we snogged each other’s faces off and had our hands down each other’s pants. Then one night we went ice skating, which was fantastic despite me being terrible at it, and I’d set it up so that I could take him home afterwards.

My parents were out all night, and I’d asked Donna to make herself scarce which she’d agreed to as long as I promised to behave myself. I’d even visited the local family planning clinic and been given a huge paper bag full of condoms. I was prepared, mentally and physically for sex, and I really wanted to do it, so that night as soon as we got through the door, I kissed him and dragged him to my bedroom.

It was the first time he’d been in my room, so he took a few minutes to look around and commented on the decoration and such, but I could tell he was just stalling - probably because he was nervous - so I told him to come over and feel how comfy the bed was. Howard sat next to me and bounced up and down a few times, saying it was lovely and soft and then I began to undo the buttons on my top and gave him the sexiest smile I could.

It worked; he smiled back at me, and started to undress himself. That was the first time I realised how hard it is for a man to undress sexily. It’s easy for us girls, but men often make a total hash of it, just like Howard did. He took his shirt off first, then his trousers so that he had his boxer shorts and socks on - which just isn’t a good look for a man, trust me. Even worse, he pulled his boxers off first, so he was stood there in just his socks while he watched me undo my bra then he even tried to follow me under the covers with them on. I stopped him and asked him to take them off, and then when we were finally snuggled up naked together under my big heavy duvet, I slipped my panties down and got on top of him.

We kissed, and then I reached down for his penis, to try and put it in me. I was already wet and horny but to my surprise, he wasn’t getting hard. I’d noticed that his dick was still soft when he’d taken his shorts down but I thought he’d get hard once we started kissing under the covers. However, he hadn’t, so I rolled off and played with him for a few minutes until finally I felt him starting to stiffen but then as I finally got him fully hard again, he began to push my head down again under the covers.

“Okay,” I said to him, “But don’t cum. I want you.”

“I won’t,” Howard promised, urging me downwards, “Please do it though.”

I threw the covers off us, so we were both totally bare and slid down the bed to suck him again. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy going down on him - I did, it felt really naughty and really rewarding again to hear him moan at how good it felt - but I really wanted to have sex too. I licked and sucked him for a while, but as he started to get more and more excited, I stopped and reached in the drawer beside my bed for a condom.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I unwrapped the condom, so I threw the empty silver foil packet at him in response. His eyes widened as he realised what it was, and then I began to tricky task of putting the rubber on him. I’d actually done this in school - in sex education, the teacher had shown us how to put a condom on a banana - but doing it in real life was much trickier. I managed to get the condom the right way around, then finally managed to unroll it down Howard’s length, and I looked at the completed and ready dick with pride.

“Fuck me,” I said, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs wantonly. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment but I was that horny I just didn’t care. Howard stared at my pussy for a moment, then rolled towards me, kissing me and feeling my breasts and finally, after what seemed like an age, he slid his body over me and began to clumsily try and point his dick into me.

I felt the end pushing against my labia, but it kept sliding up my slit and over my clit, which was throbbing, so I reached down and took hold of it to help him guide it in. But just as the end started to push against me, I felt it suddenly twitch and Howard groaned into my ear.

No way. He hadn’t, had he?

He had. “I came,” he sighed as he sagged against me. His cock did actually go inside me a little way but then it popped out and he rolled off, giggling to himself. I think Howard thought he’d fucked me, but in my mind, he definitely hadn’t. I certainly don’t count his dick going one inch inside me as losing my virginity. I have no idea whether or not I still had a hymen back then - probably not with doing my horse riding and being quite an active girl - but I don’t think he would have broken it even if I had. There certainly wasn’t any discomfort or blood.

I was so disappointed. “Is that it?” I blurted, rather bluntly perhaps, but I simply couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still quite breathless. “Can I do something to you?”

I pointed at his wilted penis. The full condom was hanging from it, which looked quite funny. “What are you going to do? That’s useless to me now.”

I was probably being quite bitchy, but I was angry now. Howard pulled the condom off and threw it on the floor, which made me yell at him - I didn’t want sperm all over my carpet! - but he told me to relax, and pushed me back as I started to sit up.

“Trust me,” he said, and I looked at him confused for a moment, before realising what he was going to do as he positioned himself between my legs, sliding down the bed and trailing several little kisses down my body until he kissed my mound. I’d trimmed down there, so my pubes were in a neat, light brown triangle, which he commented on by saying it looked better. Then I felt a slight sense of panic for a moment. What if my pussy smelled or tasted funny or something? I was certainly very wet, and I was about to stop him when his tongue touched my labia and then flicked up over my clitoris.

It felt like nothing I’d felt before. I’d been masturbating quite regularly, and knew how good clitoral stimulation felt but the warmth of his breath on my pussy and then the sensation of his lips and his tongue pushing between my folds was something completely new. I felt his fingers spread me open and then as his tongue began to lap against my clit, I gave in to the feeling and closed my eyes to let him do whatever he liked.

I lost all sense of time. I slipped into a fantasy world, imagining all sorts of dirty things being done to me, including Howard fucking me and inevitably I felt that throbbing feeling low in my groin, a soft ache, almost painful but intensely pleasurable, building and building until finally it exploded into an orgasm. My back arched upwards and my thighs locked on Howard’s head at first, until I realised then I let him go.

He looked up at me as I recovered from what was my best orgasm ever at that time, and I can still picture his face, grinning like a Cheshire cat with my pussy juices all over his mouth and chin. He touched my clit with his thumb, and I jerked away as it was painfully sensitive.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

“What do you think?” I laughed at him.

Howard hadn’t fucked me, but he’d made up for it with his tongue. All sense of regret at him cumming prematurely disappeared and all I could think of once he’d gone home was the feeling of his tongue exploring my pussy. When I got in bed that night, I couldn’t help but take my pyjama bottoms down and I played with myself until I came again, reliving the experience all over again in my imagination.

I don’t know why Howard and I never went any further than that. We hung around for a while, going on a couple of dates again - the cinema was our favourite thing to do together, but for some reason things never came together to give us the opportunity. When I had the house to myself, which wasn’t very often, he would be busy and vice versa. We saw each other most days, but there were always other people around, so we never did anything more than hang out and play with each other. I wanked him off one night in our local park, and then as we sat talking afterwards, he told me about this other girl who he fancied.

It was very strange because I didn’t feel angry and I didn’t feel betrayed. I really wasn’t that bothered at all and I realised that I didn’t have any feelings for him. It wasn’t even shock or surprise making me emotionally numb or anything like that. Howard and I were more like best friends who fooled around rather than boyfriend and girlfriend, and so after regaining my composure I asked him about her and even ended up giving him some advice on how to ask her out.

So that was the end of Howard and I as a relationship, although we stayed friends for quite a while afterwards, right up to me leaving school in fact, but we never so much as kissed or anything after that night. There weren’t any other boys I fancied or had my eye on at that particular time, so I decided to give up on losing my virginity with boys my own age, and instead began to wonder if I needed someone older and more mature. Someone who knew what he was doing and wouldn’t cum in a matter of minutes.

For a girl of that age with protective, caring parents and who didn’t have a huge social circle, it was difficult to meet older men of course, so it wasn’t until I left school and started studying my ‘A’ Levels at college, that I began to meet people. I wasn’t bothered about having a boyfriend during the period leading up to college. I was quite a responsible (boring) girl, I listened to my parents and the advice of my teachers, and concentrated on my studies and left school with ten GCSEs of a good grade, if not quite all A-stars like my sister had attained, but I was more than happy with my achievements, and it got me into the subjects at college which I wanted to study.

I took English Language, Geography, Music and Agricultural Studies, which was a nice eclectic mix and college was a fabulous experience for me. I had the choice of staying on at school in the sixth form, but I really wanted to study with a more varied pool of students and the school I was at didn’t do agriculture so I used that as an excuse to myself to get out of the All-Girls’ school (which I loved dearly but there were no men!), if I’m being honest.

I did well at college. I studied hard and got good results in all four subjects, but I never went on to university because I met my future husband during this period, and we got married the year I left college and he said he didn’t want me to leave Cheshire to study. He promised that he would look after me - we would buy a house together and settle down and raise a family and then if I wanted to go to university and pursue a career afterwards, he would fully support me and so that’s what happened.

As of now though - ten years later - I’ve never gone to university and while I wouldn’t mind working towards a degree one day, I am quite content with my life as it is. I know I’m not stupid - I don’t need letters after my name to prove it to anyone, do I?

I didn’t lose my virginity to my husband, he was my second lover. I finally managed to get rid of my virgin status during my first year at college. I was seventeen and a half, quite a late age to lose your virginity in today’s world, but I’d learned a valuable lesson during those early failure fumbles with Simon and Howard, and didn’t see the point in sleeping with a man just for the sake of ‘losing it.’ No, instead I would wait for the right man to come along. I wasn’t sure how I’d know he was the right man, but my college friends that I confided in told me that it would just happen when the time was right. I’d meet someone soon enough.

And I did. Mr Right came along during Christmas week in 1999. We were all gearing up for the biggest party in history - the Millennium New Year’s Eve - and there were parties everywhere to go to during the last week in December, indeed the last week of the 1900s - and being a typical student who liked a party, if not a heavy drinker, I intended to go to as many of them as I could. But it wasn’t a crazy student party that I met my first real lover at. Rather, it was a party organised by my father.

My dad was in the local Rotary Club and was also a Freemason, so he had a very varied social circle and knew a lot of the local business owners and their families. Over the years growing up, I had met quite a lot of them, so when I was towed along to one of his get-togethers I knew most of the people there, but this time there was a man I didn’t know but who father seemed keen to introduce me to.

“This is Colin,” I remember him saying, “He’s bought the old dairy...” Father continued on and on, telling me all about how Colin and his family were new to the area, and in particular about his son, who was of an age with me and very well to-do, but I was only half listening because Colin was the most handsome man I had seen for a long time.

He was much older than me, in his early fifties and so actually older than my father, but he had the most piercing, light blue-green eyes I had ever seen and when he caught me staring he gave me a small smile which actually made my heart skip a beat. I don’t know how many women have experienced that flutter when you meet a man who just has that ‘something’ about them that makes them instantly attractive and you feel yourself totally drawn to them, but those of you who have felt it will know what I’m talking about.

Colin was tall and broad, quite powerful looking and dressed in a light grey suit. I remember his shoes were very shiny brown brogues, as I found myself looking down because I was so embarrassed as he took my hand and kissed it.

“Nice to meet you,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice and that was it - I was in love! Well, not quite, but I was swept off my feet by him. Even though his hair was receding, and his face was quite hard-looking there was just something about him that blew me away.

“Hello,” I replied rather lamely. I think I even stuttered.

Colin went on to suggest that I should call around to their house sometime and meet Dean, his son who was looking to make friends. We could drive in to Chester and go to the cinema or something. It was a blatant set-up to try and get us on a date, and I found myself stammering that it sounded like a good idea, just getting more and more embarrassed in the presence of such a beautiful man, and when Colin made his excuses to ‘go and mingle’ I felt a mixture of both disappointment at him leaving me and yet relief at the same time.

“Not like you to be so shy,” I recall father saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve met Dean and he’s a lovely lad.”

I think I nodded and said something back, but all I could think about was the man who was now talking to a tall, elegant brunette at the other end of the room from us. I felt the first twinge of jealousy, despite only having met him once a few minutes ago.

The party was a fun one, with plenty of alcohol to go around, and I made sure I got more than my fair share so with the combination of the music and the general party atmosphere, I was in a fun and flirty mood which is why when Colin asked me if I’d like to join him for a cigarette outside, I didn’t hesitate.

It was terribly cold, I remember being able to see my breath, and I had left my coat hung up inside, and was only wearing a short-sleeved blouse and skirt, so as we began chatting while sharing a cigarette (I was a social smoker at the time) Colin suggested we go sit in his car instead.

His ‘car’ was an impressive, gorgeous, large, black four-wheel drive and as soon as we sat in there, he turned the heating and the music on and turned to look at me.

“Claire, can I ask you a question?” he asked and I nodded after taking a drag on the cigarette. “How the hell is a beautiful young woman like you single?”

My heart quickened a little as I replied, “I don’t know. I’m hardly gorgeous.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at you - pretty, blonde, big boobs, those legs...” I remember he was gesturing with his hand, almost touching me and as he continued to flatter me and express his disbelief that I didn’t have a boyfriend or a queue of boys wanting to date me, I chuckled, enjoying the attention from such a handsome, older man.

“If I was thirty years younger, I’d be begging you for a date every day until you gave in,” he continued, “Wooing you with flowers, chocolates or whatever it took.”

“Were you a bit of a charmer when you were younger?” I asked and Colin smiled at me and told me that he used to be a real ladies man as a young man, and that he’d had a weakness where pretty girls were concerned. Then he leaned in close and confessed, “I still do.”

I recall laughing slightly nervously because his hand was resting on my knee, and he pulled away suddenly, apologizing if he was making me feel uncomfortable. I told him it was fine but he carried on saying sorry, explaining that he found me incredibly attractive and it had been so long since he’d been this close to someone as sexy as me.

Looking back now, it’s so obvious that it was a blatant line, and that the sob story he poured on me about his wife being disinterested in sex was a cleverly concocted routine to get a girl in bed, but I was a seventeen year old girl, and quite a naive one at that, with a belly full of alcohol and sitting in an incredibly handsome and charismatic man’s flashy car, so I had no chance really.

I told him I thought he was lovely, and rambled on to him about how he should leave his wife and find a nice girl who would appreciate him and when he said he was too old, I responded exactly how he probably intended, by saying that he didn’t look his age and that I was quite sure he could have any girl he chose.

I was playing right into his trap, and he sprang it by saying, ‘Prove it then,’ and, ‘What if I chose you?’ and like the silly drunk teenager I was, I leaned in and kissed him. Colin broke the kiss after a while, and pointed out that it probably wouldn’t go down well if my father saw us, and suggested we go for a drive somewhere, so I skipped into the house, collected my coat and told my Daddy that I was heading home early because I’d got a headache before rejoining Colin and heading out into the Cheshire countryside with him.

I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t quite so stupid that I didn’t know what I was getting into, or where this was leading, but I had come this far, and the combination of alcohol and Colin’s dizzying presence had me incredibly horny and by the time we pulled up in a dark country car park my heart was racing not with nerves, but with anticipation.

I remember Colin leaning in to kiss me again, complimenting me on how good a kisser I was, and feeling his hand sliding up onto my breast, then asking me what bra size I was. I was 36D at the time, which he found quite amazing for a seventeen year old and he asked if they were real.

“Of course they’re real,” I laughed, “I’m only seventeen!” and then he asked if it was too much to ask for him to see them. He kept up his lines, saying how his wife was small breasted and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a fuller bust except for in the newspaper, and I fell for it, not objecting as he unbuttoned my top all the way down, and then gazed at my boobs in my bra.

That was when I started getting quite horny, and I knew right then that I wasn’t going to stop him doing anything he wanted. That might have the been the first time I ever felt submissive with a man, I’m not sure, but I didn’t stop him as he lifted the bra up and over my breasts, exposing them to him fully. I reached around my back to take the bra off altogether for him as he first touched them, then cupped and squeezed them with both hands, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples which were incredibly sensitive back then.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Colin asked after another long, passionate kiss. “How many boys have you slept with?”

I don’t really know why I lied and said, “A few,” or why when he pressed me on how many, I told him that I’d been with four boys, I guess it was because I felt foolish at being a virgin at seventeen. It was lucky that I didn’t tell the truth though because he smiled and said, “Good. I couldn’t have done this if you were a virgin.”

That prompted a moment of panic. What if he could somehow tell that I was a virgin? I knew my hymen had broken, but what if he could somehow tell in other ways? Surely, Colin had been with more than his fair share of women in his past, so he would recognise an inexperienced girl, wouldn’t he?

I didn’t get a lot of time to worry because he started kissing me again, and now his hand moved back down to my leg, sliding up my thigh until it rested on the outside of my knickers. I knew I was wet down there, and I felt another moment of worry that he would laugh or something but of course he didn’t. His fingers expertly pulled my panties to one side, and then his finger went inside me.

I don’t know how long he kissed and fingered me for, or exactly when my hand roamed to the front of his trousers, but I know I was rubbing the outline of his hard penis when he finally stopped kissing me and asked me if I’d ever sucked a man.

“Yes,” I said truthfully this time, but then followed it up with a lie by saying, “Lots of men.”

“Ah,” he said, unbuckling his trousers, “You like giving blowjobs?”

“I love it,” I said. What was I thinking? I’d only ever sucked one boy off, and only done it to him twice. I suppose I was just trying to impress Colin but I realised I’d got myself into a bit of a situation when he eased his trousers and shorts down, to reveal a very hard and thick cock. It was probably only average in length, but it was just the fourth one I’d seen and I still wasn’t sure what ‘average’ was so it seemed quite daunting as I lowered my head down and began to kiss the end.

Colin had eased the seats back, so I could make myself comfortable and I began to explore his cock with my tongue, trying to remember and copy the techniques I’d seen pornstars do on the internet, and the older man seemed to be enjoying it, putting his hand in my hair and pushing me deeper onto him. I think I gagged a couple of times, but I daren’t stop, or he’d see me for the inexperienced kid that I was.

His arm reached behind across to play with my pussy while I gave him the best blowjob I could, and he literally had me almost on the edge of orgasm by the time, he finally pushed me onto my back and stripped my knickers down and off my feet.

‘This is it,’ I realised as he positioned himself between my legs, but I didn’t have any time for nerves. One second his cock was slipping up and down between my labia, then the next he just shoved it in. One smooth movement, and then he was deep inside me. I didn’t even get the chance to savour the moment, he put his hands beneath my legs, lifting them and spreading them and then beginning to fuck me right there in the passenger seat.

It was so intense, the feeling of his cock penetrating me, the weight of him above me, his kisses on my neck and the sound of his breathing in my ear and of the impact of our bodies. A steady slap, slap, slap and the slightly embarrassing wet sounds of my pussy as he fucked me.

I was lost in the moment. I don’t know how long it lasted for, I only remember noticing the lights of a car as it went past but I didn’t care and then Colin made me climb into the back so I could get onto all fours for him. I felt very exposed, and he didn’t help by spending several minutes playing with my throbbing pussy from behind, commenting on my ‘sexy arse’ and how great my tits looked hanging down. All I could think about was how fat and wobbly my bottom probably looked and that my breasts more closely resembled udders in this position, but just as I was starting to feel more uncomfortable than horny, Colin shoved his hard dick back inside me, and began to have fast, hard sex with me from behind.

I wasn’t sure if I was enjoying the rough treatment I was getting. He switched between pulling my hair to pushing my face down into the seat as he approached his climax, talking dirty the whole time, but while my mind was undecided, my body was definitely liking it. My clit felt like it was going to explode, and I couldn’t help but reach underneath and within just a minute of rubbing myself, I came loudly.

Colin was calling me filthy names while he fucked me, and my shuddering orgasm only served to make his vulgarities even more profane, but for some reason I didn’t care, in fact it turned me on even more and I think I was actually pushing back on to him during the last couple of minutes until he finally pushed deep into me and I felt him pulsing inside.

“No,” I said suddenly and urgently, and tried to push him away, but it was too late. I felt the cool stickiness of his sperm inside me, dribbling out as I sat up in a panic. “I’m not on the pill,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I suddenly felt sober from the shock of what I’d just done. How could I be so stupid?

“You are kidding me?” Colin said, equally shocked, then he began to apologize for making assumptions but I couldn’t blame him. I’d made out that I was promiscuous and I’d never asked him to use a condom or anything, so of course what else was he to think other than I must be on the pill?

He kissed me and said that I’d be okay. Even though he’d cum in me, the chances of me getting pregnant were slim - and that I shouldn’t worry. He took me home, and I pretended to be fine but as soon as I got to my bedroom, I threw myself on the bed and cried myself to sleep.

The following month was hell, waiting for my period to come. I did several pregnancy tests, which all came back negative but I was terrified until finally at the end of January, I got my period and then the world was all okay once more. I’d learned a valuable lesson though, and I never made such a silly mistake ever again.

The horrible scare wasn’t a nice thing to go through at all, but it hadn’t completely ruined my first time. Even through the stress and worry, I would quite often think of that night in the car, the way he fucked me so roughly, the smell of the sex, the physicality of him and how strong he was. I masturbated numerous times at night in bed, imagining him behind me and the feeling of his cock inside me, using me like the slut that he thought I was.

Colin phoned me regularly, concerned about me, and we met up for a coffee a couple of times, and I even went on a date with his son a couple of weeks after Christmas, who was a nice young man, but it was a total disaster because all I could think of was that I might be pregnant, with his brother or sister growing inside me.

Once a very-relieved Colin found out I wasn’t pregnant, he stopped calling me for a little while, but out-of-the-blue in the middle of February, just before my father’s birthday, he arrived at my front door. He had a card for Daddy but I think that was just an excuse, because once I told him that Daddy wasn’t home, he asked if I’d mind a quick chat, and thinking it was about his son, or something like that, I invited him in and made him a coffee.

Again, in hindsight it is quite obvious that he’d set this up. He didn’t waste any time in getting to the point. He told me that he was sorry he’d put me through the agony of wondering if I was pregnant, but said that he’d really enjoyed that night in the car and he would do anything if he could see me again sometime. He promised to be discreet. He didn’t want a relationship, just some fun, and when I said I wasn’t sure, he even said that he would treat me right and if there was anything I wanted from him, he would buy it for me. He said he would pay for driving lessons, even get me a car. He had lots of money, and would enjoy spending it on me, if I was willing to be his ‘special friend.’

I was shocked and had no idea how to respond to what amounted to being offered money for sex. I didn’t want to offend him, so I told him I would think about it, and to be fair to Colin, he didn’t pressure me at all. He finished his coffee and told me to call him and let him know either way. If I didn’t want to see him again, he totally understood, and he hoped I wouldn’t tell anyone.

The money never tempted me because I’d never been without money. It was something I’d always taken for granted with such a gracious and generous father, but for some reason the fact that someone (especially such a good-looking man as Colin) wanted me so much as to actually buy me gifts caught me off-guard. It was hugely ego-boosting that he must have enjoyed that night so much that he wanted to do it again, and it had only been my first time. I wondered if that meant I was good in bed? I hadn’t even known what I was doing that night. With practice, I’d get even better, right?

But still, I wasn’t going to sleep with someone just for the sake of it. The night with Colin had just happened. The alcohol and the party season spirit had got to me, and I’d got carried away with myself. I’d very nearly screwed my entire life up.

So why, one lonely and boring night just a month or so later, did I pick up my mobile phone and flick through the contacts list to Colin’s number, and press the call button?

To be continued...

A rare hello!

Hi everyone!

Yes, I am alive still and I posted a picture on my Tumblr site to prove it!

I've just replied to as many emails as I can, while I have time, so apologies to you all for the delay. My sister's illness has returned and I have numerous other problems at home at the moment which are taking up most of my spare time, but I have been doing a little writing and having some fun, which I will get around to updating you all on as soon as possible.

Okay, I'm posting chapter 3 of my story next - I hope you all enjoy it!

Lots and lots of love to you all,

xxxxx

Curvy Claire

From My Diaries #2 - "Before Curvy Claire: Part 2"

Finally - Part 2 of my new story... Enjoy!

From My Diaries #2 - "Before Curvy Claire"

Part 2

I’ve always loved horses, and with growing up in a farming family, I was familiar with them from a very young age. Daddy wasn’t a breeder or a trainer, but we had a large L-shaped field on the back of the farm that wasn’t in use because it needed flattening to make it suitable for farming and so instead, he invested in some stables and converted them into a paddock for people to house their horses.

My first ever paid job was mucking out and feeding the ponies and at quite a young age, I expressed an interest in riding. Daddy paid for lessons for his Princess, of course, and I never looked back. I wasn’t quite brave enough for racing or even jumping, but I loved eventing and dressage events and when I was old enough Daddy got me my first horse, a beautiful dun gelding that I promptly named Biscuit. For a long time, Biscuit was my world, but I won’t bore you with my love for horses.

Daddy closed his paddocks when I went to secondary school and we relocated Biscuit and the other horses to another stable which was just a bike ride away. I spent a lot of time between being twelve to sixteen at the stables, helping out for a small amount of money and looking after Biscuit, and it was there that I met Simon and Howard.

Simon was my fantasy boy. He was tall, dark and handsome, a couple of years older than me and I remember thinking he was so mature and totally dreamy. Howard was his best friend who worked there with him at the weekends. He wasn’t quite so dishy, in fact he wasn’t really that attractive at all as I remember (sorry if you’re reading this Howard) but he had something about him. Unlike the friendly and gentlemanly Simon, Howard was sullen and sometimes moody and I don’t know whether it was the ‘Edward Cullen/Mr Darcy’ effect or what it was, but I did find myself something thinking about him too.

If you’ve ever been involved with horses or worked at a stable, you will know that it is far from a glamorous job. I wasn’t a girl that wore a lot of make-up anyway back then, in fact despite having a very womanly figure, I was still quite tomboyish in many ways, but I found myself beginning to dress a little more daringly that what was really appropriate for the tasks I was doing, and making more of an effort with my hair and make-up, just to try and get the two boys’ attention.

It worked. Simon and Howard both started regularly asking me when I was next going to be at the stables, and then they would just happen to be there the same days as me. We got to be friends, but of course I wanted it to be more, and I flirted with them outrageously, having not yet mastered the subtle art of seduction which a woman learns as she gets older. I would quite often ‘accidentally’ leave my top unbuttoned ridiculously low, and wear skirts which was ridiculous in such an environment, but I loved the attention such actions attracted, especially as I didn’t really have any other boys in my life with going to an all-girls’ school.

It was booze again that instigated things - this time it was cheap bottles of Lambrusco rather than white cider, but it had the same effect on me when the boys invited me to a party at Simon’s house one summer evening. The ‘party’ turned out to be just the three of us and Simon’s younger brother, who was roughly the same age as me. We hung out in his back garden - Simon’s parents were away on holiday - then listened to some music, ate some horrible barbecued food as I remember, and drank copious amounts of Lambrusco and beer.

Some of you might be thinking, ‘Weren’t you a bit scared?’ or ‘Are you stupid?’ because it’s obvious what the boys were after, but you have to understand that I knew the boys quite well and trusted them. Perhaps I was naive, but I was always quite desperate to impress and if I’m honest with myself, I really wanted to ‘get off’ with one of them, especially the lovely Simon.

My parents knew where I was, and called me during the evening to make sure I was all right. Daddy told me to be a good girl, he knew the boys quite well too - in fact, he was quite good friends with his father - although he probably wouldn’t have been quite as relaxed if I had told him the truth that I was on my own with them, rather than the lie I spun about it being a party and Sarah and some of my other friends being there with me.

Once Simon had managed to dispatch his little brother to bed, the two boys asked me if I wanted to watch a blue movie, and somehow took my quite non-committal response to be one of eagerness, with the speed that they rustled through some old VHS tapes until they found a suitably dirty one. I began to feel a little uncomfortable, watching a woman on all fours being taken by a man at each end - a new concept for me back then - although the porno film did get me a little bit horny at first, I soon tired of it, a lot quicker than the boys did, both of whom were sitting there with tented jeans. They ended up either side of me on the sofa, and Simon put his arm around my shoulder, which all added together to make me feel a bit nervous.

However, I was slightly excited and giddy too and if it wasn’t for the booze I would probably have run a mile but I didn’t. Simon began to kiss my neck and whisper how gorgeous he thought I was into my ear. It was weird for all this to be going on with Howard sitting on the other side of me, so I didn’t respond straight away and when he put his hand on my bare thigh (I was wearing a short skirt) I pushed his hand away instinctively.

He sat up straight, and I had this horrible conflicting moment where I both didn’t want anything to happen too fast, yet I also didn’t want to offend and lose the chances of what I did want - a bit of a naughty kiss and a sexy cuddle. So, I reacted by putting my arm around his neck and drawing him into a kiss. His face went from one of dismay and disappointment to one of pleasant surprise in an instant, and the second time his hand went on my thigh I didn’t move it.

He didn’t go straight for the kill - his hand just rubbed up and down my thigh a few times, slipping under my skirt without ever going too far, but as we ‘made out’ it eventually moved upwards, hesitatingly stroking across my breasts and then eventually cupping and squeezing one. Now I was really starting to get excited and I whispered into his ear that I wished Howard would go away so we could lie down. He stopped kissing me as we looked at each other for a moment, probably while he decided what to do, then he took me by the hand and led me upstairs.

I let him take me into his bedroom, which I remember was full of football posters and the like - he was a Liverpool fan - and after we barricaded the door shut with a chair and a box, we started kissing on the bed. How exciting is it when you’re that age, to be kissing and ‘fooling around?’ I remember the radio was playing “I’ll Be Missing You,” by Puff Daddy and Faith Evans as he lifted my top up and pulled my bra down. It was the first time that someone other than Toby had seen my breasts and I was so incredibly turned on that I actually pulled his head down for him to suck my nipples.

His hand went under my skirt and pulled down my knickers and my hands were rubbing the front of his jeans and after his fingers had found my wet pussy hole and fingered me for a few heart-racing moments, he helped me to undo his belt and zipper and it was then that I felt my first cock in my hand. He yanked his trousers and boxer shorts down and I just grabbed it and started to stroke it - he must have thought I was a total slut, I was that eager!

He wasn’t as good at playing with my pussy as Sarah had been, he didn’t touch my clit, instead he just finger fucked me as fast as he could, with first one, then two fingers, but to be fair I probably wasn’t giving him the best hand job ever either. I was just tugging on it, but it was my first time doing it, so I shouldn’t be too hard on the young Claire, I suppose.

It was the first penis I’d seen since Toby’s and I remember thinking it was slightly bigger and less hairy. I had fun pulling the skin back and seeing how shiny and slightly wet the end of his cock was. I felt his balls too, something I’d never done with Toby. I thought they felt very strange at the time. Simon was getting incredibly horny, and was pumping his hips in time to my hand stroking his cock, like he was fucking my hand, and seeing how aroused he was getting only served to make me more turned on too, especially with his fingers working my pussy.

As drunk and as turned on as I was, when he tried to get on top of me to fuck me, I stopped him and asked him if he’d got a ‘rubber Johnny.’ The look of disappointment on his face was crushing. I really, really wanted him right then - it was all so perfect - but naive as I might have been, I wasn’t stupid. My parents and my sister had all given me the talk on being sensible when the time came, and as nice a boy as Simon was, I wasn’t going to risk catching something or getting pregnant.

Simon got a little bit upset, as boys do when they’re denied at the last minute, but luckily his little brother came to my rescue by banging on the door and shouting, ‘I know what you’re doing in there!’ in the most annoying voice possible. Simon and I got dressed rapidly and headed outside where Simon beat the hell out of his kid brother, while I made my excuses to go home.

Despite the night ending in a bit of a disaster, I’d had the most brilliant time, and like the silly young girl I was back then, I thought he and I were an item. All sorts of crazy romantic notions went through my head over the next few days, until on my way to my friend’s house the following week, I saw Simon standing at the bus stop with another girl. As I walked over to say hello, they started kissing and I felt my heart break for the first time.

Isn’t it funny how life at that age is so full of extreme feelings? The most intense of loves, and the bitterest of disappointments. Everything is so magnified - you’re feeling emotions for the first time, and they either totally thrill, or they completely crush you.

Simon even looked at me, but didn’t break the kiss, in fact his eyes lingered on me and when I felt my own eyes brimming with tears, I turned and walked away. I’d been on the way to see one of my friends, but for some reason I went instead to the stables.

When I got there, I went and consoled myself by giving Biscuit a brush and filling his trough with fresh water and food and then as fate would have it, I saw Howard sweeping the yard and went out to speak to him.

He could tell I was upset and once he’d done, he asked me if I wanted to go back to his mum’s house for a drink and a chat about it, an offer which I gratefully accepted. His parents were lovely, they made me a cup of tea and a sandwich while I phoned mother to tell her where I was, and once we’d eaten, we went up to Howard’s room where I poured my heart out to him about how Simon, and how betrayed and heartbroken I felt.

Howard was normally the quieter of the two, and because he was normally quite unapproachable and nowhere near as charismatic or friendly as his best friend, I didn’t expect him to be so sensitive but he was. However, I was even more surprised when he quietly told me that he’d gotten really jealous when Simon had bragged about what he’d done with me.

I was angry. Simon had told him? I had to know exactly what had been said, so I asked a quite embarrassed Howard to tell me what he’d bragged about. That was a little insensitive of me, as Howard was basically trying to tell me how much he liked me, but I was fuming at that particular moment. He didn’t want to say, but I insisted and eventually he told me that Simon had boasted of playing with and sucking my ‘big tits’ and that he’d fingered my ‘hairy pussy.’ I cringed slightly at that, but told him to continue and with burning cheeks Howard said that Simon had gone on to say that I’d wanked him off and that he could have fucked me if he’d wanted to, but his little brother had interrupted them and spoiled it.

But then Simon had got off with another girl that he’d fancied for ages, and who was slimmer and prettier than me. He’d even told some of the other lads that he was friendly with that I was now fair game and that they should ‘give me a try.’

I was devastated at that, and Howard began to apologise, saying he shouldn’t have told me - but I thanked him for being honest. He was upset as well and I felt I should say sorry too, for ignoring him. If I’d known what a dick Simon was and that Howard was as nice as he was, I would have gone out with him instead.

I remember realising that I was crying. I don’t know when the tears had started coming - I only knew when Howard reached up and wiped them away. He was staring at me, and it was one of those moments that just happen. Howard leaned in and kissed me and before I knew what was happening, I was kissing him back passionately. We went from kissing to dry humping on the bed, and then I took the initiative and took my t-shirt off. Howard’s eyes went as big as dinner plates when he saw my boobs in my bra. He was already hard, I could feel it rubbing against me through his trousers, but I bet he got even harder. His hands went to my breasts, squeezing them enthusiastically but he didn’t make any attempt to take my bra off.

I’d got trousers on that day and I remember wanting to be really naughty and because he didn’t make any moves at all to progress things, I popped the button and pulled my zipper down and eventually he took the hint, sliding a hand slowly down my belly and into my panties. I shrugged my knickers and trousers down to give him better access to finger me and then I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra for him.

This was it; I was going to lose my virginity. I decided there and then that even if he didn’t have a condom, which he most likely didn’t, I was going to let him have me. Even if it was just to get back at Simon, I didn’t care. I just wanted someone to want me, and Howard obviously did.

After several more minutes of frantic kissing and groping, I was more or less naked, in only my socks basically, so I pulled his shirt off over his head, then undid his trousers and pulled his shorts and trousers down. Of course, Howard was already rock hard, and I remember thinking his dick was huge at the time - it was certainly much bigger than Simon’s and Toby’s, and had very little hair around it at all. I grabbed the shaft and started stroking it, then he pushed my head gently downwards and at first I wondered what the hell he was doing, then it sank in that he wanted me to suck it.

I was so scared, but I took a deep breath and moved so that his cock was right in front of my face. His penis was very hard and felt hot in my hand as I pulled the skin right back and first kissed and then licked the end tentatively. It didn’t smell or taste of anything in particular, I don’t know quite what I expected, but it wasn’t unpleasant at all, so I put my lips over the end and began to slowly suck on it, moving more of it into my mouth as I dared, nervous I might choke on it if I went too fast.

The end was so smooth as I ran my tongue over it, and It felt so wonderful when Howard began to moan and started to move his hips a little. It seemed to grow in my mouth, getting even harder and it was so rewarding to know that I was doing it right - he was obviously enjoying it - so I began to suck it a bit more confidently, trying to remember how I’d seen women do it in the porn videos I’d seen. Howard’s hand stroked the back of my head, then suddenly he announced that I should move - fast - and I realised he was going to ejaculate. Quick as a shot I pulled away and just in time, because a thick stream of white fluid jetted out, landing all over my hand and his thigh.

I was disappointed that he’d finished already - but I also felt a huge thrill at having made a man cum. It was almost like a feeling of pride in myself. I was so happy I felt like I was going to burst! Howard was embarrassed at having cum so soon and apologised for it, but I kissed him and told him it was fine. He cleaned up and we kissed again for a little while before I made my excuses to leave, but not before we made plans to go on a ‘date’ soon. The cinema - on the coming Friday. I couldn’t wait! The kiss at the doorstep as I left was the tenderest, loveliest thing that I’d ever known.

I went home, realising that I’d got a boyfriend. My first boyfriend!

Part 3 following soon... xxx Claire

It's been a while...

So how is everyone?

I've had a hectic couple of months... first of all, my sister's illness took me out of the blogosphere for a while, then as that began to work itself out and the demands on me became a little less, the school holidays took over!

My wonderful hubby took us to several lovely places, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but I was glad when the kids did go back to school, and hubby jetted off to work -  and I managed to have some 'me' time but then I got hijacked again by the shop needing me and a close friend having a bit of a crisis.

Now, hopefully, those things are also calming down and something approaching normality might just be returning!

We'll see, I don't want to speak too soon!

To see if you've missed me at all, here is a little photo and also a promise to finally continue my latest story - 'Before I Became A Slut,' - it just needs a little editing and then I can post it.

Enjoy the photo, and write to me to say hi!

Fifty Shades of Oh, Goodness!

Sorry for being absent! Blame E.L. James.

Girls, if you haven't read them already, read the 'Fifty Shades' trilogy. I haven't done anything for the past two weeks but read. And masturbate. A lot.

Christian Grey is a character of pure genius. How much did I want to be Anastasia in those books?

And now they're turning it into a film with Angelina Jolie directing? I really don't know who I'd want to play Christian. It can only be a let down I think?

Ideas for casting on both Christian and Anastasia? My pick would be Ryan Gosling and Jennifer Lawrence. 

In the meantime, I have done a little bit of writing on my story, which I'll try and post next!

Now, what should I read next? Fifty Shades re-read...?

xxx Claire

Back to Blogging

Hi everyone, how are we all?

Hope everybody is enjoying the lovely sunshine. I certainly am, sitting right now in my garden with a drink of cranberry juice, ice and a slice of lemon while reading Fifty Shades of Grey! Has anyone else read it? I'm quite intrigued as to what all the fuss is about!

I have lots to start telling everyone about. Some of you who email me on a regular basis will know, but I've been quite naughty lately, seeing all of my boys over the last fortnight, which has been great to catch up and get back to enjoying myself after all the stress of helping look after my poorly sister, who is still receiving treatment for her breast cancer but fingers crossed, is through the most dangerous part. The prognosis looks excellent for her, so thank you to everyone who emailed me or messaged me through Twitter with your kind words and support.

My book is coming along well, and with luck I will post the next part of my story later today for you all to read.

Also, in answer to a few people's questions - Yes, Facebook have removed me once again. In due course, I will try one final time to keep a page on there, but I think Facebook just have a grudge against me or something!

Right, I'm going to read a little, drink a little, enjoy watching my cute young nanny flirt with the young man who is currently cleaning my patio and then I may have a spot of lunch.

Life is hard :-)

xxx Claire

A new name for Curvy Claire

Hi guys, I've been made aware of another Curvy Claire in the UK, who has been around for years, and so I've decided to come up with a slightly different name for myself online. Any suggestions? I want something relevant, and with my name Claire in it, so people know who I am. The other Curvy Claire hasn't objected, but I think it's probably in both best interests if it's made clear that we are obviously different people! I did spend a bit of time looking at her website, she has some very interesting videos and content, but she's more of porn star/escort than me, I'm nowhere near as adventurous or as bold as she is. Respect to her though! xxx Claire

Conquering the interwebs!

Just thought I'd update you with all my new contact details, as I'm popping up on lots of different places on the interweb these days!

You can email me through here, or direct to poshslut@gmail.com

You can find me on Adultwork - http://refer.adultwork.com/?R=1462051&T=1462051

I'm on Twitter - www.twitter.com/CurvyClaire

I'm on Google+ - Add me by clicking https://profiles.google.com/u/0/104661362934566104964

I'm on Tumblr - curvyclaire.tumblr.com

And you can ask me questions on Formspring - www.formspring.me/curvyclaire

I look forward to meeting you via any of the above,

xxx
Claire

Back on Facebook

They rather rudely removed my page last time, with no forewarning, so I am reluctant to try again but here goes! Don't expect too much from the site, as I don't want to get kicked off, but please 'Like' me if you would!

http://www.facebook.com/curvyclairesconfessions

A full blog to come soon!

xxx

Claire

formspring.me

Ask me questions about sex http://www.formspring.me/CurvyClaire

Please support me!

Hi everyone!

Some new revisions to my blog to note, if you haven't noticed them already. Minor changes include my Google+ page link, plus a button to +1 my page, to get me more visitors and followers, hopefully. Also, I've added a button to add share my blog on your Facebook and Twitter pages, plus a small gadget with my most recent Twitter updates. I do love Twitter, and I have some awesome followers! There's a search box too, which I thought might be helpful for some people.

Most importantly, I've added a 'Support My Blog' page. I'm not here to make money, but I would like to raise a little money to do two things; (1) to literally support my internet presence better - I want to have some professional photographs done, and also want to buy my own domain name and get a better site to start off with and then take it from there, and (2) to support my favourite charity, Cancer Support as some of you may know, my family has been struck with the disease twice now and it's something I feel strongly about, so at least half of everything my sites generate will go towards that.

In return for anyone supporting me for more than £1, I am happy to send you an exclusive photo or do a web chat if I have the time, and for people supporting me for substantial amounts, I might even send you a little something through the post. I'm thinking hard on that - we'll see what suggestions I get :-)

Love to you all, the next part of my story is coming soon - and oh yes! there are some new naughty photos available on my Adultwork but if you're not a member on there, you can donate to me and I will email them instead!

xxx

Curvy Claire

My new story - at last!

Hey everyone, sorry I've been quiet but this is why! My second story, drawn from my diaries. Part 1 is here in it's entirety - parts 2, 3 and 4 to come - email me if you want to read them in advance of them being posted.

Hope you enjoy it - feedback always appreciated. I hope you're all keeping well, enjoy the photo at the end of the story :-)

xxx Claire

All work copyright © Claire Brighton 2012

From My Diaries

2) Before Curvy Claire

(Part 1)

In my first ‘Diary entry’ on here, I detailed how my ‘fall to the dark side’ began, and how I first cheated on my husband, Paul. That was a turning point in my life, and one from which I never looked back.

Until now.

It was interesting to go through my old diaries last year. I read so much in there which made me smile, and so many things which also made me sad. It’s almost like I was a totally different person back when I was young. I suppose everyone is the same. You almost mourn for the child you used to be; when you were innocent and you had all of your life in front of you. If only I knew what lay in front of me - I’d have done things differently. Or would I?

I can’t really be unhappy at where I am in life. There are so many people who lead such disadvantaged lives. I’ve been very, very lucky and I still am an exceptionally blessed person. I’m not short of money. I have a husband that loves me. Two wonderful children. And more sex than the average person has in a lifetime. Who am I to complain?

The only little things I would change about my past would be my attitude to sex. I wish I’d been more adventurous earlier. It took me until I was 2004, when I was 22 years old, to discover how much fun sex really could be. So many people discover it earlier on, and sometimes I wonder how much I missed out on and wish I could turn the clock back. I see photos and hear stories about wild holidays that girls have with their friends. About sleeping around with boys in college or university - going to wild parties and experimenting with drugs and doing crazy things.

I never did any of that. Can you tell me - have I missed out?

It doesn’t pain me too much - I’ve more than made up for it since! I think I’ve slept with over fifty men since first cheating on Paul eight years ago, which averages at between six and seven men a year, although to be honest most of those men were in the four years from 2004-2008, when I couldn’t help but sleep with any nice man who showed an interest. Since then I’ve settled into a routine of regular ‘special friends’ who I see regularly rather than one-off encounters.

But that is nearer the now - I’ll write what happened after I became Curvy Claire in a later story. Right now, I want to go backwards. Right back. To the beginning. Here is my autobiography, if a shortened version. Hopefully, it will help you get to know me.

I was born in the middle of May, back in 1982, which yes, at the time of writing, makes me thirty very soon! Perhaps approaching that scary milestone is what’s making me look back, I don’t know.

I was born in Chester in the UK, a prosperous area compared to some, and I had a wonderful start in life as my mother and father loved me dearly, and I had a very caring childhood. My father is called Charles, but everyone calls him Charlie, and he was and still is one of the nicest men you could ever meet. My mother was Anna, and again she was a very sweet, affectionate person who I have nothing but the fondest memories of.

My father, my elder sister, Donna, who is two years older than me, and I were devastated when we lost my mother to breast cancer after a short and brutal fight against the disease. She was only forty-five and she died just a month before my wedding, which she’d fought desperately to stay alive to see. A sad memory, but I prefer to remember her as the fun, loving woman that she was.

It feels a little weird to write like this about her, almost disrespectful, but I often wonder if my mother is where I get my high sex drive from. My father only slept with one woman besides my mother, and she was his previous wife. He never had any girlfriends before that, and he has never slept with anyone or had a real relationship with any women since my mother died ten years ago. He is quite open about sex, he always has been, he’s not a shy or prudish man, but he believes very much in relationships and marriage and if he knew just what I was like, I think he would be quite upset.

My sister takes after him, she has slept with a small number of men - I won’t disclose how many, it’s not my place to - but every one of them has been in a serious relationship. She is married now, with three children and has a fabulous marriage by all accounts. She is very much a career person and while she enjoys sex as much as the next person, she doesn’t display the appetite for it which I have.

My father’s first marriage produced a boy, my step-brother Toby, who is four years older than me. Daddy divorced his ex-wife when he found out she was cheating on him, and that she’d fallen pregnant to the man she was having a fling with. That man disappeared as soon as Daddy confronted him about his affair, and Toby never met his real father. Despite my father divorcing however, he felt guilty about leaving his ex-wife pregnant and with no-one to turn to, and although he met my mother soon afterwards and married her - he did keep in touch with his ex-wife (with mother’s blessing) and helped raise Toby the best he could, as a sort of step-son.

Quite often, as a teenager in the holidays, we would go and stay with Daddy’s other family. Daddy wasn’t fucking Jane (his ex-wife,) I’m very sure of that, but they always stayed friends, and Toby was very much seen as my brother. We would always be at each other’s birthday parties, and shared Christmases together. You might think it weird, but it felt right at the time, and it worked for us, so everything was good.

One thing I should perhaps make a note of here, as I have mentioned before - is that I speak very well. This isn’t necessarily because I am ‘posh’ as many people like to believe - rather, I was born with a slight lisp and a short tongue, which my parents sorted by sending me for elocution lessons for six years until I learned to speak properly and all traces of the lisp had gone. I was lucky enough to be put in to private education, and even though the area and the school were very well-to-do with children from some very wealthy families, I was still poked fun at for speaking the way I did. By the time I moved up to ‘big school’ though, I was simply known as ‘Posh Claire’ and the girls (it was an all-girls’ school) accepted me for that.

With regards to sex, I was very naive. I did sex education at school, but right up to then I had never seen as much as a porn film or even a naked man. I’d seen mother naked, but never father - he was very private and careful. That changed when I was fourteen but I’ll come to that shortly.

The first cock I ever saw was my step-brother’s. I know that seems wrong, but it’s what happened. We were kids - he was sixteen and I was twelve, so neither of us really knew what we were doing was wrong. We weren’t blood related, so it seemed fine. I would think it’s probably quite common, but I guess not everyone goes around spilling the beans on their early sexual experiences, unlike I’m doing now, so you just don’t hear about it.

My breasts started growing when I was eleven, and I got my first period at roughly the same time. I remember how painful my sprouting boobs were, though I was the proudest girl in the world and felt like a real woman at the time. My sister talked me through everything, which was very embarrassing at the time, but she was great, unlike my step-brother Toby who instead took every opportunity to tease me about it.

My breasts grew quite quickly; I was a C-cup at thirteen and a D-cup by the time I left school at sixteen. My boobs and my blonde hair got me an awful lot of attention during those years, sometimes good and sometimes bad, in fact I went from loving them at thirteen to hating them during the last year of school. Physical education especially was horrible. I remember telling my sports teacher, ‘Sir, I am NOT going on that trampoline!’ Can you imagine?

So, back to Toby. As well as teasing me, he would also spend a lot of time staring at my breasts. I think he thought that I was naive or just stupid enough not to notice, but every time I wore anything remotely tight-fitting, or with a deepish V-neck, he would always try and look down my top. At first, I found it amusing, perhaps even flattering, Toby was sixteen and quite a good-looking lad but it was also slightly embarrassing and made me uncomfortable occasionally.

Then one very warm summer day in the school holidays when I was twelve, I was staying at jane and Toby’s house with Daddy and Donna too. Donna and I shared the guest bedroom, Toby had his own room and Daddy would sleep on a pull-out bed downstairs, and I was walking over the bathroom that morning for a shower when I saw Toby through the gap in his bedroom doorway. The door was only a few inches ajar but something made me glance that way as I walked past and there he was. Styling his hair in the mirror, completely naked.

I looked at his body, slim and toned and then at his penis. It was quite hairy as I remember, and I thought it quite large at the time, although with hindsight it was probably a little smaller than some, but maybe average for a lad of his age and development. I was only looking out of curiosity and wasn’t turned on at all, and after looking for a minute or so, I walked into the bathroom before he saw me.

But I was too late. He’d seen me. I didn’t know - I thought I had gotten away with it - until he knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later, just as I was getting undressed to go in the shower. I asked him what he wanted but he insisted I open the door for a moment, so I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door and then he confronted me about spying on him. He’d seen me looking in the mirror, he explained.

I was completely mortified. I tried to deny it, but there wasn’t much point. I had been caught red-handed, and the conversation went from there to him basically blackmailing me into removing the towel which was the only thing preserving my modesty, or he would tell my father. I remember being quite terrified of the consequences of Donna and Daddy finding out how bad I’d been, and so I let him remove the towel and look at my flourishing breasts and pubes. He had a good long look at me, then let me cover myself and he stomped back to this bedroom, while I locked the bathroom door and showered, after I’d pulled myself together from the shock of what had just happened.

I hope I’m not painting Toby out as too much of a villain. In fact I have to admit that I did feel slightly excited at being exposed to him. He was very persuasive, saying that because I’d seen him naked, he should get to see me - it was only fair - and from that day onwards, we would sometimes play this ‘You show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ game. When the house was empty, with no Donna, Jane or Daddy around, we would often end up in his bedroom. I was as guilty as he was with the game. I was really curious about his penis, and I admit that I got very aroused when he would touch my boobs, and I would see his penis grow hard. I only ever touched it once - picking it up to see how it felt, and squeezing it without ever stroking it, and he only touched my pussy the once, spreading my lips open to look inside, which immediately made me feel vulnerable and a little frightened, so I never let him touch it again after that.

That was all we ever did. As I grew a little older, the games stopped - especially when he got a girlfriend, called Mandy who was very sweet and beautiful, and so Toby lost interest in me, but I like to think that perhaps I played a small but important part in his sex education, as he did in mine, I suppose. I still see him every year or a couple of times a year at family parties and the like, but of course, we never talk about those things. I wonder if he’s ever thought about it, or reminisced like I have?

My first experience with sex was, again probably like quite a few people, seeing my parents do it. I wasn’t spying again (honestly, I wasn’t) but it was very early one morning and Donna and I were awake for some reason. This was after Toby and I played our naughty ‘game’ but I think I was possibly fourteen at the oldest, because Donna was still at school and living at home. I remember her coming up to me and putting a finger on her lips to be quiet, and then beckoning me to follow her upstairs. It wasn’t unusual for mother and father to stay in bed late on a weekend. Although Daddy owned (and still does) a farm, he had semi-retired by then to a point where he did mostly sales and paperwork, and didn’t spend so much time in the fields, and this weekend was their anniversary so I suppose they decided to celebrate it in the best way possible.

Donna had heard mother moaning and had checked to see if she was alright. The door was very slightly ajar, enough to see through the gap between the door hinges and the frame. She was chuckling to herself under her breath as she told me to look and so did I when I looked through to see Daddy’s bottom waggling up and down between mother’s upright legs! It feels a little bit shocking now when I think back, to imagine Donna and I taking it in turns to peer through the thin opening, watching them at it - but that is exactly what we did. Donna didn’t lose her virginity until she was seventeen so she was a virgin then and probably as curious about it as I was. It could be said that we both led quite a sheltered life until we left school. If I recall correctly, we stood and watched for a little while until Donna told me that they had finished and then we ran downstairs quickly before we got caught. I heard Daddy grunt, presumably as he came inside mother. Oh my, it really does feel very wrong to tell you that!

So, back to explaining why I sometimes think that I get my sex drive from my mother. After my mother died, I used to talk about her a lot, both to Donna and my father, and to my aunts and uncles, and it was my mother’s younger brother, my uncle Stuart, who first told me that Anne (as he called her of course) had been quite the wild one when she was younger.

Whereas my father was very down-to-earth for someone with his money, my mother was very uppity and quite embracing of the wealth that the farm had brought them over the years. Many people saw her as posh, like me but unlike me she was often termed ‘snobby’ as well. She was kind and caring to me and all of her family, but I remember a lot of cutting remarks she would make about passers-by or people she didn’t like. She was humorous with it, but her remarks could sometimes be quite harsh, I suppose, if taken out of context.

So to find out that before she met Daddy, she had a different boyfriend every week was quite a shock! Uncle Stuart wasn’t saying these things in a bad way - rather out of fondness - but it piqued my curiosity and made me realise that I really didn’t know all that much about my parents. It was then that Daddy told me - when I asked about their past - that he’d only ever slept with mother and Jane, and if he was being honest, he had no idea how many men mother had slept with before him, but it was a lot. He insisted it wasn’t important, the fact that she had a certain reputation for being an easy lay. It hadn’t made any difference to the fact that he fancied her and loved her and from the day that they got together, she gave up her wild ways and they were inseparable after that.

I do remember talking to her about sex when I very first got my period - and then shortly after I lost my virginity when I’d just left school - and both times, she had said that she lost her virginity at a very young age to a much older man, and that she regretted it. She wanted Donna and me to be careful and not ‘give it up’ so easily. She urged us to wait until we’d found ‘Mr. Right’ and to resist ‘Mr. Right Now’ - which I think Donna and I both took on board at the time, but I didn’t quite manage it, whereas Donna did.

My first actual physical sexual experiences came about during my final two years at school. I attended a very nice all-girls’ private school, which I have terrific memories of. Donna attended the same school, but had left already, being two years older than me, and I blossomed after she’d gone, becoming dare I say it; quite popular with my peers and teachers. I wasn’t the most intelligent in the year, but I spoke well, could hold my own at maths, and excelled at English, and my projected GCSE results were as good as I could have hoped for, if not quite as brilliant as my sister’s before me.

I had a lovely circle of friends, all but one of whom I have lost touch with, sadly, and my closest friend at the time was called Sarah, a bubbly and extremely funny, lanky-tall brunette with the biggest blue eyes I can ever remember seeing. Sarah wasn’t as popular as some of the others, and she was the only one of our group besides me who didn’t have a boyfriend (Daddy wouldn’t entertain the thought of me having a boyfriend, my studies were more important) so we used to hang around a lot together after school.

We were at the stage of trying new things, different fashion, make-up and looks, indie music and experimenting with things like alcohol and cigarettes. I still love a drink and a cigarette these days, although I’m not a heavy drinker or smoker by any means, just a social one.

One night, we’d managed to get our hands on two huge bottles of white cider, and managed to smuggle it into Sarah’s parents’ bedroom at her house. I didn’t mean to get drunk - I couldn’t afford to, if Daddy found out I would be grounded for a month - but one drink led to another and before long, me and Sarah were giggling at practically anything and everything.

I can’t quite remember how but we ended up laid next to each other on the bed, almost cuddling as we looked through some CDs and our legs were slightly intertwined. As I leaned over her to put a new CD in the player, my knee pressed in between her legs, and she let out a little moan in response, and then giggled as I stared at her in surprise.

I’m not sure whether it was the cider or not, but it just seemed harmless and fun to press my knee and thigh against her again, and instead of objecting, Sarah looked at me with a smile and moaned again. I have no idea why - it just seemed almost natural - but I laid on top of her and pressed into her further, and in response Sarah pushed her groin against me, almost grinding softly against my leg.

Our eyes didn’t meet; I remember feeling a bit weird but I didn’t stop. Perhaps I should explain that we hadn’t changed from school, so we were both wearing our school skirts still, although we had both taken our jumpers off if I remember rightly. The events that followed are a bit hazy in my recollection but I know that Sarah told me that she was ‘excited’ which is really cute when I look back at it now. Her leg went between mine and we sort of dry humped each other for a little while before eventually stopping and then we started to talk about sex.

Of course, we’d talked about boys and sex several times, what girls don’t at that age? We were both fairly naive with our upbringings, but I did really fancy a young man who worked at my local stables (I’ll come to the stables and him later) and Sarah told me about her next door neighbour who she’d liked for ages, and who she’d kissed and cuddled with a few times. But then she dropped the bombshell that he’d fingered her a couple of nights ago, and she’d masturbated him in return.

I couldn’t believe it - I’d never met him, but the fact that Sarah had taken this huge step before me, made me incredibly jealous and I insisted she tell me all the gory details. She was eager to spill the beans and as you can imagine, these two teenage girls with hormones and alcohol flowing through their veins ended up both very horny indeed. We were both still wrapped up together on the bed, and as Sarah described how he’d sucked her breasts, I couldn’t help but look at her blouse, picturing it for some reason. We had changed together in the past, so I had seen Sarah in her underwear and vice-versa, but I’d never actually seen her naked and to my surprise I couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like.

I think Sarah saw me looking because she started saying how she wished she had ‘big ones’ like mine; she was tall and quite lanky in contrast to the short, curvy and busty me. I told her that mine got on my nerves and if I could swap them for smaller ones, I would. Somehow that led to us undoing the buttons on our blouses and ‘comparing’ breasts, although we kept our bras on. When Sarah told me about his penis and then how he’d got hard, I felt myself getting hot and breathless with excitement, and when she continued with how he’d put his hand in her knickers and started to tell me explicitly how he’d really known what he was doing, rubbing her clitoris and sliding two fingers inside her, my heart was beating so fast it might as well have been happening to me right then.

And that was when it happened. Inexplicably, Sarah put her hand under my skirt and rubbed the front of my knickers, demonstrating exactly what her boyfriend had done to her. Her fingers found my clitoris, pressing it through the thin material, and it was as though an electric shock went through me. It might be hard to believe, but I had never masturbated up to that point. The only time I had ever really ‘explored’ myself down there was to put a tampon in and although I knew how to masturbate I’d just never been inclined to do it.

I just lay there silently, while Sarah continued to caress me, then she shut up too and the atmosphere totally changed. I lifted her skirt up and she did the same, and I felt the shape of her pussy through her panties and began to rub her, like she was doing to me. A stand-out memory is of Sarah chewing her lip and then stopping and pulling her knickers to one side. I remember it vividly because I was so shocked - not at the fact that she’d just exposed her vagina to me, but also because she was shaved bald down there. I stared for a moment, and then touched her hesitatingly because she obviously wanted me to. I had no idea what I was doing, but my fingers slid inside her a couple of times and I rubbed over her lips, not knowing really where her clitoris was but knowing that was what you were supposed to do. Sarah’s pussy felt both soft and smooth, and hot and sticky.

Then her hand slid down between my legs again, and I remember tensing up, knowing what she was about to do, but no words were said. I felt her pull my panties down my thighs and over my knees and I actually kicked them off and opened my legs so she could touch me. I can’t explain the thrill that was rushing through me at that moment, and when her fingers found my clitoris and began to explore my own wetness, I thought my head was going to explode.

I didn’t shave my pussy back then, but I wasn’t overly hairy anyway, being of quite a fair disposition. I had a smallish triangle of soft, light brown hair and Sarah stroked her fingers through it, saying I should try shaving it because boys like that.

Again, what happened next just seemed ridiculously natural. I leant over her and our eyes met for the first time in what felt like an age and then we kissed. I don’t know long it went on for, but we kissed and rubbed each other until first Sarah, and then I, both came. It wasn’t Sarah’s, but it was my first orgasm and I had no idea what to expect. Sarah had thrown her head back and groaned so loudly that I was scared her parents downstairs would hear us So, I imagined it would feel good but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling that began as a throb deep in my pussy then exploded through my entire body.

Afterwards, we both rearranged our clothes and the oddest thing happened. I’m not quite sure how, but without actually saying the words, we sort of promised each other that this was our little secret. From that day on, I don’t think we ever actually talked about what we did that night. We both moved on, Sarah started going steady with her new boyfriend, while I became increasingly curious about boys and wanting to do the things she’d done with a man of my own.

I did wonder for a little time if what I’d done meant I was a lesbian. It was a bit of a soul-searching and anxious time, but I couldn’t help but imagining a nice boy sucking my boobs like Sarah had described, and feeling his cock grow hard in my hand. I started to masturbate on my own too, and I always thought about a certain boy’s fingers doing to my pussy what Sarah had done. Other things too, like wondering what a cock would taste like, and how it would feel to have a man on top of me, inside me while we kissed and he whispered that he loved me in my ear.

Orgasms were a new thing for me, and I probably made myself cum every day for a long time after that, and because my fantasies were always of men, eventually I became comfortable with what I’d done. I’d just experimented - lots of girls do it, right? I knew I wasn’t gay, although eventually, in the future I would play with girls again. But that’s a story for another time.

I’d just begun to discover the joys of sexual pleasure, but I really wanted to take it further and I had just the boy in mind...

To be continued soon!

xxx Claire